What ebbed above the mountaintop was more than just the play of the wind and snow that gathered about its peaks, as the sun danced an iridescence that lit up the rooftop of tin metal sheeting. With a three-inch nail, he fastened it down tight with the hammer, and all else paled at the shimmering glow. It had taken days of grind and sweat to meet the ridgeline to the corners, but the sense of satisfaction was well worth it. He had been milling over his options for weeks and had finally settled upon the ideal of sailing. There was work to be done, and if he planned it right there would be enough time to rise up through the ranks enough to become a ship’s captain, and perhaps to be able to settle easy in his later years. The tendency to climb came from the challenges of youth, but had stayed with him long enough to see him through. He had learned the satisfaction in the diligence of the completion of something, and it had seemed a final test. In a matter of days, the widow and what young-ones remained would be moving into the new home. It felt pleasing that he had helped to restore some good between the pages of his ravaged life.
Daniel counted the ways that he had adopted his plan. Short of looking for a ship’s mate, would be the trip to shoreline. From freight to anything that needed transporting, he would be the man for the job, and out of it would come a sojourn independence from whatever ailed him. It would be a breaking away of sorts with a poor mans bread of expectancy, like eating the air on promise of supply until something better took its place. With it came the revelation of what he partly knew already, that he was destined to live by the sea, even if it meant charting her at high tide.
From the countenance of things came a new sense of being, just like Osprey had assured him, once his senses had been restored. It had taken him from morning up to sun down to realize that he was more than just the harshness he had endured. He could feel the gravity of his questions, even though so many were left unanswered, and he liked it that way. It said that he was human, a mere mortal, and that there was life in him still yet to be reasoned.
So far the day had two things in common, and none of which he wanted to disclose to his brother at this time. He knew that he would be leaving again soon, and Osprey had been there for him in a way that no one ever had, and he endeared him as a friend, even more so than a brother. He had taken leave for a while to get some more timber to close in the underpinning of the house, which would only need a coat of paint in addition. There was a knowing that came with the understanding of who he was, that he discovered didn’t have to do with another person or place, but resided within himself. If that ideal was okay, then the rest was bound to turn out all right as well.
His hands were feeling sore from having struck the hammer for so long, but his arms were lean and he was stronger than he had been in the past. He had learned to let go and to save what he could from the best of both worlds, in which the two could no longer unite. If he had ever felt a need to cry, it had been left in the distance of what he had vowed was among the unmentionables.
With the sun now hot against the back of his head, he wiped his face into his shirt that was ringed with sweat. The breeze carried the hint of cargo approaching, as the sound made vibrations against the rafters. He jumped down from the single level pitch roof and shook his head at the grass. A cat, calico with black patches got up and ran away, as Osprey came up the road.
The wagon bed was loaded down with boards and chinking, but his eyes were none the sorer for the sack of sandwiches on the seat next to him. Osprey eased up on the horses and got down with the sack in hand.
“Looks fine from the road coming in,” he replied out of respect. “Lydia O’Neal will be mighty pleased. She will!” He handed him the sandwich.
Daniel agreed with a bite that filled his cheeks so that there wasn’t room to talk in response, before drinking water from a clear canning jar.
“Them’s good for runners,” he pointed at the left over sheets of tin, “if you can prime ‘em just right.”
“We’ll hold onto ‘em then, and maybe store ‘em out behind the house,” he answered, well aware of the news he had with him.
Daniel had shoved the rest of his sandwich in his mouth when Osprey was inclined to open the satchel. He pulled out a filing rasp and handed it to Daniel, and then paused.
“I know there’s some things we’re not supposed to talk about, but sometimes the damndest of things happen that makes a person have to go and bring them up. Right when you’re in the middle of this finely engineered project, I have to go and unravel all of your plans.”
He pulled out a letter in a white envelope from the inside pocket and placed it in his hand. Daniel’s expression was one of astonishment when he read the return address, which was from Ms. Annabelle Dufrene of San Francisco, California. “I don’t know just how it winded up here, or if it’s some queer kind of joke, but it was sent more than three months ago so you’d better have a look,” he added.
Daniel’s mouth was open when he ripped the seal and found another envelope inside, which said that should one Daniel Stone ever receive such, that the nature of its contents were entirely personal, and to be opened only by the addressee.
“Go ahead,” urged his brother. “It can’t hurt to look inside.”
So Daniel sat down first on the damp green grass and started to open it. Then he stood back up, until finally he had the letter out of its sleeve and was skimming over the words.
“Good God,” he glanced over to his brother, his eyes now engaged from the sting of fresh tears, and he swallowed to keep his voice from quivering. “Do you know what this means?”
“Yes,” he smiled with an overwhelming good feeling of joy, “I believe I do.”
At once, Daniel shouted so that his voice rang out above the rooftop, as he turned about and shot his arms towards the sky, “Whew hoo!... They made it!... Hot diggity damn!”
The spirit was contagious, as Osprey grabbed his brother by the arm and danced around with him like nothing else mattered. Then after they settled down for a spell, Osprey urged him to read the rest of what she had to say. So Daniel took the letter and poured over the words for quite some time before he looked back over to Osprey, who was anxious to hear all about it. But Daniel, though happy and feeling release from the years of anguish, was not altogether pleased with the results.
“She waited for me, hoping that I would somehow make it there Her heart was always with me, but she is marrying another.” He replied in a peculiar pinch.
“Well,” Osprey sighed. “The first part sounded real good.” Then he stared at his brother for a few seconds and headed back for the wagon.
“Say,” he said. “I’ll be needing some help with these timbers.”
Daniel was still paused in his thoughts when he said out of haste. “You know, I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I’d already decided to get hired on as a crewman, anyway. Sea life does have it’s benefits.”
Osprey nodded in agreement, and pulled at one of the timbers, ready for Daniel to hoist the other end.
“It does indeed,” he gave a cordial response that said it was no big deal.
“Supposin’ I did venture all the way to San Francisco, what’s to say she isn’t married when I get there?” he questioned matter-of-factly.
Osprey only shrugged his shoulders as Daniel lifted the other and over the side of the wagon. “I reckon’ there is some bliss in never knowing. After all,” he said, “ignorance is bliss, or so I’ve heard it told anyway.”
Daniel let his end drop onto the ground, and threw his hands up in the air and paced. “It’d take a month or more to sail that distance, and besides that, the train doesn’t run that far.”
Ford At Valverde Page 20