Chapter Eleven: First day Home

“Juanito,” Veronica whispered. “Wake, hijo.” Juan opened his eyes. cheap albion silver At first he seemed bewildered, then his eyes changed into the eyes of yesterday’s little boy, one smitten by a memory. “Buenos dias,” he said. “¿Esta mañana?” She pulled him to her and kissed him on the crown of his head. “Yes, my little one. Rise and go with Miguel to gather eggs. buy albion gold Vaya con Miguel para huevos. Miguel, speak to him in English and in Spanish. He must learn to speak English if he is to be a rancher here someday. Put him into some of your clothes. It is cold, so let him wear two shirts until I can make him a jacket.” “Donde esta mis padres?” “Sus padres han pasado al próximo mundo.” “Con los angeles?” “Si. Con los angeles. Está bien, Juanito. albion gold Está bien.” Miguel helped Juan into the shirts and then into a pair of pants. He cinched the britches up and tied the waist with a piece of string. “I will make you suspenders tomorrow, but for now the string will do for a belt. Ven, mi nuevo hermano. Tenemos trabajar. We must visit the chickens. Papá is already outside working. Then we will have breakfast.” Juan smiled and nodded. “Si! Estoy listo.” Miguel took him by the hand and led him outside. * * * Micah slept better and in a deeper sleep than he had expected. He woke to the smell of coffee and biscuits. He sat up, swung his feet to the floor, and said, “Mornin’, Erin. I sure ain’t used to anyone cookin’ for me. You should have woke me. albion silver I would have helped you.” “Don’t talk foolishness,” Erin said. “I could feel it in your body that you’re bone-weary. buy albion gold I’ve looked forward to making your breakfast again for a long time. After all, I’ve got to get your strength up for all those chores I got lined up for you to do.” “I’ll get to them soon enough. I guess you heard of the Ranger unit being formed to go after the Comanches that raided some families along the Brazos.” “Yes, and by the way you ask it, I guess I should expect you to go with them.” “Ramon will be by directly. We’re going out to see my parents’ graves, and then into town to talk to the unit leader. You can’t tell—I may not like him and may turn around come back home.” “You and I both know you’ll go out looking for the Indians. You just can’t help yourself when it comes to doing the right thing—or starting a fight.” “Daddy’s awake!” Skye said. “We can go down now.” The twins clambered down the ladder and both of them made their way to Micah. He clutched them to himself and felt his heart crack. How on earth have I made it without seeing them? he asked himself. Ramon arrived at Micah’s house not long after breakfast. He embraced kissed Erin and the twins, and said, “I have gifts for the twins.” Skye and Benjamin hurried over to him. Skye spoke first. “Since my brother’s a donkey, I bet you brought him some oats!” Erin thumped Skye’s head. “That meanness of yours is getting tiresome, little girl.” “For you, Benjamin.” Ramon held out a small burlap sack. “Pecans.” Then he held out a small silver mirror. cheap albion gold “For you, Skye. But you must share it with your mother. I’ve engraved both of your names on the back.” Skye too the mirror by the handle and held it up to study her reflection. She turned the mirror over and whispered the inscription Ramon had made: To Erin and Skye “I’ll never part with it, Mr. Chavez. Never.” Ramon patted each twin on the head. “You are loved like my own children, hijos.” Micah kissed Erin and the twins. “Say a prayer for your daddy.” Outside, Ramon handed Micah a sack of corn. “For your horse. We’ll probably be gone several days.” “Colbert is used to eating grass, but I don’t reckon he’ll mind some grain. Likely it will spoil him though.” “You weren’t given grain for your horse during the war?” “We got some now and then, but we always ate it ourselves. Once or twice, when there weren’t no grain for the horses, we had to eat the horses too.” Micah rode with Ramon to his parents’ place. The cabin his father had worked so hard to construct had burned to the ground, and the stone chimney stood like a hollow tombstone over the blackened ground and charcoal timbers. He remembered seeing the many houses in Louisiana that General Banks’ men had burned as they retreated in disgrace down the Red River. Under a juniper tree, rose a flat piece of carved sandstone that marked his little brother’s grave. Micah didn’t read the engraved words on the stone, but he knew them by heart: BENJAMIN WARREN EVANS BELOVED SON

OF RACHEL AND JOHN EVANS FEBRUARY 1856-1860

Next to his brother’s grave stood the sandstone tombstones that marked the graves of his father and mother. They dismounted and tied their horses to the juniper. cheap albion gold Micah spat. “The place is in rough shape. The land looks empty without the house.” “It is not the land that is empty, hijo, but your heart. The land and spring are still good and they are yours. It will be a good place to raise a family. buy albion silver It is better land than where you and Erin now live. I will help you rebuild the cabin if you want.” Micah said. “Pa always said he would never leave here.” “It broke my heart to bury my friend. I have dug many graves in Texas, but I never thought one would be his. I hope you don’t mind, but I brought a priest here after you went to war and asked him to give their bodies a blessing.” Micah nodded. “That’s alright. They were Methodists, but I reckon they are mighty pleased.” Micah knelt and touched each mound of earth, then each gravestone. “It ain’t right that there’s so much death in this place.” Ramon placed a hand on his shoulder. “No, it is not right. The Comanches do not fight with honor, nor with mercy. We should go now, hijo,” Ramon said. “After this Ranger expedition, I have work that must be done and I know you do too.” “Ain’t no shortage of work, that’s for sure.” Micah studied the charred timbers of the house, the graves, and the desolation of the sight dug in his heart like a knife. “I’m glad you both died quickly, and without violence,” he whispered.

A Preface

Each week, I intend to publish on this blog at least one chapter of my new novel, The Month the Babies Cry. Goedkoop Adidas NEO I’ve researched and worked on it for several years. albion gold When it is complete, I’ll get it into print form, though certainly there will be many revisions by that time. adidas zx flux uomo prezzi cheap albion gold The novel is set in the last two years of the War Between the States. cheap albion gold buy albion gold The point of view is rigidly Southern and Texan. New Balance 420 męskie Texans in the mid-nineteenth century were a tough breed of people, who settled, ranched, farmed, raised families in North and West Texas. buty siatkarskie asics allegro buy albion gold Too many of them died there. albion silver Micah and the other characters of my novel faced extreme difficulties, not only from the war that pulled 90,000 Texans into the Confederate Army, but from the wars with the Comanche and Kiowa. If you stroll through the graveyards of Jack, Wise, Hood and other counties, you will see many tombstones of men, women, and children who were killed by Comanche and Kiowa raiders. Nike Air Max 2016 Heren groen I have studied the Native Americans of Texas extensively and tried to be accurate and fair in presenting them, but the reader will not find the portrait of the media’s Noble Savage in the novel. From the Texan point of view, the Comanches and Kiowa were just savages. Though the early Texans were not without fault and transgression, the hate they felt for the Comanches and Kiowa had some justification. buy albion silver I hope to capture the heart, feelings, and thoughts of these frontier Texans. scarpe adidas italia cheap albion gold I love Texas and am proud to be a native Texan.

My ancestors on my father’s side were some of these early settlers that I chose to write about. Canotte Los Angeles Clippers The title of the novel, The Month the Babies Cry, comes from the Comanche word for February, which according to my research means, “The Month the Babies Cry.” Obviously, this is a hint that some key events happen in February. I hope to also have completed a study guide, a list of resources, and glossary for the novel by the time the complete printed version is published. I want to extend my personal thanks to Billy Dunn, my writing mentor. nike air max 2017 femme noir He is the one who most helped me begin my writing journey many years ago. cheap albion silver Thank you, reader, for beginning this Texas journey with me.

This is my tenth chapter of my western, The Month the Babies Cry.

Chapter Ten: Home

His house was dark. Micah tied his horse to the hitching rail in front and walked up to the door. He knew it would be barred, so he knocked and called out, “Erin! Erin, it’s Micah.”

“Who’s there?” Erin said in a sleepy voice.

“It’s Micah, Erin. For God’s sake open the door and let me see you.”

He heard her strike a Lucifer and saw a glow of light through the window as she lit the candle lantern. Then she withdrew the bar from the door and opened it. She held up the lantern so she could see his face.

She held her hand to her mouth. “Micah. It is you! Oh, Micah.”

Micah filled his eyes with her and entered, took the lantern and set it on the floor. He tossed his hat down to the floor and pulled her to him and kissed her. “I’ve waited a long time for this kiss, Erin.” He could feel the softness of her breasts through her cotton nightshirt.

Erin wrapped her arms around him and sobbed. “Micah, are you home for good? How long can you stay?”

“I just got home, sweetheart. Don’t go and start talking about when I’m going to have to leave. I’m on furlough, so I’ll be here a spell.” Yet, even as he said it, he knew he wasn’t going to go back. “Where are the babies?”

She pointed up to the loft. A little girl’s voice called out, “Mama? Is someone here? Who is it?”

“It’s your father, Skye. Come down and see him.”

“Benjamin, wake up! Daddy’s home!”

Benjamin only mumbled something, and then Micah heard Skye slap him. “I said get up, Benjamin! Come on!”

Skye scampered down the wooden ladder from the loft and ran to Micah. She stood and looked at him, her eyes as blue and intense as her mother’s, evaluating him. “You really my father?”

“Yes, Skye, I am.”

“Say something only my father would know.”

“Your mother would sing to you of the faeries at night.”

“Everyone knows she does that. Say something else.”

He held out his hand. “You and I were the only ones who can go across your magic bridge in two strides. You told me that yourself.”

She smiled. “I knew you were my father all along. I just wanted to hear you talk. Why have you been gone so long? You better not leave us again.”

Micah pulled her to him. “I really don’t know, Skye.”

Micah watched Benjamin climb slowly down the ladder. He came up to them rubbing his eyes.

“Hello, son,” Micah said.

Benjamin stepped up and hugged him. Micah released Erin’s waist and lifted the twins, one in each arm. He kissed them and set them down. “You kids go back to bed. It’s past midnight. We’ll talk more tomorrow. I haven’t seen your mother in a long time, and we need to talk some.” He winked at Erin.

Erin cleared her throat. Skye laughed. She took Benjamin by the hand and said, “Come on, Benjamin, before Daddy finds out you’re really a donkey changeling. I suppose they want to kiss and such and they can’t do that with us here.”

They climbed up the ladder, and Micah went outside to care for his horse.

When he finished, Micah entered and kissed Erin a long time.   As they undressed, he could hear the twins giggling. He stoked the fire with a couple of mesquite logs, banked the coals, blew out the lantern, and lay down with Erin. He and Erin made love and talked, and when Erin slept, he listened to the sound of her breathing as she slumbered.

Then, he listened to the night-sounds of Jack County—the distant coyotes, and a lone unknown winter songbird that shared a familiar, sad Texas melody. Micah thought his parents must have listened to the same song many nights. His parents loved Texas, and never missed much that Texas gave them, finding joy in all her music, even when the melody was a sad one. Sometime before he fell asleep, he remembered that, other than the trapper’s shack, this was the first night he had spent in a house in two years.

A Short Glossary for Bless Me Ultima by Rudolf Anaya

I just completed a wonderful read of Bless Me, Ultima, by Rudolf Anaya. As I work extensively in South Texas and the Rio Grande Valley, presenting my “Songs & Stories of Texas,” I’ve realized how important vocabulary is to students’ studies.  I know that since 1972, the book has been a reading selection for high school (and I would assume junior high) readers. I encourage you to research the awards and recognition this book has earned. To help you and your students with this read, and in case you or some of your students are not bilingual, I selected 33 words that are probably new to many students and teachers. I added simple definitions as the words are  used in the book. Some of the meanings of the Spanish sentences can be determined by context, but some cannot. There are so many good translation tools online that this should not present a problem.  Teachers teaching this book may want to use this list as a quiz, review, or bellringer. I did not list any of the what  might be considered as swear-words or crude language that is used in the book. Students probably already know these words and phrases anyway.  I encourage the teacher/student to use the Internet to find pictures and more details of the words listed here. If you have studied this book extensively and  I am wrong on any of these words, please email at rickeyp at bayou.com and I will make a correction or addition if it is warranted.

adobe – type of clay brick

atole –   hot corn based  beverage

bizcochitos – crisp lard- or butter-based cookie, flavored with cinnamon and anise.

bruja – witch

chicos – dried sweet corn

crudo – hungover

cuentos – songs

curandera – healer

doily – small lace mat placed under plate.

empaniditas – sweet cookies

el encanto – curse

farol – lantern

gabacha – white girl

grillos – crickets

llano – grassy plains

la llorona  – ghostly, weeping woman

manzanilla – chamomile tea

molino – mill

la misa de gallo – midnight mass

mitote – dream,dance

novena – private or public prayers repeated for nine successive days

nopal – prickly pear cactus

pesadilla – nightmare

piñon – a small pine with edible seeds.

oshá – an herb, root used for healing.

ristras – strings of dried chile peppers.

scapular – necklace with religious and personal significance.

vaquero – cowboy

velorio – wake

Virgen de Guadalupe – Mexico’s patron saint, honored on Dec. 12.

yerba del masno – medicinal plant of the Southwest

yerba de la vívora (also víbora) medicinal plant

yucca – a plant of the agave family with stiff swordlike leaves.

Here’s a photo of a scapular: 

*Teachers may use this list freely as long as credit is given to:

Rickey Pittman, Bard of the South,  https:www.bardofthesouth.com.

Now available on Amazon! Order HERE:  Below are some readers’ comments and blurbs about the novel.

Red River Fever by Rickey Pittman

Reviewed by Brandi Atkerson

Durant is a small, close-knit town in the Red River Valley with a serious problem.  Clifton Ray is the local bad boy and the legendary Red River Fever has done its best, or worst, to make him a force to be reckoned with.

At the beginning of the tale Clifton is just your typical hood.  Playing pranks on local businessmen and beating up women are just a couple of the despicable traits of this bundle of bad news.  Once he gets the fever though, things go downhill and quickly.  As the fever rages, Clifton’s pranks and bullying go darker and more violent, turning the fairly quiet town of Durant into a fiery bloodbath.  Murder, malicious mischief, and mayhem ensue as Clifton goes on a killing rampage.  Through it all, Clifton’s nonchalance about his hideous acts make this tale one you don’t want to read on a hot summer evening in the swing on your front porch.

Rickey Pittman brings the passion of his Christian schooling and upbringing into a tale wrought with horror.  With his first novel, Mr. Pittman shows us why he was added to the Louisiana Roster of Artists and won the Ernest Hemmingway Short Story Competition in 1998.   His vivid descriptions and believable characters, combined with the tales passed down from his parents, make “Red River Fever” a frightening roller coaster, with a lead man you’d rather kick than look at.

A must-buy for anyone that enjoys the darker side of history and the legends passed down from father to son, Red River Fever is a novel worth buying for your collection.

Review by B.D.

In Red River Fever, we meet Clifton Ray, a redneck Byronic anti-hero of the Red River Valley. At the beginning of the novel, he is the quintessential small town bad boy – swilling whiskey, fighting in bars, playing pranks, and chasing loose women at the local honky-tonk. The mood and dialogue in the novel is so authentic that it makes us feel as if we were leaning on the bar, observing Clifton Ray and his buddies.

But the Red River Valley, located in the Texoma Region of the country, is anything but quaint. Legend has it that the Valley has been plagued for ages by a supernatural force called by the locals, Red River Fever, an uncontrollable madness that can take possession of a man and drive him to violence and even murder.

There are omens and prophesies of evil throughout the story given by Native Americans, Fundamentalist Christians, and even those closest to Clifton Ray, as they sense the fever building. Clifton Ray, as well as a few other residents of the valley, begin to behave more cruelly and violently. Clifton Ray seems to morally descend from being a prankster, to sadistic, to almost demonic, seemingly possessed by this mythical Red River Fever. The novel is a suspenseful read, as we quickly turn each page, wondering if there will be redemption or destruction for the darkly fascinating Clifton Ray.

One of Rickey Pittman’s mottoes is a quote from Akira Kurosawa: “The role of the artist is to not look away.” *Red River Fever* never looks away. It is a vision of hell where evil is perfectly interpenetrated with ordinary life, while the good is superficial and eccentric. It is Dashiell Hammett’s *Red Harvest* reborn in the American South of the 1970s, a place where the lives of dogs and fish, and finally of men and women, have lost their intrinsic value. Where vitality has become a fever, a disease, and where love itself withers in the heat. Don’t be fooled by its localities of time and place. What Rickey is talking about is the condition of the American soul right now, not some faraway Gothic but what’s right in the mirror, if we dare to open our eyes and not look away–David Lenson, Professor, Comparative Literature, University of Massachusetts, Amherst.

Some haunting, graphic scenes. The characters really come to life. . . people just like that live in Hebert and Start. A powerful, frightening statement on living in the South.—-Angela Ford, Monroe, Louisiana.

We all know someone like Clifton, more serious about fun than work, but unlike the ones we know, Clifton seems to get meaner with each page of the book. . . Clifton Ray is verbal and mean as an old cur dog, and Pittman is very detailed and descriptive in his writing. I found the book an easy read, and Pittman has a way of communicating the feelings of the lowest gutter rat to the pain and suffering felt by the innocent victims . . .This is Rickey Pittman’s first novel, but I am sure not his last one.  Mickey McLean, Column, “The Edge of the Woods,” Bastrop Daily Enterprise.

The music in your language is wonderful.  Your use of alliteration, assonance, and consonance gives your words an incredible resonance.  Not many authors can do that without detracting from the story line or trying to cover up for the lack of a story line.  You worked it just right. You also managed to use slang and local dialect without sounding affected.  That is hard to do well; not many authors pull it off successfully.  You did.  The characters were very believable and life-like.  I especially enjoyed the way you pulled it all together at the end with the reference to the “Red River Valley” song.  . .  I like a book that makes me think.—Allison Diffey, Cleveland, MS.

A first novel is always a treat to read . . . I was moved by the descriptions which one can tell came directly from Pittman’s soul. For example, “Something about the house’s condition, like his own, saddened him.” Impressive writing.—Sharon Morrison, Librarian, Southeastern Oklahoma State University.

Red River Fever is very interesting. The characters and setting seem so real and intelligently thought out.  That Clifton Ray is a bad boy and all the women love him—reminded me a little bit of my daddy in his younger days. Pittman did an excellent job of capturing the essence of the woman-charming, cocky, good ole boy!  I was thinking, “Yeah, I’ll bet he can’t carry this one off,” because I know that character, but he surely did it, and did it well!” Should be made into a movie. It’s good!—Cyndi  Butler, Dallas, TX.

I just finished reading the book last night. It was great.  It was one of those books that you just can’t put down because you want to know right then and there what is going to happen to these people next. I can’t wait until your next one comes out. You have me hooked now.  Ursula Braxton, Houma, Louisiana.

Overall, the novel left me with somewhat of a haunting feeling. And I like that. It’s not a traditional Hollywood ending (thank you). It reflects the darkest capabilities of humans. They cannot be ignored. Time and time again they have emerged, proving their existence, whether people want to acknowledge them or not. The evils come to the surface. This novel just portrays a fictitious stimulus, almost personifying what many people cannot explain in everyday life. . . this novel inspired thought.-–Regina Phillips, Durant Democrat, Durant, OK.

Pittman has a great talent for making characters come to life. Honestly, I can see so many people I know in these characters.—-Judith McDaniel, Monroe, Louisiana.

Museum of South Texas History Rickey Pittman: “The Bard of the South” Award-winning storyteller set to perform musical show Nov. nike tn noir femme buy albion gold 15 The Museum of South Texas History (“MOSTHistory”), a museum chronicling the heritage of South Texas and Northeastern Mexico, invites the community to enjoy a one-of-a-kind, family-friendly Sunday Speaker Series event featuring Rickey Pittman, “The Bard of the South”, on Sunday, Nov. adidas superstar donna albion silver 15 at 2 p.m. adidas shoes air max pas cher albion gold The award-winning storyteller and folksinger will perform in the MOSTHistory Grand Lobby, sharing a variety of musical numbers from “Songs & Stories of the Rio Grande Valley” that include history and culture of the region. nike pas cher Pittman will also be reading from his latest publication, Rio Grande Valley ABC, and will be available to sign copies that can be purchased in the Museum Store. air jordan xx8 Air Max 2017 Rosso Uomo

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