Maccloud falls, p.29
macCLOUD FALLS, page 29
‘No, I suppose. I feel really tired today. I want to do things, but...’
‘Take your time,’ she said. ‘We’ll go when you feel ready.’
He sat up in bed. ‘So I probably didn’t make it to the cabin?’
‘What?
‘Last night, remember, you told me what Deeanna said, about losing me.’
‘Did I? Oh yes, I did… sorry…’
Gil stretched and yawned. ‘It’s all right. Thought it was all a bit too surreal to be true.’ He seemed disappointed, all the same.
‘Let’s go and see High Ridge like we planned,’ Martina said. ‘It’s going to be another hot day, though, so be careful what you wear.’
‘Nice dress,’ he said.
She was about to leave when she turned back, ‘Talking about clothes, you don’t have a spare shirt I could borrow? I didn’t really pack much besides this and I don’t want to wear it if we’re going to a farm. It gets dirty with dust so easily.’
Theo, Dolette’s brother-in-law, had said to look out for the big fruit-stand. They were twenty minutes late finding the place. It seemed much more than five kilometres, all uphill away from the valley floor, and the drag up the canyon side took a while. The highway was busy with trucks and neither of them knew the way.
After a while they saw the fruit-stand. It certainly was big, made of plain unfinished timber, set back from the road and stretching a good fifty metres by the roadside. A rough handmade sign composed of large carved letters fixed to the apex of its roof announced: BEST FRUIT IN THE CANYON! HIGH RIDGE FARM. But all the shelves were empty and there was no sign of anyone tending it.
They parked, got out of the car and found a shady spot to wait. The house itself was about a hundred metres further up the hill, in a majestic setting on the edge of the ridge. They could see the farm faced due south as the sun was high and hot in front of them.
No one came.
‘Maybe he was here on time and went away?’
‘Could be.’
‘Should we take a look up at the house?’
‘Could do.’
‘Tell you what, I’ll go, in case he comes, you stay here. Come on, lad.’
She walked up the dirt track with the dog on the leash. About halfway, she turned to look back, but there was still no one there but Gil.
The view was absolutely stunning. The higher she climbed, the more she could see of the canyon. It seemed far greater in scope than she’d imagined. Driving up from Vancouver, reaching the crossing in that little flat valley she felt as if she’d seen its full compass, but now it was clear that this canyon went much much higher.
Into view came a small waterfall to the rear of the house and garden. Fresh running water – gravity would carry it down. The house was grander than she’d imagined. There was a big front deck with steps up on either side, and a fancy carved balustrade, supporting an ornate porch. The window casings too looked quite grand, in a European sort of way. The front door was padlocked, and behind the drawn shades was a hidden world.
She turned and took in the panorama, these great rocks and the life that clung to them. Thrived among them, some of it. In the fields below, she could see rows of fruit trees run in regiment downhill. She heard a far off buzzing, like a light aircraft or something, and it grew louder. She saw a flock of birds rise from among in the fields and over the crest of the slope a man riding a tiny motorbike appeared, kicking up dust as it went. She began to descend from the porch and was back at the foot of the hill by the time the rider arrived at the fruit-stand.
It was the guy from Dollette’s, her brother-in-law. He switched off the engine, kicked the stand down, but continued to sit on the bike, sunglasses on.
‘You guys found it?’
‘Sure. Quite a place.’
‘Big old farm. You only see a bit of it up here. There’s fields and fields further down.’
‘And your own water-supply, I see,’ Martina said, nodding up towards the waterfall.
‘Yup. That’s why she’s here. Old man Laurens, the guy who first broke the land, he was a clever old Dutchman. Brought the water down in flumes.’
‘Like MacLeod down at the ferry?’
‘Yup. Smaller falls here, closer to the house and barns so we aren’t divertin it so far. Plus we got more elevation here so it works better. But same principle. I believe Macleod took the idea from old Laurens back in the day. Come on up, I’ll show you round.’
He hit a button, the minibike roared to life, rocked it off its stand and he was off up the slope to the house in puff of fine dust and smoke. By the time they’d walked up, he was on the porch with the front door unlocked, sunglasses still on.
‘Here she is,’ he said. ‘You know if I’d had time to sort it out before, if I’d known you were coming, but hey, you got to look past the mess and see the potential. This is period everything. Cept my son’s garbage. I let him stay up here while he’s workin the fields.’
‘So who was Laurens?’ she asked.
‘Old Laurens? He was just about the first settler up here. Maybe even was the first. Got lucky in the goldrush. So they say. Built this place with his stake.’
‘You know, this explains something that puzzled me, Gil, when I read your writing. Why it was that Lyle’s uncle John MacLeod suddenly set himself up here as a fruit-farmer. But if someone else was already doing it successfully, that would help explain it.’
‘I don’t know much about your MacCloud, but I know old Laurens knew what he was about all right. The evidence is still here. It all still works, just about.’
‘So what’s the connection with Lyle here?’ she asked.
‘He lived here about ten years. Married Laurens’ daughter.’
‘But he was married to Antko?’
The sunglasses were raised. ‘Antko?’
‘His wife,’ Martina said.
Gil, who was subdued, said, ‘She died and he remarried later.’
‘The daughter of this settler?’
‘Yup. Their kids were born here. There’s graves up by the waterfall. I’ll show you.’
‘Later,’ she said. ‘Can we see round the house?’
So they went on in. It was like some old great grandma was living there with her untidy great-grandson. The widescreen tv and games console, the scattered clothes and the nude posters, hiding the old lady’s painted walls and furniture. The corridors were runways between empty suitcases, mountain bikes and skis. But in the kitchen the old lady still held sway. In there was a perfect capsule of a life lived out long ago, the tins with their labels, the pots and the pans, the great black cooking range imported from Germany, the huge kitchen table which could seat all the farmworkers, the cupboards and the drawers. The framed embroidery on the wall.
‘Wow,’ she said. ‘This is something.’
‘Hardly been in here since we bought the farm, but yes, when you come to mention it, it’s something alright.’
‘You never lived here?’
‘No, not us. We got a new house in town. It’s a lonely place up here at High Ridge. We just work the farm.’
Gil called from another room. ‘I see all the bookcases in the hall here are empty.’
‘Ah, ya, Rick’s wife Audrey from the inn, she bought them. They were just gettin spoiled here with damp.’
She crossed the threshold to where Gil was standing, looking out a window to the yard in the back. ‘You seem a little down. Did you overdo it yesterday?’
‘Aye. A bit,’ he said. ‘But empty bookshelves always make me sad, somehow.’ His eyes travelled over the wood, shaped to fit the space perfectly, finished with a rough but true hand, to hold the family library. ‘So I’ve been reading old man Laurens’ books,’ he said. ‘I wondered where she got all those, if maybe they were MacLeod’s or Lyle’s.’
Theo the sun-glassed guide appeared in the doorway. ‘Books,’ she said to his puzzled expression, ‘It’s all Gil can think about.’
Theo laughed. ‘Now who says a man can’t multi-task? Like I always say, I can drink and smoke and watch hockey and eat chili all at the same.’
She was looking closely at the row of kitchen tools hanging above the range. ‘What did they even use all these for? What do you think, Gil?’ She looked around but he was still lingering in the hallway.
She found him looking up the canyon to the waterfall. ‘You okay?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I mean sure. Just thinking about those graves up there. Wondering if he’s among them.’
They headed out to see. The trail from the house through the alfalfa scrub wasn’t far – they could see the small fenced-off area as they approached.
‘You better watch your dog here – lotsa prickly pears,’ their guide said.
‘Maybe you’d better not come, lad,’ she said and glanced at Gil.
‘We’re nearly there now. Look, I’ll carry him.’ Gil lifted the dog up so smoothly it didn’t have time to complain. ‘Lots a prickly pears and we don’t want prickly paws,’ he said. The dog seemed to understand and licked his face.
‘Hero, I don’t know what’s come over you,’ she said, but smiled, as if pleased by what he’d done. ‘He’s quite heavy, though.’
They advanced the last few strides along the narrowing path, the sun-glassed guy stepping on ahead, she thought looking from behind like Dennis Hopper in Easy Rider, she stepping carefully wondering about rattlesnakes and wearing Gil’s plaid shirt loose, and the Scotsman behind carrying her collie named Hero, towards a fence the same as that around the Indian graveyard, the same criss-crossed pattern, the same iron posts. Even the bolt on the gate that the sun-glasses guy opened, and the sounds it seemed to make, were alike.
Inside was indeed a colony of prickly pear, with two small upright stones, side by side modestly in death. Walter and Floortje Laurens. Nothing beyond names and proximity was necessary, they were together. And then, almost hidden by the undergrowth, their guide revealed three smaller gravestones, laid flat.
‘The grandkids. All scattered right here. Wanted to be back at High Ridge. Had their happiest times up here as kids.’
‘Wow.’ She looked at Gil as he stood holding her happy dog, his eyes running over the text, as if he was memorising it.
‘So what about the middle generation?’ he asked Theo.
Martina added, ‘Yes, Lyle and Laurens’ daughter? Are they buried here?’
Dennis Hopper stiffened. ‘No, not here. Now I believe, but I haven’t seen them, the graves are over in Merritt somewhere, cause when Jimmy Lyle got ill they moved over there. Right near the end of his life.’
They walked back to the house and Theo showed them the rest of the home spread, the yards and what was once the flower garden, ancient rose bushes now in the last battle of an old planting against nature.
Theo summarised it to them. ‘You need a team to manage something like this. Back in the day there’s a dozen folk living and working it all, and others when they needed them. Maybe didn’t have a lot of money but they all ate and had somewhere to sleep.’ He seemed quite proud of it all, yet saddened by the state of it and, worst of all perhaps, his inability to do anything about it. High Ridge was just frozen in time, a decaying edifice to the pioneers he saw as family, while the water ran from the falls, and the fields still produced fruit all around the old house.
As they walked back down the slope, their guide told them that if they wanted it, he could clear it up, for the movie. It wouldn’t take long. All they had to do was let him know – and make the right offer, he grinned. They looked at each other, both wondering whether to bother trying to deny the rumour. Neither did, just thanked him for taking the time to show them round. He lifted his shades and gazed at her. ‘Not at all, it was a great pleasure meeting you. I always liked you in that movie…’
Then she did interrupt. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
He laughed. ‘Sure, sure. I know. Hush my mouth.’ And he winked.
‘All roads lead to Merritt, it seems,’ Gil said, as they watched the minibike blast off into the fields below once more. ‘Country and Western capital of Canada.’
She popped the car-locks and got in. ‘Hmm, looks like it.’
‘You say that with little enthusiasm.’
‘Maybe Country and Western capital doesn’t have the same appeal to me as it obviously does for you? Is it far?’
‘Not far, no. Couple of hours, maybe.’
On the drive back down the canyon, the road seemed much shorter. She hardly touched the accelerator, the VW just ran down the mountainside, cruising. Gil seemed quiet and Hero was glad to be back in the AC.
‘Okay now?’
‘Me or the dog?’
‘You.’
He didn’t respond right away, as if he was sorting out the words into the best order. ‘Those kids – the graves – they could be Dad’s half-brothers and sister.’
‘Your father. He never spoke of them?’
‘No. If they were, I don’t think he knew.’ The highway turned sharply towards the valley floor and the Falls. ‘I’m sure he didn’t know,’ he added, as the old bridge came into view. ‘Or maybe he did and just didn’t want to…’
‘What?’
‘Deal with the sadness, maybe. The sense of separation. Loss.’
The VW was coasting then, The camber of the highway seemed to steer the wheels for her. As if it knew where to go.
‘This movie stuff is getting a bit silly,’ he said. ‘Don’t you think?’
‘It is. But what can we do?’
‘We could ride on outa here,’ he said, in a cowboy drawl.
She laughed. ‘Where to?’
‘I’m a-headin north to see ma buddy Gordon,’ he drawled on.
‘Shut up,’ she said. ‘You sound ridiculous.’ But after a moment she asked if he meant the man he’d told her about, the Scotsman who had never been to Scotland.
‘Yup,’ he said, and she punched his shoulder.
She was thinking about Vancouver, the mess she’d left behind, the texts that were probably waiting for her, whenever she found a signal for her cell phone. After a while, she said, ‘You know, I was thinking, if you like, I could stick around for a while. I could drive you up to see your friend in the wilderness, what was his name, Gordon? Shall we make a road trip of it?’
He was surprised. ‘Well, I’d like that, but it’s a long way.’
‘I’ve got time,’ she mused. ‘And maybe I can find a store somewhere to buy some clothes.’
‘I think Merritt’s got a bit of a centre, you’d probably find something.’
‘You mean like cowgirl duds?’
‘Have you ever been there?’
She shook her head. ‘I didn’t really know this part of BC existed before. Merritt. Kamloops. Just names on the weather forecast. It’s like the wild west, desert and cactuses and cowboys and Indians. I mean, what’s up with that? It should be forest and lumberjack.’
So the decision was made. That night they ate at the Apple Store, transformed back to the quiet restaurant from the country club of the night before, and Paulette was just herself, though slightly jaded. They told her they’d decided to drive on up to Merritt, to see if they could find the graves, like Theo suggested.
It was a quiet night, after the excitement of the previous. She slept well despite the heat. By next morning the news had spread, and George and his family came by to say goodbye. They were sorry he hadn’t come for supper like they planned. Maybe when they came back?
They packed and loaded the car, spoke with Rick and Gil paid the bill, prepared to set off and, politely without actual commitment, said they would be back soon. It seemed to take forever, the shaking of hands and pleasantries, but finally, the car doors were shut and arms waved as they were pulling out, onto the highway to Merritt, intending to drive away from it all. But then she saw, behind the wiper of the car, a handwritten note: I hear ur leavin but pls call in on the way out of town – I have smthin to show you. Call me. Deeanna. So she went back into the inn to phone, and the whole farewell saga began again.
This time, they got away, left the inn going north and she drove past the old bridge, on up the bank of the river, parallel to the rail track like she’d been told to. A straight empty road stretched ahead. Hero lay down on the rear seat, as if sensing there was a way to go before the next stop. The AC was on and the car was the coolest place to be.
After a while, out of nowhere, she heard herself ask, ‘So did you intend to die?’
‘What?’
‘When you came up here?’
‘Did I?’ He laughed. ‘Maybe deep down, I didn’t care all that much. But then I got caught up in the mystery. And I wanted to know more.’
They came to a crossing where the highway skipped the tracks, and zigzagged through it to the mountain foot, and the road that climbed over its shoulder. Slowly, from the rise, another valley came into view, heading away from the canyon. Another river, smaller and slower, a tributary, appeared from its upper slopes and flowed into the Thompson beneath a great steel rail bridge. Beyond that, the mountains. ‘It’s fantastic,’ she said, stretching to see the highest peak. But her amazement quickly turned to the structure that appeared by the riverside. Huge cedar beams were shaped into mimetic life like feathers on a gigantic wing, and they shone vigour in the desert sun. It was an eagle’s wing and it was ready for flight.
Deeanna was where they’d arranged to meet, at the corner of the trail down to the site. She was wearing a red poncho with a bold design – an animal of some kind, but it wasn’t clear immediately.
‘Hey, Veronika,’ Deeanna said, as they got out of the car. ‘It’s good to see you.’ She didn’t acknowledge Gil till he spoke.
‘That sounds weird,’ Gil said, “Veronika.’’
‘How come?’
‘He calls me Martina. It’s a long story.’
‘O… kay,’ Deeanna laughed, her upper lip curled as she did. Veronika hadn’t seen her in daylight before, but the Elvis resemblance was strong from a certain angle. ‘Anyway, like I said when you called, I thought after we talked the other night I really wanted you to see this. And when I heard you were leaving… anyways, most people just drive straight past cause it’s right next to the reservation, but I think you guys’ll like it.’
