Song of the Angel

Chapter 4: SONG OF THE ANGEL1

Angelica stumbled along in the dark, not caring where she went, as long as it was away from the orphanage. Noreen had told her about another shallow creek other than the one that ran right by the orphanage that wasn’t too far away as well. She advised her to “get in it and stay in it for a while”, so as to not leave any tracks. Noreen didn’t tell her why she preferred one creek over the other, but Angelica trusted her friend and was going to try and do what she had told her. Though it was clear, the night was pitch dark, the moon being just a mere sliver in the sky, and Angelica didn’t have much faith in her being able to find the creek. Then she slid down an embankment, and when her feet hit the bottom, her boots filled with water. She realized that she had floundered upon the creek in spite of the darkness and her lack of knowledge of the area. Years later, she would say, “the creek found her, she didn’t find it.”2

So Angelica plodded along in the creek, bumping into rocks, logs, and embankments whenever the creek turned, which was often. The dark prairie seemed to be alive, and serenaded her as she went, a sweet melody of twitters and hoots and howls. However, she didn’t feel afraid; rather the song of the prairie was soothing to her, and she listened intently as she waded along. She became drowsy in a little while, but she didn’t stop; she wanted to put as much distance as she could between herself and that white-walled prison she had just escaped from.3

Angelica had no conception of time as she walked, so it was with some surprise she noticed the sky begin to lighten and the faint edge of the glimmering sun peek over the horizon. She had walked all night, she realized, driven by her desire to be free. But the coming of the sun made her tiredness sink in, and she felt the weight of the world settling on her shoulders. Looking to her right, she saw the silhouette of an oak tree, and she clambered out of the creek and reeled toward it, scarcely able to keep her tired legs going. When she got to the tree, she used what little strength she had left and climbed up to what she deemed to be a predator-safe height, and reposed in the cleft of two wide branches. The last thing Angelica remembered doing was taking off her “squishy” boots, and then she fell into a deep, deep sleep…4

When Angelica groggily awoke, she thought it to be around mid-day, or maybe a little after. She was still in the cleft of the oak tree, apparently not having moved during her slumber. She gingerly moved one leg and then the other, bending them at the knee. Sharp pains ran up and down her thighs and hips as she did this, but the pain eased more and more with each flex, until she at last she felt as if she might be able to stand and move around. Angelica then put hands flat against the branches, and attempted to push herself up into a sitting position, but then the pain hit her. Her tailbone and lower back sent signals up to her brain, telling her “don’t do that!”, and Angelica fell back against the tree, feeling for all the world like someone had driven nails into her back. But she realized that wasn’t true, of course, so she tried again and again, alternately grunting and crying with each repetition. Finally, at last, she did it, and sat bolt upright in the cleft of the tree.5

“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” Angelica lied to herself as she retrieved her boots and socks and agonizingly put them on. The next step would be to get down from the tree, and she pondered just how she might do that for a moment. Ultimately, she decided that the old “hold your nose and jump” method might be the best, and certainly the quickest, way so she took a deep breath and clambered out of the cleft and over the side, clinging to the bark all the way.6

In a second or so, Angelica found herself lying in a heap at the bottom of the tree, cursing the day she was born. She stayed there for a few minutes until the pain subsided somewhat and then gingerly pulled herself up onto her feet. She proceeded to mincingly [where were her feet?] walk around a little bit, her manner of walk resembling a great deal that of a barnyard chicken; head bobbing, feathers ruffled. Gradually, though, her stride returned to normal and Angelica could feel her feet once again.7

“Note to self,” she thought, “humans weren’t meant to sleep in trees!”8

Back at the orphanage, the day had started normally, and it remained that way until Noreen reported to Sister Anne that the little girl had not shown up in the kitchen and that “hain’t no one seen her neither.” Sister Anne had gone and checked the little girl’s cubbyhole, discovering that not only was there no one there; her bunk didn’t appear to be disturbed either. She informed the Rector, whom had a couple of the security guards sweep the grounds for any sign of the little girl. The guards reported in about two hours that “there was no sign of the girl, but they had found a hole in the fence.” The Rector went and inspected the hole, instantly remembering that it was there when he saw it, and wishing that he had “gotten around” to having the workmen finish the job a long time ago. He also thought, “It was amazing what a six-year-old could do when she set her mind to it”, noting all the moved bricks. He gave instructions to cover the hole again, and then told his guards to ride around the complex looking for tracks. A little while later, they informed the Rector they had found some small boot prints that ended at the creek. The Rector looked out a window, and seeing that it was getting late, he told his men, “Well, ride up the creek for a little ways, and see if you can spot her or some more prints, but if you don’t find anything pretty quick, ride on to town and tell the sheriff that we have a little girl that’s gotten herself lost.” The men remounted and left, and then the Rector had Sister Anne go to fetch Noreen. He wanted to tell Noreen a thing or two about keeping a better eye on her workers…9

The guards continued their search for a short while, turning up nothing, and then rode on into Fort Worth to deliver the Rector’s message to the sheriff. They found Sheriff Jonas Cartwright sitting on the porch in front of his office/jail. The guards repeated the Rectors words to the Sheriff verbatim, and he said, “Thanks boys, tell the Rector I’ll get right on it,” and tipped his hat. The boys decided to stop in the saloon for a beer and a shot before riding back to the orphanage; that one beer and shot ended up being two before they could drag themselves away. As they were riding out of town, they noted that the Sheriff was still sitting on his porch, apparently not having moved yet.10

Sheriff Cartwright watched the men ride out and spat between his feet. “So, one of the Rector’s little slaves had turned up missing”, he mused. I wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last, he knew. At any rate, it was too late for him to do anything tonight; in the morning, he would get a couple of men and go have a look. Right now, he wasn’t going to do anything except have another chew of tobacco and a drink of whiskey. At least this time it wasn’t a suicide, or a murder-suicide as happened once.11

“Yessir,” he thought while taking a drink, “real nice place the Rector got hisself there.”12

Once she got her legs and feet working passably again, Angelica started trudging along once more. She opted to not get back in the creek again, and walked along the western bank, which led her in a general southwest direction, those facts being revealed to her by the position of the sun. She rummaged through the backpack she had packed for her journey, and came out with some beef jerky and hard tack, which she devoured hungrily; but she was careful to leave enough for a couple more meals, she knew she might be wandering around for quite a while.13

It was rough going, for the creek banks were a tangled bramble of low-lying brush and bushes. But Angelica stayed with it, for she didn’t want to move out into the open, tree-dotted prairie, where she might be easily spotted. So it was with great effort she made her way forward, sliding between brush here and under bushes there; tiptoeing across deadfall whenever she came upon some.14

Soon, the end of the day began creeping up on Angelica, and up ahead where the creek turned left, she found a clearing that high water had cleaned out at one time or the other, and decided to make camp there. Firewood was plentiful and she soon had enough gathered for the evening, and started a fire. Although the edge of the sun was still hanging on the horizon, the air was cool already and would get a lot cooler later, Angelica knew. The warmth of the fire felt good, and would help keep predators away, all except for one. That predator was man, who was often attracted by fires, and not repelled by them. This country wasn’t as sparsely populated as some parts of Texas, and Angelica knew that there were people about. She shuddered and drew her little blanket closer. She just hoped that when she ran across someone, they were the “right sort”. Finally, she lay down, holding onto the little green crucifix that Noreen had made for her, the one that matched her eyes so well. 15

The Sheriff paid a visit to the orphanage the following morning. He had two farm boys in tow; kids that knew the countryside pretty well, having been born and raised there. He didn’t bother any of his four deputies to come with him, someone had to stay in Fort Worth and take care of the city, a task that could be pretty formidable at times. Although he had temporarily deputized the boys, he didn’t allow them to carry guns; they were far too young and green for that. They were there to search, and not to shoot. In the back of his mind, Sheriff Cartwright hoped that they didn’t find anything, the last thing on Earth he wanted to do right now was to wade into some god-awful, muddy creek and pull a little girl’s lifeless body out of it. He would do it if he had to, but by golly, he sure didn’t want to…16

At last, he saw the gate guard come out of the main building with the Rector close behind. 17

“Sorry for the delay, sheriff,” he said. “I was just composing Sunday Mass for our little heavenly flock here.”18

“Uh-huh,” said Cartwright, noting the Rector seemed a little unsteady on his feet. “I don’t suppose you were a-testin’ the wine to make sure it was okay as well?”19

“Heaven’s no, sheriff, “you know I only touch it when we break bread for communion!”20

“Right, and what are those two cases of brandy for that you order from town every month?”21

“Strictly medicinal purposes, Sheriff, strictly medicinal. A little brandy disinfects scraped little knees quite well.”22

“Wooo-eeeee, ya’ll sure must get a lot of knee scrapes ’round here. Two cases? What do ya’ll do, pour a whole bottle on each one?”23

“Why, Sheriff, I’m afraid that you underestimate just how rambunctious a bunch of kids can be,” said the Rector somewhat nervously.24

“Yeah, right, whatever you say Rector,” said Cartwright, who had suddenly grown tired of baiting the Rector. He, after all, had work to do.25

“Wal, me and these boys here are gonna take a look around and see iffen we can spot any clues as to her whereabouts. Don’t forget to get the paperwork the state requires filled out, so’s I can pick it up on the way back.”26

“I got it all ready right now, if you want it.”27

“I said I’d pick it up on the way back,” said the Sheriff.28

“Yessir,” said the Rector.29

The Sheriff and his “deputies” traveled both sides of both creeks that day, and found nothing. Cartwright thought it more likely the girl had taken the stream that went into Fort Worth proper, in spite of the fact that the only set of prints they found led to the other creek, the one that skirted past Fort Worth to the south. But, either way, they didn’t find a thing, and gave up on the search when they and their horses were tired. He dismissed the boys and then went by the orphanage once again and picked up the Rector’s paperwork before retiring to his office to work on his own. In that paperwork, which was for the county [Tarrant], he reported one Angelica Trey; female juvenile aged six or seven, missing. Then he leant back in his chair and had a drink. Tomorrow, he had other things to do…30

Angelica arose before sunrise the next day and pulled on her boots, which were still a little damp. She ate some more jerky and hardtack and when the sun began to creakily rise, she scuffed out the fire and started traveling again. A lot of the soreness and stiffness from her night in the tree had left her young body, and she really felt quite well this morning. For some reason, the shrubs and bushes and the unevenness of the ground seemed much easier to traverse than it had the day before, and she felt as if she was making quite good time. In addition, the weather was cool and invigorating, with a mild breeze blowing, and she hardly sweated as she progressed along. Angelica had no idea where she was going, but she felt with satisfaction that at least she “was making good time going nowhere”. 31

But by the time midday arrived, it was substantially warmer and the breeze had died to a mere whisper. Angelica was sweating now, her shirt sticking to her back, and her progress through the brush had slowed considerably. She walked over to the stream and knelt beside it, splashing the cool water in her face. It felt good, so good in fact that on impulse she immersed her whole head in the water for a few seconds. When she sat up, she felt cool rivulets of water running down her back from her soaked hair, causing her to feel cool all over. Feeling so good now that she became a little giddy, she impetuously removed all her clothing and waded out into the stream until at last, if she squatted, she was neck deep in the moving current. She peacefully remained in the water for the next 30 minutes or so, alternately rubbing the grime from herself and playfully splashing. Although she didn’t wish to leave the coolness of the stream, she at last realized she must; she had to take steps forward to reach her destiny, such as it might be, and lolly-gagging in the water wasn’t going to get her there. So it was she regretfully clambered up the creek banks to her clothes and started putting them on, without any attempt to dry herself; she knew that the wet clothes would keep her cool for yet a while longer. As she was donning her shirt, she looked down the stream to the south, and that’s when she saw the smoke.32

There it was, a thin trail of smoke etching its way up into the blue sky on the now near windless day, tracing the heavens higher and higher until at last it reached an elevation where some wind did exist and it dissipated in wispy puffs. Angelica’s little mind rapidly went into gear; smoke meant people, people meant food and [perhaps] some shelter, maybe even a coat for the coming cold weather. At the same time, people also meant possible danger, and Angelica made a note to herself to be cautious. She realized, however, that she was running short on food, and was rapidly growing tired of jerky and hardtack; she felt like she could gulp down an entire bucket of beans right at the moment, the juice running down her chin. But careful, be careful, she reminded herself. She had known all along that she would have to make human contact at some point, but she would have to have a look at the owners of the smoke. She envisioned herself stealthily observing these people while hidden in the bushes; if they seemed like “the right kind” of people, she would openly greet them, if not; she would act as the thief in the night and steal what she needed.33

The coolness of the water and the sighting of the smoke gave new life to Angelica’s step, and she determinedly sprang into her travels again, light of heart but serious in intent. The smoke appeared to be close rather than far, and she estimated that, “Shoot, I oughta be there in a coupla hours or so”. It was then that Angelica learned about viewing things of the horizon; what often seems close, seldom is. The wind picked up again and the smoke vanished, and soon the bright orb of the Sun began its rapid descent to twilight. She at last realized that she wasn’t going to reach her destination on this day, and began scrounging around for a place to camp. It didn’t take long to find a suitable site, and Angelica collapsed on the ground beneath yet another oak tree. After eating her hardtack and jerky while wishing it was something else, she built her fire and gathered up some Juniper branches from yet another nearby tree and covered with them, anticipating a cool night. She quickly fell asleep, and dreamed of pinto beans and fatback simmering over a fire.34

“I’m gonna have gas”, was her first thought when she arose in the morning, the dreams of the pinto beans still clinging in her mind. But her thoughts of gas turned out to be just the ordinary “call to nature” of all animals, and Angelica went behind the oak tree and relieved herself. Remembering her quest for the source of the smoke, she quickly broke camp and donned her boots, beginning her travel once again. As she walked, she eagerly searched the morning skies, looking for signs of the smoke, but the morning had awakened cool and breezy, and Angelica could find no evidence of smoke. She shivered from the cold this morning, in direct contrast to the heat of the afternoon the day before, and felt no desire to swim in the creek. She envisioned the creek having ice floes floating down it, like some of the pictures of strange lands she had read about in the orphanage’s library, though she knew that probably wasn’t so. Small ice floes maybe, but surely not big ones…35

The sun rose inexorably in the sky and turned morning into midday once more, bringing with it the heat and stillness of the day before. As the wind died, Angelica spotted the smoke once more, although she almost missed it. She had been looking straight to the south, in the direction she had looked the day before, and it was with some shock that today she finally discovered it off to her right, to the west. Moreover, it seemed much closer, the column of smoke was thicker, and she could make out details in the column as what little wind there was shifted lazily.36

Nervously she realized she was almost there; almost at the source of the smoke and whoever was living around it. She had been crashing through the brush hap-hazardly; quickly she changed her pace to one of slow stealth, not wanting to set off any alarms. She bit her lip, and craftily tiptoed about, although she needn’t have bothered…37

The momentary solitude was quickly interrupted by the baying and yelping of dogs, who had sensed her presence in the area. Dismayed, Angelica heard them crashing through the brush, on their way to devour her, she was sure. Agonizingly, she looked for a tree or some other shelter where she might be safe from their attack, but there was nothing immediately at hand. Then, the sounds of breaking brush ceased, and there her two would-be attackers stood, in the clearing she was in. They were huge, and Angelica could see grotesque fangs protruding from their mouths.38

She had no experience with dogs, and Angelica was sure they would be on her in a flash, tearing her young body limb from limb. She attempted to scream, and she attempted to run, but she couldn’t do either, she was petrified with fear. And then…and then…the dogs ran up to her to begin their final assault and…started licking her hands, and her face.39

Angelica was still frozen to the spot at that moment, but then relief washed over her like a bucket of sun-heated water on bath day, and she collapsed on the ground, giggling hysterically as the dogs romped around her, obviously glad to have a new playmate. She rolled on the ground trying to escape the licks of the dogs, then abruptly sprang up and attempted to run, but the hounds bounded after and pulled her down once again. Laughing gaily, Angelica slapped at the dogs, telling them to “go away, go away.” But, in truth, she had never felt so loved in her life, and didn’t really want them to go away at all.40

Then, she heard a “harrumph”, from off to the side, and a voice said, “Come Feller, come Smeller, SIT!!” And the dogs left her and trotted off.41

Looking up, she saw a man standing at the side of the clearing; a boy really, although perhaps twice as old as she.42

The dogs settled at his feet, and the boy said, “A little girl, eh? Little girl, watcha doin’ out here in the wild all by yoreself?” 43

“Nuthin’,” said Angelica, in a plaintive sort of way.44

“I s’pose yore jest traveling through?” the boy said sarcastically.45

“I guess I’m…I’m kinda lost.”46

The boy looked toward the skies as if searching for something, and said, “You hear that God? She guesses she’s kinda lost!”47

The dogs had been one thing, and Angelica adored them now, but this acerbic-tongued boy was something else. Noting that he held a shotgun across his chest, Angelica viewed him with some trepidation. What were his intentions? Did he mean to shoot her down like a rabbit, and cut off one off her hands for a good-luck charm?48

But the boy just sat down on his haunches, and looked her over closely. Finally, he stood once again, and smiled at her easily.49

“Wal,” he said, “you sure-fire don’t look dangerous. You look lost and dirty, and hungry. You’d best follow me back to my house.” And with that, he just turned away and started walking, with Feller and Smeller close behind.50

Angelica hurriedly scrambled to her feet and gathered her few belongings that had been scattered in the “attack” of the dogs. Glancing up, she could just barely see the silhouette of the boy moving through the brush. “Wait”, she cried out, and scrambled after him as fast as she could. She had heard him say that she looked “hungry”, and that she was, for some good ole home cooking at least.51

Surprisingly, she caught up with him rather quickly, given his size and long stride.52

“Wal,” said the boy, “reckon yore of a mind to go with me after all! Follow close and don’t get lost now, ya hear, I ain’t rightly got time to be running ‘round looking for no lost little girl!” With that, he ducked his head, and walked even faster, and Angelica struggled to keep up.53

“He’s trying to lose me”, she thought angrily, moving almost at a run now. But, just as she was about to give up and slow down a little bit, they burst into a clearing. The “house” the boy had referred to turned out to be a ramshackle affair comprised of lumber scraps and tree limbs with no flooring. The roof was open in the middle to let out smoke for when they had to build the fire inside, during rainy and/or cold weather. The fire was burning outside for now, and was the source of the smoke that Angelica had spotted the day before. There were chickens running around the dirt yard, and off to the side, in a small makeshift barn constructed the same way as the house, was a milk cow. A woman was bent over stirring something in a pot that hung over the fire, and a little girl, smaller than Angelica, was running around the yard chasing the chickens.54

“Hey, ma, look what I got,” said the boy cheerfully.55

The woman looked up from the pot she was tending, and saw her son standing there with a strange little girl close behind him.56

The woman said, “My, my, what have we here?” There was something about the girl that made her feel a tad uneasy, something perhaps, that she had forgotten about a long time ago.57

“Well, bring her here, Jerry, and let me have a look,” said the woman.58

Jerry tried to grab Angelica by the hand, but she flung his hand off and walked up to the woman by herself.59

“Wooooooooo-eee, in-der-pendant little sort, ain’t we?” She was feeling even more uneasy now.60

When Angelica was by her side, she took her by her shoulders and held her at arm’s length, while she squatted in front of the child and gave her a “once-over”. What she saw did not ease the woman’s troubled mind. The little girl had eyes as green as young wheat, and a ready smile that beamed like the sunshine. She had a cord around her neck, and from that cord dangled a turquoise brooch and a green onyx crucifix, that was the same color as the girl’s eyes.61

“Jerry,” said the woman, “where did you find her at?”62

“Down by the crick,” said Jerry simply.63

“Down by the creek, down by the creek,” mused the woman…then, all at once, she remembered, and sank down on her knees in front of the little girl. When she was young, about this girl’s age, and living in the grass hut village of her father, she remembered the rantings of Red Sun, the village medicine-man. At night, when the men would sit around their fires and smoke their pipes, Red Sun would roam among them and sing songs in the clipped chant of the Indian. One of the songs he used to sing was about a little girl, a “bird of the heavens”, who would one day rise from the waters and lead all the nations into peace and plenteousness. This Angel, according to Red Sun’s chant, would have “eyes like the leaf, the smile of the grinning cat, and wear precious jewels.” Could this, might this, little girl be the Angel, the woman wondered?64

Almost breathless, the woman asked, “What is your name, little girl?”65

“Angelica,” she replied, and the woman threw back her head and smiled, relief washing over her like the summer rain.66

“Yes,” the woman said, “yesssssssssssssssss…” 67

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