Water and Stone (8 page)

"How old are you, Church?"

"I'm six. How old are you, Hilly?"

"I just turned ten... I like to read too. Tell me about the last book you read, Church."

The boy seemed to be testing him but it was an easy question to answer. He'd just finished a book that both inspired him and filled him with awe... a book of a boy much like him, who started out as a shepherd and ended up learning one of the greatest secrets in the world.

"I just read a story called The Alchemist. Have you heard of it, Billy? It's about a boy who herds sheep in Spain and learns of a treasure in a faraway land called Egypt. The book is all about his adventures searching for that treasure. At the end, he discovers what he's looking for is right at home all along."

"Yes I have heard of it, Church. I've never read it though. Say... that seems like pretty heavy reading for a six year old. Most boys your age can't even read yet. Where did you find that book? Do you go to the library?"

"No... my mother says town is too far away for me to walk by myself and she's never home to take me."

"So where do you get your books from, Church?"

"An old man named Gomez Santiago comes by the chabola sometimes selling things out of the back of his truck... he has clothes and pots and pans and all sorts of things that we need... even books. Mother always buys me some shirts and trousers but never anything for herself. "

"Does she buy you books too, Church?"

"No. I never ask. I know she needs her money. But one day Mr. Santiago saw me looking at the old books that he had stacked in boxes."

"So you buy books from old man Santiago? Is that it?"

"No. I never have any money. I'd like a job like mother but who would hire me? No one... sometimes mother pays me for doing chores around the house but most of her money she needs for food so I hate taking it from her. Usually I slip it back into her wallet when she's asleep."

"I still don’t understand, Church... do you steal the books?"

"I feel like it sometimes but no. One day Mr. Santiago saw me looking at his books. He put three of them in my hands. He said I could give them back to him next time he came around and take three more."

"Wow... that's nice of him."

"Yeah, it is... but they were little kid books. He must have seen the look of disappointment on my face."

"Why were you disappointed, Church?"

"Those books were just full of pictures."

"So they were children's books... don't you like children's books?"

"No, not really."

"So what kind of books do you like, Church?"

"Books like The Wizard of Oz, A Tale of Two Cities, and Moby Dick."

Billy Ford arched his eyebrows at Church as if he couldn't believe such a young boy could read those books by himself.

"Does your mother read them to you, Church?"

"My mother doesn't read all that well, Billy. When I first learned how I wanted to surprise her by reading a book to her but I think I hurt her feelings instead... she told me how there were no schools on the island where she grew up and even if there were her father wouldn't have allowed her to go so she never had the time to learn but a few words. I offered to show her how but she only shook her head and smiled at me."

"I don't understand how you learned to read if your mother didn’t teach you, Church. Who taught you?"

"I learned by myself."

Church shrugged his shoulders. He didn't realize until that moment that a teacher was required for him to be able to read. He didn’t know how to begin telling Billy of all the lonely days and nights he had spent at the chabola while his mother worked at the Triple Six hacienda and how when he was four years old he had discovered the words in the old newspapers that they used for their toilet and how in a flash of insight he realized they corresponded to the words they spoke to one another each day.

He found the alphabet printed on an insert stuffed into one of the old newspapers along with colorful comics. The alphabet was phonetically illustrated showing the sounds each letter made by way of a close up of a cartoon of lips and tongue and how they moved to form the sounds. Oh, the hours he'd spent deciphering the words in those comics by carefully sounding out each letter. It made the time run away and shortened the long nights and stilled the terrors lurking out there in the dense shadows crowding close to the chabola.

That night when the sat down to a usual late dinner of tortillas and beans—mother worked at the hacienda cooking and serving supper to the Ford family so her son had to wait for his food—with a wicked wink of her enormous eye Tia Evalena Gutiérrez asked him how school had been... as if she knew something momentous had occurred.

At first, Church thought of lying. Since he'd been taught never to speak with food in his mouth he chewed his tortilla carefully while weighing how much to say about the events of that morning. Finally he decided to tell his aunt about his new acquaintance though the minute he opened his mouth he knew it was a mistake.

"I made a friend... his name's Billy Ford. He lives at the Triple Six hacienda. We sat together on the bus and he kept another boy from beating me up."

Mother's eyes had widened the way they sometimes did when something caught her by surprise and Church saw Tia shoot a look her way as if to say, see... he knows the truth. When mother spoke it was with slow and measured words meant to subtly dissuade him from seeing Billy Ford again without forbidding it outright.

"I think that's wonderful, Church. Please don't take advantage of that boy, however. He probably prefers being friends with boys his own age. Remember, he's just being nice to you. Tomorrow when you board the bus you must sit with those your own age."

Church supposed he didn’t know anything about the world... a moment ago he thought it was fine that he had made a friend, and now it seemed as if that wasn’t as good a thing as he had heretofore thought it was.

He wondered too how his mother knew Billy was older than him but then he remembered she worked for the family, and he recalled how Billy said his name was actually William. Could he be the reason Church had been given a different name?

Her husband slept around.

Though Lorraine didn't like to think of him in the arms of other women she told herself his extramarital activities saved her from one of the most wearisome and onerous duties of being a wife: submitting to sex, something she disliked so intensely she'd rather Rancher Ford have his bevy of beauties than to bother her even a time or two for a roll in the hay as he was apt to call it.

What upset her more than it should perhaps was how the entire county seemed to be aware of his infidelities. Often times especially in the early evening the phone rang and when she answered whoever called would hang up. She'd begun to eschew shopping or dining in Guthrie for every time she showed herself in a store or the diner all the conversations seemed to go silent. Were they all talking about her?

She'd have liked her husband to keep his affairs a bit more private than he did but Lorraine supposed it had something to do with being a man. Men liked to show off their proclivities. She learned that from her father. He too kept a private harem of ladies that he didn't bother to hide from his daughter.

Knowing that Billy felt sorry for her lent Lorraine the most anguish of it all... the boy didn't deserve to be a party to his father's philandering yet the man seemed to relish parading his women in front of him.

"Where did you and your father go today, Billy?"

It'd been an innocent question yet as soon as the words were out of her mouth Lorraine saw the strain forming around Billy's eyes. She knew exactly what the boy was thinking... should he tell her the truth or should he lie?

"We took a ride around the ranch, mother."

"You were gone a long time for simply riding around the Triple Six, son."

"It's a big place, mother. We're checking fences."

Lorraine knew she shouldn’t pressure the boy but she couldn’t seem to help herself. If Rancher would just tell her the truth she'd accept his indiscretions but the man was too much like a child in that regard... he seemed to enjoy teasing her with innuendo yet was afraid of truly confessing his transgressions.

She'd suffered under the same dilemma as a little girl. Her father was a powerful man. She learned young that his clout had a way of drawing beautiful women to him... perhaps they yearned to share in some small part of his life or maybe he paid them. She never knew for sure... either way, the man loved showing off around his daughter yet expected her to keep his dalliances a secret from her mother.

Now the man she loved did the same thing. Maybe it was her fault. Ir crossed her mind that she wasn't only the reason for her husband's infidelities but her father's as well. They were both attempting to impress her somehow though if they'd asked she might have told them she would've been far more amazed if they'd both been true to their spouses.

They were all beautiful... Rancher's ladies, her father's women... she had to give both men credit for that. Even the little Mexican girl Rancher kept at the old homestead lying at the end of Cherry Creek Road was a looker. Of course she never let on that she knew about Yani. Some things were better left unsaid.

When Rancher first hired her to work at the Triple Six ranch Lorraine nearly objected but something shining in the girl's eyes enchanted her. The girl spoke fluent English as well, a rarity for migrant workers.

"I'm going to Virginia for the winter, Rancher. My father's gearing up for his reelection campaign and asked for my help. Would you like to come with me?"

"I'd love to go, Lorraine... but who'd take care of the ranch? You go... I know how much your presence means to your father. I'll try and fly out on the weekends if I can get away."

She knew he was lying but she appreciated the effort he made to placate her. In all the years they were married Rancher had never taken a vacation or even one day off from working at the ranch.

When the other migrant workers headed south for the winter she couldn’t help but notice Yani stayed on. She imagined how she should have been jealous that Rancher had his eyes on the girl—she could see how his whole being lighted up each time she came around—but she just didn’t care enough to make a fuss over it.

She liked Yani. The girl, neat as an eagle feather, as courteous as a child, and as industrious as any man, toiled from dawn until dusk seven days a week and without complaint even when little Billy took sick and vomited multiple times. The girl seemed to take it as her duty to clean up after him and did so meticulously and tirelessly.

Later when word came to her that the girl had birthed a child Lorraine knew without asking who the father was. Several times she'd come close to broaching the subject with Rancher... perhaps suggesting that he take a little better care of the boy and his mother who for all intents and purposes lived in abject poverty in a house without even the bare essentials like indoor plumbing or electricity.

She knew the shack from when Rancher lived in it when they first met. It struck her at the time that only a confirmed bachelor could abide such conditions yet that was all part of the allure she felt for the man. She was happy when after they were married father gave them the money to build a new house and she didn't have to live in that shanty of a shack on the edge of nowhere.

Somehow it didn’t seem fair to the boy or to his mother to have to abide in such surroundings. They had to go to the bathroom in an outhouse and only the good Lord knew where they took a bath. Many were the times when she nearly spoke out about it to Rancher.

Still, she stayed her tongue. She didn't want Rancher to know that she knew. If he did, he might send the woman and child away. As odd as it seemed there was something comforting knowing they were on the property and under the supervision of the boy's father even though he seemed to ignore them for the most part. Perhaps in time the man might come to see the error of his ways on his own.

"I'm going back east to help your grandfather with his Senate reelection campaign, Billy. Would you like to come along?"

Sometimes it seemed to Lorraine that Senator Townsend was forever running for office and indeed he was. Every six years he faced another up and comer all of whom seemed intent upon dethroning the man from the only job he ever loved. If she could be of any small service in helping her father survive for another term she'd never forgive herself if she didn’t.

The man had long ago surrounded himself with yes men. Not one of them could stand within her father's shadow without seeming small and though every one of them professed their undying devotion to Senator Townsend when they were out of earshot of the man they talked about him just like the women of Guthrie must talk about her.

She kept her ears open and her mouth shut. What good would it do informing her father that his confidants were all belittling him behind his back? If he believed her it would only hurt his feelings and she didn’t like to think about what would happen if he didn’t.

And so as he mounted each new campaign she was right there with her father just as she had been as a little girl, handing out literature and buttons and smiling so much it hurt her jaw muscles for the next three days.

Once she thought he might even say thank you to her. He'd called her aside after a particularly arduous day of speech making and shaking hands but instead of saying how much he appreciated her help he merely commented on what he took to be her inappropriate dress... that she was too Texas, as he put it, as if he was insinuating she might be going native on him.

"I'd love to, mom... but we're right in the middle of repairing the fence line. Dad needs me here."

She knew Billy would refuse her offer before she even asked him but she thought how cute it was that a ten year old boy felt as needed as he did. It was a credit to her husband... he was as fine a father to the boy as her own father had been to her. On the other hand, Billy's grandfather could be gruff, especially if a person didn’t know how to take it like she did.

She remembered helping Senator Townsend on the campaign trail when she was barely tall enough to see over top of the tables where he sat signing autographs for his constituency and handing out brochures. He was stern yet steady and tenderness was not a part of his repertoire.

He always made her feel needed, however, in the same way Rancher had a tendency of doing with Billy. She wondered if it was something they both did purposely or if they were simply that kind of men. Either way, she loved them despite their many and assorted faults.

Though they'd been married nearly twenty years he still had the same boyishly muscular body that he sported when he courted her. Lorraine could never understand what Rancher saw in her. Even after he asked her to marry him and she agreed she kept waiting to wake up from the dream and realize he was simply playing her... that all he really wanted was the old money that she came from

Still, Rancher Ford was a wealthy man when they met. She remembered how her father had marked him as one of the men he wanted to recruit into his Presidential campaign. In the sparsely populated county where the Triple Six ranch was located Rancher Ford was known as a man who got things done.

She'd been her father's emissary sent out into the wilderness of Texas to meet a man virtually a legend while she had trouble keeping her wardrobe together. On the car ride out to his ranch Lorraine had glanced down at her feet and realized her shoes were mismatched... one was dark gray while the other was black.

They had left out well before dawn but that was no excuse. What would the man think when he saw how the daughter of a man who would be President couldn't even dress herself properly.

"Turn around, Edward. We have to go back."

"But Miss Townsend... we're nearly to the ranch... if we turn around we'll miss our breakfast appointment with Mr. Ford."

Edward Best was her father's most trusted attaché... he had been with the family since before she was born and he was still there... and of course he was right. He was always right. Lorraine often wondered why Edward didn't run for office as knowledgeable and highly regarded as he was. She supposed some men were content staying in the shadows while others had a compulsion to seek out the light.

"It's just that I suddenly realized my shoes don't match. I should've been more careful but it was still dark when I got dressed."

"I shouldn’t worry about it, Miss Townsend. If Mr. Ford's the gentleman we're led to believe he is, even if he notices your faux pas he wouldn't dream of bringing it to your attention."

"I'm sure you're right, Edward... it's just that I'll feel so self conscious around him now that I'm not sure I can do my best for father."

"Your father has every confidence in you for good reason, Miss Townsend."

Still, Lorraine remembered being mortified when she met the good Rancher Ford. Like the carefully cultivated Texas gentleman that he was, Mr. Ford had bowed while taking her hand in his and looked down, straight at her feet. When he brought his eyes up to meet hers she was sure she saw a merry twinkle in them and she could have sworn that he winked at her.

Their meeting went far better than she ever dared to anticipate. Rancher Ford agreed to lead the county committee to elect the honorable Fredrick Townsend to the Presidency of the United States as well as to donate a generous sum of money to his campaign and to make every effort to recruit his fellow ranchers to do the same.

"I do hope we'll have the opportunity to meet again, Mrs. Townsend."

"It's Miss Townsend, Mr. Ford... and please, call me Lorraine. We'll be in Guthrie for the rest of the week so I'm sure we'll cross each other's paths again, sir."

"Perhaps I'm being too forward in asking, Lorraine... but do you... oh, I really shouldn’t be doing this."

She'd been too timid to even think to ask him if he meant did she have a boyfriend but something made her speak anyway. She liked the way Rancher Ford looked right into her eyes even though he seemed as thoroughly disconcerted as a shy high school boy. He held her gaze in ways most men had never done. She didn’t know if it was something about her personally or if perhaps it was the status they accorded her for being the daughter of one of the most powerful men in America. She decided then and there to meet boldness with daring.

"If you mean to ask do I have a beau... no, Mr. Ford. I don't."

A tiny smile had creased the corners of his mouth and after throwing a glance at Edward—as if gauging whether or not he was a competitor for her fancies—Rancher Ford spoke slowly and yet with purpose as if he was working out the words even as they emerged from his mouth.

"In that case would you care to attend the annual ball with me? It's being held on Friday night. I understand if you'd rather not... and please, call me Rancher. That really is my name, you know. My father was a bit of a wag. He named me Rancher without my mother's permission and what's more, I was born in Indiana."

She blushed involuntarily thinking how her whole entourage had talked of how Rancher Ford must have assumed the name on account of owning the largest ranch in Texas. Like her father's daughter, however, she quickly regained her composure.

"Oh... I thought... why, yes, Rancher... I'd love to attend the ball with you... thank you ever so much for asking. When may I expect you to call? It's a formal affair I trust."

"I'll be by your hotel at seven o'clock, and yes, it's a formal affair... a black and white as we call it here. But gray's acceptable too."