California, land of opportunity, is where I was bound on the day my horse got spooked on the prairie. It threw me, and bolted, leaving me stuck in the middle of nowhere. Well, I dusted myself down and I whistled and cussed, but I never saw that danged horse again. Ain’t sure how many miles I walked but late in the afternoon, smoke rising through distant treetops drew me to woodland, where I followed my nose and the smell of coffee to a shack in a clearing. Sitting on the porch was an old Negro.
‘Howdy,’ I said, in my friendliest, thirstiest voice.
The old man didn’t blink an eye. He just carried on smoking his pipe like I wasn’t there.
With a rumbling gut and a hankering for coffee overriding any inclination to backtrack, I recounted my sorry tale, and tried again. ‘If you can spare some coffee, I’d be mighty grateful. The name’s Valance… Levitt E. Valance.’
For a big fella of around seventy years, he moved pretty sprightly when he got up and beckoned me inside.
‘Are you on your own out here?’
‘Ain’t none of your business,’ he replied.
‘I guess not. No offence, Mister. Just making conversation, that’s all.’
Two mugs of coffee and a plate of beans later, I thanked him and said I’d better be getting along.
‘Where you headed?’ he asked.
I told him it was none of his business.
‘Sun’s going down,’ said the old man. ‘The nearest town is Springvale, ten miles north. With a full moon and a good horse you could make it by midnight. You ain’t got a horse.’
‘I’ll buy yours.’
‘You got more chance of buying the moon.’
‘I’ll give you a fair price.’
‘I don’t own a horse.’
Hell, could he choke a conversation. I wasn’t exactly overjoyed when he said I should stay the night, but sometimes you gotta be practical. Since he wasn’t one for small talk, an edgy silence endured till nightfall when I told him I was ready to turn in.
By candlelight, he showed me to a darkened room and tossed me a blanket. ‘You can sleep in there,’ he said.
Sleep was a long time coming on a bare wooden floor, as one aching bone after another cried out for mercy. I’d sooner have slept under the stars. How an old man could live such a parsimonious existence I did not know, but he was welcome to it. In the morning I’d be gone.
The last thing I needed was a rooster crowing at dawn. Soon after, I heard a rattle and a clank and the sound of someone shuffling around. Any chance of getting back to sleep ended when the door swung open.
‘Good morning, Mister Levity Valance. I brought you some coffee. What are you doing on the floor, cot too soft for you?’
Opening one bleary eye gave me a close-up of my host’s boots. I rolled onto my back, grunting as my bones unlocked. In a room filled with early morning sunshine, the fuzz in my brain cleared. Over in the corner was a bed with a mattress.
‘No sense you leaving on an empty stomach,’ said the old man, when I joined him at the breakfast table. Washed down with hot coffee, boiled eggs and cornbread set me up fine and revived my inclination to be sociable.
‘Ain’t my business, I know, but it can’t be easy living out here on your own.’
‘Nobody said it was.’
‘So, how do you do it?’
Seemed the conversation was over when the surly cuss reached for his pipe. I rolled a cigarette, thinking I’d have a smoke and then be on my way.
‘It helps that I’m old an’ wise,’ said the old man, as he lit his pipe and leaned back in his chair.
‘Is that your name?’
‘Is what my name?’
‘Old Dan Wise.’
I swear I caught a trace of a smile on the old man’s face. ‘C’mon out here,’ he said, as he got up from the table. ‘I’ll show you how I get by.’
Dan showed me his backyard. Leastways I was expecting a yard, but that don’t rightly describe several acres of land busting to glory with fruit and vegetables, and just about every flower in creation. Whichever way I looked everything was rich, ripe and perfect. Well, I just stood there and shook my head in wonder.
‘C’mon.’
Chickens roamed free, paying no heed to the stranger in their midst as I followed Dan to a barn.
‘Come in’ he said, like he was itching to show me something special.
Hell, what a disappointment. I ain’t one to hurt anyone’s feelings, but I never saw a workbench and a bunch of carpenter’s tools as something to get excited about. With the rest of the barn in semi-darkness there was little to see and even less to say. But as my eyes became accustomed to the gloom, I saw benches and cabinets, and a whole stack of tables and chairs.
‘You make these?’ wasn’t the smartest of questions, I realized, when I noticed we were ankle deep in wood shavings. ‘I mean all by yourself’ I said, anxious to appear less of a jackass.
‘Yup, all by myself’ said Dan, as we wandered outside.
Behind the barn was a still. Dan tried explaining how it worked but distillation and fermentation meant nothing to me. Lubrication I understand, and that’s where my mind strayed when I spotted a row of jugs on a trestle.
‘Bet that shine tastes real good, don’t it?’
‘It does,’ said Dan, as he wandered off again.
I chased after him. ‘Ain’t you gonna let me try some?’
‘No. Shine ain’t good for a man first thing in the morning, ‘specially a man with a ten mile walk ahead of him.’
Dan led me to a well. ‘Goes right down to a spring,’ he said, as he drew a bucketful of clear water. He cupped his hand and took a sip. ‘Try it,’ he said. So I did. Pure as it was, it was still only water.
‘Seems you got everything you need right here.’
‘Mostly. The man from the trading post comes by three, maybe four times a year with flour, malt, corn, salt pork, molasses, sugar, tobacco… clothes and tools, sometimes, when I ask for them. Then he loads his wagon with the stuff you saw in the barn and I start all over again.’
‘Sounds like hard work.’
‘Ain’t nothing wrong with that.’
‘Maybe so, but I don’t know how you can live out here on your own.’
‘I ain’t short of company. I got Jesus and Mister Jones.’
Dan must have seen my frown.
‘You know… Jesus,’ he said. ‘His daddy was a carpenter, like me.’
‘Hell, I know that. But who’s Mister Jones? I’ve seen nobody here but you.’
‘Don’t mean he ain’t seen you. Most likely he’s watching you right now.’
My eyes darted every which way, searching for a glimpse of the mysterious Mister Jones.
‘Maybe you heard him this morning?’
‘Nope’
‘You sure?’
‘Sure I’m sure,’ I said, getting a little irked.
‘Didn’t you hear the rooster?’
‘Yeah, but…’
‘Well that’s Mister Jones.’
‘Mister Jones is your rooster?’
‘That’s right. Ain’t a bigger one anywhere on this earth,’ said Dan, proudly. ‘Watch out for him, he’s mean.’
Dan grew all kinds of vegetables. Some I recognized, like beets; leeks; carrots; tomatoes and the like. Others I wasn’t so sure of, but I know a weed when I see one and I thought I’d pull a few.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ asked Dan, with a growl that stopped me dead.
‘Just pulling some weeds, thought I’d lend a hand.’
Dan’s cold eyed stare told me I’d done wrong.
‘They may look like weeds to you,’ he said. ‘But those nettles, dandelions, purslane and pineapple weed are food and medicine to me, and I’d appreciate you leaving them right where they are.’
I must have said sorry a dozen times as I scraped at the soil, trying to replant the weeds.
‘It’s too late now,’ Dan barked. ‘Just don’t help no more.’
Hell, I felt like a chastised kid when he walked off and left me kneeling in the dirt.
A tree weighed down with peaches is something to stop and admire. Just looking at them had me drooling.
‘Help yourself,’ said Dan. Since he was ten yards in front of me, I swear he had eyes in the back of his head. Well, I should have picked a peach and followed him straight back to the shack, but picking a peach ain’t easy when there’s so many to choose from. Truth is I was hell bent on getting my hands on the biggest damn peach I could find and I wasn’t going anywhere till I’d found it.
Lingering and scrutinizing takes a lot of concentration and that’s a fact. I barely noticed the unrest amongst the chickens, not even when they started clucking and scuttling away. By the time I realized something was going on it was too late, ‘cause standing there in all his glory, just a few feet away, was the fearsome Mister Jones.
My thoughts at that moment ain’t fit for repeating. Mister Jones was sizing me up and when he started clawing the ground, I froze. It ain’t easy to think straight when forty pounds of feathered malice raises its wings and lets out a screech. Stuck somewhere between praying and pissing my pants, I did neither. It was as much as I could do to cover my face before it hit me in the gut, dropping me like a sack of flour. The dang blasted thing was all over me, pecking my arms and raking my chest as I rolled in the dirt. Did I holler? You bet I did, and I screamed like a baby when I got clawed in the man parts. I rolled onto my belly, glad to take a clawing anywhere but there.
Dan came to the rescue. Not in any great haste, but at least he came.
‘You can get up now.’
After a little squint to be sure it was safe to open my eyes, I saw an upside down rooster hanging from Dan’s fist. Then, as best as I could on a twisted ankle, I got up and hobbled to the house, being in no mind to countenance a suggestion from Dan that I take a turn at holding Mister Jones. I guess you could say the invitation was politely declined.
‘It’s your own fault,’ said Dan, when he sat me down and cleaned me up.
‘You knew that was gonna happen, didn’t you?’
‘I warned you. Ain’t my fault you don’t take a telling.’
‘Maybe so, but you could have stopped it.’
‘And what would you have learned? Nothing.’
‘Well, you could have stepped in a whole lot sooner.’
‘Why? You’re the one who failed, Mister Levity Valance. You let fear beat you.’
That shut me up. I wouldn’t admit it at the time, not even to myself, but deep down I knew he was right.
Dan reached for a bottle. ‘This is gonna hurt,’ he said. ‘But it’ll heal you good.’
‘What is it?’
‘Just a little something I made.’
I could have cried when Dan started working that stuff into my cuts. Course I made out it didn’t hurt, but that lotion was hell’s own fury. Did a good job though and when the stinging eased, I smoked a cigarette and felt much better.
It was time to say goodbye. I needed to be getting along if I was gonna make Springvale by nightfall. Only trouble is when I tried to get up, my ankle couldn’t take my weight.
‘I’ll make some more coffee,’ said Dan, as I flopped back in the chair.
My ankle would heal in three to four days, Dan reckoned. For a young man with places to go and ladies to meet, that ain’t what I wanted to hear. I guess my frustration was plain to see.
‘Ain’t no use feeling sorry for yourself. It won’t change a thing,’ said Dan. ‘Besides, if anybody’s got a right to feel sorry it’s me, ‘cause now I’m stuck with you.’
Dan said things as he saw them, only his sense of humor was desert dry and there was no way of knowing if he was fooling. Made no difference anyhow, when he ordered me to rest up, I could only set my face straight and do as I was told.
After working all day at his chores, Dan served up a meal of cornbread and stew, and followed it up with blueberry pie. Seemed there wasn’t a thing that man couldn’t do. ‘That pie is my most delicious pie I ever tasted,’ I told him. Now if someone gave me a compliment like that I’d have puffed up my chest. Not Dan, he just grunted as he got up and cleared the table.
Come sundown we sat out the porch; me on a bench, Dan in his rocking chair. On the table between us he set two mugs and a jug of shine.
‘Sip it slow and let it trickle down your throat,’ he said, as he rocked back and lit his pipe.
That shine was powerful stuff. Every sip came with a kick that watered my eyes and burned right down to the gut. Loosened my tongue too; I don’t know how long I gabbed for, but it seemed a good idea to hush up when I noticed Dan was lost in his own thoughts. Course I didn’t like being ignored. After sitting on my own most of the day, I wanted to talk. Truth is I felt belittled, and I’ll admit to straying on the wrong side of moody as I rolled a cigarette.
‘You ready for some more?’ Dan asked, some thirty minutes later.
I shook my head. My mug was three parts full and I was still feeling resentful. Dan topped it up anyhow, and refilled his own.
Acquiring a taste for shine calls for perseverance, I figured, when I’d done brooding.
So I took an almighty gulp… and regretted it when I coughed it straight back.
‘You gonna let it beat you, or try again?’ said Dan, quietly, when I’d finished spluttering and wiping away the snot.
I bided my time before taking another mouthful, a smaller one this time. Though I coughed again, I managed to keep it down.
‘You’ll learn,’ said Dan. ‘One day.’
‘When I’m old and wise?’
‘Maybe, live long and you might acquire some wisdom on the way.’
‘I got wisdom.’
‘You? You’re greener than a stink bug. What wisdom you got?’
‘Oh, you know… sayings and stuff.’
‘You know some sayings?’
‘Sure I do; he who hesitates is lost.’
‘Yet fools rush in where angels fear to tread,’ said Dan. Hell, he stuck me good with that one.
‘Knowing a few sayings ain’t wisdom,’ said Dan.
‘It ain’t?’
‘Every mistake has a value if you learn something. The sum of that learning is wisdom.’
I had to chew that over for a while. Though it made a sense, I couldn’t tie it in to my tangle with the rooster. I’d been cut and I’d been bruised, and laid low with a swelled up ankle, but aside from learning it ain’t smart to mess with roosters, I’d come out of it with nothing. Since there had to be a less painful way of acquiring wisdom, I asked Dan to teach me.
‘I can try,’ he said. ‘But it won’t do any good if you won’t listen.’
‘Think you could teach me the smart way of dealing with roosters?’
‘I told you to watch out for Mister Jones, didn’t I? I warned you he was mean. Did you listen then?’
‘That was then. I reckon I’m a better listener now.’
The old man stroked his whiskers while he thought about it. ‘Alright, but first you gotta understand, in his world, he’s the boss. A rooster don’t take kindly to anything that challenges him or his territory.’
‘Suppose I want to be the boss?’
‘Then you gotta act like a rooster and show him you’re a tougher rooster than he is. When he eyeballs you, you eyeball him. When he shows you his feathers, make yourself as big as you can. Put your hands on your hips, square your shoulders and stick out your elbows. Some roosters start getting sensible about then but if he starts clawing the soil, be ready to fight. If you’re smart you’ll have a broom close by.’
‘Is that what you did with Mister Jones?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Don’t he ever trouble you?’
‘He thinks about it. I see that uppity look in his eye, sometimes, but I just stare him down. He pecked me one time but he’ll not do it again.’
‘Why not?’
‘I kicked his ass all the way to the henhouse and gave him a slapping he ain’t likely to forget.’
Hell, did I laugh. Dan laughed too, and that pleased me greatly. Between regular shots of shine, he opened up and told me how he’d come to the woods some twenty years before, and cut down trees to build his home. And he told it all plain and simple, with no trace of a boast.
‘Why did you come here Dan, all on your own, to a place miles from anywhere?’
‘A man’s gotta live somewhere. When Mister Jones told me I was free, I just hit that dusty road and kept right on walking. Didn’t know where I was going, and I didn’t care, as long as I could live free and be troubled by no one. I was a long time walking. Then one day I arrived here and I knew I didn’t have to walk no more.’
I don’t know why that shook me, but it did. I asked him outright Dan he’d been a slave. A dumb question, sure, but I had to say something.
‘A slave I was born and a slave I stayed for fifty years. Then old Mister Jones passed on, and young Mister Jones gave me my papers. Said it was the right thing to do.’
‘You got any kin?’
‘I had a wife once. She died giving birth to our little boy.’
‘You’ve got a son?’
‘They sold him when was nine years old.’
‘Hell Dan, I’m sorry.’
Dan reached for his pipe. His way of closing the book, I guess.
I was back on my feet in four days, just as Dan predicted. Being a young man with a head full of dreams; I was ready to resume my search for fame, fortune and dirty women. Over breakfast, I told him I’d be moving on.
Dan laid down his fork. A prelude to a few kind words and an expression of regret, I guessed. I was all set to reply in kind, but after gulping a swig of coffee, Dan picked up the fork, carried on eating, and didn’t say a word till he’d eaten every scrap.
‘Think you can make it?’
‘Yup, I’m all set to go.’
The old man nodded. In acceptance of the fact, I figured, till he went and complicated things.
‘Might be better to wait a while longer. No sense in getting halfway to Springvale and going lame again. Today’s gonna be a hot one, ain’t a cloud in the sky and Springvale’s a hard day’s walking. Ain’t nothing between here and there but scrubland and rattlesnakes. And maybe the odd fool. And a few buzzards.’
Dan was right. Hell, he was always right.
‘Growing crops ain’t as simple as some folks think,’ said Dan, twixt giving me a lecture and waving the stick he’d used to mark a new plot. ‘It ain’t enough to throw it in the ground and hope it’ll grow with a little rain and sunshine. You reap what you sow, and that’s a fact. You being a man of sayings, you’ll know that means you only get out what you put in, starting with your backbone.’
Satisfied with the long strip he’d marked out, Dan tossed me a shovel. ‘Dig deep and don’t leave a sod unbroken. You start here, I’ll work my way down from the top.’
Seeing Dan head up the rise to take the end nearest the henhouse suited me fine. If that pesky rooster had a notion to trouble me again, he’d have to get past Dan first.
Digging ain’t what I had in mind when I’d insisted on earning my keep, but dig we did, in soil that was bone hard and compacted. It helped none that the sun was blazing by mid morning. Sweat was stinging my eyes when I took off my shirt and toweled my face. Then I got straight back to work, determined not to be out-dug by the old fella. For three hours the two of us toiled, until we met in the middle with the whole patch turned over. With some exuberance I let out a whoop and rested on my shovel.
‘We did it,’ I said.
‘That’s the first part done’ said Dan, unmoved. ‘You rest here a minute.’
‘Why, where you going?’
‘Gonna get us some goodness.’
I watched closely as Dan strode up the slope. Beyond the flowers and shrubs, he zigzagged through the ferns and disappeared beyond the vines, where a glimpse of white hair showed he was heading toward to henhouse. And all the while I kept a tight grip on my shovel, being good and ready for Mister Jones.
Something smelled real bad when the old man returned with two big buckets.
‘Hell, is that what I think it is?’
‘What might that be?’ asked Dan, as he started scattering the stuff with his bare hands.
‘Smells like chicken shit.’
‘To the likes of you, maybe, but to someone like me, it’s nutrients. Now, are you gonna stand there with your nose turned up, or are you gonna help?’
I helped. Didn’t handle any chicken shit though. After declaring Dan the chicken shit spreader, I appointed myself the chicken shit digger. I just dug the stuff in, and let Dan do the fetching and spreading. I don’t know how many times he filled those buckets, but when he’d done toting chicken shit, he started all over again with garden rot.
A hard day’s work ended with the sun going down ‘That’s about all we can do,’ said Dan. ‘It’s Mother Nature’s turn now… should be ready for sowing in about a month.’
Though I could barely straighten up, I speared my shovel into the ground in a welcome act of finality. Mother Nature’s a fine woman, but she sure takes a lot of credit for someone that shirks the hard part.
On the porch after supper, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Plum tuckered out, I apologized and told Dan I was fit for nothing but sleep. He said nothing. He just rocked back in his chair and smoked his pipe.
I didn’t mind Dan working me hard. I owed him something and he worked just as hard, if not harder. The time he’d spent nurse-maiding me must have set him back, and that ain’t taking into account the food I was eating. Many hands make light work, they say. Two pairs ain’t that many but I guess the principle’s the same when it comes to getting twice the work done for a half share of the blisters. And a half share of blisters was plenty enough.
For a week or more all I did is work and sleep, but once we caught up on things, Dan slowed a mite to spend good time teaching me about weeds and medicines, sharpening knives and all kinds of stuff. Some days he praised me, other days he criticized everything I did. With something to prove, my chance to shine came when he decided to replace some timber on the shady side of the barn. ‘Leave it to me,’ I said.
Dan seemed skeptical. ‘Think you can do it without me watching over you?’
‘Sure I can. I was patching up barns before I learned to shave. You get on with your chores. I’ll call you when I’m done.’
Well, I did it. Worked doggone hard too, and I felt pretty darned pleased with myself when I nailed in the last piece. In expectation of fulsome praise, I called Dan.
The old man took one look and scowled. ‘That it?’
‘Sure that’s it,’ I said. ‘Good, ain’t it?’
Dan’s face said different. I watched anxiously as he started jabbing his fingers in the gaps between the timbers. Right then I’d have settled for any kind of praise, but then he found a hole big enough to push his fist through.
‘You fixing on putting a window in here?’
‘Ain’t as bad as it looks Dan,’ I said, doing my darndest to rescue a crumb of self-respect. Just needs a clump of mud and straw, or clay or something to keep the draught out. It’ll be alright.’
‘I guess it’ll have to be,’ he said, shaking his head.
Dan shared his home and he shared his food, and he even shared his pipe when I ran out of cigarette papers. But when Dan cut, he cut deep and all the while, my fuse was burning. Things came to a head on the day I insisted on doing the cooking. Keen to please, maybe too keen, I boiled up some vegetables and made us some soup. It gave me a lot of satisfaction to see Dan liking it, till he suddenly stopped eating.
‘Something the matter, Dan?’
‘You clean the cabbage?’
‘Sure. Why, what’s wrong?’
‘A spider,’ said Dan, pointing to a soggy brown lump on his spoon.
I leaned across the table for a better look and saw the soggy brown lump had legs.
‘Are you trying to kill me?’ he said, pushing his bowl aside.
Well, that got me mad. Sure, I should have been more careful but I’d had a gutful of him picking on me and said so, in words loud and clear as I leapt from my chair.
‘Brown spiders are poisonous,’ Dan barked.
The point of Dan’s words were lost in the haze between my ears. All I heard was him putting me down. I lost my temper, so bad that I ran off at the mouth and threatened to bust his head.
Next thing I knew I was pinned to the wall. ‘And maybe you could bust my head,’ said Dan, ‘but you’d be awful shamed of yourself later.’
The more I struggled to break free, the more he tightened his grip on my throat. With one hand he could have choked the life out of me, but that wasn’t Dan’s way. The measured strength of an older, wiser man, who was smart enough to keep me there till I simmered down, was Dan’s way.
Course I was full of regret when my head cleared, and I knew I owed him an apology, but when I tried to make things right, he cut me short and told me to forget it.
‘Just watch out for those spiders,’ he said. ‘And when we sit out on the porch tonight, be sure to thank the star that guides you, ‘cause I don’t know how you’ve lived this long without me looking out for you.’
Dan never talked of his slave days again, and I didn’t care to pry, but there was one question I had to ask.
‘Why did you name your rooster after Mister Jones?
‘The Lord made them the same way; same temper, same strut, same beak.’ Dan smiled. Then he started talking about watermelons. Ain’t sure why. I figured he just wanted to change the subject, so I talked about watermelons too.
‘My Pa grew watermelons. And potatoes. My Pa grew lots of things. Grew radishes, too. You ever grow radishes, Dan?’
‘I been growing radishes a long time.’
‘How long?’
‘Oh, I don’t know… before you were a twitch in your daddy’s pants, that’s for sure.’
‘D’you ever grow spinach?’
‘No’
‘Why not? Too hard to grow?’
‘I don’t like spinach.’
‘My Pa never had any luck with spinach. Is there anything you can’t grow, Dan?’
‘Nothing I can think of, though I wish I could grow a slice of beef, sometimes.’
‘Hell, that’d be something. I ain’t had beef in a while.’
‘Well, ‘less you know of a bushy tailed cow that eats nuts and climbs trees, we’ll have to make do with squirrel meat. Know the best way to catch critters? C’mon, I’ll show you.’
‘What, now? It’s almost midnight.’
‘Midnight’s the best time. We’ll need this,’ he said, picking up the jug of shine. ‘Need a bowl, too. Go fetch one from the kitchen.’
So, right there and then, we went out into the woods.
‘This ought to do,’ said Dan, when we came to a clearing. ‘Just lay the bowl right there.’
Well, I did as I was told and stepped back, and watched carefully as Dan filled the bowl with shine. Reckon I was expecting some kind of magic trick, but I’ll be damned if he didn’t just turn around and go home.
‘What do we do now?’ I asked, as I hurried after him.
‘We get some sleep.’
Early next morning I was woken, as always, by the rooster. And as always, I turned over, figuring I’d go back to sleep. But then I heard Dan shouting.
‘C’mon, hurry up, or we’ll be too late.’
I didn’t know why Dan was in such an all fired hurry, but I was outside in my boots and britches before I could wipe the sleep from my eyes. We retraced our steps through the woods to the clearing, where a whole bunch of critters were rolling around. What happened next ain’t for the queasy but meat is meat, and a tasty meal was guaranteed when Dan picked up a stick. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Ain’t sure how long I stayed with Dan; could have been three weeks; could have been a month, but I grew to love our evenings on the porch. At peace with the world, I had no mind to fret when the old man lit his pipe and rocked back in his chair. At the right time, in the right place, silence is more than peace and quiet. It’s about having your senses come alive to your surroundings. In the right company it’s about being and knowing and communicating through trust and understanding. It’s about harmony and acceptance. And when it all comes together, you get a glow in your heart that’s as warm as anything on this earth. Sitting under the stars, sharing a long, companionable silence with Dan, these things came to me in words unspoken. He’d talk when he was ready, and when he talked, I’d soak up every word.
All good things have to end sometime. Dan didn’t say a word when I told him I was moving on. Same old Dan, he just gave a little nod and carried on smoking his pipe. I guess he expected it.
I could have done without the big breakfast he served up next morning, but since he’d cooked it special, I could only smile and be gracious. Fried eggs, beans, tomatoes, mushrooms, onions and potatoes… hell, in lean times I ain’t eaten that much in a week. That I ate it at all was purely down to the amount of coffee it took to swill it down. Though it was time to be getting along, I was blowing hard when I cleared the table, and when I looked through the window and saw Dan busy outside, I’d figured it’d do no harm to sit and rest my gut till he came in.
Well, a man can only kick his heels for so long before he starts getting tetchy, and when I got to thinking Dan couldn’t give two hoots about saying goodbye, I got real tetchy. I had half a mind slip away, only I couldn’t do it.
Dan was harvesting potatoes when I went outside.
‘You still here?’
‘I’ve been waiting to say goodbye.’
Dan straightened up and wiped his hands on his shirt. ‘And I been waiting for you to come out here and settle some unfinished business.’
‘Unfinished business?’
‘I knew you’d come when you were ready.’
‘Wait a minute, what business?’
‘Go get some eggs.’
‘What?’
‘You heard. Go get some eggs and bring them to the kitchen.’
Thoughts of hell, fire and damnation passed through my mind when the wily old coot went back to the house and left me out there alone. Only I wasn’t alone, ‘cause somewhere between me and the henhouse, Mister Jones was minding his territory.
With a heavy heart and whole heap of uncertainty, I set off up the slope. After a quick spurt to grab a shovel, I crept towards the henhouse, my eyes darting this way and that for a sighting of that darned rooster. Since he could be hiding just about anywhere, I figured I’d better find him, before he found me.
‘Hey, rooster!’ I yelled.
After squinting through the shrubs, I cut an angle to the vines, hoping to get a bead on the henhouse.
‘Rooster? Hey, rooster! I’m gonna get some eggs. If you’re smart, you’ll step aside. If you ain’t, you’ll get a mouthful of shovel.’
Nothing betrayed the rooster’s presence. If he wasn’t by the vines then he had to be in the henhouse. Unless? I spun round… and saw the sneaky jasper strutting up the new plot. He'd circled round on me.
Keeping a cool head ain’t easy when your ass is twitching, but with Dan’s advice in mind, I stepped up to meet Mister Jones. When he stopped, I stopped. And when he advanced, I did likewise.
The rooster screeched and threw out his feathers. In reply, I took up a gunslinger’s stance and gave him a screech of my own, and hell, didn’t that stir my wild up. Then, when he started clawing the soil and doing his little war dance, I raked my heel in the ground and gave him a good talking to.
‘Okay Mister, if that’s how it’s gonna be, come and get it. I’m all set and ready, but you’d better know I fight dirty, and squawking ain’t gonna help when I’m kicking your ass black and blue.’
Hell, I never saw a rooster gulp before, but I swear that’s just what he did. All the bluster drained out of him. He just cocked this head to one side and started looking at me different. And when I took a step toward him, he backed away.
Dan got his eggs.
‘For a little while there you had me worried,’ he said. ‘But you came through, just like I knew you would.’
‘Good, wasn’t I?’ I said. I figured it was no time for humility.
‘And you weren’t scared?’
‘Course not. Just had to show him who’s the boss, that’s all.’
Dan smiled.
‘Well, maybe I was a mite nervous,’ I confessed.
The show was over. It was time to go. Together, we stepped out on the porch for the last time. I asked him if there was anything I could do for him when I got to Springvale.
‘No, but if you run into the man at the trading post, you can tell him I’ll be needing extra coffee.’ Then Dan handed me a bag. ‘Something to help you on your way,’ he said.
A bag of peaches is all it was, but it meant the whole world to me. Though I had much to thank Dan for, I got all choked up and couldn’t find the words. Right to end, Dan helped me out.
‘What’s written in the soul don’t need saying,’ he said, as he offered his hand.
Face to face and eye to eye, I shook his hand and felt blessed to have known a special man.
I got to Springvale all right. Found myself a nice dirty woman too, only her husband didn’t take kindly to the idea and I left town lickety-split. I don’t suppose he took kindly to me borrowing his horse either, though I never went back to find out.
Miss April spoke recently of people that touch your life and leave you with something warm, wonderful and lasting. Well, Dan was one of those people. And sometimes, when I’m out on the porch, it feels like he’s right beside me, rocking in a chair and smoking his pipe. And even though he’s long gone, and I know it ain’t possible, I still think he’s looking out for me. Strange, ain’t it?
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