That brief meeting between Luke, Josh, James, Matt and Elizabeth at the family reunion meant that Elizabeth was going to have to go to San Francisco. Luke had wanted to reorganize the structure of the business for some time and now seemed the proper time. He was not at all ready to retire but he wanted his sons more involved in the decision making and he wanted all of his sons to be officers or board members of the company.
Elizabeth did not know how long she would be gone. When the changes had been explained to the San Francisco law staff, they insisted that major changes such as Luke had in mind could not be made without Elizabeth’s knowledge and skills. They needed her in San Francisco.
Dodd was both very proud of her and extremely disappointed. At the family reunion she had promised to marry him soon. The love he felt there and the recognition of his deep need to parent wore hard on his understanding of her delay. He loved her no less. Indeed, he loved her more dearly since the reunion and he still understood her need for professional fulfillment but now that understanding was strictly intellectual. Emotionally, he did not understand it at all.
The California brothers were going to stay in Nevada for a month, visiting their brothers, father, and friends. During that month, before Elizabeth had to leave, Dodd for the first time, pressured her to set a date. Elizabeth wept. “I cannot now. I love you and I know I’m being presumptuous but something I don’t understand will not let me completely commit to you right now. I will try very hard to be able to give you definite word when I get back from San Francisco.”
Dodd’s frustration showed. He said nothing, but for the first time he radiated frustration, not disappointment.
“Please don’t be angry with me, Dodd. I do love you but I must find out what this thing is that is making me so reticent.”
“Are you saying that that reticence may eventually make your answer, ‘No’?”
“No, I’m not saying that. I love you and I want to marry you, Dodd. I can’t understand what I feel. How can I explain it? Please, Dodd. These ambivalent feelings are bad enough. If I thought you were angry with me, I don’t think I could stand it. I’m a grown woman. I should be able to make up my mind. Please, Dodd, please be patient with me.”
“I’m not angry with you. I’m confused and a little frightened. You say that you will not change your mind about marrying me, but I can’t help being frightened. I love you so much that I’m not sure how I’d live if you were to decide against me. And, further, I’ve found I need the security of your love and a home to balance out the frustration of my work.”
They embraced and gently wept—both of them for the tenderness of the moment, Elizabeth for her confusion, and Dodd for his anxiety.
Elizabeth liked San Francisco but she was not to enjoy much of it this trip. All of her time was spent in the offices of the Luke Forrest and Sons Silver and Gold Exchange or in her room in James’s home. They started early and worked late. Until the first Sunday, the only day they didn’t work, Elizabeth had not even seen James’s children awake. She wanted to see her favorite places. Not the shopping areas. They, to her, were mundane. But Chinatown, the wharf, the view across the bay… those kinds of quaint and romantic places—places of which she never tired—called to her, but the work was complicated and demanding.
She wrote to Dodd every day. She found the work fascinating, the challenge invigorating, and the respect of her fellow lawyers gratifying. Perhaps this was the thing she had to do before she could commit to a wedding date. Perhaps it was, but she wasn’t sure. She became thoroughly frustrated with herself for not knowing. But she did find some peace. She missed Dodd so much it was painful to her. She loved him dearly and was quickly coming to the conclusion that whatever was causing her ambivalence was not nearly as important as her love for Dodd and her need to be near him. The long hours were, in a strange sort of way, a blessing. She wanted to work long hours. She wanted to get back to Dodd.
Had Elizabeth visited her favorite San Francisco places, she surely would have run into Levi Fillion. Levi’s San Francisco life had been one of adventure and excitement and some fun but always shrouded in danger and homesickness, and often in despair and fear.
Levi had not taken time to look at Thorn after he had kicked him. He did not know that Thorn’s disturbed vision would not allow pursuit. Levi had slid off the horse and run. He had no idea where he was going. He just ran. He ran between buildings, down dark streets, and finally across well manicured lawns. He then seemed to leave the town. He was in an area where he could see no buildings. He did not know what might be out there so he turned back until he could see a house.
It was there, in a kind of a thicket, that he finally hid and rested. He could no longer hear the noise of the busy street of saloons and whorehouses. He had glanced back several times and had never seen Thorn. He must have lost him. Levi thought he saw the Indian a time or two but he could not allow himself to be frightened by that now. Thorn was his problem and it was Thorn he had to worry about. He had to be far enough away to be somewhat safe now. But safe or not, he had to rest. It seemed like he had been running for an hour.
While he hid, he thought about the Indian. Levi now believed the Indian was real but he had come to believe that he had nothing to fear from the Indian. Had the Indian wanted to, he could have killed them many times. Anyway, even if the Indian did kill him, it was better than the slavery he believed Thorn had in mind for him. Had he known what Thorn really had in mind, he definitely would have preferred death.
It was dark but Levi was sure he had passed through the swanky part of town. The lawns of people who lived as he did were not as well kept as those he had run across. He’d had enough experience with the swanky folks in Carson City to know they didn’t want his kind around them or their homes. He was sure that a town this big had more than just a sheriff. They probably had police and if he were caught in this swanky part, he would be given to the police. Thorn had convinced the people on the ferry that the boy was a runaway. He could probably convince the police of the same. Levi had to find the part of town where his kind was welcome.
Thorn had not tried to follow Levi. San Francisco had grown since he had last been there but he knew the town. He’d find the boy and when he did, the little bastard would wish he’d never been born.
Thorn tried to stem the flow of blood into his eyes with his kerchief. He was partially successful, successful enough to be able to see the door to a saloon. Thorn cursed his carelessness, entered the saloon and drank himself into oblivion from his pain and his anger.
Levi, very cautiously now, headed back in the direction from which he had come. He kept a wary eye out for Thorn. The boy saw no one and was able to find a large, empty wooden box behind a building that looked like a place where they stored things. He could not hear the noise of Grant Street, that place of saloons and whorehouses, but he knew that he was in a part of town where he would not stand out. Levi crawled into the box, lay on his side, pulled up his knees into his normal sleeping position, and cried himself to sleep.
For just an instant he thought he was dreaming. He was being pulled by one leg from the box. He was being cursed and he definitely knew he was not dreaming when he was hit, full in the face, with a fist. “You scurly, thievin’, lubber son-of-a-bitch. That’s my box!”
Levi could feel his nose bleeding and was sure he’d have a black eye but he could tell by the voice that it wasn’t no man beating on him. It was one of them boys who got them funny voices just before they got a man’s voice. Levi had often tried to fight his father and he had tried to fight Thorn. It was his instinct and soon he was kicking and clawing and biting and punching and cursing the popinjay bastard who was tryin’ to take his box.
Paulo Mezziti was fourteen. It was unusual for an Italian child to be on the street. Italian folks took care of their own. But Paulo’s parents had died of smallpox and for fear the boy carried the germ, no one would take him in. He had been ten at the time, not streetwise, and had been caught and put into a peg house.
Paulo had never been a passive child and he was not about to allow that to happen to him. The boys were kept in a large room. If they showed signs of running, they were chained to a bare wooden bunk. Each bunk had a hole into which could be inserted pegs of various sizes according to the dilation of the boy. When he was not with a customer, the boy was made to sit with the peg in his rectum.
Some of the boys had been beaten into intimidation or were meek by nature. They did not try to run. They helplessly accepted their fate. If the man was a sailor or a miner, they would do what they came for right there in that large room. Some, mostly the ones in fancy clothes, wanted privacy. There were special rooms for them. They also wanted the youngest, prettiest boys who were the most expensive.
Paulo had watched with horror what was happening to the other boys. He was new and his temperament unknown so he was chained to his bunk. Since he was new, the peg he was made to sit on was not large in diameter so the physical pain was not severe. It was uncomfortable, however, and it was humiliating and a very much unwanted invasion of his person. As he sat, he became more and more angry, but he did not resist. He had seen a boy who had resisted knocked unconscious by the man who bought him. Paulo was determined that he would get out of this mess but he would have to think and be alert. It was dumb to fight someone you could not beat. But there were ways to win. The guy who ran the place wasn’t as smart as he thought. Paulo felt sure he could outsmart him. He would wait. He would escape but he would do it in such a way that he was not beaten to death.
Paulo saw that some men wanted to do different things to the boys or have the boys do things to them. That was the part that scared Paulo. He knew his peg was too small for any man but those other things they were doing made Paulo angry and frightened.
Several men looked at Paulo but were not willing to pay the price for a young, fresh boy. Paulo was eventually, however, picked by one of the fancy clothes guys. He was taken to a room with a door and a window. The window was one of those little ones way high up near the ceiling but it was big enough for Paulo to get out. The walls were made of roughhewn boards with places he could get a finger- and toe-hold. Paulo was not worried. He was sure he could get away from the man and he knew he could get out of the building.
He had no clothes but that was the least of his worries. He had to have a plan and he quickly formed one in his mind. The man locked the door. He waited until the man had undressed. He knew a well placed kick would be more effective when not deadened by clothing.
The man moaned with pain and fell to the floor, clutching his private parts in agony. Paulo grabbed his hair and pounded his head repeatedly on the stone floor. The first blow seemed to surprise or stun the man but he was aware enough to try to fight Paulo off. Paulo kept pounding the head on the floor. When the man had stopped fighting and moaning, Paulo scaled the wall and was out the window. He never knew if he had killed the man.
Clothes were not a problem. He knew where boys his age lived and he had snatched a pair of overalls from a clothesline within five minutes.
From that one experience, Paulo had learned quickly. From then on, the streets were his. He could read danger. There were always men on the prowl for street boys and you had to keep an eye out for the police, but Paulo could identify them long before they saw him and he’d disappear as though he had evaporated. He had lived on his own for four years now and there was no place nor anything in San Francisco he did not know.
Paulo’s four years on the street had made him concerned only with himself. He had often taken food or clothing or whatever he wanted from other boys. He did not care about their survival. He cared only about his own.
But this boy was different. He was little and scrawny but he fought like a cougar. While they were still fighting, Paulo knew that he liked this tough, brave little kid. He knew the fight wouldn’t end with a howling, badly beaten urchin desperately running away from him. Paulo knew that he’d either have to kill the boy or make a friend of him. He had too much respect for Levi’s courage to kill him. The fight ended with Paulo mopping at the blood on Levi’s face and the boys cuddling together in the box, sleeping in each other’s warmth.
Other than when he first went on the street and it was dangerous for him to be too visible, Paulo was not a thief. The Italian population of San Francisco were primarily engaged in fishing. Until he was twelve, Paulo stayed away from the oceanfront because of the danger of being caught by the peg house operators. It was during that period that he would steal whatever he could and bully smaller, weaker street children. At twelve he was big enough to be of some value to the fishermen and they would protect him. He had worked regularly at the fish markets, and lately, even on the boats.
Because of the Italian tradition of taking care of their own, when Paulo again made himself visible in the Italian community and they knew that he would not infect their homes, Paulo was offered membership in several families. At first he had accepted a few offers but he had been too long on the street. The kindness of the family Paulo found stifling, even frightening. He could not accept even the loosest of constraints of family living. He was too free a spirit. The men understood. Most of them subconsciously envied the boy’s unencumbered life style. Paulo could have lived with the men. They understood his need to come and go when his whim demanded. It was the women who frightened Paulo and he could not tolerate them.
He could not fathom his feeling. He liked their attention and affection. He enjoyed and needed the hugs and kisses and the kindness. But the pull of the street was too strong. He understood the street. It was his home. Paulo, in fact, loved the street with its excitement, its adventure and even its danger. Paulo did not see himself as a child. He held a sort of mild disdain for children who lived lives of security and comfort. He did not want to be a child, except when he was around women. They made security and comfort too tempting.
There were several homes in which he was welcome any time for a meal and he often went there but he would not live there. He stayed with what he understood. Paulo was not conscious of the reason for his fear. But when one of the women hugged him or was otherwise kind to him he felt a vague sense of foreboding and loss. He had loved and been loved once. That had been taken from him. The memory of that loss was more painful even than the memory of the peg house. The survival requirements of street living kept his mind busy. The safety of a home allowed too much time for remembering. Paulo did not want to remember. He would never understand that he could not accept love because of fear of losing it again.
Paulo made Levi stay hidden while he went to the dock to tell Giuseppe that he would not go out with the boat that day. In fact, he told Giuseppe not to expect him until he saw him again. Giuseppe Russo smiled knowingly as the boy walked away. He had become quite fond of Paulo but he understood and even admired the boy’s independence. “Have fun. I’ll have a job for you when you come back.”
As he walked to where Levi was hidden, Paulo tried to understand why he felt a need to take care of this boy. He wasn’t even Italian. You could tell he wasn’t even from San Francisco. He talked funny. Paulo had never allowed intrusion into his turf and he had learned not to allow himself to become too close to any other street child. You just didn’t know who you could trust, and friends disappeared or died. If you didn’t become friendly, you couldn’t get hurt.
Paulo didn’t have the time to completely think through his attachment to Levi. As he turned the corner of the warehouse he saw an Indian standing near the box. As soon as Paulo was seen, the Indian vanished between the buildings. Paulo was petrified. He had never before seen an Indian in San Francisco. All he knew about Indians was that they were bloodthirsty savages whose only joy in life was taking scalps.
Paulo was both surprised and relieved to see Levi’s hair intact. Levi recognized the fear in Paulo’s face and he then was surprised. In the short time he had known him Levi had come to believe Paulo to be fearless. Before they had slept last night, Paulo had told bravado stories of his escape from the peg house and his life on the streets. He had told stories of vicious storms at sea, none of which, according to Paulo, had scared him. Levi felt himself fortunate to have befriended this boy who knew everything, had been everywhere, and was afraid of nothing. Seeing fear in his face now, frightened Levi.
“I just seen a Indian. Them goddam lubbers will scalp you. We better run. He’s still around here somewhere. I never seen a Indian in San Francisco before.”
Levi’s laugh offended Paulo. He had never allowed himself to be laughed at in derision and that’s what he took Levi’s laugh to be. “He ain’t nothin’ to be scared of. He’s been followin’ us all the way from Carson City but I come to know he ain’t gonna do me no harm. He could have killed me and that goddam Thorn a hundred times, but he never done it. I ain’t sure what he’s up to, but he ain’t nothin’ to be scared of.”
This kid was amazing. He was little and scrawny but he fought like a cougar and he wasn’t scared of Indians. Paulo still didn’t understand his attachment to Levi but the younger boy went up several notches in Paulo’s admiration.
From Paulo’s story about the peg house, both Levi and Paulo knew what Thorn’s intent for Levi had been. Paulo wanted to play today. He wanted to show his new friend the city, but because of Thorn, Paulo knew that the first thing he must do was to teach Levi where it was safe to go, how to disappear between buildings, into doorways, up fire escapes onto rooftops and even into rain barrels and garbage cans if necessary. Paulo told Levi that he could trust no one. Many policemen were tied in to the prostitution houses, and children—both boys and girls—who had gone to the police for help had ended up in some kind of whorehouse somewhere. Levi was told to stay with Paulo all the time. Paulo knew most of the procurers, and you always hid from a cop. Paulo stressed that nobody cared about you, so you couldn’t waste your time caring about anyone else. Levi’s first few days in San Francisco were a crash course in street survival.
But there were safe places to play. Levi desperately wanted to see more of the ocean, to see the big ships and—although the thought frightened him, a desert boy—to play in the water. The ideal place to see ships would have been the Golden Gate but that was too close to Grant Street and the docking areas where the procurers seemed to have an arrangement with the police, and where Thorn might be. Paulo knew that south on the peninsula, away from the city, there were hilltops from which one could see ships entering and leaving the harbor. He knew of rocky beach areas. He knew of tide pools where fish or crabs were frequently isolated at low tide, and easily caught. Levi had never eaten fish but he soon learned that if he were to survive in this place, he’d better learn to like it.
Giuseppe had put word out on the street that he needed Paulo. Antonio was sick and Paulo was needed to complete the crew. After about a week, the word reached Paulo and he had to go. But before Paulo had to go back to Giuseppe, Levi’s days were filled with excitement and fun. He was, really for the first time in his life, just a little boy. He was free of the anger and fear that had been his life. Since he had been kidnapped, he had puzzled over how he felt about his father. He feared the man’s temper but he missed him. Even in Pick’s drunken rages, Levi had known that was not the real man. Levi never knew what, but something drove his father to rage just as things he did not understand drove him to rage. Levi knew that, deep down, he was not as bad as he acted, just as he knew deep down that Pick loved him and regretted his rage-driven abuse of his children. Being away from Pick and the imminent danger of the man’s rage caused the beatings to fade into vague, uncertain memories. At times, Levi was not even sure they had happened. But he was sure of one thing. Levi had never taken time to think about it before, but he loved his father and his brother and sisters. He missed them. He needed to be back with them.
But for a few days, Levi forgot his homesickness and his extreme anger at Thorn. He spent those days with Paulo absorbing amazing sights, learning not to fear the water, watching its different moods, sometimes gently rolling and sometimes throwing huge waves against the rocks and sending spray high into the air, being coaxed into the cold ocean water, being cajoled into dunking his head under the water, being amazed at the ocean’s saltiness, learning that fish and crab, cooked on a stick over a fire, were good.
They spent several days at the ocean on the Pacific side of the peninsula. It had been a long walk to where they played, too far for only a one-day frolic. Actually, they had not walked all the way. Going up the hills, Paulo had taught Levi how to run behind a freight wagon and cling to the tailgate. The hills were steep and walking up would have been an effort but not an impossible one for two rowdy boys. The ride was mostly a thrill, a risk, an accomplishment of doing what they should not have done and not getting caught.
Coming down hills was even greater fun and excitement. Twice they ‘borrowed’ a buggy, tied lengths of rope which Paulo carried for just this purpose to the front ends of the shafts, and used them to steer themselves, at breakneck speed, down the hills. Paulo had mastered the art and knew which streets offered hills safe enough for this adventure. The ride was a thrill and the buggy was usually left, undamaged, at the bottom of the hill. Paulo’s first several tries had resulted in overturned and damaged buggies, and a somewhat damaged boy.
The ships fascinated Levi. Paulo had learned the flags of the various nations whose ships used the San Francisco harbor. For a child whose world until recently had consisted of a few square miles of desert and some mountain foothills, just seeing things that came from exotic places like Japan, or Spain or England, places which Paulo seemed to know everything about, was an overwhelming experience. Actually, Paulo seemed to know everything about everything. Most of it he had invented himself. Although he had taught himself to read, his education was lamentably inadequate, but his listening skills and his memory were highly developed and his imagination was phenomenal. He could tell wonderful stories. It made little difference to Levi whether Paulo’s information had been gleaned from the truth or his imagination. Paulo’s stories made life magic.
Levi went with Paulo to the dock. Paulo thought Giuseppe might have work for Levi. Paulo was more and more impressed with his new friend. Levi had been hesitant about the ocean but he quickly overcame his reticence and would try anything Paulo tried. The kid had guts. In Paulo’s mind this was the first boy who came close to being like he was. How could he not like him? Paulo was proud of himself. How could he not make a friend of one so like him?
They were not to learn that day if Giuseppe would hire Levi. As they approached the wharf, Levi saw Thorn. Levi hardly recognized him. The Thorn he knew was an arrogant, brutal man. This man was tentative and submissive. He was talking to two men who Paulo described as shanghaiers. But, when Thorn saw Levi his arrogance was restored. The little bastard had made a fool of him. Now the little shit would find out who was the fool.
Thorn left the two men and ran after the boy but Levi had learned his lessons well. He was around a corner and then was simply gone.
Thorn would have continued the search. The boy had to be somewhere. Sooner or later he would have to show himself. But, as he had almost daily since they arrived in San Francisco, the Indian appeared. He stepped out of a doorway and stood just long enough to be sure Thorn would run after him. And then he too vanished.
Bill Thorn had lived his entire life assuming that he was superior to everyone around him. When it suited his purposes, as it had in Carson City, he could be congenial and cooperative. But even when maintaining those facades, Bill Thorn still knew he was controlling the events and the lives around him. On the San Francisco waterfront, he had been his real self, arrogant, cruel and pugnacious. When congeniality and cooperation had not been necessary tools, what he was had always worked for him in the past. But in only a week, he had been thoroughly beaten three times. The procurers, the waterfront police and the shanghaiers would not be spoken to impudently, nor would they be badly treated, and, Thorn was to find, they were much tougher, more cruel, and much more streetwise than he was.
Thorn had continued to look for Levi, but he thought he’d make some money while he was looking by grabbing other boys for the houses. He took a young Italian boy who was taking his father’s lunch to him at the wharf. When it became known in the Italian community what had happened to Paulo, the peg house operators quickly found that it was not wise to use Italian boys. The peg house operator who had taken Paulo was found dead within a week of Paulo’s escape and the Italian fishermen let it be known that the same fate awaited anyone who tried to use another Italian boy. Thorn’s blunder was quickly reported and Thorn found that it was extremely dangerous and painful to interfere in the Italian community.
Life at sea was often almost slavery. Cruel captains usually had several men jump ship in every port. As a result of that, a brisk business in shanghaing was carried on in most ports. Thorn had dealt in humans all his life. This seemed a natural business for him. He knew nothing about the unspoken agreements that allocated sections of the city and certain docks to specific practitioners of the occupation. Again, Thorn’s viciousness was nothing compared to that he experienced as a lesson in the respect of territories.
The Indian was not the administrator, but he was the cause of the third beating. Thorn’s emotional stability had been under attack since Dodd had arrived in Carson City. He had lost his hold on that town just as he had lost everything in Mississippi. An eleven-year-old boy had outwitted him and he was no match for the local toughs. For one as arrogant and cruel as Thorn, that would have been enough to loosen his grip on reality. But that damn Indian. Thorn could neither shake him nor catch him. He was always there, badgering Thorn. Thorn knew that. What did he want and why did that faint recognition fill him with a mixture of anger, hatred and fear?
Thorn had seen the Indian peering through the saloon window. He actually felt him before he saw him. He felt that Indian often, felt that sense of intrusion and foreboding. It tormented both his mind and body and froze his very soul. Thorn would never have admitted it had he realized it, but the Indian was slowly driving him mad.
On seeing the Indian that night, Thorn hurled threats and curses at him. The very large miner standing at the bar beside Thorn misunderstood the intended recipient of the verbal barrage and took umbrage. For the third time in six days, Thorn lay bloody and unconscious on the floor.
Thorn’s pursuit of the Indian had allowed Levi to leave his hiding place and head for a safer part of town. There were many stores and many people on Kearny Street, and Levi could kind of blend in. He felt safe there but he still felt he had to be alert. He wanted somewhere he felt sure Thorn would not go.
He remembered the thicket from his first night. He caught his reflection in a store window and he didn’t look that bad. He didn’t look any worse than most of the other boys he saw on Kearny Street, and people in San Francisco didn’t know him. Just being a Fillion got you run off in Carson City, even if you wasn’t doin’ nothin’. Levi reckoned he could get back to that thicket patch and not attract too much attention.
He was right. He couldn’t be completely sure no one had seen him crawl into the thicket, but he felt safe. He knew that Paulo would be at sea for several days and this would be a good place to hide. Levi spent the first day hidden in the thicket and was not bothered. He had not been seen. He found that he could come and go unnoticed if he was very careful that the children from the house next door were not playing outside.
He had some close calls. Once the family dog barked at the thicket and the boy tried to call him away. The dog persisted in his barking and the boy came to investigate. Levi was sure he was caught but he understood why he was not. The boy was about his age and he looked as Levi would have looked. His investigation was so cursory that he did not see Levi. The boy decided that it was probably some animal and that the dog had scared it off.
About two weeks after Levi began regularly to spend his nights in the thicket, he was awakened unusually early one morning by the excited chatter of the younger children. The man who lived there and a Mexican man were loading boxes and suitcases into the very fancy carriage Levi had seen used when the whole family went somewhere. He heard the girl talking about seeing grandpa and the boy admonishing the Mexican man to take good care of his dog because they were going to be gone for a whole month.
Levi got an empty feeling. He was alone and, although he would never consciously admit it, he was afraid. He wasn’t part of that family but he had begun to pretend he was. Paulo was at sea most of the time and now ‘his’ family was going to be gone for a month.
But, it wasn’t so bad. When his boy was gone the dog began to come to the thicket every day. Levi petted and made over the dog and soon the two were friends. After that, the dog would come to visit several times a day. Levi would often find him lying in the thicket, waiting for him when he came ‘home’ in the evening. To the dog, a boy was a boy and since his was gone, Levi would do just fine.
Levi’s days were full. He could find work and, when Paulo was in port, they played together. Nights, while the family was gone, were long and frightening but the dog often slept in the thicket with him and that helped some. Levi worried about his friendship with the dog. Would he disclose his hiding place when the family returned?
It turned out not to be a problem. After he had his own boy back, the dog generally paid no attention to Levi when the children were outside. The dog was not a problem. The thicket was some distance from the house and large trees made a view of the thicket from the house difficult. Levi had a home and even occasionally brought Paulo to sleep there when he was not at sea. It was the one place he knew for sure that Thorn would not look for him. Most days he’d try to leave before daylight so he would not be seen by the family but sometimes he slept until daylight. He’d then have to take his chances. He’d leave when the children were not outside and when the dog wasn’t around but he was never sure he wouldn’t get caught. It was both frightening and exciting. Levi loved the risk but he feared what might happen to him if he were caught. He tried to be back just at dusk. He didn’t want to be where Thorn could sneak up on him in the dark but he didn’t want to be seen by the family either. Getting into and out of his thicket were problems but, once there, he was all right at night, at least as far as the family and Thorn were concerned.
He felt safe during the nights but he hated them. When he was alone and his mind was not occupied with protecting himself, he allowed the tears that were always just below the surface to flow. The tears were for his lost feeling, for the family he missed, and for the love and security he’d never really known. From his hiding place, he watched the children of the house. The boy about his size sassed his mother and she seemed so nice. Levi thought if he had a mother like that, he’d talk nice to her. The girl who looked about Minnie’s age didn’t come out much and when she did, she went off with some other girls. There were older girls, too old to play in the yard. Occasionally a boy would drive up in a fancy rig and take one of the girls off somewhere. Usually she got scolded by the man for staying out so late. But the man didn’t hit her or cuss her and sometimes he saw the man or the mother hugging one of the children. Levi wished he’d had that and he would softly cry himself to sleep.
One particular night, Elizabeth did not sleep well. Her incongruity had been heavy upon her. She could see the bay from her window and loved to sit in the window seat, absorbing its various moods. The next morning she sat, conscious of the view, but mostly pondering her dilemma. The rising sun was beautiful, sending shimmering beacons toward her as if to beckon her to cross that bay and go home to Dodd. She wept softly. She loved Dodd. She needed Dodd. Her work was not the barrier, she knew that now. If she wanted to work, Dodd would not object.
She had spent many nights like that one, awake, thinking and confused. Was this a premonition of her early death? She knew her love for Dodd would not allow her to put him through that. Was it a calling from God? Was she to be a missionary? She could not ask Dodd to go to Africa or China, or some other far-off land. But then she would become angry with herself. She was a rational woman. She did not believe in premonitions or callings.
Occasionally she wondered at the reality of her love for Dodd. Did she, in the deep recesses of her sub-conscious, not love him? That could not be it. If that were the case, why would her conscious so yearn for him? That morning she was wondering at her sanity.
The shadowy figure of a young boy, darting from a thicket, pulled her from her reverie. The clump of wild bushes was just off James’s property and she had never really noticed it before. Whoever that boy was, he was about the size of Jamie. Jamie was not a bad boy but he certainly was a willful one. He had had a loud and angry dispute with his mother as he was being put to bed. Was he running away?
Elizabeth left her window and quietly opened the door to Jamie’s room. The child was there, sleeping peacefully. It would be weeks before Levi would know how close he had come to being rescued that morning.
Levi was becoming more and more at home in the city. He spent as much time as he could with Paulo but Antonio had died and Paulo was now a regular member of Giuseppe’s crew. When he was not at sea, he was working on the dock. Occasionally Giuseppe would give him a day off to ‘play’ with Levi, but Paulo now saw himself as a man, and although he still saw Levi as a very good friend, he viewed carefree play as childish and beneath him. He was a regular crew member. He did a man’s work so he decided that he was a man. Levi was a boy and he may have been playing on those days and even though he was doing the same things, in Paulo’s mind, he was not playing. He was entertaining and watching over the child.
One place that fascinated Levi but even Paulo did not casually go was Chinatown. Many Chinese people had come to San Francisco when the railroad was being built. They were in America but they wanted to live like they did in China. They talked funny, like Giuseppe did sometimes, only they didn’t sound like Giuseppe. It almost sounded like they were singing. Paulo explained that a lot of white folks was real mean to Chinamen so they didn’t trust no white folks. There was also some real bad men in there, not bad like Thorn, but they were bad. Paulo didn’t know for sure what made them bad but they were called the Tong and all the Chinamen was scared of them so it made sense to Paulo to stay away from them. Chinatown was the one part of San Francisco that Paulo did not know well. He knew his way around in there but he did not really know the area.
Levi’s fascination, however, pulled hard at him. He did not wander far into the Chinese neighborhoods but what he saw on the fringes was exciting. They built their houses differently. They dressed differently, everybody wore pants: the men, the ladies, and the boys and girls, and you could tell from the smells, they ate a different kind of food. The ladies all walked behind the men and they took real tiny steps and always kept their heads down.
Levi tried to make friendly gestures toward some boys but they would have nothing to do with him. He didn’t get the feeling they didn’t like him or that they were afraid of him, just that they wanted nothing to do with him. Levi felt a strange emptiness and a touch of anger. He had not been well accepted in Carson City but he was never totally ignored. Levi thought of the few times an Indian family had tried to send their children to the school in Carson City. Those children had been ignored. Levi understood now why they didn’t stay.
Levi saw Thorn now and then but the man stayed drunk most of the time and, while he was still a threat, his condition made him not much of one. Sometime he would chase Levi but the man could hardly walk, much less run. Mostly he just cussed and threatened. And the Indian was still there. Although they had never spoken, they had developed a kind of friendship. The Indian no longer disappeared when he saw Levi. He still kept his hat pulled low over his eyes but he would smile at Levi when they passed each other on the street. Levi could see then that he didn’t look like any Indian he’d ever seen before. His skin was more tan than bronze and Levi had the strangest feeling that he looked some like Thorn.
The boy had no problem finding things to eat. Paulo, when he was in port, frequently took him to one of the several homes that would feed them. In a few of them, Levi was welcome to come even when Paulo wasn’t there. He had even been invited to stay with one family but Levi had a family and by now he was very much like Paulo when they had first met. He enjoyed the street life and being too long with a family made the remembering too hard. He preferred the street.
Actually, he preferred his thicket clump. Thorn might stay too drunk to catch him but if he were to find the boy asleep, there was still danger. Thorn would not venture this far from Grant Street and, although he would never consciously admit it, Levi now imagined himself a member of the family who lived next to the thicket. He knew, of course, that he wasn’t, but he could pretend and feel loved and secure in his reverie. The problem was that one woke from daydreams and then reality was more painful.
There were also subtle changes in the boy. He had learned the hard way that anger solved nothing and that it usually ended up hurting him, a lot. He still felt anger, of course, but he had learned not to act in anger. Beatings by Thorn and Paulo had started the lesson but eluding Thorn had sealed it in his mind. He realized that he did not make good decisions when angry. Twice, Thorn had almost caught him because his first impulse was anger, not reason. The first time he had charged at Thorn and clawed, kicked and bit. The second time he had stood what he thought was far enough away and cursed Thorn. One of Thorn’s drunken friends had come up behind him and grabbed him. Both times the Indian had appeared before Levi could be taken off. Levi was now convinced that the Indian was protecting him but good judgment told the boy that there could be a time when the Indian wasn’t there. Levi had changed from an angry, impulsive child to a rational, careful, even thoughtful, one.
In spite of the aura of homesick sadness that was always with him, Levi was happier than he had ever been in his life. It confused him but he had learned that it was much more pleasant to keep himself clean, so he felt physically more comfortable. His careful, thoughtful approach to life—not other people’s actions, as had been the case in his reactionary past—now put him in charge of his life. Even his constant sadness felt better than his former constant anger. At eleven, one doesn’t consciously put all that into rational perspective, so Levi just lived and wondered how he could feel both happy and sad at the same time.
This new attitude toward himself resulted in a new approach to other people. He no longer had to depend on Paulo for food. He found many ways to make himself useful to the merchants on Kearny Street. He ran errands, delivered packages and even in some stores, waited on customers. He was able to earn more than was necessary to keep himself fed. He hid his extra money in a hole in the thicket. When he had enough, he’d get to Sacramento somehow and buy a train ticket back to Carson City.
When he thought of Carson City, he also thought of a filthy home and a drunken, angry father. He knew he loved the man, but he also knew that he no longer wanted to live as he remembered his life in Carson City. He craved the love and security he saw surrounding what he’d come to call the next-door-thicket-kids and he wanted that from the father he loved. He just didn’t know if the man knew how to give it.
Again, Levi was all mixed up. He wanted to go home but he also wanted to be happy as he was now. It didn’t seem to him that he could ever have both. The longing for the family he loved actually made him ache physically, but he thought if he were to go back to them, that love would be lost again in filth and anger. He came to the conclusion that if he were to continue to love them, as he wanted desperately to do, it would be better to stay away from them. He thought he had decided never to go back to Carson City. He really didn’t understand why he kept saving money for the train trip home. He decided not to try to figure out his feelings. It wasn’t hurtin’ nothin’, him savin’ that money, so he’d just keep savin’. Maybe he’d change his mind and decide to go home someday.
Nothing was as simple as it had once seemed. For example, Levi saw Thorn frequently now. He should hate the man but Levi didn’t know quite how to react to him anymore. What Thorn had done to him and had intended for him still made Levi angry, but the man was now pathetic. Levi knew that Thorn was still a danger so he remained alert, but this man who had lived his whole life intimidating and brutalizing people had been intimidated and brutalized himself into a miserable, whining derelict of a man who drew a kind of unintended and unwilling pity from Levi.
Thorn had long ago spent or had stolen from him the money he’d brought with him and now often did not have the funds to get himself drunk. Not only did he not have the anesthetic of alcohol but he now frequently would leave reality and live in a world of Indian- and hate-generated delusion. Occasionally that delusion would place him back in a position of power. Then he would be his old arrogant, swaggering self, cruel and dangerous. But his delusion was more often filled with the horror of Indians, one in particular, menacing and bloodthirsty. He would then draw himself into a fetal position and tremble in panic. It was at those times that Levi couldn’t help himself. He pitied the man.
At first, none of the shops on Kearny Street had regular work for Levi but that was fine with him. He could usually find work when he wanted it and not being committed to one person, he could also play when he wanted to. He would generally make the rounds of several shops each morning to see if he would be needed that day. Some of the shopkeepers divided their work among several boys. It was their way of keeping the boys fed and still letting them be boys. Levi followed Paulo’s advice and did not become too close with any of the other street boys but he would go on an occasional outing with other boys. They went to the usual places: to the ocean, and in groups to the wharves, and they hung around the edges of Chinatown. Levi was quite popular because he had mastered Paulo’s skill with the downhill buggy rides. He really was good. He never wrecked a buggy and he never got caught.
As the weeks passed, Cyrus Manning, who ran a prosperous general store became aware of Levi’s intelligence and industry. The intelligence was untrained and the industry immature, but Manning saw the potential and took a special liking to Levi. Mister Manning needed good help and offered Levi regular work. He was the owner who trusted Levi to wait on customers. Levi felt honored and he understood—and took seriously—the responsibility. But what he really liked was being sent to deliver merchandise to customers with Mister Manning’s horse and rig. Levi now had a regular job and he felt that he was as grown up as Paulo.
Mister Manning took pride in his possessions. He kept fine horses, and kept the harness oiled and the brass polished. He kept the rigs brightly painted and shiny. Levi, who had been so used to chaos, was amazed at how much easier life was when things were done in an orderly manner.
Levi was very fond of Mister Manning and began to imitate his habits of order, thoroughness, and neatness. Manning saw that and to reward and encourage Levi’s effort had a special uniform made for the boy with a military looking cap and jacket. Levi felt like a king, dressed up fine, driving that rig. He used his best manners with the customers and was usually given an extra dime which he could keep for himself.
The deliveries were always in the swanky part of town, not far, really from Levi’s thicket. In fact a frequent stop was at the house next to the thicket. The people’s name was Forrest. He thought of asking if they knew any Forrests in Carson City but it was really none of his business and the fact that he knew Forrests in Carson City was none of theirs. He was pretty sure they were part of the same Forrests, though. He had seen a sign on Kearny Street, across from Portsmouth Square that said, ‘Luke Forrest and Sons Silver and Gold Exchange’. The sign looked just like the sign on Mister Josh Forrest’s office in Carson City. Levi didn’t like going down Kearny Street. His daddy worked for the Luke Forrest and Sons Silver and Gold Exchange and Levi didn’t want to think about his daddy. He didn’t want that mixed-up feeling during the day. He had enough of it when he was trying to go to sleep at night.
It wasn’t often that Levi saw Paulo anymore. When he went out with the boat, Paulo was usually gone four or five days. When he was in port, he was busy unloading the catch and getting ready for the next trip. But in spite of what Paulo thought of himself, Giuseppe knew he was a boy and needed time to be a boy from time to time. Levi had gotten used to being without Paulo but he still considered him almost a brother. It made him feel almost loved that it was Levi Paulo came looking for when he was given time off from the boat.
Paulo had finally gotten Giuseppe’s okay to take Levi along on a fishing trip. Giuseppe had a superstition that it was bad luck to take an immature boy or a female fishing. The superstition said that the Virgin Mary, in order to protect women and children, would cause the fish to disappear. When no fish could be caught, the ship would return to shore and the women and children to safety. Giuseppe had never broken the superstition. Paulo was well into adolescence before he was taken fishing. He had been out when it was a matter of moving the boat from one dock to another or when Giuseppe was taking his family to Santa Cruz to see his wife’s parents, but only when he was sure that Paulo was becoming a man would he take the boy fishing.
Giuseppe had, however, been embarrassed by his tendency to cling to his old world superstitions. He was an American now and he knew only Italians believed in those kinds of things. He was of two minds when he agreed that Levi could go out with them. He felt very American but he was also scared to death.
It was Levi’s excitement that caused Mister Manning to agree that Levi should take the day off and go with the fishing boat. He had become very fond of the boy and, like Giuseppe, understood that boys needed a chance to play now and then. While Paulo had warned Levi that the work on a fishing boat was very hard, it was the adventure and excitement that would make it play for Levi.
Elizabeth thought, at first, she might go home. The research was complete, the restructure documents in final draft form. All that remained was for each of the brothers to read and approve. Matt Forrest and David Barton, one of the San Francisco legal staff, would travel to each of the brothers’ homes, explain the documents, take any suggestions for revision, and return to San Francisco where the documents would be put in final form. Elizabeth would be needed for that and the thought of two trips in the period of a little more than a week did not appeal to her. She was, however, extremely anxious to get back to Dodd. She had no more ambiguity in her feelings. She loved Dodd, wanted to be his wife, and missed him desperately.
Elizabeth’s revelation came to her at a time and in a way she would never have expected. Now that she had the time, she spent much of her time playing with James’s children. She loved rowdy games—she always had—and Jamie loved to roughhouse. He had invented a game for them to play. He would run at her and she was to try to grab him and pull him to the ground while he dodged and wiggled and squirmed to avoid her.
She usually caught him and then would tickle him. She loved his giggle and she loved acting like a kid. She was having enormous fun when the thought struck her. She loved this. She didn’t ever want to stop and suddenly she understood her reticence. It was simply her youth and her love of life and excitement. Marriage was so final, the end of childhood and the beginning of commitment and responsibility, and—during her period of ambiguity—the thought that she must become serious and dourly.
Elizabeth had always been an adventurous child. Her torn bloomers were just one of many examples in which she had pushed safety to the limit. Her need for excitement and thrills had been the distinguishing characteristic of her life and the horror of her parents. Marriage was for adults. Elizabeth smiled, now, as she thought about it. She had just not wanted to grow up. No, that was not exactly correct. She was in fact grown up. She was, in fact, a very responsible and mature woman, but her mother had so often said that she must grow up when she failed to fit into the accepted matronly mode. She realized now that she harbored an unconscious rebellion against that so frequently heard motherly admonition. Her time in San Francisco had been her awakening. All of the things she thought she would have to give up were not as important as Dodd. Besides, Dodd being who he was, she probably would have to give up nothing she wished not to give up.
She had already broken the mold by practicing law. Why could she not continue to ride spirited horses, climb mountains or roughhouse with children? Why could she not, at appropriate times, continue to wear Levis and boots? In the past she had always been ladylike when the situation called for it. Her reticence had been that she could not imagine her mother doing the things she so much enjoyed, things she did not want to give up. But she was not her mother. Her mother enjoyed humor and was far from dour, but neither was she as adventuresome as Elizabeth. Her mother would not go to the privy alone after dark. Elizabeth had done that since she was five. She loved her mother, but she was not her mother. It seemed so foolish to Elizabeth now that she had thought all married women must be as reserved, dignified, and wary as was her mother, or as dour as some of the other distinguished ladies in her life. She had resented her mother’s admonition to grow up, but she had subconsciously accepted it as necessary.
Dodd had encouraged Elizabeth not to make the trip to Carson City only to have to return so soon. Dodd, too, now had a brighter outlook and a lighter step. Elizabeth had told him in letters of her revelation and had been assured that her adventuresome spirit was one of the things that made her so appealing to him. Dodd assured her that he sincerely hoped that she would never lose it and he wanted no part of being married to a dour woman.
Elizabeth decided to use the time before Matt and David returned doing and seeing the things she most enjoyed about San Francisco. Either with James’s younger children or alone she went daily to one of her favorite spots. Much of San Francisco was still too dangerous for a woman, or even a well-dressed man, to go unprotected. James hired a coachman who doubled as a bodyguard and he drove Elizabeth to the places she wanted to see.
The wharves had always fascinated her. Jamie and Lucinda had been there many times but they, too, were fascinated by the boats and the bustle, and the amazing assortment of fish to be seen. The day they went to the wharves there were no tuna to be seen. Those huge fish were Jamie’s favorites and his disappointment at not seeing them drove Elizabeth to ask when and where they might be seen. In broken, barely understood English she was told that the day’s catch had already been sent to the market at the corner of Grant and Market Streets. Anywhere near Grant Street was no place for children but Jamie’s persistence caused Elizabeth to give in. Anyway, most of the unsavory places were farther north on Grant.
Jamie saw his huge fish. Jamie weighed about seventy-five pounds. Some of those tuna, he was told, weighed over one hundred pounds. He marveled at the size of fish that were bigger than he was but Jamie was not the type to give his attention too long to anything. He was ready to leave as soon as he had seen what he had come to see. Neither he nor Elizabeth had any way of knowing that they had been spotted by someone who had torment in his brain and malice in his heart.
Elizabeth had been repulsed by the filthy derelict sitting, leaning against the fish market mumbling to himself but she did not recognize him. Thorn was no longer the strong, healthy man he’d been when he lived in Carson City. He was emaciated from too much drinking and too little eating. He realized he was hungry only when he could not get liquor. On those days, he would sit by one of the markets, hoping to be given food out of the goodness of someone’s heart, or at least find something edible in what was thrown away.
Evidently Thorn’s hatred was stronger than his fear. Fear seemed to have made him a mindless fool but when he recognized Elizabeth, his mind immediately cleared and he became his old cunning, cruel self. He knew he had no chance to do her harm there. She had an armed man with her. But if she was in town, she would probably turn up eventually at the Luke Forrest and Sons Silver and Gold Exchange over on Kearny Street.
Thorn hated the boy for having made a fool of him but this woman, well, had it not been for her he’d still be in the money in Carson City. The boy could wait. Thorn would have plenty of time to get the boy. Elizabeth Hatcher was his real problem. She was the reason that Dodd Forrest had come to Carson City. She had made a fool of Travis Butler and since Butler was his man, through Butler she had made a fool of him. He may never be able to take back Carson City but he could make Carson City pay. This goddam woman was the daughter of one of the town big shots. She had been the sweetheart of Dodd Forrest who had also made a fool of Thorn. Of course, Dodd was dead, but killing Elizabeth would add misery to Josh, who, with Herbert Hatcher had always gotten in his way in Carson City. Damned uppity-ups.
Thorn hated Elizabeth Hatcher but for several weeks, that hatred had been but a dull memory. Seeing her cleared his mind and made that hatred very real again, and very demanding. Perhaps she was protected now but he had time. He’d hide himself near the Luke Forrest and Sons Silver and Gold Exchange. She would not know he was there. She would not always be protected. He would have his chance and he would kill her.
Levi Fillion had never been so excited. The sun shone brightly and the ocean seemed a mirror of the blue sky and yellow sun as they passed through the Golden Gate from the bay to the sea. There was a good wind and they moved quickly to the area Giuseppe planed to fish that day. This was to be a one-day trip. It was late summer and bringing ice from the mountains was a waste of time. It was almost impossible to reach and had usually melted by the time it was gotten to the docks. When there was no ice, fishing trips could be only one day. The fish had to be sold on the day they were caught.
Levi mostly watched. When reeling nets in or out, the crew had to move quickly and there was no time to show a green hand what was to be done. It was a good day and Levi shivered with glee each time the nets were brought in with the shimmering, wriggling haul. They were taking sardines that day. Levi had hoped to see the kind of big fish he had seen the evening Thorn brought him into San Francisco but he was not disappointed. Seeing fish in such large numbers was just as good.
The fishing was so good and the men so busy that they failed to notice the cloud bank on the western horizon. Actually, it was almost overhead before choppy surf called it to their attention. Giuseppe knew the sea and the sky. He ordered his men to quickly haul in and stow the nets and set the sails. They were out a little over ten miles and Giuseppe knew they were in for some rough water. He knew he could get them home but he also knew that Levi had no sea legs. As a precaution, which Paulo patiently explained, Levi was tied to the mast. He was told that waves might sweep over him but not to worry. The boat would not sink and, since he was tied to the mast, he would not be swept overboard.
He remembered Paulo’s stories about storms at sea. Paulo had made them sound like fun and so that’s what Levi thought he was in for. It might have been, had Levi not been so sick. Water did sweep over him and that was fun. He felt safe, tied as he was to the mast. But the rolling and pitching motion of the boat had him first, dizzy, then so sick that even after he had no more to throw up, he kept retching. To make matters worse, Paulo was laughing at him. Levi wasn’t really angry at Paulo but he wished Paulo had picked a less difficult time to show off.
They made it through the Golden Gate just in time. It proved to be one of the more severe storms. Even the sheltered bay was as choppy as Giuseppe had ever seen it, but certainly much less violent than the open ocean. Levi was untied from the mast.
As they approached their dock, Paulo was still in a frivolous mood. He was enjoying displaying his manliness and seaworthiness to Levi. As his coup de grâce he decided to leap from the boat to the dock with the rope rather than throw it to the seaman waiting to tie it off. When Giuseppe realized what Paulo was about to do, he yelled but he was too late. The boy ran across the deck, planted a foot on the rail and leaped. Had the water been calm, it would not have been a foolish thing to do. But, just as the boy jumped, the undulating sea pulled the boat away from the dock and Paulo’s leap fell short. He was able to grasp the edge of the dock and hung there precariously while the men waiting to tie off the boat ran to pull him to safety.
They were too late. The motion of the sea threw the boat crashing into the dock. Levi could hear the crushing of bones even above the wind and wild sea. Paulo seemed to turn and look at Levi but his eyes were empty and blood was coming from his nose and ears. As the boat moved again away from the dock, Paulo’s body dropped heavily into the water, leaving only a blood red marker where should have been a lively, happy boy.
No one had to tell Levi that Paulo was dead. He had seen his mother killed. He knew the look of death. Levi let out a sound that would have been more appropriate coming from a demon from hell. It was not a yell not a scream. It could not, in fact, be described. It had to be felt. It embodied all his anger, fear, and sadness of the last several weeks and the horror of the moment. He did not cry. He simply continued to emit that awful sound.
One of the men went over the side in an attempt to rescue the boy but Levi did not want to be there if the body was found. He had seen enough of mangled dead bodies when he looked in horror at his dead mother. As soon as the boat was finally secured, Levi was on the dock, running wildly. He had to get to the one place that might offer sanctuary and perhaps even some love and compassion. He first thought of Manning’s general Store but that was too far away. The only other place in San Francisco where that might be for Levi was the Luke Forrest and Sons Silver and Gold Exchange.
Levi had no way of knowing that one just walked into an office so he pounded on the door. It opened and Levi was looking into the face of Elizabeth Hatcher. He yelled, “Teacher!” wrapped his arms around her, buried his face in her bosom and began to sob. Elizabeth had not gotten a good enough look to even know who this boy was. There was too much emotion in the voice for it to be recognized. Levi Fillion came to mind but that was almost too much to wish for. But, the boy obviously knew her and she could think of no other child she had taught who might be in San Francisco. Whoever he was, this child knew her and he was obviously in emotional pain. She held him to her and spoke comfortingly to him. It was several minutes before she could withdraw his face from her and identify the weeping child. That done, she too began to weep, both for having found the boy safely and for whatever was causing him so much distress at the moment.
She felt the boy being jerked from her grasp. She felt an arm go around her neck and then slowly pull away until she felt only the sharp edge of what she knew was a knife against her throat. She recognized the voice. “You ain’t so goddamned uppity now, are you, Miss big shot lawyer? I’m gonna pull this blade real slow across your throat so you’ll know and feel you’re dyin’ and know that Bill Thorn ain’t nothin’ to trifle with.” Thorn held Levi by the hair with his other hand. “And you, boy, you damn-near blinded me. I’m gonna cut your eyes out one at a time, real slow. Let you see what it’s like not bein’ able to see nothin’. Then I’m gonn— Agh…”
Thorn let the knife fall from his hand and slowly released his grip on Levi. He stood weaving for only a moment and then fell on his face, a knife protruding from his back.
From somewhere the Indian appeared and was standing over him. He pulled the knife from Thorn’s back and rolled him over. “Looks like you won again, Massa William. When you done what you done to my baby, usin’ her like you done and cuttin’ her throat, I just want to make you feel the scare she feel and the hate I feel. I never did want to kill you like I done your mamma and our daddy. Them two was mean and hateful and needed killin’, but I didn’t want to do no more killin’. But jus’ like when we was boys, you makin’ me do stuff I don’t want to. I know I gonna burn in hell. A man what kills his daddy and his brother ain’t good for nothin’ but hell. But a man what would sell chillen away from their mama or throw babies in the river or use my little girl like a whore and cut her throat needs hell, too. I tried to make your hell here so I could watch you suffer and I done it but now you make me kill you.”
Thorn looked with horror into the Indian’s face. It all became clear now, all those months of mental agony. The face belonged to his nigger half-brother.
Thorn had known since he was a boy that his father had gone often to the quarters to satisfy his need. By the color of their skin and their facial features, Thorn knew that several of his father’s niggers carried the same blood he did. He was never sure, because in his adolescence he, his father, and the overseer used some of the same niggers, but he thought he had fathered some of them high yellow niggers. It did not matter that they might be his offspring. He loathed niggers. Even now, as he feared he was about to die, he raged that he had been outsmarted by a nigger but he was what he was. His begging was the whimpering, whining of a coward. “Don’t let me die, Ruben. We got the same blood.”
“When we was boys that blood didn’t mean nothin’ to you. I wanted to be your brother but I was never nothin’ to you but ‘Come here, nigger’. I hope that blood that’s runnin’ out of you now is what you and me has the same. I knows I’ll burn in hell, but I ain’t goin’ now like you is. I don’t want to live thinkin’ you went to hell carryin’ the same blood as me.
“You gonna die. I couldn’t stop that if I wanted to, and I don’t want to. You done that to me. You and our daddy made me a killer so jus’ lay there and think on the job you done.”
As long as he had the strength, Thorn continued his cowardly pleading for his life but the ‘Indian’ said no more. He simply continued to lean over Thorn until the blood was gone from his body and the life was gone from his eyes. When he was sure that Thorn was dead, he stood, tipped his hat at Levi and disappeared into the rain and mist.
Copyright © 2003 Gordon L. Klopfenstein