Warm May air swirled into the cab as the miles passed. Dale and the children counted the signs for the Mountain Folk Festival. Justy wanted to know how to compose her feelings, but Dale’s face was hard to read. Justy closed her eyes and sensed that Dale was balled up tight, waiting to see what the day would bring. Jake and Kyle were already at the festival, helping to set up for the Bull of the Woods contest. They’d be competing today, a father-and-son team trying to bring back the old days.
Dale took the first off-ramp and drove past Hilltop and then entered the shade of the redwoods. Goose bumps covered Justy’s arms. She leaned forward, trying to see the treetops. If she concentrated, she could still feel the earth shaking from when Mark’s old growth had hit the ground two weeks before.
The truck burst into sunlight as they left the Drive-Thru Tree Park behind and continued on through the Sequoia Valley. The single road leading through town was filled with cars and trucks—the festival brought in more people than the rest of the year total. A quarter mile off to her left, Justy saw the letters painted on top of the school gym, “Sequoia Valley Panthers.” A banner stretched over the main road: “6th Annual Mountain Folk Festival.” Inside the O’s, someone had painted mountains and trees. As Dale drove under the banner, Justy held her breath for good luck and knew she wasn’t supposed to.
Dale parked behind a new truck that said “Toyota” across the tailgate. When she cut the engine, amplified guitar and banjo music echoed from the festival grounds. She pulled a brush from her purse and smoothed her hair. She turned the brush on Justy and then Micah, but he pressed up against Lacee, out of Dale’s reach.
“Do I have to stay with you?” Lacee asked. She had her hand on the door, ready to be free and fourteen. Dale looked at the people walking to the grounds, some with beer in their hands. “Not even eleven o’clock,” Dale said. She sighed and turned to Lacee. “Just check in with me every once in a while.”
Lacee nodded and then was gone, Micah quick to follow.
“Let’s go, Justy.” Dale patted her arm in a way that told Justy she was glad for the company. They walked toward a hazy cloud of dust, the earth dry and powdery with the movement of feet. It reminded Justy of the logging roads ground to dust by the loaded trucks. They walked past an old blue Ford with a brand-new yellow bumper sticker: “This Family Supported by Timber Dollars.” It wasn’t a truck she recognized; it could have been from any number of neighboring towns. They continued on and Justy recognized Mamie’s VW van.
The dirt road that led to Carver’s Hole was the dividing line for the festival. Vendor booths and children’s activities filled the left-hand side. Crystals, earrings, colorful windsocks, coin tosses, water dunk, pony rides. On the right side stood the wooden stage where a three-man band played for no one and everyone. This side also had the food booths, near the highway, and the beer booth. Toward the back of the right side, the competition area waited, within plain view of the stage.
Dale paused, and Justy waited for her to decide which way to go. People walked past them in small herds, a few nodding hello, but it seemed to Justy that most folks widened their way around Dale, maybe afraid she carried a Watchtower or two in her purse. Dale scanned the crowd and Justy scanned Dale, both looking for signs of Jake or Kyle. Dale spotted an empty place on a log and headed for it. Thirty or so people were already gathered, waiting for the ax-throwing contest. Jake walked through the crowd and approached a small knot of men from the Sloan family. He held a beer and said something that made them all laugh.
Pale wood chips covered the area, and the smell of fresh-cut wood collected in Justy’s nose. The music stopped and people turned to face the stage. Mark Sloan fumbled with the microphone, seeming more afraid of it than he’d been of the huge redwood tree. He announced the beginning of the Bull of the Woods competition, then asked everyone to please get off their duffs for the pledge of allegiance. People not already standing rose, and conversations stopped. Faces turned toward the flag at the left of the stage. Dale and Justy stood slowly. Mark led the pledge while Justy looked around for Ochre or Sunshine. Her hand stayed at her side. The people near her and Dale sneaked glances at them. Justy turned her gaze forward, not meeting anyone’s eye. She knew Jake’s hand lay on his chest, and that he spoke loudly and firmly, as if trying to make up for his pledgeless family.
Dale and Jake confused Justy anew, and she knew they confused each other. Dale insisted that they live by the law but without showing any outright loyalty to the country. Jake wanted to live by his own rules but voiced his allegiance to the same system of government he claimed held him down. Their different worlds swirled in Justy and made her want to gasp for air.
The crowd finished and Justy was sure she heard them say, “And Justine for all.” She looked to see if anyone else had heard the same or if people were coming at her, but faces remained turned toward the stage. Mark began announcing the participants for the woodsmen’s title. When he read Jake’s and Kyle’s names, he paused and said, “You got to watch out for those family teams. I should know.”
The crowd laughed and Jake raised his beer to Mark in a salute. Mark continued on with the list and thanked one and all for coming out to show their support for timber dollars and the Sequoia volunteer fire department. Then he cleared his throat, swallowed and added, “I’d like to take a moment to mourn the loss of our friend C.C. Davis.”
People nodded their heads and murmured. Mark continued, saying there was a collection box at the beer booth for C.C.’s wife and two kids, and if anyone could help out, his family would sure appreciate it.
After Mark stepped down from the stage, Dale and Justy sat down at the ax-throwing contest, and the first contestant stepped forward and took three measured swings before throwing. He hit high on the wooden mark with a solid thunk and kicked sawdust as Martin Fry, Jordan’s father, moved forward. He winked at Connie sitting a few people down from Dale and Justy, then he squinted down the blade. In a fluid motion of tool and arm, he flung the ax.
It bounced off the target and fell to the ground. The crowd groaned and someone yelled, “Nice work, Paul Bunyan.” Connie stood, spilling her beer, and yelled, “Shut up.”
Jake stepped up and adjusted his glasses. He eyed the target, took one practice swing and threw. The ax whizzed and hit the bull’s-eye dead on, puncturing the can of Coors shoved into the middle of the target. The beer sprayed out with a hiss, easing off into a drizzle. A few people clapped and a woman whistled. Justy thought about Jake’s hands—how they brought both beauty and violence into the world.
“Not bad for an Injun,” a voice called. Shelby Gaines stood behind the seated people, cigarette dangling from his lips. The little dog wagged its tail at his ankle. Jake gave Gaines a quick look. Gil Walker stood up on wobbly legs and turned to face Gaines.
“You shut your horse-loving trap,” Gil called. Gaines waved a hand as if he were a fly. Sam Sloan walked to Gil and patted him on the shoulder before stepping up to take his turn. Frank Sloan appeared and replaced the beer can. Sam nailed the can also, and his father yelled approval from the back of the crowd. Kyle was next, and after Frank replaced the beer can, Kyle hit the target dead center, beer spraying to the ground a third time.
Kyle came to sit down in the open spot on the other side of Justy. He patted her bare knee and pulled on a string from her jean cutoffs. He looked over her head to Dale. “How’s my favorite daughter-in-law today?”
She smiled at him. “Not too bad.”
Kyle wrapped an arm around Justy’s shoulders and squeezed. She wanted to know how this warmth came pouring out of him toward her and Lacee and Micah and Dale when what filled the space between him and Jake was anger. Kyle reached down to the wood chips and picked one up.
“This here is incense cedar. Smell it?” He held his hand in front of Justy. Her nose filled with the sweet scent. Kyle stood, dropping the chip. “I’m going to find me a beer. Either of you want anyt
hing?”
Dale and Justy shook their heads and he moved off through the crowd.
“Look at that,” Dale said, nodding at the next contestant. A young man with a full beard, long hair, ripped jeans and no shirt swung an ax, getting ready for his turn. A tattoo of a peace sign covered most of his back. Seeing him made Justy realize how clean-cut all the other loggers were. The man seemed spaced out, but when his turn came, he hit the target squarely in the center.
An older man Justy didn’t recognize walked up to Shelby Gaines, standing a few feet behind Justy and Dale. The man asked Gaines how his mare was, and Gaines chuckled and said, “Nigger? That girl is just fine. Did have a stomach spell a while back, but the vet said it was some kind of worms. Got them out of her and she’s as good as ever.”
The two men kept talking and Justy wondered about the name of Gaines’s horse. She’d heard that word in the bar and knew from the way it came out of the men’s mouths that it meant something bad.
***
Dale and Justy watched the rest of the events in the beating sun. Lacee and Micah joined them periodically but always disappeared quickly into the crowd after a few minutes. For the handsaw contest, Juan stepped forward with a wedge and a can of oil as Jake and Kyle began pulling and pushing the saw through the wood. Juan slipped the wedge in the groove and poured oil on the saw. Beads of sweat formed on Kyle’s and Jake’s foreheads as they tried to keep the blade flat, knowing its balanced edge cut better. The blade bit into the redwood log, metal teeth sliding back and forth. The layers of red faded into one another.
The slab fell off and people cheered. Jake and Kyle walked to Dale and Justy, breathing heavy but with smiles on their shiny faces. Someone handed Jake another beer. Both men’s white T-shirts were covered in a fine layer of pale sawdust. Behind his glasses, Jake’s black eyelashes were also powdered. Mark announced their time: four minutes and thirty-three seconds.
“That wasn’t half bad,” Kyle said. He stuck out his hand, but Jake gulped down the beer. Kyle continued holding out his hand until Jake finally yielded. They shook for a long minute, fingers squeezing together. Dale stood, and the men stepped back from each other.
“There he is again,” she said. Jake and Kyle turned to see the tattooed man paired with another longhair. They settled into position and Harris was with them, climbing up on the log to place the wedges and oil their efforts.
“What’s Harris doing?” Jake grumbled. Kyle shrugged, and Dale looked around for Mamie.
“He ain’t done an honest day of work in years,” Jake said, and started to walk away. The longhaired men began and they were good, moving smoothly through the log. Harris looked funny to Justy, straddling the log, his bad foot hanging awkwardly. Jake stopped and watched the fluid motion of the men. They beat Jake and Kyle’s time by almost a full minute, and Justy felt Jake will his hands to be calm. Dale and Kyle moved over to where Jake stood.
“I should get the kids home,” she said.
Jake drank from his beer. “Okay.” He waved at Gil Walker rolling slowly past.
“Should I expect you two for dinner?” Dale tried to catch Jake’s eyes, but he was staring at the hippie men. Kyle glanced at Jake and then back at Dale. He nodded.
“I just don’t know,” Jake said. Dale began to walk away. Justy took a step, stopped and looked at Jake.
“Dale,” Jake called. She turned.
“Want to walk around for a bit? See the booths?” Jake took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. She smiled in the corner of her mouth and walked back to his side. He handed Justy the beer and hooked his arm around Dale’s shoulders. Kyle fell in beside Justy, and the four of them walked from the contest area, crossed the dirt road that led to the swimming hole and looked at the vendor booths. While they walked, Justy turned the can upside down, letting the beer sputter onto the dirt.
The first booth held an array of stained glass and crystals hanging from strings. The crystals caught the afternoon light and sent prismed rainbows into the air. A man with pale skin, long brown hair and an immense beard sat in a folding chair, a pink-and-white tie-dyed shirt covering his skinny torso. He smiled, but they didn’t stop. The path became crowded and they had to collapse into single file, Jake leading the way as they walked past jewelry, windsocks and wicker furniture. At one booth, Justy saw Ochre, Nolan and Sunshine sitting cross-legged on pillows in the back corner. On the walls and on two easels were paintings of flowers—huge, colorful flowers that seemed alive, maybe even dancing in a slight breeze. Justy stared at the painting on the nearest easel. It was an Indian paintbrush, full of reds bleeding into oranges at the base of each flower. Justy wanted to reach out, see if it felt as fuzzy and soft as it looked, nothing like the empty beer can in her hand.
“Hey,” Ochre said, and stood.
“Hey,” Sunshine said, her voice gentle and inviting. Her many-colored skirt whirled around as she walked to Justy and knelt. Ochre followed, his bare chest tanned deep brown. His hair was in its usual braid, and Justy thought about what it would feel like to savor the feel of her own hair on her skin. Sunshine wore a green scarf on her head.
Under their feet lay a thick red carpet with white fringes and yellowish flowers. Baskets of different sizes held various dried plants, and Justy remembered the sign at the post office with Sunshine’s name and the mention of herbs. Bolts of cloth hung from the makeshift ceiling of the booth. Justy felt like she’d entered a new world—one full of color.
“How are you, Justy?” Nolan asked from his pillow. He was barefoot and held on to his trimmed beard with his left hand. A rich, heady smell came from a tiny smoking stick tucked into the pole nearest Nolan. Sunshine reached toward the paintbrush painting and said, “You like this one?”
Justy nodded.
“Nolan paints them,” Ochre said. “He uses watercolors.” He smiled and Justy felt soothed. She loved the idea that water and color could create something so beautiful.
“Ochre paints with me sometimes,” Nolan said.
“Justy.”
Dale walked up and placed a hand on Justy’s shoulders, pulling her close. She wouldn’t look at the Ravens.
“Mrs. Colby,” Sunshine said, holding out her hand. Dale positioned Justy in between herself and Sunshine.
“Our son is a friend of your daughter,” Nolan said. Ochre smiled at Dale.
“Oh,” Dale said. It pained Justy to think of how Dale saw Ochre, with his long braided hair and his patch-covered shorts.
“It must be hard to be friends with someone who doesn’t say a word,” Dale said. Justy looked away from Ochre, almost embarrassed by the tone of Dale’s voice and the lack of understanding in it.
“I don’t mind,” Ochre said, words quiet. He tried to catch Justy’s eye. Nolan came over to Dale and Justy and started talking about the painting. Justy could see he was trying to pull Dale in. But she stiffened and Nolan paused.
“We don’t have money for things like this,” Dale said. It was the same way she’d told Lacee there was nothing for frills, magazines included.
“Your daughter seemed very interested in the painting, and I just wanted to tell her how it was done.”
“Well, thank you, but we have to be moving on,” Dale said, and started to pull at Justy. Kyle walked up and looked at the painting Justy was so drawn to. He whistled and squatted by her side. Dale stopped trying to force Justy away and stepped back, watching. Justy knew it was because Kyle was male; the Witnesses taught that women needed to be in submission to the men. He reached out a finger and followed a line of color through the painting. Justy saw the sawdust in his hair, on his eyelashes, even in his wrinkles. She also saw that he really did like the painting.
“Thank you,” Nolan said, and held out his hand for Kyle, who stood and shook hands with all three Ravens. Sunshine started telling him about her herbs when he asked what the weeds in the baskets were all about. Ochre turn
ed and smiled at Justy at the same time Dale stepped up and steered her away. After they passed a couple of booths, Dale stopped.
“Justy. I don’t like the looks of those people. You need to stay away from them. They’re probably doing pot.” Dale turned Justy around and kept her moving until they caught up with Jake. He stood in the shade of a booth, talking to Ms. Long and a male high school teacher. The teachers sat behind a long folding table. A banner hung from the table: “Save Red Mountain.” Ms. Long waved at Justy and seemed less timid with Jake. She and Jake were talking about how the petition was faring. Justy could see Ms. Long had gained some signatures and gotten more organized. She had T-shirts for sale, and the banner looked to Justy like Nolan had painted it. The man with Ms. Long watched her talk as if in a daze until Jake said that the land was private property and he didn’t see how a few names could stop what somebody wanted to do on his own land. Then the man sat up straight, his short red hair standing away from his scalp as if it wanted to escape.
“Man, it doesn’t matter if it’s private property, since what they want to do will affect the entire ecosystem of this area.”
“If we get enough signatures,” Ms. Long said, “we can stop them.”
“If I sign it, what am I asking to be done?” Jake took a step forward, images of the land roaming through his head. Dale gripped Justy’s shoulders tighter, but Justy didn’t think Dale was aware of it.
By Way of Water Page 16