He going to be okay?
I think so. The woman helps Jack Brown sit up. He just can't breathe is all.
Elray asks for their names and an explanation of the dispute. Hers is Rebecca Cisneros, friends called her Becca. Long black hair like a show horse's mane and high cheekbones. She's the kind of woman who could be the mother of beautiful children or the teller of a First National Bank. Or end up broadcast on the Internet in a sex video shot in a no- tell motel like the Buffalo Head Inn, with bad lighting, shag carpet, a painting of elk and pines on the wall, and beneath her naked skin an ugly bedspread.
When he can talk Jack Brown says, My name is Smith. He stares at Becca as he says this.
Smith? Elray repeats. First name?
William. That's right. A vein pulses down the middle of Brown's pale forehead, and at each breath he grimaces. I'm guessing you've probably heard my name before.
Elray looks him straight in the eyes and does not blink. Sounds like an alias.
I'll get a lawyer, Brown says. Once this gets settled, you'll be sorry.
Elray has been holding the pepper- spray can at the ready, like it's an aerosol quick- draw contest. He tucks it back into a belt loop and says, Now I'm scared.
Jack Brown keeps wheezing. Yeah, well, you should be.
Becca wears the queasy smile of a woman who has swallowed a diamond ring worth twenty thousand dollars and now realizes the only way to retrieved it will be slow, painful, and unpleasant. Most likely the only witness to its egress will be herself, in her mind the rightful owner of the pricey bijou and symbol of undying eternal affection.
Elray adjusts his hat and looks at the two of them. I tell you what. I hate domestics, you know? I don't like to get in the middle of other people's disagreements. Can we end this here?
He's not getting that ring, says Becca. Not now. Not a week, month, or year from now.
Forget it, says Brown. His face is blotchy and eyes bloodshot. He smooths his bushy hair with one hand. I can buy another one, he adds. And get another sweetheart. Same difference.
Let's hold off the insults, okay? says Elray.
Can I leave? Without you pulling a gun and plugging me in the back?
Go, says Elray. It will be my pleasure.
Brown walks away, wearing the look of a man who has lost a battle but is planning a war. The stairwell shudders under his boots and the weight of his body bounding down the steps. He goes to the parking lot and picks up his cap, brushes it off. Moments later a Jeep wheels out of the parking lot, squealing as it takes a right on the avenue.
You know how to make friends, don't you? says Becca.
I suppose, says Elray. He shrugs. Funny how people obey if you have them by the throat.
Becca touches his arm and tells him she appreciates his help, his standing up for her like that. She explains that Jack Brown gave him a fake name. You can't trust him. He gave me this engagement ring and then demanded it back. I said no way, she says. Then he got all huffy about it, insisted it was worth twenty thousand dollars.
Elray puts away his notebook. You're better off not married to any man who would ask for the ring back, what I'm thinking. You deserve better than that.
Becca smiles. You're sweet. Can I tell you a secret?
Does it involve lawbreaking?
She looks at him funny for a moment, wiggling her mouth and jaw, then reaches inside her lips with her fingertips. Bingo, she says and holds the diamond ring up in the air.
Elray grins. You're no dummy.
That's the truth. Problem is, Jack is. Just enough of a dummy not to let it go. I'm here hiding from him, but he found me. He's like a bloodhound. Dim and determined.
So what is this outlaw's real name?
I'll tell you on one condition. You interested in some dinner? I could fix us something. I'm not always involved in such seedy scenes, you know. Most of the time I'm downright civic- minded. I vote and pay taxes.
You don't, he says.
I do. She smiles. And I make a good plate of fried chicken. Sound good?
Elray says it does and he'll be glad to accept. They agree he'll show up later, after nine.
She gives him a kiss on the cheek and he feels the softness of her lips, smells her skin when she leans in close.
I'm looking forward to it, she says. You probably got the wrong idea about me earlier.
You're better off without that loser.
She nods and tucks her hands in her back pockets. I am.
Elray is love- headed on his way out the door, stifling a foolish grin, waving good- bye to her as she stands in the aura of the doorway. Half a mind to double back and ask if he can take her out somewhere nice. But then again, hard to refuse a woman who offers to cook for you. He keeps walking, his mind full of her smell and her softness. He moves on into the early evening, the sky a pure violet overhead, toward his horse, forgetful and enchanted, passing light- headed down the motel breezeway, down the stairs.
He's a mile toward home, sitting a bit chilled in the saddle, holding Apache's reins, when he realizes he's forgotten to get the real name of her abuser.
A f t e r t h e d o o r c l o s e s Becca feels herself deflate. A depressing quiet settles like the hush of bad news. Her smile fades as she moves through the room, tuning the TV to the Weather Channel, pouring herself a glass of water. She's ashamed and realizes her engagement was nothing more than a pause at the intersection of Hope and Desperation. Forget marriage. She knows the reality likely will be her standing alone in line at a convenience store, trying to corral a two- year- old, buying tampons and a pack of Marlboro Lights.
She goes to brush her teeth and stares at her reflection in the mirror. A trace of wrinkles around her mouth and eyes and oh God she's thirty- one years old and getting older by the second.
Out the open window she can hear a couple arguing in the alley. She rinses her teeth and stares at the diamond ring on the counter beside her moisturizer and makeup. From the window she can hear a truck's loud engine throbbing and a burst of drunken laughter.
She rummages through her makeup kit and comes up with a small vinyl coin purse with the logo and address of First National Bank of Pueblo on it. She wads the engagement ring in several sheets of Kleenex until it's a puffy square, then wedges this inside the coin purse and squeezes it to make sure it fits securely.
With her palms sweating, Becca heads to the lobby. There the buffalo head looms over a sofa with cow- horn armrests. Before the sofa there's a coffee table covered with magazines and to the left a small table with a coffee pot, microwave, and creamer, sugar packets, and stir sticks.
Becca pours coffee into a white Styrofoam cup, facing the check- in counter, watching. She takes the coin purse from her pocket and crams it into the buffalo's mouth. She pushes it until she hears a woman talking on a phone, walking up to the front counter.
You need something, honey?
Becca wipes her hands on her jeans. No, I'm fine, she says. I was just looking for a magazine to read.
You want some company? They make a mean margarita in the lounge next door. Aside from the losers and degenerates, it's not half bad. They got free peanuts and pretzels too.
Becca smiles. I'll keep that in mind.
On the way back to her room, she stops at the soft- drink
vending machine, feeds a dollar into the metal mouth, her heart still beating wildly. She's reaching for a Pepsi can when a van pulls to a stop nearby and two goons step out, followed by Jack Brown, looking sheepish, calling out, Hey, Becca. We need to talk.
We don't need anything, she says, hurrying toward the stairs. Before she can reach them one of the goons clamps a hand over her mouth, dragging her backward. Becca's Pepsi can drops to the ground and fizzes. She flails as he pins her arms and the other goon grabs her feet. A car honks as she twists and squirms, shouting, until they slap a piece of duct tape over her mouth. Jack Brown follows behind, saying, Hey, go easy on her. She's my girlfriend. Or used to be.
The van is al
ready moving before Jack is ready, and he has to run across the parking lot to hop inside, whatever he started already in motion and out of control.
Pa r t Tw o
Look out the window. And doesn't this remind you of when you were in the boat? And then later that night, you were lying, looking up at the ceiling, and the water in your head was not dissimilar from the landscape, and you think to
yourself, "Why is it that the landscape is moving, but the boat is still?"
—Jim Jarmusch, Dead Man
The Painted Cliff Face
A h a r r i e d n u r s e a t t h e h o s p i t a l info booth tells officer James only immediate family members are authorized to visit the young woman. Elray explains who he is, how he found her in the manger.
When I called before I came, nobody said family only. I mean, if the rules could be bent and not broken, I'd appreciate it.
Go on, says the nurse. I see why you'd be caring to know how she is.
Could you tell me the name?
What name?
The girl. The sick girl.
Ruby Elizabeth Cole. Seventeen years old and a mother already. The young nurse in the info booth leans forward and whispers, Her father's a war vet, and a preacher to boot.
Elray wanders confused down several hallways before he finds Ruby Cole. Her room is small and cramped, with two folding chairs at the foot of the bed and barely enough room to cough without hitting your head on the ceiling.
In bed Ruby resembles a sick mermaid, her hair wet and bedraggled on the pillow, tendrils tangled and wave- tossed, breathing ragged, eyelids purple, nose pink. Her face looks cat- scratched, lips blushed and swollen. Elray watches the blue veins in her neck, the slight hollow of skin in the center of her collarbone. An IV stand holds liquids in clear plastic pouches, tubes from them to her arms. She's also hooked up to a monitoring contraption, a video screen that shows her vitals.
In the pale room, with its tiled floor and simple white walls, a single window presents a view of white sky and mountain silhouettes in the distance. Time seems to contract and withdraw, like an old- fashioned film in which the bright scene of the film's action— say, a farm in winter— appears in a circle surrounded by the blackest darkness until it contracts and all that's left is the mane of a horse, snow falling on a barn, a pitchfork upright in a hay bale.
Elray can't keep his eyes open. He dreams he's trying to swim but has no legs. He awakens with a crick in his neck. A nurse is checking the girl's pulse. She smiles at him and says he's a good man to watch over the girl. They're calling her the Miracle Girl, one of the few to recover from the fever after reaching stage three. They say she's blessed. Some visitors have even come to touch her, as if she possesses the healing powers of a saint.
Elray puts his hat in his lap and sits up. I only wanted to make sure she was okay. Looks like she's in good hands.
Ruby opens her eyes and blinks. She looks at Elray for a long
moment, turns her head to the window and stares, reaches up to rub her face.
Well, look what the cat drug in, says the nurse.
Come again?
You're waking up, she says.
Ruby's bone- white face cringes. Where am I? Where's my baby?
The nurse tucks her sheets and straightens her IV attachment. Your family has your baby girl. She's doing fine. Don't you worry.
My family?
Your father is coming to visit. He can tell you everything.
Her eyes pink with tears. Does he have Lila?
Honey, now you just hush and don't worry.
I want my baby.
Elray stands to leave, cowboy hat in his hands. I hope you're feeling better, he says. I was the one picked you up.
Ruby rubs her face. I don't remember.
He nods. Maybe that's good. They say your heart quit beating.
She smiles weakly. People say all kinds of things.
That they do.
I guess you saved my life, then.
It's my job.
Saving people's lives?
He shrugs. Well, mostly I give parking tickets. The occasional drunk and disorderly.
Why are you here?
He picks at the brim of his hat. To see how you're doing.
Ruby's expression stiffens. She stares out the window. Behind him Elray feels a looming. He turns to find a tall, bearded man staring at him with a biblical squint and glower, standing too close. Elray can practically feel his body heat. He smells of wood smoke and soil, the reek of a farmer or a field worker. Elray extends his hand and offers his name.
Lord God does not accept the gesture. He's a good four inches taller than Elray and uses his height to bend him to his will. When he speaks his voice is hoarse and slow.
You know who I am?
I'm guessing you're Mr. Cole, Ruby's father?
Lord God only blinks and strokes his beard. I'm the man who fought for your freedom. I'm the man who went to war so you can eat your fried chicken and drink your beer. You look like a chicken- and- beer man to me.
I wouldn't turn it down, says Elray.
Tacos, too. Tamales. Lord God makes an exaggerated sniffing motion, like a hound trying to catch the trail of an outlaw. Perhaps the occasional enchilada with a margarita chaser.
I do like Mexican food. On the occasion of every chance I get.
It's written all over your face. That lazy hunger. A well- fed man is most likely a criminal, is what I believe. And if his fingers be slick with pork grease from tamales, he's most likely in league with the illegals. Taking payola is what I guess. And it's for you I fought in the desert overseas. For you and your ilk.
Elray wrinkles his brow. And we thank you kindly?
Do you see this leg? Cole lifts his pants leg to reveal his
prosthetic limb. I had my leg blown off, my eye put out. The Muslims put a bomb in the road as a welcome mat. All for my efforts to improve their world.
Elray believes that it's a mistake to occupy a foreign country and expect its people to welcome you with hugs and kisses, especially as a Christian man carrying weapons in a country that worships Allah. He looks at John Wesley Cole's leg and says, It looks to be they have you fixed right up.
Cole nods, his squint tightening. Is that what you call it? Fixed? I got one leg is what I got.
I should be going, says Elray. I was just here to hope she was feeling better.
Not so fast, Officer, says Cole. Let me ask you something. Am I right to assume you did not serve in the military?
Not me. Elray shakes his head.
And can you tell me why?
I guess I didn't think it was the right thing to do.
You guess.
An expression. I didn't join. Let's leave it at that.
You are an officer of the law, says Cole. I see this and I will give it what it's due. But please could you tell me what my daughter's hospital room has to do with any crime or criminal behavior?
He pauses. No one moves. The nurse has disappeared. Cole breathes loudly through his nose, as if Elray were an annoyance and he a giant. I was under the impression that she was to see direct family members only, he adds.
Elray tells who he is, what he's done. How he found her in the manger, cold and sick in the snow. I just wanted to make sure she was okay. I heard she was better.
She's been here long enough, says her father. I'm taking her home. We thank you for your concern and ask that you now move your concern to other, more dangerous citizens of this county.
Daddy, where's Lila?
I got the Johnson woman down the road to come babysit for a few hours. She'll be fine.
Ruby glances at Elray and says, He didn't mean anything—
My daughter needs to dress and prepare herself. In the interests of modesty, you best be leaving.
Elray nods and backs away, bumping into the nurse.
She shoos both of them and tells Ruby's father to leave her be. She says Ruby can't be moved yet. This young lady is still running a fever,
says the nurse. Plus the virus might still be contagious. She is not ready to be released. No way nohow.
Nonsense, says Cole. We'll care for her. She'll recover with her family, where she should be in the first place.
I'm going to get the physician in charge.
Do what you want. As will I. I'm her father and she does what I say.
Elray steps closer to Ruby, watching her face. I think the nurse is right, he says. She should stay a couple more days, till the fever's gone.
The Bird Saviors Page 5