Read Online Medicine Walk by Richard Wagamese - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Richard Wagamese
Ads: Link
hung up in you a long time. I give ya points for gumption though.”
Eldon closed his eyes and lowered his head. “Thing is,” he said, “I don’t know where to go from here. It’s out. It’s there. But I plumb don’t know what to do. Maybe this was for shit.”
The kid looked up at the old man, who stepped over and put a hand on his shoulder. They both studied Eldon, who stood straighter and set his lips into a grim line.
“I gotta think on this,” Eldon said. “I gotta go.”
“To where?” the old man asked. “It’s out. You said yourself. Can’t go nowhere without the truth of it followin’ you around. You owe now.”
“Owe what?”
“Time. You lost seven years of it.”
“I can’t change that.”
“No. But you can make the years coming different.”
“How?”
“Gonna have to work that out for yourself. Me? I’d put the plug in the jug and sort it out quick.”
Eldon looked at the kid. His face seemed to waver like the shimmy the wind makes on the face of a pond. The kid just looked back at him calmly. “He just needed to know, is all,” Eldon said and fumbled about for another smoke.
The kid switched looks back and forth from the old man to Eldon. He needed one of them to tell him what to do. He could hear the cows bawling in the paddock and the hard, flat clap of a rifle shot echoing off the ridge. Eldon fidgeted. Then he pulled out the whisky and tipped it up and drank. When he pulled it away from his mouth he studied it as though surprised at the emptiness. Then he stood and tucked it back into his pocket. “Sorry,” Eldon said. “I shoulda thought this through.” He looked at the old man, who just shook his head sadly. Then he stared at the ground and puffedout his cheeks. When he looked up the kid could see how spooked he was. “Sorry,” he said again and stomped off.
All they could do was watch him go.
“My father,” the kid said.
“Yessir,” the old man said.
“He never said nothin’ about my mother,” the kid said.
He watched as the old man’s face clouded. “Comes a time for it I’ll tell ya but for now it’s up to him,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because it’s a father’s thing to do. It’s him who owes ya that. Not me.”
“Maybe he’ll be too scared to talk about that.”
The old man scowled. “Could be yer right there,” he said.
9
IN THE MORNING HE WAS FEVERISH . The kid could see the yellow cast of him and when he offered up the bottle his father waved it away and struggled to a sitting position and lit a smoke. He pushed the kid’s hand away from his brow and stared at the ground.
“What do I do?” the kid asked.
“Nothing. Liver’s shutting down.”
“Can you eat?”
“I can try.”
He checked the nightline and there were three trout that he cleaned and flayed and placed over the fire on sticks. Whenthey were finished he handed one of the sticks to his father and he picked at the flesh and tried a few mouthfuls and then handed the stick back and took a drink from the bottle. The kid ate the fish. He walked out to where the horse was tied and brushed her out and saddled her. Then he walked her close to the lean- to and left her there and began cleaning up the camp and reloading the pack. It was sunny but crisp and his father kept the mackinaw pulled around him. The kid kicked out the fire and then killed it with a canteen full of water and handfuls of sand from the creekbed. Then he disassembled the lean- to and laid the boughs and saplings in the trees and helped his father up onto the horse.
“Why do that?” his father asked.
“Respect. Gotta leave it the way you found it,” he said.
“Can’t ever leave nothing the way you found it.”
“You’d be the one to know that, I suppose.”
“What’re you sayin’?”
The kid stared up at him. He could feel words churning in his gut, like fish fighting their way upstream. None broke the surface. He brushed the horse’s neck and stared at her brown orb of an eye.
Eldon closed his eyes and lowered his head. “Thing is,” he said, “I don’t know where to go from here. It’s out. It’s there. But I plumb don’t know what to do. Maybe this was for shit.”
The kid looked up at the old man, who stepped over and put a hand on his shoulder. They both studied Eldon, who stood straighter and set his lips into a grim line.
“I gotta think on this,” Eldon said. “I gotta go.”
“To where?” the old man asked. “It’s out. You said yourself. Can’t go nowhere without the truth of it followin’ you around. You owe now.”
“Owe what?”
“Time. You lost seven years of it.”
“I can’t change that.”
“No. But you can make the years coming different.”
“How?”
“Gonna have to work that out for yourself. Me? I’d put the plug in the jug and sort it out quick.”
Eldon looked at the kid. His face seemed to waver like the shimmy the wind makes on the face of a pond. The kid just looked back at him calmly. “He just needed to know, is all,” Eldon said and fumbled about for another smoke.
The kid switched looks back and forth from the old man to Eldon. He needed one of them to tell him what to do. He could hear the cows bawling in the paddock and the hard, flat clap of a rifle shot echoing off the ridge. Eldon fidgeted. Then he pulled out the whisky and tipped it up and drank. When he pulled it away from his mouth he studied it as though surprised at the emptiness. Then he stood and tucked it back into his pocket. “Sorry,” Eldon said. “I shoulda thought this through.” He looked at the old man, who just shook his head sadly. Then he stared at the ground and puffedout his cheeks. When he looked up the kid could see how spooked he was. “Sorry,” he said again and stomped off.
All they could do was watch him go.
“My father,” the kid said.
“Yessir,” the old man said.
“He never said nothin’ about my mother,” the kid said.
He watched as the old man’s face clouded. “Comes a time for it I’ll tell ya but for now it’s up to him,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because it’s a father’s thing to do. It’s him who owes ya that. Not me.”
“Maybe he’ll be too scared to talk about that.”
The old man scowled. “Could be yer right there,” he said.
9
IN THE MORNING HE WAS FEVERISH . The kid could see the yellow cast of him and when he offered up the bottle his father waved it away and struggled to a sitting position and lit a smoke. He pushed the kid’s hand away from his brow and stared at the ground.
“What do I do?” the kid asked.
“Nothing. Liver’s shutting down.”
“Can you eat?”
“I can try.”
He checked the nightline and there were three trout that he cleaned and flayed and placed over the fire on sticks. Whenthey were finished he handed one of the sticks to his father and he picked at the flesh and tried a few mouthfuls and then handed the stick back and took a drink from the bottle. The kid ate the fish. He walked out to where the horse was tied and brushed her out and saddled her. Then he walked her close to the lean- to and left her there and began cleaning up the camp and reloading the pack. It was sunny but crisp and his father kept the mackinaw pulled around him. The kid kicked out the fire and then killed it with a canteen full of water and handfuls of sand from the creekbed. Then he disassembled the lean- to and laid the boughs and saplings in the trees and helped his father up onto the horse.
“Why do that?” his father asked.
“Respect. Gotta leave it the way you found it,” he said.
“Can’t ever leave nothing the way you found it.”
“You’d be the one to know that, I suppose.”
“What’re you sayin’?”
The kid stared up at him. He could feel words churning in his gut, like fish fighting their way upstream. None broke the surface. He brushed the horse’s neck and stared at her brown orb of an eye.
Similar Books
