a novel
by Larry Rice
Chapter 1.
Sherman,
Texas, 1918
The white haired old man limped back from the barn. His leg
had been paining
him more than usual lately. The arrival of
the cooler fall nights always made it worse, but it
had never been this bad before. He shuffled
up the steps and sat down heavily in his favorite chair and loaded his pipe and
tamped and stoked it. When he had a good draw going, he leaned back out of the
fragrant smoke and stretched his bum leg out in front of him. He had sat in
this chair almost every evening of his life for the past twenty years gazing
out on his pastures gleaming green and gold. He could see the new colts
frolicking in the distance, their proud and vigilant mothers silhouetted
against the golden rays of the setting sun. This was by far his favorite time
of day, when everything stands perfectly still, suspended between past and
future in a timeless calm as if Mother Nature were pausing to say a little
prayer and take a deep breath before continuing - a contemplative hour of peace
when thought links hands with feeling. He was just about to slide down deeper
into his own daydreams when he saw way off in the distance the dust of an
approaching car.
Damn, “ He
muttered, “now who the hell could that be? “
“ Somebody’s
comin’, Nola, “ he called into the house.
His wife appeared at the screen door. She was still an
attractive woman with a slim body and tight flesh despite her sixty-five years.
She fussed with her thick white hair
pinned up into
snowy billows atop her head. “ It better be family, this close to suppertime, “
she said.
“ If it’s
another salesman ignorin’ my signs, I swear I’ll get the shotgun
out. “
They had a
while to discuss the approaching vehicle because
They
could see it from miles away. The road was deliberately kept in horseback
condition so the car was creeping along. Automobiles were still a novelty to
the Bradford’s. Though they owned a Model “T” truck, they rarely used it except
to haul hay or on monthly trips to town for supplies and then they drove it at
wagon speed. Twenty minutes later the car turned into the shade of the huge
weeping willows that lined the main driveway.
The old man
put on his spectacles and squinted. “ It looks like a city slicker of some
sort. Get my gun, Mama. “
“ Now just
hold your horses, “ she said. “ We have plenty of relatives who’re city
slickers. “
He refilled
his pipe, tamped it sloppily, and lit it and pulled hard on it. It went out
and
he tossed it in the ashtray beside the chair. When the car came to a stop fifty
yards away
across the green expanse of lawn, the old man stood and puffed out his chest
efiantly.
A young man
got out of the car and waved. He slammed the door and the door swung back open
and he slammed it again. He sauntered up the walkway between the rows of
flowers with a spring in his step that the old man envied. When he was fifteen feet away he removed his
hat and a mop of thick blonde hair exploded into view. “Howdy, “ he said with a
guileless smile. “ Is this the Bradford residence, sir? “
“ Maybe, “ the
old man said, “ who wants to know? “
The young man
placed one foot up on the bottom step and the old man looked down at it like it
was a rattlesnake. The fellow put both feet back on the ground and said, “ My
name’s Ben Light. Luke Light was my Grandfather. “
The old man’s
mouth dropped open. “ Well I’ll be damned. You know, you kinda favor Luke a
little. “ The old man limped down the stairs with his hand extended “ Bill
Bradford, “ he said. They shook hands and the boy turned to the woman. “ And
you must be Nola. “
“ None other, “ she said with a smile. “
My, you do look like Luke. It’s almost…
spooky, the
resemblance. “
“ And you’re
as beautiful as Grandaddy described, ma’am. “
Nola waved
away the compliment with an appreciative smile and blushed and poked at her
hair.
Bill chuckled.
“ Looks like you inherited more from Luke than just your looks. “
Ben laughed. “ I was really
close to Granddaddy…’specially toward the end. “
Bill’s lips
tightened and he sighed. “ Wish I coulda been there. It happened so sudden,
though, you know…”
Nola changed
the subject. “ Well, I was just makin’ supper, and there’s plenty
for everybody, so you men just sit down and
palaver while I go finish up. How ‘bout some
iced tea, Ben? “
“ Yes ma’am.
That would be great, thank you. “
Bill sat down in his chair and
motioned to one of the other chairs. “ Pull up one of
those chairs a
little closer, Ben. My hearing’s not what it used to be. “
Ben screeched a heavy, iron lawn chair across the porch and
sat down. He hung
his
hat on the chair arm and said, “ beautiful place you got, Mister Bradford. “
“
Thanks. It’s gettin’ to be a little more than I can handle, but I wouldn’t give
it up for
anything. And
just call me Bill, ok? “
The boy smiled and looked down at
his hands, then looked up and said,
“ Granddaddy
always called you Weed. “
Bill chuckled
and sniffed. “ Well, that was a long time ago, when I was a
rollin’ tumbleweed. Nobody calls me
that now. Hardly even Nola. “
“ Granddaddy always spoke the name with respect…reverence
almost. Mind if I
call you Weed, sir? “
Bill mused for
a few seconds and said, “ Naw. I guess not. That would be fine, son. “ He
stoked his pipe again and fired it up and then said with a distant cast to his
eye, “ Luke was one of a kind. Like a father and brother and best friend all
rolled up into one. Best friend a man could ever hope for. I could tell you
stories that…well, you wouldn’t believe. “
“ I know, “
Ben said. “ In fact, that’s one of the reasons I’m here. “
Bill
tamped his pipe and lit it again, exhaled a wreathe of blue smoke and
said, “ To
Listen
to me tell unbelievable stories? I don’t talk about the past much, anymore. I
know too many old fools who live in the past to the detriment of the present.
Quickest way I know of to
dig an early
grave. “
“ Well,
there’s one story I am particularly interested in. “
“ Really. And
what might that be? “
Ben’s visage
grew serious, his eyes inquisitive. “ Duncan Canyon,
sir. “
Bill grew silent and stared at the floor for the longest time. He picked the pipe up and fiddled with it and then dropped it back in the ashtray with a clink and looked over at the young man. “ Your Grandaddy told you about that? “
“ Yes, sir.
Just before he died. “
Bill stared vacantly at the sky for moment. Then looked over
at the young man and said, “ Well, I don’t rightly know what to say. You see,
Ben, we all vowed never to tell a soul.
I’m
surprised Luke broke his promise. Not that I give a shit. It doesn’t matter
much now. “
Technically,
he kept his promise, “ Ben said. “ I was at his bedside one night when he was
raging with fever from pneumonia. He was delirious and he blurted out bits and
pieces of the story. I thought it was just wild hallucinations until I dug into
the history books and checked out a few of the details. It seems there once was
a place called Duncan Canyon and then suddenly there wasn’t. It was like it
disappeared from the pages of time. I even found a map and went there and
talked to the old timers but there was nothing left but a jumble of rock and a
few old Indian myths. He said some things that…well, it’s been a mystery that I
can’t get off my mind. It’s been ten years since Granddaddy died and I still
can’t shake it. I was wondering if you could help me clear all this up a
little. “
Bill expelled another long-winded sigh and shook his head. “
Well, I guess it
wouldn’t hurt
anything after all these years. Nola and I are the only ones still living that
made that promise, so it won’t reflect on anyone but us and we don’t give a
damn what people think anyway. Never did. “
Ben smiled. “
I sure would appreciate it, sir. It would help me to better understand some
things about Granddaddy, too. “
Bill nodded
thoughtfully. “ All right, I’ll tell you the story. On two
conditions. “
He leaned forward and looked the young man squarely in the eye.
“ You promise
not to interrupt me with a lot of fool questions and to never repeat it to
another livin’ soul. “
Ben thought it
over for a moment. “ Not even my own son? “
“ Nobody. I
got my friends’ reputations to protect. I don’t want anybody thinkin’ they were
crazy. That’s the way everybody wanted it and far be it from me to go against
their wishes, especially since they’ve all passed on. I never even told my own
sons. Frankly, the only reason I’m gonna relate it to you is ‘cause Luke let
the cat out of the bag accidentally. “
“ All right,
Weed. It’s a deal. “ Ben smiled and offered his hand and they shook on it.
Nola opened the screen door and placed a tray containing two
tall, frosty glasses
of iced tea, a few slices of lemon and a bowl
of sugar.
Bill
stirred some lemon and sugar into his tea, leaned back in the chair, stared out
at the amber clouds accumulating around the setting sun and began his
narration.
“ William Butler Bradford was quite a fancy name for such a footloose, drifter. Folks
knew me as Tumbleweed, or just plain Weed. What I owned was on my body (of which I considered my hoss an extension), or on my mind. I had a six-shooter, a Colt's 45 to be exact, a Winchester rifle, a large skinnin’ knife sharp enough to shave with, two dollars in coin and one change o’ clothes. I owned the hoss but he didn’t have much respect for a bill o’ sale. My boots were down at heel and I had on a blood splattered shirt and a battered, sweat-stained hat that sported two fresh bullet holes. The fact that the bullets that caused those holes missed my head made me feel extremely fortunate despite my financial poverty, ‘cause I was still breathin’ and wearin’ my own hair - two attributes I considered essential to comfort and well bein’... “