FAITH
FAITH (after an idea by Nesciri)
Cody sat on the steps in the early morning sunlight, his legs kicked out in front of him. Even though it was autumn time, he had not had the strength to put his boots on. He didn’t really hurt anymore but the memory of overwhelming pain was so strong that he felt relief at its mere absence. He was also enjoying the feeling of resting, of not being tense, anxious or worried. It seemed so long ago that he was clowning around with Ike in town about pretty girls and dances.
He wiggled his toes a little against the wooden
steps. He used to do that when he was little and it was summertime. He remembered
running barefoot all day not paying attention to too much except finding his
next adventure. This one had certainly found him. He shuddered when he recalled
Yellow Crane watching him in town. He moved over a little on the porch so he
could lean against the rail while he turned his face into the sun. His back
ached a little from flying into the wall. He couldn’t remember too much
except Yellow
Crane pointing at him and then the sensation of fast movement suddenly ending
in pain. He closed his eyes against the sunlight. He was only a little surprised
to find himself quickly swiping a tear from his eye with the back of his hand.
He had learned something from all this and it changed who he was. It terrified
him.
He had always figured himself out for invincible. He had always thought he was young and had time on his side. He had always imagined himself traveling around the world in fancy ships and trains, rich and famous. He knew there were big things in store for him. From now on, his daydreams would be different. They would no longer be wholly pleasant. They would be tinged with fear, edged with doubt and uncertainty. He knew that even the best dreams could unravel. Someone bigger and stronger than he was could destroy everything just because they wanted to. From now on, there would be no guarantees, no sure things in his life. He would take every day and make it precious. He would claim it for his own with no regrets. After all, you never knew when your last one might be.
Jimmy quietly opened the door and stepped onto the porch, squinting against the sun. He saw Cody almost huddled against the railing. When he saw him wipe tears from his face, he left him alone. He knew how he felt. He felt like crying a little himself but he swallowed hard, trying to think of anything else. He would not let his conscious mind wander back to the time when he lay helpless in the woods, trembling and crying. He would not think about the way she touched him. The curse she put on him. The words she said to him. He could not help his dreams but he refused to do it to himself on purpose.
He was no fool. He knew that someday somebody quicker
and faster than he could draw on him, spelling the end of James Butler Hickok.
He just never figured that “the somebody” could be a Kiowa witch with
long black hair and a disfigured face. He would never forget her
face or the way she laughed at him. The smell of the burning branches she waved
in his face still made his throat close and his skin crawl. He realized what
he was doing to himself and he stopped. Another look at Cody told him he was
doing the same thing. Jimmy moved slowly away from the porch and made his way
around the side of the station. It was cooler in the shade but it calmed his
pounding heart.
He leaned against the wall and absently fingered
the cloth that was wrapped tightly around his middle. He took as deep a breath
as he could manage. The effort made him wince but he was glad for the hurt.
It made him believe that he was still alive. Soon, the bandage
would come off and he could start practicing again with his Colts. There was
always some part of the draw that could be refined, made quicker, made better.
She has no power, no control over me, he kept telling himself. She’s dead
and it ends right here. Yes, that’s what he would keep telling himself.
From this day on, he vowed, he would make his own destiny.
Lou and Kid sat next to each other at the table
in the bunkhouse. When Jimmy left, Lou immediately got up and came to stand
by Kid’s chair. He kept his eyes on the table but reached for her hand.
He marveled at how the almost dainty hands could so easily hold a gun or
control a horse. He traced the fingers, lingering on the one he hoped to someday
put a ring on. He could feel her other hand on the back of his neck.
“What about Evan Andrew?” Kid asked still holding Lou’s hand.
“Hmm?” she murmured. She was enjoying Kid holding her hand in the sudden stillness.
“Evan Andrew,” he repeated.
“For what?”
“For the name of our firstborn son.” Lou didn’t say anything but he knew the answer when she pressed her lips to his.
Ike glanced up from where he was working in the garden. He was doing everything he could not to confront his ghosts. Rachel’s garden had been killed with the first heavy frost but that didn’t matter. He could still clear away the blackened, shriveled plants and make way for new ones. He swung the shovel almost brutally against the thick corn stalks that refused to give way. He chopped at them until they were lying piled up around his boots.
Looking at the ground reminded him of the rocky ground his parents were buried in. His entire life, he had been taught first by his parents and then by the nuns at the mission school that it was only the body that was buried while the soul rose into heaven. He remembered hearing the priest tell him that when they put his parents into the ground. That’s what the neighbors told him too. He never doubted that until last night. If that was the case, then what were his parents doing standing in front of him yelling at him? They practically cursed him.
He wanted to believe that his parents were in heaven,
together with his sister. That they were watching out for each other and for
him. That they were waiting for him to join them. He didn’t want to think
about Yellow Crane being able to control their souls. He knew his
was a different religion from the Kiowa’s. Whenever he exchanged stories
with Buck, he had been respectful of course, but to him they were like the stories
his father used to tell him before bedtime. Stories about things like pirates,
knights and dragons. How could she have been able to get their souls out of
heaven?
Was it real or had he been dreaming? He made up his mind. He was going to ask Buck about it. This time though, when Buck explained to him about his religion, he was going to listen. His faith depended on it.
