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Something About Teague
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Something About Teague |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California 
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(This is a part of a longer work of fiction) Teague glowed. She felt different. At times she felt as if all her nerve endings were unprotected, and at other times she was so lost in reverie that she didn’t know where she was or what she was doing from one minute to the next. She went through the motions of making the bed and eating but her mind was disconnected. All she wanted was to be with Samuel again. After their lovemaking in the pool they had been quiet all the way back to the stables. It was as if words might break the spell that bound them and turn the world ordinary again. When they said good bye, Samuel had kissed her gently and said simply, "I’ll call you." It had been two days and he hadn’t called. That night Teague decided to take matters into her own hands. She called him. The phone rang and rang. She put on her jeans and familiar moccasins and threw on a serape she had found in the closet. It was cool outside and the cicadas were singing. The sound made her think of electricity and ions charging invisible through the night air. She drove up the winding road. What was she doing out here in this dark unfamiliar night? She wasn’t sure, except she was following some primitive heart instinct. When she came to Samuel’s cabin there were no lights inside and the porch light was on. She knocked at the door just to be sure he wasn’t home. She had brought a carrot for Spirit and Sheba, so she drove on and pulled up in front of the corral. She heard the nicker and blowing of a horse inside. She went up to the fence surrounding the paddock and clicked her tongue. Sheba immediately came out of the dark beyond and nosed up to the fence. "Sheba, you pretty, here’s a carrot for you. What a good girl you are. Where’s your friend Spirit?" she said looking around. There was no sign of Spirit. She went back to the car and got the flash light from the glove compartment. She had prepared her car for emergencies when she had gone to the hardware store to pick up light bulbs and some tools for the house. She turned on the flash light and went in search of Spirit. The coral was empty and Spirit’s saddle was gone. She looked at her watch. It was seven o’clock. The stars were bright against the night sky, and she could smell sage and the good horse smell of the corral and a faint hint of leather and dust. Samuel must be with Spirit she reasoned, but why would they be out at night. There was no moon. The porch light of the cabin glowing dimly through the trees, and her flashlight, were sad sentinels to the isolation of this place. She was worried. What if something had happened to Samuel on the trail? What if he was hurt? She knew she shouldn’t go looking for him, but love was not reasonable and her heart was on fire with fear for this man that she had come to think of as hers. Without hesitating, and with her flashlight as guide she found Sheba’s saddle and bridle and blanket and began to do the things that Samuel had so patiently taught her. The far of sound of a dog barking bounced across the canyon walls. As she listened, the barking became a howl and was repeated again by other canyon creatures until it became an eerie symphony. Sheba’s ears had pricked back and her eyes danced uneasily. Teague led her to the fence and used it to help pull herself into the saddle. She held the flashlight with one hand illuminating the trail. Night turned the landscape into nightmare shapes as the canyon walls engulfed the trail. The sound of the river was violent, a cacophony that filled her with apprehension. The soft tap of Sheba’s hooves in the dirt comforted her. She was cold even with the wool serape around her, but she could feel Sheba’s warmth as she reached her hand down and patted her neck. "Good girl, Sheba," she said, "Let’s find Samuel, Okay, girl? Find Samuel." She couldn’t help thinking of the strange message she had written on the typewriter earlier. "The horse knows the way," it had said. She was giving Sheba the lead before she had even remembered these words. Her own confidence had been eroded by the cold, dark sky and the angry river’s voice. Sheba stopped for a moment at the place where the trail forked and sniffed at the dirt like a dog following a scent. Sheba turned and started up the smaller trail that had led to the warm pool. Teague had to hold on to the saddle horn, as her seat lurched from side to side. She leaned forward in the saddle adjusting to the steep ascent of Sheba’s surefooted trekking. The sound of the river lessened as they ascended and then became a soft murmur when they gained the top and proceeded through the grove of cedars. The pool was black and glistened with starlight. Steam softened the air around her and the smell of sulfur was strong. There was no sign of Samuel. Had she been a fool coming up here in fear that some harm had befallen him and that she could rescue him from whatever was keeping him from her arms? She carefully dismounted and tied Sheba to a nearby tree. She didn’t want to take the chance of losing her ride back. She walked up to the pool and stood taking deep breaths of the moist air. Then she kneeled down and put her cold hands into the warm water. A deep healing warmth flowed through her. She felt that if Samuel were here, she would be able to feel his presence, and she didn’t. She walked around the pool to the other side, feeling strangely peaceful and content. She could see Sheba across the water nibbling at some grasses. She turned and looked behind her. On this side of the pool the canyon wall rose in a soft, red curve and a lone tree stood sentinel beside some large boulders. They seemed to have been placed there, just so, by a more than mortal hand. She went closer, shining her way with the flashlight. Shadows danced on the canyon wall as she moved closer to the rocks. Then she saw the cave. It was hidden behind one of the boulders. She had to kneel down to shine the light inside. She didn’t think about the creatures that could be sleeping there or hiding, until a breeze passed her shoulder and she heard a faint rustling from inside the cave. She was more curious then scared even then, and crawled back into a hollowed out space in the rocks that was quite cozy. There were remnants of some kind of hide on the floor of the cave and a mostly burnt out candle and matches. She picked up the matches. The cover said, "Sedona Trading Post". She lit the one match that remained and as it flared she put it to the candle that was scrunched into the opening of an old beer can. She turned off her flash light and sat looking out at the blackness and wondered who had been here before her. Who had lit a candle and sat here drinking beer? Maybe this was where the Indians came, after bathing in the pool, to meditate and purify their souls. She felt a peaceful feeling, but underlying this was a current of turmoil, like a whirlpool in a glass lake. She felt the moist air stir again beside her and again a rustle further back in the cave. There was no room to stand up. The cave went back about five feet. She shone her flashlight back to where the sound had come from and noticed what looked like papers sticking out from under a rock. She crawled back and removed some rocks from on top of a plastic bag. The bag had been torn and one of the papers from inside had been dislodged. It was dirty and crumpled and the writing on it was faded and unreadable, but the paper that was still inside the bag was well-preserved. She took the bag with her and sat down beside the candle and took out the paper. The hand writing was the same child-like printing that she had read on the letter she had found in the back of Lightwing’s painting in the closet. She was sure of it. "My dearest heart song," she read, "you must meet me here on the night when the moon is at the full. There is a baby growing in me now two moons and I am sick from this secret of our love. You must go with me into the heart of the people who will not tell. We can circle this life together there and be true. Please. If you say no then I will die and our child too. I am a lifeless rock without your warm breath on me." She understood the heart ache of the writer. Love had hurt her too. She had tried to be the kind of wife that no husband would want to leave. The perfect wife. What was that anyway? She certainly didn’t know. If there had been a pattern she could have followed she would have. Take two steps, turn, twirl, jump, she would have done it all to create the union she had dreamed. But, real life wasn’t like that. Real life hurt. She thought she had the perfect song but when she sang, her voice was flat and nasal and the twang had irritated her, and then when she tried to harmonize with her husband’s low, methodical hum, well discord was what happened, and betrayal. Betrayal was what she saw in this letter, and a threat that made her suddenly feel the cold of this cave and the loneliness it held. Who could have written out of such despair? The fact that she had encountered this woman more than once made her feel like she was supposed to become involved. It felt almost as though she should be the mender or the rescuer, but of who? How long ago was the time when the moon was full? The one who was to read this may never have seen it. Maybe there was death in this spiritual place. She remembered more of the words that she had written on the typewriter, " bathe in glass, you will be the teller." She took her clothes off in the cave then pulled the serape over her, then flash light in hand she walked to the water’s edge. She lay the serape on a rock and turned the light off and slowly immersed her body in the warmth of the magical water. She looked up, and the stars were sure and steady in their light. She recognized familiar constellations. The smooth rock she sat on, left just her head emerging from the pool, then she closed her eyes and listened. Sheba snorted and move around and the symphony of night insects seemed louder and she heard something else, an intangible presence was here, not with malicious intent. She could feel a need that was almost palpable. "Tell me," she whispered. "I am open. Tell me." She tried to free herself of thoughts and open her mind. She tried to make a clear path for some kind of spiritual communication, but nothing spoke to her. Then she heard the clamoring of a horse and the barking of a dog. Sheba whinnied and then Samuel’s voice in the darkness across the pool calling out, "Hello", Teague, are you there? "Samuel," Teague called back. "I’m here, in the water." As she scrambled to get out she heard Cody barking close by, and then he was in the water, wagging all over and jumping on her bare legs. She came out of the water just as Samuel dismounted. With a short distance between them he stopped. She could feel his eyes on her. She didn’t know whether she should run into his arms or grab the serape and cover herself, then apologize for running off with his horse without permission. "Teague, you had me scared to death. What are you doing here at night, by yourself?" he finally said. Now she was freezing in the cold air. The warmth from the pool was gone and she had started to shiver uncontrollably. She picked up the serape and pulled it around her. "I’m sorry," she said. "I thought something had happened to you. I came up here to look for you." She picked up the flashlight and turned it on. The person she saw was Samuel, but a different Samuel, stern with steel-like rigidity. He was not smiling. This is not the way it’s supposed to be, she thought, as she took a step towards him. "I came to see you, but you were gone and Spirit was gone, so I thought that you had come up here and that you were hurt or something, I can’t explain. I felt compelled to come up here. Don’t be mad, please, I’m fine, and you’re okay too. I’m so glad." As she spoke, he just stood there and looked at her. "Come here," he finally said. She moved hesitantly towards him and he pulled her roughly to him. His arms held her beneath the serape in a grip that took her breath away. She felt the scratch of his face on her cheek and his hot breath against her hair, and something in her melted. She moved against him and then twined her fingers into his hair and pulled his head back and searched his face. "You really had me scared," he said. It’s been along time since I let myself care about another person. I’ve been afraid. Do you know what it’s like to have two of the people you love the most leave you at the same time?" "Yes, I do know. Divorce is a kind of death. The death of a relationship. My husband deserted me. He stopped loving me long before that. Oh, he went through the motions, but there was no forever in the way he made love, no love in his words of love. I spent three years dancing around him. Look at me, I said in my pirouette, see the glistening from the glass of the heart you are breaking. He didn’t see or he didn’t care to see and to this day I don’t really know why. Then my mother died. I think it was more difficult for me to morn for my lost love then for my own mother." She had started to cry. The sternness had melted from his eyes now. He kissed the tears on her cheeks then kissed her mouth, and she could taste the salt that had been squeezed from the despair of her past on his lips. "I don’t want to hurt you," he said. "I never want to hurt anyone again." She waited for him to say more, but he only kissed her again and again until all thoughts and questions and doubts were lost in the length of his body against hers. "Teague, I know about your loss. I’m sorry. Sorry for thinking only of myself, but I was afraid that something happened up here to you too, like my dad. You know I told you about the magic and healing power of red rock canyon, but there’s something else, something I pushed to the back of my mind, didn’t want to see. Since my dad’s death, I’ve felt it. I feel anger here. I came up here once, not long after his death. I was feeling so sad and Morning Cloud had become so distant. She spent most of her time with her Indian family. I was riding up the trail on Spirit and some thing happened. I lost time. The next thing I knew Spirit and I were on our way back to the coral and I felt so confused and disoriented. You know when we came here to this pool the first time. I felt like I had been here before in a dream. Something bad happened here Teague, I can feel it." Teague had started to shake from the cold again. "I need to get my clothes on, I’m freezing." "Where are they. I’ll get them for you," Samuel rearranged the serape around her and looked around for her clothes. "I left them up there in a cave," she told him. "See that dim light over there. There’s a candle and…" Samuel was already on his way back to the cave and didn’t hear her. She waited, but he didn’t come back. She was so cold now that her teeth were chattering. "Samuel," she called, but there was no answer. Teague could here Cody, who had followed Samuel, nosing around in the underbrush. "Cody, come here boy," she called. Cody was immediately next to her. "Come on boy", she said, feeling braver with him next to her. They went up to the cave, Teague, shining the flashlight in front of them. Samuel was inside, he was sitting down next to the candle, his jacketed shoulders hunched and convulsing. "Samuel?" she said. When he still didn’t respond, Teague came into the cave and put her hand on his shoulder. Then, she saw the letter, the sad and lost love letter, Samuel had it clutched in his fist. He was silently crying, and then he turned and grabbed her waist and buried his head in the serape and sobbed, great heaving, groaning sounds. Teague knelt down, all thoughts of the cold had left her. She held Samuel in her arms until the sobs became jagged breaths, and waited for him to tell her what she thought she already knew. When he finally looked up at her she saw raw and open agony. "I don’t understand," he said. This is Morning Clouds writing." |
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| © Copyright 2000 Martie Odell Ingebretsen - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN |
Interesting piece and nicely written! With some of these things left hanging though, it can be kind of distracting.. would like to see more! A writer's soul is on paper etched. In flames I shall not be consumed, but reborn. -- Abrahm Simons |
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Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612Hurricane Alley |
Excellent! Is there more? |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Yes, there is lots more..150 pages and counting...too much for this forum I'm afraid. Thank you so much for your comments. I have been stalled on this story for a bit....and appreciate the imput. |
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Denise
Moderator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-08-22
Posts 22648 |
Wow! Martie, this is quite the captivating tale! Excellent writing! I'd like to read more of this! Denise |
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Elizabeth Santos Member Rara Avis
since 1999-11-08
Posts 9269Pennsylvania |
Martie, Dying to read this but can't find my glasses. I'll be back later. Liz |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Thank you Dusk Treader and PDV for the read and Denise, glad you enjoyed it too. I'll post another part of the story soon. Liz, did you find your glasses? [This message has been edited by Martie (edited 03-03-2000).] |
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Elizabeth Santos Member Rara Avis
since 1999-11-08
Posts 9269Pennsylvania |
Martie, I found my glasses and finally got to read this. We do have a novelist among us, I'm very proud to know. Martie, this is wonderful. I don't know what to say. I wish I could read the finished product. When will that be? Your problem is you have too many talents, and one detracts from the other. All I can say is that you are a very talented writer and poet. Liz |
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