Willow Wood Road: Lavender and Sage

by Micah Sherwood

  “I’ve signed us up for some track events. I think you boys are our fastest runners. I’m going to do some time trials today and see if you can handle it. You guys like to win don’t you?”

  “Yes sir,” they all shouted.

  “Mr. Sherwood, I’ve seen you run, and I think you are our best bet for the 5000 meter race. You look good with distance running. I want you to come out tomorrow at the start of lunchtime for your trial run. I’m not ready for you today, but you can help me with the others.” Mr. Terry paused for a moment. “Okay, I know that some of you boys are not friends, but I expect you to put away your rivalries and support each other in these contests. You can beat the crap out of one another after school, but when we are running, you are all best buds. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes sir.” They yelled, and Micah started to look at the coach in a more positive light.

  He actually had fun; for the first time all year, Micah enjoyed PE and looked forward to his trial run the next day.

  The cowboys followed Micah to the barn after school. They had less than an hour before they headed to Palo Duro for practice. They threw their school books on Micah’s bedroom floor and grabbed their bags stuffed with boxing gear as they left. But today, Micah told them they needed to meet Isabella at Willow Wood, so they headed up the hill.

  The boys sat on the grass under the mimosa tree in the front yard while Micah went in to talk with his sister-in-law. She was in her basement bedroom. He knocked.

  “Come in,” her voice was soft. Micah walked through the door. She regarded him. He looked like Greg. He carried himself a lot like his brother. He wasn’t much of a talker, though. He recovered from his illness well, and he was strong and already had well defined muscles. She watched him work at the Dorsey ranch, so she understood where he got his strength. There was nothing lazy about the boy. Micah and Greg were both like their father: well built, smart, ruddy and a little mysterious. Not too far into the future Micah would make some girl very happy. When she saw him, she ached for Greg and struggled to hold back tears.

  “Isabella, Lindy wants to go with us to practice. I said she could. Is that alright?”

  “Uh huh, and she’s not even a friend. I think that’s what you said.”

  Micah said nothing but turned a bright shade of pink.

  “Sure she can ride with us. She can sit in the front seat with me and Cory. Is that okay?”

  Micah got a questioning look on his face.

  “I’m joking. She better get here soon.” Isabella paused, “You like her, don’t you? She’s very pretty.”

  “But she is three years older than me.”

  “Piffle, that’s nothing. Ask me when you’re 18 if that’s a concern.”

  “But I’m just a kid.”

  Isabella walked over to her brother-in-law and kissed his forehead. “Micah, you’re friends. Maybe she’s your special friend, but she’s still just a friend. Enjoy the relationship and don’t try to make it more than what it is. If you do, you might get hurt.”

  “Thanks. Don’t tell anyone. Anyone means mother.”

  “No kidding. I will only tell your brother. And brother means Greg.” Isabella laughed.

  Micah loved Isabella. He could never tell her that. He smiled at her and then went to the mimosa tree to wait with his buddies.

  He had not mentioned to anyone else about Lindy coming. They all thought that they came to Willow Wood for Isabella’s convenience. As Isabella stepped out of the front door, Lindy was strolling up the Sherwood driveway. And the boys watched as Micah walked out to greet her. She grabbed his hand, kissed his cheek and walked with him to the car. He opened the door and she slid in.

  The boys remained under the tree, their mouths open, slobbering and surprised. “You all coming or not,” Micah hollered.

  They got into the car saying not a word, and they said nothing all of the way to Palo Duro. Isabella dropped them off and left. Lindy walked with Micah, hand-in-hand. Tandy, Cory and Dane followed—still quiet but watching intently. Once in the gym, the boys headed to the changing room. That’s when Cory let loose.

  “I see how it is,” Cory commenced. “Friends forever or until some filly comes along, and then we don’t even rate. No more riding because ‘I gotta spend some time with my woman.’ No hiking because ‘My old lady has made plans already.’ What a pal you are.”

  Micah stood listening. “You finished?” She’s an acquaintance. She’s three years older than me. She showed me around the Junior High today. Her brother takes boxing, and she just wanted to watch. That’s all.

  Tandy smiled, “But she’s a good kisser ain’t she?”

  “Muy bien!” Micah faced the boys, grinned, and went into the gym.

  Lindy watched the boys’ warm-up and observed their coach giving them instruction and guidance in cardio-vascular training, and it was a rough regimen. After the first 30 minutes, their shirts were off and their bodies covered with sweat. By the end of the session, the young boxers dragged themselves into the showers. But when they came back out, they were fresh and vibrant once again—pushing and running and teasing.

  Isabella dropped the boys off at the Dorsey ranch except for Tandy, and he left as soon as she pulled into the Sherwood driveway. Lindy and Isabella sat together inside the car for a moment. Isabella looked over at Lindy. “You know Micah is infatuated with you?”

  “I know, and you’re worried that I might hurt him. He is so gentle and innocent, and I like that. The boys in 9th Grade go from girl to girl. Their minds are on themselves and no one else. I don’t think Micah will ever be that way. I watched him tonight, and he is driven. You can tell by how he pushed himself. Most of the time people who are driven have no concern for others; that’s been my experience. But he’s not like that. I feel comfortable around him.”

  Isabella touched Lindy’s hand when she replied, and she understood why her brother-in-law was smitten. “Micah is a riddle; he is gentle, but he is also very aggressive. He will go out of his way to protect the people he loves; and when threatened, he will attack. Micah plays to win at everything. He easily takes on challenges and will come out on top most of the time. If he fails, he will loathe himself for it. He is accepting of other’s imperfections but not his own.”

  After a brief pause, she continued. “He is damaged. Maybe you saw his scars at practice. His mother did that. She is not a bad person, but she and Micah are like fire and ice. He is not easy to control, and given the right situation, she’ll beat him to death because she considers him her personal failure. That’s why Tom Dorsey is his guardian. It’s for his protection. But please don’t tell him what I’ve said, he would never forgive me. You are right, I don’t want him hurt. I love him as much as I love his brother.”

  “What’s that big scar on his chest?”

  “He had open heart surgery.” She thought for a moment. “He had a heart defect. Micah almost died last December. It’s all good now. You can see how full of life he is.”

  “Yes, he is beautiful.” Then Lindy laughed, joined by Isabella.

  Chapter 9: One Thousand Bushels

  Tom served breakfast and took his chair. “Well fellas, I talked with the District Attorney yesterday, and Harry was out on bail in New Orleans, but they dropped the case, so he is back here in Amarillo. He was charged with assault. The New Orleans’ DA was pretty tight-lipped. That’s all the information I could get. If you see him hanging around, let me know and I’ll get a restraining order against him. Just be careful and stay alert. Don’t be an easy target.”

  “Micah, I made ready a bedroom here in the house for you, if you want it.” He already knew the answer. The boy wanted his independence, and the suite in the barn gave him that.

  “No thanks. I’m not going to change my life for some unknown. I may be a kid, but I’m not helpless. And besides, I’ve got Raggéd and the coyotes to watch after me. I promise to be more cautious. But I’m more worried about you all.”

  Cory interrupted his friend, “
But in your nightmares, you’re the one that gets hurt, nobody else.”

  “That’s a dream.” Micah stated. “I’ve never had a dream that foretold the future. Maybe they’re expressions of my own fears. That’s what Mr. Rathbone said.” Micah discerned that Tom Dorsey was the real target, and Harry wanted to cause him grief. To do that, he would hurt Micah. That way Harry satisfied two of his perversions: an almost uncontrollable hate toward people with authority; and an obscene pleasure in hurting young boys.

  “I need to get the chores done.” Micah left the kitchen followed by Cory.

  “Cory confronted his friend in the barn. “Harry’s wants to hurt you. You need Tom’s protection.”

  Micah stopped his work. “Tom is the target, and I’m just the means Harry will use to get to him. I know the risk. I’m more afraid of his games. He might hurt you or one of the others before he gets to me. Have you thought about that? And Henry, he’s out in the prairie all by himself, and he doesn’t know the threat. Harry could really harm him and make it look like an accident.”

  “You mean kill him.”

  “You finally understand.” Micah paused. “You can lock me away for protection, and that still wouldn’t stop someone from getting hurt. I need to be the focus. That might make it easier to checkmate Harry, or at least protect you all.”

  Micah thought for a second and then smiled. “Or maybe we put him down first.” Cory gasped because his friend was not joshing.

  Time slowly moved along that morning, but finally it was lunchtime and Micah was ready for his run. The wind was brusque as he walked to the north side of the school to meet with the coach for the time trial; his friends went along to watch. All were dressed in their gym shorts as they approached Mr. Terry, who stood next to the door with another man, a young and suntanned guy with a shaved head. A track had been laid out and bulldozed. A layer of compacted clay covered its surface.

  Micah read that runners needed carbs for energy and had downed a candy bar before heading to the track for his warm up. After about 15 minutes, the coach and the other fellow approached him.

  Mr. Terry put his hand on Micah’s shoulder. “Sherwood, this is Coach Britt from Camino del Rio. He will help train you.”

  “What’s your given name,” the new coach asked.

  “Micah.”

  “Micah, how much do you run in a week?”

  “I run intervals three or four times a week. Each run is usually between five and 10 miles,” the boy replied.

  “Why intervals?”

  “I read that intervals improve endurance and strengthens the heart.”

  Coach Britt nodded his head yes. “Have you ever run in competitions? Ever been timed?”

  “No sir.”

  “Any cardio training besides the running?

  “I’m taking boxing classes where we do cardio.”

  “What’s the name of your boxing coach?”

  “Coach Ramsey at Palo Duro,” Micah replied.

  “I know him. He’s good. He’ll push you hard.”

  Then the coach motioned Micah and the other boys to follow him. They walked to the starting line. “There is a strategy when running the 5K race. You start out slowly, and you close the race with your fastest speed. Don’t spend all of your energy at the start. Before a race, you need 30 minutes for warm up, which is hard to get in the middle of a school day, so you need to leave lunch a little early on the days you practice run.”

  “After the first kilometer, you speed up. Focus on the runners ahead of you and start matching their speed. At 3.5 kilometers, target a runner and pass him, and then do it all over again. Increase your speed as needed to overtake your competition. During the last half kilometer, you need to focus on the Finish Line and give it your all to get there first and fast. The goal is not just to win, but to beat your previous times. Any questions?”

  “None, okay, Micah I want you on the outside lane to start.” The coach turned to Mr. Terry. “Pick out the two fastest boys to run with Micah.”

  Truitt picked Cory and Jan.

  Coach Britt looked at the three boys. “You two line up next to Micah. While running, always keep your back straight and land your feet under your body. Keep your shoulders loose and never look at the ground as you run; look at the horizon, at your targets, but never look down. I will get more into posture later. When I blow the whistle, you start running. This is a 400 meter tract. Five thousand meters will be 12 and a half times around the field. I will be positioned at the finish line and will blow the whistle once when you start your final lap and a continuous whistle when the winner crosses the line. Even if you don’t come in first, keep running because we still need to set your baseline time. Let me show you the proper take-off stance.” He lowered his body, one foot behind the other, arms outstretched and hands on the ground. The boys watched and then practiced the take off for a while.

  “Get ready.” There was a pause as the boys got into line, and then the coach blew the whistle.

  The boys took flight. There was a stiff wind from the southwest so times would be slow. He noted that on his clipboard. The coach handed Beau a timer and told him to focus on Jan; Mr. Terry would watch Cory and Coach Britt handled Micah.

  Both Micah and Cory had good form, and it was obvious they had running experience. They were big boys for their age, their bodies were well toned, and both seemed focused on the process. For the first kilometer, the three runners stayed pretty much together. By the end of the third kilometer, Jan had dropped a little. On the 4th kilometer, Cory was slightly ahead of Micah, and Jan was a good distance behind. At the start of the final lap, Cory was an eighth of a lap ahead, but Micah pushed himself into overdrive and overtook his friend and finished.

  The three runners stayed on the track for recovery as the coaches recorded the times and racing conditions into the session’s log and then discussed the results privately.

  “Okay gentlemen,” Coach Britt walked down to where the runners were standing. “Jan, your time was 25:30 minutes. Cory was 24:01. And Micah, you made the 5K in 23:26. These are all good times and competitive for young runners. I expect that any of you could win a race against the other schools. But we can only enter one boy in the 5K, and this is Micah’s race.”

  By this time, the regular PE class was in session. All of the runners went with Coach Britt, and the regular PE class followed Coach Terry.

  “This is the plan,” Britt commenced. “We will run three days each week. The other two days will be cardio training and instruction. There will be four meets, and each meet will include only track events. Both Coach Terry and I will work with you and the 5th graders. The elementary level races will be on Saturday mornings, so you need to let me know if that’s a problem. The first meet will be a 9:00 a.m. on April 24th at Hamlin Primary. The 5K run will always be the last event. Runners need to be there at 8:00.”

  Micah raised his hand.

  “Yes.” Coach Britt asked.

  “Why are you here, just to help Mr. Terry?”

  The coach grinned. “I am looking at what’s coming down the pike. Some day you will be at the Junior High and I want to see the talent that I’ll inherit. Coach Terry selected the boys he believed would be the best and most competitive. And based upon the 5K time trial today, I am going to have a fine bunch of boys in junior high.

  Micah was excited about running the 5K, but as he walked alone to the barn after school, he was also overwhelmed. He led Styx out of his stall, bridled him and took off headed toward the dilapidated hospital. After tying the horse to the fence, Micah went through the hallways and climbed the stairs to the highest roof section. He looked down at Styx, who was munching on some of the new grass. Turning and facing the city, he watched the old smelter belched smoke into the otherwise clear sky.

  His depression had been hanging around since breakfast when Mr. Dorsey told them about the old foreman. Everything seemed to be pressuring him, and he needed to run; running liberated him. So he returned home and put the hors
e into the corral. Micah changed into some cutoffs and a T-shirt. He grabbed his canteen and some jerky and then went in to see the old man. “Tom, I need to run so I won’t be back for supper. I got some jerky packed.”

  He looked at Micah. Tension surrounded the boy. “What’s the problem?”

  “I need alone time. I have to think. I’m stretched a little thinly right now. I’ll stay near the creek. I’ll head back at sundown; I should be home by 8:00. I’ll check in with you.”

  “Do that, and be cautious. Take Raggéd with you. Please be careful, I wish I could go along.” Micah’s skin prickled from the old man’s fear.

  “Don’t worry, I’m okay. Harry’s not anywhere near. I’m juggling a lot of things, and I need to get my arms around them; that’s all it is.”

  Tom was relieved. Micah’s reddish-brown eyes sparkled with life and knowing. He watched the boy lead the dog through the fence heading northward. He sat at the kitchen table with a glass of lemonade. He thought back to last August when he first met Micah. The child seemed to have aged 10 years over the last eight months. He had changed; everything about him matured. He could pass for a high schooler without a problem. “How is that possible?” Cory too, they both seemed connected; what happens to one gets reflected in the other. This also applied to a lesser degree with Tandy and Dane.

  Mr. Malvern mentioned the same changes. That was the reason he was pushing Micah so hard to jump grades. He seemed out of place in 4th Grade, not just because of his intelligence, but socially as well. The principal mentioned a girl Micah met at the Junior High. Mr. Dorsey smiled. But Micah had the naivety of a 10 year old, the gentleness of a child. He was an enigma.

  And this thing with Harry, Tom felt that Micah was playing the role of the father. His gut said there was danger but he had no idea how to handle it other than to tie Micah up and keep him locked away, never letting him out until the menace passed. But if he corralled the boy, Micah’s predisposition toward depression would manifest, and that could be equally as bad.”