Ford At Valverde

by Anita Melillo

  FORD AT VALVERDE

  A Novel

  By

  ANITA MELILLO

  Copyright © 2013 by Anita Melillo

  All rights reserved.

  COPYRIGHT

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portion thereof, in any form. “Ford At Valverde” is printed in the United States.

  This is a work of fiction. Any references of historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013 by Anita Melillo

  Library of Congress 1-902514651

  All rights reserved.

  Dedication

  For all who will love without end, and for those who have ever

  questioned the reason for their existence.

  And for the love of my life, Tony.

  some other temptation

  The winds were blowing in from the Dakotas when I heard that I would be southward bound. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to fight, nor was I opposed to a mans’ right to not have to till another mans’ soil if he didn’t have the notion to. But the light from a days path warms on us all differently, and from some sense of reasoning, it was like a magnetic pull, grabbing at my boot-strings and drawing me further west, where the dry strokes of the desert air seemed to whisper sentiments unknown, calling me ever closer to its’ sustenance and claim, just laying wait for me to receive it.

  Only life can be a peculiar thing, planting us like a limerick in some distorted rhyme, bemused by our dysfunction of finding ourselves somewhere in the middle of where we didn’t expect to be. And I suppose that’s where it found me. Oh, in my dreams I have conquered it. For all becomes possible when reality is diffused, but the difference is that it is all too real, and the realness of it touches the place where the memory lives and all is tangible.., in the middle.

  Etched in glass and chiseled from granite, now these were the makings of men. For many found themselves in needful situations, but few dared to resist as he had. The reluctance showed even though he was determined to go. The moment would be subdued by a simple departure where he knew he might not ever see his brothers again. Daniel Stone, still early enough in his years so that as pride would have it, stood with his wits pronounced as though he knew what was best, though not without his fears. If he looked at the moment for what it was worth, it could be had for a song without remorse. For he knew that if he stayed something much worse could lend its cord, and then who would be there to fish him from the mire of its girth?

  Already they were talking about volunteering their souls to Uncle Sam at the price of thirteen dollars a month, with the promise of some honor in the end, perhaps a trinket medal to rest on their bedside stands, while the demolishing sounds of bayonets rattled off in the distance. Such sleeping was for the soundless, those without the ability to express themselves by way of the darkened few. And if he looked closer still, it was even plainer to see that the table was lined with the trail of his mistakes.

  It said that the sweaty residue on the crumpled up linen, the tweaked off end of his stale cigar, and the emptied bottle of whiskey where his shot glass swished around in the ashes had been the sum of his journey thus far. It wasn’t as much about the need to leave as it was about finding his way, and amidst the amiable voices of others arguing over the need to war were the thoughts of the battle that rivaled within. It was deep and bottomless and swelled with a brooding that only the journey itself could quench.

  His blistered hands stung from the alcohol that trailed down the tip of the bottle, and were tinged rough from the sap of the tree trunks he had pushed through the whining blades at the saw mill. However, the callousness only showed in his expression when the furrow between his brows was peaked with discernment. There was the bewildered prejudice in both his brothers’ eyes, and looking back at him was foolery. He knew he was an outcast, even if his actions showed otherwise.

  There was this cocky confidence about him that made him nothing slight of dangerous enough to tempt fate on every hand. It danced in the hazel of his eyes and steeped an effervescence into his gaze, despite the roundness of the silver-framed eyeglasses.

  His features were smooth and undulated with a hollowness to his broadened jaw line with a bold chin. Although his hair was never as refined as the way he dressed for such an occasion, and stretched around his shoulders like strips of bark, combed by the weather and brushed with dirty golden strands.

  Easing his shoulders against the ladder back chair, he reached into the velvet lined pocket of the copper striped vest beneath his brown trench, and looped the chain of a silver Cutters watch around his forefinger. His reflection was comprised by the arrogance of surpassing youth, dangling before him like a mirror within his hand. It had belonged to his father many years before, and was the only remaining item that held anything of caliber. Yet a constant reminder that time could slip away if you didn’t coil it tightly enough.

  Lloyd, portly and mule-headed with his receding curly hair, matted black as the day he was born, made a grab for the heirloom as Daniel swiftly pulled it away, allowing it to slink back into his pocket.

  “Anxious to get rid of me, huh?” he teased, serious in his tone, but comprised of angst. “Don’t worry. It’ll be here soon enough, and you won’t have to endure the agony of another hour of my shit for company.”

  “No, sire,” he added as if on cue. “I’d hate to put you out more than is necessary.”

  With that, Lloyd gave a grumble under his breath and his lips puckered round and tight so that his face reminded him of a horse’s ass on judgment day. Then he stamped his feet hard on the floor to vent his frustration, sending a shod of excitement throughout the noisy room, and was brimming with anxiety to let out the candor for his understated intentions.

  “Why don’t you just give the damn thing a rest, is all! I wasn’t going to steal it, dammit! I’m just tired of seeing you ponder it all the time like its got legs and a will of its’ own!”

  Daniel merely scoffed and shook his head, as he took a swig from the bottle and offered it towards his brother.

  Osprey, the oldest by five years, and seasoned in his response was always the first to make sense of their dilemma, no matter the cause. His hair was cured with salt and peppered gray, but his face was still full of vigor, and when he spoke the wisdom of Job always rang through like the voices of carolers on a cloudless night, though the morning was clearly hazed by the smoke of their dismay. He had barely turned the leaf to forty, but like the Juniper bushes in winter that remained green throughout its season and still produced wine colored berries, despite the frost layered heavy along its’ edges, so had the stresses of everyone else’s problems crusted about his crown, and seemed to wear him like the thick black cravat beneath the somber woolen jacket.

  “It’s really more simple than it seems,” he turned to Lloyd in a manner that said he was at the fore helm.

  “You see.., in a matter of minutes you won’t have to wonder what would have been if he had stayed.” Then he eyed Daniel sternly, “And you’ll judge the distance as a good nights sleep. Only your thoughts will become entangled by the threat of anything hostile, and you’ll miss the security of knowing that your conscience ruled the day.”

  He swirled his cup of coffee around with his finger, noticing the luke-warmness of it, and brought it to his lips to taste anyway. Then he sat it back down and looked pensively into the younger and said, “Besides, I’ve heard tales of savages doing far worse than anything you’d encounter on the battlefield.”

  At
that, Lloyd pounded his fist onto the table in the aroma of it all and voiced his opinion to no avail.

  “That’s right! Dagnabit! Why just the other day, I heard about a trapper that got caught up by a band of Sioux just a ways northwest of here, Black Hills, I believe. They damn well strapped him upside down, spilled out his intestines and fed parts of his liver to the dogs while he watched! They say a slow death brings them more power as a mans’ ghost leaves!”

  Daniel upturned the bottle of whiskey and swallowed down the last of it, letting it burn the back of his throat as it warmed his bloodstream. The thoughts of such didn’t lend the encouragement that he needed, so he spun the bottle around on its axis until it had finally flopped over on its side and rolled across the table. Osprey stopped it with his hand and stared curiously, as though watching for the travesty that must have been playing on his mind.

  “Thanks a lot brother’s,” Daniel gave them both a glance of recognition. “It’s talks like these that’ll keep me warm out on those cold nights in the wilderness,” which was followed by an uneven laugh that said he could use another drink.

  He had heard the stories as well, and read all about it in the newspapers, sporting the casualties of civilian encounters with Apaches after embarking upon their territories in the west. He knew that it was no exaggeration about the ways in which some tribes tortured their victims and thought the reality of it was best left to the wickedness of dreams.

  “Truth be known,” he added as though it still held no indifference to his decision.

  Osprey’s sympathy was lost in his humility, and he compelled Daniel to see reason once more while his voice was still within reach of his hearing.

  “It is an honorable thing to die for your country,” he stressed with an air of compassionate dignity.

  However, Daniel didn’t care to mince words. It had all been said before, so he simply leaned back in his chair and twisted the end of a cigar between his teeth, studying the face of his elder brother.

  “I know you’ve got my best interest at heart,” he reasoned, “but it seems to me that when a man sets to his path, he ought to see where it takes him. Besides, the battlefield is happenstance, but the unventured road ahead is yet to be determined. It’s not the dying I’m afraid of, but the life unlived.”

  Osprey looked disheartened by his brother’s position, and felt compelled to extend his sentiment once more.

  Just then, the moan of the foghorn in the distance sounded and was a signal that the train would soon come. Even as the water vessels came and went, so did the traders, along with those that had the job of emptying the ship’s in order to keep their own.

  With their potbellies, wayward tongues and forearms cast from a days sweat, they spent many a moment tasting a hard drink and listening to each others tales about their mothers. These were men of destiny and duality. The direction from which they came mattered little, nor did their course of action for the day. It was a waterfront port, and if one looked upon the horizon, it seemed never-ending. And perhaps the finality of the moment was somehow made broader by the expanse of sky above the shoreline, even though the wind was ever shifting and a growing threat.

  It was Milwaukee, and with the year of 1861 coming to a close the days were becoming significant to many. The war machine had been churning out work for some, while others sent back what they could to loved ones that were pulling double loads. It was still a busy town, and a supply of goods would be bought and transported back home to the family store that Lloyd managed. It would take several hours to get back, but seemed a good place to see Daniel off. Most of the people in Chippewa Falls thought he was joining up before the draft, as there were threats that it would happen soon, especially for the men below the age of thirty-five.

  Lloyd had beat the number by two years, and Daniel thought it was better to leave before he was served. Osprey had recruited so many from the pulpit, that he was one of the few remaining men left in their community. There had already been several casualties from the battles in Virginia, and it only seemed to fuel the need for more to join the fight.

  But on this day in particular one had to sigh at the sights of men at their best, and the sporadic outbursts of laughter within the Lucky Port Pub. The walls needn’t talk, for if they did, they would only echo fragments of their words intent.

  As a stream of air whistled through the opening in the doorway, it was an eerie sense that one got when something was slipping through the cracks. Trying to master it made no sense. It was spirited and willful, forcing its way throughout the room.

  Daniel, now weary to put the past behind him, cursed that the flame had died out from his just lit cigar. He twitched an eye as he puffed on the end, while swiping another match across the grainy table.

  “It’s colder than a witch’s tit out there,” he complained with an exhale.

  “And bound to get colder still,” Osprey continued vehemently, while he raised his trembling cup of coffee towards the waitress for her to top it off.

  Lloyd, feeling the weight of Daniel’s discord, gave his fruitless resolute as he turned to Osprey.

  “Just save it for Sunday morning, all right? Seems to me that he’s in the right place to vent a little misery. Why, he’s off to Timbuktu or who the hell knows where, and we don’t know when we’ll be seeing him again!”

  Daniel agreed with a glint of mischief. “I suppose we’ve all got our demons,” he said, “but this one wrestles with me day and night. I’ll never rest until I find out what’s out there. Could be diamonds, gold or some other temptation still, but she’s waiting just the same.”

  Lloyd laughed uneasily, and it was apparent that Osprey was deeply offended. He pushed his cup away and started to get up, but then he sat there for a moment and studied the cross ties and whittled beams that braced the sagging ceiling, laden with the weight of his convictions. His voice was a mixture of resentment and anger mingled with fear.

  “Sometimes it seems the whole world is damned and there’s not a thing I can do to save it,” he replied, but not out of haste. The thoughts had been pondered in the deep hours of night when sleep deprived him of rest.

  “Your words haven’t been lost on me,” Daniel reassured him. “Just because they haven’t settled in yet and taken root doesn’t mean they won’t.”

  He looked over to Lloyd and smiled with a wink as he put his hat back on, the black silk lining showing the threads that had weathered many storms.

  “Why, hells bells..,” he continued. “I may be your biggest convert yet. Just give me some time to find myself first, all right? May just be that I need some testing.”

  Osprey couldn’t help but return the irony of the moment when he glanced back at Daniel, as the shine in his eyes glistened in the light that remained.

  “I won’t argue it then,” he smiled. “Time will take care of itself.”

  It was then that Lloyd adjusted the tack of his belt as he ran a stubby finger inside the waist of his pants to loosen the restraint. His belly overlapped the portal of the trousers, but he was feeling more comfortable with the shifting of the mood.

  “And just what do you think Mother would have to say about such parting?” he smirked with a heightened sense of ill felt jealousy.

  The waitress had brought a bottle of whiskey onto the table and added more coffee to Osprey’s cup. Daniel took the bottle proudly and held it to his chest, as though an announcement was being made.

  “She’d bid us all a howdy-do, and toss on some hot coals just to make sure it was a pleasurable experience!”

  Osprey shook his head in disbelief, knowing that the same was true, but still hoped she was resting in peace.

  Lloyd, on the other hand, scrubbed at the deepening curve of his forehead, and reminded them about a time when Osprey was younger and much more defiant. He had shot up almost all of her canning jars, while they were filled with her prized Cherry Jubilee that would make pies for the yearly auction.

 
Daniel remembered it all too well and added that she didn’t stop whipping them for a month. Meanwhile, Osprey loosened the tightness of his cravat and agreed that they all had paid for that one in the end.

  Lloyd scoffed again. “She bent your damn wrist over double and it hasn’t worked the same since!”

  Osprey looked down at his aching hand that trembled when he held the handle of the burnished cup. Then he wedged it deep within his coat pocket, as though ashamed by the remembrance.

  “Those were lean times, brother,” he said apologetically. “Only I didn’t have the good sense to know it then.”

  Daniel laughed in his carefree style, and buckled it in with a long drawl on a freshly lit cigar.

  “You know, they’ve got cures for that sort of thing now days,” he puffed it out slowly.

  Osprey only smiled, “I can still hold it steady enough to count my blessings.”

  The heavy screech of steel brakes coming to an eased halt practically drowned out their words as the train roared into the station, shaking the foundation of the clap board tavern that had served as a sounding board for their many hardship’s over the years. Daniel exhaled with a smile, letting the spiral of smoke linger until it had lifted into the fog that clouded the room. Then he passed the cigar to Lloyd and patted him on the shoulder, squeezing his palm against the thickness that had increased with the loss of his hair, and he reached down for the brown leather duffle.

  “Well now, boys.” His long exaggerated grit showed its face. “It’s been real nice, but I’d best be hitting that lonely trail.”

  Although he tried to keep it mutual, Osprey realized that time was always short of what he needed. He stood with open arms to Daniel, and strained to see through tearful eyes.

  “Well then,” he said. “Here’s to destiny. May you find her to be everything you hope for.”

  Lloyd stood back for a moment and stared, as though watching a thing of beauty that was about to disappear and to perhaps never be seen again. Daniel could tell that his thoughts were going back, to a place that braided their many differences with the harshness of their childhood into a tightly woven bond that neither time nor distance could fray. Then he eased in with both arms around his middle and squeezed him like a boa that was constricting for the kill.

  “When you hit pay dirt, little brother,” he tightened the lock, as he heaved into his ear, “just remember who loves you best!”

  Daniel groaned loudly with the agony and shoved his brother off, as he pounded his shoulder with a firm twist of his fist.

  “I heard that,” he replied. Then he tucked the bottle of whiskey into his bag.

  Osprey bid him farewell with a simple, “God be with you.”

  Then they were both left standing with the crooked grin that Daniel gave them when he headed for the door. He only looked back for a moment and voiced with shaky conceit, “Just don’t go getting too comfortable on me now, I’ll be back!”

  When he stepped outside a gust of wind rushed the bar room, sending some playing cards into a scattered whir, as some men at a nearly table complained about it. Then the stream of air swept back through, slamming the door shut just as quickly.