“Grandmother?” said Vallary, looking into my face. “Don’t be sad. Would you like to see my toy horsey?”
The stinger of my age had been removed by a single word from a little boy with tousled yellow hair. I smiled. “Surely I would,” I said.
While Val showed me the carved horse and saddle, April looped her arms through Rachel and Rebeccah’s arms. “Come with me, ladies. We’ll put the girls down for their naps in the nursery. Then I’ve got things to show you.” April, Rachel, and Rebeccah dashed upstairs with little Patricia and Lorelei in their arms and Esther on their heels. Mary Pearl stayed in the parlor with her folks and Morris. April stood at the top of their shiny wooden stairway, which was lined with an Oriental rug all the way, top to bottom. “Mama? Aunt and Uncle? Do come up, too,” she called.
What caught my eye was Mary Pearl. Her eyes went wide at first, then narrowed. One of the twins leaned over the rail at the top of the stairs then and called, “Mary Pearl, come on up, honey. Wait till you see this fabric!” But Mary Pearl didn’t move, and the one calling down didn’t wait at the railing.
“You going?” I asked her.
Fingering the fringe on the heavy curtain near her chair, Mary Pearl shrugged. “I think I’ll go for a ride instead,” she said.
Savannah said, “Cousin April didn’t mean not to include you, honey. But she and the twins were like sisters when they were small. You just don’t remember her.”
I stood up, some dishes in my hands, and Lizzie came in suddenly and took them from me, saying, “Oh, madam, please visit with your folks.” Then she disappeared.
Morris said, “Lizzie’d be fretful if you carried dirty plates into the kitchen. Besides, Yselle is busy with supper. It’s better not to go in during her work. I told her there’ll be company.”
Savannah went to Mary Pearl and said, “Let’s go upstairs, honey, and see what the girls are looking at.” Arm in arm, they started for the staircase.
Zachary came bounding in the back door, Ezra and Vallary on his heels. Ezra bounced an India-rubber ball off the floor and caught it. He went straight to Savannah, who was standing at the foot of the stairs, and in a loud whisper that all of us heard, he said, “There’s no privy out back, Mama. Mind if I go in the hedge at the back of the yard there?” Morris laughed, and sent him upstairs to the privy room.
Ezra and the other two boys ran toward the staircase. As they stampeded past Savannah and Mary Pearl, we could hear them on the stairs, Zack saying, “Hey, Val’ old pal, where’d you get them sawed-off pants?”
Vallary said, “These are knickerbocker trousers. All the boys in my school wear them. Call them knickers for short.”
“Don’t your legs get full of stickers?” Zack asked.
Ezra’s voice rang down the stairs, “Knicker-stickers! Knicker-stickers!”
The three boys shrieked with laughter, then vanished, too.
The men went outside to look at some kind of water-pump system and the newest buggy that Morris and April had. For a moment, I was alone in the entry of this lovely house. Then I began to make my way up the wide, carpeted staircase. I lingered in the hallway at the top of the stairs, wondering which of the doors to go through. I felt torn. Longing to do something about the problems at home, thrilled to be here, and wishing to forget everything else, to see my daughter and her husband and my grandchildren—to be happy. Yet, I wasn’t happy. I felt like a rank stranger in ways I could not describe. April and her family had been back in Tucson for over a year now, but it seemed the grandchildren were my only connection to her. I missed Lorelei and Patricia while they were asleep.
I heard voices behind one door that was partway open. When I entered, April explained that this was the “morning room.” She had laid out bolts of fabrics on chairs and tables. April wanted each cousin to choose a color and cut a length—enough for a dress—as a gift. I tried to sort out whether she was telling us we dressed too shabbily for her, but the girls were happy with the prospect. Savannah was silent, merely watching the going-on, fanning herself. Reckon I wouldn’t want anyone to speculate on the motive behind a gift I gave them, although I wasn’t in the habit of bestowing things much.
Supper was just as elegant as it could be, but it was pure relief to head toward my place in town after supper. That night, the slew of us bedded down there, and for a little while, I laid awake, listening to the empty old house settling. I suppose a person would think their oldest child and only daughter would somehow seem more akin to them.
August 21, 1906
In the morning, as I reached to pull the plug on the bath, I peered out the window overlooking the back of the house. The sun was up just enough to see the dry and weedy square of “yard.” Once, I’d had flowers and mint beds back there. It used to be beautiful. If I lived here, I’d put in some mint. Put primrose against the fence. If I lived here, it’d mean selling the ranch. Coming to town for good and all. Just like the ranch, which is homesteaded, this house is paid for. All I owe are taxes each year. If I sold the ranch and paid the taxes up for fifty years, there’d be no drought could take this house away. The boys are all but on their own. I’d be nearer these grandchildren. Chess probably wouldn’t mind as long as he gets his three squares and some tools to fiddle with. Mama would live here with me and do her quilting, and I’d read to her every night. Savannah and Albert could visit. That thought made something clutch in the pit of my stomach.
I could sell this house instead of the ranch. It might bring enough to keep solvent until we got turned around. Trouble was, the house was full of memories of Jack, too. We had built it together. Had children here. I had so many decisions to make. At breakfast, I talked all this over with Savannah and Albert. I thought Savannah might tell me it would be too lonely for her. Instead, her advice was to wait and pray. Albert agreed, and saying nothing that big should be decided quickly.
Savannah was to see the doctor about her condition at ten o’clock. I told Albert to drive her in my buggy and that the rest of us could walk to April’s place. As I watched Albert and Savannah drive away, I said over my shoulder to Mary Pearl, “What got into you to volunteer to haul around the boys, instead of visiting with the girls?”
Mary Pearl fixed her hat squarely on her head. “I don’t mean nothing harsh by it. It’s just that at Cousin April’s house, it’s us that’s strange. I feel like an old shoe left on the porch a couple of years.”
“Why do you say that?”
Mary Pearl shrugged. “Folks in town will quick pull up a package or some such, but they’re staring like I was the ugliest thing ever born. Papa says, except for taking Mama to the doctor, he ain’t letting me out of his sight. I reckon they just expect me to end up bad.”
“Honey, they won’t let you out of their sight because you are the prettiest dove of the bunch. Your mama is just trying to make sure you don’t get led astray. Like with that fellow writing those secret letters.”
She blushed deeply. “They’re Esther’s. She wrote and told him she was going to town.”
“Mary Pearl! Are you coming?” a boy shouted, his voice cracking on the last word. Ezra. Loud boots clambered on the stairway.
“I’m coming,” she said, going toward the door. “You don’t think I’m ugly?”
“Like a sty in the summer!” Ezra said.
I said, “Get on out of here, you varmint,” then turned back to Mary Pearl. “Why, Mary Pearl, do you think I taught you to carry that knife? It’s a face too pretty to let pass. Just remember, sometimes a girl can get right up against something before she’s got it figured out. Now chase those critters out of here before they run headlong into a fence post.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Mary Pearl smiled as she turned.
That girl had dimples in her chin and both cheeks, and I knew sure as I was standing that it she’d turned that little smile on any grown fellow, he’d have dropped to his knees in a full-out swoon on the spot.
Before I got to April’s place, Mary Pearl had caught up to me. S
he said, “I decided maybe I’d like a dress, too. Mama said it’d be all right, long as it was modest. No sense being stubborn about taking a gift that’s offered. I sent the rascals to try panning for gold up at the flour mill by Sentinel Peak.”
“Pull a lot of color out of that wash?” I asked.
“I figured the idea of it would keep them company until they figure that pie tin has better uses.”
We laughed. I shook my head. “Likely that’ll cause a run on property there.”
Well, April and the girls had patterns and pins and a flurry of sewing in that upper room. Amidst the commotion, we told April about the cousin we’d never known, and how Willie’d turned out to be some sorry stuff. While we talked of serious things, I played patty-cake with Patricia and Lorelei and cut them paper dolls. Next thing, the girls got the idea of fixing up Mary Pearl’s hair like a Gibson girl, and they spent half an hour doing that.
I told April then, “So long. I mean to head back to the house and fix the little boys some dinner.”
Suddenly, April dropped the hat book on the table. “I thought they’d gone with Uncle Albert and Aunt Savannah. You didn’t bring them with you?”
I said, “They’re out playing at the riverbed. Took some horses.”
“Vallary is riding horses through town without any adults with him?”
“The boys know their way around.”
“Whose horse? Is it wild?” April ran to the front window and looked out.
Mary Pearl said, “They put him on Flojo. Zachary’s got Big Boy. Ezra’s got Duende. I told him if he ends up riding dirt, it’s his hide. Duende’s not going to put up with him jumping off the way he does.”
April gasped. “That gigantic horse? It’ll crush them with one foot. Mother, how could you let them take my son like that?”
“Well, they’re good boys. There’s not much trouble they’ll get into that a good switching and some castor oil won’t fix.” No sooner had those words left my mouth than we heard a commotion in the back of the house. Footsteps lumbered from room to room, then about halfway up the stairs.
Zack’s voice whispered, “Aunt Sarah? Cousin April? I think you better come outside. In the back there. Outside.” The back door closed very quietly. That alone was a sure sign something was not right with those three boys.
April opened the door to see what was keeping them, calling out, “Vallary Winegold? Come in this house this very minute.” I followed April to the porch. Her cousins followed me.
Vallary, covered with filth and beaming with pride, slipped off Flojo’s back just as the door opened. When he caught his balance, he reached up and grabbed something long, like a hank of rope, and slid it from the horse’s back, too. Val had a huge grin on his face and said, “Look, Mother!”
Ezra slid off Duende and was just touching his foot to the ground when both Flojo and Duende saw the dead snake in Val’s hands. At the same time, both animals bucked, arching their backs, rearing up and jumping, twisting sideways, throwing sunlight and shadows on their bellies as they expressed their horror at the snake’s presence.
Zack had started for the horses, but he ran back toward the porch. Ezra held his arms over his head, trying to catch Duende’s reins. Even old Big Boy ambled away from the commotion. Val, terrified, stood between the two wildly bucking animals, their hooves nearer and nearer. He held one end of his snake and froze, mouth open.
I let go of April’s arm and ran toward my grandson, a noise like a raging mountain lion coming from my throat. “Don’t move!” I screamed. “Whoa, whoa!” I waved my hands over my head and flapped my apron. I had Vallary in my arms as I dashed to the porch.
The rattlesnake’s body dangled from Val’s grasp like a tail, whipping around my legs as I ran. Finally, setting the boy on the porch, my breathing returned to normal, and he began to cry. “Oh, honey. Oh, little baby,” I said, hugging him close. Val smelled like the horse he’d been riding, and worse. Something swampy and rancid coated his hair.
Vallary grunted, trying to stop his tears. He struggled out of my arms and stood on his own feet, saying, “Grandmother, I’m not a baby. I just caught a snake. All by myself. Zack said it was real brave.” He wiped his runny nose on his dirty sleeve, giving himself a mustache of mud.
April screamed and ran to Vallary, picking him up. He still gripped his snake tightly in one hand. “Put that down!” she ordered. He held on firmly. With a gasp, she set him on his feet on the porch.
I knelt by him. “That horse,” I said, and shook Vallary’s shoulder with frustration. He stood transfixed, watching Flojo writhing in the yard. Flojo squealed and snorted; strings of mucus and foam flew from his nose. His hoof caught the blue glass “viewing ball” that stood on a stand at the beginning of the flower bed, and it exploded like a firecracker. April hollered.
I shouted, “That horse could have killed you with one hoof. You had that snake slung across—Oh, Vallary. The meanest little brute of a horse. Oh Lord.”
April, hands on her hips, her face red and hair all fluttered out, said, “Drop that nasty thing this instant.”
“But Mother, it was the bravest thing I ever done did. I want Ezra to clip off the rattles. Wait till you hear this, Mother,” Val said to April, sniffing. He told a story of getting lost at the stream by the mill house, and of killing the snake with a rock because the horse wouldn’t step over it. Then he told about his trip home, and a lady wearing a lacy dress—smoking a cigar just like a man—who’d hollered at him to show her his little snake. “But it’s not little, is it, Mother? Look here. It’s bigger than me. Zachary said I could wear it on my hat. How about that?”
The horses at last had settled down. April leaned against the rail on the porch and buried her face in her hands. “Oh dear God in Heaven,” she said. “Castor oil, Mother? Fixed with castor oil?”
“Ezra James?” I said. “Zachary Taylor Prine? The two of you come here this minute.” I glared at Ezra and Zack. These boys had led an innocent, frail little boy all the way to the river on the meanest horse they owned, and left him to risk killing himself many times over with a snake so large, it could have eaten the child after it struck him. There they stood, hooligans in the making, half-grinning, sassy, their freckles obscured by dirt. And Albert not there to take a strap to them. Under my care, they’d grow up to become rogues and drifters, and frighten old ladies, and rob banks. Rustle cattle. Just like Willie.
“You—you three boys,” April said, breathing audibly two times, “take a bath!” Then she burst into tears, crying so heartily, she lost her footing and sank to the floor of the porch. She wadded her apron into a knot and rocked back and forth, totally besieged by misery.
The boys watched her, shocked. Never, ever, had Ezra and Zack seen someone’s mother dissolve like this before their eyes. Val sobbed, too, sympathetically, still clenching his snake, its head gobby with mud and drying blood. Ezra’s face turned red. Zachary said softly, “We’re sorry, cousin,” and tears dribbled from his eyes.
I said, “You two get those horses. Go on to my house, and take a bath, like she said. Val, put that thing out in the barn, where those horses can’t see it. You’ve tormented your mama just about enough today. We’ll talk about skinning it tomorrow.” I was ready for my own company for a while. I surely wasn’t accustomed to all this folderol, no matter that they were all blood relations. “I’ll follow them home, and talk with Savannah and Albert about this,” I said.
Rebeccah said, “We’ll be there later. April wants us to stay here, sleep in their spare bedrooms. If Mama and Papa allow, that is.”
Mary Pearl said, “Aunt Sarah, I’d be pleased to help you watch the little renegades. I believe I’ll just let the big girls stay here.” Mary Pearl and I walked back to the house. Well, we’d hardly gotten in the door than Savannah saw Mary Pearl’s swept-up hair, which made her look older and modern and all. Savannah got cross, and she told Mary Pearl to get herself upstairs and take down her hair, then fetch her prayer book. Savannah’s fu
ssing had as much to do with the boys causing trouble as Mary Pearl’s hair sweep, and I reckoned the girl would resent every word of it.
Mary Pearl said, “Yes, ma’am,” but there was fire in her eyes. I watched sparks fly between them like a house cat in a thunderstorm. She was the same age my April was when she ran away with Morris. Girls around those years seem to get in a frame of mind that is prickly as a cholla patch.
Savannah was supposed to stay happy and peaceful, and she was more worried about Mary Pearl’s hair fixing than she had a call to be. I got our supper and left Mary Pearl and her mother with the dishes. Then I read Ezra and Zack some history from a little book I’d found in a cupboard upstairs. They went to bed early. As I put out the lights and headed upstairs myself, I thought about being home, down on the ranch. Firestorms and dust and plagues of scorpions and cattle stampedes—all of that seemed peaceful compared to what was happening here.
The next morning, I awakened to the rhythmic scraping sound of metal hitting rock. My backyard was overgrown with weeds, some more than waist-high. Ezra had risen before the sun. He was hoeing and scraping, leaving a turned-up wake of freshened dirt. The soil was poor, mixed heavily with caliche and gravel. He stacked rocks in piles as he worked. When I called him to have breakfast, he cleaned up his face and hands, then sat without speaking. That boy was feeling mighty guilty for his part in yesterday’s shenanigans.
The older girls had stayed at April’s house. Mary Pearl rode herd on Ezra, Zack, and Val while I washed and hung out their duds. They ate like badgers, competing to see who could eat the most pancakes the fastest. Then the three went to the barn to finish doing their dirty work from the day before, skinning and mounting that snakeskin on a board to dry. April had been appalled when I’d said I was going to make them do it all by themselves.
Sarah's Quilt: A Novel of Sarah Agnes Prine and the Arizona Territories, 1906 Page 36
