By the time Corissa was thirty-five, she was what healthy people call a pariah, but because of society's lacking of healthy people, most were blind to Corissa's bent nature. At fifteen she ran away from home. She was tired of taking care of her sick mother, her brothers and sisters, and especially the unwanted special attention of her needy father, whom she loved and hated.
Pain and truth were her enemy, and she ran to anything, or anyone that might give her comfort from the cold she felt inside. Her favorite relief, her friend, her true lover that had always worked until she was so close to death was crack cocaine. Being young, exceptionally bright and beautiful helped her survive for many years, but the drugs had begun to take their toll. If there is a God, he appointed an army and fleet of angels to watch over Corissa Kickking, or maybe it was Satan himself who made sure Corissa always escaped death. There are those who enjoy watching things suffer, are there not? Call it schadenfreude, or "whatever" as she would say. She feared love like she feared pain and the dark, most of all she feared being alone. Her energy and smile were contagious to anyone within her grasp, and she honed her skills of using Heart until they were razor sharp. The old man knew all this and loved her anyway. He didn't mind being the fool, just to hold her close made him happy.
Nathniel knew the price a stormy voyage with Corissa would cost him, he just didn't know how much. Many times he would ask himself if he would pay the price again if he knew the outcome would be the same. He always answered, yes! Wild things have a fascination to those who live in society's self-made cages. Because of her, he had walked through a door most care, or know nothing about. Heart hated the pain, but loved the truth even more. Corissa Kickking had been a touchstone to himself.
Corissa had fled to the cities to dance with the dead without love. Nathaniel Levee Heart could not waltz with goblins. That was one dance he would never do, so he stayed put, waiting. He believed that somehow she would find a way to heal the wounds she had no names for. As long as the sun would rise in the east, and as foolish as he may have looked to others, Nathaniel danced a prayer of healing for all the Corissas in the world.
The creek was dry. The winter's snow-pack was thin and so the mountain run-off into April Creek had trickled to a stop in late June. By July the Spring grasses were dry and brittle, the only green to be seen in fields, meadows, and open areas of the highlands were tenacious weeds. Yellow cactus bloomed on the high hot western hillsides as they have since the glacial epoch. Ribbons of unseen sweetness drifted and swirled from waist-high wild rose thickets. Bees and other insects hummed while doing their job, only slowly as if their energy had been sucked dry like the dirt in April Creek. By August the forests and campgrounds were beginning to close to loggers and campers alike. Burn bans were put into effect and strictly enforced. Long time residents and people who worked for the local Ranger District, and the County Sheriffs Department feared it was only a matter of time before a spark would set the tinderbox of Ferry County ablaze. There were fires in the Okanogan, Wenatchee, and Chelan areas, but the dry grasses of the highlands and the surrounding forests lay shimmering in the Summer's heat as if in some state of grace, and in fact they were.
On the six-mile drive to the grocery story in Republic, Heart noted the huge road-kill skunk that he had passed several times that week kept mysteriously changing lanes from one side of the road to the other, and it was getting smaller. He rolled up the windows even though the dogs disagreed and thought the offensive obnoxious odor tantalizing.
Only one car passed him as he slowed the truck at the twenty-five-mile-an-hour sign on the out skirts of town. Being such a small out-of-the-way place, Republic was hard on speeders. Five miles over the speed limit could get you a hundred-and-one dollar ticket. Nathaniel Heart wasn't going anywhere fast. It was a beautiful morning.
Curving around the descending two-lane road into town, he slowed again as he passed the small county hospital down off to his left. On his right, two mule deer were mindless of any road traffic as they enjoyed the fruits of several apple trees growing along the hillside's road edge. The older buck stood on his hind legs dancing in stilted steps, his massive antler rack barely seen through the gray-green foliage of the heavily weighted lower branches. Apples hung like bobbles on an over decorated Christmas tree. A young forked horn lay in the shade chewing it's cud, it's large eyes met the old mans. "Ho mitakuye oyasin, kola(to all my relations, friend), Nat whispered as he passed them. In Republic most lawn ornaments are real. Some gardeners without tall fences call them "yard rats", others think of the deer as symbols of peace and serenity.
At the stop sign he turned left, then made another left onto the dirt and gravel parking lot of the Post Office. Karen Krisp's dusty, rut-weary red work truck was just backing out, as he maneuvered between two shiny Ford pickup trucks, one a metallic silver, and the other brushed gold. He returned her smile. She was one of the few people whose smile had lifted him up on those days when he felt so down. His first year in the small town had been a rough one. Strangers stayed strangers, Heart had been told many locals were leery until they felt secure an outsider could endure the cold winter months. "Why wast time on anyone not tough enough to stay?" Others said, "Dumb enough to stay" in a good-natured raillery. Heart had kept to himself in forced seclusion and endured the cold, his sorrow, and his loneliness. It isn't very pretty what a town without pity can do to a lonely soul. Although they didn't speak, Karen's bright eyes and generous smiles had given him strength. The gift of kindness is no small thing; it is more precious than silver and gold.
Finding his mailbox empty except for a stack of bills, Heart drove the two blocks to Anderson's grocery store, the dogs jutting their heads out the half-rolled-up window to bark at everything and nothing in particular.
It must be Thursday." he told the dogs.Along the less than quarter mile strip of main street, older tried and true four-wheel-drive trucks and cars were parked intermittently between fancy new vacation rigs. People that lived in the surrounding mountains, many of whom lived without running water, indoor plumbing, or electric, came into town on Thursdays. They would fill their water barrels, gas cans, make phones, visit the food bank, the grocery store, library, et cetera. On the first of the month, even more people came into town.
For as smart as Nathaniel thought himself, some things he would never understand, but he was trying to the best of his ability. He knew somethings must not be spoken, for to do so invites misinterpretation. Is not language abstract, filtered through experience and understanding? It's as if words were filtered through a portcullis, never fully open or closed. Nathaniel's thoughts diverged from many directions."Focus Natty Boy, focus." It had been to many days since he had spoken to anyone other than his dogs. Pulling into Anderson's parking lot he waited a moment as a junky looking four-wheel-drive station backed out. It's windows so covered with dirt road mud and dust it, was hard to see the elderly woman who was driving. She wore a dirty red bandanna. Her long grey hair braid hung over her shoulder like a Mexican bandoleer. She was one of the proud fighters that the government system could not break. Her tight jaw and wrinkled face told of her hard life.
Closing his truck door, he patted the dogs saying, "Stay". Turning around abruptly, he bumped into Clovis Waters, almost knocking a bag of grocery out of the eighty-year-old's hands.
"Sorry Clovis."
"No harm done Natt." Mr. Water's blue eyes drilled into Heart. "Don't see you in town much lately." The old man opened his beat-up truck door, depositing the partly torn bag on the front seat then he turned to chat.
"I can see you've already done a days work." Heart gestured with an upward nod of this chin to the front of Clovis's overalls.
"Been working on my son's front-end-loader since sunup." A big grin spread across the thin man's face. Heart felt guilty about feeling so old. Mr. Waters had thirty years on him and was twice as active.
"I can tell you fixed it."
"A person has to take their time and do things right. My son is smart and strong. I'm a little slower, can't do the bull-work like I use to, but I've got experience on my side...know how. Ya know?" Clovis seemed to stand a little taller. The tan creases in his face made his blue eyes all the brighter. Heart could see the old man was lean with muscle, not the type to indulge in idleness. Heart told himself walking the dogs in the evening and reading every book he could get his hands on, wasn't going to eliminate his gut.
"What I want to know is...how do you stay so young?" Clovis lifted his dirt and oiled stained plastic hat off with one hand, ran his fingers through his colourless short hair, stopping at the back of head for a short scratch. He looked real serious, smiled and said, "I've got a frisky wife...sixty years of experience, ya know?"
Nathaniel chuckled, sucked in his gut and came back with, "Guess I don't Clovis, been married four times." Clovis returned his hat to his head and snugged it in place with the brim while keeping his eyes on Nathaniel.
"Well Nathaniel, that why it's called a reee-lationship..." the old man said with a smile.
"What's the cowboy saying...Women are as worthless as tit's on a boar hog." A gaunt man stepped between the two trucks and stood alongside Clovis facing Natheniel. His eyes were glued to Heart's silver rodeo belt buckle. The stranger had a reddish hue, as if he were over exposed to the sun, or had a drinking habit.
Natheniel was incensed by the crude remark. he could feel his anger rising. Mr. Water's hand patted Natheniel's arm as he said, "Natheniel Heart, this is my son's friend, Mr. Deacon. Mr. Deacon lives with his son just about the top of April Creek, out Curlew way, not far past your place."
Nathaniel expended his hand expecting a clammy, cold fish handshake. He was surprised...Deacon's handshake was warn and strong. Everyone ignored the crass comment.
"Pleasure to meet you Mr. Heart...I'm driving to Wenatchee this morning Clovis, can I pick up anything for you?"
"Getting a late start aren't you?"
"A little...better late than never huh?" Deacon's open Hawaiian shirt and flip-flop sandals seemed a little fleury in the frontier town. A vintage nineteen fifties Hawaiian silk shirt sticks out even in New York, or Hollywood. Republic's unique cast of characters and their diversity seemed unending. The kind of place where Grizzly Adams meets Garbo, marrys and raises a brood of Marks Brothers. Both dogs were vigorously trying to get their heads out the front seat window of the truck. Fearing a ruckus between them, he told the big dog to get in the back seat.
"Say Clovis, where's all that smoke coming from? Look over there, it's getting worse."Heart himself wondered about the forest fires and all the smoke. The greyness and smell of smoke hung over the small town like a big city's smog. Not watching TV, or listening to the radio, he gleaned only bits and pieces of information about what was happening in the area.
"All that is coming from the Tripod and Spur Peak fires near Winthrop." Clovis said. "It's a bad one for sure. Don't know how many acres involved, nowhere near being contained. It's burning in heavy ground fuels and beetle-kill lodge pole pines. There's also the Flick Creek fire in Northern Cascades National Park, but that's a small one". We've been lucky here so far."
"My place is dry. It's kind of scary not having a well. I was meaning to put one in this Summer, butt..." Clovis interrupted Deacon saying, "It ain't to late kiddo." Deacon stood with a blank stare on this freckled face as if the old mans words had rang a bell.
"I'll be seeing you...I need to get my groceries and get back to my trailer. It will be hotter than the hubs of hell without the air conditioner on."
Leaving Clovis and Deacon to continue their conversation, Heart walked into the busy store.All five checkout counters had lines of people waiting. It looked like a holiday weekend...maybe it was, Nathaniel didn't pay to much attention to calenders either. He found the few things he needed and stepped into the shortest line. On the magazine rack the headline of the local paper read, "Big Cougar Chases Mule Deer Up Main Street." The couple ahead of him was discussing the smoke and ash that fell durning the night. With a hint of fear in their voices, they were wondering if it could get worse.
With so many people crowded into the store, all of them seemed to be talking about the surrounding fires. Nathaniel felt closed in, he realized the small group of longtime residences were trying to lesson their fear by badmouthing tourist vacationing in the area, even people who had lived in the county for a number of years were subject to finger pointing. "All it takes is a careless idiot." one said. That started a torrid of complaints from the small group standing by the double glass doors. "Bad enough the coasties can buy property at outrageous inflated prices, sending our taxes soaring so we can hardly afford to live here ourselves. They move up here with their high-minded ways wanting to change everything. They want a Wall Mart...they want a Mickey D's. All it takes is one of those idiots, and they'll change everything all right." One of the others spoke up, "They have no common sense, they don't know what a forest fire under these conditions can do. They'll just pack up and go some place else. Where in the hell are we going to go? I even heard the city council is thinking of letting off-road vehicles access through town. The noise of those damn things will drive the older folks batty.Heart waited as the young short haired blond in bluejeans and a "Go Tigers" T-shirt packed his groceries, and handed him a few coins back in change. Her blue eyes darted back to the cash register, not looking at the three verbose locals who seemed not to notice the long line of heavy-wallet vacationers with full shopping carts behind them. Heart scooped up his two bags and quickly headed for the door.The parking lot was full with a colourful mixture of new and used cars, trucks, and a half dozen RV rigs. They represented just how many new people were in town, which was good in one way. In the Summer months and during hunting season, out-of-town money kept many of the small businesses solvent through the slower months of winter. Nathaniel Heart strolled casually to his truck, nodding hello to several people. Lowering the tailgate, he opened the lid of a large metal cooler then lowered his two grocery bags inside to keep cool.
Strong unbroken wings beat to raw red blood, desire,
