Ford At Valverde

by Anita Melillo

The rippled lines in the hedge of sandstone were like the veins in the glass marbles, streaked across time like layers of sediment upon which concealed truth. The haze of warmth spread broad and wide against the skyline that mirrored the valley and ebbed bright the sun. There were indications of glass in the stone which refracted in the rays that pierced against the shafts of light, and embellished the walls like strains of silk against a velvety lining.

  “Have you ever seen anything like it, Mama?” asked Emmett as he forced the fist of marbles back into his pocket.

  Her arm was lapped around his shoulders like a coveted claim, breathing in the dry air that made her feel light as a feather in the openness of wonder. “No, Emmett, I never knew such existed,” she smiled and then closed her eyes to it, captivating the stilled picture.

  The angling bush told a story of its own as the wind had twisted its limbs and bore it low against the ground. The sidewinder and scorpions were no strangers to its allure, and the holes were deep and narrow, wedged beneath the sand. Daniel had envisioned it many times, but the particulars were not the same. The land stretched so wide, cradled beneath the hill caps, that it seemed a stark image, to be as miniscule as the wiry patches that bushed from the ground. In fact, he wondered how they would keep good cover without being seen by the suspicious eye.

  It had taken weeks to get this far and New Mexico’s territory was brimming with thieves of every shape and size. It had already been the second time that scouts had tried to con them out of their belongings, but Daniel wasn’t about to be had again. Every cent that Annabelle had to her name was used to buy the double-seatter wagon and two horses that took them away from the bayou country. It had been a test of will and character to make the long haul with little else but bread and water. Daniel had figured that just as soon as they settled into the meager homestead, he would begin trapping.

  It was a two room adobe hut, which hosted the thorny shrub as a welcome mat and they all felt lucky to have found it. They were finally in the oasis of sandy earth with rocks piled upon rocks, and yet pristine palaces never rumored such promises of gold. It was no wonder that scoundrels from far and wide had fought the devil for the same chance at it, and Daniel felt a sense of pride to have arrived there, and yet compelled to forgo the dilly dallying and make himself at home.

  Convinced that they were in the right place, he at once began unloading the wagon of their belongings and water barrels. Emmett was all the help he needed, and Annabelle had a place picked out for everything.

  “It’ll sure be nice to sleep under a roof for a change,” she said as though making plans. “Looks like nobody’s lived here in a long time.”

  Daniel looked around eagerly to find that it was suitable enough, “Yep, and where they left off, we’ve got plenty.”

  The small room beyond the main area had a draped opening of a long leather skin that was shredded into strips and tacked in place. He rubbed his hand along the length of it, combing the feel of it between his fingers.

  “I like it,” said Emmett. “Do you think we could make some riding pants of our own?”

  Daniel nodded with the pleasantry of his find. “The hunting is good. Deer, antelope, bison and even sheep.”

  Annabelle looked over at Emmett and gave him a wink, glad they had weathered the stormy trail to get there.

  Daniel was already inside the room, shifting a firm grip around the stump of a bedpost that had ropes woven across the inside frame. It was still sturdy.

  Annabelle walked up behind him, wrapped her arms around his back and smoothed her hands inside his shirt, and rubbed his stomach.

  “Just imagine, if we caught us some of those sheep, we’d have some downing for the bed in no time.”

  He turned around and kissed her warm on the mouth. “We’ll have it all. Just you wait and see. You never will know for sure what all I’ll be bringing home.”

  “Home,” she grinned, “I do like the sound of it.”

  Then she pulled away from his grasp and stepped back through the opening. There was a wooden counter against one wall and an adobe recess for a fireplace, with some blackened wood among its ashes. She looked around and then back to Daniel, with an obvious scoff.

  “And if you think you’re just going to leave me here to dust the walls, you’ve got another thing coming,” she demanded.

  Emmett headed outside, but said to Daniel, “I’d keep the gun away from her if I was you.”

  “Emmett!” she protested as she walked outside behind him and stood against the wagon.

  Daniel teased, “That’s not a bad idea. She’d probably shoot at anything that came within a ten foot range.”

  “You can poke fun at my expense, but you can’t take my gun,” she insisted. “That is out of the question.”

  Daniel put his arm around her and whispered into her ear. “Okay then,” and kissed her on the cheek.

  Emmett laughed and looked away, now familiar with their affection and growing more comfortable with it. Then they all admired the view of the colors in the red and brown sandstone that blistered off the sun. It was brilliant indeed, and within the openness of their journey, the three had become a family.

  “Let’s go explorin’ some,” said Emmett, as he was less concerned with bedding down.

  Daniel put his arm around Annabelle’s shoulders and pulled her into him.

  “Everything should keep for a while, and we won’t wander too far,” he said.

  “Go on ahead then, and see where the stream winds up,” she replied. “We’ll need to refill those barrels.”

  However, she already believed that she had the answer for what they needed. There was a cage on stilts beside the small dwelling, constructed of sticks and vines. Some worn burlap sacks had been soiled into the ground, but she managed to pull one loose and shook it about. Then she went back to the wagon to get the two chickens, a black rooster and a red hen that remained.

  The sound of rushing water was getting ever closer as Emmett hurried ahead of Daniel. Within a short distance the stream had widened as the water washed over the heaps of rounded stones. Daniel only had to glance at Emmett before he was already shaking off his boots and ambling to jump in. He had laid the pistol on the ground and let his pants drop, until his bared behind was the last thing Emmett saw before he plunged into the water.

  Daniel yelped at the coolness of the water, but dove underneath and came up shaking his head in the light that glistened across the surface.

  “Aren’t you coming in?” he yelled.

  “No. I’ll go next,” he replied cautiously. “One of us better keep watch!”

  Daniel looked around, swirling his legs about in the water that swelled around his shoulders. “Ain’t nothing to worry about, boy! There’s nobody here but us and the birds.” He pointed to a hawk perched on a high limb above them.

  “Jump on it. It’s mighty fine!” he urged again.

  Emmett looked upward towards the winged creature and decided to let his caution go there, high amidst the branches, where anything moving around below would cause it to stir.

  It was the first chance for release that he had had since they left home. So he too unclothed and waded his way in until it was waist deep, feeling the icy cold current that made him tingle all over. But once he had gotten used to it, he thought of it more as a way to search for lost treasure, hidden beneath the rocks as he dove beneath and opened his eyes. A school of brim swam past, where he had seen flickers of light along the bottom. He reached down and hoisted a rock up out of the water and tossed it onto the bank, and then dove back down to forage underneath. After he had scooped up a handful of small round stones, he rose to the surface and held them in the light.

  “Look,” he said “and tell me what you think they are?”

  Daniel swirled his body around and glided over to where he was. Then he took the assortment of wet stones and swished them around in his palm, allowing the mud to sift through his fingers. The shimmer wa
s specks of silvery gold and copper.

  “Fools gold,” he replied. “But you know what they say?”

  “What?” asked Emmett, disappointed with his find, but eager to know the difference just he same.

  “Where there’s fools gold, there’s bound to be the real thing close by,” added Daniel.

  Emmett was content with his evaluation, and went back to searching the depths, and Daniel met the edge of the bank and climbed out, deciding it was time to get dressed. A few minutes later Emmett was beside him, pulling on his boots when Daniel shifted his hand over and showed the boy his own discovery.

  “Look what I found.”

  Emmett stared at the stone shaped tip of a spear, still sharp around its edges and jagged.

  “Are there more?” he asked.

  “Yep.., but let’s not worry your mother about it none, all right?” he stated in a concerned way that told Emmett it was for the best.

  Emmett suddenly looked worried, and he started walking back towards the woods.

  “Let’s go and get her. We should have her here, too. Besides that, she likes to fish,” he suggested.

  “Good idea,” Daniel replied. “First though, we need to find a way to catch ‘em.”

  A short while later they did return, with the burlap sack and used it as netting. Annabelle had dropped crumbles of bread that bobbed around on the surface of the water for some time before the fish were trusting enough to get that close. She laughed until her sides hurt from the agony of watching Daniel struggle with the net, splashing around, twisting and slapping at the water with the net, getting soaked from head to toe at his many failed attempts with the ones that got away. Finally though, he had managed to catch three medium sized trout, feeling satisfied and exhausted, as Emmett carried them back in a silver tin bucket.

  That evening, Annabelle had cooked the fish over the indoor flame and afterwards, Emmett had fallen asleep on the floor. He was snoring loudly and Daniel had joked about how tired he must have been, while he led Annabelle through the leather flaps into the bedroom and laid her down on a blanket that covered the woven frame. Then he nestled up beside her and stroked her hair, as she spoke openly about her thoughts.

  “You know, my Daddy used to call me Annie, but I like Belle better. Don’t you think it’s more modern than Annabelle?” she asked in a carefree manner.

  Daniel thought about it. “Belle’s a good name. A fresh start, a new name. I like it.., but what about your last name?”

  “It’s presently Dufrene,” she said with an auspiciously exaggerated tone.

  “Not for long, it ain’t,” he retorted. “Tell you what, Belle, soon as we stake our claim, I’m gonna do right by you little lady.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” she rolled over onto her side, “Mr. Stone.”

  “Anything you say, Belle Stone,” he kissed her on the lips, gentle like a breath of air.

  “Tell me again about the Tres Montosas,” she whispered flirtatiously between the fold of his lips, still curious about what the next day held.

  “Well,” he said as he drew back with a sigh and dwelled over the legend that played continually on his mind. “It’s three little mountains, where at it’s base lies hidden a fortune in gold. And they say it’s guarded by the ghost of a Spanish cavalier.”

  Annabelle pecked him gently on the side of his mouth with her lips and whispered again in a low voice. “It’s okay,” she teased. “I’m not the lit bit superstitious.”

  He returned her affection with another quick kiss on her mouth and grinned. “Well, you’ve heard of Coronado and the Seven Cities of Cobola, haven’t you?”

  She shook her head gingerly and toyed with his ear, gliding her finger down alongside it until it met the scoop of his collarbone.

  He smiled playfully again, nibbled on her finger and then cupped her hand in his.

  “Well,” he continued, “it was a natural fortress for the Navajo’s…”

  “Um,” she replied with excited wit, “sounds golden.., but perilous.”

  “More than that,” he shook his head with a grin. “Anyway, the Navajo’s had this sacred well.”

  “Nava.., who?” she kissed his lips again softly and turned his head in her direction, unbuttoning her blouse at the same time.

  “Hey,” he replied, stirred by her reaction and the intensity of warmth that swelled within him, “why don’t you say something to me again in French.”

  “Does it matter what?” she teased.

  “Nope,” he replied as their eyes were drawing each other closer into the moment.

  “Grande Beede, quoi d’ autre?” (What else, big clumsy man?) she cooed with her voice and then leaned in and tugged at his bottom lip with her own, and the conversation never went further than that.

  chambers, dark and musky