Nevada Barr - Bittersweet

“Karl’s out hunting. If he’s lucky, we’ll have fresh venison for supper. If not, it’s rabbit stew. Mac?” She held out coffee for the old man. McMurphy was more wizened than ever, scarcely taller than Sarah. Alcohol had reddened his nose and scratched a crosshatching of broken veins on his cheeks. White stubble bristled along his jaws. When he reached for the coffee, he was slightly to the left. Sarah guided the cup into his hands. He cradled it in his palm, the stumps of his fingers curled around, steadying it with his other hand.

“Thanky, Sarah. I don’t see like I used to. Catracks, the doc said. Hell, Uncle Suley had the same thing and the doc said it was stone-eye.” Mac slurped his coffee noisily.

“It’s hot,” Sarah warned.

“Mac’ll snap at anything that doesn’t snap back,” David said.

Sarah smiled at the old man, laying a hand on his shoulder. “It’s good to look at you, Mac, it’s been a long time. You too, David, much too long.” There was a scuffling of boots outside and Sarah fell suddenly silent, her hand at her throat. The front door opened and, with a last stomp to clear the mud from his boots, Coby came in.

“Karl’s coming,” he said. “Saw him riding up the west road. Looks like we’ll be having spuds for supper tonight, unless he’s got something hid in his bag. Maybe I’ll go out and try my luck before dark.”

“I forgot the calico flag!” Sarah whispered. She ran to Matthew. He was curled down by the kindling box, listening to every word, his eyes full of his Uncle David’s dog-half-asleep under Mac’s chair-and the old man’s mangled hand. “Honey,” she said as she knelt beside him, “get your coat on and run and tell Karl who’s here. Tell him your Uncle David and Mac are here. Don’t forget-Uncle David and Mac. Scoot now.” She spanked him lightly on the bottom.

“Maybe he’s seen Moss Face,” Matthew suggested as she helped him on with his coat.

Sarah stopped him long enough to kiss him. “Maybe.”

“Tell him the drinks are on his brother-in-law,” David called as the door closed behind the boy.

Sarah watched out the window after him, her face drawn around the mouth. The sky was a sullen gray and, as it neared four o’clock, the light was leaving the desert to an early winter dusk. It was the time of day when there are no shadows and the sky seems close to the earth. Sarah cupped her hands to the glass. Matthew, square in his heavy coat, ran across the yard. His mittens were tethered by a string behind his neck and flopped out of his sleeves like a second pair of hands. Just beyond the stable, Sarah could see Karl; he rode slumped in the saddle, the reins looped over the saddlehorn, his hands tucked in his armpits. In a minute he would ride out of sight behind the shed.

Suddenly he jerked his head up like a man awakened. Matthew ran behind the buildings and reappeared a moment later. Karl had seen him. He levered himself out of the saddle and dismounted to walk with the boy. They stopped, Matthew hopping from foot to foot and waving his arms, and Karl, hands on knees, nodding. Sarah smiled when Matthew put both wrists to his chin and waved his fingers in pantomime of David’s beard. Karl pulled the game bag from behind the saddle and handed it to the child. They talked a bit longer, then Matthew ran back toward the house. Karl swung into the saddle and turned the horse back the way it had come. Sarah expelled the breath she had been holding during the little scene, and turned from the window, smiling.

A few minutes later, Matthew clattered through the front door, the game bag flapping over his shoulder. “Karl got two ducks, Momma. He’s been to the lake and back.”

“He’ll be all in,” Mac commented.

“Momma, he said to tell you-”

“Come on, honey,” Sarah interrupted, “tell me in the kitchen. I must get the coffee.”

“All he said to tell you was-”

“Come on now.” She hurried him out of the room. In the hall, she helped him out of his coat and hung it on a handy peg. “What did Karl say to tell Momma?”

“We’re not in the kitchen,” Matthew said mischievously, and Sarah laughed.

“That’s right.”

While she poured the coffee, Matthew took two female mallards from the bag and laid them on the chopping block. “Karl said he was riding back out. He said, ‘Tell your mother I may be gone all night, I’ll be where I always am…and not to worry.’ Where’d he go, Momma? It’s almost nighttime.”

“Maybe he went to hunt some more. I expect that’s what he did. Maybe he saw a big old buck and didn’t want to lose its trail.”

“He hadn’t see Moss Face.”

Sarah set the coffee down on the table. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”

“I looked everywhere for him.”

Sarah brushed the dark hair from his face. “Come on, you can help me carry the coffee. Careful not to spill, it’s hot.” Beaner and Liam had come in from the stable and were warming themselves before the fire. David and Mac sat with their feet stretched to the blaze, David chatting amiably with the driver and the swamper, and Mac, a dreamy look in his dim eyes, a smile on his lips, looking every inch at home. Occasionally the old man dropped his arm down to rub Manny’s ears with his finger stubs, and the dog thumped his tail against the floorboards.

“David, Mac, there’s a cup left,” Sarah said. “Can I heat either of you up?”

“No thanky, Sarah,” Mac replied. “I’m still nursing this one.”

“Better save it for your husband,” David added. “It’s colder than a witch’s…” Liam laughed and David winked at him. “…toe out there,” he finished.

“Karl’s gone out hunting a big buck,” Matthew volunteered.

“He has, has he?” David ruffled his nephew’s hair. “Don’t you think maybe it’s a little late for tracking? Be dark in less than an hour.”

“It’s true. Ask Momma.”

“Hush, honey,” Sarah said. “Why don’t you go see if Coby’s ready for supper?”

“Supper won’t be done for hours,” Matthew complained.

“Go on now, your coat’s in the hall.”

Reluctantly, Matthew left the fire and the dog and the strange old man and his new uncle.

David unfolded from his chair as the boy let himself out the front door. “I’ve been sitting for two days, one way and another. Guess I’ll stretch my legs while it’s still light out. Give your husband a hand with his horse. I haven’t seen Karl since that tinhorn shot his coyote dog.”

“David, Karl has gone out again. I don’t expect he’ll be back until late.” Sarah busied herself collecting the empty cups.

“That’s a hell of a note. A man’s got to take a day off once in a while. We aren’t going to starve.” David shrugged into a heavy leather coat lined with creamy fleece.

Sarah set the cups on a table. She put them down too hard, and a chip flew from the bottom of one. Her face was tight. “David, where are you going?”

“Going to fetch him home. Can’t have the wedding party without the groom.”

“He’s already gone. Long gone. I don’t know which way he went.”

“I’ll ask Coby. He was out messing around, he might’ve noticed. Coby, that’s his name, right? The blond kid?”

“Yes. Coby. Please don’t go, David. It’s so cold…”

He laughed. “You’re as bad as Mam ever was. You’re hanging on to a thirty-dollar coat. It kept some sheep warm over a west Texas winter, it’ll do me. Let me go, woman, or I’ll never catch him on foot.” His feigned roughness failed to bring a smile. “I’ll be back in half an hour, Sare, even if I don’t catch up with him,” he said more gently, and before she could say another word, he was out the door.

She ran and jerked it open. “David!” He turned and waved as he loped across the yard, his dog at his heels, toward the pump where Coby was finishing washing up. Slowly, Sarah closed the door and leaned her forehead against the frame.