by Glover, Dan
From what the boy gathered his aunt was something of a celebrity from where she came from, someone to admire, a queen, perhaps, or at least a princess. But when he looked at her, Church only felt the hair on the nape of his neck stand up like the time he heard the wolves howling close by on a cold winter's night and he was all alone and wondering if the thin walls of the tiny chabola would keep them at bay should they come calling.
Though she didn’t realize he was watching, he stood in the tall brush at the edge of the clearing and stared, marveling at how the migrant men approached Tia Evalena Gutiérrez on their stomachs, crawling on the ground like snakes as if they were not good enough to stand up and look the vivacious beauty of a woman in the eyes. Perhaps they too were frightened of her. Church thought how ridiculous the men looked but he didn't have the audacity to laugh lest he give away his hiding spot and besides, there was nothing funny about it.
Tia stood over the men with her one enormous eye closed and her face turned upward to the sky while muttering utterances in Spanish that Church couldn't understand and saying them so quickly that even if he did speak the language he doubted he could keep up with the fast moving train of words spilling from her mouth. He wondered if she was giving them advice but from the tone of her speech it sounded more like orders.
When she turned and disappeared into the chabola the men rose from the ground while bowing and brushing dirt and leaves off their clothes and then wandering away with their heads still down and their hats in their hands and walking backwards until they were out of sight.
Who else could wield a power like that over strangers, men who knew only of the woman she was rumored to be and never Evalena herself? On the other hand, the women—the wives of the workers—seemed to shun his aunt and if they did happen to see the girl they unleashed a barrage of insults upon her. They seemed to have none of the fear or respect offered up by the men yet when she turned on them one look from Evalena sent the women scurrying away like scolded children caught doing something wrong.
Despite his Tia's admonitions Church kept up his friendship with Billy Ford. They rode the bus to school together each morning and home again in the afternoon and sometimes Billy brought a handheld electronic game which he showed Church how to play. He must have noticed how it delighted him because the next thing he knew Billy had given it to him.
"You can have this old game, Church. I have another one. Father bought me a new one for my birthday. Here are some extra batteries."
"Thank you, Billy Ford. Someday I'll repay you for being so nice to me."
"What are brothers for, Church?"
It puzzled him that Billy Ford would from time to time call him brother but Church had learned from books he read that some people did that to seal a friendship. Sometimes great friends even made a cut on their hands and pressed them together while mingling their blood and became brothers in that fashion. But even that didn't mean they were really brothers, only that they'd shared something in common which brought them closer than ordinary people. At the same time, however, he couldn't help but note how much they looked alike, he and Billy Ford.
While he had a slim build and his own skin was dark and his hair and eyes flashy black, Billy sported husky frame, a paler complexion, and his hair was a dirty sort of blonde. Still, their facial features mirrored one another in uncanny ways like twins birthed four years apart. Was it merely a coincidence that Church was born and raised on the same ranch as Billy Ford or were there other forces at work?
"Where did you get that toy, Church?"
He could never sneak anything past Tia Evalena. Whenever Billy Ford gave him something special like the hand-held game his aunt was bound to know about it. Could she read his mind? Church didn’t doubt it.
"A friend at school let me borrow it, Tia... I'm to bring it back tomorrow."
"Does your mother know what a little liar you are, Church Gutiérrez?"
For a moment he wondered if his aunt might take his toy from him but the girl only gave him one of her sideway glances as she glided into the back room where she stayed. Was that a smile upon her lips? Sometimes he thought his wicked deeds were more to her likings that the good ones.
Years passed Church by like the sweet days of summer when he was still little and allowed to stay at the chabola by himself where he indulged in his reading under the great green tree at the old church or while lounging in the many gardens while his mother was away working at the hacienda. After his aunt arrived he had to wait until Tia was off doing things of her own to which he was never privy nor did he ever know when she might return.
He liked being alone better. For a long time he'd waited for the day when Tia might leave the chabola and go back to whatever life she'd lived before arriving in Texas. She never seemed inclined to doing so, however, and after a while Church decided her home was now with them, for better or worse.
When Church was eight years old Rancher Ford appeared at the chabola on a bright late spring day when new beginnings were blowing in the breeze and brilliant dandelions lifted their yellow heads to the sun and orange and black monarchs fluttered all around him in the sweet smelling breeze that promised rain but always reneged. Rancher Ford rode a big gray horse and Billy Ford sat beside him on a smaller one pure white and they'd brought a third pony with them spotted dark brown and light tan and small enough that Church ventured to wonder if he might be able to ride him.
The man looked like a knight of the round table and Billy his squire and Church couldn't believe Rancher Ford had come to speak with him. Everything changed for Church that day though at the time he didn't understand the depths of the revolutions occurring in his life.
Tia Evalena was about somewhere. Church kept waiting for her to come bursting out of the door to chastise him for talking to the stranger on the horse though in fact the man was not unfamiliar at all to him. He knew exactly who he was but he couldn’t figure out what the man was doing there. Looking at Billy Ford he broke into a smile.
"My mother is not here, sir."
The words sounded stupid as soon as he spoke them but why would a man like Rancher Ford come to the tiny shack in the middle of nowhere to talk with a little boy he did not know? He must've had business with his mother though for the life of him Church couldn’t understand why the man didn’t take it up with her at the hacienda where she was working.
"I didn’t come here to talk with your mother. I came to see you. I hear tell that you are a hombre to be reckoned with, little man. Tell me your name."
Church Gutiérrez knew now just how those men felt who came to pay their respects to his Tia. He couldn't seem to raise his eyes to look at the man still sitting high on the prancing gray gelding looking down on him as if he was something insignificant and paltry and hardly worth his time.
"Church… my name is Church."
"Look at me when you speak, Church. Always look a man in the eyes when you're talking to him, otherwise folk might come to believe you've something to hide. Do you know who I am?"
"You're my father."
It surprised him to say it but he knew it was true and the words were out of his mouth and into the light of day before he could catch his tongue and tell it to stop. Rancher Ford didn't look surprised, however. He gave a big hearty laugh, stepped down from his horse, and came to Church's side where he knelt and taking him by both shoulders looked the boy straight in the eyes.
"That's right, little man. I've heard a lot about you. I want to invite you to start coming to the hacienda. We need a strong set of hands to help around the ranch. Are you up to it, Church?"
"Yes sir… oh, and sir?"
"Yes… what is it, Church?"
"What should I call you, sir?"
"Well... how about you call me Rancher Ford for now and we'll see how that sounds. Is that okay with you, Church?"
Church had always known that he had a father as all children had fathers. And for the last two years his suspicions were growing ever stronger as to whom that father was. N
ow that he knew, he wanted to run and shout it to the world. But he understood if he did, it would bring shame on the big man on his high gray horse and upon his brother Billy Ford and that he could never do.
"Yes, sir… that sounds fine, Rancher Ford."
"Okay… now that that's settled, how about we take a ride, Church... have you ever been on top of a pony before?"
"No sir... but he looks friendly."
"Yes he is, Church... we brought along the most docile pony in the corral. I'd a feeling you two might get on together. His name's Lanky. We call him that on account of his long legs. Ponies enjoy hearing our voices, Church, so talk to him."
"What should I say?"
"Oh, the words don't matter so much as your quality of voice, Church. Always speak in low tones and even if Lanky makes you mad, never holler at him. Ponies remember if anyone's mean to them."
Sitting in the saddle on top of Lanky, Church felt like the squire to a king too, riding to his destiny at a castle far away. As the pony moved beneath him the boy could feel muscles rippling as he stepped over the prairie sod carefully placing his hooves so as to miss gopher holes.
As they rode away from the chabola he saw the curtain move in the lonely window and he knew Tia Evalena had been watching. Why hadn't she made an appearance? Was it possible she was intimidated by the big man upon the high gray horse? If so, he thought how it was a secret that might be worth keeping.
He became shy about how poor they lived when Rancher Ford and Billy brought the little boy to the hacienda inviting him inside for a drink of sweet iced tea after the long ride and he couldn’t help but blink his eyes in amazement. The house was enormous with crystal chandeliers hanging from every ceiling and pictures mounted upon each wall. Surely only a king could live in such an abode.
Their tiny chabola was lighted with smoky oil lanterns and when they had to use the toilet they went to an outhouse parked out back of the tiny shack. That seemed more private, somehow. Though he had to urinate badly after drinking his tea, Church felt too self conscious to pee inside the hacienda even though Billy Ford showed him the bathroom that had a toilet with water in the bowl like the ones at school. Finally he sat down and tinkled like a little girl lest someone might hear him.
Looking out the huge kitchen window overseeing the ranchlands spread out before him as far as his eyes could see Church didn’t know what kind of work Rancher Ford could possibly need doing… there seemed a hundred men around the estate all charged with either building or fixing something and another hundred tending to the animals of every shape and color.
The big man with a continuous smile on his face seemed to sense Church's consternation when they took leave of the fine hacienda. He led the two boys down to a gathering of corrals where many splendid ponies were loitering about under tall and newly-leafed oak trees green and lush in the dry Texas sky. Rancher Food plucked a long shoot of grass and stuck it between his teeth as he squatted down and looked at the little boy squarely in the eyes.
"You know, I've been thinking that these ponies need a friend, Church. I see the way Lanky has taken to you already. Ponies have a sense of things we humans sometimes lack. Are you willing to come here every day and help to take care of them? It's a big responsibility for such a little man. Think carefully before you answer."
He had no idea how to be a friend to ponies or how to take care of them and thoughts of his Tia and her anger at his disobeying her directives swirled through Church's mind as he heard himself agreeing to come to the hacienda every day and look after the awesome critters. Just being close to such miraculous animals lent him the confidence that he would not let his father down.
He had no thought of money but Rancher Ford reached an enormous hand into the high pocket of the bib overalls that he wore and hauled out a crumpled five dollar bill. It was more money than Church ever had and for a moment he wondered if the big man was going to tease him with it. Suddenly though it was in his hand.
"Here you go, Church. A man who watches ponies should have a little spending money in his pocket. You two boys go and play now… I have some business in town. Oh, and Billy?"
"Yes, father?"
"Watch out for your brother. Show him around and make sure he gets home okay… and feed him, Billy. Church looks hungry."
"Yes sir… I will."
That day when he arrived home instead of being angry Tia Evalena gave him a look of approval, as if he'd accomplished a great feat. Perhaps he had.
Chapter 13
She knew the boy would disobey him... that was a given.
Evalena Gutiérrez had knowledge of many things both good and evil. She was her fathers' gift to the world, after all, and she remembered how they each foretold of coming back from the dead in the guise of a child.
The stars fell on the night Church was born lighting up the sky as if it was noon and confused roosters each and every one began to crow for the dawn though it was just past midnight. The omens were all ill and somehow Evalena knew her fathers had returned. Only demons from beyond could stir such a ruckus.
She had told her sister Yani to drown the boy on that night he was born but of course mothers could not bear to bury their young. She had thought of doing it herself but what if she was wrong? What if she had misread the omens?
She could tell the boy was meant for great things. Someday all the land she could see in any direction would belong to Church and it wasn’t fair. She was the one who deserved the wealth of the world, not a little snot-nosed brat who didn’t know enough to speak his own mother's tongue.
Still, he was her blood, and with that came a certain responsibility that she'd long ago accepted as her own. Her sister was a dimwit, little more than an imbecile. She took after her father in that regard.
Evalena played as her fathers' daughter but only as a disguise against time. She was actually far older than the men who she called father yet they managed the game well like poker players unafraid to bluff. They'd all raised her in a singular fashion away from the prying eyes of the village where she came of age. One of them, perhaps her favorite, or maybe her least, Hajdani, was said to be a man of power. His power wasn't rooted in the riches of the sea and earth, however. Her fathers' power lay in knowing the blackened magic behind the politics of the world.
That particular father didn't know the ways of the light for isolated as they were Evalena only taught him her arts of darkness. It was all she knew... or perhaps it was that which she knew best.
Not wishing to expose him to the death that awaited all those with whom she became a familiar, she used another man—a boy, really—to produce the child while masquerading as a pregnant woman. It was all part of her black artistry... a way of sparing herself the pangs of giving birth while simultaneously keeping her lineage alive.
There were of course those who might frown on such doings... a man wasn’t able to give birth, at least not in a natural fashion. What she did to them was profoundly unnatural and even obscene yet she did it in accordance with their desires. They loved her. That was always their great undoing.
People talked. She'd learned long ago that the peasants and even the upper class—especially the rich and wealthy with nothing but time on their hands—had a propensity for spreading rumors whether true or not. Often times it was difficult if not impossible to hide her machinations from the rest of the villagers in the tiny Cuban enclave she had the daring to call home.
It was the same everywhere she went. At first they welcomed her with open arms. As the years passed they began to suspect that the pretty girl wasn't who she represented herself to be... power like hers had a way of exposing itself even to the unwary.
Eventually the talk turned mean. Usually she anticipated it happening but there were times when the rancor grew so quickly—exponentially, like a patch of nettle up to her ankles one day and chest high the next—that she'd no notion of the eruption before it occurred... a long dormant volcano suddenly awaking from its slumbers with a blast so powerful it overwhe
lmed everything in its vicinity.
She remembered how another one of her fathers whose name had been lost in the antiquity of time hid her in a tiny space under the house where they lived. Though the villagers had tried to sneak up on them, he must have heard a twig snap outside the window and instantly shuffled Evalena off to the vault. At least that's what she told herself.
"Take this, Evalena, but don't use it unless you're fearful they are about to take you prisoner... if that happens, pour the contents into your palm. Rub it into your skin and the sand will protect you from harm. And remember... no matter what you hear, don't come out until you see the day again."
He'd taken off the amulet worn around his neck and pressed it into her hands. There was a vacant look in his eyes that Evalena had never before noticed as if he was uncertain for the first time in his life as to what course of action he should take. He kissed her on the cheek as he shut the trap door to her hiding place.
There in the dark and for the first time she noticed that the amulet he had given her and which he had worn about his neck all the time he had known her contained a vial full of a miniscule amount of sand. Inside the glass each individual grain glowed like a fine jewel. Intrigued, she held the vial up to the ceiling attempting to discern the color of the material it contained. Sometimes it seemed green, but if she held it in a different way it appeared yellow or blue.
She was afraid. All her life she had been sheltered by those who loved her. It was something they chose to do, not anything she required of them. She was but a tiny thing incapable of fending off the ravages that the world saw fit to bestow upon her so she needed help. Now, though, she was alone and when she held the amulet up she saw how her hand trembled in fear.
It was a foreign feeling pulling the ropes in her stomach into a tight knot and at first Evalena wondered at the nature of such an emotion. An enormous crash and loud voices sounded overhead as the villagers had apparently broken down the door to the house and were now dragging her father out into the night.
