Water and Stone (27 page)

It'd been too easy.

Dealing with Church had always been an obnoxious chore so far as she was concerned. Even when he was a boy he grated upon her nerves. Perhaps it was his method of seeing through her in a fashion few others had ever done, or maybe she simply disliked him... either way, she'd be glad when he was dead and buried where no one would ever think to look for his body.

He believed everything she said. Of course she'd groomed him to do so from the time she arrived at the chabola and took over the daily chores of watching the boy while Yani spent her days working at the hacienda for a man who'd not only deflowered her but abandoned her in the bargain.

If she didn't need Yani she would've dispatched all of them by now. It hurt her to think the girl was capable of trying to kill her... she knew it was her sister who was firing the gun in the night with scant regard for anyone's safety.

The fresh blood dripping through the ceiling of the cellar told her that Billy'd been hit. He was useless to her now anyway... even if he survived the bullet wound she'd have to quell the charm she put upon him. It would take but a breath over sand to do so and as she blew it in his direction she knew the thing planted inside of him had died. It was for the best. If any doctor examined the boy and found what was within him all hell would break loose and not her kind either.

Yani was her only hope. Using Church to lure them away from the chabola had been little more than child's play. The boy had always been receptive to her suggestions even from afar. He probably thought it was really Lorraine Ford visiting him outside the chabola... of course he did... otherwise he wouldn't be coming here now.

He'd soon set the piedra right at her feet just the way she'd foretold. With it she could forge a new life far away from the dusty Texas ranch where she'd spent way too much time catering to the uninitiated.

Cuba beckoned. It wasn't as unthinkable a journey now as it would have been ten years ago though the island was doubtlessly still a poverty-stricken place shunned by most of the civilized world. Then again, perhaps that was just what she needed... a poor place to hide, to cultivate the powers of the piedra.

The island called out to her with its soft Caribbean breezes, the sun-warmed sand between her toes, and the fresh scent of the sea washing over her body. Perhaps the ocean breezes might wash away the odor of disease and death that seemed a continuous if unwanted companion to her for far too long. Even her clothes stunk of it.

She wondered if their ancestral home was still there in Cuba... probably not... and even if it was someone else had doubtlessly taking possession of it. Still, she could put things to right.

Had she underestimated the boy? Was he coming to her or for her? She had to be ready for either eventuality. She was the stronger of the two... any trick he played she would foresee and make adjustments in her actions to nullify the ever-present danger he might pose.

Though he was easy to lead he was hard to read even up close. She noticed it right off on the night he was born. He had a way about him that abbreviated her own skills at probing his psyche making her frustrated and causing her to say things she later regretted. Telling Yani to drown her child was a mistake. It had set the girl at odds with her at the time when she needed her most.

Was that why Yani had tried to kill her tonight? Did she really think a bullet could do what so many others had attempted and failed over the years? She must have emptied a thousand cartridges shooting at the house and failed to hit her mark every time.

It was finally quiet upstairs. Apparently her attackers assumed she had fled the chabola, packed up Billy, and taken him to get medical attention. He must still be alive, otherwise there wouldn't be so much blood. Would Yani admit to shooting the boy? Probably not... they would blame her for the deed, the one woman who had ever done anything of value for Billy.

If they hadn’t attacked the chabola... shooting up the cabin and nearly killing both her and Billy, her plans would've come to fruition within a month. Why couldn’t they just leave them alone? She should've taken Billy back to Mexico where no one could find them.

The thing was, where would they go? In order to insinuate herself into Billy's life and good graces she'd traded her whorehouse for a rundown piece of property not worth a quarter of what she gave for it. Billy had been ecstatic, however... apparently his father had been after that land for decades.

Like all children the boy was forever seeking to impress parents that didn’t give a good potter's dam for him... if they had, father and mother would have taken him away from the disease known as Texas. They had the ways and means to provide a good life for the boy. Instead, they allowed him to be dragged down into the mire of poverty inhabited by vagabonds and ne'er do wells like Church and Yani.

Still, she knew enough to realize how Mexico could be a dangerous place for those without a roof over their heads or pesos in their pockets and she had little in the way of money. No, it was better to stay in Texas. Something must have set Yani off, otherwise the girl would've never mounted an assault on the chabola.

It was Rancher Ford's illness. Yani must have figured out that he contracted it after his last visit to the cabin... that Evalena was behind it all. The girl wasn’t as stupid as she took her for... she would have to take more care in the future when dealing with her, if indeed the future portended such happenings.

"I should have killed her when I had the chance."

As she spoke she heard the sound of light footsteps overhead. Someone had entered the cabin and they were more than likely looking for her. Was it Yani come back to finish what she started?

The hinges of the trap door to the cellar creaked the way they did when it was opened. A set of boots appeared on the top step, men's shoes. It wasn’t Yani so it had to be Church. He had come just as he promised.

"Tia? Are you still down here?"

"Yes, boy... are you by yourself?"

"I'm alone, Tia. It's safe to come up now."

Something in the boy's voice set her nerves on edge. He was lying. Church should have known better by now... she always saw right through his deceptions.

"Do you have what I told you to bring, Church?"

"Yes, Tia, I have it here."

"Throw it down the stairs. When I see it then you'll have the reward I promised to you."

"Okay, Tia... here you go."

An object tumbled through the air before lodging in the sandy floor. It wasn’t what she expected and the sound of running footsteps on the floor above alerted her to the danger before she could make out what he had thrown... four cylinders about a foot long and taped together along with perhaps the most distressing part: the sparkle in the dark.

It was a bomb and the fuse was burning too quickly for her to reach before it exploded. She had always known death was stalking her. Even though she'd successfully eluded its grasp for centuries she also knew one day it'd reach out with its icy grasp, pull her in, and there'd be nothing she could do but accept her fate.

Had the day finally arrived? Looking about the cellar there was no safe place, not even a crease in the walls where she might seek shelter from the blast. Besides, the entire shack would cave in upon her anyway once the supports were blown away.

It wasn’t fair. She didn’t deserve to die like a caged beast trapped in its own fear. On the other hand, death meant nothing... it was only a pause, a short respite, and soon she'd be back again drawn to those she both hated and loved.

It was strange how she often had trouble separating those emotions. Perhaps in time she'd learn what it meant not to yearn for that which wasn’t destined but now, only anger remained.

The anger brought a memory to the surface... a way to escape when all avenues were sealed... she'd only to see the lines with her dark eye and to dream of a place and wake there. But was there time?

He never knew a body could be so tired.

It was as pretty an autumn morning as he could remember but the drive into Guthrie caused his eyes to close, though he wasn’t quite sleeping... at least he didn’t think so. Suddenly though, instead of Yani, Lorraine was right beside him. They were no longer riding in the Jeep... instead they were back at the little shack where they first met ages ago and she was as young as a spring shower and he couldn’t help but smile at how she was wearing one gray shoe and one black.

Since her death he'd dreamed of her often though most times she was as he remembered her when she left him to go east never to return, ungainly and fat and old before her time. He was startled to see how pretty Lorraine really was, or perhaps the distress in her voice was more fetching than it should have been under the circumstances.

"You can't kill her, Rancher."

"Who are you talking about, Lorraine?"

"You know who I'm talking about, Rancher. Listen to me... if you kill Evalena, you'll die along with her. She holds the key to your salvation and to Billy's as well. You must do your best to keep her alive."

"I don’t even know where she is... how am I suppose to help Evalena survive?"

He suddenly realized it wasn’t Lorraine at all... the face morphed into something hideous and obscene and when he screamed out in terror a hand long dead reached out to grab hold of him pulling him down into the cold and the quiet earth where he was finally at peace.

Waking from his half remembered nightmare he looked across the seat at Yani so intent on the road and looking as wondrous as the day she first arrived at the ranch along with a pack of vagabonds seeking work and a place to shelter from the storms of life raging around them.

He'd always wanted to be buried on the Triple Six. Many of his friends and even his own wife had often told him how he didn't belong on a ranch in the middle of the most barren countryside ever created but he loved it there. Ever since the day he leaped out of that box car and sauntered into Guthrie he felt he was finally home.

He recalled everything about that day. The sun wasn’t even up yet but the soil and the pavement were warm under his bare feet as he danced along Main Street inhaling the fresh morning air and loving his freedom. The raging maniac known as his father was a thousand miles behind him and his mother too and though Rancher hadn’t a penny in his pockets he felt renewed and ready for the grand adventure called life.

When the people he met asked his name and he said Rancher they invariably laughed at him thinking he had made it up to use as a nick name. It didn’t matter what they thought so he let them keep on thinking it. Later when the rain stopped and they needed to sell out they weren’t shy about calling him by that name, however.

"What does ruthless mean, father? Some of the boys at school said how you steal people's land... how you give them barely enough money to leave town and take the farms they've lived on their entire lives."

Billy had come home his first day of school with a ripped shirt, a black eye, and questions about his father's business dealings. Apparently some of the neighbor boys were enlightening his son as to the father's many and sordid sins.

His own father back in Indiana had been good enough to teach Rancher the manly art of fighting. Many were the times the boy had been knocked to the floor after absorbing one of his father's blows to his body. One time the man had stood over him smiling and opening the palm of his hand revealed to Rancher one of his secrets. Now, he shared it with his own son.

"Some people don't have the sense to pour sour piss out of their boot before putting it on, Billy. Those boys telling you stories and beating on you have fathers who never realized what a hard and unforgiving land this place can be.

"They expected someone to come along and just hand them all they ever wanted. When they found out that wasn’t going to happen, they started to blame other people... men like me who've worked their whole lives to acquire the things they desired, things like a nice home and a place large enough to sustain them.

"Now listen to me, Billy... tomorrow I want you to take a roll of pennies with you. Here... put this in your pocket. So when those boys come after you again... and they will... stick your hand in your pocket, take that roll of coins in your hand, and make a fist around it. Pick out the biggest and meanest boy of all and hit him squarely on the nose."

He never knew if the boy took his advice but he did notice Billy never came home bruised and battered again. Was he ruthless? Maybe he was but he knew what he wanted and he went after it fair and square. He'd never cheated a man out of anything though he did pay rock bottom prices it was true.

Rancher Ford often wondered if he was merely attempting to please his asshole of a father even years after news of the old man's death reached him... someone had sent a clipping of an obituary from out east proclaiming the man was dead... he never found out who it was but he always suspected it was Hank.

Hank Jordan had rescued him. It was unlikely anyone else would have taken in an underage and starving boy from Indiana, given him a job and a place to sleep, and taught him a trade. And how had he paid Hank back? By stealing his property at a dime on the dollar... it wasn’t right but there it was.

The act still haunted him even now as he lay dying. Or perhaps it was on account of the dying that the old memories were rushing back washing over him like the flash floods that often ravaged the parched lands.

"You did me dirty, old partner... I never thought I'd live to see the day."

Hank seemed to grow old right before his eyes that year. Nothing had gone right. The big estate he bought up in Winston, Nebraska turned out to be a load of junk. The thing was, Rancher knew it was junk yet he hadn’t said a word to Hank about it. Though he'd been told of the hoax by someone in the know he just stood by and allowed Hank to sink ten thousand dollars into an estate not worth a hundred.

He knew the drug store was going under too but that was common knowledge. Ever since the big pharmacy chain came into Guthrie and opened an outlet everything Hank sold was badly overpriced in comparison. As the customer base dried up like a Texas summer Rancher had noticed Hank himself manning the counter in an effort to save the cost of employees but he also knew it was simply a matter of time before Hank approached him.

Not too much later the bank that Hank had a stake in went under. Apparently there was talk of malfeasance and the grand jury was convened to look into Hank's involvement. After the bank failed the whole house of cards came tumbling down. The man appeared at the new hacienda late one night with his car packed and the deeds for all his properties in his hands.

He could have been more generous with the man. Rancher's ranch was one of the few in the county that was actually thriving and after marrying Lorraine he had access to her vast fortune as well. Still, he had been miserly with Hank offering him a pittance for the man's life's work. No one else was buying and Rancher knew it. So did Hank.

Not long after he received in the mail the obituaries concerning the deaths of his father and mother, Rancher Ford heard of Hank's demise. Rumor had it that the man had moved back east taking a job as a black jack dealer at a casino on the lake in Gary, Indiana. The story went that a customer caught Hank dealing from the bottom of the deck and before security could stop him had pulled out a snub-nose .38 and shot the dealer between the eyes.

Rancher Ford told himself that some men weren’t meant to be high rollers and Hank Jordan was one of them but it was poor consolation for his conscience. The thing was, he had grown used to taking advantage of the downtrodden, even those he knew and loved, like Hank Jordan.

There came a moment when he realized he was no longer breathing. It seemed a strange thing, to shelve the need he'd felt all his life, to put it away like a bad habit. He wondered in passing if he should be afraid of what was happening to him. But it was so still that it seemed a shame to disturb the silence with something as mundane as a breath. Besides, the effort seemed more than he could muster.

Was this what it was to die?

The world that had grown so small suddenly opened up before him like a dark Texas sky on fire with stars and planets and if he looked long enough he was sure he could see eternity.