She said she’d like to come back with me
We drove home eating burgers and fries and drinking chocolate malts. She’s been here ever since. Took to the place like a duck to water.
She likes the horses and has a nice rapport with them. Likes to curry them and feed them treats. She rides them too, but only near the house. She won’t go off the hill. And you wouldn’t think a woman that small could get a saddle on a horse, but she can.”
“Did she ever tell you more about how she came to be in Baker that night?”
“No, she hasn’t. And she’s made it pretty clear she doesn’t want to.
But I’m glad to have her on the place. She’s smart, she’s good company, and she seems inclined to stay a while. You know, it’s been lonely in that big house since Father died.
So, that’s what the supplies are for. I’m going to build a little addition onto the house for her. Place where she can have a sitting room to read and so forth.
You know, Ade, unlike people in town, people out this way don’t gossip much. They pretty much respect each other’s privacy, although they’re quick enough to help others if asked.
Still and all, I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. I put her stuff in my bedroom and moved my stuff into my dad’s. It’s sat empty ever since he died.
But I think having her own room, a room made just for her, puts a different stamp on it for everyone. And I think she’ll like it.”
I realized this was no casual matter for Mr. Stonebridge.
“You think she’s going to stay?”
“Would be fine with me if she did, but it’s hard for me to imagine a young woman staying out here for too long, especially with just me and the hands for company. But even if she doesn’t stay, I’d like her to know she’s always got a place here if she wants to come back to stay or just visit.”
“I can’t image you’d meet a person like her in Baker.”
“Well, she’s not the first unusual person I’ve met there. Take Phil, for example. His full name is Philippe. He’s from France. I met him in Baker one day. Told me he was hitchhiking around the United States. He had come over after the war. Told me he wanted to meet the country that produced the people who saved his country from Hitler. He’s tried hard to blend in. I think he’s completely lost his accent.
Now if he’s just brought Charles De Gaulle with him, our countries might get along better. Anyway, Phil told me he’d always dreamed about being a cowboy. I asked him if he knew anything about cattle. He said not much, said he’d been a farmer before the war. Heck, didn’t even know how to ride a horse.”
“And you hired him?”
“Of course. Anyone who’s been a farmer is used to hard work. Never deny a man a chance to fulfill his dream by working hard for low wages!
That was fourteen years ago, and Phil’s been with me ever since.”
We crossed the north end of Watson’s Wash and drove up the opposite hillside before turning south on a road that was little more than a meandering track. The high desert scent of sage grew stronger as the jeep’s hot muffler dragged over the brush that had grown in the middle of the road. We passed a huge cottonwood tree with bright green leaves blinking in the sun beside a windmill. There was a stock tank and a few scattered boards: all that remained of a homestead. The windmill was cranking briskly in the wind kicking down the wash from the north.
When we reached Cedar Canyon Road, Mr. Stonebridge turned west, and we drove down into the broadest part of the wash. There was no real road anymore – just sand, rocks, gravel and uprooted sagebrush and chamisa, but I could tell the jeep tires were making contact with the hardpan below the washout. That meant I would be able to get my truck, with its big dual wheels, through the wash.
Mr. Stonebridge was silent as he maneuvered through the sand and gravel.
When we started up the other side, he continued.
“I think she loves it out here. She’s outside with her coffee in the morning to watch the sunrise, and she never misses a sunset.
She’s not allergic to hard work, either. Pitches right in and helps me and the hands.”
“Does she talk about Salinas?”
“A word or two from time to time. But she never says much. If I ask questions, she clams up. I suppose she’ll tell me in her own good time. Or she won’t. Either way is fine with me.
Something dangerous happened that dumped her in Baker that night. She’s still very fearful. All she had when she got here was that black dress, so I wanted to take her to Barstow to buy some clothes. She wouldn’t go. Didn’t want to leave the ranch. She gave me the sizes and I bought the stuff. Downright embarrassing buying bras and underwear.”
As we turned off Cedar Canyon onto the ranch road John’s father had carved out of the desert all those years before, the setting sun slipped below the horizon, flaring crimson and gold in the west as only desert sunsets can. Bats and nighthawks were appearing in the evening sky. Venus was already visible.
When we climbed the last of the switchbacks and turned toward the ranch house in the twilight, I realized the truck was not where I had left it. Kiko had driven it over by the barn and parked it parallel to the barn doors, which were propped open.
Almost all of the building material was already off the truck. Kiko was dragging the last fifty-pound sack of cement off the flatbed as we drove up. All the concrete blocks were stacked neatly beside the truck.
She took her gloves off, put them both in her right hand, and stood in that slightly akimbo stance you often see with ballet dancers or figure skaters.
Mr. Stonebridge and I got out of the jeep and walked over to her.
“How’d you get all that stuff of the truck? Took me half the morning to get everything on there.”
“I guess that excitement with the snake got my adrenalin flowing. Had to do something to work it off.”
“What’s this about a snake?”
Kiko told him what had happened. In her version of things I was quite a hero.
“Good Lord, Ade, it’s a good thing you were here.”
“I just saw the snake before it rattled. She would’ve stopped when she heard it. It’s not something you have to teach people.”
“I’ve heard rattlers before, and I still think you saved me.”
Mr. Stonebridge looked at her in surprise.
“Out here, on the place?”
Kiko hesitated.
“No, somewhere else. A long time ago.”
I think Mr. Stonebridge wanted to ask her more, but he could tell she wanted to drop it.
He turned to me.
“You’re coming back tomorrow, right?”
“Should be here before noon.”
I got in the truck and started it up.
Kiko and Mr. Stonebridge waved at me as I turned the truck toward the road.
When I reached Watson’s Wash, I had to turn on the headlights to make my way carefully through the sandy, rock-strewn bottom. I managed to dodge the biggest rocks while going fast enough not to bog down.
When I rose up the other side, the Joshua trees next to the road looked menacing and bizarre in the headlights, their branches reaching into a velvet-black night sky. It would not be long before Orion crept briefly over the horizon.
I reached Lanfair Road, turned south, and hurtled along under the inky sky all the way to Goffs.
Once I got back to the pavement of old 66 and picked up speed, the insects that filled the night smashed against my windshield. As I drove, I thought about my strange day. Finding Mr. Stanton lying on the ground. The vivid, unsettling hallucination in Paiute wash. The incident with the Mojave Green at the Stonebridge ranch. I thought about Kiko and what Mr. Stonebridge had told me about her
I was sure there was far more to her story than she had told Mr. Stonebridge. But if he wasn’t going to press her for more details, I certainly wasn’t.
But that didn’t keep me from wanting to know.
It was almost nine o’clock by the time
I parked the truck outside our house. I took a little walk to stretch my legs. I crossed the last street on the west side of town to a raised berm that marked the boundary between the houses and the silent desert. I climbed up and stood there, taking in the Great Bear over the distant Dead Mountains. I looked up into the night sky to find the inverted “W” of Cassiopeia and the Pleiades before I went inside.
I was a little hesitant to bother Lieutenant Caballo so late in the evening, but I was anxious to know how Mr. Stanton was doing. I dialed the number the lieutenant had written on the back of his card.
A woman answered on the first ring.
“Caballo residence, Esperanza speaking.”
“Sorry to bother you so late, ma’am. It’s Aeden Snow. Lieutenant Caballo said I could call when I got home to see how Mr. Stanton was doing.”
“Oh, you’re the young man who saved Mr. Stanton’s life.”
“Ma’am, you’re the second person today who thinks I did more than I really did.”
“Well, I don’t know who the first one was, but Carlos told me if you hadn’t stopped by, things could have gone very badly for that kind, old man.
He told me you would probably call. I’ll get him to the phone.”
In a few seconds, the Lieutenant came on the line.
“Evening, Aeden.”
“Evening, sir. I apologize for calling late. How’s Mr. Stanton.”
“He’s fine, Ade. As we thought, he had a stroke, but it was a very mild one. He wanted to turn around and go home as soon as he got to the hospital, but they kept him overnight for observation. The doctor says he has the heart of a forty year old. Mr. Stanton should be back home by tomorrow afternoon.”
“I’m glad!
I’ve got another load to deliver up in the Mid Hills. I could ask my boss if it would be okay to drop Mr. Stanton at his station on my way by.”
“Kind of you to offer, but that won’t be necessary. I’m going to take him back myself. I want to check around his place and make sure nothing was disturbed while he was gone.”
“Thanks for letting me know about him.”
“You’re welcome, and thanks for all you did.”
A wave of relief washed over me. I realized again how much I looked forward to my visits with Mr. Stanton.
I hung up and went into the living room. As usual, my mom was on the couch reading a book. She told me Dad had caught a trip east and wouldn’t be back until morning.
I visited with her for a while, telling her about my day and what had happened with Mr. Stanton. I didn’t tell her about Kiko. I thought I’d better ask Mr. Stonebridge if it would be okay. He seemed so protective of her. Before long, I couldn’t keep my eyes open.
I excused myself, took a quick shower and collapsed into bed.
CHAPTER 8
Smoke Tree, California
And the mountains
Of the Eastern Mojave Desert
June 9, 1961
Aeden Snow
The next morning, I got to the hospital early. I was told I would have to come back during visiting hours. I went on to work, even though the store didn’t open for another hour. I unlocked the gate, drove the truck inside and locked everything up again. I had most of the order on the truck by the time the Halversons arrived to open up for the day.
Mr. Halverson came out to the lumber yard. I gave him the paperwork Mr. Stonebridge had signed to acknowledge delivery. I also told him about what had happened at Arrowhead Junction.
“You know, in all the years I’ve driven by that place on the way to Vegas, I’ve never stopped. I’ve seen the old man you’re talking about puttering around out there a time or two. So that’s Mr. Stanton?”
“Yessir. Hugh Stanton. He owns the station.
I went to the hospital this morning to see him. They said I was too early, so I came ahead over to start loading this order. I told Mr. Stonebridge I’d be there before noon to make up for yesterday. Stopping at Arrowhead Junction made me real late to the Box S. And I had to go the long way around because Mr. Sweeny at the Goffs store told me Von Trigger and Watson washes were both a mess. Didn’t want to take a chance on getting stuck or losing the load.”
“You’re certainly getting an early start today.
I know this load isn’t quite as big as the one yesterday, but you’ve got some expensive stuff on there. That knotty pine isn’t cheap. So, just like yesterday, don’t rush.”
“Yessir. I’ll be real careful.”
When I reached Arrowhead Junction, I pulled the truck under the overhang at Mr. Stanton’s station. I checked around the building to see if anyone had broken in. I didn’t know what I would have done if they had, but everything was okay.
I got back on the road.
When I reached the spot where I’d had the vivid hallucination the day before, the images were still vivid in my mind. I pulled the truck off onto the shoulder and got out. I walked up the wash and under the trestle to the other side.
I knew it was stupid, but I scuffed through the rocks and gravel in the wash, looking for horse droppings or signs of shod horses. Of course, there were none, just tire tracks from some kind of vehicle, wandering off through the broken volcanic rock, bayonet yucca, barrel cactus and creosote. I went back to the truck and pulled onto the highway.
I was about halfway between the wash and Goffs when I saw someone walking west along the shoulder of the highway. As I drove by, I saw a slender man of medium height with jet black hair wearing a blue flannel shirt, Levi’s and work boots.
Although it was only nine thirty in the morning, the temperature was already well on the way to a one hundred plus degree day. In spite of that, the man wore no hat: only a red bandana tied around his forehead.
I had not seen a vehicle of any kind parked along the road, so he was not leaving a breakdown. I couldn’t imagine why he was walking along a desert highway, but by the time my curiosity got the better of me, I was already a hundred yards beyond him. I tapped the brakes a few times and slowly brought the truck to a stop, careful not to shift the load. Looking in the rearview mirror, I could see he had broken into a trot. He had a canteen over his right shoulder. It banged against his hip as he ran.
I slowly backed up. In a few moments, I was beside him. He pulled open the door and looked in at me.
He was not a young man. Forties was my guess, although he was an Indian and I was not good at gauging the ages of adult Indians, or any adults for that matter. My perception of the world of grownups was pretty much limited to adult, somewhere in the middle, and real old.
“Thanks for stopping.”
“I was surprised to see someone walking out here.
Where you headed?”
“Caverns in the Providence.”
“Mitchell’s caverns?”
“People charge admission call them that.”
“What do you call them?”
“Suuparva i’nip.”
“Could you say that again?”
“Suuparva i’nip.”
“And that means?”
“Gather-together spirit.”
“What language is that?”
“Chemehuevi.”
“I’m headed to the Mid Hills to deliver this stuff. If you don’t mind riding along, I’ll take you where you’re going when I’m done.”
“Beats walking.
Help you unload. Earn my ride.”
“Deal!”
He climbed in.
I held out my hand.
“Aeden Snow.”
He touched it lightly.
“Joe Medrano.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Medrano.”
He nodded.
When I stopped at the Goffs store for a Dr. Pepper, he didn’t come inside with me. When I brought one out for him, he said, “Obliged.”
That was the sum total of our conversation until we got to the turnoff for the Box S.
“Stonebridge Place.”
“Do you know Mr. Stonebridge?”
/> “No.”
We climbed the switchbacks to the rock-lined driveway that led to the ranch. I pulled the truck up next to the barn where Kiko had unloaded the supplies the day before. When I got out of the truck, Mr. Stonebridge was already walking toward me.
“Morning, Ade.”
“Morning, John. Here’s everything else.”
“I’ll help you unload.”
“No need. I picked up a rider on the way. He said he’d help.”
Joe Medrano was already out of the truck and untying the ropes securing the delivery.
John walked over. “John Stonebridge. Welcome to the Box S. Good of you to help.”
He held out his hand.
Joe touched it lightly, as he had mine.
“Joe Medrano.”
“Well, if two of you can do it quick, three of us will be even quicker.”
We worked steadily for half an hour before we had everything inside the barn. When we were done, John checked the unloaded materials against the invoice and signed for the delivery.
“I’ve got my supplies. Now all I need are better building skills.”
Joe spoke.
“Ask what you’re building?”
“Going to put an addition on the northeast corner of the house.”
“How big?”
“Twelve by sixteen.”
Joe looked over at the house.
“Shouldn’t be hard.”
“Not for someone who knows what they’re doing. I doubt if you could make one decent carpenter if you put me and both my hired hands together.”
“Match the adobe?”
“That’s way beyond me. Not even going to try. I’m just gonna stucco the addition.”
“Shame. Won’t look right.”
“Do you know anyone who can build with adobe?
“Me.”
“How about carpentry work. Any good at that?”
“Some say.”
John stood staring at Joe for a moment.
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