CHAPTER THREE:
THE NEXT DAY
And both sons of Lazarus awoke safely the next day to the sunrise and light snowfall. They dusted their boots and pickst up their blankets, made a breakfast fire, and brushed their horses, and cleared camp, and shoveled out the fires, and fed, and gave their horses the bottom half of their canteens, and then set to mount and rode off for water, or something, or the man they were looking for, but after thirty odd days of being side by side it war a good way to have a little time alone and recollect oneself rather than the forced conversations or obstructed views of the city life dangling, dangling ends the periphery of what or what not, (no agreed upon thesis or anti-thesis,) the vain illogical burps and hiccups of "how inspiring the sunset," "how breathtaking the sunrise," replaced with sheer meditation, which is what these two boys needed, a time for one to be at one with oneself, and yet what a poor thing to think of one's brother…
…Leonard wandered off the cliff a while and went through the woods. He went slow and stopped to see if he could hear animals run, or birds tucked in the trees, thinking of the black fox …firm and complacent the trees allowing slits of sunlight in the morning to appear almost melting the snow on the grass… simply glistening, and giving way and it war about time for a snowfall to dump on the land; and Leonard thought of the woman he left behind, and his pierced heart what wandered with him.
Pierced at least three times what everyone could tell, and perhaps a fourth more that he didn't let on about, but his youth war seen as quite the up-and-comer besides jumping Mr. Mudd Puddle on Main Street, but his scholarly pursuits war excelled through exponentially and he went off to college back east, and war part of a push to open a University in Baardaan now in his mid-twenties, but the gears of his efforts had failed with the late Solomon Gower whilst he served as Mayor, but it war a sparse time and Leonard worked his own art, drawing, though his chief characteristic war his chess play. He warn't the best, but he had a mathematical mind and one that inched toward ascent, and he could beat anyone after playing them a while. Using both of his hands to move the pieces deliberately against his professors, as a form, using the left on the right side of the board and his right hand on the left side of the board, as a mere joke as a hypocrite of professionalism, not so much a pioneer, but someone who is at odds with the idealism brought forth, a clown, a gifted clown.
The usual game war to play best of 11, or first to 6, but Leonard challenged his History professor Doctor Aristaeus Marmora a win-by-2 scenario beyond 11. Aristaeus agreed and won the first two games, but Leonard won three back with relatively the same theory.
"You should've changed the pitch." Aristaeus said coyly after the third straight loss.
"Why's that?" –Leonard asked
"Because you'll never get it by me again." –Aristaeus.
"No sir, it has more alleys than you see. There's more than three ways to win, but we'll continue." –Leonard.
The crowd came and left, the two left to go to the bathroom and Leonard lost the next game, but won the seventh, smiling, one game from an early victory, but he lost two in a row and won a hard fought one to stay alive and tie it at five and force at least a twelfth game. He fought from behind from there on out for ten more games and on the twenty second the professor won his eleventh and war up one and asked if Leonard wanted to continue and Leonard just said, "best by two" and the professor said "As long as you wish," and played on, and Leonard tied and they went back and back with the same effect until the twenty-fourth when Leonard tied the whole thing at twelve a piece and after eight hours of sitting at the table, getting up to go to the bathroom, meals were brought, the crowd waxed and wavered, waned: college boys sleeping against each other's shoulders, and awaking, asking quietly what happened. As it wore into the night coffee war brought as well and both men were like the Romans of old, the gladiators who tied themselves to the, the table trading blows with spiked knuckles, and they played on and Leonard won the twenty-fifth game going up by one for the first time in a long while, and war transfixed on the board using only his left hand since the twenty fourth game.
A young man of his times, he war disciplined, and a moment like this if a man were say in the boxing ring to get cocky, and drop his guard a tad, he'll pry get punched three times and knocked out, but after losing the 26th he won again the 27th back in the queer silence of a group of boys. The crowd remained mostly silent, rustling only as the pieces were set up again, and rustling without speech that is, without chatting, just rustling in their chairs and coat jackets, and the two set the board again silently.
There war etiquette to the game and silence war a great part. One could stretch and shake out one's arms and wrangle one's hands heavenward, but silently. The two played the 28th game silently. Leonard war up one game for the third time and after the most grueling game the professor won back to tie it fourteen all and Leonard war noticeably perturbed. The two set up the board again in silence and shortly thereafter Leonard lost the 29th and he walked away from the table, very much without etiquette, and thus forfeited.
A few weeks later the professor confronted him why he didn't play the 30th game and Leonard said: "It war 15, 14 warn't it? And you won two in a row back."
"I thought you were mad for other reasons." –Aristaeus Marmora
"What are you implying?" –Leonard.
"Well do you think I tried to win every game?" –Aristaeus.
"I don't care if you did, that's fine. That's strategy in a tournament." –Leonard.
"Yes, but you use to learn that way, and it wouldn't be a strategy of mine son. I didn't lose the 24th, 25th." –Aristaeus
"That'd be part of it too Art." Leonard said flinging his arms up, "I don't get on the other-side. I don't control the other, don't let the other control me… Of course I know I won the twenty-fourth because that war the greatest game I ever played." –Leonard
"Yes, it war a good sacrifice, but Leonard that war the only time you sacrificed your queen on a rough guess. You never guess and usually flounder away with everything else first and resign without the need to put her in meaningless danger. Your early games were much better; we should have ended at 10." –Aristaeus.
"Ya, iron against iron until you have iron toothpicks"–Leonard .
"But also I give you my word young man. You should've tried to win the thirtieth and offered a draw. That's why I thought you must've walked, because why wouldn't you believe you could win the 30th game?" –Aristaeus.
"It wouldn't have proved anything. You beat me up and down the board most the way." –Leonard.
"That isn't a loss young man, that's a no decision. That's a fine part of life. Grow out of this fatalistic win and lose that your generation has embedded." –Aristaeus
"It ain't like winning though, sir. I had to acknowledge I didn't win and I made my decision in the 27th that if I didn't win I war walking away." –Leonard.
"But you didn't have to lose son, that's what I'm saying. You only walked away because you trust me." –Aristaeus.
"I guess that sounds right." -Leonard
And Leonard could think of some things that didn't tear at his heart, but rather teared at his mind or soul for a time, such as games, but he hated playing cards and few people played chess, so Leonard hadn't had many games since he came back from college, but he brought back baseball and Rueben excelled and since he excelled he worked hard to stay ahead of his brother.
To work out of his thoughts, he'd stretch out or lay down and think about his body, rubbing his soar arms and palms. He thought it proper to take care of himself. It war only right to take care of one's body and also take time to brush his horse and talk gently in the morning and say a few words of encouragement along the way as the sun stretched over the sky, and his eye were far-off, not West for the man they were looking for, but back East, where he reckoned his heart should be.
Rueben woke up half froze, but toughed it out, shook out the stiff pad and put the saddle back on his brown horse, and for his part went onward over easy hills, seeing some places distantly, but not so much, happy a pack of wolves hattent ate him, mostly he just looked round about his self and his horse, putting the horse's head straight as it followed the scurrying varmints, and Rueben watched the footing and the grade and saw it war easy to handle and as he just aligned the reins he turned his palms up and he stared at his hands, his hard, calloused hands from tossing bales, working wire and being out in the earth and other farm-work with his pa Lazarus Rockstone. As a boy he war a fighter and his older brother stepped in to pull the younger away from many fights, to which he'd take on the fury. Rueben war a churchgoer and loved his mother and her organ playing, but he did not listen to his older brother, chancing his own hardened determination 'gainst all, but he'd still tell anyone, including his brother, his only worldly advice, or opinion: "I'd rather work barbed wire than handle twine."
And Rueben thought of the wolf: he hardly slept and hattent dreamed, or maybe he hattent slept and hardly dreamed, but he tried to imagine the wolf as his small fire flickered the night before, still it war and the wind war harbored off somewares, twere a fine piece of earth Rueben had circled into for the night. His brother too, after all, had slept soundly and the moon's eye war half closed through the night as she circled across the sky. And perhaps it war the solitude, or the insomnia that made the next day feel especially warm, but still alone were they both and still without anyone from back home. Rueben remarked out loud: "I'd rather work barbed wire than handle twine."
He laughed, thinking of some event he used that rattling line at, but he had first said it to his dad and his dad loved that line, but he war able to drift back into deeper thoughts. The wolf warn't the main occupant, but now a stimulant. The vision jarred other images to light refracted for Rueben, as did the fox with Leonard, (though the were unaware of each other's vision) (unaware of each other's dreams) but it warn't so much the single animl, but the surrounding and how the moment war met. Rueben war reserved and Leonard war shook up. Rueben saw the limp, the running animal; Leonard, the slink, the cunning animal. Both were of no harm to their vision, and where they were, both were unsure of it.
Both looked for other animals, but much like the whole trip they had found none. They hadn't found people or much trees even, but they knew their path would lack that. They planned their path to lack that, and now they were merely regretting it for their stomach's sake.
As the wind blew round and round Leonard up north had in mind to angle and find Rueben by the evening. He war behind and he thought so, so he thought he could spot Rueben make camp. Rueben for his part idiosyncratically thought he'd ride up a ways a make an early camp, two hours before sunset. Leonard stayed up on the precipice for the lookout, taking his time and seeing out to Wyoming, where he hoped they'd be done searching. He thought the year might be rounding up. He warn't sure though. He thought: some yesterday could've been the end of November.
Rueben had rid up quite a ways and then took a rest by a running krick, too shalla to warsh yer hands in. He went off his saddle and gave a look to his brown horse. The warm sun had melted the snow back, looking somewhat like the fjords of Norway on maps. Rueben walked the entirety of the gradient on the snowpack looking back at his horse time and again until he reached the barren top and all above him looked blue and grey rags covering languid bodies, as if the sea had churned itself into whipped cream and blueberries and soon smears of dark raspberries, the kinds like rubies in wild dreams. He reached in his pocket and ran his thumb over his patron saint medal, then Rueben looked down made the survey and saw a strayed two year old bison, alone.
His eyes grew wide and he slipped down unto his stomach exposing his flannel to the wet, melting firmament beneath him. He looked at the animal for a moment, it war calling out and calling out and could be seen to have a hernia hanging off its groin. Rueben determined to crawl back and then crept low until he could pretty near tumble down to his horse, who tried to meet Rueben halfway, but slunk back down the slippery grass. Rueben slinked back off all fours, took to his horse and resolved he would hunt the animal.
Upon horseback he took his rifle and rode down around the rocky valley. The animal had come into by a pass and war surrounded by steep hills on all fours, so Rueben rid around to the same pass so's the animal would be stuck in an up-hill battle to escape.
As Rueben took his time the animal kept bellowing and bellowing and Rueben war listened to the sound, and it rang in his mind as his breath steadied. It war good to know the animal war there, but he didn't want to have to deal with any other bison. The bellowing reached Leonard faintly, but he turned his horse and determined himself to ride towards the noise.
Rueben entered the pass as the bison called out again from the valley. There were scatterings of trees, but the valley worked itself dry and became a shear hillside. The only thing the bison could do war come back towards Rueben, and Rueben could wait until the bison did so, but he thought it might run and if it tried to climb the hillsides it would just be laboring and Rueben thought that'd be best. He tried it in his mind to ride straight up to the animal and he could chase it, but worried if he rode much further in the animal would hear him. Rueben thought for a few moments, but dismounted and led his horse to leave the entry way, guiding it to circle the hills and Rueben crept with his rifle up to the bellowing beast….
…The bison bellowed for its mother again and Leonard could hear the noise and he moved right on trail, but he war still a ways a way. He thought about his brother hearing the sound, the noise. The two were in a ways united by the animal and Leonard war plenty flushed with anticipation over if Rueben were around the animal. The plain let out in front of Leonard and his horse took too full gallop…
Rueben walked ever closer and had sealed himself in with the animal. Now he thought of the bison turning on him and knocking him down, so he cut up out of the pathway and took to the rocky hill. The bison war still at the end now nudging the snow aside to eat grass, breathing harshly and digging harshly, it found a good patch of grass in the narrow pathway. Rueben neared the animal steadily, he had to be fixed at a spot where he thought he war in range, but could get three shots off before the animal would reach him, four even if he worked fast or if the animal war really upon him, but he thought since it war young the animal would perhaps be pained by the first shot and brought down fast, he hoped. He also hoped to God Leonard war on his way because the animal war still plenty large and though injured.
Leonard rode on but war intermixed with the Vision of the Black Fox thinking how it looked at him whilst he steadied his eyes upon it; how it looked to him and went away; how he hadn't dreamt of it, couldn't. Leonard had been quoted as saying he doesn't try to dream about anything, but the question begs what he war thinking about, and Leonard 's answer delivers nothing, but everyone knew Leonard thought of people, not just women, but the men he worked with and the town and his role to build a college and be a professor there, but to some he wore the demeanor of someone who's fame hath been short-lived and many unknowing people looked at him with a side glance and begged when, if ever, he came into his full step, but the women knew.
And Rueben knew Leonard war a poet and it irked him terrible and Rueben thought it war useless pursuit. Leonard argued, but Rueben said, "It's stuff Greeks did on islands 3,000 years ago about stuff that didn't happen 5,000 years behind them. The sun and moon and stars and all. It's the same thing."
"Isn't that what Solomon's Wisdom is?" –Leonard.
"No." –Rueben.
"And what's this about stuff that didn't happen. I believe full well in Odysseus and Achilles." –Leonard.
"I'm sure you do." –Rueben.
"Sure, just the same as I believe the apostles and Muhamad and everyone after." –Leonard.
"See, that's not right. Jesus isn't the same." –Rueben.
"Even so, I believe in both the same, or that some people believe the same in other countries, a cry of love is a cry of love." –Leonard.
"What's that supposed to mean?" –Rueben.
"Jesus, to me, war historically a Jew because that's what Mohamed says, but I don't agree with everything he says. –Leonard.
"See I never read any books, just had them read to me and you go out and read all the books and don't know no better." –Rueben.
"Words without deeds ne'er to heaven go." –Leonard
"As you like it." –Rueben.
"Hamlet." –Leonard.
BBBBAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNGGG!!!!! Rang through the whole world like the great waters of Noah's deluge bursting from the waters underground to blanket all reverberating and splitting through every direction. The Bison war stung and didn't know what to do and started collapsing all over itself. Rueben crept up narer to the bison, and the bison war breathing mightily through its nostril hairs.
Leonard heard the shot, and birds flew and nature took pause, and after the wave Leonard rode fast and his horse knew the epicenter. Rueben loaded again as the beast shook and jumped moaning and moaning frothing around not knowing had hit it. Rueben leveled his rifle, steadied his eye and fired again: BBBBAAAANNNNGGG!!!
And the bison seemed about as taken aback as a stout fighter in a good fight. Rueben unaware of where he war hitting the bouncing bison loaded again, but the-the bison tumbled and pushed its neck on the ground and ran its back legs forward, skidding its front side into the hillside. Rueben looked on paralyzed as it tumbled over itself, and got up on its feet again and again just to tumble over. He watched the bison down the barrel of his gun, but did not shoot wondering if he had made a good enough shot. He war breathing heavily himself and he looked about swiftly, but drew back to the animal again and again. It would tumble and stay down and get up, but as it fell over Rueben hoped it would wear out and he could approach.