Echoes of a Distant Summer (17 page)

For the next seven weeks, Jackson spent nearly every day with Carlos, sometimes leaving the house early in the morning before his grandfather departed and returning late at night. Each morning, the woman who had brought him the breakfast while he was recuperating came in to cook a hearty meal. His first week was spent learning to use and care for his rifle. Shooting came easily to Jackson. He practiced target shooting on cans and small rodents. He was taught to field-strip and clean his rifle. Next, he learned to set traps for rabbits, quail, roadrunners, and armadillos. He was taught to find evidence of different kinds of animals by checking the feces and their tracks. During the fourth week, he learned to build a smokeless fire, and how to skin and gut small game in the field. He also learned what seasonings grew wild and what type of vegetable matter could be digested by man.

At the end of the summer, Jackson’s skin was tanned and sun hardened. He had grown leaner from physical exertion. He and Carlos explored the area throughout the nearby foothills and ravines surrounding the cottage. Sometimes they hiked as far as twenty-five miles from the village. They took only salt, tortillas, and canteens of water with them. They lived off the land, eating only that which they could forage, catch, or kill. It was one of the most thrilling experiences that eight-year-old Jackson could imagine: walking the desolate land with a
knife in his belt and a rifle in his hands. He was an avid learner and he sucked in the information that Carlos gave him.

On the last day that Carlos was to spend with him, they were sitting around a small fire, roasting a rabbit which Jackson had shot and cleaned. An old mesquite provided partial shade from the omnipresent sun. To the north and east of them lay the dry, red, furrowed foothills which were the beginning of the southern branch of the Sierras. To the south lay the blue-green ravines and arroyos leading to the village, the colors supplied by sagebrush and desert shrubbery. And fifteen miles to the west was the shimmering presence of the Sea of Cortez. It was some of the most beautiful country Jackson had ever seen.

Carlos prodded him with a foot and nodded his head toward the rabbit, indicating that it needed to be turned on the makeshift spit. Jackson responded quickly, adjusting the rabbit so that the backside cooked.

“You have learned much, Wolf Cub,” Carlos observed, watching his young companion.

Jackson nodded his head appreciatively. He very much wanted to earn Carlos’s respect and affection. No one since his father had treated him as well.

“Next week, you’ll return to San Francisco and civilization,” Carlos commented, still watching him. “How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t know,” Jackson answered slowly, nudging a large beetle with his foot. The insect climbed on top of his shoe and stopped to take stock of its whereabouts, waving its antennae. Jackson put his hand down and let the beetle crawl up on his finger. He held his finger in front of his face to inspect the insect more closely. “This has been the best and the worst summer of my life.”

Carlos nodded understandingly. He did not intrude further. He looked at the shadows on the hills and figured it was about one in the afternoon. “You know, about fifty years ago, this area was the home of some of the most notorious banditos that ever lived.”

“Really?” Jackson asked with interest, flicking the beetle off his finger.

“Yes,” Carlos confirmed. “A band of men could hide in these hills and ravines for years and never be found. There are endless canyons and arroyos around here and many of them have water.”

“Really?” Jackson asked again. “How did you find me when I was sick? How did you know where to look?”

“We didn’t. Your grandfather threatened to burn down the whole village if we didn’t find you. So, we had a lot of volunteers. Your tracks were discovered by the creek. We just spread out from there, checking every ravine and canyon in the area.”

“I thought that he would be happy to get rid of me,” Jackson said, pulling his knife from its sheath. He began sharpening it with his whetstone as he had been taught.

Carlos shook his head. “You are the most important person in El Negro’s life.” Carlos smiled wryly. “He would have hung the owner of the store and burned the village to the ground if you had not been found.” Jackson said nothing. He continued to sharpen his knife. Carlos realized that Jackson did not believe him. “Your grandfather is a hard man who grew up in hard times. He does not express affection well, but he is one of the best friends that a man can have. He will wade into a pack of wolves for you, if he takes you as his friend.”

Jackson heard Carlos’s words but did not respond. All he remembered was the beating that he had received in front of the whole village. The physical pain was insignificant compared with the humiliation which he felt. He knew that he would never forget, and forgiveness was an act far beyond his eight-year-old consciousness.

C
reighton Bedrosian was a round-faced, pink-skinned, chunky man of average height. His brown hair and mustache were peppered with gray. He wore rimless glasses over his pale blue eyes, which gave his face a quaint appearance. But there was nothing quaint about Creighton Bedrosian. He was a man with agendas. He had been the city manager for the City of Oakland for nearly five years and he was now ready to move on. He was under consideration for two different city managerships in larger municipalities.

He began rifling through the papers on his desk, looking for the materials that he would need for the meeting. The list of council resolutions was incomplete. There were several city council subcommittee
meetings scheduled for six that evening. Creighton detested late council work; it reflected badly on him as the administrator of the city council agenda. He gritted his teeth. Someone was going to get his butt kicked. Then, of course, there was that little matter of the mayor’s surprise resolution on a Citizen Review Commission Over Police Activities. Yes, someone was definitely going to get his butt kicked. He gathered up the printouts and left his office for the conference room. Creighton seated himself at the head of the conference table and began reviewing his notes. He was working on his strategy to deal with Jackson when Howard Gomes entered the room.

Howard sat down at the table next to Creighton with a smile and a quick nod of his head. He was a tall, angular man with straight black hair, prominent cheekbones, and a beak for a nose. His small brown eyes were set deep in his face, giving him a ferretlike appearance. There was a trace of a New York City accent when he spoke.

“How’s it going, boss?” Howard asked, dropping his file onto the table in front of him. He wore an expensive designer suit with casual arrogance.

Creighton looked him up and down intently. “New suit?”

“No, I bought it last year,” Howard said, fingering the lapel. “The tie is new. I got it last night.”

Creighton picked up a sheaf of papers and tapped them on the table, attempting to align the sides. “You spend too much money on clothes. Watch out, or I’ll think you’re going ethnic on me.”

“Hell, I’m as ethnic as a burrito and beans, a bar mitzvah, or a pizza.”

Bedrosian warned, “Just don’t let it get to chitterlings and collard greens.”

“No worries!” Howard chuckled in response then asked, “Did you ever come to a decision about who you want to fill the graffiti-abatement position?”

Bedrosian looked up. “No, why?”

“Why don’t you let Elsa handle it?” Howard paused, searching for the right words. “She’s in between project assignments and it would result in a significant salary savings. You could put her up in Montclair.”

“Not in this political climate! You obviously didn’t listen to council testimony. The position has to start work on East Fourteenth. What’s a nice Protestant girl from Minnesota going to do with a bunch of community activists from Little Soweto in east Oakland?”

“Her legs will dazzle them. She has one fine pair of legs.”

“I guess you’ve seen them up close and personal?”

Howard answered with a wide grin.

Bedrosian shook his head with a rueful smile. “I’m always coming to bail you out.”

“Hey, if you want to bail me out of something, transfer this municipal classification study to someone else. This is a thousand-headed monster. You’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t.”

“What did you offer to shut the union up?”

“I told them if this study isn’t complete by 1988, we would pay retroactive pay for every day after that until the study was complete, if the reclassification resulted in an increase in pay. And, I also agreed that the union would have approval agreement over all their specific job classifications.”

“Damn! Howard, are you a fool? That could take years!”

“You said to come out of the meeting without a strike. I had to give up something. Otherwise, the big two would have gone out on strike.”

“Damn!” Bedrosian shook his head grudgingly. “Who do you think would want this assignment?”

“I don’t know. Give it to Superboy.” Howard gestured to Jackson, who was just opening the door.

“Good morning,” Jackson said as he pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. He hadn’t heard Howard’s comment. He stated, “I didn’t know the purpose of this meeting, so I brought papers related to the progress of all my assignments.”

Bedrosian nodded at him then asked Howard, “I believe your administrative assistant was responsible this week for assembling the list of council resolutions for subcommittee review?”

Howard stared at the table as he spoke. “She couldn’t complete the assignment because three resolutions weren’t available.”

Bedrosian demanded, “What do you mean three resolutions weren’t available?”

Howard looked at Jackson apologetically. “I couldn’t find Jackson’s three resolutions on the new recreational facility, the municipal bond sale, and the Canalea Development contract. I checked with Martha and she hadn’t received them. I even checked on his computer for the resolutions. No luck.”

Bedrosian looked at Jackson and had a difficult time keeping a smile
off his face as he said, “Those are about the three most important resolutions on the agenda.”

Howard interjected smoothly, “Since we couldn’t find your resolutions,” he nodded to Jackson, “I was concerned about making tonight’s subcommittee meeting agenda. So, I helped Elsa draft up some new ones. We brought them for your review.” Howard slid a sheaf of papers across the table to Jackson.

Jackson said nothing. He was furious. This was the third time in recent weeks that an unusual problem had cropped up in one of his critical assignments.

“Well?” Bedrosian asked, waiting for an explanation. He was hoping that Jackson was actually late in the three assignments, but it occurred to him that Jackson might well have completed the resolutions and that Howard had done something to erase them. Bedrosian prodded Jackson, “What do you have to say?”

The faint smile on Bedrosian’s face further infuriated Jackson. He knew that the city manager would not be unhappy if there was an assignment over which he could take Jackson to task. He had implied several times in the past that Jackson needed to be taken down a couple of notches. When Jackson spoke, he contained himself. “That assignment was complete before I left work Thursday evening,” he said evenly. He flipped through the pages that Howard had passed to him. “But before I produce proof, I want to direct a question to Mr. Gomes.”

“This is not a court of law; let’s dispense with the inquisition,” Bedrosian said with a listless laugh. “Does the copy in front of you contain all the necessary elements?”

Jackson wondered how his grandfather would respond in his place and then he felt something snap within him as he turned to Bedrosian. “This is important to me.” Although he had not raised his voice, there was an edge in his tone which cut across everyone’s consciousness. “I want to clear myself of any inferences that I have not performed my duties in a timely manner. I think it is imperative that it be revealed that Mr. Gomes and his assistant are liars. And not very good ones.”

Bedrosian was shocked. In the four years that Jackson had been a deputy he had never once caused a social breach like this. There was no way Bedrosian could avoid entangling himself in this unpleasant situation. Jackson had made a statement which could not be ignored. Plus, there was a dangerous hostility in Jackson’s voice which caused Bedrosian
to unconsciously distance himself from it. He sputtered, “Ah, ah, I’m sure that your words were a little strong and that you would be open to offering an apology to Howard, now wouldn’t you?”

Howard said with false graciousness, “Let’s drop it. I’m sure it’s all a mix-up. I know Jackson wouldn’t mess up on an assignment that was this important.”

“You’re right!” Jackson confirmed with a grim smile. “I gave the completed resolutions to Angelica Winston. She entered them in the resolution log and distributed them to the members of the development services subcommittee, parks and rec council, and the council budget committee.” Angelica was the office manager and the matriarch of the clerical staff. She was the city manager’s right hand and a stickler for perfection. If she had entered it into the log, it was unquestioned that the resolutions were submitted on time.

Howard said weakly, “You didn’t follow procedure. You’re supposed to give the original copy for resolutions to Martha.…” His voice trailed off. He recognized the futility of continuing.

“I did,” Jackson said. “But it seems that you and your colleague devised a way to erase their existence.”

“This is absurd!” Howard snarled. “No one has time to involve themselves in your affairs.” Howard looked to Bedrosian for assistance. “Do I have to put up with this nonsense?”

Bedrosian stood up for emphasis and addressed Jackson. “I think you better apologize to Howard for these unsupported remarks, don’t you?”

Jackson could not contain himself. He stood up as well and stated clearly, “I think not. An investigation would support my contentions.”

Bedrosian was now astounded. Nobody, particularly a black person, had ever confronted him as Jackson was now doing. “You refuse to apologize?” he questioned incredulously.