by Mari Collier
He couldn't remember eating like this. The time with the Comancheros had seen mostly beans, wild game, and biscuits. While he was with Rity, the food had been pretty much the same with the baked goods as extras, although there had been the occasional eggs, bacon, and potatoes. Later Rity's maid had cooked mostly Mexican dishes. This food was overwhelming and rich. His stomach stretched to the limit, and he knew he couldn't eat another bite.
“Vould anyone like dessert?” came his mother's voice. “I have a nice cottage pudding with a hard sauce.”
“Me, please,” shouted Young James.
“Me, me,” added Mina.
The older men agreed to desert as did Martin. Lorenz looked helplessly at his mother, and she smiled again. “It's all right. I'll save yours for later.” She rose and went to the kitchen. MacDonald followed to retrieve the coffee.
Lorenz sat back stunned. How had she known? He had been away for years; yet she had known what he was thinking. Was it possible?
The conversation resumed with the desert and coffee. Once everyone was served, Anna stated, “The hay has been cut and is ready to be brought in.”
The spoon stopped on its way to MacDonald's mouth. “Anna, ye dinna do that by yereself, did ye?”
She laughed. “Almost. Kasper helped me one day. He and Gerde vere here since business is so slow. Ve also need to arrange a day to go in and celebrate that mein sohn is home.”
MacDonald raised his eyebrows as Rolfe cut in. “Ja, gut idea. Ve need to relax before ve go after more horses. Ve'll need them before ve start branding again. Martin can ride in tomorrow and tell everybody. Vhat day du vant to do this? Du got a gut, strong poy now to help mitt der haying. Shouldn't take more than a day, ja?”
Anna smiled happily and then considered. “Ve can go in day after tomorrow. That gives everyone a chance ready to be.”
MacDonald looked askance at his wife. He knew she would be washing clothes and baking, plus cooking for all of them. “Are ye nay sure it wouldn't be better to make that two days after tomorrow?”
“Ja, I'm sure. I vant Kasper and Gerde to see how much Lorenz has grown.” She smiled at MacDonald. “It vill be fine.”
“Time to go den,” said Rolfe. “The meal vas delicious. Poys, tell Tante Anna, danke.”
Everyone rose amid a clatter of thank yous and compliments on the food while they trooped outside. “Y'all want some help?” Lorenz asked Martin. He was desperate to walk away from the hubbub and begin to think out his plans. Somehow it had sounded like he was going to be working, and working hard, at something he had never done.
“Naw, but glad for the company. I told y'all that my extra money would disappear now. Y'all will be helping Uncle Mac, and he won't need to hire an extra hand.” He jokingly aimed a blow at Lorenz's arm.
Lorenz grinned and danced away from the half-blow. He knew Martin was just horsing around. He did not doubt that he would be put to work, and he knew he wasn't going to be paid. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see both Rolfe and MacDonald talking. They were watching him, waiting to see what he would do. This was no time to run. He helped Martin harness the animals and lead them to the wagon.
MacDonald held Mina as the horses were backed between the wagon tongue and secured. The wagon drove off as everyone waved furiously and promised to see each other in another two days. You would have thought they hadn't spent the last few days and hours together. As the dust settled down, Mina asked her father, “Can I haff mein present now?”
A huge smile greeted her request. “Aye, my wee one.” He handed her to Anna. “Lorenz twill help me bring in the purchases and eating gear. Did ye wish the dirty clothes left there?”
“Ja.”
“There may be a slight problem. The clothes Lorenz had on are filthier than those he's wearing, and he nay has any other clothes. I dinna ken ye would be in such a rush to see yere brither, and I had hoped to buy more from Kasper as tis a rough time they've had carrying those who canna pay.”
Anna took Mina and looked at her husband. “I can cut off the pants and the sleeves of some of your old clothes I have in the trunk. They are too small for du now.”
The big man smiled. “My love, even so, they twill wrap around his skinny body.”
“It vill vork for a day,” retorted his wife and walked off.
MacDonald looked down at Lorenz. “Well, I tried. Come, we'll take in the gear and the gifts.
The washhouse was stuffier than the house and almost as hot. Lorenz wondered how anyone could work inside of it. MacDonald unceremoniously dumped the clothes into a basket and handed the bags and packages to Lorenz. Then he opened the liquor barrel and pulled out a bottle of wine. “She twill be wanting to cool this in the spring.”
Anna smiled at them as they walked in and hung their hats on the pegs. She was putting plates over the bowls that contained (to her eye) sufficient leftovers and scraping the food remnants into a tin.
Mina leaped at her father, certain that he would catch her. She squealed happily as he swung her up into the air. He turned and pointed to the small, kitchen table, and Lorenz deposited the packages where indicated.
The big man moved over and began to distribute his gifts. “Ah, what have we here?” MacDonald handed the doll to Mina. She began her squealing again. He set Mina down and handed the paper tablet to his wife. Then he proceeded to unpack the rest of the items. “They dinna have any dried apples, but these are dried grapes and quite tasty. Mayhap ye can do something with them.”
He turned from Anna and handed Lorenz another small bundle of tobacco. “Ye dinna see me get that did ye?” Lorenz took the tobacco in amazement. Then out came the colored chalk and the wrapped gloves. The latter he handed to Anna with a smile.
She was shaking her head at him. “Mr. MacDonald, du have spent more than du should. Ve may need that money later this year.”
“Bah, what good tis the working if I canna give ye what ye deserve? As tis, there should be more.”
She knew from past arguments, he would not change, and she smiled at him while she continued to shake her head. While Anna un-wrapped her gloves, MacDonald pulled out a letter and a newspaper. Lorenz blinked his eyes. Whatever printing was on that newspaper, it was nothing he'd seen before. Anna gasped when she saw them. “From Papa?” she asked.
“Aye, and Der Lutheraner. Anderson let me have them for early delivery ere I won his bet for him.”
Anna hugged him, tore open the letter, and began reading. “They are all vell. Tante Berta is with Christ.” She scanned the letter. “He asks vhen vill ve come for a visit again. Cattle and hog prices are good. I'll read it better later.” She put the letter with the periodical. “Du and Lorenz vill be a bath vanting tonight?” she asked her husband.
“Aye.”
“We just had one.” Lorenz wasn't sure he had heard right.
His mother turned grey eyes on him. “Du both smell of horses and camping, and your hair needs trimming. Du are not a girl.” She turned to MacDonald. “I vill vater need for the dishes and for the vash tomorrow. Vill du a bed for Lorenz be making?”
Lorenz felt his head swimming. He was determined to run for it when the chances were good, but until then it looked like he was going to be told how to look, how to act, and he damned well knew in the meantime, he was going to be put to work. He pocketed the extra tobacco as something he should keep with him.
His intuitions were correct. As soon as he and MacDonald walked out the door, he was set to work at the pump that somehow hooked to the spring and springhouse. It took pails of water to fill the huge copper kettle in the washhouse, the extra tubs, the buckets for household water, and the troughs circling the stone enclosed garden. MacDonald set to work using the lumber to build a plain, sturdy bed frame: four posts and wooden rails on the side. Meanwhile his mother was heating a smaller pan of water and working in that impossible kitchen. By the time MacDonald started tying the rope to the frame length ways, Lorenz felt his hands burning. This was harder than forking hay in
the livery stable.
“Come give me a hand, laddie. I need the rope held steady as I do the cross tying.”
Lorenz gladly set the pail down and joined the big man. “Is she trying to drain all of Texas dry?” he asked.
MacDonald looked up and chuckled. “Nay, but it does seem so at times.”
When the ropes were knotted, they carried the bed inside as Mama held the door for them. Then she held open the stairway door in the living area and they carried it up a narrow flight of steps after much twisting and edging. Lorenz had thought MacDonald had made the bed cot size because of thrift. Now he knew the man simply hadn't wanted to do the work upstairs. A couple of windows were open on each side to let air through and the doorless, unfinished rooms were open, but it was still hotter up here than below. They set the bed in the northeast bedroom. “Tis smaller, but twill be cooler at night once we have a mattress. Some day there twill be a real bed up here and the rest of the rooms finished.”
Lorenz looked out the window over the bed and looked down at the back part of the washhouse where two filled washtubs were set to catch the sun. The garden, pastures, and the foothills stretched into the distance. He could see enough greenery on the rock-rising hills to realize there must be a stand of oak and pine trees on them. MacDonald mopped his forehead. “Tis back in those hills the wild horses run in the summer months. They like the coolness and there tis a small stream with meadows for grazing.”
Mama was waiting for them as they came down the stairs. She had a shirt and pair of trousers, both of which had seen better days, and a scissors. “Lorenz, stretch out your arms so I can measure.”
Lorenz looked at the size of the clothes and knew no matter how much cutting she did, they would flap around him. He looked at MacDonald. The big man's expression was completely bland and the twinkling far back in the brown eyes. He gritted his teeth and stretched out his arms.
“Mr. MacDonald, please hold the material at the shoulders.” Her words were more of a command rather than a polite request.
She snipped one sleeve, then the other. “Now the trousers” she muttered draping them against his waist. “Hold still,” she added to Lorenz. The pants she marked off with some of the chalk. “I'll cut these vhile du take your bath. Then ve'll do your hair.”
Lorenz stalked out the door with MacDonald. In his rush, he forgot his hat and turned to reenter the house, but MacDonald blocked his way. “The tub tis that way.”
“Ah know where it is. Ah put water in it.” He looked at the big man “No way out? he asked.
“Nay that I ken. Yere mither believes that cleanliness is next to Godliness. She twill brook nay argument, and nay twill I.”
Once Lorenz was in the tub, MacDonald collected his clothes. “I twill bring the others in a bit. I suggest ye wash the hair first ere the soap gets too thick in the water and twill nay rinse clean.”
At least he had privacy for the first time in a week. He tried sorting out everything, but nothing fit. Going against the big man was like ramming your head into a boulder. He couldn't beat him physically or mentally. No matter what he did, he would lose. His mother, it seemed, was more demanding, and MacDonald was backing her every play. Lorenz had tried to influence her mind once and a wall had slammed down. There were no words from her, yet she had known. He felt the sun burning at his skin and wondered where the hell MacDonald was. He grabbed at the towel. He had had enough water.
MacDonald appeared with the cut off clothing. “Well, ye have one benefit from all of this. There are nay of my drawers to cut down for ye.”
His new belt was barely long enough to hold the extra material and he felt like a fool. He slipped the boots over the last pair of clean socks that MacDonald had bought a few days before. They walked back, pass the kitchen door to the shade of the crabapple tree where one of the kitchen chairs sat. Mama was standing there with some sort of material draped over her arm, a pair of scissors, and a comb in her hands. Mina was playing with the doll at the side of the springhouse where there was shade from the western sun.
Lorenz thought about arguing again, looked at his mother's set lips, and gave up any thought of talking his way out of the haircut. He sat down. Mama flicked the material around him like a cape and stuffed the ends down inside his collar. He clenched his teeth. The scar would soon be out for the whole world to see as he heard and felt the scissors snip across the sides and back. She hadn't even tried to comb the tangles out first.
Mama stopped long enough to ask, “Do du vant a side part, or one down the middle?”
“Side part, ah reckon. Hit curls anyways it wants to.”
Now she vigorously applied the heavy comb to the snarls in his hair. “Ow!” he started to raise up and realized that MacDonald was beside him. He plopped back into the chair, and Mama continued with the comb and the scissors.
Finally she was satisfied and she handed Lorenz a mirror. “See, is gut?”
He barely bothered to glance at the wavy mirror. He didn't want to see. “Hit's fine,” he muttered and stood. The accumulation of hair slid downward to join the black nest on the ground.
Anna pulled off the cape and announced, “Du look so handsome. Just like your Uncle Kasper!”
Lorenz could only stare at her. Handsome? Him? With that scar? He looked at MacDonald lounging against the tree with that damned half-smile still on his face. Meanwhile Mama was using some sort of small brush on his neck. He almost yanked away and then thought the better of it. He could see MacDonald relax. The man was just waiting for him to do something stupid.
Mama began shaking the cape in noisy, flapping snaps. With another flick, she folded it and draped it over her arm. From her pocket she extracted a small jar and removed the lid revealing a golden wax. She dipped in her index finger, creating a slight film on her finger, and applied it to the scar. He stepped back to avoid her and slammed into MacDonald's bulk. He'd forgotten how quickly the man could move and how hard he was. Instantly MacDonald grasped him by the biceps, not really squeezing, just letting him know he could. “Stand,” came the command.
Lorenz felt his jaw muscles tightened, but held still for the final indignity as Mama proclaimed, “Mr. MacDonald brought this salve. It vill take avay the proud flesh. That vill take some time, but in a few months, I promise, the scar vill almost disappear. See how much it has helped.” She drew away the hair covering her missing ears.
The sudden revealing of his mother's physical suffering was almost too much. He had been so wrapped in his own troubles, he'd never thought about anyone else and what they endured. Zale's death had not been the release for him that he had felt it would. Now who did he punish? He couldn't kill every Comanche that lived. Where was the salve for the heart? And how could his mother be so content and keep living as though life was something worth living?
It was a relief to be put to work again with MacDonald in the barn. MacDonald had grabbed a pail from the springhouse. “Tis time ye learned some of the chores around here.”
Lorenz paid scant attention to the milking and putting up of the milk. He was reeling from the week's events: mind and body became separate items. His brain was wandering, lost in memories and envisioning a life that should have been; his body moving only to fulfill the necessary commands, and somehow there was more water to be pumped for the evening wash-up, for dishes, and for drinking.
Supper was served in the dining room. A simple meal of hash made from the leftovers and more bread and gravy. The dessert Mama had promised was waiting for him. The others dipped some sort of white stuff into their bowls and placed the crabapple butter over it. He looked at it questioningly. “It's clabbered milk mitt apple butter for sweetening,” Mama explained.
Mina rubbed her tummy and exclaimed, “Und it's yummy.” She giggled.
He still couldn't get used to the way children were treated at the table and afterward was even more puzzling. MacDonald made him help carry out the dirty dishes. “We eat, we help, just as we did in camp,” was his explanation. He gri
nned at Lorenz, “After we've helped yere mither, we begin yere lessons.”
Lorenz was soon seated at the table with a sheet of blank, lined paper in front of him. MacDonald sat next to him with Mina balanced on one knee. It was MacDonald's turn to become Lorenz's teacher. “Reading and writing are based on symbols called letters. Each letter stands for a sound, sometimes two different sounds. The letters, or symbols, we use are called the alphabet, and it goes like this. Mina will help me as she is learning them too.”
Mina's little girl voice crooned with her father's each time he wrote a letter. Soon he had Lorenz tracing them and then MacDonald smiled deeply. “Tis now time for ye to practice till the letters are as neat as mine.”
Lorenz's fingers became cramped from holding the pencil and his frustration grew. It seemed impossible that a three-year-old child could make some of the letters on paper as well as he, but he kept at it and the letters gradually became evenly shaped symbols.
Mama appeared and collected Mina for their bath, and MacDonald sat back. “Ye twill be sleeping on the daybed this evening. Since ye have nay underwear, ye'll need to sleep in yere clothes. We twill head out the front way to the back of the barn and ye can relieve yereself ere I bed ye down.”
Lorenz looked at him. “Ah thought that warn't allowed.”
“Tisn't usually, but we canna go to the back since yere mither and sister are bathing.” Outside the sun was bidding the world goodbye with fruit-stained smears of gold, rose, and purple against a blue-grey sky. The air felt soft from the light breeze, and the foothills to the east were splashed with an improbable rosy purple. It was, thought Lorenz, a place he could spend his whole life. Why hadn't he found this place alone and un-peopled? He couldn't stay here. He couldn't bear the pain of losing his ma again. He absently rubbed Dandy's nose as they threw extra hay over to the horses and didn't really remember walking back to the house.
