We held each other’s gaze for a long time. There weren’t any words to say. I knew now more than ever why the Paiutes had called him Hawk. His eyes were piercing straight into mine, and I knew he knew everything without me having to say a word.
His eyes were looking inside, just like he always taught me to do. Maybe I was learning, because I think I saw deeper into him, too, than I ever had before.
His eyes got bright and grew thick with tears, just like the tears that were swimming around in my eyes. I reckon what I saw in that moment, as much as it humbles me to say it, was that Hawk loved me and was gonna miss me as much as I would miss him.
“Well, Grayfox,” he finally said, in a husky voice, “looks to me like you’re about to finish earning your name.”
I nodded and blinked a few times. If I tried to say anything, I knew I’d break out crying again. And though I knew Hawk wouldn’t think less of me for it, it just didn’t seem like the right time.
“Do what you got to do, and then you’ll be a man, Zack Hollister,” he said. “I’m right proud of you.”
“Thanks, Hawk,” I said, finally choking the words out. “Thanks for everything.”
“God go with you, son.”
He shook my hand, then let it go.
For another second our eyes held their final embrace. Then I turned and mounted the horse.
“Miracle Springs,” I said down to him. “You can always get in touch with me there . . . or find me, if you get a hankering to see California.”
Hawk laughed. “I just may take you up on that, Grayfox,” he said.
I took the reins in my hands, spun around, dug in my heels, and galloped away. I glanced back for one final wave, then turned again and didn’t look back until I was out of sight over the next ridge heading west.
I couldn’t have seen him then if I had. My eyes were full of tears again, and I just clung tight with my knees and hoped the horse knew the way well enough to stay on the trail.
Chapter 55
The Ride Back
The ride back across the desert of the Great Basin was miserably hot and dry, and after the first day or two, I found my pace slowing. ’Course I’d have killed the horse if I hadn’t. But also, once my sights were set on home, I became less anxious about hurrying.
There were a lot of things I needed to think about first.
Most of the time I was hardly aware of the country I was riding through. It was hardly boring anymore, now that I knew its secrets, but my mind was so full of different kinds of thoughts that I didn’t notice much. It seemed like everything Hawk had told me over the past year made sense in a whole new light. The inner eyes he was always talking about had opened and suddenly a lot of things came clear.
That was another thing he said—that once you make up your mind to do something and then follow through and do it, your understanding would follow, but you can’t understand until you do. Now I remembered him saying that, and I was seeing it happen right inside my own brain. The second I set my sights on home, everything started to make sense.
I thought about how Hawk had drawn out Jack Demming that night around the campfire, got him to talking about his father. I saw it all so clearly now, how he wanted me to see that everyone has things they can hold against their folks, if that’s what they’re determined to do. Everybody’s got the choice whether to turn grudges into hate, like Demming had, or to turn them the other way, into forgiveness and strength of character . . . like Hawk had.
One of the things I saw had to do with Hawk himself. I saw that a lesser man would probably have tried to get me to stay with him. It was obvious he enjoyed having me there with him. He’d said so more than once. He could have tried to make me even more dissatisfied with home and tried to talk me out of going back and kept me to himself.
But instead of taking advantage of my problems with Pa, Hawk tried to help me work them out. He never tried to make himself look good in my eyes, but he always tried to make me look at Pa and myself more honestly.
I saw what a sacrificing thing Hawk had done, even when it meant him having to be alone again, by forcing me to face up to my situation and then sending me—almost forcing me in one way of looking at it—to go back home and make it right. When we said goodbye, he didn’t even say he’d miss me. He didn’t want to do anything to make it harder for me to leave.
One night as I lay down on the hard desert ground by myself, and then as I drifted off to sleep beside the fire I’d made, I dreamed about Hawk. I saw his face smiling at me, almost like he was looking down on me as I lay there.
Remembering it the next day, I realized that Hawk really was one of the best friends I’d ever had because of how he made me look at myself and then, when he figured the time was right, pushed me back toward home. He was a real friend because he cared more about me than himself.
I realized a lot of things about Pa too. And probably the strongest realization was the simplest of all—that I was the son of Drummond Hollister, and that in a bunch of ways I was who I was because of him.
I’d been so quick to criticize him and to think he’d done me wrong in a lot of ways. But I now saw that much of what I valued about myself had come straight from him. I was more like him than I’d ever realized. He’d taught me more than I’d ever been aware.
I’d been so quick to credit Hawk for teaching me so many things—and he had. Yet for years Pa had been quietly building into me too. I’d just been so confused by the brokenness of his mirror that I hadn’t let myself see how many good ways he shaped my life and who I was.
For instance, I’d saved Hawk’s life—and probably my own too—because I knew how to handle a rifle. When I shot the pistol out of Demming’s hand, that was Pa’s training coming through. He gave me my first rifle and taught me how to use it.
Here’s another thing—I’d gone off to try to find Laughing Waters even after I was safely away from the Paiute camp. I didn’t have to do that. I could have just tried to save my own skin instead of risking my life for an Indian girl I’d never seen. And why had I gone riding into danger without even thinking twice about it? I’d seen Pa make sacrifices for the rest of us dozens of times without ever thinking about it. Now I saw that by watching him, some of that same quality had got into me . . . without me even knowing it.
Then I thought about Pa leaving Ma and us kids so many years before, when we still lived in New York. That was something I reckon I was angry with him about all this time. But now I began to realize that maybe Pa had done it in order to keep the danger away from us.
If he’d been around men like Buck Krebbs and Jack Demming, it made sense that he’d been trying to protect us from harm by getting as far away as he could. They both tried to follow his trail—and maybe he knew they would. Maybe he knew we would never be safe with him. So he left, as hard as it must’ve been . . . for our good.
It was just exactly what I did to lure Demming away from Laughing Waters—getting him to follow me so the danger wouldn’t be so close to her. And all that time, without knowing it, I was following the example of just what Pa had done!
In so many ways, I was just like Pa!
Hawk taught me how to look for things in the desert, how to see what the birds and weather and terrain out there were saying, how to find water. But it was Pa that helped shape me into the person I was. It was Pa who made me the kind of person that wanted to look and see and always find more.
Suddenly talk after talk with Pa came back to me, times we’d be together in the mine, and he’d be teaching me things just like Hawk.
“You see there, Zack,” I remembered him saying, “you see where that line of quartz runs out?”
He pointed with his finger down along the wall of the mine, and I followed with my eyes.
“That tells me there’s likely more quartz back there behind this wall someplace. Usually when it runs out so sudden like that, it pops back up again. Only trick is knowing where it’s gonna do it!”
Then Pa’s laugh came back
to me, as I remembered him and me leaving the mine that day, his arm slung over my shoulder as we talked back and forth all the way down to the house.
I heard him laughing more and more these days in my memory, and it made me sad to think I’d forgotten how much fun we used to have together. He had been a fun pa to be with, to work with, to sweat with . . . until I’d let myself believe the lies and let the anger and independence get hold of me.
I regretted all that now.
Then I remembered something else Pa’d told me, not only that day but lots of times.
“What you gotta realize, son,” he said, “is that there’s always more gold back inside this hill. We can’t see it . . . but it’s there. The trick is learning to see what most folks can’t—learning to see into the middle of the mountain . . . learning to sense where the vein is, even though your eyes can’t see it.”
I couldn’t believe it! Pa had been teaching me to look inside things long before I’d ever met Hawk!
And then I started to realize one more thing about Pa and about how much like him I was. I’d been angry with Pa all this time for leaving his family to go off alone. But what about me? What had I done but that very thing? I’d run off too . . . and I didn’t have any reason for it other than feeling sorry for myself!
And Pa had eventually taken responsibility back on his shoulders. He faced up to his past mistakes and had admitted everything to Sheriff Rafferty. He was even willing to face going to jail if it came to that. He didn’t try to run away from his past and hide from what he’d done. He’d owned up to it all . . . like a man.
He’d shown that greater and deeper kind of bravery, just as Hawk talked about—the willingness to face what was inside himself.
Pa had that kind of courage!
Did I have as much courage as my own pa? Like Hawk had forced me to ask: Did I have the guts to take responsibility for what I had done and be fully the man I now saw Pa was?
I was riding west toward California, on my way to find out the answer to that question.
Chapter 56
Home Again
It was a hot, muggy day toward the end of August 1861, when I rode back into Miracle Springs, California.
There wasn’t a breath of wind.
My poor horse was tuckered out, both from the heat and the days of riding. And as anxious as I had been to get home, I was tuckered out too—plus a mite jittery inside. So I was content to sit on his back and ride along slowly.
I rode through town with my hat pulled down over my eyes. I didn’t want to see anyone I knew. There were too many thoughts and emotions going through me in too many directions. I only glanced about now and then from under the brim of my hat just in case Pa might be in town. I looked in at the Mine and Freight, but didn’t see Pa or Corrie or Almeda anywhere around.
Then I headed out of town and up toward the house and our claim.
I was nervous by then!
What would Pa say? He’d have every right to give me a real tongue-lashing for what I’d done. He’d even have the right to deck me with his fist for what I said to Almeda. If he did, I wouldn’t argue.
No matter what Pa did, it was still going to be hard to face him again. I knew that’s exactly what I had to do. I’d done wrong, and it was time to own up to it. But that didn’t mean it was going to be easy.
The closer I got to home, without even thinking about it, I must’ve let the horse move slower and slower. By the time I rounded the last bend and saw the house again, his hooves were clomping down that dusty road in a slow cadence that seemed as sleepy as the hot afternoon.
The first thing I saw was Corrie, standing on the porch with her hand over her eyes, shielding them from the sun. She was looking in my direction, but then I saw her turn and look up toward the mine.
There was Pa, walking slowly down toward the house!
I heard a voice call out something inside. But I wasn’t paying attention to the house anymore. My eyes were fixed on Pa.
And now he’d seen me . . . he was running toward me!
More noises came from the house . . . shouts . . . people were running outside! People were calling out my name!
I reined my horse to a stop and slipped out of the saddle. I tried to walk forward, but I’d only taken a step or two when Pa reached me. He threw his big arms around me and squeezed me tight, holding me to his damp, sweaty chest.
I stretched my arms around his waist and closed my eyes.
I couldn’t believe it—Pa was weeping.
So was I.
Chapter 57
Whole Again
Pa and I stood there silently holding each other for a long minute.
When we finally let go and stepped back, Pa looked into my face, and then said, “Welcome home, son!”
It was like a spell was suddenly broke.
All at once everyone else rushed forward and swarmed around me with hugs and kisses and a thousand questions, laughing and talking and grabbing at me. I couldn’t say a thing! At first I forgot that they must have all thought I was dead.
“Nice beard, Zack!” said Tad.
“You little runt,” I said back, giving him a friendly little shove with my hand, “you went and grew up while I was gone!”
I was turning all around, trying to take everybody in.
The next person my eyes lit on was Becky.
“And you, Becky!” I hollered. “When did you get to be such a beautiful, grown-up woman!”
Then I spotted Corrie.
At first I couldn’t find any words to say to her. Corrie and me were the oldest of the five, and I think the older we got the more special she was to me. She was just about the best sister a fellow could ever have, and in those first seconds, seeing her again, I realized how much I loved her.
Finally all I could do was give her a long hug.
I could tell she was trying to say something, but it took a while for her to get the words out of her throat.
“Oh, Zack,” she finally said. “I . . . I was afraid . . . I’m just so glad to see you!”
Then I hugged my stepma. “Almeda,” I said.
“Oh, Zack . . . we love you so much!” she said, still crying. I didn’t hardly have any breath left in me after she got done hugging me!
All this time Pa had been standing back, wiping his eyes. Now he stepped toward me again. I wondered what he was going to say, if he was going to mention anything about the day I left so angrily. The nervousness I felt riding home came back. But Pa wasn’t thinking anything about that awful day—at least not right then.
“How about a handshake of welcome, Zack?” was all he said. “A handshake between men . . . man to man!”
Pa stuck out his hand toward me.
I couldn’t reply. I knew if I tried to say anything, I would lose my voice altogether.
I reached out and took his hand.
It was just like the final handshake with Hawk. We just stood there grasping each other firmly, gazing deep into each other’s eyes. There wasn’t nothing neither of us needed to say.
I think at that moment both Pa and me knew well enough what the other was saying inside. The look we gave each other meant that everything was forgiven—on both sides.
This time it was Becky who spoke up first.
“Why did you grow the beard, Zack?” she asked.
“It’s a long story,” I answered as I released Pa’s hand.
“Where you been?” asked Tad.
“Another long story!” I laughed.
“What’s that hanging from your saddle, Zack?” asked Tad.
I turned around and looked.
“That’s a quiver . . . for arrows.”
“Why’s it empty?”
“That one’s real long,” I said, only this time I didn’t laugh when I said it.
“How did you get—” asked Corrie, then she interrupted herself. “Wait, I know—it’s a long story, right?”
I nodded. “Right,” I said, “but the why of it isn’t so long.�
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I paused and thought for a minute. It was another one of those times when everything you’ve been through runs past your mind in a few seconds.
“Are you going to tell us the why, then?” Corrie prompted.
“I’ll tell you everything,” I answered, “when the time is right.”
“Give the man a chance to get the dust off his feet, Corrie,” said Pa.
Probably none of the others noticed. But my heart practically leapt out of my chest. It suddenly dawned on me that Pa was calling me a man. I don’t know that he ever had before, or if he had maybe and I hadn’t noticed. But it sure sounded good. Maybe for the first time in my life, I was ready to believe it!
“Come on, Zack, son,” Pa went on, “let’s get that horse of yours put up. Then what do you say me and you go up and give a howdy to your uncle . . . and Alkali up at the mine!”
“Sure, Pa,” I said. “Yeah, I’d like to see them too!”
We turned and headed toward the barn. I reckon by now I was an inch or two taller than Pa. But that didn’t matter. Pa threw his arm up around my shoulder as we walked. With the leather reins in my free hand I pulled the horse along behind us as we walked.
When we were about halfway to the barn, Pa stopped and turned back around.
“Almeda!” he called back. “You start figuring on how to fix up the best vittles we ever had! Corrie, you make up a heap of those biscuits of yours. We’ll invite the Reverend and his wife, and Nick and Katie—I know they’ll all be anxious to see Zack. We’ll have us a great time!”
He turned back, and he and I continued on to the barn.
“It’s mighty good to have you home, Zack,” said Pa softly.
“It’s good to be home, Pa.”
Chapter 58
Words Between Men
We got the horse put up, then puttered around in the barn a while, making small talk.
Finally we both wound up standing side by side, leaning against the rails of one of the stalls, looking inside at the horse that brought me all this way back from the desert.
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