Chapter 24

 

     Heath shook his head and smiled as he looked up at the sign hanging over the cafe’s entrance.  A Little Bit Of Heaven.

 

     The cowboy held the screen door open for Randall.  The boy stopped just as he crossed the threshold. Heath sensed the child’s nervousness and understood the reasons behind it.  When you grow up poor so many things others take for granted, like dining in a cafe, are beyond your every day experiences.  When given the opportunity to partake in some of life’s simple pleasures you’re not always certain how to act or what to say, which can cause your stomach to churn as you pray you don’t embarrass yourself or those around you.

 

     Because it was just a few minutes past twelve the cafe was full save for one table.  When all eyes turned to Heath and Randall, Heath didn’t give it a second thought.  He was the stranger Doctor Wallace had brought in four days ago, no doubt everyone was curious as to who he was and where he’d come from. When Randall leaned into Heath’s legs as if unnerved by all the attention the cowboy reached down and

took the boy’s hand.

 

     “Come on, Randall.  We’ll go sit at that table back there.”

 

     “Maybe I shouldn’t be in here, Morgan.  I...I ain’t never been in a cafe before and I’m not wearing shoes.”

 

     “And exactly what does wearing shoes have to do with being hungry?”

 

     “Well...nothin’ I guess.  Only maybe it ain’t proper like.”

 

     “Randall, you’re too young to be frettin’ over what is and isn’t proper.  We’re hard working men and we need to eat.  Right?”

 

     Randall couldn’t help but return Heath’s grin. 

 

“Right.”

 

     Heath led the boy to the empty table.  As he passed three men sitting at a table in the center of the room he heard a sneered,  “I didn’t know they were lettin’ bastards eat in here now.”

 

     Even after all these years the words still cut right to his heart. Heath felt his face burn red.

 

     How could they know?  How could they know anything about me?  I left that all behind.  I left everything about myself behind the day I rode off the ranch.

 

     Before Heath could start the first fistfight that A Little Bit Of Heaven had ever witnessed, one of the man’s buddies spoke up.

 

     “Maybe that’s Randall’s daddy, comin’ back to give him an honest name.  Say, if a bastard’s daddy shows up outta the blue, does that not make him a bastard anymore?”
     Heath saw Randall’s head drop to his chest.  By the tight set of the boy’s shoulders he knew the child was trying hard not to cry.  Just as Heath was about to pounce on the men a frying pan slammed in the center of their table.  The troublemakers and Heath looked up to see Tess.

 

     “This here cafe is called A Little Bit Of Heaven for a reason, gentlemen. Like God’s house, all who enter are welcome.  Even the likes of you three, though Lord knows ya’all would try the patience of a saint.  You should be ashamed of yourselves and your cruel words.  The Bible says God loves fools and little children, though with fools like you a woman would have to wonder why. Now you git.  Go on...git your hides right on outta here.”

 

     “Aw, Tess, we didn’t mean nothin’ by it.   We was just funnin’ with the boy is all.”

 

     “Well the next time you wanna ‘fun’ with someone, Harry, you see old Tess first and she’ll hit you right up side the head with this here fryin’ pan in order to knock some sense in to that empty skull a’ yours.”  Tess pointed to the door.  “Now go!   Git on outta here ‘fore you give me cause to prove I helped Joltin’ Joe DiMaggio hit a home run right outta Yankee Stadium!”

 

     The men pushed back their chairs and bolted for the door.  They knew Tess well enough to know she didn’t make idle threats.  Randall watched with wide eyes, then beckoned Heath to bend down.  He cupped his hands around Heath’s ear and whispered, “Sometimes Tess says stuff a fella’ just don’t understand, but no one messes with her, that’s for sure.”

 

     Heath nodded.  “I can see that.”

 

     Tess glared at the rest of her patrons, daring anyone else to comment about Randall’s presence.  When nothing more was said she turned and smiled.

 

     “Hello, Randall.  Mr. Morgan Lee.  Now why don’t you boys have a seat right over there.  Ole’ Tess will be right with you.”

 

     Heath nodded his thanks and led the boy to the empty table that sat two.

 

     Randall’s eyes never stopped roaming the interior of the cafe, but then neither did Heath’s.  The walls were pale blue with white, fluffy clouds painted on them.  Angels dressed in long, flowing white robes with gold trim floated amongst the clouds.  Some carried harps, some carried Bibles, some carried children, and some seemed to be beckoning to the cafe’s patrons with outstretched hands.  Gold curtains hung at the cafe’s three windows, and every table was fitted with a gold cloth giving one the impression that you were indeed, in a little bit of Heaven.

 

     Randall pointed to the wall above his head.  “I didn’t know there were black angels.”

     Heath looked up.  Sure enough some of the angels were black, while others were white, while some looked to be Mexican, others American Indian, and others oriental. 

 

     “I reckon angels come in all colors, Randall.”

 

     “They sure do,” Tess said as she came to take their order. “Every color you can think of, Randall.”

 

     “I’m glad to hear that, Tess, ‘cause I’m pretty sure my friend Orra would like to be an angel someday.  She sure does cotton to singin’ hymns and quotin’ the Bible all the day-long.  I guess that would make her a good angel, huh?”

 

Tess cupped the boy’s chin and looked into his eyes. “It sure will, baby.  It surely will.” 

 

     The woman started scribbling on her pad.  “All right, boys, Tess is gonna start you both off with a nice tall glass of cold milk.  Then she’ll bring you each a bowl of her homemade chicken dumpling soup.  Then--”

 

     “Uh...Tess,”  Heath interrupted.

 

     “Yes?”

     “Would you mind if we take a look at some menus?”

 

     “Menus?  Why, Mr. Morgan Lee, you don’t need no menu.  You’ll eat what Tess puts in front of you.  Have you forgotten you’re supposed to be home in bed as it is?”

 

     “No, ma’am, but--”

 

     “I don’t wanna hear no buts.  You just sit here and keep Randall company until I get back.”  The woman walked away muttering, “Menus.  Don’t that beat all?  Menus. Hummmf!  He must think I’m runnin’ some kinda help-yourself, all-you-can-eat, fish-fry-on-Friday-nights smorgasbord here.”

 

     Randall hunkered low to the table and giggled.  “See what I mean?  Tess says some down right funny things.”

 

     “Yeah, Randall, I’m beginning to see that more and more.”

 

     Heath sat there with the boy and waited for Tess to return.  He was a bit put out by the whole thing.  After all, if he was paying for his meal he preferred to make his own food choices.  Lordy, but did this woman remind him of Victoria Barkley. 

 

     Within five minutes time a feast was carried out to Heath and his helper.  Cold glasses of milk, hot chicken soup, and plates piled high with roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, carrots, and dinner rolls were set before them.  Randall’s eyes could barely take in all the food.

 

     “Is it a holiday or something, Tess?”

     “No, baby, no holiday.  Just a special day now that Mr. Morgan Lee brought you in here to eat some of Tess’s good home cookin’.  Now you boys clean your plates till there ain’t a morsel left, then Tess will bring you both dessert.”

 

     “Do I get to chose that?”  Heath asked with a hint of teasing to his tone.

 

     “No,” Tess replied.  “But don’t you worry none, Mr. Morgan Lee.  You’ll like the dessert just fine.”

 

     Heath didn’t doubt that he would.  He was amazed that once again, the woman had managed to put all of his favorite foods in front of him.  Her roast beef was as tender as Silas’s, and her potatoes were light and fluffy, too, just like the ones Silas whipped for Sunday dinner.

 

     Randall and Heath were too busy eating to exchange any words. Tess praised them both for cleaning their plates when she came back to pick up the dirty dishes.

 

     “Randall, I’m glad to see you liked Tess’s cookin’.”

 

     “Yes, ma’am.  It was wonderful!”

 

     “And, Mr. Morgan Lee, I’m glad to see you finished every bite.  We’ll fatten you up yet before you leave Heaven.  You’re too skinny.  Just skin and bones is all there is to ya’.  And Tess would know ‘cause she helped give you a bath.”

 

     Heath felt the color rise to his cheeks.  Tess threw back her head and laughed as she put a dish of apple pie in front of him.

 

“Oh, but you are a shy one.  The ladies find that attractive in a man, you know.”

 

     Heath wouldn’t meet Tess’s eyes as he took his first bite of dessert.

 

     “No, ma’am, I wouldn’t know.”

 

     “No special woman in your life, Mr. Morgan Lee?”

 

     “Not right now.”

 

     “Hummmf.  Well, ole’ Tess will have to do something about that.  Yes, she surely will.  You look like the kinda man who needs a good woman to take care of him.”

 

     Heath didn’t deem that comment worthy of an answer and was glad when Tess walked away.  He wasn’t too pleased to hear her mumbling women’s names, but decided not to fret over it.  He wasn’t going to be in Heaven long enough for any matchmaking to take place on his behalf.

 

     The apple pie tasted exactly like the pie Heath’s mother had made. Heath didn’t protest when Tess brought him a second piece as well as a cup of black coffee.  She didn’t ask him if he took his coffee black, but like a lot of other things about him, she just seemed to know.  

 

     Or more than likely she doesn’t care, Heath thought, with a good dose of humor as the formidable woman walked away.

 

     Randall sat quietly staring at the table cloth while Heath finished his dessert. Now that the meal was coming to an end the boy’s excitement over eating in a cafe appeared to have left him. 

 

     “Penny for your thoughts?”

 

     Randall looked up.  “Huh?”

     “I said, penny for your thoughts.”

 

     “What’s that mean?”

     “Well, whenever I get real quiet like you are now my moth...someone will say ‘penny for your thoughts.’  It’s an expression.  It’s a way of one person inviting another person to share what’s on their mind.”

 

     “Oh.”

 

     When the boy said no more Heath let the subject drop.   If anyone had respect for the comfort of long silences it was Heath Barkley.

 

     Heath had just eaten his last bite of pie when Randall spoke.  The boy looked at him through thick blond lashes with his head half bent toward the table.

     “Morgan?”

 

     “Yeah?”

 

     “I...well...I understand if you don’t want to be my friend no more.”

     “And just why wouldn’t I want to be your friend?”

     “Because...because of what Harry and the others said.  Because...because of what they called me.”

     “I don’t put any stock in what a man like Harry says.”

 

     “But it’s true.  I am what he called me.  A...” the boy dropped his voice to a whisper.  “A bastard.”

 

     Once again Heath felt the old anger and shame rise within him. 

 

     “Randall, when I look at you all I see is a hard working young man who I’m proud to call my friend.”

 

     “But do you know what that word means?”

 

     “Bastard?”

 

     “Yeah.”

 

     “Yes, I know what it means.  Nonetheless, I don’t pick my friends based on who their father is or where he’s at.  Makes no difference to me one way or the other.”

 

     Randall grinned with delight.  And in that grin Heath saw the boy he had been reflected back at him.  He knew the pleased look on Randall’s face came from not being rejected, from not being told his new friend wanted no part of him.  When you’re the town bastard you get used to having friendships pulled out from under you as soon as your buddy’s parents find out your mother’s an unwed woman.

 

     The boy played with his fork, relaxed now that he knew Heath wasn’t going to judge him for something beyond his control.

 

     “My father’s a great man, you know.  Real brave.  My ma says so.  I think he fought in the Indian Wars with General  Custer. That’s why he can’t be here with me now.  He’s in the Army. Works as a scout.  But someday...someday when he can, he’ll come back and live with me and Ma.”

 

     “I’m sure he will, son,” Heath said. 

 

     The blond man sat there mulling over the Randall’s words.  How odd it was that they echoed his own words when he was about the same age.  His father was a great man.  His father was a brave man who couldn’t be with them because he was off doing something far more important than providing for his son.  But someday...someday his father would come back to him.

 

     Well, for Heath Barkley that day had never come, and he doubted it would come for Randall Becker either.  But better to leave the boy with his dreams.  In a few more years Randall would come to realize that’s all they were, dreams.  Dreams of a man he’d never meet.  Dreams of a man who wasn’t nearly as noble and brave as an eight year old child wanted him to be.

 

     Heath shook the dark thoughts from his mind.  So far being Morgan Lee wasn’t much different from being Heath Barkley.  Boy howdy, would he be glad when the day came that he could ride out of Heaven.

 

     “Come on, Randall.”  The cowboy stood. “It’s almost one and time for us to get back to work.  I’ll pay Tess for our meal, then we’ll be on our way.”

 

     Tess looked up from behind the counter where she was tallying figures in a ledger book.

 

     “Pay?  You ain’t gonna pay, Mr. Morgan Lee.”

 

     “But--”

 

     “I promised Doctor Wallace I’d look after you.  You shoulda’ been takin’ that meal in bed today. So you don’t owe me nothin.’  You and Randall just get on outta here now.”

 

     “Look, Tess, I don’t take charity.”

 

     “And I ain’t offerin’ you charity.  I’m offerin’ you three square meals a day like the doctor said I should.  Whether you eat them at the doctor’s home, or here at A Little Bit Of Heaven, don’t make no difference to me.  Tess’s only job is to get you strong and healthy again.  Now go on with you, Mr. Morgan Lee, and don’t be arguin’ with me.  If you don’t do as I say I’ll put a needle in your arm and feed you through a tube.”

 

     Heath looked at Randall who shrugged his shoulders.  Evidently this was another one of Tess’s odd sayings.  Heath couldn’t imagine how such a thing would work, but by the look in the woman’s eyes he knew he didn’t want to give her reason to carry out that threat.

 

     “All right, Tess, Randall and I will be on our way.  Thanks for the meal.”

 

     “You’re welcome.  And I expect to see your skinny hide at the dinner table tonight, you got that?”

 

     “Yes, ma’am.  I got it.”

 

     Randall took Heath’s hand again as the two walked back to the livery stable.  “Ain’t Tess a corker, Morgan?”

     “Boy howdy, Randall, I’d have to say she is.”  Heath shook his head and mumbled,  “Feeding a person through a tube.  Whoever heard of such a thing?”

 

     Before the cowboy had time to contemplate that further he and Randall were hard at work.

         
           _________________________________________

 

 

     At four o’clock that afternoon Jasper Thurmond returned to the livery stable.  He eyed Heath’s work, then whistled with appreciation.

 

     “Mr. Lee, I’d say I’m getting more than my money’s worth out of you.  You’re hired.”

 

     “Thank you, sir.”

     Randall ran over and took Jasper’s hand.  “How’s Mrs. Thurmond feelin’?”

 

Heath could see the fear behind the old man’s smile.  “She’s fine, son. Just fine. Thank you for askin’.”

     “And what about Benji and Paul?  How are they?”

 

     Jasper looked at Heath.  “Benji and Paul are two of my grandsons.”

 

     “They’re my best friends, Morgan.  Well, them and you.  They’re like my brothers.   Do you have any brothers?”

     Pushing all thoughts of his siblings aside Heath answered, “No.  No, Randall, I don’t.

 

     “Me either.  Or sisters.  So I pretend Benji and Paul are my brothers.  They don’t mind, do they, Mr. Thurmond?”

 

     “No, Randall, I don’t reckon they mind a bit.”

 

     “So how are they?”

     “They’re sick, son.  They’re...sick.”

 

     “But they’ll get better, won’t they?”

 

     “Sure, Randall.”  The old man refused to meet the boy’s trusting gaze.  “Sure. They’ll get better.”

 

     Mr. Thurmond handed Heath the three dollars he owed him.  “You come back tomorrow morning, Mr. Lee.  Things aren’t...things aren’t so good at home so I’d be much obliged if you’d do the work we agreed upon until the worst of this epidemic has passed.”

 

     “I’ll be happy, too.  Thank you.”

 

     After Mr. Thurmond left Heath picked up his tools while Randall saw to Charger’s needs.  When both boy and man declared their working day over Heath took Randall’s hand and led him down the street.

 

     “Where we goin’, Morgan?”

     “To the general store.”

 

     “How come?”

 

     “I told you earlier that I owed you something for the good care you’ve been giving Charger, and for helping me today.  Since Tess wouldn’t let me buy you lunch I still have an obligation to you.”

     The child looked up with puzzlement etching his features, but when Heath said nothing further Randall kept his questions to himself.

 

     The visit to the general store lasted thirty minutes.  Heath was relieved to find this was one establishment Tess didn’t own.  The last thing he needed was her hovering over him while he saw to Randall’s needs.  When the pair left the store Randall was wearing new trousers, a new shirt, and a pair of tan boots almost identical to Heath’s.  The boy carried a wrapped package under one arm that held an additional shirt and pair of trousers.  In Heath’s arms was a wooden crate filled with everything from flour, to sugar, to coffee, to fruit, to canned goods, to penny candies.  On his head was the only thing he’d purchased for himself, a new cowboy hat exactly like the one he’d lost in the desert.

 

     “Seems like I didn’t do enough work for all you bought, Morgan,” Randall commented as he led Heath toward his home.

 

     “Well now, I don’t see it quite that way.”

 

     “My ma might not like it.  We don’t take charity, you know.”

     “I know.  And don’t you worry about your ma.  I’ll make it right with her.”

 

     Randall ran ahead of Heath, chewing on a licorice stick.  When he came to a tiny, run down house with weathered boards in bad need of paint he burst in the front door.    

 

     “Ma!  Ma!  You’ll never guess what!”

 

     Heath followed the boy. The front room was both living room and kitchen. The place was tidy, but small.  He could see a door that led out to the backyard, and another door that led to a bedroom.

 

     A young woman barely out of her teens lay on a cot in the center of the room.  Her pale orange hair fell in thick waves to the middle of her back; random strands were stuck to the sheen of perspiration dotting her forehead.  A black woman who had to be to seventy if she was a day was tending the ill woman.

 

     The sick woman’s waxy face was stained ruby with fever, making her freckles hard to see.  When she coughed Heath cringed.  He knew exactly what was wrong with her.  As memories of the Stockton graveyard came to the front of his mind all he wanted to do was set the crate down and flee.

 

     Randall didn’t seem to sense the severity of his mother’s illness.  He walked over to her cot and bent to kiss her.

 

“Hi, Ma.”

 

     The woman’s smile broadcast her enormous love for her child.  When she spoke her voice was raspy and harsh, just like Heath recalled his being only a few weeks ago.

 

     “Hi, sweetheart.  How was your day?”

     “Just dandy.  I made me a new friend.”

 

     “You did?”

     “Yep.”  Randall beckoned Heath in from the shadow of the front door. “This here’s Morgan Lee. And a’ fore you ask him, no, he ain’t related to the General Robert E. Lee that Tess knew. But he’s stayin’ with Tess at Doc Wallace’s.”

 

     Randall’s mother tried to sit up straighter against her pillows.  “You must be the man Doc Wallace found a few days back.”

 

     “Yes, ma’am.”

 

     “Morgan, this is my ma, Josie Becker. Her real name is Josette.  Josie’s just her nickname. Don’t you think Josette is about the prettiest name you ever heard?”

     “Oh, Randall, don’t put our guest on the spot like that.”

 

     “That’s okay, ma’am.  The boy’s right.  It is a pretty name.”

     “Well thank you, Mr. Lee.”

 

     “Morgan.  Please call me Morgan.”

 

     “Only if you’ll call me Josie.”

     “All right.  Josie it is.”

 

     Randall ran over to the black woman who was filling a pan with fresh water from the pump.  To all intents and purposes the old woman acted as though she wasn’t even aware Randall and Heath were in the room.

 

     “And this here’s Orra.  She’s Ma’s friend from ages and ages ago.”

 

     The skinny old black woman turned to greet Heath.  “I be happy to meet you, Mr. Lee.  Mighty happy.”

 

     “Nice to meet you, too, Miss Orra.”

 

      Josie took notice of her son’s apparel for the first time since he’d walked in the door.

 

“Randall, where’d you get those clothes?”

 

     “Morgan bought ‘em for me, Ma.”  The boy held up the package he still had tucked under his arm.  “And he bought me an extra set, too.  And food.  He bought food.”

 

     At the mention of food Heath walked the crate into the kitchen area and set it on the counter.  Josie gathered all her strength and tried to sound firm.  Fire flashed from the twenty-two year old’s blue eyes.

 

     “I don’t know what Randall’s told you about us, Mr. Lee, but we don’t need your sympathy, or your charity.”

 

     “But, Ma--”

 

     “Randall, that’s enough.  I won’t have any back talk.”

 

     The boy hung his head; embarrassed to be bawled out in front of his new friend.  “Yes, Ma.”

 

     “Look, mMa’am--”

     “My name’s not ma’am.  It’s Josie Becker. Miss Josie Becker,” the sick woman emphasized as though to test Heath’s character.  The cowboy didn’t even blink.

 

     “Look, Miss Becker, I didn’t buy Randall the clothes or bring the food out of sympathy or charity either one.  Truth of the matter is Randall’s been taking excellent care of my horse while I’ve been laid up, and then today Mr. Thurmond hired me on at the livery to do some carpentry work.  Randall worked with me all day and I felt it was my obligation to pay him for the hours he put in.”

 

     The woman turned to her son.    “Is that true, Randall?  Did you work with Mr. Lee today?”

     “Yes, Ma. All day long.  And you know what?”

 

     “What?”

 

     “We even ate lunch at Tess’s place.  At A Little Bit Of Heaven.  Oh, Ma, it was wonderful.  The only thing that woulda’ made it better was if you and Orra could have eatin’ there with us.”

 

     The black woman looked at Randall from where she was unpacking the crate.  Her words made Heath think of Hannah.

 

     “Oh go on with you, boy, talkin’ foolishness like that.  Go on with you now.”

 

     “No, really, Orra, we did eat there.  Didn’t we, Morgan?”

     “We sure did.”

     “And Ma, Morgan said it was okay if I call him by his first name.  Is that all right with you?”

 

     Heath could see the woman was quickly tiring.  She fell back into her pillows.

 

“Sure, son.  That’s fine with me as long as Mr. Lee said it’s okay.”

 

     When Josie was wracked by a coughing spasm that left Randall wide-eyed with fear.   Orra shoved a dishpan into his hands.

 

     “Randall, you git on outside and pick the beans for supper, then fill the wood box.  Go on, now.  Hurry along.”

 

     “But--”

 

     Heath placed a hand on the boy’s back.  “Come on, Randall.  Let Orra tend to your ma.  I’ll help you with your chores.”

 

     Josie flashed Heath as much of a grateful smile as she could muster.  To the sounds of her harsh coughs Heath and Randall left the house.

 

     A healthy garden sprouted in Josie’s back yard just like the garden Heath’s mother had in Strawberry.  The vegetables they’d harvested during the summer months got them through many a long lean winter, just like Heath was certain this garden did for Josie Becker and her boy.

 

     Randall and Heath were sitting on the back steps snapping beans when they heard Orra’s cry.   

 

     “Miss Josie!  Miss Josie!  Oh, Miss Josie, you gots to breathe!  You gots to breathe!”

 

     Heath threw the beans in his hand aside and raced for the house, Randall at his heels.  As soon as Heath entered the kitchen he could tell Josie was much worse than she had been just a short time ago.  He recalled one of the first days of his illness and how one minute it seemed like Victoria was leaving his room to get him lunch, and the next minute Jarrod and Nick were restraining him while trying to feed him.  He’d later been told his fever had climbed dangerously high with a speed Victoria had never seen before in all her years of tending sick children.

 

     Josie’s body twisted and withered on the small cot as she tried to draw in air.  Her face burned Heath’s hand.  He leaned her over his knees like he vaguely remembered his brothers doing to him and used his palm to thrust between her shoulder blades.  Heath blocked out Orra’s hysterical screams of, “Miss Josie!  Miss Josie!”  and Randall’s frightened cries of “Ma!  Ma!”  as he worked to get the woman air.  She finally coughed hard three times, then drew in a deep breath before collapsing against Heath’s legs.  He turned Josie and scooped the unconscious woman up in his arms as easily as if she was Randall.

 

     “Where’s the doctor working out of?”

     “The church,” Orra answered. “He’s got most a’ the sick people there.  But you just leave Miss Josie be.  She won’t be welcome.”

 

     “Welcome or not, that’s where she’s goin’.”