At that moment, a most frightening shout came from just below the window. The cry receded, as if it were rapidly moving away. The ladder struck the ground, and half a second later something heavier than that. The night was silent again.
“Perhaps someone is injured,” Erwin suggested.
“Go to sleep,” Helene told him. “Say your prayers and don’t forget to ask God to bless Papa. We are far away from home.”
* * *
There was no question of sleeping. To the usual morning noise of men stomping heavily about, of chickens clucking and horses blowing air, was now added the hollow ring of timber, of hammering and wheels that needed grease. Helene dressed quickly, recalling her promise to Erwin the night before. Before she could sweep her hair atop her head he was back, eyes alight with wonder, those deep, inquisitive eyes that seemed to see much more than a boy should see.
“Komm’ schnell, Mutti!” he urged her, scarcely giving her time to pause before the mirror. Holding tightly to her hand he led her quickly down the stairs, and out into the brightness of the morning. The Indian leaned against the wall, drinking a can of peaches from the tin, practicing looking Mescalero mean. Garrett slumped in a rocker, his leg propped testily on a stool.
Helene could not resist a greeting. “Are you hurt, Herr Garrett? I do hope you have not had an accident of some sort.”
“I am in excellent health, thank you,” Garrett said shortly.
“Well. I am most pleased to hear it.” The man seemed to have aged during the night. His flesh was soft as dough. Helene wondered if he would rise, swell like an ungainly pastry in the heat.
“There, Mutti, see?” said Erwin. “Look, they are coming. It is most exciting, yes!”
“Why yes, yes, I’m sure it is, Erwin,” Helene said vaguely. In truth, she had no idea what she was seeing. The strange sight appeared around the corner of the hotel. It seemed to be an agricultural device. Helene framed a question for Erwin but he was gone. “Have a care,” she called out, but knew he didn’t hear.
Two men guided the wagon toward the flats. One of the two was Will. She guessed the other was his brother. Will looked striken, a man pressed into service who clearly hoped no one would notice he was there.
As Helene watched, the first flash of morning touched the horizon, a fiercely bright explosion that scarred the earth with light and shadow. A silver lance touched the strange device; the thing seemed imbued with sudden magic. Light pierced the flat planes of muslin and spruce, and Helene imagined transparent flesh and hollow bones. A dragonfly, a golden fish in a dream.
“Oh. Oh, my,” she said aloud, deeply touched by the moment.
“Looks to me like a medicine show hit by a twister,” said Garrett.
“I think it has a certain grace,” said Helene. “The rather delicate beauty one associates with things Oriental.”
“Chink laundry,” Garrett countered. “Got in the way of a train.”
“They say strong spirits greatly dull the imagination,” Helene said coolly, and took herself to the far end of the porch.
Out on the flats, Will and his brother carefully lifted the device off the wagon onto the ground. Broad wooden runners that might have come from a horse-drawn sleigh were attached to the contraption’s undercarriage. Helene knew about sleighs. The runners seemed strangely out of place. Snow was clearly out of the question.
Suddenly, the engine in the device began to snarl. The latticed wooden structure, the wires and planes of fabric began to shake. In the rear, two enormous fans started churning plumes of sand into the air. Orville donned a long cotton duster and drew goggles over his eyes. He climbed aboard the device, perched on a bicycle seat and looked carefully left and right.
“Erwin, nein,” Helene cried out, “get back from that thing!”
Erwin, though, was too engrossed to hear. He held a rope attached to the lower muslin plane. Will held one on the other side. The engine reached a shrill and deafening pitch. Orville raised a hand. Erwin and Will released their hold.
The contraption jerked to a start, a dog released from its chain. Helene made a small sound of surprise. Somehow, the possibility of motion hadn’t occurred. The device moved faster and faster. Orville leaned hard into the wind. His hands clutched mystical controls. Muslin flapped and billowed. Suddenly, with no warning at all, the thing came abruptly off the ground.
“Holy Christ Colorado,” said Garrett.
Helene was thunderstruck. The device, held aloft by forces unseen and unimagined, soared for ten seconds or more then wobbled, straightened, and gently kissed the earth. The engine fluttered and stopped. Will and Erwin ran frantically over the flats waving their arms. Orville climbed to the ground. Will and Erwin shook his hand and clapped him firmly on the back. Then all three made their way to the hotel.
Erwin was elated. He might explode from excitement any moment. Even Will seemed pleased. Orville was curiously restrained. His goggles were pushed atop his head. His eyes were ringed with dust.
“Mutti, it was something to see, was it not!” Erwin cried.
“It certainly was,” said Helene.
“I’ve got to admit,” said Garrett, “I never saw a man ride a wagon off the ground.”
“Now I can fix that,” Orville said thoughtfully. “I know exactly what happened. This was only the first trial you understand.”
Garrett seemed confused. “You planning on doing that again?”
“Why, yes sir. Yes I am.”
Garrett pulled himself erect. “Not till after noon you’re not, Orville. That racket assaults the nerves. I doubt if it’s good for the digestion.” He turned and went inside.
“It was most entertaining,” Helene said, thinking that she ought to be polite.
“The elevator needs more weight,” said Orville, as if Helene would surely agree. “That should keep the front firmly down. And I shall tilt the sail planes forward. Too much vertical lift the way they are.”
“Yes, of course,” said Helene.
“Well, we had best get her back to the barn,” Orville said. “Lots of work to do. And thank you for your help, young man.”
Erwin flushed with pride. “Sir, I was honored to assist.”
Will and Orville walked back into the sun.
“Mutti, it is a marvel is it not!” said Erwin.
“Yes it is,” Helene agreed. “Now you stay away from that thing, do you hear? I want you to promise me that.”
Erwin looked stricken. “But Herr Orville has promised that I shall have a ride!”
“And I promise that you shall do no such thing,” Helene said firmly. “Just get that out of your head.”
Erwin turned and fled, holding back the tears that burned his eyes. Helene released a sigh, wondering how she would manage to handle this. Everyone was gone. She seemed to be all alone on the porch.
* * *
The sounds of Orville’s labor continued throughout the day. When Helene returned from her regular evening walk, a lantern still glowed within the barn. Orville disturbed her more than a little. The man had a fire in his eyes. Such a look frightened her in a man. Her husband’s eyes were steady and reassuring. When she saw the two together, Orville and her son, a vague disquieting shadow crossed her heart. Erwin had such a light as well.
“Evening, Miz Rommel,” said Garrett. The glow of his cigar came from the porch.
“I did not see you standing there,” said Helene. Her tone was clearly distant.
“I suppose you’re put out with me some.”
“With reason I should think.”
“I guess there is.”
“You only guess?”
“All right. I would say you have some cause.”
“Yes I would say that indeed.”
“Look, Miz Rommel—”
“Is this an apology, then?”
“I was getting to that.”
“Then I shall accept it, Herr Garrett.”
Garrett shifted uncomfortably. “That wagon will be ready in the m
orning. Now Albuquerque’s a hundred and twenty miles through real bad country in the heat. There can be no question of such a trip. On the other hand it is only fifty miles down to Roswell and the train. I shall have Will ride along and see that you get there safely.”
“I am grateful, Herr Garrett.”
“You don’t have to be at all.”
“Perhaps you could pack a nice lunch.”
“I don’t see why I couldn’t.”
“And rig some kind of shade for the wagon.”
“I could do that, yes.”
“How nice. A very thoughtful gesture.”
“Miz Rommel—”
“Yes, Herr Garrett?”
Garrett was on the brink of revelation. He had steeled himself for the moment. He would bare the fires of passion that burned within. She would be frightened and appalled but she would know. He saw, then, as the words began to form, that her skin matched the pearly opalescence of the moon, that her hair was saffron-gold, spun fine as down from a baby duck. In an instant, his firm resolve was shattered. He muttered parting words and turned and fled.
A most peculiar man, thought Helene. A drunkard and a lecher without a doubt, yet God was surely within this wayward soul, as He is within us all.
She had meant to go directly to her room. Yet, she found her steps taking her to the barn and knew the reason. Erwin was surely there. The matter must be settled. She loved the boy intently. Anger struggled with the pain she felt in her heart. They had never quarrelled before as they had that morning. She had sternly forbidden him to have anything to do with Orville’s device. Yet, he had openly disobeyed. Helene had no desire to quell his spirit. Still, she could not brook open rebellion in her child.
The moon was bright with chalky splendor. The broad backs of the horses moved like waves on a restless sea. A man came toward her through the dark. From his quick, awkward gait she knew at once that it was Will.
“Good evening,” she said, “can you tell me if my son is back there, please?”
“Yes, ma’am, yes he is,” said Will. “He’s surely there, Miz Rommel.”
Why did the man act in such a manner? He was ever bobbing about like a cork. As if there might be danger in standing still.
“He is not supposed to be there,” Helene sighed. “I am afraid he has disobeyed.”
“That wagon will be ready in the morning,” said Will.
“Yes. So Herr Garrett has explained.” She felt suddenly weary, eager to put this place behind her. “Do you know Erwin well? Have you talked to him at all?”
“No ma’am. Not a lot. He mostly talks to Orville.”
“He feels some kinship with your brother.”
“Yes he surely does.”
“He is a free spirit, your brother. I see that in him clearly.”
“I guess he’s that all right.”
“A man pursuing a dream?”
“He has never been different than he is. The way you see him now. When we were boys he’d say Will, there is a thing I have to do. And I’d say what would that be, Orville, and he’d say man sails boldly before the wind across the seas. I would set him free to sail the land. And I’d say, Orville, why would you want to do that? Lord, I guess I’ve asked that question a million times.”
“And what would Orville say?”
“Same thing every time. Why not, Will?”
“Yes. Yes, of course,” Helene said softly. Oh, Erwin, have I lost you to your dreams so soon!
“Miz Rommel…”
“Yes, Will?”
Will bobbed about again. “Maybe I have no business speaking out. If I don’t you just tell me and I’ll stop. That boy wants to ride in Orville’s machine. Wants it so bad he can taste it. I hope you’ll relent and let him do it. He’s a boy bound and determined is what he is.”
“I think I know that, Will.”
“I am a man of practical bent, Miz Rommel. I will never be anything more. I used to see this as a virtue in myself. In some men maybe it is. In me it is a curse, the great failing of my life. Mr. Garrett thinks Orville is a fool. That I am a man who’s lost his spirit. Perhaps he is right about us both. But he does not know the truth of the matter at all. It is not my brother’s folly that brought us here but mine alone. I failed. I brought us down. We had a small shop where we repaired common household items. Coffee mills, lard presses, ice shavers and the like. Not much but it kept us going. I felt there was something more. I reached for a distant star and invested quite heavily in the windmill accessory business. I think Orville sensed that I was wrong. Out of kindness, he did nothing to dissuade me. When we left Ohio we had nothing but our wagon. A few days’ food and the clothing on our backs. And Orville’s wood and muslin and his motor. Our creditors demanded these as well. I have never stood up for myself. Not once in all my life. But I stood my ground on this. Your Erwin is a good boy, Miz Rommel. Let him be what he will be.”
“Yes. Yes,” said Helene, “I understand what you are saying. And I am grateful to you, Will.”
Helene was taken aback by this long and unexpected declaration. She hadn’t dreamed the man owned so many words, or that he had the passion within him to set them free. Now, as he tried to speak again, he seemed to see what he had done. He had tossed away countless nouns and verbs, spent whole phrases and contractions he couldn’t retrieve. Clutching his hat he bolted past her and disappeared. Helene listened to the horses stir about. Orville laughed and then her son. It seemed one voice instead of two. She made her way quickly to her room.
* * *
Erwin’s mother had asked him if he knew about the man and Erwin did. He knew John took him all his meals. He knew the man never left his room. He was much too angry at his mother to tell her that and so he lied. The lie hurt. It stuck in his throat and stayed, no matter how hard he tried to swallow. Late the night before when he came in from working in the barn she was sitting waiting quietly in the dark. They burst into tears and cried together. Erwin told her he was sorry. She said that it was over now and done. He didn’t feel like growing up and yet he did.
It took all the courage he could muster. Just to stand in front of the door and nothing more. What if John came up the stairs? He wasn’t afraid of John and yet he was.
The door came open with ease. Erwin’s heart beat wildly against his chest. The room was musty, heavy with unpleasant odors. Stale air and sour sweat. Food uneaten and chamber pots neglected. Mostly the smell was time. The room was layered with years. Erwin saw yesterdays stuffed in every corner.
A window centered the wall. The morning burned a harsh square of brightness yet the light failed to penetrate the room. It was stopped, contained, it could go no further than this. The sound of Orville’s machine worried the quiet, probed like a locust through the day.
“You stand there boy you’ll turn to stone. Or is it salt I can’t recall. Salt or stone one. Get over here close so I can see.”
Erwin jumped at the voice. He nearly turned and ran.
“It’s salt. Salt for certain. Lot’s wife. Sodom and Cincinnati. Lo the wicked shall perish and perish they do I have seen a great many of them do it.”
Erwin walked cautiously to the window. The man sat in shadow in a broken wicker chair. The chair had once been painted festive yellow. Down the arms there were eagles or maybe chickens in faded red. Cactus the pale shade of leafy mold. For a moment it seemed to Erwin that the man was wicker too, that the chair had fashioned a person out of itself, thrust brittle strands for arms and legs, burst dry backing from Chihuahua, Mexico, for springy ribs. The whole of this draped with tattered clothes of no description. Hair white silk to the shoulders and beyond. The head newspaper dry as dust, crumpled in a ball and tied with string about the brow, a page very likely blown six hundred miles from Fort Worth across the flats. Eyes and nose and shadow mouth vaguely nibbled into shape by friendly mice.
Or so it all seemed on this attic afternoon.
“Well what’s your name, now,” the man asked, in a voice like rocks in
a skillet.
“Johannes Erwin Eugen Rommel, sir,” said Erwin, scarcely managing to find his voice at all.
“By God. That’s more name than a boy needs to have I’ll tell you sure. What do they call you for short?”
“Erwin, sir.”
“Erwin sir and two more. Might be handy to have a spare at that. Knew a man called Zero Jefferson White. Couldn’t remember who he was. What does your father do?”
“He is a schoolmaster, sir.”
The paper mouth crinkled in a sly and knowing way. “I am aware of that, you see. John has told me all. I am kept informed and don’t forget it.”
“Are you a hundred, sir?” The words came out before he could stop them.
The mouse-nibble eyes searched about. “I might be, I couldn’t say. What year you think it is?”
“Nineteen-hundred-and-three, sir.”
“It is? Are you sure?” The man seemed greatly surprised. “Then I am likely forty-four. I have lived a fretful life and half of that in this chair less than a man. It’s a wonder I look no worse. How old are you?”
“Eleven, sir. I shall be twelve in November. When I am eighteen I shall become a Fahnenjunker. I will be a fine officer cadet, and I shall excel in fencing and riding.”
“I doubt a soldier’s life would have suited me at all. Parades. Lining up and the like. That kind of nonsense and wearing blue shirts. Never trust a man in a blue shirt. You do I can promise you’ll live to regret it.”
The man seemed intrigued by the sight beyond his window, by the sleek muslin craft cutting graceful figure-eights across the sand. The engine clattered the fans roared, and Orville sped his dream across the desert raising great plumes of dust in his wake. The dust rose high in the still hot air and hung above the earth like yellow clouds.
“Charlie Bowdrie and old Dave Rudabaugh would go pick the best horses they could find and start out from Pete Maxwell’s place and ride the mounts full out. Ride them full out without stopping, you understand, until one or the other dropped dead, the horse still running being the winner. The other horse too would generally die as you might expect. A senseless thing to do. Dangerous to the man and plain fatal to the horse.”
“I am sorry that you are ill, sir.”
The Year’s Best Science Fiction: Fourth Annual Collection Page 70