These Is My Words (13 page)

Jimmy said he was finding out who bought and sold horses, and when he needed to hire a good wrangler, who to ask for later on. I declare, he doesn’t seem that old, but he acts like he has been doing this all his life. I just didn’t realize that Albert and him were paying attention to the horse business with Papa. Ernest was who I always talked to, and who always had time to talk. Maybe Ernest had time to talk because he wasn’t tending to business. Anyway, he is gone to be a soldier and Mama just now is understanding that and is not pleased with him at all.

Just for fun, Jimmy said, since we have to stay a couple of days, we will eat at a restaurant and sleep in a hotel on the last night we are here, but he said not the Cosmopolitan, as he heard it was a dirty place, and we drove past it and looked and he was right. Then we drove to the Carillo Gardens, which is a pretty park they have made, with shade trees and a pond with brown and white ducks swimming by. It was a lovely place and we stayed all afternoon in the cool shade of some trees, and had a picnic lunch there that Jimmy went and bought. A Mexican lady came by selling little sweet cakes, and I bought some, three for a nickel, and we split the extra one. When I brushed the crumbs off my dress, a little duck came right up and picked the grass clean in a minute!

We did indeed eat a steak dinner at a little restaurant called Levin’s and it was pretty good but the pie doesn’t hold a candle to what we make at home. Later on that place got too jumpy for me with wild dancing and although there were lots of young men there to choose from, I decided there was a train load of avarice in the room and didn’t feel good about being there so we left.

July 4, 1882

A letter came from Ernest at last, early today, by way of a long-legged Cavalryman named Elliot. We planned on the Raalles to come by for supper so I had ironed my blue dress to be ready, but I was wearing an old one. Captain Elliot rode up and just at that minute, Savannah came to me with a fresh bucket of milk and stepped a little sideways and slopped that milk all over me. Then she says, Oh, my, I’m so sorry, Sarah. I’ll do it up for you.

But I said it was all right, I figured to wear the other work dress that was out on the line.

And she said, Oh dear, you can’t, because you see a wind came up and whipped that dress right out of the clothespins, and it is covered with mud so you’ll have to wear the new one. Then she says, I’ll do up these others for you because I feel so bad about it.

But she didn’t sound sorry one bit, and as I was putting on the new dress, I heard her a singing out loud like I would never do if I had just taken on extra washing and ironing. She has got a twinkling look in her eye today.

Mama said, Must be the baby making her just a bit flighty. As she said that she pushed me in the house to change and offered Captain Elliot the rocker on the porch.

When I came back, he said he rode out here because we have been waiting to know about our kin. Ernest’s letter didn’t say much at all, though:

Dear Folks, I am doing fine and stay busy. I was expecting to fight Indians but there is a shortage of men who can shoe a horse, and since Papa taught me which side of the horse the nails go in, I have been made the post blacksmith. I have whittled up another wooden leg, and the doctor is saving my old one in case someone else can use it. If there is an Indian campaign I will go along to shoe horses and fix wheel rims and such. Hope all is well. Yours truly, Private Ernest Prine, U.S. Cavalry
.

Mr. Raalle came by for dinner because it is the Fourth of July, and brought fried chicken he had made. Little Melissa seems to be growing out of her clothes, and Mama offered to make her up some last when she saw him, so he has brought some yard goods, too, and many thanks in advance. Mama measured up Melissa and hugged her, and they both seemed to be having a fine time. We had some watermelons just barely ripe enough to pick, and squash, and a recipe I got from Mrs. Maldonado called pollo y maiz. There was no way around having to ask Captain Elliot to stay for supper, and he did stay, without even politely refusing.

Later we saw a little dust on the road, and Harland said, Look’s like Jimmy’s coming over. After a bit Jimmy rode up on his fine stallion and said hello to every one. When he shook hands after being introduced to Captain Elliot, you would have thought there was dry lightning in the air, why you could nearly see sparks fly between them. Jimmy got all tight in the jaw and red in the throat like I’ve never seen him before, and Captain Elliot’s eyes made that grey flashing like when he was ready to fight. I swear I don’t know what gets into men. It is like putting two roosters in the same coop and feathers are bound to fly. I know my brothers could scrap over nothing and come up bloody, then help each other dust off, and it appears those two could go at it without a word said between them. They’ve just met, for goodness’ sake. It wouldn’t be much of a fight, though. I think Jimmy is pretty scrappy but I have seen Captain Elliot strike like he was ten men.

Suddenly, Captain Elliot said it was getting late, and he had a long ride ahead, so he begged our leave and saddled right up.

Mama stood up and said, Will you take some of that pie for the ride? We’ve got plenty. Harland, fill the Captain’s canteen. Sarah, go fetch the Captain some of that pie.

Yes, Ma’am, I said. I didn’t hear what he answered, but I didn’t want to argue with my mama. I went into the kitchen, and turned around and there he was behind me, strapping on his gun belt and fixing his uniform straight. When I got the pie wrapped carefully in brown paper, I turned to hand it to him.

That rascal grabbed my hand, pie and all, and leaned down quick and kissed my lips! Then he straightened up and took the smashed pie, and said Thank you, Miss Prine. And he left. Just like that.

I felt like my shoes were glued to the floor, and a hot, heavy feeling ran through me, and all I could do was put my hands against my mouth and feel my fingers tremble. After a while, Mama called me, and I answered that I was washing up the pie plate, but that was a lie. I went in the bedroom and took Mama’s little looking glass up and studied my face. It didn’t look like the face of a girl who kissed men on the lips. Actually, I didn’t do any of the kissing, and it was no more a little kiss than Mama would give on my cheek, but I sure forgot all my hearty rebuffs, caught off guard like that.

It appears we will enjoy fireworks from heaven tonight, as it got dark early and the lightning started overhead in long sheets through the heavy clouds. Then a dust cloud came up, and after it a hard rain. The first raindrops came down on the tail of the dust ball, falling like mud drops on everything and turning the world brown. Then I thought about Captain Elliot riding in that storm. Maybe he will have sense enough to hunker down somewhere and wait it out. Serves him right, I suppose.

While we watched from the windows, Jimmy said he is pretty sure Rose is in foal. He brought his mouth harp tonight, and wanted to sit by me. It is sure easier to sit next to Jimmy than Jack Elliot. It doesn’t feel all jittery and nervous, just easy. I wondered if Jimmy wanted to kiss me. I wondered if he would try.

July 5, 1882

All the men slept at one wall and the ladies in Albert and Savannah’s room. When I got up to start a fire for coffee and feed the animals, Jimmy was up already and out. The land smelled good and clean and wet and cool. Jimmy and I did the feeding and brought up water from the well. He even drew up some extra water for washing later. When I asked him why, he said he saw some trees overblown by the wind and my brothers will be out working and muddy, and there will be washing later. I smiled at him and said he was pretty smart, then he laughed a little at me and said I always sure looked sparkly in the morning. That made me blush, I know, but I liked hearing it.

Jimmy said my horse Terry needed shoes and it was too bad Ernest wasn’t around, but he could do it for me so I said fine, I’d trade him something, and did he need some sewing? Well, he said he’s just going to think about it, and wouldn’t be in a hurry to collect. I wondered if he wanted a kiss right then, but he didn’t say any more. By that time we were in the house with the water, and Albert looked up at us real queer, and said What have you two been up to?

Well, I said, Albert Prine, we’ve been fetching water and what else would you think? But he just looked back and forth at Jimmy and me as if we were strangers for sure.

I don’t know what was ailing Albert, and he never would say. Then it seemed to me that maybe I haven’t been careful enough to seem as purely above reproach as The Happy Bride book said. But Jimmy has been around for years and we have all worked side by side all that time. Why would he think it is different now? It was just work, there was no sign he even thought about kissing me at all. It must be he is a real gentleman.

July 8, 1882

The Maldonado children all passed through the measles just like Harland except for the littlest one, they call Yoyo, which is short for Yolanda. She seems to be failing and has not kept anything down for sixteen days today. Mama was over there yesterday with Harland by her side to make sure of the language, but when she came home she said she sure didn’t know what to do for Yoyo. Yoyo breathes all right, but has spots in her mouth and everywhere, and vomits day and night no matter what they do or give her and she is thin as a little lizard.

July 10, 1882

Today is Yolanda’s fourth birthday and we laid her in her tiny grave with flowers and a rag doll her mama made. She looks like a dried up, pretend child, not real at all. I have never seen a child so starved and sick. All are sad but relieved that her suffering is ended.

Papa Maldonado started making her a coffin yesterday, and it is carved with little birds on it flying towards heaven with a little angel behind them. Only her mama cannot leave her and rocks and moans by the grave which has a little fence around it to save her from coyotes and such. Mama stayed with her at the grave, and the Maldonados and Raalles are here in the house and some of their other friends that I don’t know.

After a couple of hours the children begin playing. They just cannot be sad too long, it is not in them, as children mourn in little bits here and there like patchwork in their lives.

Mrs. Maldonado at last began walking back to the house. The Maldonados have the biggest mesquite tree I have ever seen, and just as they came to the garden gate under it, down to her feet flew a little dove like she had called it there. She made a cry like she had a pain, and pointed, and everyone got quiet for a second. Then the little dove flew up, up, over the house and out of sight fast. Mrs. Maldonado fainted away. Then there was so much fussing I felt like I was in the way. So I walked out to their stock fence where it was quiet.

Just as I imagined, the troughs were empty and their brindled cow looked at me pained and lowed. I went and filled her trough and while she was drinking like she was scorched, I milked her before she would bust a teat and took the milk back in the house. Then I found her some grain and a sheaf of hay, and as I was about to close up the gate, there was Jimmy standing right behind me. I just wanted to be helpful, I said.

Well, he lowered the bar for me and said he understood, and he was leaving, and would I like to ride home on his buckboard with him? So I did.

On the way home he said he knew how I could pay him for the horse shoeing and he asked me could he hold my hand. So he did. I didn’t mind. Nobody has held my hand since I was a little bitty girl. There is a real comfort in it. Jimmy’s hands were hard and leathery, just like Papa’s were. He’s not any taller than I am, but he’s strong and his hands seem so big. It made me warm inside.

July 12, 1882

Harland has drawn a big picture of a grand house and I told him it was fine and we put it on the wall with some little nails. He is real proud. He reads pretty well and draws a good picture, and talks Mexican like he was a native. Our neighbors call him Arlando.

Savannah came in from pulling weeds this afternoon and said she had a pulled feeling in her back, and needs to rest. She looked peaked, so I began filling the washtub for her to take a cool soak.

When Savannah stood up from her cool bath she suddenly called out Sarah! and a big splash of water ran off her into the tub and she grabbed her sides. I hurried quick and dried her off, and she began to cry a little. Oh Sarah, she said, I am scared the baby is coming. So I helped her into her nightdress and ran to fetch Mama.

Mama was right there by the chicken coop, and said, yes, that water was a sign, and sent Harland to tell Albert and then on to fetch Mrs. Maldonado, as she knows how to have lots of children.

Later, I tried not to think of Mrs. Barston, but Savannah started to struggle, and I began to worry and shake all over. That awful pained sound coming from Savannah was like a knife that cut into me, and she cried out Mother, help me! I am dying! But then, she gave one more long, terrible push and a moan, and there in Mama’s hands on a white towel was a wiggly, wet baby boy.

Mrs. Maldonado began to cry happy tears, and Mama, and me too, and I hugged Savannah and ran to tell Albert.

It was strange to run out into the evening, as I had no idea the time had passed and the late clouds were rolling in and smelled like rain coming again. Albert was so white in the face he looked like a ghost, and holding tight to the fence post like it was the only thing keeping him standing up. He saw me coming and I thought he would perish on the spot. Come in the house, Papa Albert, I called. You have a baby boy!

He sort of stumbled away from the post and I had to laugh at him. Then he grabbed my shoulders and said, Is Savannah alive? All is well. And Clover Jeremiah Prine is a sturdy boy with a loud voice.

I took Bear and Toobuddy and a rifle, and since I don’t want to cinch Rose because she is expecting too, I went bareback on her over to Jimmy’s to tell him the news.

July 13, 1882

After Jimmy got done scolding me for coming to his place alone after dark, he was happy about the baby. But he kept up for a long time about Apaches and cowboys and other outlaws, and didn’t I know how to be scared and careful, and all.