by Sam Torode
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As I ate my biscuits, Sarah stared out the window. I wondered what she was thinking. In the light of day, maybe she’d forgotten all about that silly curse—after all, I hadn’t died. Maybe I’d broken the bad-luck streak.
I remembered the heft of Father’s satchel in my hand. There were a lot of coins in the bottom, but they wouldn’t add up to much. More importantly, it was stuffed full of bills—rolls and rolls of them, it felt like.
Would I bring it back to Remus? As much as I wanted to keep it all to myself, it was Father’s money. And as much as I disagreed with his religious notions, I couldn’t bear the thought of him and Mama dying in the poorhouse. It wouldn’t be a total loss—surely, he’d reward me for my labors. And with a cut of the money—just enough to buy a little shack—Sarah and I could start a new life together. If only I could convince her that she wasn’t cursed.
Sarah stood up and walked over to the bed. Her eyes were red and puffy. “Tobias,” she said, “I’ve been thinking it over.” I motioned for her to sit down, but she didn’t budge. “I’ve decided that I can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous for you.” She looked away. “It’s time to say goodbye.”
“But Sarah—” I propped myself up on my elbows. “I’m still alive. And better than that—I found it.”
She looked confused. “Found what?”
“There are some things I haven’t told you. Things I haven’t told anybody—not even Craw.”
She crossed her arms and waited for an explanation.
“When my father left here twenty years ago, he left a stash of money—a lot of money—in the bottom of a dry well. Right now, my father’s in trouble. That’s why he sent me to Texas. And last night, I found it. I held it in my hands, right before I passed out.”
Sarah sniffed back her runny nose. “Toby, you’re not thinking straight. You hit your head and—.”
“I’m thinking perfectly straight. Everything’s coming together, and it’s all because of you. I couldn’t find it on my own, but you led me to it.”
She put her hand on the doorknob. “I—I can’t stay.”
“Don’t you see it?” I slid my legs off the bed and struggled to sit up. “You’re not cursed—you’re a regular good luck charm. It wasn’t the easiest way of finding the money, but that’s my fault—I should have told you sooner. Should have asked for your help.”
“Stay away from me, Toby.” She cracked open the door. “Or something will happen. Another accident. He won’t give up. As long as I’m near you, he’ll keep after you.”
“He? Who’s he?”
Sarah let go of the door, wiped her face, and took a deep breath. “The day I was born, my great-grandmother prayed something over me—an incantation. A spell for an Indian spirit to watch over me.”
“Like a guardian angel?”
“Sort of.” She came closer. “Only he’s not much of an angel. More like a demon. He never gave me any trouble till a couple years ago, when boys started coming around. He’s jealous, I think, and when any boy comes too close—”
“You can’t really believe this,” I said. “Uncle Will said those boys got in accidents, plain and simple.”
“It always looks like an accident—just like you falling. But somehow, he makes it happen, I know it.”
“How—you’ve seen him?”
“A few times, starting from when I was a child. Usually at night.”
“It’s easy to imagine things in the dark—I do it myself. Moonlight plays tricks on you.”
“He’s an Indian warrior. Strong and very tall—maybe seven feet.”
A chill went up my spine. “With a face like wax?”
Sarah looked me straight in the eye. “You’ve seen him, too. I knew it.”
“No, no—of course not. Aunt Millie said something about Indians and then I had a nightmare. Mental suggestion, that’s all. There’s no such thing as spooks, or angels, or demons.”
She stiffened. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have known you wouldn’t believe.”
“Darn right I don’t believe. And if you help me get my father’s money, you’ll stop believing that nonsense, too.”
“I don’t want any damn money. All I want is for you to live.”
That pushed me over the edge of exasperation. Everything depended on the money—and she was blowing our chance. “And you think I’m talking like I hit my head? Stop being such a superstitious ninny.”
“You stay away from me, Tobias Henry.” For the second day in a row, Sarah turned and ran. This time, I didn’t try to follow.
CHAPTER 28
AFTER Sarah left, I licked the blood from my lip and thought about how attraction is like a rose. It springs up from fertile, manure-rich soil; it blooms for a day, giving off an intoxicating scent; and then it wilts, rots, and festers on the shit pile of life. As my father might have said, all things come from shit; all things return to shit—except he would have used the word “dust.”
A knock at the door shook me from my melancholy musings. It had the unmistakable ring of Craw’s hook. He removed his hat, scratched his bald head, and awkwardly stepped into the room. “Tobias, my boy, I’ve come to say goodbye.”
I dropped my head on the pillow—stunned again. This was turning out to be a bad day for goodbyes.
“My work here is done,” he said, “and the road beckons onward.”
I raised my head. “But the fence—”
“Son, if I stayed on till that damn fence was up, they’d bury me inside it. The cattle would graze on my grave. That’s the last thing I need—a bunch of bullshit on my tombstone.” He glanced up at the ceiling. “Then again, that might be appropriate.”
Then I remembered the money. If Sarah wouldn’t help me get it, maybe Craw would. “Wait a minute,” I said. “Would you stay for five hundred dollars?”
Craw stopped, scratched his chin, then waved his hand. “I’m a hobo, son. If I had that kind of money, I’d lose my position in life.”
I sat up and planted my bare feet on the floor. “Well, if you’re going, I’m going with you.”
He chuckled. “Boy, you could barely jump a freight with two good legs.”
I looked down at my bruised and swollen legs, with Craw’s poultice still around my ankle. “I’ll get that money I told you about—I’ll buy us both tickets. How’d you like to ride first-class?”
Craw glanced around the room. “What about Sarah? Where is she?”
I put my hand on the night stand and hoisted myself up. “She’s gone,” I said. “Ran off crying, and she never wants to see me again.”
Craw sat down and shook his head. “My boy, my boy. I never thought you the type.”
“What type?”
“The type to run out on a girl. Now, I’m the type to run out on a girl. But you—?”
“Look.” I took a careful step forward, still balancing myself against the night stand. “I’m not running anywhere—she left me.”
“If you let her go without a fight, it’s all the same.”
I sighed and lowered myself back onto the bed. Craw deserved an explanation, and if he was leaving, this was my only chance. “Listen,” I said. “The problem is, she believes that she’s cursed.”
Craw snapped to attention. “Cursed?”
“Haunted by the ghost of a seven-foot tall Indian warrior. And she honestly believes he’s going to kill me—that’s why she ran away.”
“Damn,” he said. “This is worse than I suspected.”
“You’re telling me—it’s plumb insane.”
He waved his hook. “Sarah, insane? Not a chance.”
Maybe Craw was missing something. I spelled it out slowly—“An Indian spook. Seven feet tall. Kills people. Now, do you believe that?”
“Why wouldn’t I? She’s an honest girl. And as sure as there are good spirits to guide us, there are dark spirits to block our path. They can annoy, oppress—and sometimes even possess a body. Sarah’s sounds like a particularl
y pesky bugger.”
“You’re both crazy.”
“Nothing crazy about it,” Craw said. “Sarah says she’s plagued by an evil spirit, three boys have died, and you almost shared their fate. If I were you, I’d damn well listen to that girl.”
The scary thing was, it almost made sense—and I couldn’t shake the image of that Indian in my dream. I turned away. “It’s all superstition. I don’t believe any of it.”
Craw shot me a glare. “What do you believe in?”
“I don’t know. Only what I can see, I guess. And touch.” I rapped my knuckles on the night stand. “The cold, hard truth.”
He sat down beside me. “Tobias, my boy, there are greater things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy. If all that exists is only what you can see, you live in a pretty small universe.”
“At least it’s real, and not some dream world.”
“Real? Only a speck of reality comes to us through our eyes. Shit—things we can’t see are the only things that make life worth living.”
“Like what?”
Craw hopped up and paced the floor, thinking. “Beauty. Poetry. Friendship. Joy. Love.” He stopped and looked at me. “You can’t see any of that. Can’t touch it. Can’t stick it under a microscope. Can’t prove it.”
“Maybe it isn’t real, then. Did you ever consider that? Maybe it’s all in your head.”
He crossed his arms. “You don’t believe in love?”
I looked at the door, wishing I could leave. “Talk about love all you want. From what I’ve seen, it’s just selfishness in disguise.”
Craw stamped his foot on the floor. “I’ll tell you what love is. Sarah risking her neck to bring you up out of that well—that’s love. And if that ain’t real, I don’t know what is.”
“Sarah said that you pulled me out.”
“With what—a fishing pole?”
I shrugged. I hadn’t even thought about how I was rescued.
“After you fell, Sarah ran to the shed. She grabbed a rope—and me. When we got to the well, she had me hold the rope while she shimmied down. Then she tied the other end to your waist and held you the whole way, while I pulled the both of you out.” He looked me in the eye. “Does that sound like selfishness in disguise?”
I squirmed under my sheet. Craw had saved my life in St. Louis, and now Sarah had done the same—neither of them expecting anything in return. Sarah’s words echoed in my mind: “All I want is for you to live.” Could I say the same for her, or was I just out for myself? Even if the curse was a fake, I shouldn’t have called her crazy. But what could I do?
“I wish I could help her,” I said. “But I don’t know how. How can you love a girl that’s haunted?”
Craw put his hand on my shoulder. “Tobias my boy, they’re all haunted. There isn’t a woman alive who doesn’t have a demon of one sort or another.”
I looked up. “How’s that?”
“Remember your fairy tales—all those stories about princesses held captive by dragons? They tell the truth. Deep inside, every woman is a princess. And every princess has a dragon.”
“First you want me to believe in demons—and now dragons?”
“Stop thinking like a damn Baptist. It’s a myth, boy. And the point is, every woman is a vessel of beauty, life, and love—though most don’t know it. And all the forces of evil in the world are dead-set against her. That’s why loving a woman is the hardest battle you’ll ever face. Love isn’t going to fall into your lap—you’ve got to fight for it.”
“You sure don’t make it sound very fun,” I said.
“It isn’t—not all the time. A women cries. She gets moody. Once a month, she bleeds out of her privates. Then you get her pregnant and—by damn, now you’re really in a fix. You think fighting a dragon sounds rough? Try holding the hand of a woman in childbirth.”
I began to see what he was getting at. Committing myself to Sarah—for better or worse, sickness or health, rich or poor—would be hard. I enjoyed being alone. I was comfortable looking out for myself and keeping a skeptical distance from everyone else. For me, even wallowing in self-pity had a certain pleasure. Maybe I was relieved—even glad—when Sarah ran out that door, because it was back to life as usual. The idea of getting mixed up with an unpredictable female scared me more than the thought that Sarah might really be cursed.
“If it’s so hard,” I asked, “is it even worth it?”
“That’s for you to decide.” Craw turned and looked out the window. “For most of my life, I didn’t think it was. My head was full of questions, like yours. And now that I’m finally getting close to the answers, I’m too damn old to do anything about it.”
It finally sank in—any other girl would be as much of a challenge in her own way. But I had never met another girl like Sarah. My choice was clear: find Sarah and face her demon—whether real or imagined—or spend the rest of my life jerking off to French postcards.
I pointed to the closet. “Throw me that pair of pants, please. And a shirt. I can’t go fighting demons in my underwear.”
“Or unarmed, either.” He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a string—a necklace of some sort. At the end was a small bundle of red cloth. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a few tricks in my arsenal—or at least up my arse.”
“What is it?”
“A charm—a talisman to ward off evil powers.”
When he waved it in front of my nose, I knew right away what the bundle contained. “Fish guts?”
“Catfish heart, to be precise. I told you it would come in handy. Nothing kicks the ass of evil like a catfish heart—it’s an old Indian secret. Why, one whiff of this could repel Satan himself.”
“I can see why.” As ridiculous as it seemed, I bowed my head and let Craw tie the string around my neck. He’d been right one too many times. Even if it was a sham, it made sense to use an Indian charm to fight an Indian curse. At the very least, it might dispel Sarah’s fears. That would be miracle enough for me.
With the talisman in place, Craw placed his hand on my head in a ceremonial gesture. Instead of saying a prayer, he recited a poem:
I have read, in some old marvelous tale
Some legend strange and vague,
That a midnight host of spectres pale
Beleaguered the walls of Prague.
Beside the Moldau’s rushing stream,
With the wan moon overhead,
There stood, as in an awful dream,
The army of the dead.
White as a sea-fog, landward bound,
The spectral camp was seen,
And, with a sorrowful, deep sound,
The river flowed between.
The hairs on the back of my neck tingled. The river—that’s where Sarah would be.
But when the old cathedral bell
Proclaimed the morning prayer,
The white pavilions rose and fell
On the alarmed air.
Down the valley fast and far
The troubled army fled;
Up rose the glorious morning star,
The ghastly host was dead.
At the final stanza, Craw’s voice swelled like the ringing cathedral bell itself. I gripped the talisman to my chest.
I buttoned my shirt and slid my legs into the pants one inch at a time, rough denim scraping against raw skin. Craw slapped my back. “I’m proud of you, son.”
I snapped on the Lone Star belt buckle he’d given me. “Time to slay a demon.”
“Almost forgot,” he said. “The demon’s only the first challenge—I haven’t told you what to do once you get the girl’s clothes off.”
“Don’t worry—I’m a fast learner.”
CHAPTER 29
FOR the first time since Easter, I snuck out of the house, grabbed a fishing pole, and headed to the water. Only this time, I was after bigger game than bluegills.
I limped across the yard, dragging my left leg over the dirt. My body ached with each step, but
the pain was exhilarating when I thought of Sarah. I even relished the sun searing my neck. What’s a knight’s quest without hardship? Everything good requires sacrifice.
Past the tall cedars, I slid down the bank towards the river. At the water, I bent down and washed the dried blood off my face. I hardly recognized my own reflection—cheeks swollen, arms cut and bruised, shirt soaked with sweat, pants caked with mud. I looked like I’d been wrestling alligators, not trying to win a girl’s heart. But if Craw was right, they were about the same thing.
Rounding the bend, I spotted her on the limestone ledge, sitting with her arms around her knees, holding the rosary Craw had given her. When I called her name, she gasped. “Toby—what the hell are you doing?”
I held up the pole. “A little fishing.”
She dropped the rosary and scurried backwards like a crab. “I told you to stay away.”
“I came to say I’m sorry.” I stopped at the edge of the rock—it was too high for me to climb up. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass. I should have listened.”
“You still don’t believe me,” she said. “If you believed, you wouldn’t have come here.”
“I don’t know what I believe. But I trust you.”
She looked out at the water. “If you trust me, then go home.”
“I won’t let you go. Sarah, I’m here to fight for you.” I wrapped my fingers around the talisman. If it radiated any power at all, I needed it now.
“He’ll kill you.”
“Not with this.” I took off the talisman and held it up. “Craw gave it to me—it’s a charm to repel evil spirits.”
Sarah came closer and eyed the red bundle. “It won’t work.”
I passed it up to her. “There’s a catfish heart inside—it’s an old Indian secret.”
She took one sniff and pinched her nose. “You’ve got to be kidding. If you think I’m going to wear this—”
“It’s for me to wear,” I said. “Please—you’ve got to trust me.”