The Sound of the Trees (36 page)

The old man squinted back and forth between the boy and the mule.

You ain't comin back, he said plainly.

No, the boy said.

The old man looked small and indistinct in the sparsity of the low-ceilinged cabin.

Well, the old man said, gathering himself proudly, you've earned your welcome here. I don't rightly know how, but you have. Now just you make sure not to upset old Zeus. He won't put up with none of your bullshit like I have.

The boy came forward and put out his hand. The old man took it and held it tight as he could. The boy let go, then put his hand on the stringy head that was slick with sweat and in one sudden motion he leaned down and kissed him flatly on the wrinkled shell of his crown. He leaned away and thought the old man would say something more but he did not.

The boy pushed two packs of cigarettes into the old man's hip pocket. Those should keep you for a while, he said. Then he went out and got on his horse. The old man watched as the boy quartered the mare and jogged her down by the river with the wind blustering upon them and the river splashing over the dead grass on the banks.

You come back, he said.

*   *   *

THERE WAS ALREADY
a fire going at Charlie Ford's house when the boy came knocking. Ford opened the door and shifted the cigarette he was holding into the other hand and shook hands with the boy. He stepped aside with his hand on the doorknob. Come set, he said.

He showed the boy through a spacious room of hardwood occupied by sparse oak furniture and brass lamps. They went silently across the cold floors and into a long hallway where the walls remained bare and in the back of the ranch house he led the boy through another door and into a final room where the fire was burning.

Above a wide brown leather couch was a large framed portrait of the rancher's wife. She was sitting on a rocker in the middle of a wheat field with her feet wrapped back around the chair legs in the manner of a contented child. In one hand she held daisies and in the other a bowl filled with shavings of an unknown flower, all purple and white and orange and caught in the portrait spilling to the ground.

The boy stood studying the portrait with his hat in his hands. Charlie Ford stood behind him with his own hands folded behind his back and watched between the boy and his painted wife. Finally he motioned the boy to sit on the couch.

What's in the bowl, the boy said, sitting himself down and setting his hat beside him.

Charlie Ford roused his eyes from the portrait and let down his hands from his back. Saffron, he said. She loved the smell of it. Used to cut it up and sprinkle it on the floor around our bed. Said it was what she smelled when she thought of me. Ain't that a funny thing to say? Lord, she was a funny thing.

Ford unbuttoned his breast pocket and withdrew a pack of cigarettes and handed one to the boy. Then he sat in one of the oak chairs that stood without symmetry around the room and hefted himself near the couch with his hands gripping the back of the chair. He leaned back and looked up at the portrait and shook his head, then smiled broadly at the boy.

So, he said. You were talkin about a barter if I'm not mistaken. What can I do?

Well. The boy swept a hand back and forth over the bristle of his hair. I was wondering if I could trade you for a horse, he said.

What's the matter with Triften?

The boy shook a finger. No, he said. Nothin's wrong with her.

Charlie Ford's eyes centered on the boy's and he opened his mouth slightly and tilted back his head. Oh, he said. Well. You mean the girl you was talkin about. Delilah, ain't it? He studied the boy's face and smoked and tapped his cigarette in an ashtray on the low butcher-block table that stood between them. He nodded to himself before the boy could answer.

I wish they'd just let her be, the boy said.

Well, Ford said, leaning up off the chair back, the mayor down there thinks that law without teeth ain't no law at all. Now myself, I tend to be of the thinkin that law without brains is even worse. He sucked at his bottom lip with disgust. But I can't imagine what you're plannin to do to get her out of it now, he said.

The boy rubbed his head again and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. He was looking past the rancher and into the flames from the fireplace behind him. He gritted his teeth. Hellfire upon this place, he said. He exhaled long and slow into his cupped hands. Just ride in is the best way I've been able to figure, he said. Just ride into the plaza and fire off the guns if such a thing is called for to get her free.

He stopped and his face fell suddenly slack at his own words and his eyes glassed over on the flames.

You ever tore off a piece before, son?

Sir?

Shot a gun. You ever done it? What I mean by that is have you ever used it?

The boy's hands went down from his head and began to fiddle with the hat beside him. Shot at birds and barrels, he said. And I shot a sick bovine once.

Charlie Ford shook his head. Shooting a man's a different thing entire, he said.

The boy looked off quickly to the side of the room. I know it, he said. But I don't care what happens to me no more.

Charlie Ford glanced once more and keenly at the portrait on the wall.

When I lost Ann Marie I thought I was done myself, he said in a tone much quieter and slower than he'd used with the boy before. Thought about it even. One shot under the chin. It's a simple thing, really. But after a while passed I knew how wrong that thinkin was. And dark. Ain't nothin good ever comes from dark thoughts. Now that may be a simple sayin from a simple man but it's true. You look out at this land uninterrupted as many days and years as I have, and these things'll get sifted out of you.

He put a hand across the table. He did not seem to want the boy to take it, but only meant to solicit him to listen.

But I see where you're at, Trude. It's the girl and the girl only and nothin beyond it. It ain't nothin to be ashamed of neither. Most men think there's weakness in turnin their hearts to women, but that ain't true. There's strength in it. And that's what I found out, and even it was there when I lost her.

Charlie Ford blew a long stream of smoke across the table in order to undo the boy from the pattern of his hands.

I ain't fool enough to think it ain't hard, and I ain't crude enough to try and lessen whatever it is that's between you two. And I know how it can seem to come from nowhere. That's almost the beauty in it. You and me know the same things in many ways, the lives we live. The life you was born to. The steadiness of work on the ranch, the same every day. The change in the chores that comes only in the change of the seasons. The comfort in that. This here ain't a business, though. A woman in you is as much a thing correctable as it is foreseeable. And it ain't always a thing you can put your hands to for to mold how you want it. I imagine I was already in pieces over Ann Marie before we even met. I know how that can happen. Now that's somethin fine and special and terrible to lose but you got to understand that things will keep goin even when it's down to just one of you left. Don't get me wrong, not a day goes by I don't miss that girl.

Charlie Ford shook his head very slowly. The firelight poured up behind him. His thick burly figure seemed suddenly diminished by the slackness of his shoulders.

She may not be around for me to talk to or touch, but the strength of her is in me still. And for that I know I've got no choice but to go on, even now. Because I imagine she has memories of me too, how she sees me. Strong, she'd say, full of energy. Maybe proud. What would she think of me if I myself disappear? What would she think if she saw me put a bullet in my head, which is what you're sayin more or less. What would Delilah think if she saw you walk into certain death?

He shook his head again, even slower this time.

No son, he said. You got to keep goin on. There ain't no sense in givin yourself up too. There ain't no strength in that.

The boy's hands came away from his hat and he squeezed them together a moment and looked at them. Then his eyes quickened and he looked up at Charlie Ford.

I know it, he said. But I've got to at least try for her. If you'd had the chance, you'd have done the same thing for your wife. He looked hard across the table. You'd do the same thing.

Charlie Ford leaned his elbows onto his knees and peered up at the portrait above the boy for a long time. Alright, he said.

And that was all that was said for a long while. They listened to the fire crackle. Charlie Ford continued looking at the portrait. The boy watched his face deepen upon it. It looked like he meant to summon a word or two from the flat canvas of her face.

You got to be careful, Charlie Ford said at last. You understand me? Be careful who sees you until tomorrow mornin and what they see you doin. And what with. What a man carries can tell you exactly what he's done the last few days.

And what do I look like I've been doin? the boy said.

Charlie Ford raised his eyebrows. Gettin ready, he said.

They sat silent for a moment longer with the shadows of the flames writhing on the walls.

What kind of horse? Ford said.

The boy leaned forward and took out a cigarette and lit it and dashed the match into the ashtray.

Doesn't matter, he said. Whatever you got to spare.

Charlie Ford rubbed his jaw.

Well, he said. I reckon I could put you up with one of the Morgs. I've got a good little saddle horse, he can rack even, but I think he'd be too young for mountain ridin. And I don't think a quarter horse would do much good unless he'd been worked in em, which mine haven't. I reckon the Morgan's the best bet. He's a little unmindful but takes well to the reins. Not so big like he should be, but big enough for her.

I aim to give you everything I got, the boy said. I bought some new clothes and a hat so I'm squared away with that. I got some forty dollars yet and all my other clothes you can have, except my coat and gloves. And you can have one of my saddlebags and a hackamore and bridle reins. Two bits I don't have any use for. Got a gad piece probably not worth a damn but it's yours. And a knife I don't reckon I'll need.

The boy rubbed his head, his eyes shifting back and forth from the fire to the table. Well, he said. I reckon I ought to keep that.

Charlie Ford raised a hand. Now hold on son. I don't need nothin from you. I'm prepared to give you the horse.

No sir. I'll just keep the knife. And my bedroll. But the rest is yours.

I don't want nothin.

The boy's face narrowed. Damn it, Charlie, he said. I want you to have it.

It was the first time the boy had used his name and it was then that the rancher saw what the boy meant by it. He closed his eyes. Alright, he said. But I want you to keep the money and I want you to listen to what I have to say about this now. I want you to listen to me right now.

Alright then.

The boy fell back onto the couch and put his hat in his lap and set his hands over the crown. Charlie Ford got up from his chair and went to the fire and threw another log on the flames.

I want you to know first of all that I appreciate what you're tryin to do. No matter what I've said. It ain't often that such an effort'll be made for anything or in any direction. Goodness don't got much to do with the world no more. I'm proud of you, boy. I guess that's all I mean to say. He turned from the fire and nodded. Then with the metal stoking stake raised in his hand he pointed toward the back of the house. That bein said, I want you to take my truck with you tonight.

The boy's eyes shot up from his hat. He was already shaking his head. Charlie Ford turned the stake toward the boy and raised his free hand to ease him back again. Now hold on, he said.

I don't know how to drive.

I know it. I'll teach it to you. It won't take but ten minutes. Now listen.

The rancher made expansive gestures with the stake and his shadow leapt behind him like a bear rearing among the pale painted walls. He explained to the boy how they wouldn't expect him in a truck and how it would be faster and easier to get away with. He told him that though he hadn't driven since his wife died in her own truck, he kept his in good shape and more than likely he'd be able to outrun anything that gave chase. He said if he made it out clear he could drive back to the ranch and pick up the horses and be gone into the mountains with not a scent of his breath left by the time they picked up his tracks. Lastly he resaid that they wouldn't expect him to come that way and the surprise of it alone would work in his favor.

The boy tried helplessly to refuse the logic of Charlie Ford's plan but could not. Charlie Ford set the stake against the fireplace and both men drew up the collars of their coats tight upon their necks and plodded out into the thick grass where the truck was parked aslant from four unused stalls at the rear of the property.

The truck was rusted at the tire wells but the rest was clean and russet-colored, though covered by a thin film of dust. The seats squelched when they got up in it. The boy sat in the passenger seat and shifted his knees from the dash and pushed back his hat.

Now don't look like that. It's ain't a tough thing. Look down here at the pedals. You got the clutch and the gas and the brake. Steerin's easy. Just turn when you want to turn and keep the wheel steady when you want to go straight.

Charlie Ford rummaged through his coat and brought forth a key tied to a leather thong and put it in the ignition.

Give down on the clutch to start it. When it catches, ease up on the clutch and throw the gearshift up here. This is first gear. Got four altogether. Put down on the gas the same time you let go of the clutch. When you're wantin to shift into the next gear to go faster, do the same. Start with the clutch, move the gearshift, and step on the gas.

Charlie Ford nodded at the boy and drove the truck out onto the high grass and into the gravel wash of his drive. The blousy evening light glittered before the headlights when he pulled them on. He stopped the truck after a while, going through the instructions again and recounting a number of situations he might find himself in and what to do if they indeed occurred.