HOT WINDS RACED through the canyon, turning the acrid air thick. Desiccated flora spun aimlessly. Creatures lay dead and those dying writhed in agony upon the hard land. Bodies heaved like bellows, tongues flapping over rotting flesh. No man or animal sought inspiration in such turmoil. No thought or habit — good or treacherous — could overcome the searing heat that swept through the rugged pass.
The peace Tom Madden craved during the last years never came. He kicked his chair back, walked to the rattling window, parted the dusty curtains, and stared into the haze. A lone coyote knelt on its forelegs, its spectral howls muted by the clamor of wicked currents. Madden gazed into the sky, convinced God had fled unannounced, stealing the stars and abandoning a stained moon at the pale of a darkened settlement. When he looked again for the coyote it was gone.
“All right. I’m done jacking myself around,” he growled.
He coughed, his sleeve wiping the bloody drool as he pushed open the door and stepped into the blaze. Swirling drafts caught his duster and lifted it high off his boot shafts. In the dense twilight, his frail body seemed a fearless shadow making its way to the work shed. The latched door stood firm upon the slab, the adjacent slats weakened from pelted clots of dirt. Madden kicked the door inward. He coughed again, this time longer and harder. The mouthful of blood tasted like some arsenical cocktail.
His flashlight edged past the bins that stored the memories of better days. Madden removed a rifle from the wall rack. The ammo box lay on a shelf below. There were two cartridges left. He loaded one. It was all he needed to bring his target down.
A low rumbling came from the west. He exited the shed and shielded his eyes, looking out across the crepuscular wasteland that sloped up toward the distant highway that wound beside a ridge. South along that road sprawled a city of pain and desire. He hardly ventured there, cleaving to a solitary life after his son’s death and his wife’s departure.
Dust clouds churned behind a vehicle coming down the dirt road and ending at his house. Its engine hummed several octaves below the shrieking wind. Madden aimed his rifle. Roof lights flashed. He lowered the weapon and waited. The deputy pulled up beside him and stepped out of his car, holding fast the crown of his hat.
“God damn, Madden. I ain’t ever seen weather like this before.”
Madden leaned on the rifle for support but said nothing. The deputy hollered over the wind.
“Your wife Jenny … remember her? Sent me to deliver a message. She’s worried about you.”
Madden coughed and quickly covered his mouth. The deputy caught sight of the blood stain on Madden’s sleeve.
“You all right?”
Madden waved him away. The deputy didn’t move.
“Mind if we continue this conversation inside, Tom? My eyes are burnin’ fierce.”
The deputy followed Madden, slapping his dusty uniform with his wide-brimmed hat. “What ya plannin’ to do with that 30-aught 6? Unlikely there’s suitable game in this peculiar weather. Ain’t seen such death scattered about since the outbreak — must be twenty years ago. Sure is a different world here. I’d go as far as to call it hostile.”
Madden didn’t answer so the lawman continued.
“I got to say, you’re lookin’ sickly,” said the deputy.
“Ain’t asked your opinion. Consider your job done and scoot back to town, Caine. Jenny need know nothing of my state.”
“What do ya propose I tell her?”
“Tell her I wasn’t here when you showed up.”
“I won’t lie to her, Madden. She has a right to know. Just to be clear. This ain’t official business nor is it a social call on my behalf.”
“And I ain’t seeking one on my behalf — especially from the likes of you.”
“Jenny’s a fine and handsome woman,” said Caine. “She erred choosin’ the lesser man between us.”
“Was no mistake. She ain’t stupid. And lest you forget it’s a sin to covet another man’s wife.”
Caine sneered. The men stood waiting on each other’s silence. Madden drew his words first, speaking softly as if talking to himself.
“Maybe I’d be of a different mind if I was younger. I’m staying put. She knows where to find me.”
The deputy cut a new crease in his hat with the side of his hand. “All these years pinin’ away out here on account of the tragedy,” he said. “What a waste.”
“Ain’t none of your concern.”
“It’s no secret Jenny left you because of the accident on the highway. Wasn’t her fault. Deer come outta nowhere. Shoot, I’ve seen how the loss of a child twists folks up. Then they blame each other or worse.”
“That’s enough, now.”
The deputy continued, testing the fortitude of Madden’s admonishment.
“Losin’ the young boy hit her hard. Spent all that time in the mental hospital and still ain’t fully right.”
“No way that woman’s crazy,” insisted Madden. “Just confused.”
“Needs consolation. She breaks down and cries as if relivin’ the horror. Thinks her boy is comin’ home for dinner. A damn shame.”
“Sounds like you’ve taken a certain interest in her . . . again.”
“My duty demands I support anyone in times of woe,” said the deputy.
“Ain’t right. That’s a husband’s job. The woman ought to be here with me.”
“Now don’t go gettin’ the wrong idea.”
“Wouldn’t be advisable for any man to take advantage of her misfortune,” said Madden.
“You accusin’ me of sportin’ with your wife?”
“I said any man, though you’re the first who comes to mind.”
“Ever hear of sympathy?”
“Sure. I could use a bit myself,” said Madden. “I’d wake up to her sweet face, wondering why she chose me to forever lie beside. She ain’t of a mind to cheat, either, and loved our boy beyond words.” Madden wiped his eye with his bloodstained sleeve. “That boy, he was the light of our lives. The damn accident put an end to everything good.”
“Far as I’m concerned, anyone who drives that highway puts his life in God’s hands,” said Caine. “It’s not even a matter how many warnin’ signs line the shoulders. The road was built with too many possibilities for things to go wrong.”
“God had no hand in it. Hasn’t been around for some time.”
Madden leaned back and set his boot against the wall. The rifle barrel rested on his shoulder. A painful cough came from deep within and he bent over and grabbed his gut trying to catch a breath.
“Oughta see a doc.”
Madden slowly uncoiled himself. “Sickness got little to do with it. It’s the loss of goodness that ruins a man. Now, you ought to leave — and make damn sure you quell them misplaced feelings for Jenny.”
Caine snickered. “Can’t reckon what she saw in you.”
Madden aimed the rifle at the deputy. His arms shook and his finger trembled on the trigger.
“Leave me as you found me. I’m out of patience.”
“I could arrest you and haul you in for threatenin’ an officer of the law.”
“Try and I’ll shoot you for trespassing. You got no warrant and I don’t believe I formally invited you in.”
“She sure is a beautiful woman,” said Caine who started to leave then stopped and pointed at Madden. “You can rot in this filthy place for all I care. Would be no loss to Jenny and great satisfaction to me.”
“You always took pleasure in others’ suffering. More so maybe in mine. Now git!”
Madden cocked the rifle in an exclamation of disdain. Caine turned and slammed the door as he walked out. Madden listened to the engine rev and the faint crunching of gravel beneath the tires. The red tail lights blinked like fiendish eyes fading into the hazy darkness. The scent of the deputy’s stale cologne was all that remained.
*
Madden tilted the pot and poured himself a cup of cold, week-old coffee. He stared at its thickness while he thought about Caine’s words: A filthy place. He bent over and ran his hand over the uneven wood floor. Dust covered his fingers. “Huh,” he said. “Don’t matter. No enterprise left in this body.”
The wind died down and the beams stopped creaking — as if nature had awarded an indeterminate moment of respite to all things. “Now’s the time,” muttered Madden. He picked up the rifle and headed out. He took his place atop a flat rock near the canyon entrance and positioned the muzzle beneath his jaw, feeling the warm metal poke his gullet. His finger coiled around the trigger, only seconds away from sending himself into the domain of lost souls. A hacking cough roared from his chest a moment before the blast echoed through the canyon. The sting of gunpowder rode up the side of his face as the rifle dropped off the edge of the perching rock. He collapsed, eyes wide open staring at the house where Jenny stood calling his name. Madden tried to answer but the words died upon his lips — as in the madness of dreams.
“You, Tom. Dinner’s ready. Find our son and bring him home,” he heard.
Then he passed out, but not away.
*
Madden glanced around as he propped himself up against the headboard. He had the notion of being ruthlessly returned to a life of misery. The deputy stared down at him and then stepped aside when Jenny approached holding a bowl of water and a cloth. She sat beside Madden and placed a cool towel on his forehead.
“How’s my boy?” she said.
“Say my senses ain’t deceiving me,” said Madden.
“Caine told me you were ailing. I worried you’d do something stupid and I was right. We found you all scuffed up lying on a rock. Don’t know why you’d be out wandering in your condition. Lucky mama’s here to take care of you and bring you back to town.”
He had no strength to argue about her intentions.
“Guess I’ll be goin’ now. I expect to see you soon,” said Caine, aiming his words at Jenny, who smiled. The deputy touched the brim of his hat and departed.
“You seem mighty friendly with him,” said Madden.
“What’s wrong with being grateful for his help?”
“Nothing. Just that you could have found me without his assistance.”
“I suppose I could have. It wouldn’t make me any less appreciative.”
Madden took silent exception to her words, then drew in a deep and painful breath.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I ain’t feeling good. Let me rest a while.”
“You’ve rested plenty. You’re thin as a rail and need sustenance.”
Jenny checked the cupboard. A solitary can of beans sat on an otherwise empty shelf. She cranked the rusted knob of the can opener, stopping halfway around, then pulled back the jagged top and stared at the beans as they slowly dripped into the pot. She lit the stove and set two hardwood bowls and flatware on the table.
Jenny walked into the bedroom and wrapped Madden’s arm around her shoulder. He felt the warmth of her body as they paced toward the kitchen. He took a seat and she served the simple meal.
“My little boy never could look after himself,” she said.
“I’m happy you’re back. I know now that dying before my time wasn’t meant to be.”
“Why would you say such a thing?”
Madden set his spoon down and stared at his wife. She seemed very much the woman of his past, not a bit distracted or fragile like the deputy described her. She touched his hand. He doubted a man would feel such pleasure in death and thanked fate for intervening. Madden pulled himself off the chair and stood behind her, stroking the coppery hair of the woman he once loved and could love again.
*
He woke late the next day from a restful night during which unexpected youthful strength poured out of his body. From the heights of despair, he had fallen into the lushness of the woman who had forsaken him. Jenny stood near the doorway in her chemise, humming a song she sang while rocking the cradle before their years of discontent. Madden raised himself on one arm and noticed several drops of blood on the pillow. For the first time, it scared him.
He coughed.
“You okay?”
“Ain’t nothing to worry over,” he said, hiding the stains with his hand.
He watched as she slipped into her jumper.
“Maybe you can fix a fresh pot of coffee.”
“Sure, Baby. A fine thing it’ll be getting back to the city. The doc will fix you and we’ll be a happy family again.”
He dressed and walked into the kitchen and placed his hands on her hips and kissed the neck of his living sacrament. She turned and handed him a cup and they retired to the couch. He sipped slowly — his eyes fixed on his wife. Jenny sat beside him, her body tense as she stared across the room, gripping her cup, listening to the buzzing windows and creaking beams as the powerful winds returned.
“Something troubling you?” he said.
“This is what you’ve been living with?”
“You mean the wind? It’ll pass. It wasn’t like this back then.”
“How can you stand it? I’m scared, Tom. The house will come crashing down and kill us all!”
She dropped the cup and covered her ears.
“Hey, now. Take it easy. Nothing like that is going to happen.”
Madden dropped to his knees and retrieved the fallen cup. He soaked up the spill with his handkerchief. Jenny crouched beside him and held his arm. “We need to go before things get worse. Now! I’ll mind the boy while you pack.”
Madden knelt startled by her insistence on leaving and her odd remark about their son. It neared twilight when he finished packing the station wagon. The last item he stowed was his rifle which he had retrieved and reloaded with the remaining cartridge from the broken shed.
“No reason to carry that weapon into the city. Things are different there.”
“Some things don’t abide by boundaries,” he said, then turned to look at their canyon home.
“Don’t look back,” said Jenny. “That house is sick and wants to die.”
He opened the passenger door and eased himself in. He recognized the scent of the deputy.
“You been seeing Caine. His cheap scent is all over the car.”
“Nice you think another man would be interested in me.”
“I can deal with another man. My unease is with your interest in him.”
“He helped me move some things, that’s all. I can’t do much about his smell.”
Madden slumped into his seat and wiped the feverish sweat from his brow. The car slowly rolled over the dirt path toward the road that led to the city. The night closed in by the time they reached the highway. Jenny looked at Madden, then at the road, then back at Madden.
“Nice having you back in our lives,” she said. “One happy family, again.”
Madden leaned his head against the side window.
“You’re so quiet, Baby,” she said. “Something wrong?”
“No. Mind the signs. You know this road.”
Madden looked up at the sky. The moon hung clear and luminous — almost friendly. Beside it glimmered two fugitive stars and between them the prospect of happiness. He and Jenny would spend some time in the city, he imagined, get well, then return to the canyon. Caine had been warned, though threats mean little to such scoundrels. The second bullet in the rifle chamber awaited the deputy’s next wrong move. Life will be as it should. Might even consider starting a new family.
“I have a surprise, Tom. Our boy is coming to dinner.”
Her words jolted Madden out of his reverie.
“We need to get back before he arrives. He gets upset if I’m late.”
“Where’s he been?” asked Madden, trying to probe her thinking.
Jenny didn’t answer. She pressed the accelerator pedal harder.
“Slow down. There ain’t no boy awaiting us. It’s just you and me now.”
“Won’t it be wonderful to see him? Of course, it’ll take some time for him to get to know you, again.”
“Ease up, I said. Mind the signs. You know the dangers of this road.”
Jenny sped along the serpentine highway. The car rattled and its tires squealed, barely holding the road. As they came around a sharp curve the brakes locked. She had lost control of the car. The wagon caromed off the guardrail and spun wildly until it came to rest with its rear crushed upward against the ridge. Jenny sat hunched over the steering wheel, her body cushioned by her arms. She shook her head to clear her mind, then took account of the car. A man sat next to her. She couldn’t recall why he was there. His head lay against the shattered windshield. She pulled him back and studied his lifeless face in the moonlight. He looked so much like her son.
— STEPHEN MYER
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