Sarah's Quilt Page 12

  I leaned forward in my chair and rubbed my head. I said, “I just came here first to visit. Remember?”

  “Well, my quilt top’s near finished,” she said real soft. She ate the last of her biscuit and syrup. Staring out the window, she said, “Albert’s girl Mary Pearl is fixing to buck loose.”

  “She’s that age. Mama? Why don’t you think about moving in with me?”

  “You ever taste cauliflower? We used to have that in soup. Grandmama would take it right from the garden and break it up in little bits, and put butter in the soup, too. And top milk. Nothing like cauliflower soup with top milk. I wonder if it could grow here. We’ll know once you get that water in.”

  Well, she wasn’t going to answer me, I could see. I used to think she was addled when she changed the subject; now I’m wondering if she’s just clever. Land sakes alive, I’m going to lose my mind trying to keep up with her. I took myself to Savannah’s kitchen soon as I left. The afternoon sun was low and the smells of supper came from the door. “Savannah,” I called from the yard. “Your coffee on yet?”

  “What’s wrong, honey?” she asked.

  We talked about the railroad and what Granny had gone and done. No one felt right about it, but it was done now. I couldn’t let it rest, and finally Savannah said, “Sarah, what ails you? Is there something more?”

  I hadn’t meant to tell her. I didn’t want her to worry. It just came out before I could stop, and I said, “It feels like some kind of evil sign. I had dreams last night of going out to gather in the herd and finding nothing but a field of dried cattle bones.”

  Savannah stirred a pan with a long wooden spoon. “That sounds like a vision.”

  Albert just laughed and said, “Well, Sarah, I do believe I’ve read a story like that before. Like as not, you better hire the first man comes along named Ezekiel.”

  Savannah smiled and pointed at him with the wooden spoon, saying, “Now, Albert, don’t be taking the Scriptures lightly,” but I knew she wasn’t really fussing at him. Truth be told, having a little joke about the drought didn’t make me feel better, even though I smiled at the time.

  June 11, 1906

  The water witch came midmorning, on a mule, with a narrow bedroll and a forked twig tied to his back with a piece of hemp string. I don’t know if I’d ever seen a man so dirty and ragged. Looked like he’d been living in the desert for years. Smelled a little like it, too. Of course, after all this time without water, none of the rest of us were wash day–sweet, either. We’d been bathing and washing in water from the mineral spring, and everyone smelled slightly sulfurous. The yard dogs circled him and his mule, low noises coming from their throats, the hair on a ridge down both their backs standing straight up.

  “You’d be Mrs. Elliot?” he said from the back of his jenny. He rode without a saddle, sitting on an animal skin tied to the back of the mule with a braided yellow rope. He wore moccasins that still had the hair on them, wrapped over with strips of blue cloth tied right up on his pant legs.

  “Yes, I would,” I said. “Get down, dogs,” I called. Nip and Shiner left off growling at the man and went and sat under the porch in the shade. “And if you’re the water finder, I’d also be more’n a bit skeptical. I don’t believe in this kind of thing. If I was paying you, I’d turn you around right now and have done with it. Science. Geology. That’s how to find water, in my book.”

  He dismounted. “I’ll maybe want to see that book. Rewrite it. Where will I find the courteous and generous Mrs. Prine, the lady who sent ten dollars cash to ride all this way?”

  “She’ll be along.”

  “I suppose you haven’t even got a drink for a tired man? A little water, a little food. Last I heard, that was polite custom even among Anglos.”

  Felt like my feet took roots. I could barely see his eyes, hidden under a mat of hair and a huge flopping hat, but they pierced their woolly hiding place—the eyes of a badger. Sometimes Chess saw everything that went on here; sometimes he got lost in his leatherwork. Right then, I’d have give anything for him to come from the barn and turn this fellow away. I got rared up to do it myself; then I saw Nip and Shiner from the corner of my eye. They panted hard, but no saliva dripped from their tongues. We needed water. Maybe, something was telling me, we needed this water man.

  The man stood there with the reins in his hands, like he’d turned to stone on the spot, too. After a couple of minutes listening to myself breathe, I said, “I’ll fetch you a cup. What’s your name, sir?”

  “Oh, not ‘sir,’ Mrs. Elliot. Just Lazrus. Folks call me Lazrus.” He smiled, or did something that made his great furry beard move up on the sides of his head.

  I leaned my head back a little and studied him, then nodded slowly. “Mr. Lazrus, set yourself on the porch here, and I’ll bring you a cup.”

  “Don’t you have a pump inside?”

  “Gone dry. Water’s in the olla, that water jug hanging in the shade. It’s been strained and boiled. Rest is mud.”

  He showed no surprise, just sat—not on one of the chairs, but right down on the porch floor. Folding his hands across one of his knees, which he’d pulled up, he stared off to the side of the house. I went in and came back quick as I could with a tin cup. I filled it myself with the dipper, not because I was used to taking on for folks, but because I didn’t want his hands near the precious little water I’d spent so long making clean. He took the cup. It made me feel nasty when his fingers touched mine.

  He pulled off his hat and laid it beside him on the floor, then leaned way back to finish off the water. I went back inside to fetch him some food. I tiptoed across the room and peered out the window; it seemed the fellow hadn’t stirred except to put his hat back on his head.

  My boys had not moved their things back into the house, since I came home without Harland. They both said they had a mind to once they got done with all their digging, but they have not had a moment to spare, what with hauling water. They spent their days working, and by the time the sun had gone down, they were sound asleep, too exhausted to think about a little thing like where they bunked. If only one of my kin would take a notion to come to the house right now, I’d feel a lot better.

  I cut three pieces of bread and covered them each with a big spoonful of apple butter; then I cut hard cheese and smoked ham and put those on the plate, too, along with a tin fork. I went to the pantry, then decided against opening any jars in this heat. I hadn’t even lit the stove this morning, and I wasn’t fixing to now, so there wouldn’t be any cooked eggs or vegetables. As I carried the plate toward the door, I spied my rifle in the corner, and I moved it right up against the doorjamb before I opened the door.

  I handed Mr. Lazrus the plate, and again he touched my hands with his. He ate with his fingers, not the fork, and then took another deep drink. He saw me watching him, and he said, “I helped myself to more water. Didn’t think you’d mind.” Then his eyes narrowed, got fiery and mad. “I didn’t touch anything. Your water isn’t defiled.”

  “I didn’t say—”

  “Yes, you did. I heard exactly what was going through your mind just then.”

  “Besides being filthy, you’re impertinent, Mr. Lazrus.”

  “Doesn’t matter, Mrs. Elliot.” He went back to eating. Stuffed half a piece of bread in his mouth, then licked his fingers twice, getting the apple butter that fell on them. They still looked dirty, but now they were shiny, too. “I’ve discovered a lot of things being dirty, that you don’t see, being clean. Anyhow, none of it will matter once you see that water coming up cool and blue. Other folks around got water?”

  “Yes. It’s only my well that’s dried up.”

  He nodded, chewing. “Just as I thought. Pocket water. Your well is sunk in pocket water, and the real underground pool is below it. Whoever dug it didn’t know what they were doing. Miracle it lasted you this long.”

  It was as if he knew how long we’d been using the well. I said, “We’ve dug it deeper. It’s down a hundred feet. The
re’s nothing but solid rock.”

  He swept the last crust of bread around the plate and held his mouth against the edge, pushing the crumbs and the bread in like I’d sweep dirt onto a tin plate to dump. He gulped the water, then put the cup on the plate and held them both toward me. I took them. Standing, he brushed himself down, as if he’d made that same gesture often. Dark streaks ran down the front of his clothes. “A hundred feet won’t get water in this area,” he said. “That was a delicious repast. You’re quite the cook.”

  “You don’t have to thank me for it, Mr. Lazrus.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t. You’re the one to be thanking me. In fact, most folks, if they want it bad enough, will pay just about anything for a well.” He stepped one foot closer.

  I dropped the dishes. The plate shattered and the cup rolled across the porch. I reached behind me and shoved the door open, taking up the rifle with my left hand. I had it pointed at him before he could blink. “Ride on out of here,” I said. “Mount up and go, or I swear you’ll be sorry you ever showed your face on this land.”

  He smiled again, lifted his hat. “No reason for that now, ma’am. I see that I’ve said the wrong thing. Misspoke myself there. A workman is worthy of his hire, is all.”

  “Well, so far all I’ve seen is eating, and that’s free. When I see a man working, I will pay him.”

  His beard rose at the edges again, and he made a strange noise that took me a minute to decide was a laughing sound. He said, “I’ll need to see the lay of your land. See if you’ve even got water on it. You have anyone who can show me around? Twelve days, I don’t find water, you owe me nothing. If I do, the fee is fifty dollars.”

  “Twelve days? Why’s it take so long? I reckoned you’d just do some kind of incantation and water would bubble up from the dry ground.”

  “Mrs. Elliot, you have no concept of my work. And I want to know this mysterious Mrs. Prine exists, and that she has forty more dollars, since it seems I’m doing the work for someone named Mrs. Elliot. In the meantime, you have to feed me. Breakfast and supper. I do not eat at noon. Clogs up the nervous system. That’s the bargain. Take it or leave it.”

  “Nervous system? Well, get to work. The boys will be in shortly, and they’ll take you around. Not many people can earn fifty dollars in twelve days, and I—”

  “It’s a deal, then. Send for the drilling rig tomorrow. Usually takes them more than a week to get it moved someplace. I can recommend two drillers if you don’t know one already, and don’t worry about my sleeping arrangements. I make do.”

  Well, I hadn’t given a speck of worry to his sleeping arrangements, because I hadn’t figured this would take a fortnight to do. I reckon Mama had no idea what she’d sent for when she wrote to this coot. He stepped off the porch and pulled the twig from his back. It wasn’t anything special, just a fork broken off a mesquite tree, something we’ve got growing like weeds. He held it in his hands, the middle of the fork pointing into the air, put it over his head, then turned in a circle. He eyed the sun, watching this way and that.

  I wondered if Savannah was right, if this was indeed some kind of sorcery. It gave me the pure shivers to watch him. He held the branch out in front of his chest and commenced walking around in circles, and the circles got bigger each time, until finally he went over to the well. He looked in it, shook his head, and moved on. I picked up the pieces of the broken plate and put them in the metal can where we burned trash. That was one way to save on wash water.

  I had no intention of paying a driller to come until I knew there’d be something for him to drill. I went and told Mama the man she sent for was here, and she was excited. She came over, but he was nowhere around, so she handed me a piece of paper with forty dollars folded inside it. “Mama,” I said, “I didn’t send all my money to Harland. I still have some in my till.” Still she said I wasn’t to be ornery about it but take the money as she meant to give it. I decided all I could do was to give it back to her some other time. I still mean to sell out half the stock, and that’ll be enough to last me a while until we can do otherwise.

  Well, for the next three days, that man hovered around the place, always with that piece of mesquite in his hands, over near the garden, up by the road, off where the rocks rose in the back, and even in the barn. Charlie and Gilbert went with him all over the land. I think they were glad to be done with digging, especially when there was nothing to show for their work but blistered hands and sore backs. Part of a year in school had softened up their skins, and every night I gave them each a bowl of carbolic acid and water to soak their hands in, so they didn’t turn septic from the blisters.

  Chapter Six

  June 13, 1906

  Albert had come over to my place to meet the water witch, along with his boys, Clover, Josh, Ezra, and Zack, but Mr. Lazrus had disappeared. So each day after that when I drove the flatbed to Albert’s to fill a barrel for my chickens and dogs, he would tease me that I’d imagined Mr. Lazrus up after dreaming about bleached animal bones. Savannah called me in, handed me a plate of food, and I sat with them at the noon table. While I was eating, Albert said, “I told you to name the fellow in the dream Ezekiel. He was the one called up the dry bones. You’ve got Lazarus in the wrong story.”

  I said, “I think he’s nothing but a lunatic.”

  “Oh, Albert,” Savannah said with a sigh. “We shouldn’t be meddling with witchcraft. You go over there, find him, and send him away. But be careful. Take the Bible with you, and find something shaped like a cross and hold it up toward him. If he’s really a witch, he’ll run from it.”

  “Well,” I told her, “it doesn’t seem like he’s doing anything besides getting the lay of the land. He didn’t say anything like incantations. And he says his name Lazrus, just two syllables. I don’t think he’s magic. He’s rude. He stinks. He eats with his fingers, and he rides a mule sitting on a puma skin. If there’s any witching being done, it doesn’t show.”

  “Still,” Savannah said, “you don’t know what he’s doing through the night. He could be up howling under the full moon.”

  “Mama!” all of Savannah’s children said at once. Even Albert said it. Albert gaped at her. He said, “Sweetheart, you’ve surprised us. Howling under the moon?”

  “Well, I’ve read about such things,” Savannah said. “He could be a wizard or sorcerer. Anyone who can get a mule to wear a catamount skin! We must stay watchful for Satan’s minions.”

  All their children glanced back and forth to each other, but they didn’t say a thing. No one I know would question Savannah’s Scripture reading. To think she’d read about sorcery amazed me as much as it did her family. She said, “Really, Sarah, I’d feel better if you came and slept here until he’s gone. Or just send him away. I wish Mother Prine hadn’t called on him. He’s so—”

  “Stinky?” Zack said.

  The children, grown and young, all clucked under their breaths, trying not to laugh aloud at the supper table, which was not allowed. I had to smile, too. I said, “Well, I am purely tired of my boys following him around over hill and yon. And he does disappear at nightfall, and there’s no sign of water, not a drop.”

  Savannah put her hands to her face. “Oh my soul, I can hardly sleep at night knowing he’s abroad on the land. At the very least,” she said, “he could be some sort of vagabond with intentions. We have girls here. Albert, won’t you send him on his way?”

  Seeing Savannah so concerned made me feel as if I had to defend the dirty old vagabond. I didn’t want her to be worried. Seems I’d have noticed if he’d had goat’s feet and a tail. She was truly frightened. I wanted her to know I’d be as careful as I could. I said, “Savannah, from now on, before I let him eat, I’m going to have Mason Sherrill bless the food and consecrate everything he touches. If there’s something wrong with Mr. Lazrus, he won’t stand for it, and will run off on his own. Don’t forget, honey, Mama says it’s not witchery. It’s just a talent, and even her grandmama had the gift. I’m sure it’ll be all
right, but we’ll do that, just in case.”

  “Everyone here will pray about it, too, morning and evening, as long as that man is about,” Savannah said. I saw her girls nod quickly, agreeing. Josh did, too. Clover didn’t move, but the little boys looked at each other like they’d been given second helpings of boiled turnips.

  I patted Savannah’s arm and said, “Let’s all pray for rain, too. Likely all I really need is a good rain to fill up the well, get it going again.”

  Then we talked about Granny selling off part of her land. Albert said he agreed with me it was a terrible thing to sell to the railroad, but he didn’t seem near as upset as I was. “Albert,” I said, “I just don’t want Granny to get cheated out of her land.”

  He said, “She really doesn’t use her quarter section of land except for the garden next to the house. The boys here do all the hoeing and weeding, and the girls plant it for her and gather. What we need to do is get Granny to live in with one of us.”

  “She won’t come easy,” I said. “Talking her into anything might be difficult. Unless, of course, you’re a man from the railroad. I have more empty space than you all. Gil and Charlie moved to the bunkhouse to make room for Harland and Melissa. Since they didn’t come, it’s just Chess and I.”

  Savannah said, “Rachel and Rebeccah will go to their teaching jobs this fall. Josh and Esther will be at school. It’ll be so quiet here, and we’ll have an extra room.”

  Even with half their children gone, Savannah and Albert will still have Clover, Ezra, Zachary, and Mary Pearl. I smiled at the little fellows and said, “You two better start making more ruckus. Your older sisters were so noisy that now they’re going away at teaching, your mama thinks the house is empty.” They chuckled. I said, “Well, I won’t argue that Granny’d be happy here. We can just let her know either place she chooses, she’s welcome.”