Blood, Dreams, and Olive Drab (Pride & Promise) Read online

  "You’re a good helper," Sarah said to Bernice. They walked off the porch and started down the dusty tan carpet that was the dirt road.

  "Let’s go! Let’s go!" Clarene barked. She ran ahead and looked back with a fevered excitement in her body, swinging her arms as she walked. She found a rusty tin can on the side of the road and started kicking it ahead. It rattled and flopped down the path as a few rocks clanked around inside it.

  They could hear the shook-shook-shook of the saw cutting methodically through the log as they walked away from the woods. With each step they took, the sound grew fainter but still lingered in their ears. Each of their tired forlorn minds created a different image of their father’s mad, almost ghoulish face contorting as he cut vilely into the log. The farther they walked, the staler the air became and the more grotesquely their imaginations churned.

  "Need a ride?" a loud friendly voice sounded from behind them. The girls and Angela turned to see a rickety wagon rolling up behind them, each wheel humping noisily over the rocks of the weathered trail.

  "Mr. Cartwright," Angela blushed. She raised her hand over her face to block the bright sunlight as she looked up at him.

  "I saw you walking. I figured I’d ask if you need a ride. Are you going into town, or just for a walk?" he asked kindly. His face was slender and his cheeks were sunken. His bluetick coonhound was standing up in the back of the wagon. His thin tail was wagging furiously as he panted in the heat.

  "We are going to town," Angela answered awkwardly, "but we can’t accept a ride." Her thoughts turned to Paul and his jealous ways.

  "All right then," Mr. Cartwright nodded.

  "Mama," Bernice spoke-up "come on. It’s a long walk."

  "Yeah," Clarene said. She had already climbed into the back of the wagon and was smiling gloriously as she patted the hound.

  "Well," Angela said with a coy worried look upon her face, "I guess we can accept."

  "On one condition," Mr. Cartwright said. A goofy smile came over his face and his lonely deep blue eyes lightened, "You must call me Samuel."

  "Samuel. I guess we can do that," Angela agreed with a grin.

  Clarene and Sarah shimmied into the back of the wagon, allowing their feet to hang over the back edge, swaying as the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves started over the smooth terrain. Angela sat nervously beside Samuel in the front of the wagon. Bernice snuggled tightly between them. The bluetick’s tail was whapping against the side of the wagon as Clarene scratched his belly.

  "Where is Mr. O’Grady today?" Samuel asked plainly.

  "He . . . he is sawing some logs," Angela blushed. She knew that everyone in the county had heard him shouting at the moon on most nights. She often thought she heard people whispering about her in the local store.

  "Pretty good storm we had the other night," Samuel observed, trying his best to break the tension. He could feel the rigidness in the way Angela was sitting. Her hands were crossed over her lap like a good little schoolgirl and her back was straighter than the floorboards of the cart.

  "Yes. Yes, it was, Paul—er, I mean, Mr. Cartwright," Angela corrected herself. There was a difference between being neighborly and being friendly, and her husband didn’t allow her to be friendly with other men."

  "Pretty nasty cut you got there," Samuel pondered. He glanced at the gash in her leg. The blood had clotted and now you could see the length of the cut.

  "I scraped it on a fence post," Angela muttered. She pulled the length of her torn dress over her calf and tucked it under herself. Sarah turned around slightly and looked at her mother with empathy. Angela tried to look off to the side and act interested in the flowing sky and drifting trees. Mr. Cartwright took the hint. The wagon became silent. The only sounds were the snorts and whinnying of the horses and the simple jostling of the harnesses. A few minutes passed and Bernice’s body was full of energy. She was fidgeting and squirming like a worm.

  "Can I drive? Can I drive?" she asked, tugging on Mr. Cartwright’s sleeve.

  "Bernice O’Grady," Angela scolded. "You know better than to ask a question like that." Angela’s face was stern but red with embarrassment.

  "You want to drive, do ya?" Samuel clucked. He looked down into Bernice’s large round eyes which were filled with anticipation.

  "Yes, sir," she yapped.

  "Bernice, please," Angela sighed. Her face was tense. She felt the strain of an awkward moment but Bernice insisted, as usual.

  "We’re just goin’ straight, Ma," Bernice pleaded. She pointed ahead. The row of trees on both sides of the humble path stretched long and straight until they disappeared into a single point over the far horizon.

  "Seems like she’s persistent, this one," Samuel chuckled. His sad eyes had a bit of sparkle to them as he watched the little girl bounce in her seat. Sarah and Clarene had moved to the front of the cart and were on their knees looking over Bernice’s shoulder. The hound was curled around itself, sunning in the middle of the cart.

  "Oh, okay," Angela crumbled to Bernice’s big wounded eyes. As the word left her mouth, she saw a light burst in Bernice’s broken face. Suddenly her lower lip was not as heavy.

  "Here you go," Samuel said with a low gentle voice as he slowly handed her the reins. She took the smooth leather straps in her hand. "Now hold them nice and straight and don’t make any sudden moves, or jerks. Okay?"

  "Okay," Bernice bobbed her head. She was listening to him, but she didn’t hear a word. Her mind was fixed on the rumps of the horses as they lumbered along. Her tiny little fingers were sweating as she rubbed them over the leather reins. She looked quickly up at her mother with a giddy fire in her eyes. "Mama, I’m doing it!" she fired.

  "I know. I know you are. Just keep your eyes on the road," Angela twittered nervously. "You’re doing fine, just fine," she smiled with a worried but proud face.

  "Good job, Bernice! Hurray!!" her sisters sounded from the back of the cart. They clapped and patted her on the back. Bernice beamed. She raised her chin slightly and let the sunlight break across her neck. Even the bluetick got off his tail and perched himself on the sideboards to look curiously over everyone’s shoulders. With his wide tongue hanging from the sides of his pink gums, he almost smiled as they went.

  "Giddy-up," Bernice slightly snapped the reins, feeling the power go a bit to her head. With reproach, the old mares broke from their amble and started to stride a bit faster.

  "Okay," Samuel chuckled, "let’s not get fancy here. We’re not in a race." He reached around Bernice and tugged back on the reins. His arm touched Angela for a moment and she slid away with caution. The edge of his mouth curled into an awkward grin but he pulled his arms back into himself holding them against his rib cage.

  The dense row of trees was starting to grow spotty. Rooftops were coming into view over the hilltop. The wagon crested the slope and soon they could hear the clatter of the town. Samuel took over the reins and guided the wagon through the streets.

  The trolley cars rattled over the tracks as black plumes of smoke spit from their tailpipes, and the children ran and played about the streets, shouting and giggling. The sweltering heat shimmered off the brick streets. They watched the ladies strut down the street with large hats atop their heads and hands full of shopping bags. A few minutes later the cart came to a slow grinding stop as the horses groaned.

  "Thank you, Mr. Cartwright," Angela said rather curtly. She jumped down from the cart and reached back for Bernice. Bernice jumped down reluctantly from the lofty height.

  "I’m going to pick up some things at the store. If you need a ride back, I’ll be around," Mr. Cartwright offered unassumingly.

  "No," Angela said abruptly, then realized the tone she had taken. "I mean . . . we’ll be fine. Thank you." She turned her face away decisively. She corralled her children and pulled them close to her as they walked away from the cart. Mr. Cartwright clucked to the horses and marched off down the bustling street.

  Sarah stood at the end of the sidewalks and could a
lmost see the world growing towards their plain little burg. There was a time when they were on the outskirts of the known world. Now this little town was quickly being citified and true countryside was disappearing. The trees were becoming fewer as farmers, businesses, and the ever-expanding government marshaled the land.

  She looked down the townie row and closed her eyes. As simple country folk, they were pretty much removed from the bustle of this little town, let alone the steel and concrete fortresses of the great cities hundreds of miles away. She might as well be living on the moon. The world was evolving whether they or their sleepy little municipality was ready for it or not.

  "Sarah," Angela beckoned, "come on, now." Sarah opened her eyes and her vision was suddenly shattered by the reality of her youthful life. She knew there was more to life than this tired dusty town. As she looked down the street, she knew she had to escape. She felt restlessness in her arms until she began shaking and tightness gripped her heart. When she heard a melody floating from the doors of the saloon, she started twirling, closing her eyes, and looking to the sun. A bright yellow stream covered her eyes and she felt the happiness of her future. She knew there would be a time when she would sing and dance for the world. She felt wonderful! She tucked down her head and tromped down the street, trying to catch her mother and sisters.

  The little girls plastered their faces to the cool glass of the butcher shop. A white ghostly vapor spread across the glass as they breathed heavily against the pane. Half the shop was covered with crimson stains of blood. The other was as clean and crisp as a swan. The stainless steel counter shined brightly as the sunlight shot down against it and wiggled like a silver snake down the length of the counter. Ropes of hot dogs, logs of bologna, and tubes of capicola hung in the front window, dangling like Christmas bulbs in the darting beams of the sun.

  Cling, cling, cling. The small brass bell of the doorway marked everyone’s entrance. Groaning like an old woman getting into bed, the glossy wood floors moaned as customers walked in.

  "Can I help you?" a grumbling voice bellowed from hulking hunched shoulders under a heavy white jacket.

  "Maybe!" Angela said snappishly.

  "I know that voice!" His tone suddenly turned light and friendly. "Hey, little sis." With his legs rubbing together making a swishing sound as he walked, the thick man shifted around the counter.

  "Uncle Johnny!" Bernice cried out. She tried to peek her head just above the edge of the white marble counter. Her cute little face beamed with a kitten’s curious eyes.

  "Hi, little one," Johnny said. He walked around the side of the counter. Bernice ran to him and jumped into his round arms. He pulled her close to him and she looked into his eyes.

  She held her face near to his, clutching his chubby cheeks with her impish hands. She felt the bristles of his beard brushing her palms as she placed her cheek against his beard and rubbed jovially against his face. "Hee-hee-hee," she laughed as the grit of his beard tickled her.

  "Hello, girls," Johnny said with a booming voice.

  "Hello, Uncle Johnny," Sarah said. As she strolled back and forth, her shabby patent shoes squeaked on the tile floor.

  "What, no hello from you?" Johnny said with a pouted face. He put Bernice down on the floor and walked over to Clarene. She was shy and aloof, turning away and gazing at the wall. Her tiny face was turning a few shades of red.

  "Hi," Clarene peeped with a small voice.

  "Okay," Johnny said acceptingly. He ran his hand over her hair and grinned. He turned to walk away and Clarene smacked him glibly on the behind. "Hey!" he shouted. He turned around and puffed out his barrel chest and raised his arms into the air like a bear. "Rrarrr!" he roared. Clarene giggled and ran out from under his arms as he swooped down and mockingly tried to grab her. He chased her around the room. She darted to her mother’s side and clung to her dress, but her eyes were sparkling with delight and she was smiling.

  "I’ll get you one of these days," Johnny said with a rambunctious glint in his eyes, "and when I do," he bent down and ran his fingers over Clarene’s side, ". . . I’ll tickle you!" The child burst out in laughter, throwing her head back and laughing uncontrollably.

  "Johnny, you spoil these kids," Angela said. Her face had peeled back the somberness of the morning and was clear and vibrant.

  "No!" Johnny stood tall and stared down at the three sets of little eyes that looked up at him as if he was a mountain. "This is spoiling!" He dug into the pocket of his long white coat and pulled out a handful of lollipops. He fanned them out as if they were dollar bills. The girls’ eyes lit up like fireflies.

  "Johnny," Angela sighed. She laid her hand on Johnny’s shoulder and her eyes crumbled with thanks.

  The girls snagged the lollipops and hurriedly pulled the wrappers off. Their little hands worked like squirrels’ paws with nuts. They slammed them into their mouths. Their tongues were lapping as fast as they could, smacking against the sides of their mouths.

  "Now, girls, what do you say?" Angela spoke up.

  "Thank you, Uncle Johnny," came a round of muffled voices. Their mouths were crammed with lollipops.

  "Now, don’t eat them, Bernice. Lick them!" Angela raised her voice as a loud crunching noise came from Bernice’s little face. Bernice worked her jaw like a cow chewing her cud. "Bernice," Angela moaned, "slow down or you’re going to get a tummy ache." Bernice shrugged her shoulder with her typical candor. The glee slid from Johnny’s face but remained in his eyes as he watched them

  "Paul’s working. Sawing up a log that fell in the storm the other night," Angela remarked. She glanced down at the floor like a child in trouble.

  "Yeah?" Johnny questioned. He put his hands on his wide hips and frowned. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at his baby sister.

  "No, he’s working. Isn’t Pa working, girls?" Angela said with a nudging tone.

  The girls all shook their heads as they licked their treats, not daring to look at Uncle Johnny.

  "I hope so," Johnny said. His eyes were thoughtful and deep.

  "We better go and let you get back to work," Angela said. She started to round up her youngins and walk to the door.

  "Wait, wait one minute, Angela," Johnny gushed. He rushed, disappearing around the corner of the counter. Then he ran right back with a white package in his hand. "Here." He shoved the package into her hand.

  "Johnny, I . . . we can’t take this." Angela’s eyes looked away.

  "Take it. I cut a couple extra pork chops. If you don’t take them, I’ll just throw them away," he said. He pushed them further into her hand and felt her fist loosen. Finally, she took the package.

  "Well," Angela said with embarrassment, "we don’t want you to throw them away." He had said this before.

  "Bye, girls," Johnny said. His round cheery face always made their hearts feel a tad lighter and the days not as hot or long.

  The bell tinkled again as they opened the door. A rush of hot air blew into the shop. Angela walked out first. Sarah and Clarene were right behind her.

  "Bernice," Johnny whispered. Bernice held the door open with her backside and grinned at Johnny. "Come here," he waved her over with his stubby fingers.

  "Yes?" she smiled, knowing full well what he was doing.

  "Here," Johnny said, reaching into his pocket, "try not to eat this one so fast." Johnny produced another lollipop from his seemingly bottomless pocket. He patted her on the back as she romped out the door. It swung shut and he watched them cross the barren street.

  The family stood moments later under the shadow of the Five and Dime Store awning. The sun was quickly falling from its perch in the corner of the western sky. Angela knew it was a long walk back home and she didn’t want to walk with the children after dark.

  "Mama," Bernice said, "is that the boy who got hurt by the tractor?" She pointed at a young man walking across the street.

  His smooth face was covered slightly by a shadow created from the rim of his brown army hat. His square broad shoulders were t
ucked neatly into his dress jacket. A few bright ribbons hung with nobility from the left breast. He was hobbling as he leaned on a crutch. His tall lanky frame fit his natural raw innocence, except his left pant leg was tied and doubled under. He was missing his leg from the knee down.

  "No, no, Bernice, that young man who was hurt in a farming accident went off to live with God." Angela fumbled with words that Bernice could comprehend and not be frightened.

  "Then what happened to him, Mama?" Clarene chimed in, pointing in the general direction of the hobbling soldier. A coating of glossy sugar was around the edges of her mouth.

  "That young man was in the war," Angela explained. The young man was closer now and heard her voice. He looked up and smiled and nodded modestly.

  "He must be brave," Bernice said. The young man heard this, too, and straightened out his back and walked a little taller. His eyes were proud and grave. With each stab of the crutch into the ground, his shoulders seemed to go farther back and his chest popped out more. He strode down the street. People stepped to the side and let him pass, patting him on the back and almost rushing to try and shake his hand. He grinned boldly. His style exuded a sense of strength and bravado.

  "He’s handsome," Sarah swooned. Angela glanced over at her oldest daughter and saw her changing in front of her eyes. Sarah’s face was sculpted and her figure was voluptuous. Her thin neck flowed into her pert full breasts and her hips were beginning to naturally sway as she walked like a flag in the wind. Men tried to sneak a peek at her as they walked by, but with her girlish charms and immature mind, Sarah didn’t even notice. She was stunningly beautiful. She was closer to womanhood than her mother had noticed. Angela was too caught up in her own problems and life to realize that her oldest baby was no longer a child, but a full-fledged woman.

  "Mrs. O’Grady," a voice snapped her from her thoughts. She jumped slightly and laid her hand across her chest. "Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you," Samuel Cartwright said sincerely.

  "Oh, Samuel, . . . Mr. Cartwright," she said and quickly bowed her head. "I didn’t hear you pull up." She feigned a troubled smile.