Postmark Bayou Chene (38 page)

“Well, I still hang onto the notion that empty skiff started it all,” Fate said. “Bringing Drifter first, then the Stocketts following it.”

Murmurs for and against flowed around the room. He held up a hand for silence.

“But Val, you and Adam were right too. That letter started its own ruckus. Set me free is what it did, as sure as it broke the hold on Mame's mind. That letter told me there was a reason I couldn't squat flat on the bow of a boat like all you duck-legged boys I grew up with. It meant I could quit trying.”

Loyce sensed the toss of his head, but she couldn't see the dark hair—worn longer than most, the green eyes daring the listeners to doubt, and the smile that said he might be kidding after all. Put it all together, and any riverboat shyster wanted that face. It partly explained why everyone but Loyce wanted to believe in his schemes, hoped for him to be right this time. She couldn't see the things that drew other people to him, made them
want
to believe, even when they were making fun of his blowhard ways.

Like now. His confession about the letter was met with good-natured whoops and cries of “That's as gooda reason as any to quit!” Then the listeners shushed themselves and leaned forward to catch the rest of the story. Fate, used to an audience, didn't even acknowledge the brief interruption.

“That's right, that letter set me free. It told me why a big load of fish didn't make my heart sing like it does the rest of you knuckleheads. A big load meant twice as much work as a little load, and none of it brought in the kind of money I wanted to make. Wambly was the only person who understood. His ideas didn't always work, but they gave me some directions to think on.”

“Didn't
always
work?” Loyce spluttered. “You name me one that has worked, and that'll be one more than I ever heard about.”

“What about putting a motor in a boat and hauling fish in ice?” Fate shot back. “Seems to me that worked out pretty good for someone you thought wouldn't amount to much.”

“I never said you wouldn't amount—” she started but was drowned out by hoots and laughter from around the room.

“This is
my
story,” he said. “You're done with telling for now. But you're in it. In fact, you're smack in the middle of it. That's right. When Mame was setting us straight about that letter, I looked across the room and saw you standing in that dress—the one colored like a great blue heron just like your eyes. Of course you can't see it for yourself, so you'll have to take my word for it, even though that goes against your nature.”

Loyce swatted in his direction, but he dodged and clasped her hand in both of his, kissing her wrist before taking up his tale again. His voice dropped from teasing to tender.

“Anyway, I was already thinking how wrong it was for you to be standing on the edge again. I wished I could make things different for you.”

“You weren't!” Her voice rose up the scale to suspicion.

“I was too!” he protested. “You never believe I really want to help—you just blame me for anything you have a mind to. Always have. I'm used to it.”

He broke into a full laugh now and pulled her close to his chest. It wasn't a new embrace, no different from what they'd seen him do through the years. But now everyone in the room recognized a tenderness they hadn't noticed before, and for the first time ever Loyce didn't slap at him. Instead, she relaxed into his arms. The crowd jostled to hear what turn his story would take next.

“I was still looking at you while Mame read her letter to us. It started sinking in on me that I came by my differences honestly—not better or worse than anyone who wants to fish and mend nets and pick moss, just different.

“Like a flash of lightning, it hit me—I was free! I was free to follow my sights. I came from stock that looked across the world and took a chance in a new business. All I had to my credit was a butter churn and some other things that just missed their mark—not by much, though, and that was encouraging.”

“Encouraging for what?” Loyce's voice was still skeptical. “All I remember is you disappeared without a by-your-leave!”

“Well, can't you give a man time to get used to a new direction?” Fate sounded out. “The whole world had just opened to me. What was I going to make of it? Oh, I thought about trying to find out if Grandpa Michaud was still alive and what he did when our war interrupted his plans. Maybe I didn't want to know if he went broke, so as not to start off my new life discouraged. Or maybe it just seemed like it would slow me down too much. So much has happened since then, I can't rightly remember.

“What I did know was no new ideas would be coming to me on their own. I headed up to Atchafalaya Station, where other folks were looking outward for their future. The air was fairly buzzing around there with everybody making plans and building stuff to be ready for that railroad crossing. There was already a general store and a bakery making money from the railroad workers. Then there was an icehouse, moss gin, a sawmill. Oh, just every kind of thing you might want to ship out of the swamp. Mr. Bernard already had more than five hundred beehives! He's aiming to put honey from Atchafalaya bees on tables all over the country.

“I talked to everyone, not just Wambly. Before you know it, I had that icehouse owner believing we really could ship fresh fish. I got Wambly to working on finding me an old engine that I could mount in Sam's skiff.”

“That's when you came down here to show it off,” Loyce broke in. “Why didn't you tell me I had some part in all these plans, if it's the truth?”

“I meant to—that was as much the reason I came as to talk to Sam and Uncle Adam.” Fate's voice took on the old defensive tone. “But you was too het up to listen! All you wanted to do was tell me how it wasn't going to work, so I just kept it to myself until I could prove you wrong. Good thing Sam doesn't suffer from the suspicions like you do, or I wouldn't have had a partner.

“Sure, there was some trials and some blind bayous and more trials to follow. I know you heard about some of them. But you ain't heard what it felt like when I saw that first load of Atchafalaya buffalo head out for New York City! Knowing that I was the one who pulled all that together. Let me tell you right now, I never felt so proud pulling a net load of those same buffalo out of the water. Now, I admit I like to wore out the plank walk in front of that telegraph office waiting to hear if my fish showed up still fresh or sitting in warm slime and smelling up the depot.”

“Your notions do have a way of ending in a powerful stink,” Loyce offered.

“Well, not this time,” Fate went on. “They still had a bed of ice and were all sold the next day in New York. Problem was, the ice cost me so much I didn't make any money. The icehouse owner shipped his ice in from Lafayette—all he did was store it. It was clear and clean like water you drink. I didn't see any future in shipping fish that cost me more in ice than they brought in, so I stopped everything until I could figure it out. That's when I found out that people get mad if you take away something they got used to real quick even though it wasn't so long ago they didn't even know they wanted it.

“Those fish sellers in New York was wanting to pay me money. I was wanting to pass that money on along to Sam and the others, but that blame ice was going to ruin us all. Then I thought, why can't we make our own ice from river water? No one's gonna drink it. We just need to bed down the fish. It's the same water they spent their whole life swimming in.

“The icehouse man was willing to try it, but we had to find someone to put up the money for the equipment. Wambly knew some men in Baton Rouge willing to do that. Ooooh! Not men I want to spend a lot of time with, but they saw the promise in that idea. Once we took their money, though, I knew we couldn't miss the payback date or bad things was bound to happen.”

“That must be the men I saw you talking with at the dock café in Baton Rouge,” Val broke in. “I wouldn't want to run into them on a dark night, no.”

“And that's just what would have happened if I didn't make that payback date,” Fate said. “They woulda just knocked me in the head on a dark night and slipped me off a dock when no one was around to see the splash! For the next few months I was hopping. Trains left the station twice a day. If we missed one of those, it was a twelve-hour wait for the next one. Not a problem if you shipping moss, but fish and ice is different. If something broke at the ice plant, there was no putting off getting it fixed. I found out the fish dealers ordered more and paid sooner if I visited New York now and then to see what their end of it was like. I tell you, on some weeks it seemed like I needed to be three places at once.

“When I was getting so distracted that Dieu Cavalier nearly shot my head off because I forgot to pick up his ducks, I knew I had to make changes. First thing I did was turn my boat over to Sam to pick up and deliver the fish. That way I could stay around the ice plant to help keep it running smooth and catch a ride with the fish up to New York when I had to. That helped, but then I couldn't keep up with my post office box in Atchafalaya. Bills came in; money had to go out. Money came in and had to be accounted for.

“Just before I got wore to a frazzle, Wambly told me I ought to hire me some help—a bookkeeper. He said some classes at LSU was teaching people to do just that—keep accounts for business. That's how I found Rona, Rona Castille. I had my post office box changed to Baton Rouge so she could pick up my mail. She keeps my books in a corner of her husband's office. Once a month I take the train to Baton Rouge, and we go over what came in and what went out. It all makes sense when you see it laid out like that.”

“I heard you were seeing someone named Rona, but we all just thought she was a new sweetheart!” Adam broke in. “What do you know about that!”

Loyce, trying to remember if she had ever said anything aloud about Rona Castille, didn't say a word. She took for granted that her own expression didn't give away emotions that sighted people could read, but she wasn't sure. In no time at all the talk took off again, but she heard less and less as the events of the past two days caught up with her and she nodded off to sleep, still anchored by Fate and Drifter.

33

Once again, the
Golden Era'
s whistle drifted into the post office on a soft breeze, accompanied by the familiar smells of fish, tar, and cypress trees. So like that day more than a year ago when a misplaced letter and a near-dead dog showed up. Loyce breathed it all in, storing it up in her memory just the way she stored away her wedding dress in the traveling trunk at her feet. She knew how it was when someone left the Chene. Despite the best intentions, they usually never made it back.

Of course, it sounded like she and Fate would be traveling more than most. His new job with the Lockwood-Ash Motor Company would take them initially to Michigan. Then they would travel to river towns all over the country, where Fate would demonstrate the advantages of a gasoline boat to fishermen. He also would set up retail branches for Lockwood-Ash, probably in existing machine shops, where mechanics could service the engines for customers.

Fate had already helped Mary Ann's father set up his shop to sell replacement parts and provide repairs right there in Plaquemine. York was now looking into starting a branch of the family business on the Chene, what with all the fishermen setting their sights on gasoline boats. Leave it to York to seize on an opportunity when it was in plain sight, Loyce thought.

It took someone with vision—someone like Fate—to get something new and exciting started. She had to admit this notion of his had worked out better than the others. And now wherever his work or his fancy took them, she would listen to music in every theater or concert hall along the way. Who could tell? She might even find ways to join in making that music.

“Do you have everything now?” Roseanne broke into her thoughts and began fussing over the new traveling trunk and a tapestry duffel bag. “What am I saying?” Roseanne stopped to laugh at herself. “You'll have so much more to choose from out there than you could ever get here!”