The bare lands around Red Hill were cultivated by their neighbors with cotton, wheat, and alfalfa, so the hill bore the only trees for miles around. Like his ancestors, Many Moons had kept only a garden and a few small fields cleared, enough to grow a little food to live on.
Many Moons had given Mea five acres for a wedding present in 1946, and later he and John had built her and his new son a house before John left for Korea. Duane, her new husband, had since expanded the home, which was situated three-quarters of a mile away at the northern base of the hill. Many Moons had lived in the house with them for the past year because of his age. He couldn’t get around with his arthritis and couldn’t cook for himself in the shack. Mea or Ty drove him every day to the shack his father had built. The shack wasn’t much, but it was on his hill and was the home that held his memories.
Ty joined his granddad and walked him to the log bench. They sat down with Rowdy at their feet and looked to the west, where the sinking sun painted the horizon in brilliant orange and red.
Ty put his arm around the old man’s shoulder. Many Moons’s frailness made Ty want to cry. Just a year ago he had weighed thirty pounds more and was as spry as a fifty-year-old. He had built barns and sheds for neighbors and had taught Ty all his skills as a master carpenter. But in just the last two months, his grandfather’s eighty-four years of living had caught up to him.
Ty gave him a gentle hug and motioned toward the magnificent view. “Have the sunsets always been like this?”
Many Moons nodded. “It depends on who ya share ’em with. Your grandma and me saw the most wonderful sunsets the sun ever painted. Later it was Richard and me who sat on this hill. Now, over these past years, me and you have had some fine sunsets.”
Ty kept his eyes on the horizon. “Granddad, what kind of woman was Grandma?”
Many Moons looked up at the darkening sky. “She was a white flower so purtay I couldn’t take my eyes off her. We met at Fort Reno, where I was workin’, trainin’ the Army’s horses. She brought some of her students from the Indian school where she was teachin’, and I took her ridin’. The magic happened that no one can explain. The magic was strong enough for a young white woman to give up everything for me. She was like your mom, one hell’va woman.”
Ty looked at his grandfather with questioning eyes. “But you gave up a lot, too?”
Many Moons smiled, reflecting. “Yep. The tribe and my folks didn’t understand, and there was some problems, but the magic was too strong to separate us.”
“Why didn’t you remarry like Mom? Grandma has been gone twenty years.”
The old man patted Ty’s leg affectionately and looked back at the sunset. “Because the magic is still in me. She still rides with me in my heart and my dreams.”
Ty knew his grandmother only by her grave and the single picture that sat on a shelf in his mother’s living room. The woman was small and plain but had a smile that always made him feel sad for not having known her. She stood by a young man wearing an Army uniform who looked like Ty himself. The young man was her son, Richard.
Ty’s thoughts turned to his father. From his dad he had only a picture and a few Army papers. John Nance had been a member of a platoon that was protecting a pass. The Chinese had attacked their position in human waves and had been beaten back three times. Sergeant Nance took command of the few survivors who had run out of ammunition and had led his men in a desperate bayonet charge when the weakened Chinese unit had tried a final assault. The charge had been successful, but John Nance had died in the attempt, never knowing a relief force had arrived and saved the rest of his men.
Ty knew his father had wanted to come home to him, just as his uncle Richard had wanted to come home to George, but they were Chosen. His grandfather had once explained, years before, that those who were taken before their time were the spirit world’s children. The Chosen remained in the hearts and minds of their loved ones just as they were in life. They would always be remembered as young and in their prime, never growing old and wrinkled. The Chosen’s spirits were the strongest of the spirit world and were the most cherished by the living.
Ty knew his dad didn’t feel the cold of Korea or the pain of his wounds. He was happy on the hill he had loved.
Ty looked at his grandfather, knowing the old man wouldn’t come home tonight. He would want to stay in the old shack. Many Moons was drawing strength from his hill and needed to be with his wife and son again in his dreams.
“I’ll walk you back to the shack and fix you somethin’ to eat,” he said. “I’ll explain to Mom why you’re stayin’.”
Many Moons eyed his grandson. “How’d ya know I wanted ta stay?”
Ty glanced at the headstones, then at the magnificent view before him. He rose slowly and held out his hand for his grandfather. “I just knew.”
Ty put his arm around his grandfather. Many Moons felt his eyes moisten. Ty was the last of his blood, his last connection with youth. Many Moons could see the boy growing and coming to understand the world. His only regret was that he knew his own time was short and there were still so many things he wanted to say and teach to his grandson.
Ty opened the door of the shack and set the rocking chair down beside the small bed. He lit the kerosene lamp as his grandfather sat down and reached under the bed for something. Ty opened the valve of the butane tank and lit the stove. “You sure this spaghetti will be enough?”
“Plenty,” his grandfather said, then held up the yellowed cigar box he’d retrieved from under the bed. “By the way, I thought you might like to have this, Coon Dog.”
Ty sat on the bed and, almost shyly, took the box from his grandfather’s hands. He stared at it for several seconds. He knew what it was—a treasure chest of his grandfather’s memories. Many Moons had often talked about how this little container was his only link to the past. Finally, he opened it.
Lying on top of the contents was a picture like the one his mother had of his grandmother and Richard. Beneath it was a picture Ty had never seen before. It was a close-up photo of Richard in his uniform. The resemblance to himself was uncanny. The young soldier was smiling proudly. On his shirt was a parachute badge. Beneath the picture were some medals, patches, three opened letters from Italy, and, on a silver chain, the silver parachute wings.
Ty felt a tingle run up his spine. He looked at the picture again, feeling closer to Richard than ever before. He glanced at the contents and thought how simple his grandfather’s treasures were, but they somehow were what he had expected. Many Moons always thought of his family and the land as the real wealth of his life.
Many Moons nodded toward the box. “Your daddy wore that parachute badge. I gave your dad Richard’s wings when he went to parachute school before going to Korea. They were a living part of my own son.”
Ty ran his fingers over the silver badge in reverence. He had seen pictures of his dad in uniform but hadn’t realized the meaning of the wings on his chest. Neither his mother nor his granddad had ever mentioned both men resting on Red Hill were paratroopers.
He now understood why his grandfather wanted to give him his treasure box. Tears trickled down Ty’s face as he closed the lid.
2
Mea Johnson set the plate of fried pork chops on the kitchen table and took her seat. Duane, her husband, looked at the two empty chairs beside her and angrily stabbed a piece of the meat with his fork. “They could at least get to dinner on time!”
Mea didn’t respond. It would be of no use. She passed a bowl of mashed potatoes across the table to Jason, who gave her a look of support.
Duane shook his head as he cut the chop. “This is it. You talk to your dad again. He’s too old to be up at the shack all day. He’s getting senile. Today some bounty hunters came by the store asking permission to hunt coyotes on the hill. They offered ten dollars a hide. But they called me again before I closed. Said George threw them off the land.” He took a bite. “He needs to be in a home where he can get some professional care.”
Duane sighed and put down his fork. “What about that son of yours? He’s turning into a bum staying around George. He needs a real job instead of mooching off our neighbors. The kid needs responsibility. He’s been around your father too long.”
Mea winced at the sting in his words. “Ty isn’t mooching, he’s working hard and making good money.”
She didn’t answer his comment about Ty being like her father because it was true … and she was secretly proud of it.
“Yeah, he’s making a few dollars,” Duane persisted, “but he’s spendin’ it on that old car George gave him. He hasn’t saved one dime for college. And you always let him do whatever he wants to do.”
Mea didn’t speak. Maybe he would drop the subject if she didn’t argue. She knew Ty could never live up to Duane’s expectations the way Jason had. It was impossible for Duane to understand that the boys were different. Jason had responded positively to her husband’s unmerciful pushing and browbeating. Ty had rebelled. He wanted no part of the sort of life Duane wanted him to live.
She looked across the table at Jason. “Gravy, honey?” As Jason took the bowl and set it down, she studied his handsome face. He resembled his father: six feet tall and muscular with fair skin and sandy blond hair. And he was everything his father had wanted him to be: smart, athletic, and a natural leader.
Mea broke her gaze from her stepson as footsteps sounded on the back porch. The screen door opened and Ty stepped into the kitchen.
“ ’Bout time,” Duane grunted.
Mea looked at Ty with concern. “Where’s Dad?”
Ty winked at Jason and walked to the sink to wash this hands. “He stayed up at the cabin. I fed him and I’ll go up later and stay with him.”
Mea nodded in understanding, but Duane shook his head. “The hell you will! You’ve been bumming around up there too much as it is. Let him stay on his hill; maybe he’ll get hungry enough to appreciate what we’ve done for him by lettin’ him stay here.”
Ty’s eyes narrowed, but the looks his mother and Jason gave him warned him not to say anything. He sat down by his mother, speaking to her softly. “He’s looking weaker, Mom. He had a run-in with some bounty hunters.”
“Yeah, and he ran them off and wouldn’t let ’em hunt,” Duane said. “That was stupid. He could have made some money and helped pay his keep.”
Ty clenched his teeth and gave his stepfather a cutting glare. “He built this house and it’s on his land!” Ty said. “Granddad has more than paid you for his keep.”
Duane’s face reddened at Ty’s defiance. “This house is mine! If you don’t like it, get out! See if you make it on what George has taught you. Maybe you’ll learn that doing nothing doesn’t pay the bills.”
“Stop it, both of you!” Mea tossed down her napkin. “The dinner table is not the place to argue, and I won’t have it. Ty, you eat some dinner, and Duane, you let him eat in peace and don’t say another word about Dad. He’s sick, and you know it.”
Ty and Duane stared at each other like boxers before a bout. Only when a car horn honked outside did they finally break their glares.
Jason smiled uncomfortably and scooted back his chair. “It’s Becky.”
Ty noticed his mother’s lips tighten and patted her leg under the table in consolation. She didn’t like Jason’s girlfriend, who always seemed too poised and expressive, as if she were on stage. Her father owned all the granaries in Meyers and spoiled his only daughter by giving her everything she wanted. Mea thought everything about her was insincere. She didn’t believe Rebecca Sodder was capable of loving anyone—except herself.
When Becky opened the screen door and filled the kitchen with her effervescent smile, Mea forced one in return. As always, the girl looked as if she had stepped out of the pages of a teen magazine. “Sit down, Becky, and join us. I’ll set a plate.”
Becky’s green eyes widened and she spoke in a rush. “Thanks, Mea, but I really can’t. Jason and I are running late. We’re going to see The Sound of Music.”
Duane, who always seemed completely taken with the girl, smiled indulgently. “We understand. Y’all have a good time.”
Becky glanced at Ty. “Everybody in town is talking about you making the all-state football team this year. They say we’ll win district easy.”
Feeling uncomfortable, Ty lifted a fork full of potatoes to his mouth and took a bite before nodding.
“Yeah, Ty,” Jason said, patting Ty’s back, “the whole town is excited. I talked to Coach Lambert, and he says you’ll be an all-stater for sure.”
Becky, already bored with the subject, took Jason’s arm and tugged him toward the door. “Come on, good-lookin’, we have to go. ’Bye everybody!”
Ty couldn’t help but notice his mother’s look of relief.
Twenty minutes later, Duane sat in the living room watching “Kraft Theatre” as Mea and Ty cleaned up the kitchen. Mea spoke softly as she washed the dishes. “Don’t mind Duane. He gets angry because he only wants the best for you. He doesn’t think you care about your future.”
Ty dried a plate and put it on the counter. “I don’t, Mom. I don’t know what I want yet, but I know I don’t want Duane pushing me and talkin’ bad about Granddad.”
Mea dried her hands on her apron. “Duane has always been embarrassed by Dad. Maybe because Dad’s Indian or because he never conformed to what Duane thought a father-in-law should be, but it’s always been there. You being with Dad so much bothers him.”
“Are you telling me not to spend so much time with Granddad?”
Mea took her son’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “No, you need each other. I just want you to understand.”
Ty grinned. “I guess I could get me a girlfriend like Becky who was rich and would take me to movies.”
Mea glared at him then broke into a smile. “If you do, I’ll wring your neck. What in the world does Jason see in her?”
“He sees a future.”
Mea laughed and hit Ty’s chest with the dishrag. “Get some of those bones for Rowdy and check on Daddy. Duane is right—you are impossible.”
Many Moons was awakened by a loud noise and Rowdy’s barking. He bolted upright in his bed and stiffened at what he saw. In trying to get to the half-eaten spaghetti on the small table, Rowdy had knocked the plate and kerosene lamp to the floor. The glass lamp now lay in front of the door, leaking kerosene over the wooden planks, while the blue flame of the lamp wick still flickered.
Holding his breath, Many Moons got up to douse the wick before the kerosene ignited, but he had taken only a step when the cabin suddenly lit up in a red-orange burst of light and heat. The flames spread along the floor, engulfing old newspapers stacked by the door and igniting the window curtains. Many Moons quickly looked around. He needed something with which to smother the fire. He grabbed the blankets off the bed, but the blaze had already spread up the wall. The thick smoke and heat quickly became too much for him as he tried desperately to beat out the flames. It was no use. He gave up and hurried to the back window, where he smashed the pane with a cooking pot. He began to crawl but stopped. Turning around, he went back for his yelping dog and the treasure box that Ty had left on the table.
As Ty rode toward the hill, he leaned back in the saddle looking at the twinkling stars far above. The warm summer nights always made him feel good and brought back memories. It was on nights like this that Many Moons had taken him and Jason to gig frogs on Crystal Pond and run trout lines. There were also the nights they had gone coon hunting, and his grandfather had taught them how to read the stars. Making ice cream on the front porch and catching june bugs were for nights such as this.
He ducked a branch and leaned forward in the saddle as Sa Tonkee climbed a rise that overlooked the road just fifty yards from the shack. It was only then tha
t he saw flames licking skyward from the burning shack. His body tightened and he reigned Sa Tonkee’s head toward the fire, kicking the gelding’s flanks. The horse bolted onto the dirt road as Ty screamed, “Granddaaaaad!”
Ty’s heart raced as Sa Tonkee galloped toward the flames. Approaching the gate, he swung off the saddle and jumped, clearing the fence. He landed on his feet, tumbled over, jumped up, and ran straight for the steps. Slowing only to lower his head and shoulders, he ran into the crackling flames and threw himself at the burning door. He fell into the smoke-filled cabin and rolled off the smoldering, shattered door. His eyes stung as if pins were sticking them as he raised up to look for his grandfather. He fell back to the floor gagging, feeling as if his whole body were on fire. His singed hair stank like burning feathers, and his exposed skin felt as if he were in scalding water. Rowdy was yelping somewhere against the far wall as Ty fought the pain and screamed out in desperation, “GRANDDAD!”
He crawled away from the flames licking at his feet toward the bed and felt the empty mattress before dropping to the floor. “Granddad?”
As he crawled through the smoke toward the back window, he felt his grandfather’s leg. Many Moons was balled up on the floor, clutching the old cigar box to his chest. Jumping to his feet, Ty grabbed the old man’s shoulders to drag him toward the window, but the smoke overcame him. He fell to the floor, gasping and choking. Feeling as if his chest were about to explode, he opened his mouth, sucking in the trapped air along the floor. Taking one more breath, he grabbed Many Moons under his neck and legs and picked him up. He felt along the wall until he found the window and spun around. Holding his grandfather in a death grip, he flung himself backward through the window. A piece of jagged glass slashed Ty’s cheek open from ear to chin as he smashed through the frame and fell six feet onto his back.
the Hill (1995) Page 2