“We did it!” Eddie cried as Roland stepped on the gas and the Oldsmobile tore out of the parking lot.
Even though he was silent as he leaned against the upholstery, in his mind Silver was disagreeing: he knew better than Eddie. He alone had done it, and victory ran through his blood and made him dizzy.
They stopped at a liquor store on Sixteenth Street and bought tequila, whiskey, and cigarettes. Then they drove out of town, having decided it was best to keep a low profile until the waitress had called the station house and notified the police. It was nearly six in the morning when they reached Cannon’s Field. The grass was high, and they parked the borrowed car beneath the shadows of pines. Silver knew Cannon’s Field as well as anyone; he and Reuben and Teresa had spent hours there when they were younger, they had swum in the reservoir nearly every day, they had explored every inch of dust and weeds.
“No one will look for us here,” Silver told his friends. He got out of the car and opened the bottle of tequila and breathed so deeply he thought his lungs would burst. The river was less than five miles away from Cannon’s Field, and a mist rose everywhere. Silver took off his shirt and laid it down before he sat on the earth.
“We’re rich,” Roland said as he came over. He flopped down and opened the whiskey.
“Rich?” Silver said as he divided the money into three piles. There was a hundred and twenty dollars apiece. “This is nothing compared to what we can do.”
“What do you have in mind?” Roland asked.
“A Seven-Eleven store,” Silver told him.
Roland shook his head. He had been nervous from the start; if he had had to do any more than sit in the car he would have backed down. “I don’t know if I can get the car again,” he said uneasily.
“You can get it,” Silver assured him.
“I don’t know,” Roland said. “My brother-in-law’s not an easy touch. And if we ever got caught and he found out what I used the car for, he’d kill me.”
“We won’t get caught,” Silver said. He held up the tequila bottle to the rising sun and squinted.
“I don’t know,” Roland said. “People get caught all the time.”
“He’s right,” Eddie said. He put his share of the cash in his pocket. “We should lie low for a while.”
Silver took out the gun and ran his finger over the barrel. “You’re scared,” he said to Eddie and Roland.
“Shit,” Eddie said. “Scared?”
“You’ve got to have three guys for a stickup,” Silver went on. “Maybe two, but it wouldn’t be easy.” Silver had learned all his secrets of crime in the dark in movie theaters and in bars. All his plans had been made a hundred times before, by small-time punks who stood around the bar of the Dragon, by Hollywood heroes and thugs. Silver’s plans were those of imagined Indians, men who attacked in the night to round up the wagon trains before they collected diamonds and cash. “I’ll tell you one thing,” Silver said to his friends, “if you two are scared, there are plenty of ways for one man to get money. There are plenty of things I can do alone.”
While Silver was drinking tequila with his friends in Cannon’s Field, Teresa was getting dressed. She went downstairs, made a pot of coffee and drank one cup, leaving the rest behind for Dina. It was Saturday and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. When she left the house at eight the air was still cool with a breeze from the west. Soon, Bergen would arrive from San Francisco with a truckful of slate. He and Dina planned to build a border around the garden; if Teresa was home they would enlist her aid, if she was gone they wouldn’t even miss her. So she made sure to leave early that day; she wore a bathing suit under her clothes; Atlas followed right behind her. Hawks had begun to circle over the foothills by the time Teresa closed the front door and began walking toward Cannon’s Field.
Before long the day would be hot, at least a hundred degrees. After an hour of walking, Teresa felt limp; she would have taken off her shoes and walked barefoot if the asphalt hadn’t already started to burn. And later, when she had reached the outskirts of town, she still kept her shoes on; the fields were dry and harsh, the burrs that stuck in the collie’s coat would have just as easily pierced the soles of Teresa’s feet.
The river was too far to walk to, and on hot summer days it was crowded with swimmers and canoes. The reservoir in Cannon’s Field was the best place to be alone, the perfect place to swim. Even when she reached the pine woods that separated the road from Cannon’s Field, Teresa never thought anyone else might be there in the field. She walked where the grass was tall, where wildflowers whose scent reminded her of New Mexico grew. When she was fifty yards away, no farther than the hawks in the sky, Teresa noticed a car hidden in the woods. She looked at it, surprised, then squinted and turned to the open field as if searching for poachers.
She didn’t even see the other two—at least not right away. All she saw was Silver, Silver sitting cross-legged beneath a California oak, raising a bottle of tequila to his lips, resting on the clean white shirt he had tossed on the ground.
For some reason Teresa didn’t smile or call out; she didn’t keep on walking, right past them and on to the reservoir. She knelt down, low to the ground, she hid in the tall grass and watched as heat waves began to rise in the field. She held on to Atlas’s collar and made him lie down next to her. The two of them stayed there, not moving an inch, and a breeze so hot it did no good at all moved just above their heads.
Out in the field Eddie, Silver, and Roland were drunk. The tequila and whiskey had mixed with last night’s fear and this morning’s courage to make their heads spin. Silver had nearly finished the bottle of tequila, Eddie rolled a joint.
“It’s too bad,” Silver was saying as Eddie passed him the joint, “that we didn’t get enough money so I could get a car. With a car I could do anything.”
“Can’t have everything.” Eddie shrugged.
“Oh, no?” Silver smiled. “I’m going to have everything. Every goddamned thing I want.”
Fifty yards away, in the shade, Teresa wondered where Silver had been all night. When he didn’t come home the house seemed much too empty, the floorboards echoed, the crickets spun like sirens till morning. Watching him from this distance, Teresa could understand why women always looked at Silver. Beside him, Roland and Eddie were invisible. As she watched them drink whiskey and tequila, Teresa was suddenly thirsty. She ran her tongue over her lips and wished for cold lemonade, gallons of ice water, cold raspberry sherbet. And then suddenly they stopped drinking—all three of them looked in the same direction, and Teresa could feel their eyes over the field, through the heat. All three of them jumped up, and then, for a moment, they stood where they were. Nothing moved, even the sky seemed frozen, and, beside Teresa, Atlas was perfectly still. The only thing that moved was inside Teresa. Her breathing was raspy and it hurt, everything hurt—the sun, the rough grass, her cotton dress, the shoulder straps of her bathing suit.
And it seemed that before Teresa even saw them start to run they were right in front of her. Maybe she had been closer than fifty yards away, because before one breath became another there they were. Atlas got out of her grip and ran over to them, barking, curling his lip over his teeth until he recognized Silver. Silver was standing closest to Teresa—the gun was pointed at her head. He had run to that spot knowing that someone was hiding, someone had been watching them. And the tequila had boiled over inside him. Before, during the robbery, he had not known if he could really kill someone. Now he knew that he could. With the right amount of alcohol, with the right amount of fear, he could easily pull the trigger. Even when he saw that it was only Teresa hidden in the grass, Silver’s pulse didn’t calm down. He stood over Teresa, certain that he had missed murder by seconds. In that instant Silver discovered how easy it would be for him to kill someone. Outwardly he looked no different, but inside his blood was wild.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Roland said to Teresa.
“She’s eavesdropping,” Eddie said. �
��Isn’t that right?” he asked her.
Teresa wondered if she could run faster than any of them. Eddie and Roland staggered, and she had always been a fast runner. She could fly all the way home. But now her legs no longer felt like her own, and she wasn’t certain she’d be able to stand.
“I know just what you came here for,” Eddie said now. He sat down next to her. “I’ve seen you staring at me. I know you like me.”
Eddie put his hand on her, and beneath his fingers Teresa’s skin flushed with heat.
“I was going swimming,” she explained. “I didn’t even know you were here.”
“Sure,” Eddie said. He leaned even closer. “Come on.” He nodded to the woods beyond the field. “After I get through with you, you’re gonna mark this day down in your diary.”
When Silver put his finger on the trigger to release the safety catch the sound was like thunder. That one click made them all turn to see that the gun was pointed straight at Eddie’s heart.
“Don’t move another inch,” Silver said. “Don’t touch my sister.”
Eddie threw back his head and laughed. The collie stood close to Silver and whined softly, pawed the ground and shivered.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Eddie said. “You’re not the boss of this outfit. Who made you the fucking boss?”
“Face it,” Silver said. “Last night would never have happened if I hadn’t planned every move. You’re a loser,” he told Eddie. “What more can I say?”
“What do you mean by that?” Eddie demanded. “What the hell do you mean I’m a loser?”
“Forget it,” Roland said. “Why don’t you two quit arguing?”
“What do you have against me?” Eddie asked Silver. “I’m not good enough for your sister, is that it?”
“That’s right,” Silver said. “You’re not good enough.”
“Maybe Teresa doesn’t agree with you,” Eddie said. He reached and ran one finger along her cheek. “You’re pretty,” he told her. “You really are.”
Silver fired and the sound exploded above them. If Eddie hadn’t moved to embrace Teresa the bullet would have gone right through his chest.
“Jesus Christ,” Eddie whispered. The bullet had lodged in the pine tree directly behind him.
“What the hell is going on here?” Roland said. “We’re all supposed to be friends.”
Silver ignored Eddie and Roland. He reached out and helped Teresa to her feet. “Let’s go,” he told her. “You wanted to go swimming and that’s exactly what you’re going to do.”
Teresa brushed off her dress, then waited for Silver to retrieve the bottle of tequila. She felt breathless, she wondered if her pulse would burst through her skin. Like an outlaw from the hills, Silver had rescued her; and now she followed him across the field, toward the woods and the reservoir. She would have followed him across the desert, she wouldn’t have complained about lizards or dust.
“I’m not going to forget this,” Eddie called after them.
“Leave him alone,” Roland warned, putting his arm across Eddie’s shoulders.
“I’m not going to fucking forget this,” Eddie cried.
Silver turned and stopped in his tracks. “I’m finished with both of you,” he said. “If I ever see either of you, if you ever bother my sister, I’ll kill you. Understand?”
Eddie and Roland watched as Silver led his sister toward the reservoir. When they could no longer see Teresa’s shadow, Eddie turned to Roland and whispered, low so that Silver wouldn’t have a ghost’s chance of hearing, “I think he really means it.”
As they walked, Silver’s boots left an imprint in the earth, tequila spilled from the bottle he held by the neck. They walked in a single line—first the dog, then Silver, then Teresa. Teresa watched Silver’s bare back; he carried his shirt draped over his left shoulder like a cape, the revolver was tucked into the waist of his jeans.
“Where did you get the gun?” Teresa asked.
Silver stopped and turned around. “Did you ever smoke marijuana?” he asked. When Teresa shook her head no, Silver reached into his pocket for a joint, lit it, and passed it to Teresa. The smoke made Teresa dizzy, but she didn’t complain. She inhaled, but then let all the smoke escape.
“Not like that,” Silver said. “Keep all the smoke in,” he advised. “Otherwise you waste it.”
Teresa inhaled again and kept as much smoke as she could inside her lungs.
“Better,” Silver said. “Much better.”
They walked on; it was hotter and hotter, and Teresa’s clothes itched, her head was light.
“Don’t concern yourself with where I got the gun,” Silver said now. “It’s something I’ve got to have. Believe me, I don’t like it this way, but I’m sure as hell not going to be poor forever. And let me tell you something, when I’m rich you won’t find me in Santa Rosa.”
“Are you going to Los Angeles?” Teresa asked, imagining a house without Silver, another deserter hidden in the orchards of southern California.
“Los Angeles?” Silver said. “Shit. You wouldn’t catch me in Los Angeles. Do you think I’m a loser like Reuben? You think I’d waste my time looking for King?”
They finally reached a clearing close to the reservoir; near the green water, lilies grew like weeds, dragonflies buzzed. Silver sat with his back against a pine tree.
“Come over here,” he said.
Teresa stood right where she was. Atlas had gone off to the banks of the reservoir and was chasing mosquitoes, his jaws snapping each time he caught a bug. Silver raised the bottle and finished the tequila, then let the bottle roll into a ditch.
“Come on,” Silver said. He touched the ground next to him. “I’m not going to hurt you or anything.”
When she went to sit beside Silver, Teresa was afraid, though she wasn’t quite certain why. I could run, Teresa thought to herself. He’s drunk and if I didn’t want to be here I could run like lightning.
“Closer,” Silver said now. His voice didn’t sound familiar, his words were slurred and soft, and he looked as he had that night in New Mexico when Teresa saw him in the café. His arms had been around Annette’s waist exactly the way they now encircled Teresa. When Silver put his mouth on hers he tasted like bitter liquor, like too sweet smoke. He kept his mouth pressed against hers for such a long time that soon Teresa felt she was smothering.
“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” Silver asked, but then he shook his head. “Don’t tell me,” he whispered. “I don’t want to know what you’ve done before.”
He kissed her again. Teresa felt as if she were losing herself, drowning by inches. Silver was drunk and seemed to be getting drunker with every kiss. His breathing was the same as she heard every night on the other side of the bedroom wall, his arms were the ones she had always wanted to hold her. Quite suddenly it was easy for Teresa, she listened to the sound of the mosquitoes moving just above the cool water, she closed her eyes.
“No one will know,” Silver promised.
Teresa took off her dress; they were so close there was really no difference between her skin and his. Still, Teresa couldn’t help but wonder if it was really Silver who held her, if it was really his face so close to her own. She stopped herself from thinking, she concentrated on the smell of the grass, on the turning of a hawk’s wings overhead, miles above the reservoir.
“No one will know,” Silver repeated, and Teresa shivered and watched him push down the shoulder straps of her bathing suit as if those straps belonged to someone else. They moved with the same rhythm, just as if they planned it, as if this hour had always been planned, right from the start. Every one of his kisses was thick, dizzying, crazy as a drug. Once, when he turned his head away from her, Teresa found Silver’s mouth with her tongue, she held him as if she and not Silver had led the way to the reservoir, as if the whole thing had been her idea. And after that, how could she stop him? After kissing him how could she say no when he pulled down her bathing suit and unzipped his jeans? When
his penis was first inside her Teresa put her hand in her mouth and bit down until she broke the skin; the pain was nothing more than following him into the desert, following him anywhere he wanted to go. And when he held her so tightly she thought all of her breath would be driven out, when he moved faster and faster, Teresa wouldn’t have thought of telling him no, she knew it was too late for that when she first sat next to him, there were no excuses—she hadn’t had one drink, and the marijuana had all escaped. She wanted to be there, and she didn’t want to be there, and finally she just stopped thinking.
Once, when he was still inside her, Teresa opened her eyes—Silver’s eyes were open, too, and they looked like Teresa’s own, a dark mirror, the eyes of a twin. After Silver had kissed her one last time and had fallen asleep, the deep sleep of liquor and a night of robbery, Teresa still did not run. She didn’t move until she was certain Silver wouldn’t wake, then she slipped out of his arms, took her clothes, and walked down to the reservoir. She left her bathing suit and her dress on the bank and walked into the water. The line of blood on her thighs disappeared, the water surrounded her, tadpoles swam through her toes. The collie ran along the banks, following Teresa as she swam. She counted each stroke as she cut across the water, she counted until she was breathless and weak and her legs were shaking. When she had swum for such a long time that her arms hurt, Teresa looked over at the clearing and saw that Silver was sitting up. She got out of the water and dressed; she combed her hair with her fingers and quickly braided it. By the time Silver walked over to her, Teresa looked just as she had when he had first seen her hiding in the tall grass; only now her hair was wet, green beads dripped onto her shoulders and ran down her dress.
Silver shaded his eyes from the sun with his hand, he studied Teresa as if she were a stranger. He put on his shirt and buttoned it; he lit a cigarette and inhaled, but the smoke didn’t disguise the scent of roses left behind on his skin. “Let’s go,” he told her. “Hurry up,” he whispered. “Get that fucking dog and let’s go.”
They walked back the way they had come, and even though her skin was still filmy with reservoir water, Teresa felt burning hot. They cut through the tall grass and then stood by the side of the road to hitch a ride. Each time a car or truck passed by, Silver stuck out his thumb. To look at him, to stare straight into his eyes, no one would have guessed anything had happened, no one would have thought that these two standing by the road had moved like lovers just a little while before. They were two hitchhikers: a young man who wore a white shirt and scowled beneath the heat of the midday sun, a girl with dark hair who looked lost.
White Horses Page 9
