Black Wind Part 4
Madelaine awoke to the stinging odor of charred wood and the sound of desultory voices ascending from the yard to her open window. “What am I goin’ to do, Billy?”
“What you’ve always done, Mom. We’ll salvage what we can, then we’ll rebuild.”
“I’m gettin’ too old to keep rebuildin’. And what am I goin’ to tell Josie Tyler?”
“The truth.”
“We aren’t sure it was David who did this.” Madelaine could imagine how Mrs. Hanson’s arm would swing out to encompass the ruins of the barn.
“Then who, Mom?”
“Oh, Billy, I guess I just dread tellin’ Josie. She raised him, Billy, just like he’d been born to her. Raised him right along with her and Daniel’s son, Jack.”
Before Billy could answer his mother, the phone jangled. “Grandmother! It might be Grandmother.” Madelaine thought as she sprinted from the window, flew down the stairs and racing into the living room, snatched the phone on the third ring. “Hello?” she said breathlessly.
The deep, gravelly voice on the other end asked, “How did you and Mrs. Hanson,” he made the older woman’s name sound like a cuss word, “like roasted horses? Maybe the old bat’lll stay out of things that don’t concern her, now.”
“Uncle David?”
“Yeah, brat. I told you to stay outta my way.”
“Uncle David, how could you do that?”
“Strike a match and poof! Roasted horse.” A mean chuckle traveled across the phone line.
Spitting mad, Madelaine yelled, “Well it didn’t work! We got all of them out!”
“You couldn’t have.” She could feel his rising anger in his voice over the phone.
“We did. And the fire chief is going to find you and put you in jail.” Madelaine’s voice rose shrilly. Her heart beat so hard she could hear the blood pounding in her head.
“Ain’t no one gonna prove nothin’ on me, brat. You and Josie Tyler are gonna pay. And so is that Hanson woman.” The sound of a phone slammed down made Madelaine flinch.
“Madelaine?” Mrs. Hanson’s voice came from the doorway between the kitchen and living room. “Who was on the phone, child?”
She could feel Uncle David’s words sending up vines of fear that tried to choke her the way English Ivy choked out trees, by covering them and keeping them from the warm sun. A chill ran up her arms, raising goose bumps as she turned towards Mrs. Hanson. “That,” she swallowed hard. “That was Uncle David.”
Mrs. Hanson waited. When Madelaine couldn’t force herself to say another word, Billy stepped around his mother and made his way to her. “Madelaine? Look up here at me.” He commanded in a gentle voice. “Holy moly! You’re so pale you look sick. What did David Tyler say to you?”
“He…he burned the barn.” She whispered. “He thought the horses were trapped inside.” Tears coursed down her cheeks. She looked into Billy’s kind blue eyes. “Why would he want to burn them?”
Billy pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her. “Some people are born mean, Madelaine. Just born mean.”
Madelaine ducked her head and wiped her eyes on the tail of her wolf t-shirt. She took a couple of steps backward then looking from Mrs. Hanson to Billy and back again, she asked, “What did you mean Grandmother raised Uncle David like he was her own? He was Dad’s brother, wasn’t he?”
Mrs. Hanson took a deep breath, closed her eyes and let it out slowly. She re-opened her eyes. Madelaine was staring straight into her face. “This surely is not my place to be tellin’, but your grandmother isn’t David’s natural mother. Josie married David’s father, Daniel, when David was just two years old.”
Eyes big, Madelaine asked, “Does Uncle David know?”
Mrs. Hanson gave a tired nod. “He found out after his daddy died. Made him mad that Josie got the house and all of Daniel’s estate except for the trust fund his daddy set up for David.” She shook her head slowly. “Boy’s been mad ever since.”
Billy slapped his hands together. Not a loud noise, Madelaine thought, more like he was dusting dirt off. “Enough of David Tyler. We need to eat breakfast and saddle up. It’s time to go search for Black Wind.”
That day, and for the next three days, they searched the mountain. No sign of Black Wind. As night closed in around them that fourth day, they dismounted at the pasture gate and tied the horses to the split rail fence. The fire had destroyed the tack stored in the barn so they only had a couple of brushes and two burlap bags to rub and brush the sweat from the horses’ bodies. “Good thing Mrs. Hanson kept the saddles and bridles in the house to keep the mice from chewing them,” Madelaine thought as they turned the horses out to graze. “Maybe mice are good for something.”
Madelaine climbed up one rail and propped her arms on the top rail of the four- rail fence. “I know you said we have to go visit Grandmother tomorrow so she doesn’t get too worried, but how are we going to tell her we haven’t found Black Wind yet?” Tears stood in her eyes. She stared at the horses, not wanting to turn around and let Mrs. Hanson and Billy see her bawling like some little kid.
“We haven’t given up, child. And, Josie knows we won’t.” Mrs. Hanson patted Madelaine’s back. “Time to eat supper. Let’s head for the house.”
When Madelaine and Mrs. Hanson walked into Regency Care Center at two the next afternoon, Josie Tyler was sitting on the edge of her bed, fully dressed with a metal cane by her side. “I’m ready to go home, Marian.” She told Mrs. Hanson.
“You can go home?” Madelaine blurted out. “Did Dr. Singh say it was okay?” She could feel her smile stretching her face so wide it almost hurt. Grandmother was coming home! She wanted to clap her hands and twirl in circles like a six-year old kid.
An hour later, Mrs. Hanson pulled her car up close to the front porch so Grandmother wouldn’t have far to walk. Madelaine thought the old farmhouse house looked more beautiful than ever. She was home again and Grandmother was back! The only worry Madelaine had was the three steps up to the front porch door. She eyed her Grandmother’s cane.
Grandmother gripped her cane in the hand that had been twisted by her stroke then grabbed onto the porch banister with her good hand. One step at a time, she thumped up to the porch. Mrs. Hanson walked close beside her like she wanted to hold Grandmother’s arm but knew better. Grandmother was the kind who liked to do things for herself. Madelaine didn’t say anything, but she walked close behind Grandmother. Like Mrs. Hanson, she wanted to be close to Grandmother, just in case she might stumble.
When Grandmother finally made it to the porch, she stood huffing to catch her breath while Mrs. Hanson pulled a key ring from her jeans pocket and headed for the heavy front door. She started to put the key in the lock then stopped. Madelaine wondered if maybe she didn’t have the right key in hand until she saw Mrs. Hanson push against the door. On hinges Grandmother kept well-oiled, the door swung inward.
“Oh sweet Jesus,” Mrs. Hanson murmured in a voice so low Madelaine could barely hear her. “How could that boy….”
Grandmother hobbled up beside her friend. Peering over Mrs. Hanson’s shoulder, Grandmother sucked in a sharp breath. “David Tyler,” she muttered, “you sure got a lot to answer for.”
Madelaine squeezed between the doorjamb and Grandmother, wiggling her way into the front room. The bare front room. Unable to believe what she was seeing, or in this case not seeing, Madelaine moved on into the room. The very empty room. Rectangles and circles darker than the rest of the hardwood floor marked where the couch and the coffee table and the recliner, Grandmother always sat in, used to be. Even the hand-braided throw rugs were gone.
Footsteps echoing in the emptiness and brain spinning with disbelief, she drifted from room to room in the house where she had lived since she was five. She walked on legs that felt like sticks of wood, all stiff and brittle as if they might give out at any time.
“How could Uncle David do this to Grandmother?” She wondered as she stumbled up the stairs to the second floor. The second floor bedrooms, like the rooms on the first floor, were bare of furniture. Grandmother’s lovely, old, wood furniture.
As she made her way downstairs, she heard Mrs. Hanson insisting, “Yes, you can, Josie. You and Madelaine. I’ve got plenty of room in that big old house. It’ll be nice to have steady company for a change instead of rattling around like a lone pea in a big pot. Besides,” she said in a voice that sounded like she’d won the argument, “you’re too old and banged up to be sleeping on a floor in a sleeping bag, even if you had a sleeping bag.”
Madelaine walked into the living room. Grandmother, leaning against the granite mantle above the fireplace, retorted in a voice that sounded kind of sad. “He probably stole the sleeping bags, too.”
Mrs. Hanson laid a work-rough hand on Grandmother’s shoulder. “We’d best get going, Josie. Billy will be wondering where I am.”
The only sounds on the drive back to Mrs. Hanson’s house was the whine of the tires on pavement and the growl of the engine as she shifted gears. Madelaine stared out the side window of the car. She knew she should feel worse about Grandmother loosing everything. But she couldn’t. Not when Black Wind was still lost on the mountain.
Open fields gave way to scattered trees and eventually to thick woods as Mrs. Hanson drove up Shy Bear Mountain. “Black Wind where are you?” Madelaine whispered.
END OF PART 4
