Doc was one of the first to defy my expectations. Here he was as old as Tom, almost, and always arguing at the ancients’ table at the swap meet that America had been betrayed by those who wouldn’t fight. It had seemed obvious to me that he would be disagreeing with Tom again, and arguing for joining the San Diegans in their fight. But here he stood saying, “I remember once when Gabino Canyon folks were asked by the Cristianitos Canyon people to join them when they were fighting with Talega Canyon over the wells at the Four Canyon Flat. They did it; but when the fight was over there wasn’t any Gabino Canyon at the swap meet anymore. It was just Cristianitos. The thing is, bigger towns tend to eat up the littler ones around them. Henry will tell you there’s hundreds of people down there—”
“But we’re not just the next canyon over from them,” Steve objected. “There’s miles and miles between us and them. And we should be fighting the Japanese. Every town should be part of the resistance, otherwise it’s hopeless.” He was vehement, and several people nodded, ignoring the talk around them. Steve had a presence, all right. His voice turned people’s ears.
“Miles aren’t going to matter if the train works,” Doc answered. So he was against joining. Shaken, I was about to ask him how he could drop all his swap meet talk just when the chance for action had arrived, when Tom said real loudly, “Hey? Let’s go it one at a time now.”
Rafael jumped in the gap. “We should fight the Japanese every chance we get. Face it, they’re hemming us in. We’re like fish in a big purse net. And they’re not only keeping us from the world, they’re keeping us from each other, by bombing tracks and bridges.”
“We only have the San Diegans’ word for those attacks,” Doc said. “How do we know they’re telling the truth?”
“Of course they’re telling the truth,” Mando said indignantly. He waved a fist at his pa: “Henry and Tom saw the bombs hit the tracks.”
“That may be so,” Doc admitted. “But it doesn’t mean everything else they said is true. Could be they want us scared and looking for help. That Mayor of San Diego will start thinking he’s Mayor of Onofre the moment we join him.”
“But what could he do to us?” Recovery said. The other hunters nodded, and Recovery stepped forward to take the argument from Doc and Mando. “All it means is that we’ll be dealing with one more town, just like we deal with all the towns that come to the swap meet.”
Doc dropped on Cov’s argument like a pelican flopping on a fish. “Exactly not! San Diego’s a lot bigger than us, and they don’t just want to trade. Like you said, Cov, they’ve got a lot of guns.”
“They ain’t going to shoot us,” Cov said. “Besides, they’re fifty miles away.”
“I agree with Simpson,” old man Mendez said. “An alliance like this is part of knitting things up again. Those folks don’t want anything we have, and they couldn’t do anything to us if they did. They just want help in a fight that’s our fight too, whether we join it or not.”
“That’s what I say,” Rafael added firmly. “They’re holding us down, those Japanese! We’ve got to fight them just to stand up.”
Steve and I nodded our heads like puppets in a swap meet puppet show. Gabby stuck his fist between us and shook it triumphantly. I hadn’t known Rafe felt so strongly about our situation, because it wasn’t something he talked about. The gang was impressed. I felt Steve shifting in the tub, twitching catlike as he nerved himself to stand up and pitch in with those who wanted to fight. But before he did his father stepped out from the wall he had been leaning against, and spoke.
“We should be working. That’s what we should be doing. We should be gathering food and preserving it, building more shelter and improving what we got, getting more clothes and medicines from the meets. Getting more boats and gear, firewood, all of that. Making it all work. That’s your job, Rafe. Not trying to fight people out there who have a million times the power we do. That’s a dream. If we do anything in the way of fighting, it should be right here in this valley, and for this valley. Not for anybody else. Not for those clowns down south, and sure not for any idea like America.” He said it like the ugliest sort of curse, and glared at Tom as he said it. “America’s gone. It’s dead. There’s us in this valley, and there’s others in San Diego, Orange, behind Pendleton, over on Catalina. But they’re not us. This valley is the biggest country we’re going to have in our lives, and it’s what we should be working for, keeping everyone in it alive and healthy. That’s what we should be doing, I say.”
The bathhouse was pretty quiet after that. So John was against it. And Tom, and Doc… I felt like the wind had been taken out of our sails by John, but Rafael rose to speak. “Our valley isn’t big enough to think that way, John. All the people we trade with depend on us, and we depend on them. We’re all countrymen. And we’re all being held down by the guards on Catalina. You can’t deny that, and you got to agree that working for us in this valley means being free to develop when we can. The way it is, we don’t have that freedom.”
John just shook his head. Beside me Steve hissed. He was near boiling over—his hands were clenched into white fists as he tried to hold himself in. This was nothing new. Steve always disagreed with his father at meetings. But John wouldn’t abide Steve crossing him in public, so Steve always had to stay shut up. The usual meeting ended with Steve bursting with indignation and resentful anger. I don’t know that this meeting would have been any different, but for Mando speaking up earlier, and arguing with Doc. Steve had noted that; and could he stand by silent, not daring to do what little Armando Costa had? Not a chance. And then I had been arguing with Tom all night. There were too many fires under Steve at once, and all of a sudden he popped up, face flushed and fists trembling at his sides. He looked from person to person, at anybody but his pa.
“We’re all Americans no matter what valley we come from,” he said rapidly. “We can’t help it and we can’t deny it. We were beat in a war and we’re still paying for it in every way, but some day we’ll be free again.” John stared at him fiercely, but Steve refused to back down. “When we get there it’ll be because people fought every chance they could get.”
He plopped back down on the tub edge, and only then did he look across the room at John, challenging him to reply. But John wasn’t going to reply; he didn’t deign to argue with his son in public. He just stared at him, his color high. There was an uncomfortable pause as everyone saw what was happening—saw John denying Steve’s right to join the discussions.
Tom looked up from warming his hands at the fire, and saw what was going on. “What about you, Addison?” he said.
Add was against the wall, Melissa seated at his feet; he stroked Melissa’s glossy hair from time to time, and watched the rest of us carefully as we argued. Now Melissa looked down, her lower lip between her teeth. If it were true that Add dealt with scavengers, then he would likely have problems if we joined raids in Orange County. But he shrugged and met our stares boldly, as if it didn’t matter a damn to him. “I don’t care much one way or the other.”
“Pinché!” old Mendez said. “You must have some opinion.”
“No,” drawled Add, “I don’t.”
“That helps a lot,” said Mendez. Gabby looked surprised to see his father speak; old Mendez was a silent man.