Ford At Valverde

by Anita Melillo

skirt’s and all

  It was an uncomfortable greeting at first, but set in motion just the same. She acted as though nothing had come between the cordiality that ensued. Annabelle had prepared a simple breakfast of biscuits, eggs and gravy, which Daniel had eaten ravenously until his plate had been wiped clean with the remains. Then he sipped at his coffee, glad that she had taken the time to prepare as much. Although she hadn’t actually joined them at the table, but stayed busy doing menials around the room.

  Emmett, however, had fueled as many questions as Daniel could muster the courage to answer. The boy had combed his way through the meal as well, and made it obvious that he was enjoying the company.

  The travels that Daniel had concocted for the journey ahead seemed the sort of treasure hunt a boy his age would create fantasies of his own about, as he had spent many hours turning the grounds outside of the house with an axe pick in search of buried glass jars with hidden money. Emmett had discovered as much as twenty three dollars altogether the previous summer that his father must have buried in hindsight, and once had uncovered an old platelet tin that contained a tarnished silver ring band and two metal buttons. He had never gotten any direct answers from his Grandmother concerning the find, but figured that if she had buried them at some point in her life, they must have been intended to stay there, forgotten like the old plow shear that was wedged beneath the mildewed hay in the barn loft. It hadn’t seen the sun or dry air in so long that the wooden handle had half rotted off and the blade near rusted into.

  Daniel took delight in the eager way the boy expressed himself, and Annabelle tried not to smile at the fondness that was developing between them. They had sat and talked for more than an hour, when Annabelle could sense how tired Daniel had become. It was with so much effort that he had gotten to the table in the first place, that she wondered how he ever made it to her room the night before. Then she settled on the thought that he must have been sleep walking and confused about being in her home.

  His hair was still caked with muddy streaks that had since dried, and his back and chest were sorely scraped and bruised so that she knew more rest was needed. In an attempt to speed his healing she applied more ointment to the wound on his shoulder and wrapped a sling made from a flour mill sack around his arm, so as to keep it elevated. There had been very little talk about plans for the day, but she had taken the initiative to recover some of her deceased husbands’ old clothes; a pair of trousers, cotton shirt and jacket, along with long-handles and boots, for him to get changed into. There was a vase of warm water in a guest room on the main floor, where he would be able to wash and shave if he so desired.

  “Well, this is the most satisfied my stomach’s been in a long time,” he boasted about the breakfast. “It’s the best food I’ve ever had,” and thanked her with a wink.

  Annabelle was discovering her tolerance for people again, and this one she still questioned, but they helped him to the guest room anyway and allowed him to sleep off his worries for a spell.

  It was later in the afternoon that he awoke, and made himself presentable, though awkward without end. He was pushing his way around with a cane stick he had found beside the bed, and had unwrapped the sling from his arm, as it only hindered his movements. His shoulder still ached, but hardly any more than his ego would allow.

  Beyond the front hallway was the screen door that led to the side porch. Annabelle and Emmett had been busy making amends for all that was out of place. She had since cleaned up the living room from any sign of disturbance, and Emmett had cleaned the damp paint from the steps and floor. All the while, laundry had been washed and was being hung up to dry. It was chilly out, as the cold wind whipped at his face and fingers when he stepped outside.

  Annabelle didn’t see him at first, until the dogs started barking again. She had been so involved in her duties, and trying to keep the blue sweater tied to ward off the chill, that she was taken off guard when he walked around to the side yard where she was. It was as though another man had come calling, with some dignity about him and more height to his deliberated step.

  “Tarry on, my fair maiden. Can I give you hand with this? I can use my free arm at least,” he teased with a bow as he leaned most of his weight onto the cane.

  “I see it all fits,” she was pleased the clothes were put to good use, as she strung another towel to the line of rope. Then she stopped what she was doing to take a gander at him as he stepped in closer.

  His hair was now a clean dark blonde that was one long layer to his shoulders. He had pulled it back into a ponytail and the beard and mustache were gone. And though the trim wasn’t an entirely close shave, his face took on a definition she hadn’t noticed before. In fact, she tried not to blush when he ducked beneath the line and joined her on the other side.

  Her hair was pinned up, but long wispy strides blew across her face and lips. He reached over and removed one gently that was clinging against her cheek and she turned away, despite her impulse to remain. The dogs got excited, not knowing if his company was welcome and went to growling at his knees.

  “Shoo!” yelled Annabelle as she scatted them away and they hurried back a short distance and then plopped down in the grass. Two of the smaller ones ran to the front porch, as though keeping guard.

  Daniel had watched them tear way fearfully at the sound of her voice, and her authority was evident.

  “I do appreciate it,” he said. “I’m likely to flog the next one that comes tearing towards me with this cane. Damn near have a leg full of bites already.”

  “You don’t?” she questioned in surprise.

  “Afraid so,” he nodded and then looked hastily to the sky, not wanting to show his anger. “Mauled by man and beast, now all I’ve got to do is settle up with both.”

  “I wouldn’t advise it,” she shook her head and picked up the empty basket. “You lived to tell about it, and that’s enough. Besides, I know a safer way out where you can go unnoticed.”

  At that, a loud thump sounded in the barn and the Shepherds went running to it.

  “Emmett!” she yelled, and hurried to see what had happened.

  Shafts of light streaked through the open slits in the barn wall, and the dust in the air floated like mites and molecules in whirling circles. Annabelle covered her mouth and coughed, and Emmett stood proudly in the loft with his hair and wool jacket covered in hay.

  “What on earth were you thinking, son?” she asked him as the rusted plow shear was halfway stabbed into the dirt floor where it landed, as the handle rattled like a tinged violins bow.

  Daniel made it inside where he could see the predicament, and Emmett only marveled at the view.

  “You looked so different that I hardly knowed it was you!” he shouted.

  “What do you mean, Emmett? That thing hasn’t gotten any use left and we’ve already talked about it!” his mother insisted.

  For the moment, he acted as if she hadn’t spoken at all and looked directly at Daniel.

  “It’s a big tool, isn’t it? See.., I’ve got the idea that I can get what’s overgrown cleaned up and when Grandmamere comes home, she’ll think you did it and let you stay. That way you can teach me to play cards! I’ll be a good hand in no time!”

  Daniel smiled with some satisfaction at his insight. He could tell that the boy was desperate for some company, and was encouraged by his liking to him.

  Annabelle gasped. “You come down from there, right now!” she insisted. “We’re gonna do as I said, and I suppose now is the time!”

  Then she turned on one heel and hurried back toward the house. A few minutes later she had returned with a basket and her rifle. She thrust the basket into Emmett’s arms and said, “Come on! We’d best go now before you go making any more plans!”

  Daniel didn’t know where they were going. He didn’t understand why she had gotten so upset. They boy had meant well, but even he didn’t say a word in complaint as they traipsed through the field
of burrs and wheat straw. He did his best to keep up the pace as he labored over the lumpy path that Annabelle beat clear with the gun barrel, swiping at the grass as the air shifted upward, skirts and all.

  Once they made it to the top of a hill that had gradually crested for three-quarters of a mile, she stopped. Short for breath and in need of some perspective, the house was just a gray tree-lined dot in the distance. Emmett sat the basket down and shrugged his arms as though at a loss and picked at the grass, while Daniel strained the last few steps to a flat boulder. He laid back on it and heaved.

  “I didn’t mean to press you so hard,” Annabelle apologized, though she barely looked him in the eye when she spoke.

  Daniel was still trying to catch his breath, coughing as he might and said, “You’re just doing as you see it best for the boy, I’m sure.”

  Across the valley, where the barn roof emerged from the grass like something afloat, was a flock of birds that landed and perched on its ridge.

  “Doesn’t look half bad from here, does it?” she asked, although it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself.

  “Didn’t look half bad from down there,” he smiled and leaned up on his elbows, trying not to laugh as it cut at his sides when he did.

  She looked at him with a gentler more tired nod, and pushed his leg. He bellowed out like one of the dogs and she laughed, feeling glad for his companionship, and then the smile diminished with the passing clouds.

  He sat up and nudged his arm against her, looking her square on and said, “You know.., you’re beautiful when your face lights up like that.”

  There was hardly much to say in response. She had never been told as much before, and the compliment came unguarded.

  “And you’re nothing more than a flatterer, Daniel Stone,” she dismissed him as quickly.

  He had snapped off a strand of grass and began to whittle it between his teeth. Then he spit it out.

  “Nope,” he responded and stood back up, but this time extending his good hand down to help her up.

  “You could call me a lot of things,” he continued, “heaven knows I’ve been called worse.., but flatterer’s not one of them. I call it the way I see it. Like it or not.”

  She took his hand and stood as well, accepting his words like punishment, with a simple. “Thank you, then.”

  Twigs crackled and thrashed against the ground as Emmett came running up. He had found the trail that led to the small shanty.

  “We’d best go on,” she replied as she bent down and took the gun, and then teased, “But don’t go getting any peculiar ideas. Just because you hit a soft spot doesn’t make me your slave for life.”

  “As you wish,” he extended a hand forward for her to lead the way, feeling more thoughtful about the position he was in. Then they continued on, but at a slower stride, as Emmett skipped ahead.

  Annabelle asked him about the winters in Wisconsin and if he had family there.

  He replied, “I’ve got a brother who’s a Minister. It consumes his life. And then another brother that keeps a store. Spends most of his time thinking about all the other places he’d rather be.”

  “Do they have families?” she questioned, all the while studying his face, but not wanting to make it obvious.

  “Sure do,” he said. “How about you, beyond Emmett and your in-law?”

  “It’s just me and Emmett really,” she replied. “There’s kin on Emmett’s side, but I never cared much for ‘em,” she paused to see what Emmett was pointing to.

  They were on a piney ridge and in the thicket of trees and bushy palms, and at the base of the slope was a red coyote dragging away a rabbit, or some kind of fresh kill. The dogs had picked up the scent and had scurried down the bank, barking as they went. Emmett tossed up his hands and found a cypress stump to stand on, and watched with interest at the chase and quarrel.

  “We’d best stay put until they come back,” she explained. “As much of a nuisance as they are, it’s risky to go on without ‘em.”

  Daniel agreed and was glad for another chance to rest. He was feeling stronger in the crisp moist air than he had earlier, but the soreness lingered.

  “I’m not really from around here,” she said and continued to explain that she was raised in one of the southernmost parts of Georgia, and was the daughter of sharecroppers. She had four other brothers and sisters that had all worked together as a family to harvest cotton, when a bout of scarlet fever hit. She said that they were too poor to go see a doctor and once her mother came down with the fever, it had claimed all but herself the same summer.

  “I was sixteen at the time and was walking down the road when Emmett’s father and his mother stopped by the way. They were going to Savannah for some holiday,” she said. “Fourth of July, I believe. Anyway, it wasn’t that I was lost, but I needed to tell someone about my Daddy. He had just up and died while digging a place of burial for my little sister. Suppose his heart gave out from too much grief.”

  By this time, the dogs had returned with panting tongues from having given the coyote a good run, and Emmett was rewarding them with pats on the heads for such hard work and talking to them with high pitched sentiments. Daniel laughed and shook his head, and Annie agreed with a smile. Then they continued along the overgrown trail again.

  Daniel took a speculative glance down from where she was walking beside him, even more curious about the woman that was leading him astray.

  “How did his father die?” he asked.

  She was hesitant to reveal so much at first, but considered it to be irrelevant either way. She would be sending him up the river soon enough, so it wouldn’t hurt to share about her past, and felt good in the simplicity of having conversation.

  “Consumption,” she said briskly, ready to change the subject again. “There was nothing we could do once he started coughing up blood.”

  Daniel stopped and began shaking his foot around as though something was bothering him. She paused to see what was wrong, as he pulled up his pants leg. There were bite marks in several places where the skin was marred and blue.

  Annabelle thought the boots must have been bothering him, but when she looked down at his calve and saw the lacerations, swollen red and filled with pus, she was practically bothered to tears.

  “I don’t know what kind of dogs they were,” he sighed wearily. “Hounds from hell, I suppose. Blue and black spotted with silvery white eyes that pierced right through,” he replied.

  Emmett went over and crouched down on the ground. “Yuk! That’s gotta hurt worse than peekons stuck in your heels!”

  Annabelle dismissed his remark and stomped at the dogs to scat their noses away from his wounds.

  “Fasse!... Go away dogs!” she shied with a warning, as though cajun was part of her natural dialect. Then she said, “Catahoula’s Loyal to their masters, but ‘ll tear into anything else. Anyway, you need something on that since it’s all festered up. It could become gangrenous if not.”

  He judged it with a sigh and lowered the cuff. There was nothing that he could do about it himself, so he just bore the longevity of the strides.

  “Do you miss him?” he asked her a few minutes later.

  “Not like I should, I suppose. Thing is that I was never really sure why he married me,” she paused. “I don’t know if it was pity, loneliness, or if he was just plain horny.”

  Daniel scoffed, and began to walk on, somewhat surprised, but already had a taste of her sensibilities. “Suppose a man could be guilty of the three and then have all his needs met at once.”

  She turned toward him with a mischievous laugh and wanted to throw dirt at him, but she simply carried on instead, like the deed was commonplace.

  “You’ve probably done as much yourself,” she said in response and pretended not to care about the answer.

  “Not yet, anyway,” he replied.

  Then she told him about the trouble with her mother-in-law, Myra, and how they were
never close. Emmett only reminded her of what was lost, since he resembled his father with an uncanny likeness. Only his ways were more a mirror of someone else, perhaps the missing links from her childhood, or maybe he was just altogether different, the way that people can grow so opposite and still share the same blood.

  Daniel wondered why she stayed there, but even she didn’t know the answer to that, except for the security of protecting her son from all else that was uncertain.

  “Besides,” she said “you came well prepared and look how far you got.”

  “I’m still traveling, little lady, and my luck could change by tomorrow,” he replied, even though he hardly believed it himself without his belongings, a compass, some money, or the map. It was more or less hopeful thinking.

  There was an uneven way that she glanced at him when she said, “Why you talk as if I’m some debutante just now discovering the ways of the world, but there is no naivety here. And I’ve as yet to see anything good fall right from the sky.”

  Rather than to risk offending her, he stood in place and watched as she went a few steps ahead, allowing some distance between them. There was something about her that intrigued him to the core, and a part of him wanted to hold her, to absorb her hurt and then release it into the air, but that wasn’t likely to happen, especially since they had reached the shanty.

  It was a house of limbs and misshapen boards that appeared as though it floated on the broken stretch of stream. The marsh was thick with fat vines and roots that entangled it like a wooden snare. And though there was no visible sign of anyone living there, it still wasn’t the kind of place where he wanted to bed down.

  It had lopsided posts for support, and Emmett was the first to step onto the pier that was wobbly and missing some planks. It seemed stable enough to him when he turned to demonstrate his bravery, and then it all but collapsed beneath him. He grabbed onto the side rail as his legs kicked about in the water, wet to his waist and losing his grip.

  Daniel hurried over and anchored a strong hold to his arm, as he was hoisted him back onto the decking.

  “Easy does it,” he said as Emmett’s upper body plopped onto the part of the pier that was still standing. “You just got ahead of yourself, that’s all.”

  His clothes were now soaked. The temperature was still cold for winter and he was shivering at the knees like a wet dog.

  Annabelle took off her sweater and draped it over him, scolding him at the same time. “You’ve got to be more careful, son. This place is breeding ground for Caimon and Mocassin’s, you know that!”

  He accepted her embrace as his teeth chattered, while Daniel made his way past to the door that hung crooked on its hinges. Then he used the cane to push the door, which creaked halfway open until it wedged against a raised board on the floor. Inside was a cast iron stove with ivy growing up its smoke stack, and the floor was partially covered with leaves that had weathered there for years. A crumpled up blanket, hard and crusty from the moisture and dirt, was lying on the floor in the corner. He moved it with the cane and several cockroaches scurried into the cracks.

  Annabelle and Emmett had entered the room and were in disbelief at the wonder.

  “So this is the plan?” Daniel asked without expressing his concern.

  Annabelle was defensive. “It’s a roof over your head if you need it and a good place to hide,” she replied as though unsure of it herself.

  He walked around and knocked on the floor with the cane, testing its vulnerability, and decided to release her from her worries.

  “It’ll do just fine,” he turned to her with all the cordiality that said her assistance was appreciated.

  Emmett shook his head, angry and confused, and sloshed his way out of the room and back across the pier that remained. Then he looked under the railing at the logs braced together, fixed above the water by ropes, yet still caught up in the vines.

  “I found the raft!” he yelled. “It’s fastened tight. I’ll climb down and undo it.”

  Annabelle went outside to caution him, waving him on with her hands and speaking in a frustrated husky tone, “Just leave it for now, Emmett. I only said it was an easy way out. I didn’t say he had to take it!”

  Footsteps were heard behind her, and she turned to see Daniel scratching his chin, acting as though he hadn’t overheard, but there was sarcasm in his voice.

  “It’ll be getting dark soon. Should I gather up some wood for the stove?” he questioned.

  “No,” she replied, embarrassed by the compromise and Emmett’s added excitement. “I’m afraid someone would see the smoke. Besides we’d best get back before the boy catches fever, lest we should wind up having to feel our way home in the dark.”

  “I’m already hungry,” said Emmett as the wind sent another chill in his direction.

  She lifted the crumpled cloth from the top of the basket and handed him a round piece of bread.

  “Here then,” she replied and offered some to Daniel as well.

  The sun had all but shown its shadow against the grassy bank, as it crept towards the woods like a silent wanderer. The air was bitter cold, but there was warmth within.

  languid like silk