The Iow Review Volume 8 Issue 4 Fll Article 6 1977 Phntom Silver Willim Kittredge Follow this dditil works t: http://ir.uiow.edu/iowreview Prt of Cretive Writing Comms Recommended Citti Kittredge, Willim. "Phntom Silver." The Iow Review 8.4 (1977): 32-41. Web. Avilble t: https://doi.org/10.17077/0021-065x.2276 This Ctents is brought to you for free open ccess Iow Reserch Online. It h been ccepted for inclusi in The Iow Review n uthorized dministrtor of Iow Reserch Online. For more informti, plee ctct lib-ir@uiow.edu.
his shirttil. He st ginst his set motorcycle turned chmber round round, hering every click. Then he got cold without cot covered gun gin crmmed it down his pnts. He looked t me weird. He sid, "Redy?" Mx tried to sleep but couldn't. He got up put robe took double-brrel shotgun from closet. He took two shells from e of boxes in drwer. He st in stuffed chir his brushes, lowered gun butt to floor, lened forwrd until his eyebrows touched metl. Then he tripped both triggers. Poor Rex w just bout to climb stirs when he herd shotgun noise. He just stood re quiet until I took his h pulled him wy we wlked over to lunchroom. R w re in booth in bck. He'd hd pork tenderloin. We st in booth with him usul he told me how pretty pointed. "You should be hppy," R I looked. sid. Rex just sulked, he w so disp "Do I still get mey?" R nodded. He w grinning round cigr. He pushed n envelope cross tble. Rex just looked t it. "Then I guess I m hppy." "You should be." Rex stuffed envelope inside his cot pocket. Then everybody w quiet until I spoke up sid, "I just cn't st to think bout him wit ing in room knowing he's going to get it. It's too dmned wful." Rex looked t me strngely. R knocked h off his cigr. "Well," he sid, "you better not think bout it." Phntom Silver / Willim Kittredge The gret white horse rers bove rolling horiz, which is golden simple in sunset, those sprkling hooves strike out into green light under drk midsummer thunderclouds. Fr wy re is rin, brn swllows drop like thrown rocks through clouds of mosquito ner creek. A single plnet n strs grow luminous ginst night, gret horse is ge. Moths bt ginst screen round ver porch, we re left in tht dremed yesteryer where mked mn rides wy, leving his silver bullet behind. The light is cold in erly morning, silver bullet rests mntle like 32 University of Iow is collborting with JSTOR to digitize, preserve, extend ccess to The Iow Review www.jstor.org
trophy. Only in morning is it possible to think of tht mked mn old ft slow hppy. They were ll brve unmked in tht beginning, before Cven dish gng burned down crew of clen-shven Tex Rngers, left him for ded le, ll his comrdes sprwled round him killed. They hd ridden into n entrpping box cny, rifle fire crckled from surrounding rims. They were mbushed; horses rered scremed; good men fell, in ly few bets of hert it w over. The Cvendish boys wlked sty ground mid bodies, smiled if y would live forever. But he w not ded, ly scrred. Tto found him, sved him, revenge becme his gret obsessi, revenge justice. They were notis tht served him like two sides of coin. Right n, like ste into gold, he chnged. He rode tht white stl li nmed Silver, he disguised himself behind tht mk, he trveled with his drk compni, Indin nmed Tto, y begn ir endless cquest of wrg-doing. There w rnch fter rnch sved from etern bnkers mied secd ss from Bltimore. Alwys nor gold ship ment to be rescued. Anor sod-buster his fmily to be protected. Anor evil lw-mn to be cfounded. Anor wg trin to be jerked wy from clutches of circling svges?nye would hve grown wery, or even bored. How mny rustlers died, how mny homesteders' wives stood in doorwy of plin unpinted cbins with tht silver bullet still wrm in ir hs while y wdered loud who tht mked mn could hve been, while gret stlli rered, before Le Rnger Tto glloped wy? And now, why is gret stlli running le? Do we believe rel beginning of this end could hve been ly bore dom? Could re hve been mortl fmily, strg-hed fr mor who could split wood still sty womn, two children, broth er sister, ll of m come hving west to Tex fter Civil Wr? Could y hve been living hppily in juniper-log cbin lgside Brzos River before tht summer morning when Comnche cme down like slughtering, screming rin? Of course. They thought were y sfe. The Comnche hd been corrled for seven yers Oklhom Territory, eting minly dole met, fr w slow-spoken Germn or white men did not del with eily, so left mostly le. But re tht w bright morning truth, Comn che out of se, killers. But look wy from tht cbin killing for moment. Down re in bullrushes ner wter of Brzos re w n 33
or morning sort of time, re w dumb blnkness of eyes rolled bck to ir extreme stti, hrdness of len hipbes under flesh, hholds this bror mounts his sister from behind, younger broth er, older sister, her skirt tossed up where were y down re mtted grs, hidden from house tules nodding ct downy tils, sister her knees elbows bror in plugged from behind, going wek dizzy tht morning with her frid screm ing he herd so distntly might be her or even himself, but tht w foolish, y were prcticed wouldn't. He stopped, crouched over her, listening, she thrust herself bck ginst him. "D't you quit now," she sid. But he did. He hd. The screming he herd w not relly screming, not terfulness, tht cme lter, but high-pitched joyous whooping ki yiing, now he could her horses, hooves beting down hrd pcked wg rod. Sure hell re were lots of m, riding hrd. "D't you she stop," sid, but it w too lte for tht, lredy he hd fllen bck wy from her, turning, knowing re w no wy to see ny thing from where y were, tht w why y were sfe re those hidden mornings down ner river. Alredy he w frightened, lter he would sense she hd been strger, hd cred more thn he did bout wht w going right t time; lter he would underst it w n undivided mind tht gve her wht proved in time to be strength of her indifference. "Dmmit," she sid. "Then get yourself toger." Wht she ment w for him to pull up his pnts tuck in his shirttil, to do it It w she quietly. who kept him quiet crouching re those next hours smoke from burning cbin brns rose thin white into cler sky, fter first bellowing from ir fr ir mor's frntic shrieking, fter horses hd ge wy, smoke dwindled cme twilight frogs clled to e nor in quiet. It w she who kept him crouching hidden re, until next dy y were sved, t let sved in sense tht y could wlk wy, y were not killed not not cptured, bloody hirless like bodies of ir fr ir mor. She w sixteen tht summer of 1867, he w two yers younger, for few mths, fter y hd wlked those miles upstrem to ner est homested Brzos, towrd Plo Pinto, y were pitied fed. Then October begn to settle into fll, in November green heded mllrds Cnd geese S Hill Crne begn coming south, circling clling y settled towrd river. The clump of roses south wll of cbin pink-blooming froze, tmrck hung drker red ginst gry hillslopes big cott 34
wood flred e yellow morning in sun, but rel cold cme ll in e dy week before Thnksgiving, wer line of shdow morning horiz, ir grey hushed ll tht dy, n t twilight hrd norrner wind driven sleety rin. But y didn't leve until fter Thnksgiving mel, goose ll fixings. It w she who de cided. "We re going," she sid. By Christm y hd hooked wg rides south to Sn Antio, she would no lger let him touch her. "If we hd been to going sty re we would hve styed forever," she sid, fter beginning of new yer she took to leving him le for dys while she went round to tverns bnks of Sn Antio River, she cme home with mey. She hd her blnkets in room y shred, she would not let him come under m with her. "You hve de me wht dmge you could," she sid. It w not tht she did not love him, she explined, it w simply tht w dmge de. He took to breking horses for livery stble. He hd been good with horses. He could not remem ber his prents, y hd ge wy into those sclped bodies Comn che left behind, he could not think bout m t ll, thing he hted most w noti of horses he hd loved being driven north towrd territories those svges. Three summers lter, when he w seventeen, she left him behind lto ger. "You re mn enough," she sid. "You tke cre of yourself like I m going to tke cre of myself." She w loding just few things into sddle bgs, rich-looking crved-ler bgs provided tuberculr-looking white-hired mn she w with, mn who wore e quick gun climed to be medicl doctor, no e lthough hd ever known him to cure ny thing. "We re going to settle in north," she sid, tlking bout her res for trveling, though white-hired mn ment nothing. "He is to going do some work," she sid, tlking bout etern Wyoming Territory round Lrmie. re "Things clener in north," she sid, be fore she rode off lgside her mn. "But you sty round here. You cn be wht you wnt to be round here." By next summer he w riding with Tex Rngers, ll of m young clen-hed shven, except for older es with brushy mustches, he w thinking bout mn she hd ridden wy with, going north to some trouble centering round lg-horned cttle being driven tht wy out of Tex in gret herds, thinking bout how he w going to lern this lw business clen, getting set for nor e-dy meet ing with tht white-hired medicl doctor. He could not stop thinking bout her with tht mn, in his bed, her knees her elbows she hd been 35
when Comnche struck. He knew she w tht wy with white hired mn, he wtched m in drkness kept his hs off himself, getting redy. Then, in spring of 1876, it hppened, Cvendish gng did m in, left him re shot in fce, thinking him ded he chnged, like ste into gold. dry riverbed, rocky There cme lg single Indin, mn without tribe, rider pint horse, good drk mn nmed Tto, who found him nursed him, he reclled tht lg-go morning Comnche struck knew this w different life. As he recovered, he knew childishness w behind, tht somewhere in drk kindness of this new compni re w force he would hold stedy ginst tht, until now, he hd thought he loved: her white flesh in sunlight tht morning while she crouched with her skirt thrown forwrd. For lg while were so things eily cler, re w this drk new friend re w gret white horse, both were sides of wht w right, like Indin bufflo United Sttes nickel. And mk, silver bullets, were emblems of need to be ustere distnt if you were to be gret right. He understood emblems were ly em blems, wys of getting work de, even though mk covered tht drk purple scr, twisted hole tht hd been his nostrils before Cv endish gng shot him down rode wy, thinking he w ded, seeing he looked drowned in blood. And wht luck tht he could shoot so perfectly without ny sense of im ing, silver bullets being fter ll prt of him, wy he thought, shooting more business of blnce intent thn nything he under stood, bullets just going where he thought y would, though he could see pistol in h of some crven mn shoot it wy with ly thought. Those were legendry wering yers, when he did not think bout his sister. There w plenty of time; time w trpeze tht ly swung you bck forth. Those were yers our uni dvnced in its skip-step wy towrd Pcific meeting of fresh wter with slt tides in Golden Gte, yers our psenger piges were clubbed out of trees Indin children were clubbed out of bushes nti mde redy for clubbing of Cub Philippines Chin. The Py Ex press riders mounted ir quickly sddled horses t run while svges burned wy sttis behind m; ll but impounded remnnts of our sixty odd milli bufflo were slughtered for ir tgues humps hides bes; lg-horned cows wore ir wy north to grsy plins of Mtn Wyoming, surviving stmpede while light 36
ning flhed, surviving quicks Pltte, ly to perish in snowy blizzrd of 1885. The horse-drwn stges scttered dust between towns like Helen Butte, Goldfield Toph, crrying treure in ir strg boxes enticing wek blck-htted men into bitry; rilrods cme, building ir grded rodbeds inexorbly up through pses, over D ner Summit through Mri in norrn Rockies; nester fought cttle brs; cttle men fought sheep men; rich fought poor; brbed wire went up fought wind; sod grs w plowed under; streets of Crs were City pved with brick tht hd served bllt siling ships from Chin; Joseph Looking Gls fought off tourists in Yellowste, which w lredy Ntil Prk, before losing everything y hd suffered for in Ber Pw Moun tins. Somewhere fr wy lt visiry chiefs were dying. Crzy Horse w ded, wht re w to defend w somehow over first popping of internl combusti engine begn to be herd. There w nothing right left to do most of time, t ll to nothing do, our mn who begn down Brzos w not yet fifty yers of ge, still quick-hed he hd ever been, bored. In 1912 Tto found womn styed in Grnts Ps, Oreg, mid blossoming spring pple trees cherry wht mked mn clled wine-berries. The womn hd come west child from plins fter her toes were frozen off in ftermth of gret Ghost Dnce ms cre Pine Ridge Reservti of South Dkot in December of 1891. "We were like nimls," womn sid, "so y let us run." The erth shook Sn Frncisco, where he knew she w, where she hd to be, tht most sin-filled elegnt city, with wter ll round. The trench wrfre begn in Europe, he w too old. Over re y fought ech or from crft in ir, he would hve liked tht, it seemed right, he w too old. Then wr w over he strted towrd cot, rode white horse through mountins of norrn New Mexico, lg old trils tht hd been grded into rodwys, wintered lgside lke in Sierr, in spring drifted down to vlley towns of Cliforni, wdering wht next, trying to sty furtive now, hiding out, tking his time his wy to Sn Frncisco, perfecting disguises. He w growing old, le with white horse, lmost seventy get ting redy for Sn Frncisco, thinking of her hir, drk mrks of ge her hs, which would be like his. The mn she left Sn Antio with w no doubt ded, but she would hve nor. There would be something. In some elegnt house e of those hills she would be pouring te from silver service, pouring stedily, her hs not shking t ll. He would lift delicte cup mde of frgile English porcelin, perhps she would smile. 37
In those dys y still hd room for horses. The summer dy w cool tht close to ocen he cme up old missi rod, El Cmino, into Missi District of Sn Frncisco. Off west Twin Peks were green with forest bove m gry fog stood like n rrested wve. The Pcific w over re, he hd never seen ocen, never seen rel wves coming from Asi. The solid ground felt precrious, like it might tip, though it could slip wy with out strength of ctinent spred round. He wished he were bck solid ground of interior, smiled t himself, wishing he hd come here yers erlier when he w not old, when he would hve liked this wlking eggs, this vt uneiness, so much more importnt to c frt thn some fool with model 1873 Colt revolver. So he stbled white horse, in those dys when re w still room for horses, in brn swmpy ground of upper Missi, he rode n electrified cr out trolley towrd ocen, to see wht it w. It w like he w invisible, n disguised old mn with shot-off nose tht w impossibly ugly to look t. The blck mn in livery stble hd treted him like customer, people crowding round him cr trolley tlked lughed like nothing t ll w mtter, like this w wht y did ll time. As though his wound were mtter ly of ccident. Four sets down re w n old womn with n enormous goiter side of her neck, no e looked t her eir. Except for him, he wtched her, ce she looked up cught him smiled. They psed beyd Twin Peks, beneth fog out to grsy dune-l tht descended towrd se, it w necessry to wlk. The trolley-line ended, bord wlk went. He strolled, feeling he w coming towrd edge of wht he hd been. But it wn't. It w hevy with dmpness, fog thick round him, wves gry white little wy out he could see, but it wn't like edge of nything. He took off his boots left m in s, wlked down to wter, which w cold hell lpping his blue-white feet. He bcked out rolled himself cigrette, pulled few drgs of smoke, flicked cigrette into wter. It w like being t center of something, sting brefoot wrm dmp ground beside house where you hve lived in center of Kns. He fired e shot out into very center of tht gry circle of wter coming fog smiled t himself becuse re w nothing re to disrm. Of course she wn't up re in those hills, in some rich mn's house. He knew tht. She would not hve ge tht wy. Down Mrket Street, next dy fter he in slept stble beside white horse, tht w where she would be. She would underst tht much, be in right plce, 38
down re with injured, where rrognce w to equl foolishness. Over yers she would hve figured it out. She would hve left white hired mn before he died, she would hve ge right poor. But she w not re. This dy he went without his guns, without his mk gun-belt stocked with silver bullets. The white horse styed where it w stbled, ots munching clmly if this were not new world, he wlked brrooms, expecting to see her lughing qurreling, mybe selling flowers street-corner. Tht night he in room styed which smelled of urine mmi, slept sheets tht smelled of old nervous swet, not relly sleeping, just resting re dreming, feeling she w ner somewhere, knowing she w re, close, witing. But she w not. He wlked muddy streets towrd outskirts of city comm mn, she w not re. At let he hd not So it w her turn. recognized her. He went bck to ly things re were: his mk, his silence, those guns, gret white horse. No mtter wht comforts of ner wter, he would not be comm mn. Trussed out in his blck ler gun-belt, so she would see, he would be wht he hd been, so totlly prepred for whtever hppened he hd been ble to see moment of his own deth: lurking cowrd, high-powered rifle shot from behind, loud fter-crck echoing where Stked Plins fll off Cp Rock in west Tex, swllows flushing turning through fter no, deer in thickets river lifting ir heds fter impct, drkness closed fr-wy silence begn. These lt gunless dys of serching in this city, where even sound of lt rifle shot would be lost mid cobbled streets, he went imlessly where she might be, tht moment of dying hd seemed closer. But he would not die dumb mible. So he mde inquiries. Who w most evil wretched mn in this town? She would see, he thought, gret horse cntered bricks. He would not be comm mn. There w no worst mn, but re w mn who owned worst men. There from fr wy we see city hills in sunlight of tht morning, wter gleming round ferry bots, sidewlk crowds lg Mrket Street trolley crs clnging, squre blck utomobiles mked mn his white horse riding proudly be tween ste buildings, up from Missi n down Mrket to wrd building where ferry bots were docking. The white horse prnces his mne blows in se breeze. The mked mn stops be fore n Irish tvern, clms his horse. In through gleming clen windows of tvern he cn see fces peering out, old men old wo 39
men, gret depths. In his deep, stedy voice he clls out worst mn in Sn Frncisco, n old Chinese gentlemn with white thin berd hundreds of killer functiries, both white orientl, some brutl, some cunning. The mked mn sits his horse with his hs poised t his guns. At let he will not die mible, tht old mgic will bring down e or two before he goes, even though deer lg Brzos will never her of it. But old Chinese gentlemn comes out le, wering lg brocde gown decorted with silver gold thred, he holds his hs to ger before him, though prying. "You come in," he sys in his quvering voice, gesturing t mked mn. "You come in with us," he sys. "You shke your hs t your sides," he sys, " you feel sun your bck, gret knot will untie itself." "Feel wrmth," he sys, "move your fingers." "Twist your hed your neck, feel come crcking things loose. Feel movement of ech finger, wrmth of sun coolness of se." The Chinese gentlemn begins moving his hs up down t his sides in motis like those of newborn birds, deep sleeves his embroidered gown flpping if he t might ny moment fly. As if his were t body lt doing wht it wnted with him, mked mn found his fingers flexing unlocking his hed slowly turning from e side to or, lifting flling he twisted smll old bes of his upper spine begn to crck prt from e nor. "Feel movement of ech finger," Chinese gentlemn sys, " ching in your joints it ll comes loose." Like child out tht street tride his gret white horse, his rms begin to lift his fingers feel like fers, mked mn knows it is importnt now, in this old ge, to risk foolishness. new Something h be gun, hevy revolvers t his sides will never gin be prt of wht he is; he feels light ly encumbered se trppings of gretness, guns hevy silver bullets in stiff ler belt. "Step down," Chinese gentlemn sys, " ccept this present from n old mn." From folds in his gown Chinese n gentlemn produces ornge, which he holds gift towrd mked mn. re "They sweetest oldest in ll world," Chinese mn sys, " golden pples of orient. In south of Chin like fire mid emerld leves." gentle re y Thus mked mn comes to st in cool cvernous drkness of tvern with his fingers feeling like fers, Chin Ornge be fore him hrdwood surfce of br. "The outside is golden," Chinese The gentlemn sys, " inside is sweet." people crowding round mked mn re old, 40 y re tlk
ing old people will, sting in clusters sometimes some gesturing, times tlking ngrily, but tlking. A ft old womn with bright red lipstick pink flowered dress, who could never hve been his sister, rubs t his neck, digging her thumbs into knot he feels now between bldes of his shoulders, re, mked mn sts twisting his hed his neck, to listening crcking of smll bes loosening mselves from e nor, he knows knot is coming unde, untying him from wht he h been, guns t his side re more more hevy foolish weight. "You sty here with us," Chinese gentlemn sys. "We know re is to nothing be de bout ny of tht out re." "Tell us," Chinese gentlemn sys, "wht ll tht w like, out re." The mked mn crefully lifts his guns from ir holsters plces m crefully worn mhogny surfce of br, lgside m he plces silver bullet. "Everybody knows," mked mn sys, "wht it w like out re." The mked mn orders drink, round for house, for wht he clls his friends, n Irish brtender in stiff collr sets him up bottle of whiskey ccepts silver bullet pyment. The mked mn peels off his mk sts brefced beside ged Chinese gentlemn does not feel mutilted he sips his drink listens to this society he h joined, old Finns French Britishers round him tlking, cckling of old men, old women telling of childbirth fter rising drinks he h bought to tot him silently. "There w morning," mked mn sys, "down river, when Comnche cme..." No e is lis tening. The mked mn begins to peel soft glowing Chin Ornge, stripping peel wy in lg spooling moti n seprting sectis ligning m before him br before eting first e. The juice is cool rich sweet. For him it is over. In time left he will spend lifetime of silver. He will be ncient when gret fires blos som over Dresden Jpn, fter millis died, he will not know he should cre. Now slm die in turbines he does not know t ll. But re w moment when gret silence descended, beyd Stked Plins Cp Rock of west Tex, where swllows flushed turned through fterno, deer in thickets Brzos lifted ir heds. In tht silence down re mid bullrushes river, girl crouched her knees with her skirt thrown forwrd, her flesh w so perfectly white under fresh sun. morning "D't you stop," she sid. And for us re is still tht gret white horse rering bove rolling hor iz, which is golden simple in sunset, those sprkling hooves strik ing out into green light under drk midsummer thunderclouds. Fr wy re is rin, strs growing luminous, white horse running. 41