by J P S Brown
Mikey understood from the way Viv talked that he was from a better class of Irish than Paul. His people had come from the same part of Northern Ireland as Paul's, but Paul was from shanty Irish poor people. Viv's people had never been poor.
Mikey only knew that Paul's grandparents came from Ireland, and his father was an Irishman. His mother was an Adams, sister to Roy Adams's father. Paul was Irish from his mother because her mother was a Coyle, but he was Irish and Comanche from his grandfather's side. Maggie would not listen when Paul and Roy talked about their Comanche blood.
In those days, only people as reckless and don't-give-a-damn as Paul and Roy ever admitted their Indian blood. The Sorrells never did. The Sorrells were from Ireland too, but down the line they moved West and married Cherokees. They did not admit it for 15o years. Admitting their Indian blood was something Americans who lived in Apache country did not do. How could they admit they owned the blood of the murdering enemy Apache? When other Sorrellses from Houston contacted Maggie and told her they owned head rights on the Cherokee nation, Maggie asked Grandma Melvina about it. Grandma said, "Oh, those Texans are other Sorrellses." Grandma Melvina and Maggie looked more Indian than Irish. All of Grandma Melvina's Parker family showed their Indian blood but would not admit it either. "Black Man, you savage little shit," Roy Adams once said when Mikey made a run so reckless that both his and Pancho's eyes watered. "You got to be more careful. People will be able to tell you're Comanch and find us all out."
Mikey did not like to be called an Indian, so he answered, "I'm not a Comanch, Uncle Roy. My mama says that Paul's a flannel-mouth Irishman and she's quality French and Irish."
Roy laughed. "Yeah, I'll tell that to your Granny Summers and her father the chief. I'll tell your Granny Summers's blanketass brother that he can't braid his hair anymore."
A few weeks later, Mikey was alone with Roy in the pickup behind another herd and asked, "Are you my blood kin, Uncle Roy?"
Roy Adams was as honest a man as Mikey would ever know.
He said, "Black Man, I'm your daddy's primo hermano. That means to the Mexicans that I'm a first cousin brother of your father, because my father and your daddy's mother were brother and sister. In Mexico I would be your uncle. If we lived in Boston, I'd be your second cousin."
"You're my own flesh and blood, then and we've always been family, haven't we, Uncle Roy?"
"We sure have, Black Man."
Mikey decided he'd better get one more fact cleared up about Uncle Roy. "Is it true you robbed a bank back there in Texas where you and my daddy are from?"
"Who told you that, Black Man?"
Mikey's Nina had heard it from Uncle Bill Shane, who was customs service but also Texan. Mikey was listening when Nina told Maggie. Mikey always eavesdropped when Maggie and Nina talked. Ninety percent of their private conversations were about him, anyway.
"Nobody told me. I heard my mama talking."
"Well, young sir, I hope you don't go around telling people everything your mama says."
"Did you rob a bank, Uncle Roy?"
"If I'd done anything like that, don't you think I'd have to hide?"
"Would the rangers come after you if you did?"
"They sure would. The worst kind of rangers, the damned Texis Rangers."
"I guess you would have to hide."
"You don't see me hide during the day and come out to water at night, do you?"
"No."
"Then don't worry about that and don't carry tales. Somebody might believe you and cause trouble."
"I won't."
"I mean, you sure ought not to tell that story about me robbing a bank to anyone anymore."
"I think I'd like it if you robbed a bank."
"Well, I don't want you or anybody else to believe I'm a bank robber because a robber is a criminal. If I get that reputation, I won't be able to do business in these steers, or have any fun, or anything."
"But you were a world champion calf roper, weren't you?"
"You're darned tootin' I was."
"And you won it on your old horse Clabber who is down in the pasture at the Baca Float?"
"You double-barreled darned tootin'."
"I know because I saw that picture on Aunt Helen's fireplace mantle that was taken of you when you won the world champion calf roping at Cheyenne."
"Why do you say it's Aunt Helen's fireplace? I live there, too."
"You do?"
"Of course I do. Your Aunt Helen is my wife; that's why you call her Aunt Helen."
"Well, that's not what Aunt Helen says."
Roy laughed. "What does she say?"
"She says you don't live there. Everything in that house is hers, and she's gonna sell it and move to New York because you won't bother her in New York."
"Why does she say that?"
"She said you wouldn't ever go to New York unless to rodeo in a garden and she darned sure wouldn't have a garden."
Roy really laughed at that. "No, Mikey, that rodeo in the garden she told you about is in Madison Square Garden, a big indoor arena where cowboys rodeo in the wintertime."
"Oh."
"Your Aunt Helen lied if she said she'd never go to the Garden for a rodeo. She would no more be able to stay away from a rodeo that I was in than you would be able to stay away from old Pancho."
"She sounds like she doesn't love you anymore."
"Well, she does, but she gets perturbed at me from time to time."
"She won't divorce you like Maggie divorced my dad?"
"Naw, your Aunt Helen likes to brag that she's going to divorce me so your mama won't feel so bad about divorcing your dad."
"Does Maggie feel bad about divorcing my dad?"
"I bet she does, or she wouldn't complain about him to Helen all the time."
"I wish she'd let him come home. This is getting to be too much."
Mikey believed that everybody wanted Maggie to take Paul back. Why else would she tell Mikey to ask his friends to come visit? Why did she want Mikey to hang out with Paul's cowpuncher friends? Why did she ask Mikey if he had seen his dad every time he came home from a drive?
Mikey watched for his dad. Maggie could not take him back if he never came home. Mikey looked for him in every car that carried big hats. He never knew what kind of hat to look for because Paul was hard on hats. He bought a new one to wear in town at the end of a season and wore it into complete disrepair the next season.
Mikey's world almost collapsed one day when he found out that Grover Kane went out drinking with Paul in Nogales, Sonora, the night after that first drive when Mikey rode bareback on Pancho. Not only was Grover so privileged, but also Roy, Uncle Buster, and the rest of the crew had all gone back to meet Paul in Nogales, Sonora, after the drive.
Grover had enjoyed a high old time with Paul but did not have the guts to tell Mikey about it. Mikey learned it from Manuel Valenzuela. Manuel was devoted to his family and did not go to cowboy parties across the line. Mikey decided he was glad he had bawled so long and so loud at Grover's dad's funeral.
Every once in a while somebody would come up to Mikey and say, "Well, well, look at you, Michael Paul. Boy, you sure have grown. I remember how you bawled at Jim Kane's funeral. Started bawling before the preacher got up to talk and drowned out the whole testimonial. I left early and the town was empty because everyone was in the church, but I could hear you bawl all the way out of town. Usually a body laid out for his funeral could expect to hear his mourners sing 'Red River Valley,' or 'Home on the Range,' or 'La Golondrina,' but all Jim Kane must have heard was Michael Paul Summers bawl 'til he slobbered."
Mikey was only about a year old when Jim Kane died. It seemed to Mikey that everybody who was at that funeral and some who were not even there told the same story. They all had left early and heard Mikey bawl all the way out of town. Mikey figured he must finally have been the only one left in the church to mourn because every other son of a gun left early.
Then one day, after the herd was delivered
to the Baca Float, Viv O'Brien sent Mikey home with Grover. Mikey had not talked to Grover since he found out Paul had partied with him in the Sonora bars.
"Where did you go on that parranda with my dad?" Mikey asked Grover.
"Mikey, we were in and out of every bar in Nogales, Sonora," Grover said.
"How did my dad look?"
"Like a happy cowboy."
"Did he sing songs?"
"He sang 'Panchita' and he got the mariachis to play 'Cuatro Milpas."'
Those were Paul's favorite songs, those and "La Potranca."
"What other songs?"
"He had them play 'La Potranca' three or four times."
Paul's betrayal of his family was true, then. Maggie was La Potranca to everybody in Santa Cruz County. So Paul Summers was now so lowdown that he could spend Maggie's support money on mariachis and bawl out her song in the gutter, but he could not spare an hour to visit his family. Paul's favorite father-like statement to Mikey was, "I've never let you down, son. That's one thing I'll never do."
"Who else was there?" Mikey asked.
When Grover answered, every name that fell out of his mouth became Mikey's enemy for life. He would make his uncles sorry they thought they could run and play with Paul Summers and keep him away from his family.
Then one day, after the herd was delivered at the Baca Float, Roy Adams dropped Mikey and his outfit off at his house and Viv's car was in Maggie's driveway. Viv came out the back door when Mikey laid an armload of his gear on the stoop. Mikey went back to the highway to carry in the rest of his outfit and Viv went with him to help. He said he admired Mikey's bed and saddle, chaps and spurs, but advised him to get rid of that reata and tie a manila rope hard and fast to his saddle horn to save his fingers. Mikey had never roped with anything but a reata.
Viv said Maggie and Maudy had gone away to take Bica across the line to visit her folks. Granny had gone to town to play the slot machine at the Elks Lodge. Viv helped Mikey stow his outfit on the back porch, then dished him up a bowl of albóndigas from a pot on the stove. He could not be still. After Mikey was finished eating, he asked him to come into the front room to talk.
Viv sat down and opened his arms to give Mikey a hug and then just sat him on his knee. Mikey was not used to that. Not that he did not like Viv's show of affection, but the man ordinarily kept Mikey at arm's length and the boy was not one to sit on anyone's knee. He did not remember ever sitting on anyone's knee except Nina's. He had been known to sit on his Nina's lap because there was just no denying her when she decided to give affection. She was a lavisher, a splasher-on of love, a grabbing hugger and a smoochy kisser with plenty of wet, but Mikey was not a sitter for anybody else's knee. He decided he could remain there a moment for Viv, but he did not like it.
"Michael Paul, you and I have become good friends, don't you think?" Viv asked.
Well, that could be true, so Mikey said yes.
"And of course you know that I love your little sister as though she was my own child."
Mikey looked way off.
"Because of that and because your mother and I care a whole lot for one another, well, son, we drove to Lordsburg last week and got married."
All Mikey understood from this was that Viv would not be one to help Maggie and Paul get back together, after all. Viv had not been coming around to help Paul. Instead, Mikey would have to live with this man and that would make it hard for him to see his dad. Viv was as different from Paul as a draft horse was from a bronky cowhorse, as different as any cattleman, businessman, trader, or speculator was from a reckless cowboy who did not care about anything in God's world except how he could use his life to see if it would come apart.
Mikey did not think Paul did right with his life, but he wanted to grow up to be a Paul Summers with the styles of Roy Adams, Buster Sorrells, and Viv O'Brien all thrown in. One of the qualities he liked about Viv was that he could show open admiration for another man like Paul who was so different from him. Another of his good traits was that he was a high-dollar speculator on cattle, but he also was compassionate with the thousands of animals under his charge, and he did not skimp on their care. He was not one to pet his horses or give names to his cows, but he made sure animals did not know cruelty after he became their owner. However, he wasn't don't-give-a-damn enough for Mikey.
Mikey kept a seat on Viv O'Brien's knee, but this was too much of a difference in the way the man usually treated him for him to like it as, he guessed, he was supposed to like it. Mikey knew Viv's real love was for Maudy. He had never shown that he loved Maggie enough to want to marry her. He did not hold Maggie on his knee, so that knee was the last place on earth Mikey thought he should be.
Then the man said, "Mikey, you need a father and I need a son, so from now on I'm going to be your dad."
Mikey stepped down off the knee and faced him.
"No, you're not," he said. "Paul Summers is my dad."
A kind of tender, hopeful light went out of Viv O'Brien's eye and never came back for Mikey again.
TEN
EXILE
When a cowman ships the yearly increase of his cattle, he feels relief that the load on the feed in his pastures has been lightened, a crop has been harvested, and his herd and family have been preserved. Even so, he hates to see his charges go. He has taken care of them for a lot more than the money. When the loaded trucks leave his pens, he almost always takes one more look to see if he can recognize a face in the bunch and wish it good-bye.
The decision to send Mikey to Saint Michael's College in Santa Fe was made long before he ever heard of the place. He thought he would go back to Lincoln School. A week before classes started at Lincoln, Maggie drove him to Nogales in Viv's new blue car and bought him school clothes.
Mikey wondered at the quantity and quality of the clothes. For Lincoln School, he never started the year with more than one new pair of Levi's, one pair of corduroys, three dress shirts, one sweater, one pair of everyday shoes, and a jacket. This time, Maggie bought him a half dozen of almost everything plus a warm cap, mittens, earmuffs, towels, washrags, toilet articles, two neckties, and a three-piece suit. The earmuffs gave off a highly expensive new smell that made Mikey think that Fast Paul's family had sure found prosperous new management.
Mikey and Maggie returned home with two new suitcases full of clothes. The suitcases were not explained, but Mikey knew that things like that were used to ship people away from home. He got real quiet, could not look at Maggie or speak to her, and began to look at everything else as though it might be for the last time. He had been condemned and he did not know why he deserved it. He tried on all the new clothes to be sure they fit and did not let himself wonder why Maggie folded them and put them back in the suitcases. He went outside and climbed up on the fence to sit with Pancho at the corner post. Granny opened her back door and gave him a solicitous look. Maggie asked Granny if she wanted to come over and see Mikey's new clothes and luggage.
"No, I won't go over there, for I don't want my grandson to think that I've had a part in your dirty tricks," Granny said. "I bet you still haven't told him what you plan to do with him."
Maggie glanced quickly at Mikey to see if he understood, but Mikey looked away and pretended that he had not heard his Granny. Saint Michael's had been mentioned plenty during the past few days, but only as a place of exile. Maggie had used Saint Michael's as a threat to keep him in line, but he did not want to believe that she truly meant to send him there. He stayed in line to be sure that she knew he did not want to be sent away, but now he felt that he would have to go anyway. He asked himself how Maggie could do something that would make him realize his worst fear. He had not been surprised when she threatened him with Saint Michael's because she was always mean enough to make big threats and knew how much he feared being sent away. Could she send him clear out of sight as she had done Paul for being a drunk? No .... Yes, the suitcases and new clothes were proof that she was mean enough for that.
When Mikey re
alized that he would probably be sent up to Saint Michael's he decided to pull off the one great stunt that he and Billy had always wanted to pull: to plummet out of the
alamo and swing over the highway and terrorize an enemy so badly he would wreck his car. He and Billy had imagined ways to perform the stunt but had been thwarted by its magnitude. Mikey would have to do it now, or it would probably never be done. Since he had lost Viv's friendship and backing, his whole world might be lost.
Before he died, Billy had confided to Mikey that he wanted to get even with one person by scaring him so badly he would have a wreck. Mr. Karns who owned and managed the Karns Swimming Pool had banned Billy for life for running recklessly on the wet cement that surrounded the pool and for bouncing on the high diving board in a suicidal manner. Mr. Karns also owned an orchard only a quarter mile down the road from Billy's house. He visited his orchard every evening at five o'clock and he sicced his dogs on Billy every time he came near the ripening fruit in his trees. Mr. Karns sicced the dogs on Mikey, too, but Mikey did not hold it against him. Billy had hated Mr. Karns so much he wanted to scare him into having a stroke or heart attack. Billy had thought if he swooped down out of a tree on him as he drove peacefully down the road, he might at least crystallize him so he would lose control of his car.
Mikey decided that as the surviving daredevil he was honor-bound to perform his and Billy's dream stunt on Mr. Karns. In order for the stunt to work, Mikey needed to tie the swing rope to a slender limb fifty feet above the highway. For Mr. Karns to suffer substantial fright, he would have to come driving down the highway with his thoughts on the sweet fruits of his orchard and all of a sudden look up and see Mikey fall from a great height straight into his face.
On the day after Maggie bought Mikey the two suitcases and extra school clothes, at about four thirty in the afternoon, he climbed with the end of the rope to the highest branch that would hold him. He had rehearsed the details of the stunt in his mind but had not imagined the awful height and distance he would have to command. The branch from which he needed to tie his grandfather's manila rope was only as big around as his arm. The rope was forty feet long and its end dangled ten feet above the ground. He hauled up the rope and tied a knot in the bottom end. He held it and climbed down to a limb in the center of the tree, sat down, and looked at the several feet of slack on the end and waited for the nerve to do the stunt. He and Billy had thought about using this starting point before, but it was so high and in a part of the tree so unknown that they had both been afraid to try it.