“The Hunter’s Place,” Ty said. “The Kiowa hunters of Granddad’s father’s tribe would go to special places away from their camps like this one and cleanse themselves before a hunt. It was a time for mental preparation, clearing the mind and concentrating on becoming the buffalo. They believed they had to think like buffalo, gain their spirit before the hunt.”
Ty raised his head, looking at the rock above the cave blackened from past fires. “Granddad brought me here before we went to Fort Sill. He wanted me to have the chance to hunt the buffalo like his ancestors. It was important to him. He left me here and told me to come back to the shack when I thought I was ready for the hunt. I stayed here two days.
“I was somebody else that day. I don’t even remember the car ride. I found the buffalo, I knew where they were. I’d never been there before, I just knew. It was the most … most wonderful feeling I’ve ever experienced. It was the proudest moment of my life. When we came home afterward, we dropped you off and Granddad brought me back here. He told me stories about the greatest Kiowa hunters because I had proven I had the gift. I had joined their ranks. I would be able to tell the same stories to another gifted hunter. I was to pass on the heritage of countless generations who lived and hunted this land. He explained that becoming the buffalo was a gift. It was a state of mind, and that I could use its power when facing danger or if I needed strength for something important. His son, Richard, came here and prepared himself before going to war.”
He was silent for several moments before speaking again. “After the hunt, I had to stay here alone again before going to the house. Granddad called it ‘truth time.’ He said it was a time to realize what was gained and lost in the hunt. I felt good for a couple of hours, still on the high, but slowly, very slowly I began to think like the buffalo again. I didn’t want to lose that strange, wonderful feeling. I couldn’t do it. I only felt incredibly sad. Then I realized the reason: I was thinking of the buffalo whose spirit I’d taken. I was feeling his loss.
“I told Granddaddy what I felt when I went back to the shack, and he hugged me. He said during truth time a hunter experiences the loss of the spirit he’s taken and gains understanding, but the real lesson was I couldn’t live in the past when on a hunt. I couldn’t think of the past buffalo, for I had beaten him. I had to think of the next one who had an even greater spirit. Only that way could I grow.
“The hunters were also the warriors and used their special place to prepare themselves, become the buffalo, before a battle. Once they had become prepared, they couldn’t return to their loved ones, or it was said they’d lose the feeling. After the battle they would return to their place, where the spirits of friends and fellow warriors who’d died in combat were released to join the Chosen. The badly wounded couldn’t go back to their families until they were healed or certain to live. You see, in their special place, they were almost in the spirit world. If they died, they died as great warriors and would ride with honor among the Chosen.… Granddad said when the wind blows just right you can hear the warrior’s death song.”
Ty shifted his gaze to Jason. “I’ve never told anyone those stories that Granddad passed on to me, or showed anybody this place. I didn’t want to share that part of granddaddy with anyone … until now.”
Ty lowered his head. “I’ve missed you and wanted you to know why the Hill is so special to me. Your dad and I never got along because of Granddad and this hill. Duane never understood but I think you do. This place and this hill are part of me, like you are.”
Jason put his arm around Ty’s shoulder with a warm smile. “I’ve understood that for as long as I’ve known ya. Hell, we’re brothers and don’t worry about pleasing dad. He grew up poor and had to work all his life to make ends meet. He doesn’t understand how land is like blood, that it can flow through your veins and become a part of your being. Be you, Ty, never feel guilty about loving this hill.”
Jason looked around him at the beauty and shook his head. “It’s funny, but I get the feeling this hill needs you more than you need it.” Jason broke from his reverie and slapped Ty’s back. “C’mon, I’ve got to see Becky and get me some hugs before I go back. You’ve got a hill to love and I’ve got the best-lookin’ gal in Meyers!”
7
Mea ran her hand over the hood’s glossy black finish. “She’s beautiful, Ty. I never dreamed you could fix her up like this.”
“I didn’t do much,” Ty said, opening the car door for his mother. “The guys in shop class did most of the work.”
Mea sat on the maroon Naugahyde seat and admired the interior. “Does the radio work?”
Ty motioned his mother over and slid in behind the steering wheel. “Yep, but it’s not the original. We pulled one from another Ford in Brogan’s junkyard. Willy Farris tucked and rolled the seats, and me and Jimmy rebuilt the engine.” Ty turned over the ignition switch, starting the engine. “The ol’ Black Widow is finally back.”
Mea couldn’t help but smile, hearing the name her father had given the car. She remembered when he’d first brought the black 1950 Ford home. He’d gotten out of the car in a cold sweat and said he’d almost killed himself three times driving home. He hadn’t been used to such power and lost control on some turns. That day he named the Ford his “Black Widow,” for she was deadly and had to be handled with care.
Mea put her arms around Ty’s neck and gave him a gentle hug. “I love it. Dad would have been thrilled to see what you did with her.”
Ty smiled with pride and shut his door. “Sit back and relax. I’m gonna take my favorite girl on a ride.”
“Where we going?” Mea said, grinning.
Ty eased the car down the driveway and turned on the radio. “We’re gonna drag Main, then tool around the Dairy Boy so I can show you off … and if ya give me a kiss, I’ll buy ya a Dr Pepper.”
She laughed and lightly slapped his arm. “I hope that’s not how you get kisses from the girls.”
“Naw, they buy the Dr Peppers.”
* * *
Jason wiped his hands on his jersey and lined up behind Chuck. “Stick ’em, Chuck. We’re baaaad!”
The defensive coach stood beside Coach Duggin and motioned toward the field. “Look, I know you don’t like Johnson, but be reasonable. He isn’t good enough to be a halfback, but he’s one hell’va linebacker. I could use him right now, since Watley got hurt.”
Duggin kept his eyes on the quarterback as the offense broke from the huddle and lined up on the ball. Monday was the infamous “Toilet Bowl.” The varsity players who didn’t get a chance to play in Saturday night’s game scrimmaged against the red team. The past few Toilet Bowls had been as fierce as Saturday’s game. The “Crazies,” as they called themselves, had been giving the second- and third-teamers a real battle. Today’s scrimmage was no exception.
The second-string quarterback received the snap from the center and immediately raised up and threw a short pass toward the end, who had buttonhooked. Jason read the play at the last second and threw his hand up, deflecting the ball into the air. The defensive cornerback caught the ball in midflight and streaked down the sideline. A halfback prevented him from scoring by a last-ditch flying tackle.
Duggin’s veins along his neck popped out as if he were about to explode. He spun around and glared at the defensive coach. “Never! That kid is playing over his head. I’ve seen his kind before.”
He blew his whistle and stomped out onto the muddy field. The assistant coaches conducting the game immediately jogged toward the irate head coach for his blasting. Duggin ignored them and yelled at the offensive team. “Terrible! You’ve lost the ball on three damn possessions!… Give me the ball!”
The defensive back tossed the football to Duggin, who marched toward the end of the field. He slammed the ball down on the five-yard line and pointed at the quarterback. “You have four plays to score on these idiots, or you and your offense run twenty laps! You think you can manage making FIVE DAMN YARDS?”
The quarter
back yelled at his team, “Let’s show him!”
Chuck shook his shoulders like a maddened bull and snarled, “He called us ‘idiots’!”
Jason grabbed Chuck’s face mask and yanked his head down so he could look into his eyes. “We’re gonna hold ’em! They’re not gonna score on us Crazies!”
Chuck beat Jason’s shoulder pads and turned to his defensive team that had huddled up. “Let’s make them bastards run!”
The Crazies yelled in determination and broke the huddle. The offense lined up and tried a draw play, but Chuck buried the quarterback before he could hand off, for a four-yard loss.
Duggin blew his whistle and put the ball back on the five-yard line over the protest of Jason, who shook with anger. “He was down back there!”
Duggin just looked past Jason. “Tough! They get the ball on the five!” He went back to the offense and called the play.
Chuck patted Jason’s back. “It don’t matter; we’re gonna hold.”
Jason lined up. The quarterback took the snap and quickly handed off to the halfback. Jason was hit by the tackle but shucked the block and met the halfback in the hole, stopping him cold in a shattering pop of shoulder pads and helmet plastic. Chuck jerked Jason to his feet and pounded his helmet screaming, “WE’RE BAD! We’re bad CRAZIES!”
Duggin knelt down in the offensive huddle, trying to contain his anger. “You gonna let a bunch of losers whip your ass? BLOCK, goddamnit! Right, Y out, sixteen, on two.”
The team lined up and the quarterback barked out the signals. He took the snap and faded back to pass.
Jason was blitzing behind Chuck and no one had picked him up. The quarterback saw him coming and began running to his right. The offensive halfback saw Jason pass by him and threw himself at the back of the charging linebacker’s legs. Hit unexpectedly, Jason pitched forward to the ground with his left arm under him at an odd angle. His momentum and body weight popped the elbow out of joint in a jolt of excruciating pain.
The quarterback managed to make three yards on sheer determination before being smothered by an even more determined host of defensive tacklers. One of the assistants had thrown a flag on seeing the halfback clip Jason and blew his whistle while running to see if he was injured.
Jason got to his feet, holding his elbow. The stabbing pain had passed into throbbing agony. The assistant looked at the injury and could see the ball end of the bone jutting out grotesquely just under the skin. “It’s dislocated, Johnson. You’ll be back for spring ball.”
“No, he won’t,” Duggin said, with a smirk as he walked up. He quickly glanced at Jason’s arm and shook his head with exaggerated concern. “Too bad. Looks to me like a permanent injury.”
The assistant, who didn’t know about the bad feelings between the two, spoke innocently. “No, Coach, I’ve seen a couple of these, and it’ll heal in a month or so.”
Duggin glared at the assistant as if he were about to tear his head off. “Get him to the trainer!”
Jason looked at Duggin with defiance. “It’s fourth down.” He brushed past the assistant and walked toward the defensive huddle.
“Get off the field, Johnson,” Duggin bellowed. “You’re through!”
Jason turned around, forgetting the pain. “You got what you wanted, you bastard, but it’s still fourth down.”
Duggin’s lips curled back cruelly. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Like you said, I got what I wanted.”
“It matters to me,” Jason said. He turned around, taking his position, and challenged Duggin with a stare.
The assistant spoke pleadingly. “Coach, you can’t let him play with …”
“Fourth down and two yards to score,” Duggin yelled, cutting him off. “Huddle up, offense!”
Chuck looked worriedly at Jason. “Don’t do this, buddy.”
Jason’s jaw muscles tensed, and he spoke in a rasp. “It’s personal now.”
Chuck nodded and faced his teammates. “Crazies, the bastards ain’t scorin’!”
The team growled their defiance as Duggin squatted down in the offensive huddle and looked at the right guard. “Strong right, twenty-four on one.”
Jenkins, the right guard, was to pull and lead through the hole and hit the linebacker, Jason. Jenkins shook his head, “But coach, he’s hurt.”
Duggin grabbed the 220-pounder’s face mask and hissed, “You hit him or tomorrow you’ll be playing on the red team! You understand?”
Jenkins glared at the coach. “Yeah, I understand.”
Duggin repeated the play to the rest of the team and broke the huddle. The offense lined up slowly, each man eyeing Jason to see if he was really going to play. Jason ignored their stares and moved into position behind Chuck. The quarterback glanced nervously at Duggin, who motioned him to hurry up. He turned from the coach and looked at Jason before beginning his cadence. “Down … set … hut!”
The quarterback faked a pitchout to the right halfback and handed off to the left halfback, who was to follow Jenkins through the hole. But there wasn’t a hole. Chuck had bulldozed himself into the gap and, despite Jenkins’s efforts, held his ground, plugging the route. The halfback lowered his head and launched himself over the mass of bodies to travel the two yards to the goal line.
Jason saw the halfback leap, and he lunged upward to meet him. The two clashed in midair in a loud explosion of popping pads. The blow spun the dazed back around and the ball flew free. The two players fell onto the mass of bodies that were scrambling for the ball.
Duggin lowered his head, seeing Chuck jump up from the pile holding the ball and the Crazies go wild in exultation.
Jason got up feeling faint. The adrenaline high was gone, leaving him with tremors of pain shooting up his arm. Chuck gave him a toothless smile and helped him up. “You’ve loved it enough … ya damn Crazy.”
Duggin turned around and bumped into the defensive coach, who was standing behind him. Duggin smiled and tapped his clipboard. “That’s one more scholarship we’ll get back for the spring.”
The defensive coach stepped out of the way and shook his head. “You gained a scholarship but lost a kid who had heart.”
“Heart isn’t good enough,” Duggin snorted.
The coach motioned toward the field. “Case you didn’t notice, ‘heart’ just whipped your offensive team’s ass.”
Ty left the school gym and got into his car feeling good. He’d tried playing a little basketball and found he hadn’t lost any of his skills. His hands had regained their flexibility, and he’d start practicing and try out when the season started in late November. He pulled into the driveway of the house and walked into the kitchen as the phone rang. Mea answered and saw him in the doorway.
“Ty, it’s for you, honey.”
Surprised, Ty walked into the living room and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Ty, act like you’re talking to one of your friends. This is Jason, and I wanna tell you something that I don’t want Mom to know just yet.”
Ty leaned forward and peeked into the kitchen and lowered his voice. “Mom’s in the kitchen. What’s a matter?”
Jason spoke evenly. “I had a little accident playing ball today, nothing serious, just dislocated my elbow. The doctors have already popped it back in place and have me in a sling. It’ll be fine in a couple of weeks. I don’t want Dad or Mom to know about it, or they’ll come over. You know how they are.”
“Sure, I understand,” said Ty, trying not to sound alarmed.
“Good. Ty, could you do me another favor? Could you pick me up Friday night and take me back home? I want a little time for the swelling to go down, and I can explain better in person if I’m there.”
“Sure, I’ll be there. You take care, huh?”
“Thanks, brother, I will. See ya Friday.”
Jason handed the phone to Chuck and sat down. Chuck hung up the receiver and joined him. “Don’t be hangin’ your head. Ya got the rest of the semester paid for. Hell, ya can drop out for a semester and make e
nough money to come back next fall.”
Jason sighed and looked at the sling. “Nah, I’m like you … I can’t go home and face them. Dad would only go in hock and make me stay in school. I talked to some people and took some tests a few weeks ago … I have some options.”
“What options?” Chuck raised an eyebrow suspiciously.
Jason stood up and walked for the door. “You oughta know; you gave me the idea.”
Chuck quickly caught up with a pained expression. “You didn’t.”
“Not yet, but I passed all the tests with flying colors, and they said I could be an officer by next fall. What is OCS, anyway?”
Chuck’s shoulders sagged. “Damn, Jay, there’s a war on now. It ain’t the same as when I was in. You’re gonna finish the semester, aren’t ya?”
Jason looked up at the fall night and took in a deep breath. “Yeah, Duggin can’t pull my scholarship till after Christmas. The Army can get me on a bus the first week in January for basic training and then send me to this OCS place to be an officer.”
Chuck couldn’t help but smile. “It ain’t a place, it’s a school … shit, you an officer. God help us all. A Chuck-trained Crazy defendin’ our great country from the Communist horde. Now, don’t that beat all?”
Jason laughed so as not to cry. He’d never felt so low in all his life. The Army was a way to finish school. There were no other options for him. Working meant living at home to save money. Borrowing money was impossible, and taking borrowed money from his dad was unthinkable.
Jason patted his big friend’s back. “I have two dollars to my name. Will you buy us some beer?”
Chuck gave an expression of shock. “You don’t drink!”
Jason looked down the darkened road toward his future. “You’re right, but tonight I think I need one … just one to kill the pain.”
Chuck laughed and threw his arm over Jason’s shoulder. “One, my ass, I got a couple of bucks my ownself. We gonna drink up enough to drown your worries away. Hell, I might even join … naw! Not again! Come on, we got some serious painkillin’ to do.”
the Hill (1995) Page 6
