The Last of the Light

“So that light-footed man of yours is gone again.”

Lily straightens. She’s been washing clothes, hauling water from the well in wooden buckets that leave splinters in her hands. The heat presses like an anvil on her back and her head aches with the hard white light of another spring morning in the desert. That relentless light lulls her into numbness, squeezes thought from her brain. She has to squint to make out the squat dark shape of Tia Rosa, emerging soundlessly from a tangle of crosote and low mesquites at the edge of the yard.

Lily wipes her hair from her face with a sweat-slick hand and smiles gratefully. That’s how it’s been, these long days with Ethan gone more than he’s home, and the baby a screaming nightmare from dawn to dusk and all into the night.

Most every morning, Tia Rosa comes striding over the hill; some days she’ll sit and smoke and laugh with Lily till the last of the light, when hoof beats on the road tell them both that Ethan’s come back. Then Tia Rosa melts into the lengthening shadows, disappearing back over the hill as Ethan’s horse swings round the last bend.

“He’s just gone up to Meridian to buy a bull, He’ll be back by suppertime,” says Lily. Her hopes are on that bull: all the long hard months since they’d left Saint Louis redeemed, if only Ethan can get his herd started and get his hand in the money of running cattle.

She drapes the last of the baby’s diaper cloths over a rock. Tiny mica chips in the rock catch the sun, flashing in her eyes like stars. She blinks away blue spots.

“We’re goin to be all right now.”

“All right how?” Tia Rosa settles on a broad white stone and lights her pipe. She has a face like wrinkled leather and broad cheekbones furrowed as the washes before the summer rains come down.

Her hair is still black, snaking from two messy buns above her ears, but it’s thin and brittle and there are bald patches on her scalp. Tia wears the same faded blue dress all the time and her feet in twisted rope sandals make Lily think of rocks. Tia Rosa belongs to this land. But fair-haired Lily, in her sprigged dress and boots and sunbonnet, rubs her sun-reddened arms and envies the old woman’s toughness.

“Ethan read all about it,” she tells Tia Rosa. “How to be a cattle baron. Acres and acres of land, and a fine big house. It’s just been harder than he thought to get started.”

Tia Rosa takes a pull on her pipe.

“Girl, girl. Don’t you know they’s more than bulls in Meridian? It’s the fillies you got to watch out for. Your man’s goin down to Maggie’s cat house, and then he is goin over to the Diamond Dog and piss away the rest of your money with some gamblin man. Then he’ll be home tonight without a bull in sight.”

“You don’t know that,” snaps Lily. Both women fall silent. That silence rings in Lily’s ears, vast and empty and oddly comforting. The baby is still sleeping in his cradle on the porch. “Ethan isn’t like that.”

“Huh.” Tia Rosa heaves herself up and stretches. “What makes you think I don’t? All you see is just some old half-breed woman. But ain’t nothing in this valley I don’t know about. Just ask Scout.”

Lily squints at the sun, midmorning high in the sky. Ethan’s been gone since dawn. “I’m going to fry up some bread. Do you want some?”

Tia Rosa scratches her ribs, shaking her head as she always does when Lily offers food.

“Adios, mija.” The old woman stops, cocking her head to listen. “Now what’s that? Can’t be mister moneyman back already. You got that gun by you, girl?”

Lily peers past Tia Rosa. Down the hill, dust is rising on the skinny little road that links up the homestead with the main road between Mexico and Meridian. In the singing silence she can just hear the sound of hooves.

She quicksteps back to the porch and snatches the rifle leaning against the steps. Cradling the hot metal against her ribs, she waits. Ethan’s taught her how to use the thing – of course, a frontier wife has to take care of herself. But she’s never fired it at anything but a tin can.

Yet.

Around that last bend in the road, the hoof beats grow closer till an ugly little trap appears, drawn by an ugly mule and bearing an ugly man in a black frock coat. The man pulls the trap up into the yard and scrambles down.

“Missus Pollard?” he sweeps off a dusty black hat. “Remember me? Reverend Shawn, Henry Shawn?” His face is round and greasy, fat mutton chop whiskers yellowed with sweat and dust. He reeks, even from a distance.

Yes, she does remember him, and his mean little church too, nothing but benches under a tent in the raw desert outside that brawling silver mining town of Meridian. Remembers his reedy angry voice speaking of sin, and those fat fingers squeezing her own after the service. She and Ethan had never gone back.

“What can I do for you, Reverend?” she asks. She lets the gun droop a little, but her finger’s ready on the trigger.

“No no, Missus Pollard, it’s what I can do for you. Your man Ethan, well I passed him on the road this mornin. I asked after you and the wee boy. He allowed as how he was on his way to town for some business. So I said, I said to him, I’d be happy to have a look in on your fine lady for you. So here we are.” His mouth smiles, but his eyes are uneasy on the rifle.

Just beyond the wagon, Tia Rosa leans against the fence, arms folded, scowling. Lily makes herself smile back at the Reverend.

“I thank you, Reverend Shawn,” she says. “But we’re all right.”

“Glad to hear it, glad to hear it,” Shawn forces a laugh. “But I’d be pleased – no, delighted – to stay awhile. I’m sure you could use some company.”

Lily’s fingers are slick on the rifle. “I don’t need company, Reverend.” In the palo verde tree by the porch, a cicada begins its bone-jarring song. “I have some company already. We were just fixing to have lunch.”

The Reverend’s face tightens. “Lunch, now that’s a fine thought. And prayers. This place could use a prayer or two, I’m thinking.” Sweat tracks from his temples, vanishing into the muttonchop whiskers. Huge dark patches are appearing in the armpits of that black Sunday coat. Hat in hand, he scans the yard.

“Is your, ahem, company inside then? I’ve seen no horse or rider –“

“Nasty old thing,” Tia Rosa’s voice is hard. “Got no business pryin up here. Got dirty old thoughts in his head too. Get him gone.”

Lily glances at Tia Rosa, standing not a yard from the jittery little man. How rude is that, to look straight at her and pretend she isn’t even there?

“This is Tia Rosa, from up in the hills. We’re busy, thank you. I don’t want to keep you from your day.”

The Reverend’s pale eyes flicker toward the fence and back to Lily. “I, ah, I see, Missus Pollard. Perhaps so. But for you and the little one – I really think I ought to stay. Just until Mister Pollard returns. It’s my duty to a member of my flock.’

Tia Rosa’s mouth twists with rage. “Get him gone, I tell you. He ain’t no friend. Goin to tell your man you is a crazy woman. Goin to take you from us.”

Lily’s head feels empty, floating, from the heat and the anger surging up from somewhere she’d never known before. Their voices, by turns fretful and furious, scrape along her nerves like the cicada’s rasping song. Breaking her beautiful, roaring silence.

So she pulls the rifle up again and levels it at the Reverend’s broad belly. “I’m not in your flock. Go along, Reverend. We’re fine. We don’t need you here.”

The Reverend raises his hands soothingly. “Nothing to fear, Missus, nothing at all. I’d be pleased, though, to say a prayer before I go, to bless this place. It feels evil. That’s all, just a prayer.”

“We don’t want none of them prayers!” hisses Tia Rosa. “He’s goin to ruin it all. You say you can use that rifle, Lily girl. If you love us, use it now!”

Lily takes a breath. The rifle is a comforting weight in her hands. Her finger is firm on the trigger, the way Ethan taught her.

“Get on out of here, Reverend,” she shouts, surprising herself. “Go on, I’m telling you!”

The shot rips the silence, the bullet zinging harmlessly past the fat little man into the rocks. The Reverend Shawn blanches. Slapping his hat back on, he flings himself into the trap, gathering the reins of the desperately shying mule.

“I’ll pray for you, Missus!” he cries, whipping the mule to a gallop toward the road.

Under the ringing in her ears, Lily catches new sounds: Tia Rosa’s hard, wheezing laughter and the wild shrieking of the baby, shocked from sleep by the gunshot.

“Oh Dios mio, the look on that man’s face!” gasps Tia Rosa.“You did good, girlie. Scout’s goin to be so proud. Go on, see about the nino. I’ll be back around this evening.”

Lily sets the gun down carefully and turns toward the house. Tia Rosa fades into the trees as she always does, without another word. The baby’s cries shear through the stillness like an entire army of cicadas. She gathers him into her arms, presses him to her breast.

Stop oh stop, give me my quiet back again.

The sky is a never-ending vault of lavender and violet, and the moon, just coming on to full, is rising like a vast golden coin over the mountains. Lily sits on the porch, watching the road for Ethan, longing for the sight of his broad brown hat. The baby sleeps in her arms, full and warm and finally quiet.

“How are we this evenin, Missus Pollard? Little one doin all right?”

Smells of old sweat and dirty leather; scuff of boots and the jingle of many jackdaw bits of jewelry. It’s Scout, and Lily’s heart jumps up in a way she doesn’t like to think of. She smiles. How does he come up behind her unnoticed like that?

Scout cradles the baby’s bare head gently in his big hard hand. His hair is long and graying brown, and he has an eagle feather tied to a red thread at his temple. White man turned brown by this never-ending sun: Scout wears fringed leather and cavalry issue pants; rings gleam on his fingers and in his ears. He’s been stopping through more and more these last days, with Ethan away so much. He makes her laugh and tells her stories, and sometimes, she knows, he walks the yard while she sleeps.

“He cries a lot,” Lily says. “I think he’s missin his papa.”

Scout eyes a bat, flittering like a scrap of burned paper above the trees. “And what about you? You missin his papa too?”

Lily shifts the baby in her lap. “I do, Scout. But he’s just doin what he has to do, if we’re to make it.”

“You know, Missus Pollard, Lily,” Scout’s voice is soft, just a murmur in the twilight. “I’d make sure you was all right, make sure you was never alone like this.”

“I know that, Scout.” Lily says. Why does her heart start fluttering when he speaks so gently? “I’m grateful you come around. I know you got a long way to go home.”

Scout laughs, a dry, bitter laugh that makes Lily jerk around to stare at him. “You might could say that. But I’m always here if you need me. You just remember that, when old Ethan’s pourin out the last of his pesos on the table and he’s forgot all about you.”

The breeze tickles Lily’s sweaty hair, turning her briefly cold. She shivers, and the baby, roused by the movement, wakes and begins to whimper. The whimper turns into a full-bore screech that rips into Lily’s tired brain.

“Be quiet!” she whispers. “Oh, please be quiet!” She rocks him harder and harder, the screams ricocheting around the clearing. Lily fumbles for the buttons of her dress, pops a breast into his mouth. Diverted, the baby settles down to nurse.

In the echoing silence, Scout exhales hard and slowly straightens his legs, crossing the ankles. His eyes slide past the pale curve of her flesh. “Well. That’s a good lad. I’d be proud to have him. Proud to have you too.”

Lily smiles gratefully. What a blessing her friends have been. Scout’s a good man. Ethan would like him. When Ethan gets home, she’ll introduce them.

The twilight has settled into deep blue shadows. Lily’s combed her hair and smoothed her dress, waiting in the gathering dark for the sound of Ethan’s horse on the road. It’s finally quiet again, so quiet . . .

The sky is vast and filling up with stars. Behind her, Scout leans against the wall. The baby lies calm in his arms, playing with the eagle feather in his hair. Tia Rosa sits on the edge of the porch, rocking and smoking.

Hoofbeats thud on the road beyond the palo verde trees. A minute later Ethan rounds the curve by the gate. Lily springs up.

“Don’t worry, mija,” says Tia Rosa. “We is with you.”

Lily walks out to meet her husband. He swings down from the horse, panting, dusty, sweat-stained and wearing a wild grin.

“Lily! Lily, you’ll never believe it! Such luck –“

“I don’t see any bull, Ethan,” says Lily calmly. “Let me smell you. Do you smell like the saloon? Or the cathouse?”

The smile drops from Ethan’s face. “What? No, listen to me, I met this man, he had a good animal up for sale. Took more money than I thought, but if it gets us goin – look! Look what I got for you.” He rummages in the saddlebag.

Tia Rosa leans in to Lily’s ear. “Ask him where that bull got to then.”

“If you bought a bull, “ Lily repeats dutifully, “ where is it?”

“Hastings’ll be bringing him up in the morning. Going to run a herd on up north, right by here. It’s all right, Lily – see? Look what I got you. Pink ribbons.” Ethan opens his hand. Satin gleams in the moonlight.

“Ribbons is goin to make up for it all?” Tia Rosa sneers. “Get him gone too. You don’t need him. You got us now.”

“I’d take care of you, Lily,” puts in Scout. ‘And the boy, like my own.”

“I know you would,” says Lily. “You’ve been so good to me.”

Ethan reaches for Lily’s arm. “Who are you talking to? Where’s my boy?”

Lily waves a hand toward the porch. “Right there. See? He’s so happy. That’s my friend Scout takin care of him. Come see. You’ll like him.”

The baby gurgles, pulling at Scout’s hair. His blanket lies in a heap at the tall man’s feet. Tia Rosa smiles at them both.

“Scout’s goin to help us, “ Lily tells Ethan. “ And Tia Rosa too.”

Ethan’s face stills. He starts toward her, eyes on the blanket, on that motionless little lump beneath it. “Oh my Lord, Lily, what’s wrong with you, what’s happened here –“

“He is goin to interfere, Lily.” Tia Rosa’s voice is harsh. “He don’t want you to be happy. You belong to us, not him. See? He hates Scout holdin that baby. Do you know what you need to do?”

Lily glances back at Scout, who nods fiercely. “He don’t love you, darlin. Not like I do. I’ve loved you since you come here. He ain’t goin to stand in our way. You won’t let him.”

Ethan lurches toward the porch, still staring at the blanket. Lily reaches for the rifle at Tia Rosa’s feet and levels it at Ethan’s chest. He freezes.

“Lily, listen, it’s all right. Just put that gun down. Let me go see to him. We can sort it out together.”

“You showed that preacher man what you could do,” Scout says, jiggling the baby to make him laugh. “Only this time –“ and his voice is hard as the silver stones that flash the sunlight into Lily’s eyes -- “you better not miss. Take care of that vermin before he takes care of you. Make me proud, Lily!”

Lily glances at him, at Tia Rosa, smiling nastily at the corner of the porch. Stillness howls in her head. The vast open sky, speckled with its first stars, is waiting for her.

Ethan walks slowly toward her, hand outstretched, murmuring her name over and over. “Give me the gun, Lily. I won’t hurt you. Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” says Lily to no one in particular. Tia Rosa and Scout are laughing, and the baby’s laughing too. So good for him to be happy, and not crying all the time.

She squeezes the trigger.

The shot takes Ethan square in the chest, slamming him backward. He sprawls among the sparkling rocks by the porch, blood pooling in the sand. Cradling the rifle, Lily glances back at Tia Rosa and Scout. They’ll be so glad it’s all done now. Tia Rosa will help with the baby. And Scout, oh Scout will love her so.

Their laughter fades into the night. Lily tiptoes up the steps to the empty porch, cautiously so as not to disturb the silence roaring inside her: that blessed, terrifying silence that swallows all the voices that echo in her bones.