I think you will not be surprised, Judge, to hear it was Mr Pacheco that had hold of me. He hauled me onto the bank and left me there on my belly, spitting mud and coughing water, whilst he climbed out onto the branch that Sam was still clinging to. He hollered at her over the roaring of the river to get hold of the branches and move toward him. He shouted that he could not go out to the end where she was, as the branch was at risk of breaking and she would go with it. He told her where to put her feet, where to grab hold, and how quick to move. He kept her coming.
I did not hear a peep out of her the whole time. She locked her eyes on him and done just what he said.
He said, Neenya, you are almost here now.
The next thing I knew he was dumping her onto the ground beside me. She was shaking so hard her teeth clanked. I guess we was a pitiful sight together. I had no shoes. Sam’s shirt was nowhere about. She had Mr Pacheco’s sleeve tied around her neck, and had on her trousers, but nothing other than that. He took off what remained of his shirt and covered her up. His boots was on the bank, as he must of thrown them off before going into the water. He squatted on his bare feet, wearing nothing but his black trousers and huffing and puffing beside the pinto. Twigs and cypress needles dangled out of his hair, his skin looked white from being cold, the powder that was burned into his face looked blacker than before, on account of his face looked whiter, and his hands was bleeding, as was mine too.
He said, Deeos meeo.
I said, Did the water get Preacher Dob and my mare.
He said he believed they was all right, as Preacher Dob had got the mare and the dog up the slope before the water struck them.
The three of us huffed and puffed and wiped water out of our eyes. The pinto was breathing hard too. His head drooped. He was lathered from running so fast at the top of the bluff. He had outrun the river. Mr Pacheco stroked his head.
We heard a snapping and crackling over the roar of the river and seen the cypress tree break free and commence to move out into the current.
I said, The panther is snared in branches under there.
I guess Mr Pacheco knew that. I guess if he seen me topple into the water and get stuck in the branches, he seen the panther go in too.
He squinted his eyes as the tree headed off downriver and picked up speed, dragging beneath it my third of two thousand dollars, and his third of it too, and the future we might of had, and the hide Sam wanted to walk on. We watched it all go. Mr Pacheco shook his head and made a regretful sound. He patted Sam’s leg and begun to say something, as if to raise our spirits. However, before he had got a word out we was surprised by a loud gunshot from upriver, and turned and seen the fat man come riding full speed in our direction.
Mr Pacheco give me a unsure look. I seen in his eyes he did not want to leave me and Sam there on the bank, cold as we was, without food nor shelter, still coughing water. But what choice did he have.
I said, Mr Pacheco, go.
He took a look at his boots beside him and tossed them at me. He took up the pistol he had laid aside, the one he had taken from Hanlin. He said a thing or two I did not make out about Deeos and ameegos, by which I think he called us his friends. Then he mounted the pinto barefoot and lit out into the cedars behind us and up the slope, riding toward the rim, firing Hanlin’s pistol down at the fat man as he gone. We glimpsed them both in snatches amongst the trees whilst they made their way up, rocks tumbling down behind them. They was yelling and shooting at one another. We heard them feebly over the roar of the river.
We stood up and watched until they topped the canyon, and then we seen them no more. I have seen neither Mr Pacheco, nor the pinto, nor the fat man since then. However, Mr Pacheco was in the lead of the fat man, and mounted upon a nobler horse, and I believe he outrun him.
So ends my honest testament as to all I know of the deeds and death of Clarence Hanlin and all things and folks related to my acquaintance with him.
Chapter 13
Dear Judge,
You could of knocked me over with cotton fluff when Mr Hildebrand give me another parcel from you. I was not expecting such a thing but stopped for a visit, as I was in town and I had change in my pocket for strudel. I have determined to pay for the strudel now, as I have no more official business with Mr Hildebrand.
And there sat your parcel right on his desk. He said, Well, pick it up.
I could not believe how heavy it was. He wanted me to open it so he might see what was in it. However, I enjoyed pondering on that myself, so I packed it on my mare and come home with it and opened it when I could take the suspense no longer.
Sir, I was hoping it would be books, and it looks like you read my mind. I have never heard of these books but I am excited to read them. I do not know who Tristram Shandy is and I am eager to learn about his opinions. I do know about Benjamin Franklin and it looks like he has told some good stories on hisself in this book. I will also enjoy knowing about the Roman Empire, as I have heard of it. The book on grammar will come in handy, as my grammar is not perfect and Sam could use a great deal of instruction. I will take you up on teaching her how to read. She has been interested to learn but I have not taught her, as I have been too busy to do so. Also, she has not done a great deal for me, and I have begrudged her that, as you know, but at your suggestion I will now take time. She is happy with the scarf you sent her and has put it on and wore it down to the creek in spite of it is not cold out and there is nobody she might show it off to but the sow. She has got it on down there as I write. Also the necklace with the glass beads. The socks for me will come in handy, as the ones of my father’s I wore was done in. Thank you, sir. It was like a large number of Christmases come our way all at once, late and early too.
As to your letter, I will do what you think I aught to and write other accounts of events that befall me in my life as you suggested. However, I do not think they will be of as much interest to anybody as this account about Clarence Hanlin has been to you, as I have not seen any other people hanged nor looted since the day I seen Hanlin’s unlawful actions on the Julian, and it could be I never do. However, maybe I will. I have been reading The Whale again, and I seen where Ishmael says that a most perilous and long voyage ended only begins a second, and a second ended only begins a third, and so on, for ever and for aye.
I did promise you that I would write another letter and I am sorry to of spent a month before doing it. The man I told you about whose place is next to the camp and whose cows got loose that time has purchased six uncommon long-haired goats and I been helping him stack rock walls and build more fences and am too tired at night to put pen to paper. But I do not have to work today and am eager to write you the letter, of which this is it. It is the last one you will need from me.
I am glad you asked about what happened to us after the flood and inquired of Preacher Dob. He was all right. After the fat man chased Mr Pacheco up the hill to get back the pinto he felt was rightfully his, which it might or might not of been, depending on factors that you have more knowledge about than I do, on account of you are a judge, Sam and me walked upriver in the direction of Bandera.
It was a miserable walk. I did not have shoes. I did not have a shirt, neither. I had Mr Pacheco’s boots that he left me but I give them to Sam to wear. My father would of rose up out of his grave had I wore the boots and let her feet freeze. They was big for her puny feet though, and she stumbled a good bit. She had on Mr Pacheco’s shirt with the one sleeve tore off and tied around her neck to cover the scratches the panther had made when he knocked her down in the cave. We was both lucky to have trousers.
The day was freezing and we was wet. A north wind blew. There was ice in Sam’s hair. The sky was like flint, however there was no rain nor sleet. The river withdrawn back in its banks and there was a great deal of wreckage and ruin left behind, with trees tore up and driftwood piled high. Cypress trees that remained upright was skinned of their bark. Some was broke in half. The river had made shortcuts in places that was lower, and
we was forced to walk through streams of freezing water, despite the fact we stayed on one side of the river.
Whilst we walked, Sam commenced to brood and then to complain and argue. She was having some trouble, as her teeth was clanking together and her lips was stiff from being so cold, but she managed to keep on talking. Things was building up inside her. She was trounced, body and soul, on account of killing the panther was likely a lost cause now that he was almost assuredly dead. She showed spite toward me and pestered and blamed me for how things was. She got in her head that the panther might still be vital and we should go back and look for him, as she would know the right cypress tree and we might look under it now that the water was down and see if the panther was stuck alive under there.
I told her that was a stupid idea and I did not want to hear her talking about it. I told her there was no way a creature could live that long without drawing a breath. She argued that even if the panther was dead, we aught to go back for the hide. She was not thinking straight. I was not sure I was thinking straight neither by then, as I was so cold. However, I had wits enough not to turn around and head downriver to look for that tree and haul a dead panther out from under it and skin him and carry his waterlogged, beat up old hide back to wherever we might get to before freezing or starving to death in the task. Also, there was no way to skin him, even if I had chosen to make the effort. We did not have a knife, and I had no plans to try to shoulder the panther up and carry him whole. He would be stiff as a board by the time we got him anywhere we needed to be. It was not something I intended to do, nor even to hear suggested by the likes of her, who had got us into the bad situation we was in.
After I had my say about that, she become quiet and surly again. I seen a lot of anger was jammed up inside her and aching to bust loose. I did not feel she had a right to be spiteful with me, and yet I knew I would have no choice but to take on her anger, as there was nobody else to do so. We was in the middle of nowhere, and nearly froze to death, and it was up to me to take on whatever I had to take on, and get us home.
I will tell you, Judge, I was scared. I missed having Preacher Dob and Mr Pacheco alongside me to consider with and to make decisions on things. I wondered if Preacher Dob was looking after my mare and if Mr Pacheco had got away. Mostly I missed my father and wanted his counsel. I thought of our home and how it would be when we got there. It had not been the same place, empty of him. I thought of the camel’s old carcass laying nearly on top of the old chief’s grave, stiff and dripping icicles from the cold rains and pecked to pieces by buzzards and bothered by our pigs and half eaten by wolves and coyotes, as it would surely be. I thought of the bowl of bloody water leftover from Mr Pacheco cleaning up Hanlin’s hand that would still be on our table, probably froze hard by now. I thought of having no food, and no warmth, and no powder nor balls, and how cold the winter was bound to be. And I commenced to become nearly as gloomy as Ishmael whilst Sam harassed me about the way we was headed, and badgered me about turning back. It was a lot to put up with from her. Things was hazy, as I was so tired, and I was relieved when her chatter become a mere mumble that I did not have to answer to anymore. She did not seem to notice when I ceased to answer, but went on mumbling and making no sense at all about the panther, and about Juda, and other such things that had nothing to do with where we was, nor where we was trying to get to.
After a while, she sat down on a rock.
I said, Get up. We got to keep going.
I can’t, she said. I need a rest.
I said, You can’t have one. We can’t stop here. We’ll freeze to death. I ain’t freezing to death with you.
I commenced to prod her. However, she would not get up, and I had to yank her up by her hair and nearly drag her.
We had gone some way like this, with her mumbling and falling down and fighting me off from shoving and pulling at her, when we seen a rider on horseback coming our way on our side of the river. Under other circumstances we might of hid in the cedars, as we could not make out who it might be, and we was in unknown territory. But I did not have the energy to haul Sam there. So we waited whilst the rider approached. It did not take us long to figure out that it was Preacher Dob, on account of he had a dog in his lap and was riding my mare.
He seen us, reined in, dismounted, and broke down crying. I thought Zechariah must be passed and that was the cause of the tears. I confess the dog did look dead. The smell of the skunk had not wore off, and the wounds looked like they was festered. However, Zechariah was alive and Preacher Dob was crying on account of he was so happy to see us and not on account of the dog being dead. He had rode our direction downriver in search of us instead of going upriver toward home, despite he was hurt and his dog was nearly done in.
He said, I thought you two was carried off to the Promised Land. Lord, look at you both. Oh, dear. Oh, Lord. You’re nearly froze. We got to get you some warmth right away.
He rubbed our arms and tried to get color back into me, as he said I was blue. Sam was not right in the head and was breathing fast and talking about things that made no sense, like where was our hogs. She seemed to think we was at our creek looking for the old sow. Preacher Dob had Hanlin’s haversack, which held some matches, so he built us a quick fire. It was a small one, as things was soaked. He jammed me and Sam together and hauled Zechariah down off the mare and nestled him into our laps to try to feed us some of his warmth. The fact the dog stank so bad hardly mattered to me, as he was warmer than we was. His breath stank too, but it was warm, so I did not mind him breathing on me.
Preacher Dob went off in search of dry wood and come back with some, and got the fire going better. He made us take off our wet pants and said, Never mind that you’re naked, nobody cares.
Sam had on Mr Pacheco’s shirt, and it was fairly dry by now, so that was lucky.
Preacher Dob strung our pants on a limb by the fire and set Mr Pacheco’s boots alongside to get toasty. He give us the rest of the biscuits in the haversack and boiled water in Hanlin’s tin cup and made us drink it.
When Sam was warmed up some, and back to her normal thinking, she told Preacher Dob the panther was downriver stuck under a tree.
He’s dead, I said. Hanlin is too. I seen him float by. I told Preacher Dob that Mr Pacheco had rescued us from a tree and that I thought he was all right, but that the fat man taken off after him and they exchanged gunshots.
Preacher Dob become nearly speechless upon hearing all that news. I guess he figured some of it was good news, and some bad, and some hard to decide about. He shook his head and said, My poor sister. Then he said, May the Lord deliver Mr Pacheco to safety. Then he said, It is a blessing at least to be rid of the panther. Now he can’t hurt innocent folks.
Sam looked churlish at him and said, You might think it’s a blessing, but it ain’t. We did not kill him. If he’s dead it’s on account of he got stuck under a tree.
I did not like the fact that she give me no credit for my part in the matter. I said, You forget he got stuck under the tree on account of I poked his eyes with a stick and knocked him off the branch to save you.
She give me a look like Juda, and said, You had better not try to take the glory. It was not you that done it. He drowned on his own. You would not even of been there if I hadn’t made you to come along. If he’s dead, it’s my glory.
If I could of foreseen how bad she would take it, I would of kept my mouth shut at that time. However, I was tired and hungry and cold and could not even wish I was home, because what kind of a home did I have. So I said, You was hanging on to a branch for your life. You would be dead if not for me. You get no glory at all. I have saved you three times. You owe me some thanks.
Judge, I will tell you what. It was like another flood took place on that river. Sam’s face balled up in a wad and she put her head back and opened her mouth and out come the most horrible grieving wailing noise I ever heard out of a human being. She shoved the dog out of our lap and come up off the ground where she sat, and screamed
that I was a liar. She pounced on me with her fists. I made a attempt to get hold of her arms to avoid taking a beating. Preacher Dob made a effort to help me but he was kept busy stopping my mare from rearing up and running away. I guess she had put up with more than her share of shrieking from Indians back in her day, and would not put up with that kind of senseless yelling from us.
I tussled Sam to the ground on her belly and sat on her. She stopped screeching but kept on crying into the mud. It had been a long time, if ever, since I seen her cry and it was a frightening thing to hear how loud she was at it.
All right, I told her, it’s your glory. Maybe you did kill him. We wouldn’t of been there if not for you.
However, Preacher Dob said, Hush and let her cry. Get off her, and let her cry.
I done so, and she laid howling in the rocks and mud.
He said, She has had a terrible disappointment. Her whole life, she has wanted to kill the panther, and now it’s likely dead, and downriver, and taken its hide along with it, and she is left with nothing to show for her plans and none of those plans to look forward to anymore. They are washed off by the water and carried downstream. The Bible says where our treasure is, there will our heart be also. If the panther’s hide should remain our little girl’s treasure, her heart will lie under a uprooted tree, beyond the edge of all she has ever known in her life, and far out of reach of them that cares for her. We do not want that to happen. She is now called on to leave the hide behind. She is called on to walk off from this river and take nothing that she brought to it. That is a hard thing to do. I would fear for her soul if she did not shed a tear about that. Loss is a bitter pill to swallow. Them that don’t taste it are not our kind. It’s better to let her cry.
The Which Way Tree Page 19