Gold Dust

by Reavis Z. Wortham

  “How so?”

  “How so what?”

  “How was the number so different you’d notice?”

  “Why, Miss Sweet’s phone number is SU4-8135. But that’n was long as my finger. It had one of them new area codes on it, and at the end of that long line was an X and three more numbers. I never saw nothing like that befo’.”

  John saw a similar pad lying on the dresser. “I don’t suppose you remember that area number do you?”

  “Sho do, part of it anyway, cause it’s one number away from Nanny’s house number. That’s why I can remember it.”

  He waited.

  “It’s two-forty, Nanny’s house bein’ two thirty-nine.”

  John hugged her again. “I’ll let you get back to your rat-killin’.”

  “Think that’ll help you?”

  He picked up the phone book and opened to the front pages, quickly finding what he was looking for. A map of the United States that covered two pages was broken into dozens of jigsaw pieces showing what part of the country was assigned each code. Area code 240 was Washington D.C.

  He closed the book and put it under the telephone. “It already has.”

  Chapter Forty

  Dr. Heinz called Miss Becky and Ned into the hall outside of Top’s room. “Y’all, we’re losing your boy.”

  The hair stood up on the back of Ned’s neck. His chest tightened and he choked down a sob.

  “No.” Miss Becky backed against the wall, one hand over her mouth.

  “We’re doing everything we can, but now he’s barely able to breathe on his own. If he keeps failing, we’re gonna have to put him on a ventilator.”

  “What’s that?” Ned knew the answer, but he needed to hear Heinz say it.

  “That’s a machine that’ll breathe for him.”

  “For how long?” Miss Becky’s eyes were closed.

  “Until he’s rallied and can take over, or…”

  Ned’s sharp question cut the doctor off. “Or what, Heinz?”

  Dr. Heinz looked into Ned’s flashing blue eyes and took half a step back. “Ned, I’m just telling you what I know. If the boy—”

  “Top. His name is Top, and you’ll use it instead of calling my grandson ‘the boy,’ you understand?”

  “Fine then. Top will stay on the ventilator until he can breathe on his own again. That could be for any length of time. If this infection does things we’re not expecting, the results could be worse.”

  “Worse?” Tears ran down both of Miss Becky’s wrinkled cheeks.

  “We honestly don’t know what’s happening inside his body. The bacteria seem to attack the lungs, but that could change and damage other organs, and that could include the brain or his kidneys. We just don’t know any more. The truth is we’d need to autopsy…”

  Heinz stopped at the looks of anguish on their faces, realizing what he’d almost spoken aloud. “Look, I just needed to let y’all know what’s happening. Hang on and I’ll keep you updated. We’re doing everything we can.” He paused. “This is hard. I’m sorry.” Heinz spun and left as quickly as possible.

  Miss Becky buried her face in her hands as deep sobs racked her body. Not knowing what else to do, Ned gathered her into his arms. After five long minutes, her crying lessened and Miss Becky wiped her tears. She tilted her head up at her husband. “Ned.”

  “What, hon?”

  “You don’t want me sayin’ this, but I’m gonna do it anyway. If they put Top on one of them machines, he might never come back. I’ve heard of people they’ve taken off and they didn’t do nothin’ but lay there for years afterward. If that happens, you know what you have to do.”

  “I’m not gonna do it.”

  “Ned.” Her eyes flashed at him for the first time since they were newlyweds. “You’ll help him go on. That’s the reason you have your Gift, and you’ll use it to ease that baby into Heaven, if need be.”

  Ned’s eyes burned. He swallowed. “Will it be right?”

  “You’ll know that when you hold him.”

  “I hope that never comes.”

  “But if it does, you do what you have to do. Promise me.”

  “I ain’t makin’ no promises, but one.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m mad as a Jap, and somebody’s gonna pay for this.”

  Chapter Forty-one

  The Broken Spoke’s dance floor was crowded for a Tuesday night when Deputy Anna Sloan and Stan Ewing gave up and returned to their table. The house bandmembers on the low stage were sweating under the lights in a blue cloud of cigarette smoke, playing current hits sprinkled with Hank Williams songs which always brought couples onto the floor. Harried waitresses moved through the crowd, doing their best to stay ahead of the empty bottles and cans.

  Anna sipped from her warm beer on her last night in Austin. “I never did like to dance in that kind of crowd.”

  “The music’s good, though. I’m glad we came.”

  “I wasn’t going to leave town without saying goodbye.”

  The song ended and the band launched into another.

  Stan laced his fingers on the checkered tablecloth. “Can I come up and see you in a week or so?”

  Anna felt her stomach sink. She found herself becoming attached to the lanky cowboy, but their whole relationship was based on lies and false pretenses. “I’ll give you a call.”

  “Why can’t I call you?”

  “Well…”

  Her answer was interrupted when a drunk in a cheap hat stumbled into their table. Stan barely caught his beer bottle as it sloshed a foamy eruption into the air. The drunk leaned over, his face only inches from Stan’s. His breath was pure alcohol. “Hey, buddy. I’m gonna whip your ass.”

  Surprised, Stan pulled his head back. “What for?”

  “You’ve been hoarding the best-looking woman in the place.” The drunk leaned toward Stan. “Me and the boys want a dance with her.”

  “Well, sorry. We’re here with each other.”

  “You don’t need to speak for me.” Anna bristled at Stan’s response. “Look, there’s some cute gals over there. Why don’t you go ask one of them?” She inclined her head toward a group of single women at a nearby table.

  Cheap Hat shook his head. “Nope. You’re my girl.”

  “I’m nobody’s girl.”

  Stan started to stand, but Anna put one hand on his leg. The light pressure held him in place. She felt the situation spinning out of control.

  Cheap Hat leaned forward with both hands on his thick thighs. “Get up, or you a coward?”

  Keeping her hand on Stan’s leg, Anna would have sworn she could feel the air suck out of the room. The music receded into the background and the voices around her became indistinct. “He’s not a coward. It’s me that don’t want him to get up.”

  “Who you gonna listen to, sissy? A woman? Get up and let’s go outside.”

  “He’s not getting up.”

  Stan’s expression hardened. “Anna, don’t speak for me, neither.”

  She saw that she’d already lost the argument. “I’m trying to get this creep away from us.”

  Cheap Hat flicked out one hand, flipping Stan’s Stetson onto the table and knocking over a bottle. Foam spilled onto the table. The lanky cowboy placed both hands on the tabletop and rose slowly. “Outside.”

  “Good.” Cheap Hat spun and headed for the door, followed by four others.

  Anna took Stan’s arm. “He’s gone. Let’s go out the back.”

  “I’m not running.”

  “You’re not proving a thing. This is nothing but a dick-measuring contest and I really don’t care.”

  “I live here. I come to this dance hall pretty regular. I can’t run.”

  “I’ll make it look like I’ve pulled you away and it’ll be my fault.”
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  “That’s just as bad.” Stan jerked his arm away and snatched his hat from the table. “You stay in here. I’ll be back.”

  “You won’t win against five of them.”

  “I only have to whip one.”

  “Look, I have experience in this. They’re gonna jump you as soon as you step out the door.”

  “Experience? You talk guys out of fights pretty regular?”

  Anna weighed the options and decided her undercover work was over. “I’ll tell you everything later, but right now you need to listen. I’m a sheriff’s deputy and I’ve seen fights like this before.”

  Stan paused and looked down on her. “First you’re a rancher’s daughter, and now you’re a deputy? Look, we can finish this conversation later and you can tell me the truth if you know it, but see all these people staring at us? Right now I have to deal with this guy.”

  Her heart sank when another man in western clothes joined them at the table. “Stan, you gonna stand here and make goo-goo eyes at this gal, or you gonna go out and whip that guy’s ass for knocking your hat off?”

  Caught up in a testosterone-driven male ritual stretching back centuries, Stan abandoned common sense and squared his shoulders. “I’m going outside.”

  Neon lights reflected off the bottles as Anna pushed away from the table to follow him outside. “Dammit!”

  Chapter Forty-two

  It was dark outside when I opened my eyes, wondering why I was in a clear plastic tent.

  The room was lit by a dim bulb. Nothing was right. My bed was narrow, and the other window in my bedroom was missing. It took a few seconds to remember I wasn’t at home, but in the hospital.

  I turned my head to find Miss Becky asleep sitting up in a chair. Her hands were folded over the Bible in her lap. A tickle in my chest made me want to cough, but I held it down for a second and it passed.

  Drowsy, I closed my eyes again and the little cough came anyway. Nothing big, just a little chuck that would have been a quiet little poot if it’d come from the other end.

  The sound was enough to wake her up, though. She leaned forward to see inside the oxygen tent. I turned my head so she could see my eyes were open. “Howdy.”

  Her breath caught and the frown on her face disappeared to be replaced with wrinkled smiles. She pulled back a flap so we could talk. “Praise the Lord! You’re back with us. Hallelujah! How you feeling, baby?”

  “Pretty good.”

  “You breathin’ all right?”

  I drew a deep breath mixed with a wide yawn. It felt good to pull air down deep without coughing it back out again. “I believe so. It’s night.”

  “You’ve been asleep for a long time.”

  I closed my eyes for a second and remembered the Poisoned Gift’s dream, the white operating room, and my spiral toward the light. “I was bad for a while, wasn’t I?”

  “We thought we’d lost you once.” Her voice broke.

  “There was a bright light.”

  “That was God. I guess He decided it wasn’t time for you to go.”

  My mouth was dry. “I need a drink.”

  She helped me sip from a paper straw stuck in a glass. That cool drink of water made a lot of difference in the way I felt. I laid back and closed my eyes. “Where’s everybody else?”

  “They all went home to get some rest, all except for your grandpa. He just left to get some coffee down in the café.” Miss Becky started for the door. The soft sound of her shoes on the floor told me she was going to get somebody. “Wait a minute.”

  “I need to tell the nurses you’re awake, hon. Your Grandpa’ll want to know you’re past the crisis.”

  “In a minute. I have to tell you what I dreamed before I forget it.”

  I needed her to hear what the Poisoned Gift had put in my mind.

  “All right.”

  “They were from the Poisoned Gift.”

  She went back to her chair and sat heavy, like her legs had give out. “What was it?”

  I told her about the white room and the gray rat that stood and ran from the stream and into hills that rose in the distance. She listened, nodding, with her eyes closed until I finished. “Does that make any sense to you at all?”

  She rubbed her hand over the Bible’s leather cover. “None of them dreams make sense right off. We’ll figure it out directly.”

  “That usually comes later, after everything’s happened.”

  “That’s how the Lord wants it to work.”

  “It don’t make no sense, giving me these visions but in a way we can’t make ’em out ’till it’s all over and done with.”

  “We don’t get to understand everything.”

  “Is my Poisoned Gift like Grandpa’s?”

  She was quiet for so long I thought she was holding her breath. “His helps people through the Gates. Yours ain’t the same…it’s different.”

  A picture flashed in my mind of Grandpa sitting on the side of the bed, holding my head in his lap and raining tears on my face. A cold chill went down my back. “Did he think he was going to have to help me pass like Mr. Jules? Was I that close, seeing the light?”

  Miss Becky’s voice hitched. “How do you know about that?”

  “I heard y’all talking after you thought I was asleep. I was too sick to go under and heard everything you said. I think I saw it from up there in the corner of the ceiling, but it didn’t last long. Then I felt a hard yank, like somebody pulling a rope tied around my head, and the next thing I knew I was dozing in and out while people talked. Was he about to help me?”

  The wind rose until the moan became a shriek. The window leaked a little, and I felt a soft kiss of cold air on my arm.

  “He thought he might have to, but nothing happened.”

  We both had a Gift we didn’t like and all of a sudden I needed to know about his, so maybe I could understand mine. “Tell me how his started. Maybe I can see some other doctor about my Poisoned Gift if I needed to. Maybe somebody can teach me how to stop it. Is that what Grandpa did? You mentioned it a while back, but did he just quit using it?”

  “Hon, you’re too weak.”

  “You won’t be able to tell me later when folks start coming in, once they hear I’m not dying. Please, Miss Becky. ”

  Her face went hard and it was the first time I’d ever seen her like that. Miss Becky’s wrinkled forehead and cheeks were a roadmap to her life, but she always wore an expression that was mostly pleasant, though sometimes worried.

  This one was as strange as if I’d talked ugly. It took a good long while for her to come back, and she shuddered like she was cold. She finally found one of those wrinkles at the corner of her mouth and I was relieved to see it turn up.

  “All right, hon…” She trailed off for a minute and I watched her gather the words.

  Chapter Forty-three

  Folks in Center Springs dealt with the Great Depression better than some other places. Rain was scarce in 1934 and all of Texas withered in the heat, but there was barely enough moisture to sustain life. Prices were down and even if a crop made, the return was less than substantial.

  The Parkers were having a hard time making ends meet like everybody else, but a young family with four little kids down in the bottoms was in worse trouble. Ned and Becky drove their Model T to town one Saturday and bought a sack of groceries to drop off at the Woods’ so they’d have something to eat besides beans.

  On the way home, they took the graded dirt turnoff in Powderly and wound through the hardwoods, enjoying the shade provided by a thick canopy of trees. Only half a mile from the gin, a wider gravel road intersected the one they traveled. A commotion caused Ned to slow, but he would have bled off what little speed they had anyway for the people who tended to drive their cars much faster on the gravel road. There’d been two or three near-misses between the new Model A cars a
nd wagons. Sometimes a horse and buggy blocked the road, or slowed things down so much the fast drivers had to take to the ditch.

  That’s what happened. It was as bad a wreck as they’d ever seen, stopping a line of cotton wagons beside the gin. A Model T and a Model A were all tore up, steaming and smoking. A wagon lay on one side, one wheel still spinning slow and lazy.

  A horse thrashed and screamed in pain. A confusion of shouting farmers worked to cut it free of the harness while others yelled over the cacophony to shoot the animal and put it out of its misery.

  “Somebody’s probably dead in all that.” Ned wasn’t the constable yet, but he pulled around the wagons and drove as close as possible to see if he could help.

  Hands over her ears to block out the horse’s human-like screams, Becky closed her eyes. “Dear Lord, please spare those people in the wagon, and put that poor thing out of its misery.”

  The injured gelding lay on its side, kicking its life away in a tangle of harness. Ike Reader put his skinny knee on its neck and sawed at the leather harness with his folding knife. He cut the last strap and jumped back. The horse thrashed for a moment and struggled to its feet. Planting its back hooves, it spun toward Ned’s car. A huge knot on its right front cannon told the farmers gathered at the scene that gelding’s leg was broken.

  Showing the whites of his eyes, and despite the leg, the injured horse charged Ned’s Model T. Instead of escaping, the gelding reached the car and planted his rear hooves as if reined to a dead stop.

  “Easy boy.” Ned spoke low and easy, stunned that the horse was even standing.

  Shivering and blowing, the gelding stumbled closer and lowered his head. Ned reached out and the horse stuck his head inside the car, resting it against the future constable’s shoulder.

  Becky’s eyes filled with tears. Used to raising and slaughtering their own meat, she still felt for an animal’s suffering and this one was hurting more than any she’d ever seen.