Death Rattle

While the Mexicans’ preparations for the approaching Nativity was nothing new to Waits-by-the-Water, all of the decorations and traditional practices were strange and curious to Magpie, Flea, and Jackrabbit too. In those last few days before the Catholic population celebrated the birth of their Savior, the priests conducted a procession every morning, then again every afternoon. Children sang as they paraded through town, marching for the square and the cathedral, carrying boughs of pinon or cedar, some hoisting platforms where carved and painted effigies of the holy family sat in plain view of the throngs who crowded the placita. It reminded Scratch’s children of the Crows’ annual tobacco celebration, or the revelry at the return of a victorious war party.

How Titus loved to stand on the porch of Paddock’s store and witness the grand parade twice a day with his youngsters. Too, how he took so much fun and satisfaction in secretly buying the three of them and Waits little presents, sneaking into the shop’s back room to wrap up those gifts with colored paper Looks Far provided, tying them up with twine. But after all the building anticipation, the special day came and went so quickly—a day when the shops remained closed and the Paddocks slipped from the house early to attend an early mass.

“It’s helped me some,” Josiah admitted later that morning when his family returned to have breakfast and open their presents. “Not that I understand much of what the priests say in the masses—hell, I’ve learned Flathead and Mexican too, but the tongue them priests use I can’t savvy at all.”

“It helped being a Catholic like all of them, eh?” Bass asked. “Mathew Kinkead told me you’d taken the vows.”

“There’s some Americans in the village—a few anyway—say they don’t plan on sticking around down here for long anyway,” Paddock explained. “Just make some money and be gone back to the States. As for the rest of us, we’ve made a home here and plan on raising our families in Taos. I hope the Mexicans and them Pueblos look at us different now that we made ourselves a part of this place.”

“Besides, with having a Injun wife and half-breed young’uns,” Bass agreed, “you ought’n fit right in.”

Paddock grinned as Looks Far brought them steaming cups of Mexican cocoa. “My family’s home is here now. Mexico wasn’t bad to me for them years after you left. But now that this here is American territory—it suits me just fine. There was a few tense times when General Kearny pulled out for California, but things simmered down all right. We’ll just give it time and life’ll go right back to the way things were before the army marched in and throwed the Mexican government out.”

Six days later Looks Far Woman came home early in the afternoon, with Joshua and Naomi in tow, the three of them carrying long garlands they had constructed of gay paper flowers tied to thick strands of brown baling twine. In the main parlor of their small home, Looks Far and Waits-by-the-Water helped the youngsters hang the garlands while baking fragrant treats for the celebration planned for that night and into the following day.

“Just what are you having your friends come over to hurraw about?” Titus asked Looks Far.

She stood clutching one of the garlands for Joshua, who was up on a chair, hanging the strand in long loops over nails he had just hammered into the adobe bricks near the low roofbeams. Looks Far stared at him as if Bass had lost his mind. “Josiah wants everything to be right for you, Titus.”

“For me? Why all this fuss for me?”

Now she squinted her eyes at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Why—Josiah, he invited many of our American friends to come here—to help celebrate your birthday with us!”

“M-my birthday? I’ll be damned,” he exclaimed.

Looks Far glanced at Waits, finding the Crow woman smiling with great approval. Then she said to the old trapper, “You forgot your own birthday?”

“Can’t ’member the last time I took special notice of that day, no,” he answered.

From his perch on the chair, Joshua asked, “How old you gonna be, sir?”

“Well, now,” he delayed thoughtfully, staring at the floor, a bit baffled as to just where to start. Then he looked at Looks Far to inquire, “What year this gonna be—when it turns a new one at midnight?”

“Why … it will be 1847, Titus.”

“So lemme see,” he sighed, sinking onto the floor and holding his palms up, so he could begin counting.

Scratch had gone through folding down all his fingers twice when Looks Far came over to kneel before him.

“You want us to count the years for you?”

He beamed up at her, extremely grateful. “I’d be real ’bliged.”

“Joshua, come over here and help Mr. Bass figure out how old he’ll be tonight.”

Clambering down from the chair, the youth grabbed a thick hunk of chalk and a small slate board from a wide, wood shelf, then settled on the floor right in front of Titus and crossed his legs, mirroring the trapper. “All right. It’s gonna be 1847 at midnight tonight,” Joshua began, writing down those numbers on the slate. Then he looked up at the old man. “When were you born, Mr. Bass?”

“I told you afore, Joshua—I want you to call me Titus.”

“Yes, sir, Titus.”

Scratch cleared his throat. “I was born on the first day of 1794.”

Joshua noticeably rocked back in astonishment. “That’s a long time ago, Mr., er … Titus.”

“1794 was a long, long time ago—no argeement on that.”

Then he cocked his head to the side to watch how Joshua scratched out that year right below the first four numbers. After a line was drawn beneath them both, the youngster went to ciphering, arriving at one new number at a time—but, to Scratch’s surprise, Joshua held up his slate when he had only two numbers written below the line.

“You’ll turn fifty-three tonight.”

He swallowed at the mere weight of that figure. Then looked up at those gathered near, everyone staring directly at him as if waiting for him to react to the news. “Hell. I can’t ever ’member knowing a soul near as old as that. ’Cept for my grandpap, I durn well may be older’n anyone I ever knowed!”

Just past sundown they began to show up at the door—single men, and those with families too. They slipped off their heavy woolen coats, mufflers, and scarves, disposing of them and their winter caps in the corner of a small bedroom at the back of the house. Soon there were enough people crowded in the front parlor that some of the guests began to trickle over into other rooms of the Paddock residence.

“Hola, Sheriff!” Josiah called out to the man just coming in the door with his wife, a small boy, and a chilling gust of cold. Paddock grabbed Titus and Waits by their elbows as he had done several times before, escorting the two of them to greet every new guest.

Looks Far embraced the man, then helped him off with his coat before shuffling away for the kitchen once more, chatting with the sheriff’s wife as the two of them threaded their way through the gathering with the young child in tow.

“Josiah!” the new arrival cheered, holding out his hand. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Sheriff, I’d like you to meet my old, and dear friend—Titus Bass,” Paddock started the introductions.

“I’m Stephen Lee,” the sheriff declared. “And Josiah here’s told me a lot about your days together. Heard tell of you my own self more’n a time or two.”

That name sounded familiar, then he found the peg to hang it on as they shook hands. “Wasn’t you hooked up with Jim Beckwith for a time?”

“Threw in together to do some trading up at the Pueblo a few years back,” Lee explained. “Things didn’t turn out the way I figured they would so I sold out to Beckwith and come back down here.”

“So you was out here some time before giving the Pueblo a try?”

“I trapped more’n my share,” Lee admitted. “Ran with outfits working out of Taos afore I moved up to the Arkansas with Beckwith. After I sold out to Beckwith it seemed the natural thing to do was get on back down here to San Fernando. You see, close to twenty years ago when I first come to the village, I’d spotted a purty gal I just couldn’t take my eyes off. Ever since we was married, I been putting down some roots.”

Titus squeezed Waits against him and said, “Women have the knack of doing that to a man if you’re not careful!”

“You come in for the winter?” Lee asked as Josiah stepped back up with a clay cup for the sheriff.

“From the looks of it, we’re here till the weather fairs off enough, maybe come March,” Scratch explained. “Then we’re on the tramp for home.”

“Where’s home?”