Water and Stone

by Glover, Dan

  She felt her heart cold inside her chest, as if a clawed hand had grasped it and was squeezing tightly. When she tried to scream only a whimper emerged. She was in a tunnel... no, by slow degrees the blackness edged ever closer to the center of her vision until she felt as if she was peering through a periscope like the time she toured a nuclear submarine with the old letch of an admiral who had eyes for her and hands of a Roman.

  A vague sense of consternation began building in the back of her mind... was she dying? Her doctor had continually advised her to lose weight... to exercise more... all the things she hated to hear. Maybe it was the cancer after all. She told herself that father was a big man who carried his weight well so there was no reason why she shouldn’t be able to do the same.

  Just when her vision had become but a pin prick of light in the middle of a sea of darkness and she had given up on holding onto life—at least the life she had known—the ocean of forgetfulness threatening to swallow her began to recede, slowly at first and then with a suddenness that startled her.

  She had passed through some sort of portal... was she in heaven? If so, where were the angels and the music she always associated with that blessed realm? Where was Jesus the Christ? And then she heard it... a haunting melody that seemed to come from all around her... the same tune she thought she might remember hearing on the day she was born.

  Listening with all her might she realized the music wasn’t something she heard in her ears... then again, if she was in heaven why did she think she might still possess the same five senses as she had while alive?

  As the light grew around her she discovered she was no longer in her condominium. Wherever she was, she realized with a start that she'd no idea how to get back... how to return to the place where her body must still be sleeping. Though she tried waking herself up as she had done countless times in the past when her nightmares grew unmanageable she had no success.

  She was awake. Her body felt far lighter than she ever remembered, even as a girl. Looking down at herself she realized with a start that she was naked. She saw but a slip of a girl where before had always existed a behemoth.

  There was someone else there... lots of others, in fact... she could sense their presence. Still... there was one that she recognized though had never met... her husband's son, the one he thought he kept hidden in the little shanty at the edge of the property.

  His name was Church and she owed him an apology.

  Chapter 21

  It was odd how he didn’t feel more pain at hearing the news of his wife's passing.

  Perhaps he'd become numb to the suffering of the world. Growing up like he did with parents who were indifferent to him at best and downright hateful at their worst had instilled a sort of barrier inside of him that kept all deep emotions at bay. He knew enough to understand how it was a defense mechanism—a symptom of post traumatic stress that soldiers sometimes carried home with them from the wars—yet for the life of him he couldn’t understand why anyone would want to subjugate themselves to such pain.

  Had he ever loved his wife? He wondered about it while staring up at the deep Texas sky watching the constellations swirl overhead like sparks from an enormous campfire... like fireflies lost in the heavens and forever seeking home.

  Of course they'd been apart so long if someone was to ask him he could no longer tell them the color of Lorraine's eyes. Had he ever loved her? The question kept coming back like the ache deep inside his bones after the pain killers wore off. Did he know what love was? It was a question that often haunted him most of all just after he closed his eyes to sleep or perhaps just after waking.

  Being estranged from his parents had instilled a certain independence in Rancher Ford from an early age. When he heard of their deaths it was years after the fact and it was only in passing that he even marked their significance in his life.

  Lorraine had been found dead in her room apparently of a cerebral hemorrhage but the autopsy would have to confirm that opinion. Still, no one had any reason to suspect foul play. The woman was loved by everyone. She'd laid down for a nap and never woke up. In his opinion that wasn’t an altogether bad way to go and one he might choose if afforded the opportunity.

  There could have been any number of mitigating factors in her death. The doctor had warned her countless times about the possibilities of a stroke. She carried way too much weight for a woman of her stature but she loved to eat. He was glad to see that Billy didn't favor her in that regard... the boy was strong and muscular like he was at that age.

  "I suppose her father will want her buried out east, Billy. We'll have to abide by his wishes."

  "But why can't mom be buried here, dad? We'll never get to visit her grave if she's back east."

  He agreed with what the boy was saying: Lorraine did belong out west. There was an old graveyard on the southern section of the Triple Six where all three of them had talked on being buried. Of course that was before Lorraine had forsaken the ranch and moved east to be closer to her father, that and the county where they lived in all its wisdom had deemed it improper as well as illegal to be buried upon private property.

  "You're right, Billy. Let's both talk to your grandfather about it when we fly out for the funeral. I'd like to have your mother here too."

  Peter Brown, his family's attorney, could pull some strings and perhaps get permission for them to lay Lorraine at rest on the Triple Six. The good Lord knew he paid the lawyer enough in retainer fees to handle what seemed like a simple request.

  "Let me talk to grandfather... he'll do what I ask... he always has."

  The boy was right. Though Senator Townsend and Rancher Ford had always been cordial with one another, they had never been on friendly terms. Though he never said so directly Rancher had always gotten the impression that the old man thought his daughter could have done better. What's more, Rancher agreed.

  He remembered the first time he had met his future wife and how he had subtlety teased her about wearing two shoes of different colors and how her face had gone white when she realized he had noticed and how the notion grew in his mind even then that she would make a fine bride for a man of his nature.

  Their marriage had been relatively happy, however, even with the obvious differences in their backgrounds. Rancher lived in blue jeans and hand-sewn boots and his ten-gallon hat while Lorraine had always favored her elegant dresses and fine shoes which were totally unsuited for the Triple Six.

  She liked to dress for the black and whites while Rancher Ford hated the balls and dances Lorraine looked forward to all year. In another time and place they'd have never become man and wife but there was something about the stark Texas sky that had brought them together even if it couldn’t keep them as man and wife.

  His teasing had never been meant in a malicious way but sometimes he wondered if Lorraine understood that. He enjoyed teasing Billy too until his wife put an end to it by telling him in no uncertain terms that he was ruining the boy with the nasty comments he made. Perhaps the woman was right.

  He dreaded going to Virginia. Everything moved too quickly and the number of people staggered his imagination. After living at the Triple Six for over thirty years when he went east and saw the tiny houses clumped together on minute pieces of land they called yards he realized how blessed he'd been to have landed in Texas.

  Rancher Ford had half a mind to simply bring Lorraine home, hold the funeral in Guthrie, and bury her on the ranch where they had always planned on spending eternity together. Senator Townsend would throw a fit, however, and he couldn’t afford to anger such a powerful man... not when his plans were coming so close to fruition.

  The Senator had been instrumental in helping Rancher Ford procure a contract to supply beef to nearly all the army bases west of the Mississippi... the logistics of which were astronomical and yet the payoff ran into the hundreds of millions of dollars over the length of the agreement.

  No... it was better to go east for the funeral. If Billy could talk the old man i
nto allowing Lorraine to be buried in Texas, all the better. If not, then it didn’t matter that much to him. He never understood the need to visit the dead. Rancher Ford figured once a body took leave of the world they had no further interest in the people left behind or their doings.

  He'd been struck lately at how beautiful Yani was, even in her work clothes and without a hint of makeup. Most all the women he frequented seemed to believe by spackling on the rogue and loading up their eyes with smoky colors they somehow became irresistible to men folk. He simply found it silly.

  Rancher Ford had been fighting a hankering to pull Yani aside, get right down on his knees, and beg her to forgive him for his cruelty... to ask her to move into the hacienda now that he was a widower and to bring Church with her. The boy spent most of his time there anyhow.

  He kept imagining the girl turning him down flat. Rejection was something foreign to Rancher Ford, at least when it came to his dealings with the women over the last couple decades. Oh, he figured they talked about him behind his back—the townsfolk—like all common people gossiped over those more fortunate than themselves. Still, he was accorded respect even if grudgingly by everyone he met, at least to his face. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to ask Yani to be his again only to have her refuse him.

  It was hard to believe Church was eighteen already. Though Billy had long ago given up on going to the university out east Rancher wondered if his second son might cotton to the idea. The boy was always reading and he seemed to have a genuine longing to learn as much about the world as possible.

  He decided it would be better to wait a decent period of time before approaching Yani... the town of Guthrie seemed to be fueled by the talk that ran thick and hot like lahars through the diner and the other stores that littered its streets. He didn't need more enemies than he already had... he was still amazed at Billy for buying the old Craven place after the old man had refused to sell for so many years.

  Though he was proud of him Lorraine had been bitterly disappointed in Billy. Perhaps that was one of the reasons for his wife's departure from the Triple Six though of course he'd never voice that opinion to the boy. She seemed to think that as his father Rancher should have taken a firmer hand in cajoling the boy into getting an education but to force Billy into doing something against his nature seemed both pointless and foolhardy.

  Perhaps he was trying too hard to be the antithesis of his own father, a heartless alcoholic bastard whose only joy in life was abusing his wife and son. When Rancher Ford had left Indiana inside that old boxcar he swore to himself he'd never have children, not if that was the world they'd be brought into.

  The years had softened his outlook or maybe it was his age that had brought a sense of wisdom he sorely lacked in those long ago days. One thing he did know, however, was that a college education didn't add nearly as much to a man's knowledge as did ranching.

  Each day on the Triple Six was a challenge. Lorraine had harangued him for years about how he was working himself into an early grave by putting in the hours he did on the ranch. It was true that he could afford to hire help but at the same time Rancher Ford had learned how only a person who truly cared would do the job properly... the rest would only play around the edges.

  That was what he loved about both his sons, among other things, of course. Billy and Church understood the value of hard work. They seemed to know instinctively that what they did today would echo down through the generations. While other boys their age were off at college partying and chasing girls Billy and Church seemed to have set goals for themselves that made him proud to call them his sons.

  While it was true that he would rather Billy had taken up with someone other than Evalena he didn't begrudge the boy his happiness. Yani's younger sister seemed a tad more than the boy could handle but at the same time she was a woman who could teach a man many things... not the least of which was how to be happy.

  Was that wedding bells he kept hearing at night when the wind was right?

  Chapter 22

  She felt like a thief in danger of being caught out for it.

  The piedra had been sent to Evalena yet she'd kept it... first out of anger for her sister after having threatened Church but later in fear of what the girl might become if she had access to the stone. Drugging Billy with a sleeping herb and then going and digging up the treasure herself had been a mistake. She should've just let them have it.

  It seemed as if things were going ill for everyone ever since that day. First, Rancher Ford had taken sick... the doctor told him that he had kidney disease and was suffering from renal failure... that unless he received a transplant he would likely die. The dialysis pulled hard on him but it was the only thing keeping Rancher alive.

  Going into the relationship Yani dreamed of how she was going to be his new wife... instead, she was a nursemaid. Where once Rancher Ford was a big man he had shrunk into little more than a skeleton and each day he seemed to lose more weight.

  And then Church disappeared. While it was true she'd given him the stone while asking him to hide it somewhere safe she never dreamed he'd leave the ranch without a word to anyone. Though she asked around town no one'd seen him. She wondered if the boy finally decided to quit the Triple Six and strike out on his own... he'd talked for years of seeing the world and she liked to think of him finally living his dream.

  On the other hand, had the boy found his death? As a mother she thought she'd sense the scream of his soul going back to that eternity from which it issued but she'd felt nothing. Did that mean he yet lived? Or merely that she was and would always be but a fool?

  It seemed odd that Rancher had taken sick the day after he said he'd ridden to the chabola to speak with Billy. Apparently he'd seen an old man there who he thought might be his own father—the resemblance was startling—but when he tried to speak him Evalena rushed out to hurry him away saying he was no longer welcome there.

  "When I first saw him I swear it was my father, Yani... but how could he have found his way here?"

  "Evalena has a way with men, Rancher. It could have been anyone."

  "You're right, of course... maybe it was someone else with Evalena and not my father at all. But who could it have been? And where's Billy? None of this makes sense."

  "Did you ask Evalena about Billy?"

  "I never had the chance. She came storming out of the cabin like I was there to steal everything she owned. I only wanted to see Billy."

  She knew it hurt him how Billy didn't go to his mother's funeral. Even though they made arrangements to fly out east together, Billy hadn't showed up at the airport. Instead, at the last minute Church had gone with his father.

  "What did Evalena say to you, Rancher? Why was she angry with you?"

  She hadn’t known he was going to the chabola or she'd have insisted upon going along with him. Evalena could be cantankerous when confronted by the unexpected visitor. It bothered Yani that Rancher didn't see fit to confide his plans to her but then again they weren’t man and wife... he wasn’t beholden to her for anything.

  "She told me to leave and not to return. She said I wasn’t welcome there... that I was sullying my dead wife's memory by wallowing with you and by allowing Church to move into the hacienda. I swear though... I think she was hiding something or someone."

  Later that same day Yani had gone to the chabola. Hoping Church might be there and despite knowing he wasn’t she'd taken the Jeep to drive out to Cherry Creek Road. She also had half a mind to give Evalena a scolding for having treated Rancher Ford in such a manner... after all, the man owned the dirt under the girl's fingernails.

  The first things she noticed were the cobwebs. They were draped everywhere. The enormous black spiders seemed to take notice of her and for a maddening moment she wondered what it would be like to be attacked by them, pumped full of venom, and wrapped up like a mummy. How long would she live while the life was sucked out of her a little at a time?

  She always thought it strange how the spiders seemed to mul
tiply after Evalena moved into the chabola with her and Church. Prior to her sister's arrival it was rare to see any cobwebs at all. But shortly after Evalena appeared on her doorstep the spiders seemed to proliferate.

  While she lived at the chabola along with her sister she was able to keep the population down by planting peppermint throughout her many gardens. The spiders hated it. Now she noticed right off that all her gardens were dead... either Evalena had ceased to water them or more likely the spiders had killed them.

  She'd rather deal with most anything other than spiders. Snakes and scorpions didn't bother her nearly as much as running headlong into a gigantic cobweb and not knowing if it was full of the eight-legged critters or not.

  Despite her consternation over the spiders she parked the Jeep far enough away that she was certain no one in the chabola could hear her approach. Walking up the path to the little shack she mourned the devastation unfurling all around her. Through the tiny windowpane in the door she could see the oil lanterns were lighted inside the shack as the purple hand of deep dusk was just beginning to shadow the land. She didn't knock at the door, however.

  In years past even though the land was dry colorful wild flowers had grown in the shade offered by the ash trees she had planted along the rocky path. Yani harvested the flower seeds each autumn and in the spring she sprinkled them in places she knew they liked taking care to water them copiously using buckets to haul water from the creeks out back. Now all that grew was a kind of prickly iron weed and even it looked sickly.

  Coming to the copse of dying oak trees she'd planted years ago she surveyed the little cabin from a distance. Instead of colorful flower blossoms and medicinal herbs, creeping vines as thick as her wrists had taken over the yard. The roof on the shack seemed to be sagging in the middle the way she never noticed in the past. The single window had been boarded over on the outside with a piece of crooked and weather-beaten plywood and on the east side of the shack a dark viscous substance seemed to be leaking through the bottom of the wall from the inside.