Old Wounds (22 page)

“Look at this! I’d forgotten all about my horse collection.” Rosemary had a cardboard shoe box open on the floor beside her. One by one she was pulling out little bundles of what looked suspiciously like toilet tissue. She began to unwind the yellowing wrappings.

“It’s Fireboy!” A small, improbably bright red plastic horse was revealed and set upright on the floor. Eagerly, Rosemary began to unwrap the next bundle. It turned out to be an identical horse, but this one pure white.

“Snow Stepper!” Rosemary proclaimed, and reached into the shoe box.

Elizabeth smiled fondly. “Listen, sweetie, Phillip has to go back to his house to pick up some stuff if he’s going to be staying here for a while…till they arrest that guy. I’m going to take him down to his car, okay?”

If Rosie’s colleagues in the English Department could see her now, surrounded by plastic horses. But maybe this is all part of what she needs to do to bring back the other memories she’s so sure are there. I know that most of these things got put away after Maythorn disappeared. It was all stuff they’d both played with, and it was just too painful for Rosie to deal with.

Rosemary looked up and a smile of pure happiness illuminated her face. “Okay, Mum. I’m just going to dig through all this stuff. But I’m going to have to take my time. It’s like…like finding old friends I’d forgotten.”

Elizabeth went carefully down the steep stairs. Behind her she heard Rosemary’s delighted crow: “Silver Star! Midnight!”

C
LETUS

Spring 1986

H
EY, ROSEBUD, GET
your shoes on. We’re going to make a quick trip into Ransom. Mum and Laurie aren’t back yet and I’ve got to take that flat tire in to Jim Hinkley.

Rosie lay on her stomach, arranging the colorful array of plastic horses she had spread out on the living room rug. Some of Laurel’s Legos had been pressed into service as a makeshift corral and throw pillows from the sofa formed a mountain range. Behind the corral’s impenetrable barriers, three mares—Blue Moon, Misty, and Seafoam—moved restlessly back and forth, looking for a way out. The cruel rustlers who had captured them were all asleep, dead to the world after drinking a bottle of whisky apiece, and the fearless stallion Fireboy was leading the rest of the wild horse herd over the mountains in a bold attempt to crash through the walls and rescue
—

Did you hear me, Rosemary? Pa’s big boots were right beside her and he sounded impatient. Get your shoes on right now. Just leave all that stuff, he said, as Fireboy came galloping down the mountain.

Without waiting for her answer, Pa walked toward the door. Quickly Rosemary breached the corral walls and scooped up the three captive mares. Scrambling to her feet, she put them and their rescuer, Fireboy, on the far side of the throw pillows, safe from the sleeping rustlers. There, she whispered. Now if they wake up before I get back, you’ll be safe.

Her sneakers were on the front porch and she hastily shoved her feet into them and hurried down the steps to where Pa was waiting by his truck. A thought struck her.

Pa, have you seen Dinah? She was out all night and I haven’t seen her once this morning.

Pa heaved the flat tire into the back of the truck. Don’t worry, baby; she’ll be back. Hounds just like to run in the woods. Remember, we heard her barking so much last night, like she had something treed? She’s probably basking in the sun somewhere, catching up on all the sleep she missed. He pulled open the door. Hop in. This won’t take long. And your pup’ll probably be here waiting for you when we get back.

As they drove down Ridley Branch, Rosemary kept a close watch for Dinah. She didn’t think that the young hound ever went far from home, but you never knew. Only last week something terrible and unexplained had happened to Maythorn’s pet cockatiel. Most likely a silly accident, Mrs. Barbie had said, but Rosie wasn’t sure.

There’s Miss Birdie and Luther out hoeing their potatoes. Pa tapped the horn and waved at the plump little woman and lean old man, working in their garden patch just the other side of the branch. Wonder where Cletus is? He must be off on one of his hunting trips, roaming the woods like Dinah.

Miss Birdie says “taters,” not “potatoes.” Rosemary stuck her arm out the window and waved too. And she says “maters” and “baccer” and
—

It’s kind of a shortcut, Rosie. Just like people say “fridge” for “refrigerator” or “TV” instead of “television” or—Are we ever going to get a TV? She knew what the answer was, but had to ask, anyway.

I don’t think so, Rosebud. Pa reached across and tickled her knee. There’s not that much on that’s worth watching, and besides, it might take away from your reading time.

He always said this. And it wasn’t worth arguing—from the little TV she’d ever watched, either at Maythorn’s house or when they’d lived in Florida and went to dinner at her Grammer Grey’s condo, she knew that it was mostly stupid and sometimes gross. And the pictures were never as good as the ones in her head.

Look up there, Rosie! I hope your mum sees this when she comes back this way. She’ll love it!

What is it? Is it a carnival or something? Can we stop? In the side yard of a small green house overlooking the road, bright colors of every description flapped and danced in the wind. Pa slowed the truck, and Rosemary realized, with some disappointment, that it was just a bunch of quilts, hanging from clotheslines stretched between big trees. A slender woman in a blue housedress was adding yet another dazzling rectangle to the last empty space. Pink stars spun on a green background as the breeze lifted the quilt. The woman stepped back as if to admire the sight, then, catching sight of their truck, she raised her hand in a friendly wave.

They left the tire at Jim Hinkley’s filling station, and while Jim fixed the tire, Pa took her to the Burger Doodle for lunch. That wasn’t its real name, just what Mum and Pa called it. It was right next to the laundromat and Mum always made a face when Rosie and Laurie wanted to eat lunch there.

Can I have a chili dog? Mum was really picky about what food she would let them get when they ate out and Pa sometimes was the same. But today he just said, Sure, whatever you want. He paid for their order and handed her the slip of paper with their number on it.

When they call twenty-six, can you go get the tray? I’ll be right outside at the payphone. He glanced at his watch. I’ve got to go make a call.

She felt very grown up, sitting alone in the orange booth, and when the lady behind the counter, the one with the net squshing her hair down, called out, Twenty-six! Rosemary went and got the tray and carried it very carefully back to their table. Through the window she could see Pa at the payphone, dialing a number.

The chili dog was delicious—just as she’d imagined it would be. Foot-long, the menu had said, and it was—so long that both ends hung off the paper plate. And so much chili that it spilled out of the big soft bun and left an orange stain on the plate. It was messy to eat and Rosemary pulled napkins one after another from the little black dispenser on the table to wipe her face and fingers.

She had eaten almost all of the chili dog but still Pa hadn’t come to get the BLT sitting forlornly across from her. Rosemary drank the last of her Dr Pepper (another rare treat), wiped her fingers once again, and slid out of the booth.

Pa had his back to her as she came out of the door of the Burger Doodle. The phone was to his ear and he was talking real low. No, she doesn’t know anything about it, he was saying. But I need to see you…soon.

It was almost two o’clock when they got back home. Mum and Laurie were still gone—doctor appointments took a long time, Pa said, even when it was just a checkup. Dinah wasn’t there either. Rosemary looked at the bowl of dry dog food they’d put on the porch last night, but it was still full and the chunks of canned dog food sitting on the top were dry and dark.

You go on back to your horses, Rosebud, Pa said. I’ve got to get started on the mowing. Mum and Laurie’ll be back soon.

Three o’clock and still no Mum and Laurie. No Dinah either. Pa was down near the barn now, following the big noisy mower in a neat pattern. The rich smell of freshly cut grass filled the air.

Rosemary went out to the porch. She tried to imitate Pa’s shrill whistle, but gave up after a few sputtering attempts. Diii-nah, she called. Diii-nah! The lawn mower, though at a distance, was still loud and drowned out her voice. I have to look for her, she decided. I’ll start up in the woods where Dinah was barking last night.

Up the old logging road above the house, climbing steadily higher, stopping now and then to call Dinah’s name, Rosemary went. The mower was still growling in the distance and Mum’s jeep had not yet returned. Finally Rosemary stopped to rest, feeling tired, and a little sick at her stomach. A series of burps reminded her unpleasantly of the chili dog.

She had stopped in a little clearing where the sun shone warmly down, just the kind of place where Pa had said Dinah might be sleeping. Rosemary found a flattish spot and sat down with her back to a big rock. She remembered to look for snakes first, just like Pa and Mum always told her, then she leaned back and closed her eyes.

She awoke feeling cold. The sun had moved and she was in the shade now. And squatting beside her was Cletus. And Dinah! A piece of baling twine was threaded through her collar and the other end was in Cletus’s hand. Dinah’s head was drooping as if she was very tired.

Cletus stared at Rosemary with a strange look. I wondered when you was goin to wake up, he said. I’m fixin’ to cook me some dinner. You kin have some too. He motioned to a little fire burning in a circle of rocks just a few feet away. A shotgun, its wooden stock polished with long use, leaned against a tree.

Cletus’s eyes never left her face. They were red, as if he hadn’t slept, and there was black stubble all over his chin. I catch all kinds of things and cook ’em fer my dinner.

Rosemary felt a little uneasy, as she often did, around this man who talked like a little boy. Slowly, she began to stand. Cletus, let me have Dinah. I need to take her home for dinner.

Cletus made a funny hiccuping kind of sound and she realized that he was laughing.

Dinah’s dinner, Dinah’s dinner, Dinah’s dinner, he chanted, rocking his head from side to side. Then, still staring at Rosemary, he reached into the knapsack that lay on the ground beside him and pulled out a limp gray body. With his other hand he took a jackknife from the bib pocket of his overalls, snapped it open, and made few deft cuts on the little carcass. Wiping the blade on his leg, he closed the knife and returned it to his pocket.