Raven's Peak: Cold Hard Bitch

by Cole Savage

  “Momma put a lid on it,” Nicki said; the sun history, a bright light mounted on the side of the barn lighting them in a pool of light.

  “Sum-bitch started it.”

  “Both of you behave…This is your fault, Homer” Nicki said pointing a finger at him. “I told you going out with Momma was a dangerous endeavor— a device of the Devil.”

  “Yeah, you gave me fair warning, but you didn’t tell me that her woman parts carried an odor similar to a horse blanket that had soured in a tack room—a smell so sour it’d scare a corpse out of its grave.”

  “I told you she was older than she looked, Homer— you were fairly warned.”

  Karen looked at Homer. “Keep it up, pig bait. Try as you may you’ll never be the man your Momma was. Last time I saw a no-gooder ugly as you, I had to pay to get in.” Karen, with her hands on her hips, spat in front of Homer and said, You’re no better than a nigger with face paint and a spear in his hand.” Nicki sighed, she looked down and covered her eyes.

  “Nicki, get that heifer out of my face before I have a mind to put her out to pasture with my cut-down twelve.”

  “I’ve been called better by worse people, short stuff.” Karen laughed, “that’s what you get for marryin’ Greta, a woman who was the town pump for the Hole in the Wall Gang.”

  “Both of you stop it,” Nicki said looking at Karen.

  “How many spoonsful of Bitch did you take this morning, Karen?”

  “I’m not sayin’ I hate you, you sour old puss, but the only thing keepin’ me alive these days is dreamin’ about you barefoot in the desert, bein’ attacked by a Honey Badger who ain’t had a bite to eat in days.”

  “Jesus, Momma, just shut up. We get it, your date with Homer was a bust.”

  “A bust, that sum-bi-

  “Enough,” Nicki said putting her hand on Karen’s lip, and Homer, far from Nicki’s vision, was running the tip of his tongue along his lower lip, where only Karen could see him. Karen gave him the finger.

  “Homer we’re looking for Tyler and Cole. Have you seen them?”

  “Can’t say’s I have, Nicki.”

  Then, a truck coming up the drive caught their attention.

  “That’s Cooper, you might want to ask him. He’s just comin’ back from Harman”, said Homer, all three looking at the approaching truck, where against the powder dark sky, the black and orange butterflies danced in the last shelves of light, fair creatures Nicki might be witnessing for the last time. The car hesitated a hundred feet from the house, and Homer waved him over. Cooper parked by the house and watched as Nicki, Karen, and Homer approached.

  “Did you get the load up there on time,” said Homer, watching Cooper step out of the truck, looking a little edgy, holding the door with his hand.

  “Hey, Nicki—Mrs. Griggs.”

  “Hey, Coop,” said Nicki.

  “Cooper,” said Karen, putting a fist up to Homer’s face, far from Nicki’s view.

  “Coop were looking for the boys. Did you happen to see them on your trip to Harman?”

  “Nicki, can we talk over here, by ourselves,” said Cooper pointing to the front porch.

  “If it’s okay with you, we’re all family here. Karen is privy to anything you have to say.”

  “It’s not important, Nicki, but no, I ain’t seen your boys. Last time I saw Tyler and Cole was at the truck pull in Charlottesville, last July,” said Cooper, shifting his gaze to Karen. “How’s the family, Karen?” Cooper asked, and Nicki could see that he was being evasive. Cooper broke eye contact with Nicki and cracked his knuckles. It sounded like a string of squibs going off.

  Homer bid Nicki goodbye and walked back to the barn, slouched, the way recidivist’s convicts walk. Karen looked at Cooper, “I’d tell you how my family was if I could find my grandsons, whale bait.”

  “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful, Mrs. Griggs, it’s just that my last load was a long haul and I’m plumb tired… I’m sorry that your boys are missin’.”

  Karen turned to Homer as he walked away. “I love what you done to your hair, Homer” “How’d you get it to come out of your nose like that?” Homer kept walking giving Karen the bird. Preceded by a half second of cool appraisal, Cooper gave Nicki a friendly smile and said, “Nicki, I swear, I ain’t seen the boys.”

  “It’s okay, Coop, I heard you the first time.” Nicki eyed Cooper suspiciously and could see the heat spreading across his cheeks, his eyes dancing around, far from her gaze. She also noticed something else moving behind his face, some deeper pain or preoccupation. A look that said he wanted them to leave him in peace.

  “Is everything okay, Coop,” said Nicki. Cooper, pale and slender, stared at Nicki, fear showing unbribed and plain on his face. Standing with her arms folded under her bosom, she listened. “Yeah, yeah, Nicki, why wouldn’t it be?” His words alarmed Nicki and deepened the groove between them, the air thick with silence.

  “So where exactly in Harman did you go, Coop?” A blush filled the pale skin between his freckles and spread to the hollow of his throat. “I didn’t just go to Harman, Nicki. I got there early so I could fish at Horse Camp Fork.”

  This scene was a textbook example of a situation where the cure was worse than the disease. On balance, most of the time, in the ordinary course of life, it was probably best to share what was on your mind, tell the people you cared for the truth, ask the people you harmed to forgive you and to confront those that hurt you with the truth about the damage they were doing, and when it came to things that needed to be said, speech was always preferable to silence, but it was of no use at all in the presence of the unspeakable reality of this scenario.

  They all turned toward the barn and watched a Pit-bull bitch come bounding and chesty across the meadow to give Karen a piece of her mind.

  “Get back, Red. Go to Pa,” Cooper said to the red tinged Pit-bull. The dog stopped twenty feet from Karen, went to his buttocks and growled at her. Cooper ran over and grabbed her by the collar.

  “You’re gonna have to do better than that, Homer. Ain’t no dog ever scared me away, except maybe that gutter slag, Grace” Karen yelled in the direction of Homer.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Griggs. I think Pa’s just havin’ a little fun… Get, boy. Back to Pa.” The three of them watched Red gallop past some birches congregating in the light fog, wrapped in their bark with unreadable cryptic inscriptions, back to the barn, as the crickets and frogs all about the in the field sang in endless oscillation.

  “Coop, as I came into adulthood, the ascendant recovery movement was at work normalizing the idea that redemption lay in the sharing of experience and feeling, and that in denial there was something like damnation.”

  “I’m sorry, Nicki, I ain’t got a clue what you just said. “Cooper said glancing at the ground, a twitch in his eyes.

  “What I’m saying, Coop, is that secrets, at some point, become inconsequential, but the people that keep them, don’t.”

  The air itself seemed to sweat in the darkness, the pores of every living thing opening wide, sap bleeding from the pines, the bushy arrowheads of the grass stalks bursting to seed, the whole warm earth, and Cooper, struggling to breathe in the darkness. Cooper nodded as though a profound truth had been told him, and he got queasy, like a hot-coal burning its way through his stomach. Cooper seemed grateful for twilight, anxious for Nicki to leave. He looked to the sky and watched a star pop loose from a constellation, then went rolling down the sky.

  “What gives you the idea that I’m keepin’ a secret from you, Nicki?” A bitterness of defeat in his voice, his eyes askance, shiny with fear, his doughy hands curling and uncurling.

  “Nothing, Coop, I’ve just never seen you act so nervous when I was around.”

  “I guess you forgot about ninth grade when I asked you to Homecoming. I was pretty nervous that night.”

  “No, I remember. You didn’t act any different than every guy that asked me out back then”

  “Nicki, I really gotta go… Li
sten, I’ll call you tonight if anything comes up. If you want, I can help you look for the boys’ tomorrow.”

  “It’s okay, Coop, I’ve got Kyle and the sheriff looking around Sand Flats and Eagle Ridge. Kyle thinks the boys are just camping somewhere.”

  CHAPTER 23

  T.D woke them at dawn, still in their tighty whites, their eyes filmed with sleep, their long hair like a witch’s head, and they made the bed the way T.D had showed them. Coming down the ladder, the thunder clasp outside startled them, and the rain started coming down in sheets. T.D was in the kitchen with rain ponchos in his hands.

  “Put your britches and shoes on. Grab your jackets from your packs, put ’em on and put these ponchos over your jackets. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Tyler.

  “Are we going somewhere, mister?” Cole asked, his eyes quivering, standing next to Tyler by the sofa, wiping his swollen eyes. T.D was gathering fishing equipment from the pantry. He stopped for a moment and looked at the boys, annoyed by the question. “What did I tell you about questions?”

  “Not to ask them, sir.”

  “But if you gotta know. We're headed to the stream to catch supper.”

  “Mister, it’s raining and lightning out there.”

  “Well, shit, boy— I hadn’t noticed. We’ll just slip back in our warm beds and rest a spell— I’m sure the fairy will bring us supper tonight cause it’s rainin’… I don’t suppose your mama ever let you boys go out in the rain?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Well, let me tell you somethin’. There ain’t no nannies or fairies here. If we want to eat, we gotta catch it out there in the rain or snow, cause there ain’t no grocery stores around these parts. Even if there were, I ain’t got the money, so unless you boys got a pocket full of nickels—yeah— we're goin out in the rain and were gonna get wet.”

  In the downpour, the boys put the fishing poles, creel, and cooler, in the back of the truck, then stepped into the back seat and waited for T.D.

  “Ty, I’m scared. You think he killed those boys?” Cole asked, his face ashen and gaunt.

  “Cole, I’m sorry I made you run away, but we need to do what he tells us. Just say yes sir and no sir. Maybe he won’t hurt us. I’ll look for a chance to run away.”

  “No, Ty. If we run, he’ll catch us and kill us. I’m not running away. He looks really mad, and those boys probably tried to run. Besides, we don’t even know where we are.”

  “Cole, sit, here he comes.” Tyler said watching T.D approach.

  T.D mounted the truck wearing a black rain slicker, went over a checklist with the boys and drove uphill as the rain started to let down. T.D drove a few miles, following a fire trail uphill that led to a wide creek, and stopped where a rocky beach had formed by runoff that laid down a sandy wadi on the edge of a river. T.D pulled ten feet from the lapping shore and parked— the car filled with the smell of sweat and fear. Outside the glass, furious rain swirled as the downpour resumed— high winds buffeting the side of the truck, rocking it on its springs.

  T.D thought these mountains were paradise, and wondered if the writers of the Bible had been describing this very place when they wrote about the Garden of Eden— where the sun was meant to shine and the rain to fall upon the wicked and righteous. The stream was shallow, coppery green in the early sunlight, a long riffle undulating through grey-white boulders of various sizes, rising like peaks from the river, resting in the deepest part of the current.

  The boys waited in the back seat of the blue and white, four door Ford, for instructions. T.D, unfazed by the deluge, stepped out of the truck, into the monsoon, motioning for the boys to get out. Tyler and Cole stepped out. Tyler grabbed the tackle box, Cole helped with the poles, while T.D put on chest waders held up with suspenders, a fishing vest, and a short-brimmed Stetson hat. The three of them walked through the storm, the soaked ground trembling whitely every time a lightning strike printed itself against the clouds or the mountains, where peaks rose like sentinels. They split up while T.D searched for a spot. T.D walked down a gravely path between two boulders that were round and cold, and reached the edge of the river. Getting pelted by sheets of rain, his shadow moving upstream against the current, the gaseous smell of autumn in the woods enticing him into its embrace. The coolness of the shade, not so much a prelude to winter, but a respite from the evil that men do to each other. He called the boys over; the towering clouds followed them, keeping the sun at bay.

  On the edge of the river, low white caps roiled in. The boys ran up shivering. Kyle explained the difference between fly-fishing rods, standard casting rods; hooks, sinkers, and bobbers. He showed them worms, artificial lures, demonstrated how to bait hooks, explained the difference between live bait and lures. Cole shivered from the icy rain, his wrist locked in front of his poncho, the hood over his head, watching T. D, who was cloaked in a rain poncho, undaunted by the downpour. He showed them how to cast fly-fishing rods and regular casting rods; his head exposed to the elements.

  After a few hours, the sun played peek-a-boo between the scattered showers, a welcome respite for the boys, who looked to the sun for its ephemeral warm rays. Cole stopped shivering, but his stomach ached, hungry and worried about their destiny.

  They spent the morning casting in the gloomy water, the river purling around their denim, and at times, T.D seemed frustrated by their lack of motor skills, but remained resolved to teach them.

  “Boys, watch and listen. With the rod in your hand, hook the line with your finger and pinch it against the rod handle.” T.D put the rod in Tyler’s hand and demonstrated the proper technique.

  “Open the bail on the reel and face it in the direction you want to cast. With the lure a few inches below the tip, lift it sharply like this until the tip is behind your head.”

  Standing behind Cole, T.D practiced casting with him.

  “Snap the rod forward and release the line when the sinker starts to go forward.”

  All morning and afternoon they practiced casting, and after a while they seemed to be getting proficient. When T.D felt comfortable with their skills, he went to the middle of the creek to cast his fly rod and slowly brought in largemouth, Stonewaller, and Salamander. The boys watched him reel them in like a cashier ringing up groceries.

  Late in the afternoon they took a break, and T.D. took a few minutes to feed them jerky, pine nuts and swigs of water from five-gallon jugs he brought from the cabin. T.D watched Tyler casting. “Tyler, shift your feet, square your shoulders and cast again behind that boulder where the water is calm.” Tyler let the fly drift through the break and watched the Bass come out of the depths and take the fly. T.D yelled, “Set the hook now.” Tyler yanked on the rod, and T.D yelled, “Bring him in—you can do it”

  The fish fought for life, made a jump out of the water, and T.D watched him reel in the Bass. “Nice job”, T.D said running over to help him guide the Bass in, but Tyler already had him in a net. Tyler screamed, “Cole, I got one, I got one.” Cole ran over waving his hands in the air and watched Tyler display the first fish he ever caught.

  For just a few minutes, Tyler and Cole laughed and smiled, able to put their dreadful circumstance in pause mode. T.D showed Tyler and Cole how to take the fish off the hook and T.D explained why this particular large mouth was too small to keep. “Tyler, that’s alright for your first day, but this little fella is a bit small, so take him off the hook like this and throw him back in the creek.” Cole grimaced when T.D slid the hook out of the mouth. T.D stripped lengths of tippet from a spool to build the nymph rig, then tied the knots with deft movements, and the skill of a surgeon; explaining the procedure. “Don’t forget to mend your line when it breaks like this. If you hook up again, use your reel. Don’t grab the line and don’t horse it in. That’s what your reel is for.”

  By late afternoon the storm had passed, the thunderheads had rolled away and died in a diminishing echo among the mountains, and the sun was warm on a cloudless sky, alit with spectacular
yellows and oranges as it approached the western horizon. The boys stripped to their tees, rolled their denim up to their knees and stood in the cold shallow water, fishing. T.D yelled to them as the muscular flow of the current started to grip him. “Stay in that eddy near the shore—that chute will take you down hard if you get caught in the current, and you’ll be swimming with the fishes. Tyler had an expression of a man on a mission, feeling the cold water bite his ankles. T.D knew there was a bounty of fish here, so he worked carefully downstream, taking his time casting each pool by the shoals where the boulders regulated the flow and the water ran lazy— searching under brambles of limbs and eddies across the wide river that was riffling slate-green through the shadows under the pines.

  It was getting late, the western sun awash in a deep pink, about to dissolve into the first blast of twilight, so they put the assortment of fish in the old cooler and headed back to the cabin to cook their spoils. It was the kind of night that made people want to celebrate the sunset, eat dinner under the stars and dance to music. Cole, agitated that he hadn’t caught any fish, reset his mind as the reality of their situation settled back in. The boys sat stoically on the ride back to the cabin hoping they wouldn’t do anything to upset T.D, but he didn’t say a word. They pulled in front of the cabin, and T.D barked orders with brutal directness.

  “Tyler take the catch to the cleaning table and get your knife.”

  “Cole, rinse the cooler and put wood in the fire, use a flint to rekindle the fire if the coals are snuffed.”

  T.D showed them how to clean the fish, and they cooked them over an open fire inside a slim basket that locked the fish in a cage. “Mister, do we have to keep our britches off tonight?” Tyler asked peevishly, while T.D showed them how to tell when the fish was properly cooked. “You can take the ones you were wearin’ today and hang them on the line outside. Put the other trousers you boys had in your backpack and sleep in those. But your shoes stay with me.”

  They ate fish, pine nuts, boiled peanuts, and washed it down with water until their bellies were ready to burst.