Willow Wood Road: Lavender and Sage

by Micah Sherwood

  Tom excused himself for a moment, and the boys walked to the backdoor and visually inspected the barn. It appeared that a bunkhouse was built into the stables and further across the pasture was a hay byre.

  “You impressed with the house?” Tom asked the boys, who stared at one another for a moment. Then Micah responded, “I’m sorry, but houses really don’t excite me. Now the barn, that’s impressive.”

  “That’s what I figured. Let’s go meet the foreman.” And the three walked to the center barn door.

  “Harry, you ‘round?” A tall and rangy man walked out of a small office.

  “Howdy Mr. Dorsey, what brings you out so early?” Micah studied the man, and he immediately disliked him.

  “Just showing my boys the property. Someday you might be working for this young’un.” Tom put his hand on Micah’s shoulder.

  Harry reached out and shook Micah’s hand. “What’s your name, buddy?” Then he put his hand on the boy’s back, giving an almost imperceptible squeeze.

  Micah looked into the foreman’s eyes, and he felt repulsed. The foreman’s touch was unnatural, a violation of his person, a threat, and he wanted to slug the guy. He looked toward Cory, who was having a similar response. “My name is Micah,” and the boy said no more.

  “The barber is waiting, we better be going,” and the three left abruptly. Once in the truck, they circled around the house and headed out. As they turned onto Hillcrest, two sheriff’s cars pulled onto the dirt road.

  Micah would not look at Tom Dorsey. He was afraid that he would say something inappropriate, and he felt that he needed to collect himself before he opened his mouth. Harry polluted him. He suddenly turned toward his elderly friend, but before he could say anything, Cory spoke.

  “You wanted us to read him, didn’t you? You know about us and you were testing us? You’re a sneaky old man,” Cory’s eyes were glistening as he was funning with Mr. Dorsey.

  Tom pulled the truck over and stopped.

  Micah looked at his elderly friend, and Cory was right. Tom knew. Of course he knew. The black lady in the hospital said that ‘the old man’ was their brother, one of the five. That meant that he shared some of their weirdness. “Incredible!” Micah exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say something? I was getting ready to tell you.”

  “I knew something was going on. You two seem to talk with your eyes. After a while, I started picking up on little things from your silent conversations. Why didn’t I tell you? Bucky you keep so many secrets that sometimes I think you work for the CIA. And it’s the same with all of you boys. Don’t you go throwing this on my shoulders. The question is: why didn’t you know that I knew, eh?”

  Micah laughed. “Because I would never invade your privacy. I respect you.”

  “I know; I just wanted to make a point. You do not have to keep secrets from me.” Tom looked seriously at Micah. “A big part of your sickness may have been preventable if you just opened up a little. I know how difficult it is for you to talk about private things. You have to work on getting past that with me and your family.”

  “I will try. I am getting better at it.” Micah paused for a moment. “But your foreman, you know that there is a problem. This guy is not just corrupt, he is unclean, nasty. Filthy! He touched me and made me feel dirty.”

  “He is dangerous. He has no conscience,” Cory spoke up. “Harry looked at Micah and wanted to hurt him, and given the chance, that man will hurt him. You need to keep him away. Please, Mr. Dorsey, listen to us.” Cory was noticeably upset.

  “I am sorry for causing you this pain. You saw the sheriff’s cars. They were going out to arrest him. I don’t know the background for the arrest. They came yesterday evening to apprehend him, but he was away. I told them he’d be there this morning. I moved Nancy out last night. I didn’t mean to cause you grief. I am really sorry. I would never intentionally upset you. I just wanted an opportunity to test out my theory. I didn’t know how well you two can grasp peoples’ thoughts.”

  “No, we don’t ‘grasp’ their ‘thoughts.’ It’s not that at all. We sense their feelings and moods. We don’t read their minds. I can look and know if a person is happy or sad or sick or dying. I may know a person’s inclination like dishonesty, but I can’t tell what crimes they’ve committed or gonna commit. Cory and I can go a little deeper with each other. I think it has something to do with our relationship and our history; it’s natural and spontaneous between us. We both can force ourselves to go deep with anyone, but it makes us sick.”

  Micah continued. “But with your foreman, his flicker raged and was black and pulsed with rusty red. He could kill. He may have already killed. He is driven by urges; his hungers can never be satiated. That man is living in hell and doesn’t know it, very sad.”

  Mr. Dorsey was stunned. Had anyone proposed to him what the two boys just exhibited a year ago, he would consider them insane. But he saw Micah and Cory’s response to the foreman, and they tabbed him immediately as criminal. What they demonstrated was alien, but it was also apparently true; and he had to accept that.

  “What do you mean, flicker?” Tom asked.

  “I’m not sure how to describe it. Everything has a flicker. If it breathes, it has a flicker. It is an envelope of color. There is a single dominant color and sometimes minor colors. It seems to reflect wellbeing. Sometimes I have to look closely to see it, but other times, like with your foreman, it’s almost all I can see. Not much more I can say about it.”

  “Tell me about my flicker,” Tom requested.

  “Silver,” Cory spoke out. “It has been silver since I first met you.”

  “Yeah, silver,” continued Micah. “But you also have flickers of green and brown; they look like little flames embedded in the silver. You are a protector and a teacher. But I’m prejudiced; I might be overlaying my personal feelings.”

  Cory popped into the talk,” I think that’s right. You’ve sought meaning all of your life. That is what pushed you. But there was always something missing because you were never satisfied. But with Micah, you found meaning. You view Micah as a son and he views you as a father. But now you have four boys, and finally all of us are whole. We complete each other.”

  The old man pulled into traffic heading to the barber. Cory had verbalized something he had internalized but feared to accept. He had not been complete until Micah and the boys showed up, but why now as his life was slowing down. It was useless to question the timing. Tom Dorsey was thankful and nothing more needed to be said.

  Chapter 3: Hide ‘n Seek

  Micah and Cory stood at the mirror inspecting their Mohawks. Billy Bob said that Tandy and Dane had already been in for their cuts. The hair was primarily a Cowboy Clan thing, though others in the 4th and 5th grades copied them. It was not a wild Mohawk but neat and short, more of a modified High ‘n Tight. Micah understood how symbols and images establish and maintain group identity. Mr. Dorsey taught him about those things. The Mohawk had become a part of their culture as much as the cowboy hat and boots.

  Micah sat proudly on Styx’s back, pulled Cory up behind him, and they trotted over to his friend’s house to get Drack. The drizzle and spotty fog made it a bad day for riding. But nothing was going to keep Micah from traipsing through the brush on his horse, not after months in the hospital; and even though speed was out of the question, he thought maybe he could at least take him up to a canter.

  Tandy and Dane met up with them just past the pipeline. It seemed like an eternity since they had been together riding through the prairie, smelling the wildness of their homeland and feeling the muscles of their mounts working beneath them. The four stood by their horses enjoying the moment, even though it was cold and wet. Micah walked onto the slippery clay of the playa and turned to face his friends, shaking his head, “No.”

  “Let’s follow the creek for a ways,” he proposed. The other boys fell in line and headed northwest on a trail that would intersect with the nearly dry arroyo. They rode for a couple of hours before stopp
ing for a lunch of jerky and raisins.

  The young cowboys sat with their feet hanging over the ledge above the gulch. There was no conversation, only silence. The temperature was dropping, and they were a fair distance from the barn. “We better head back before the drizzle changes to ice,” Dane spoke to the clutch of boys.

  They pulled their gloves on and headed south toward the old ranch house. Micah walked Styx into the barn by himself, which seemed a little odd; he had not spent a night alone since he left the hospital over two weeks ago. This was a good thing, because it shouted-out that everything was getting back to normal. And normal was good.

  He brushed Styx and then covered him with a blanket since the temperature was supposed to drop into the 20°s that night. Micah jumped to the top railing of the stall and stared at his horse. He automatically started his breathing exercise which calmed his mind and his body. His eyes remained open, but he no longer saw the animals in the barn, nor the barn itself. He was in a secure and magical place.

  It was not really a place but rather a recombinant something that was both an abode and a being that surged back-and-forth through time and space; a beautiful chaos, always churning and ever changing; colors rising and falling, overtaking, and then disbursing. A violent crimson explodes from nothingness and then a cyan spark overtakes the rust tinted panorama. Immediately the blue is extinguished by a gold and silver tsunami—a never ending battle between existence and nonexistence, anarchy and stasis.

  Micah flowed through the streams of knowing within this great Totality that existed instantly-simultaneously-eternally as the present, future and past. The boy exploded into fiery sparks. His body wholly inadequate to contain the splendor and freedom surrounding him, his soul screaming with ecstasy.

  Micah focused his eyes within the twilight. The air flowing into his lungs was cold and odorless. There were no sounds, no wind or animal noises. The boy stood balanced on the old log over the mostly dry creek. He remembered the waves of breathtaking colors, but he could not recall how he came to be standing outdoors above the arroyo in the evening light. The illness did not end the oddness that seemed to be integral to his life.

  Crazy.

  Totally insane.

  Those were his feelings. “It is what it is,” he thought and then accepted himself with flaws and everything else that gave him his identity. “If I can’t love myself, how can I love others?” He affirmed and returned to the house, sitting at the kitchen table across from Tom.

  “You feeling okay?” The old man asked the boy.”

  “I feel ordinary,” Micah responded. “The last three months seem like a daydream. I think it’s December and Christmas is next week. I was never sick, never in the hospital. I have this energy inside of me, and it wants to blast outward, and it takes all my strength to hold it back.”

  “I think you should expect to have some emotional trauma at this point,” Tom studied the boy. “Good Lord, look what happened to you. I think returning to school and a regular schedule will fix that. You have months of energy built up and you need an outlet.”

  “Get your coat, and let’s go out for supper.”

  He went to his room to retrieve his jean jacket and thought about what Tom had said, and it seemed right. Micah spoke to him about his feelings, something he would never have done before the sickness. And he did not feel comfortable about it now. He owed it to Tom to be more open and upfront, but there were limits to his new openness.

  Mr. Dorsey spoke as Micah jumped into the pickup. “I need to stop at the drugstore to get your medicine, and there is a little booth in there that will take your picture, so you need to come in with me.”

  “Why do you need my picture?” The boy was a little confused.

  “I’m getting an identity card made up for you. I think that would be a good thing, don’t you?” He rubbed the boy’s head as he spoke.

  “I don’t know why I need one.” Micah weighed his guardian’s words. “You’re hiding something from me, old man.”

  Tom only smiled as he parked in front of the storefront before heading to a small place downtown for the evening meal. After supper, Micah went to his room early and reread the book the old black lady gave him at the hospital, Desiderata. She told him to “feel it.” He laid it on the nightstand, and he slept a deep and happy sleep.

  Micah threw his rifle scabbard and saddlebags on his horse. Styx was dancing with excitement; he started his prance as soon as the boy pulled the tackle out of the closet and headed toward his stall. The black gelding was a handful. Mr. Dorsey said Styx and Micah were a lot alike: a little dark, a little wild, hard to manage. The horse settled down as soon as they passed the gate and started to gallop toward the playa. He had no destination in mind other than heading north into territory yet to be investigated. The temperature was rising toward 40° and the fog was beginning to disburse.

  He left the house right after his chores; it was a rush because the game would start soon. The boys loved this sport, plus it gave him some alone time. The guidelines were very simple and uncodified; a routine rather than a rule: he would rush out; the boys would show up; Tom would tell them which general direction Micah went; and then they would search until they found him. They had to find him before mid-afternoon. It was Hide ‘n Seek on horses, and the seekers had to get within shouting range to tag him out. Once tagged, the game was over and there would be a winner.

  Micah decided to ride north until mid-day, and then head southeast toward the railroad tracks, down Hillcrest Road and then home. There was a good chance that the boys would find him. Later they would meet at the Dorsey ranch house where the old man would have a barbeque prepared.

  Micah started running the horse, and the feel of working muscles underneath him was exhilarating. This is the life he had missed, and he was thankful to be back rampaging through the steppes again, charging around the playa where pools of moisture had formed. Styx drank while Micah roamed around the periphery of the lake bed, finding an antelope skull from a coyote kill that Tandy and he discovered fresh last November.

  Wherever he walked, Styx would follow. He catapulted himself onto the horse and continued his journey beyond the water treatment plant. In another hour, he would have to turn back, but until then, the two raced the wind while dodging mesquite and yucca and listening to the voices of the Shadow Choir resonate faintly in the breeze, their words indecipherable. The singers followed him everywhere he went. After all of this time, he considered the choir a blessing rather than a threat. The words waltzed through the loneliness of the prairie. The first time he heard them was almost a year ago in the darkness of his room at Willow Wood. The chorus terrified him then, but he grew accustom to the sound, which now brought a feeling of routine and protection. Styx ears flicked to and fro as if he too recognized the song.

  Micah heard a whistle behind him and then saw Dane galloping Jax in their direction. “We have a winner,” he shouted as he dismounted Styx and watched his friend come toward him. Dane was a little shorter than Micah, his face finely chiseled. His white blond hair, brilliant blue green eyes and angular features gave him an overbearing milieu, the opposite of his true nature.

  Micah pulled the rifle out of its scabbard and shot a single round into the air to let the others know that the search was over. With that, they rode in the direction of the playa where they would find Cory and Tandy.

  It took half an hour at a moderate gallop to get to the dry lake bed. They saw Tandy and Cory waiting with several targets already set-up for shooting. The boys pulled out their .22s and took turns firing at the bull’s eye. All of them were good shots. They practiced a lot, and shooting was like breathing to them. After practice, they raced around the lake bed for a while before heading back to the ranch. Micah put Styx in his stall while the others used the corral for their horses.

  Mr. Dorsey had the grill flaming with big T-bones sizzling alongside skewers of vegetables. Micah went into the house to set the table when he heard a car drive up. It was Greg and
Isabella. He ran out the door and over to his new sister-in-law who had just stepped out of the truck. Micah hugged her and she returned the gesture with a kiss on the forehead. Then he was shoved out of the way.

  “My turn,” Cory cut between his friend and Isabella. And Greg’s new wife gave him a peck on the head also.

  “Jesus Christ,” Greg exclaimed. “Can’t you stable boys keep your hands off my wife?” One more touch and I’ll grab mom’s scalpel and geld you!” Greg smiled at the two boys. He treated Cory as a brother. He reached into the truck to retrieve a peach cobbler for supper.

  During Micah’s sickness, Greg and Mr. Dorsey had become close, and often Greg and Isabella would eat supper with them. Greg went to the grill and took over cooking.

  “Those last two steaks are for Micah and Cory. They like theirs bloody,” Mr. Dorsey instructed and then disappeared into the house.

  Isabella pulled Micah into the barn and over to Nellie. “Think it’s okay if I sit on her?” She asked her young brother-in-law.

  “Sure, she is very gentle. I’ll take you riding someday if you want.” Isabella always made him feel vital, not like a kid but someone worth listening to.

  “That would be wonderful,” she responded. “But what I want right now is for you to tell me about your bedroom back home. Why does everyone shun it?”

  Micah got a sinking feeling. He wasn’t sure how to handle the question, how much to tell. He grabbed Isabella’s hand and led her through his bedroom and out to the creek. They sat together on the dead cottonwood that straddled the stream.

  “Some people look at the flatlands and think that they’re plain, that there’s no majesty or beauty, the badlands, a lifeless wasteland. This place is full of energy, full of subtle grandeur and teeming with life. All of this land once sheltered the Antelope and Turtle peoples. They lived here for a thousand years up-and-down the Canadian River, millennia before the Comanche made it their home. Their hunting areas went from the Caprock above the river all the way past Palo Duro Canyon, and from the mountains in New Mexico into Oklahoma. It was a ideal existence, peaceful most of the time, but there were times of trouble and war.”