“You’ve learned a lot, Maizie. Makes me proud to see it.”
“You let us win. I wish you hadn’t,” she said. Capp did not reply. Her words caught him by surprise. A sadness was brewing between them. Capp felt it. Did she know what he needed to tell her?
When they reached the quarry, they dismounted and tied the horses to a hitching post. The moon illuminated the limestone rock. It rendered the cold stone seemingly welcoming and warm; the shape of the castle rock punctuated the sky. Capp turned toward the spring. It was particularly loud tonight. Capp felt it was calling him to bring Maizie closer to its melodic song, its cheerful babbling. But instead, he took her by the hand and led her into the cave.
He removed a small matchbox from his pocket and handed it to Maizie. “Let’s build a fire in the pit. We need more light. There’s wood stacked over there by the entrance. They say Ol’ Del Henny used to come up here at night and build a campfire. See here how he picked at the stone floor to make a shallow pit. Some said he came here to dream of what could have been.”
“Who told you?”
“Dad and I met an old codger at a horse auction. He knew this property and Del Henny. Used to sell his moonshine to him. He said Del Henny had unbelievable stories to tell and told ’em best when he was feeling his liquor.”
Maizie smiled. “He must have been a storyteller like my mama.” Capp began building the fire. “A woman in Vicksburg said my mama was a Del Henny. Don’t know if it’s true.”
Holding an armload of wood, Capp looked at Maizie and smiled. “Sugar told me. She thought it was true. You could be proud to have a relative like him.” Capp was quiet for a moment and then decided to tell the rest of the story. “The old man told us that Del Henny loved a colored girl. She was goin’ to have his child.”
“I heard that too. There was a rumor he may have brought her with him.”
“Seems him being white and her being colored gave them problems,” said Capp. Maizie turned to look at him. She appeared to be listening but said nothing. Capp raised his eyebrows. He lifted his hand and put her hair behind her ears to see her face better. She closed her eyes. Capp was tempted to kiss her but remained still and thoughtful.
“Capp?”
She broke into his reverie and startled him. He forced himself away from her and went to put some dry kindling in the pit. Taking the matchbox from Maizie’s hand, he removed a matchstick and struck it on the box. The kindling lit and then crackled, the smoke rising through a natural flue in the top of the cave. As the kindling took hold, he added a few small branches and gave them time to ignite, the flame lighting the cave. Capp felt cheered by the fire. He noticed on the cave wall their large shadows standing stiffly, a space between Maizie and himself. He continued to eye the shadow shapes, the imposing silhouettes. Maizie’s silhouette was now reaching for his arm. She whispered, “Capp?” He quickly looked at her, away from the shadows on the wall. Her beauty struck him in that moment and he smiled.
“Come here Maizie, there is something I want you to see.” He walked her over to the back wall of the cave, where light flickered. “Look here. See the drawings.” She looked where Capp was pointing and saw carved and painted symbols. On the surface of the stone were birdlike shapes, human figures, circles and feathered lines. Maizie looked at the drawings and turned to Capp, “What are they?”
Capp smiled and took her hand. “They are ideas and maybe stories told by the Indians. Jeb used to tell us about them. You never seen ’em before?”
“No, only been up here a few times. Wonder how Jeb knew what they meant.” Maizie bent down and followed a crack in the rock that led to a vertical, narrow crevice. Nearly hidden from view were other marks on the wall.
“Capp, look here.” Capp bent down too and looked carefully at the new find, but the shadows were too deep. He ran to light a piece of kindling. Holding the makeshift torch, he returned to where Maizie crouched and the letters became clear.
“Why, that sure ain’t Indian. These are letters. Looks like the name Hattie,” said Capp.
“Wonder what it means.”
“Don’t know. This wall could tell us all kinds of things, if we knew what it all meant. It’s a shame we don’t.”
Maizie looked at the word again and noticed the care and time it must have taken to etch into the stone. Then, noticing a line stretching around the rock wall into an even darker recess, she and Capp explored further.
There on the wall in neat, precise letters were the words: “Once filled with love, a heart endures. BDH—1898.” Maizie ran her fingers over the letters, tears in her eyes. Her reaction filled Capp with a new sense of longing in this dark recess of the cave. He related to the words too, but seeing the initials of Buckus Del Henny was confirming. He grabbed her hand and the two walked backed to the fire pit. Capp threw the torch into the fire. Maizie sat on a flat rock and stared blankly into the jumping flames. “Hard for me to understand it all,” Maizie said. “I do believe Buckus added to the cave wall’s story.”
“Yes—it does appear so. We just don’t have all the story.” After moments of contemplative silence, Capp said abruptly: “You ever been swimming up here? Takes your breath away.
