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iii

Delphine Watkins was a quiet girl, not particularly pretty with an odd face, too wide of mouth with large teeth. I realize I'm describing her as a female version of Ross; I hadn't seen it before. Her parents weren't wealthy which meant they had no influence in the growing town or anywhere else. Actually, the Watkins basically lived hand to mouth with Dell's father taking odd jobs where and when he could. Her mother took in wash but since she had to undercut the two Chinese laundries, her customers were mainly cheap and also didn't want any "stinkin' Chinee" to touch their clothes. I don't really remember when Dell left school, she was there and then she wasn't; she was just another young girl of no particular interest to me. Later, I discovered she had left to help her mother wash, dry and press all the laundry and she later confessed she was amazed at all the lovely undergarments other women wore; she felt silly coveting pantalettes and petticoats, but she did. One day she hoped to wear such fine garments.

That year before I left for school, I started squiring 15-year-old Delphine, or Dell as I called her, to church Sundays. My father would stop the buckboard near the dirt street leading to the Watkin's house at its end, and I'd jump down and head to her house. Then she and I would walk together, her arm in mine. Her parents never attended church, her father saying God never helped him so he owed Him nothing in return. As for her mother, Dell said she worked so hard that Sunday, all she wanted was to rest; Dell worried about their souls. I admitted that if I wasn't trying to toe the line to appease my father, I wouldn't go either. She had looked at me oddly.

Dell had one dress for church, a green flowered print. It was always clean, starched and pressed with delicate lace about the high neck and edges of the sleeves. Her white, wrist-length gloves were pristine and she wore a small straw boater that showed some breakage about the edges, with a deep blue grosgrain ribbon tied about it. In the winter, she had a wool, hooded cape and kept her gloved hands in the pockets; the white cotton gloves were apparently the only ones she owned.

I took her to the socials and out for Sunday drives when I could get the buggy, having to first ask my father's permission. When I found a nice spot, we'd climb down and I'd spread out a plaid blanket for us to lay on and talk and kiss and sometimes, I'd have Hop Sing pack us a picnic basket Saturday night although usually something was missing by Sunday afternoon, Hoss being the culprit. I often wondered if the reason Dell's parents were so lenient when I delivered her home after dark was because they were secretly hoping I'd get Dell in the family way and would then feel compelled to marry her. If I was a cad and refused, well, Mr. Watkins owned a shotgun. But things never went that far between Dell and me.

Oh, we'd cling to one another in that adolescent yearning for something but not quite sure how to find it or even really what it was and even then, I knew there were consequences for every action. But I wanted to kiss her mouth and her long, slender neck. After all, Dell was female and within reach. A few times as I ran my hands over her small breasts and slipped my hands under her skirts, we almost went further, but I always pulled myself up short when she seemed inclined to open her thighs to me. I knew I didn't love Dell nor she, me. Well, if she did love me, she never said it and I certainly wasn't about to lie and declare undying affection for her. My mind was set on going away, not settling down with someone and raising a family, something she often discussed. And many a time, she suggested that since she came from poverty, I was hoping she was "loose." I would then have to convince her otherwise by retreating and keeping my hands off her slim body but I always thought she was a little disappointed in me.

Carl Reagan and I always had a competition between the two of us, a game of trying to steal girls away from one another; as I said, there weren't many girls available and we quickly went through them. Now I realize how cruel that was. Neither of us wanted the girl, just for the other to lose her. Carl made a half-hearted attempt to charm Dell away from me but for some reason, he abruptly quit. I don't think she really attracted him. I told him I was surprised he gave up so quickly but Carl said I could have her with his blessings—he'd spied someone else who stirred him but I think it was a lie. But Carl soon left town and headed out to Mexico to make his "fortune" and I didn't see him again for many years. But that's another story.

But what annoyed me about Dell was that she was constantly fussing over me. She would brush my hair off my forehead, dust off the shoulders of my jacket and pick off any lint, adjust its lapels and my shirt collar. Sometimes, she'd even retie my string tie. And if I coughed, she'd ask me if I felt well and for me to drink hot tea and honey when I returned home. I always resisted swatting her hands away as I would bothersome flies; it would only have hurt her feelings. But one time she even pulled out her hanky and bending down, wiped the dust off my boots before we entered church. I told her then to stop; I didn't need her ministrations or a "mother." I'll never forget the look on her face, like a kicked dog.

It was a Saturday night and Ross and I were playing gin rummy on his make-shift front porch. I'd told him there was no use in building a permanent one, as he'd only have to rip it out for a longer porch when he finished the whole house. Oh, I had plans for his house, a representation of my creativity and cleverness. And also, a testament to our friendship. So, we were playing and looking at his cards and not at me, Ross asked about church, that is, if I went.

"I have to," I said checking my cards and wondering if I should throw a deuce. "My pa demands it. Says I need a grounding in religion if I'm going to be away on my own. The devil's around every corner, you know, especially up in New England where all those witches were tried and executed by the upright, pious Puritans."

"Witches?"

"Yeah," I said, still considering my hand. "About two hundred years ago."

Ross mulled that over, then asked, "About church…mind if I go along with you and your family this comin' Sunday, you know, ride along."

I stopped and looked at him. His head was bowed examining his cards and he still refused to look at me. "Sure, you can come along. My pa'll think he's brought another one to God Almighty. Be there at 7:00, all spiffy and wear a tie. You'll need it in case you get so bored you want to hang yourself."

Ross laughed at that, smiled widely and put down his cards. "Gin."

"Sonovabitch!"

Ross showed early the next morning dressed in his best which is to say he looked as if he'd dug some garments from a ragbag. He had cleaned up nicely though, shaved, spit-shined his boots and brushed his hat. Hoss guffawed until I jabbed his ribs and Pa told Ross to climb in and invited him for Sunday dinner, that was if he didn't mind cold roast beef sandwiches and baked beans; that was all he could throw together as Sunday was a day for rest and Hop Sing was off. Ross gladly accepted and climbed into the buckboard. When we reached the street to the Watkins', Pa stopped the buckboard and I leapt out. Ross was confused.

"Where you goin', Adam?" he asked.

"He's gonna see his guuuurl," Joe teased. "He walks her to church like she's a dog on a leash."

"Shut up, Joe," I said.

"Now, that's enough," my father said, his frustration coming through.

"You gonna kiss 'er, Adam?" Hoss asked, grinning, and Joe made kissing noises. Usually, they said nothing when Pa let me out since Hoss was always asleep stretched out in the wagon bed and Joe was always whining, complaining about anything and everything, but today they had an audience so they showed their asses.

"I said, enough," my father repeated. "Quit! Now!" My brothers seem subdued until the buckboard pulled away and I looked back. Joe, staring at me, crossed his eyes, stuck his thumbs in his ears, waggled his fingers, and put out his tongue. I just headed down the way and found Delphine sitting on her porch, waiting for me. It was cool that morning and she had a shawl about her shoulders and once closer, I saw a few small moth holes, the way her wool cape was riddled with them. That she had tried to fix them by darning the holes only endeared her to me. As we walked to church, I told her a friend of mine, Ross Marquette would be there. She asked a few polite questions—how he and I had met and what made him a friend.

"I like him," I replied, "and trust him. That's all I ask of a friend."

"What is it you ask of me, Adam?"

Dell had me confused. With her large sad eyes focused on me, I felt uncomfortable. Suddenly I wished I had never started up with her. "I'm not asking anything of you."

"I mean, you're going away and you'll be gone a few years. Last night, my mother asked me if I was going to wait for you to return home, if you and I were going to marry. I didn't know what to say. I put her off with something silly because well, Adam, we haven't discussed it."

I stopped, dumbfounded. A few weeks earlier, my father had basically asked me the same thing, that is, was I serious about Delphine Watkins? Were the two of us making plans for the future? I'd said no, that she was only 15 and I had college ahead. Besides, I added, we weren't serious about each other at all. Dell and I were friends and that was it. But my father had looked at me oddly and then said, "As long as you both feel that way." And it was now obvious that Dell didn't feel the same way I did.

"Dell, I like you and we always…Dell, I don't expect you to wait for me because I may not even return to Nevada."

"Oh" she said. Dell paused and looked down at the ground. "I hadn't even considered that." Then she looked at me and forced a smile. "Of course, Adam. Of course."

The rest of the walk to church was silent and during the service, Dell sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap. I couldn't concentrate on the sermon, not that I usually did but I actually tried that morning. I didn't want to hurt Dell—I liked her, but she saw things differently than I did. Then suddenly, it occurred to me that perhaps she and Ross would like one another. He had land to buy to keep him there, and then, with Ross being as shy as he was, he'd never meet a girl on his own. So, after church, feeling magnanimous, I introduced Delphine to Ross. It seemed to me they had an immediate attraction. I felt a mix of relief and oddly enough, jealousy.

I think Ross' vulnerability struck something inside Dell. At last, here was someone whose clothes she could mend and for whom she could bake cookies and who desperately needed affection. Although I encouraged them, later telling Ross that I was glad he and Delphine liked each other, I found I was reluctant to let go. But I did. And I wasn't angry as I would have been had Carl Reagan won Dell away. After all, I had "given" Dell to Ross and now I was free of any ties to her. A few years later, I knew that had I wrangled Dell to lay with me, I would have stayed because I found out once I was away at school, that once you've known a woman, any woman, you get a taste for it and it seems that's all you want; other things fall by the wayside and every woman you see from then on becomes a possibility and you size each one up the way a horse breeder does a mare.

Anyway, a few days later, Ross wanted to ask Dell to the upcoming church social so after supper, I took him into town to show him the Watkin's place. Dell came out once I knocked, saying hello us and craning her neck to see Ross who shyly stood behind me. She had been working, probably washing dishes or maybe helping with laundry—it didn't matter-her sleeves rolled up, the neck of her dress unbuttoned a bit. She pulled off her apron and stepped out on the porch. I moved off a ways and Ross held his hat in his hands and stammered and told Delphine how pretty she looked. I watched her face and I knew; Delphine loved Ross. It shone from her face and for the next few weeks, the three of us sat in church, Delphine between us. There was no more leaping from the buckboard to walk Dell to church. Now it was Ross who rode to the Watkins every Sunday morning to squire Delphine to church. They were now a couple and I congratulated myself with the thought that I was going away in a few more weeks, free and clear. That is if my father felt I had become responsible enough.

Well, my father relented and I did go back east to college. I reveled in my freedom. My father wired money every month and I struggled to make it stretch. It helped that my grandfather invited me to dinner once a month and his housekeeper, Mrs. Cairn, was also a wonderful cook. She clucked over me, telling me I was far too thin, encouraging me to eat. About that, she was right. I lived on day-old doughnuts from a small bakery near the college where the slatternly cashier named Lurene, sold me a bag of a baker's dozen which often contained 15 or more, thanks to her generosity, for ten cents and every few days, I bought a slice of tough beef from one of the butchers to boil with a few onions. My roommate, Adrien Van Houten, had a wealthier father in Philadelphia, but not by much, and he often tossed in green beans and carrots from the greengrocer, and on occasion we would have a whole roasted chicken with small potatoes, courtesy of Mr. Van Houten's generosity. Nevertheless, I had dropped about ten pounds and if I hadn't worn suspenders, my trousers would've fallen to my hip bones.

During the meals at my grandfather's, he would eat sparingly, declaring late-night dyspepsia should he overindulge, a plague of the elderly, while I was served second and third helpings; I enjoyed Mrs. Cairn's cooking immensely and she would fawn over me as "The Captain's handsome grandson," and after the evening spent listening to my grandfather's stories of his adventures on the high seas and anecdotes about my father and a few touching memories of my mother, he would fall asleep in his chair. Mrs. Cairn, a wide-hipped , ruddy-complexioned woman, would then send me off with a bag of cookies or a small cake or any other sweet she baked up including divinity, a candy I had never before tasted. I was loathe to share that with Adrien but my better side won out and, as with every other treat, I gave him a few pieces. My selfish impulses with Adrien, made me think of Dell and wonder how she and Ross were doing. Were they married? The letters from home never mentioned anything but immediate family and I never specifically asked either.

As I said, I was invited to my grandfather Stoddard's about once a month. One chilly autumn night as I stood outside to head back to my small walk-up, I pulled my watch cap down about my ears and placing the bag of cookies on the porch step, I wrapped my scarf about my neck and tucked the ends down the front of my coat. Bending down to retrieve the bag, I noticed in the light from the window, what looked like fresh deer tracks. I knew there were deer in Massachusetts as there were deer, antelope, elk or moose everywhere across the country. But I found it odd and moved closer to the indentations in front of the window, as if the creature had been looking through the glass, watching us. A chill ran through me but it wasn't from the cold. During dinner I had stopped eating. My pulse hammered in my ears. I had looked at the window but all I saw in the glass was the reflection of the lamp on the table and items closest to it. But I knew something had been looking in, watching us. Now outside, I looked was a cloudy night, a precursor to snow, so I hurried on, feeling as if I was being followed—no, more like being tracked or pursued. I stopped and listened. Nothing but the wind soughing about me.

"Anyone there?" I called out. But there was no answer. I called myself a damn fool for being so easily spooked. After all, it was only a deer after all. But I was agitated and there was something I was trying to remember but couldn't…I hurried back home.

One winter evening my third year, while during dinner with my grandfather, a swirling snowstorm suddenly rose and my grandfather started relating his experiences with nor'easters. By the time dinner was over, the wind was howling about the eaves and Mrs. Cairn insisted I stay at least overnight if not longer depending on how things looked in the morning. She slept in what had been my mother's room but there was a small room next to the kitchen with a small cot that had once been used by kitchen help, and she teased that if I didn't mind sharing the space with a sack of potatoes and a bushel basket of onions, I was more than welcome, adding that the heat from the stove kept the room warm. I accepted and once she made up my bed with sheets and blankets and a down pillow, I quickly fell asleep in the narrow room. But a time later, I woke, sure the storm had worsened as it seemed the shutters of the kitchen window were dully thumping against the clapboard; perhaps, I thought, I could find a way to secure them but when I went into the kitchen, I could see even in the darkness that everything was secure. And yet the thumping continued. I looked up at the ceiling. Apparently, the kitchen was under my grandfather's bedroom and shaking my head, I realized the noise was Mrs. Cairn and my grandfather enjoying each other. Apparently, she was far more than merely his housekeeper and it was all I could do in the morning to meet her eye as she poured me coffee and gave me a plate of hot sweet rolls, all the while telling me "Captain Stoddard is catching up on his sleep; he worries so about storms and the damage they do that he couldn't easily sleep. But did you sleep well, my boy?" I wasn't one to begrudge the old sea dog his comforts nor Mrs. Cairn; no matter how old a person becomes, the need for human warmth and companionship endures, perhaps even becomes greater. So, I smiled and said I passed the night snug and warm.

But it wasn't only Captain Stoddard who enjoyed a woman's company. I had finally "known" a woman too, that is, biblically speaking. The cashier at the bakery with the sly eyes, full mouth and whose dark hair never quite stayed pinned, made it clear that if I'd meet her in the alleyway in an hour, she'd make it worth my time and promised she'd give me a treat better than any doughnut. I did meet her and as I leaned against the alleyway's brick wall, she kneeled before me and I had never experienced such sensations. After that first time, we'd meet every few days at her small room and somehow, knowing there'd soon be another time between her plump thighs, well, it became easier to focus on my studies and I quickly earned a reputation as a quick and intelligent student whose treatises and theses were the finest in the class. And after a while, I thought no more about those I left behind in Nevada, enjoying my freedom from family and friends and the tug of home.

And in the ensuing years, I fell in love a few times, fell out of love but nothing lasting, at least not on my side. After all, there was always Lurene who was always eager to set up an assignation and she wanted nothing more from me than the physical and that suited me just fine.

But the last few months I was back east, my sleep was often disturbed. One night I woke, panicked. Ross' story of the rolling head had obviously stayed with me, simmering within my consciousness because I dreamt I was sleeping on the Nevada ground and a head came rolling toward me, it's jaws making clacking sounds, opening and closing the way the marionettes' jaws had in a puppet show I had seen as a child. In the dream, I tried to get away from the ravenous jaws but I was stuck in place, my blankets entrapping me, my terror rising. And as the head rolled closer, I saw it was Delphine; that was the worst horror of all. She kept clacking her mouth lined with dagger-like teeth, desperately trying to bite a huge hunk out of me. I woke with a gasp, sitting up and looking about the room. Adrien was still asleep in his bed and although the window was letting in the cool spring night air, I was drenched with sweat and couldn't fall back asleep but lay haunted the rest of the night.

And as the time to leave school drew closer, I found my longing for the magnificence of the Sierras and the lure of Lake Tahoe filled my thoughts. I yearned for home, for the Ponderosa, and as soon as I received my diploma and my engineering certificate, I would tell my father who promised his attendance at the ceremony, that I was returning with him. I decided to turn down the offers of an architectural apprenticeship; there was much I could build out west and wondered about Ross' house, if he had continued on it.

My grandfather also seemed pleased to hear I was returning home when I told him over our last dinner, extending an invitation to attend my graduation and, of course, Mrs. Cairn who became weepy as I left; she kissed my cheek and told me what a lovely young man I was and that she would miss me and that despite my grandfather's seeming lack of emotion, he too would greatly miss me.

Unfortunately, my father couldn't make the trip across country due to a flare of lumbago; he sent a wire and although chary of words, I felt he was truly regretful. But he closed with hoping I returned soon and that he would be well enough to meet me at the depot.

The graduation ceremony was solemn and decorous with many speakers and I was relieved when it was over. My grandfather, leaning on his cane and Mrs. Cairn who had both come to see me graduate wearing their best, handed me a wrapped gift, obviously a book. Mrs. Cairn gave me a box of cookies tied with kitchen twine.

"Now, boy," my grandfather said pointing to the gift, "you open that on the way home; hopefully, it will help make the time more pleasant and prevent others from chewing off your ear with their problems and maladies." We shook hands and Mrs. Cairn kissed me again and I was free. My carpetbag and portmanteau were packed, I had said goodbye to everyone, including Lurene after a long, slow night with her. Adrien and I had even said goodbye and we managed not to become maudlin; he was staying with his parents at the hotel that night as they were leaving on an early train. Mine would pull out two hours later than his, so I looked forward to a good sleep. But it was denied me. I dreamt of the mine with the petroglyphs carved into the rockface and the images moved and swirled and the odd creature with the woman's breasts moved off the rock and stood before me. It was a captivating woman, naked from the waist up, and with fur covered hips and legs in the manner of the mythical faun, ending in cloven deer hooves, but her eyes were slanted and evil—not wide and guileless as an antelope's or deer's usually are. And as she moved threateningly toward me, another creature, a shapeshifter oozed away from the rock and gaining form and substance, turned into a hulking, hairy creature that dropped to all fours, its curled lips exposing fangs. But the Elk Man also stepped out, it's antlers multi-pronged, the heavy fur ruff about its neck and running in a V down its chest to its genitalia which hung heavily between its legs. Its eyes were ringed with black and it exuded the stench of rotted flesh. As they all both approached me, fear closed my throat. I turned to run but of course, they were on my heels and looking back, I saw more and more of the drawings had pulled away from their stone prison. The serpent was slithering from the rock and also following me, its tongue flickering about; I was being pursued by mystical creatures from another dimension and felt I would never escape.

It took two cups of black coffee, quite a few of Mrs. Cairn's cookies and two of the cigarettes Adrien had left behind before I felt removed enough from my dream to settle myself. I decided I'd just wait out sunrise. That would hopefully chase all the boogeymen away.