The Dirty Parts of the Bible (21 page)

“It’s aloe vera—it’s very soothing.” She pulled the sheet down to my waist, and I yanked it back up. “It won’t hurt,” she said. “I promise.”

“It’s not the cactus.” I pulled the sheet tight around my neck. “It’s that I—I don’t have any shirt on. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Sarah put her hand on my shoulder. “You got banged up pretty bad. We had to cut off your shirt and pants to tend the wounds.” My cheeks burned red—I hoped to God I hadn’t lost control of my bladder when I blacked out. She peeled back the sheet and dabbed some of the juice on my shoulder. I winced. “Did Craw give you some salt to pour on me, too?”

She rolled her eyes and started rubbing it in. After a minute, my skin did start to feel better—not because of the lotion so much as Sarah’s hands. I closed my eyes and breathed in her scent.

Images from the night before came back to me in bits and pieces: the red dress, the river, the dinosaur tracks. Had I really kissed Sarah, or was it a dream? It all seemed so long ago. With a shudder, I remembered the broken boards, the earth giving out beneath me, the phantom Indian. Then I remembered the leather pouch. My pulse quickened. Father’s money was the answer to all my problems—and now that I knew where it was, it was just a matter of fishing it out.

Aunt Millie poked her head in. “Tobias?” I yanked the sheet back around my neck. She walked in with a steaming plate of biscuits and gravy—my favorite breakfast. Uncle Will followed close behind, shaking his head. “I’ve been meaning to fill in that damn well for years,” he said. “Just knew someone would get hurt one of these days. Thank God you didn’t bust your neck.”

Then Craw stepped through the doorway. I couldn’t believe it—Millie had never let him in the farmhouse before. He tipped his hat and grinned. “Well, well, well. You’re looking well, my boy—now that you’re out of the well.”

I pointed to the aloe vera. “Must be that cactus of yours.”

“Or the cedar bark poultice,” he said. I hadn’t bothered to look, but I did feel something wrapped tight around my left leg.

As I took a bite of biscuit, Aunt Millie put her arm around Craw and squeezed his waist. “Thanks for bringing him up alive,” she said. I almost choked on the biscuit.

“Don’t thank me,” Craw said. “Sarah’s the real hero.”

Millie threw her arms around Sarah. “I sure have misjudged you, dear.” Then she looked at me. “She’s a real peach, Tobias.”

“We’d better let him get his rest,” Craw said. “Course you should stay, Sarah”—he winked at me—“in case Tobias needs help getting to the john.”

+ + +

As I ate my biscuits, Sarah stared out the window. I wondered what she was thinking. In the light of day, maybe she’d forgotten all about that silly curse—after all, I hadn’t died. Maybe I’d broken the bad-luck streak.

I remembered the heft of Father’s satchel in my hand. There were a lot of coins in the bottom, but they wouldn’t add up to much. More importantly, it was stuffed full of bills—rolls and rolls of them, it felt like.

Would I bring it back to Remus? As much as I wanted to keep it all to myself, it was Father’s money. And as much as I disagreed with his religious notions, I couldn’t bear the thought of him and Mama dying in the poorhouse. It wouldn’t be a total loss—surely, he’d reward me for my labors. And with a cut of the money—just enough to buy a little shack—Sarah and I could start a new life together. If only I could convince her that she wasn’t cursed.

Sarah stood up and walked over to the bed. Her eyes were red and puffy. “Tobias,” she said, “I’ve been thinking it over.” I motioned for her to sit down, but she didn’t budge. “I’ve decided that I can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous for you.” She looked away. “It’s time to say goodbye.”

“But Sarah—” I propped myself up on my elbows. “I’m still alive. And better than that—I found it.”

She looked confused. “Found what?”

“There are some things I haven’t told you. Things I haven’t told anybody—not even Craw.”

She crossed her arms and waited for an explanation.

“When my father left here twenty years ago, he left a stash of money—a lot of money—in the bottom of a dry well. Right now, my father’s in trouble. That’s why he sent me to Texas. And last night, I found it. I held it in my hands, right before I passed out.”

Sarah sniffed back her runny nose. “Toby, you’re not thinking straight. You hit your head and—.”

“I’m thinking perfectly straight. Everything’s coming together, and it’s all because of you. I couldn’t find it on my own, but you led me to it.”

She put her hand on the doorknob. “I—I can’t stay.”

“Don’t you see it?” I slid my legs off the bed and struggled to sit up. “You’re not cursed—you’re a regular good luck charm. It wasn’t the easiest way of finding the money, but that’s my fault—I should have told you sooner. Should have asked for your help.”

“Stay away from me, Toby.” She cracked open the door. “Or something will happen. Another accident. He won’t give up. As long as I’m near you, he’ll keep after you.”

“He? Who’s
he
?”

Sarah let go of the door, wiped her face, and took a deep breath. “The day I was born, my great-grandmother prayed something over me—an incantation. A spell for an Indian spirit to watch over me.”

“Like a guardian angel?”

“Sort of.” She came closer. “Only he’s not much of an angel. More like a demon. He never gave me any trouble till a couple years ago, when boys started coming around. He’s jealous, I think, and when any boy comes too close—”

“You can’t really believe this,” I said. “Uncle Will said those boys got in accidents, plain and simple.”

“It always looks like an accident—just like you falling. But somehow, he makes it happen, I know it.”

“How—you’ve seen him?”

“A few times, starting from when I was a child. Usually at night.”

“It’s easy to imagine things in the dark—I do it myself. Moonlight plays tricks on you.”

“He’s an Indian warrior. Strong and very tall—maybe seven feet.”

A chill went up my spine. “With a face like wax?”

Sarah looked me straight in the eye. “You’ve seen him, too. I knew it.”

“No, no—of course not. Aunt Millie said something about Indians and then I had a nightmare. Mental suggestion, that’s all. There’s no such thing as spooks, or angels, or demons.”

She stiffened. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have known you wouldn’t believe.”

“Darn right I don’t believe. And if you help me get my father’s money, you’ll stop believing that nonsense, too.”

“I don’t want any damn money. All I want is for you to live.”

That pushed me over the edge of exasperation. Everything depended on the money—and she was blowing our chance. “And you think
I’m
talking like I hit my head? Stop being such a superstitious ninny.”

“You stay away from me, Tobias Henry.” For the second day in a row, Sarah turned and ran. This time, I didn’t try to follow.

CHAPTER 28

A
FTER
Sarah left, I licked the blood from my lip and thought about how attraction is like a rose. It springs up from fertile, manure-rich soil; it blooms for a day, giving off an intoxicating scent; and then it wilts, rots, and festers on the shit pile of life. As my father might have said, all things come from shit; all things return to shit—except he would have used the word “dust.”

A knock at the door shook me from my melancholy musings. It had the unmistakable ring of Craw’s hook. He removed his hat, scratched his bald head, and awkwardly stepped into the room. “Tobias, my boy, I’ve come to say goodbye.”

I dropped my head on the pillow—stunned again. This was turning out to be a bad day for goodbyes.

“My work here is done,” he said, “and the road beckons onward.”

I raised my head. “But the fence—”

“Son, if I stayed on till that damn fence was up, they’d bury me inside it. The cattle would graze on my grave. That’s the last thing I need—a bunch of bullshit on my tombstone.” He glanced up at the ceiling. “Then again, that might be appropriate.”

Then I remembered the money. If Sarah wouldn’t help me get it, maybe Craw would. “Wait a minute,” I said. “Would you stay for five hundred dollars?”

Craw stopped, scratched his chin, then waved his hand. “I’m a hobo, son. If I had that kind of money, I’d lose my position in life.”

I sat up and planted my bare feet on the floor. “Well, if you’re going, I’m going with you.”

He chuckled. “Boy, you could barely jump a freight with two good legs.”

I looked down at my bruised and swollen legs, with Craw’s poultice still around my ankle. “I’ll get that money I told you about—I’ll buy us both tickets. How’d you like to ride first-class?”

Craw glanced around the room. “What about Sarah? Where is she?”

I put my hand on the night stand and hoisted myself up. “She’s gone,” I said. “Ran off crying, and she never wants to see me again.”

Craw sat down and shook his head. “My boy, my boy. I never thought you the type.”

“What type?”

“The type to run out on a girl. Now,
I’m
the type to run out on a girl. But you—?”

“Look.” I took a careful step forward, still balancing myself against the night stand. “I’m not running anywhere—she left me.”

“If you let her go without a fight, it’s all the same.”

I sighed and lowered myself back onto the bed. Craw deserved an explanation, and if he was leaving, this was my only chance. “Listen,” I said. “The problem is, she believes that she’s cursed.”

Craw snapped to attention. “Cursed?”

“Haunted by the ghost of a seven-foot tall Indian warrior. And she honestly believes he’s going to kill me—that’s why she ran away.”

“Damn,” he said. “This is worse than I suspected.”

“You’re telling me—it’s plumb insane.”

He waved his hook. “Sarah, insane? Not a chance.”

Maybe Craw was missing something. I spelled it out slowly—“An Indian spook. Seven feet tall. Kills people. Now, do you believe that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? She’s an honest girl. And as sure as there are good spirits to guide us, there are dark spirits to block our path. They can annoy, oppress—and sometimes even possess a body. Sarah’s sounds like a particularly pesky bugger.”

“You’re both crazy.”

“Nothing crazy about it,” Craw said. “Sarah says she’s plagued by an evil spirit, three boys have died, and you almost shared their fate. If I were you, I’d damn well listen to that girl.”

The scary thing was, it almost made sense—and I couldn’t shake the image of that Indian in my dream. I turned away. “It’s all superstition. I don’t believe any of it.”

Craw shot me a glare. “What
do
you believe in?”

“I don’t know. Only what I can see, I guess. And touch.” I rapped my knuckles on the night stand. “The cold, hard truth.”

He sat down beside me. “Tobias, my boy, there are greater things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy. If all that exists is only what you can see, you live in a pretty small universe.”

“At least it’s real, and not some dream world.”

“Real? Only a speck of reality comes to us through our eyes. Shit—things we can’t see are the only things that make life worth living.”

“Like what?”

Craw hopped up and paced the floor, thinking. “Beauty. Poetry. Friendship. Joy. Love.” He stopped and looked at me. “You can’t see any of that. Can’t touch it. Can’t stick it under a microscope. Can’t prove it.”

“Maybe it isn’t real, then. Did you ever consider that? Maybe it’s all in your head.”

He crossed his arms. “You don’t believe in love?”

I looked at the door, wishing I could leave. “Talk about love all you want. From what I’ve seen, it’s just selfishness in disguise.”

Craw stamped his foot on the floor. “I’ll tell you what love is. Sarah risking her neck to bring you up out of that well—that’s love. And if that ain’t real, I don’t know what is.”

“Sarah said that you pulled me out.”

“With what—a fishing pole?”

I shrugged. I hadn’t even thought about how I was rescued.

“After you fell, Sarah ran to the shed. She grabbed a rope—and me. When we got to the well, she had me hold the rope while she shimmied down. Then she tied the other end to your waist and held you the whole way, while I pulled the both of you out.” He looked me in the eye. “Does that sound like selfishness in disguise?”

I squirmed under my sheet. Craw had saved my life in St. Louis, and now Sarah had done the same—neither of them expecting anything in return. Sarah’s words echoed in my mind: “All I want is for you to live.” Could I say the same for her, or was I just out for myself? Even if the curse was a fake, I shouldn’t have called her crazy. But what could I do?

“I wish I could help her,” I said. “But I don’t know how. How can you love a girl that’s haunted?”

Craw put his hand on my shoulder. “Tobias my boy, they’re all haunted. There isn’t a woman alive who doesn’t have a demon of one sort or another.”

I looked up. “How’s that?”

“Remember your fairy tales—all those stories about princesses held captive by dragons? They tell the truth. Deep inside, every woman is a princess. And every princess has a dragon.”