The Voice of Wild Places, page 18
Watt reached into his pocket and took out the letter he’d been tasked with delivering in person. The reason they had to come here. “Here, this will explain everything.” He passed over the envelope addressed to Senhor Galvão in Nina’s writing, and watched as the man opened it right there at the table. It had been too important, she said, to risk in the mail.
Senhor Galvão read the letter. And he read it again. Watt watched as the man’s eyes flicked across the paper from top to bottom, then up again. Cornelius threw him a curious look, but said nothing. Watt had previously told Cornelius the letter was a personal matter he couldn’t discuss, but that was a lie. And Watt knew he’d made a mistake in not telling him the truth when Senhor Galvão lifted his head and fixed his gaze on Cornelius.
But how could Watt have told him the truth, when he didn’t believe it? He didn’t believe that Cornelius was—
“You are the one he was hoping for, I think.”
Cornelius’ brow raised and he glanced at Watt, who had long since burst into flames. Cornelius turned his attention back to Senhor Galvão and said, “Excuse me?”
Senhor Galvão shook his head minutely and said, “The Colonel was a smart man, and a determined one. He wanted to go and see that stone tower and the waterfall the day Roberto told him about it. The perfect location, he said. And now—”
“Mrs. Fawcett said it was important to him, this place. She said it was important for the quest,” Watt said, emphasizing the second half of his sentiment. Cornelius looked at him askance, and Watt cursed internally. He’d hoped this wouldn’t come up, but damn it. There was no point in skirting around it now, he’d just have to explain later. Severino watched the proceedings carefully, interest piqued.
Senhor Galvão nodded, and he stared at Cornelius anew. He said, “There is something different about you.” He tapped the table with his finger, like he was marking the spot on a map. “I think you shall find the truth.”
Cornelius’ lip twitched, and Watt expected this was the moment he’d finally explode. He simply said, “Thank you.”
Senhor Galvão considered Severino next, and their eyes locked for several moments before he spoke. “You work with Joaquim da Silva, yes?”
Severino nodded. “Yes, I do.”
“What do you make of his latest project?” Senhor Galvão asked. “Do you think that could be the city the Colonel was looking for?”
Severino parsed his thoughts before answering in a slow and measured fashion. “There is much to be learned in the heart of Brazil, it is true many ancient peoples lived in this area. I can not say if it is the place Fawcett was looking for, but that does not make it any less significant.” Severino picked up his drink, cachaca, a dark and sweet liquor reminiscent of rum which they all had been served. Watt noted that Cornelius hadn’t touched his, though. To be more correct, he’d been playing with his glass, turning it and moving it around, but he hadn’t taken a sip.
“And what are you doing, Senhor Antunes?” Senhor Galvão gestured between Watt and Cornelius, ignoring Antônio entirely. “Do you plan on going with them and abandoning your team?”
Severino stilled, but only for a second. He took a sip of his drink, then set it back down. He smiled and said, “I am merely a guide.”
It wasn’t really an answer, but Senhor Galvão smiled in response. An entire unsaid conversation occurred between them, and it didn’t feel like a good one. Cornelius and Watt exchanged a look, but neither said anything. Watt glanced over at Antônio, who watched the proceedings with a mild frown of disinterest. Thankfully, the conversation moved on after that. They drank and smoked, discussing their trip and what they thought of the places they’d been so far. Cornelius asked about the ranch and its origins, and soon they were discussing the cattle industry in Mato Grosso. Which is when Cornelius stirred up trouble.
He said, “There’s quite the smuggling problem in Mato Grosso, isn’t there? Of cattle, I mean.”
Senhor Galvão smiled, an echo of the same one he’d given Severino. Malignant and vague. He said, “You are a smart man, aren’t you?”
“No. Too curious for my own good. One must be aware of the snakes residing in the pit before jumping in, after all. Besides, it’s not like the ranchers have much choice, do they? Not even America deals in taxes and tariffs this outrageous.” He scoffed and shook his head, like the situation truly pained him.
Senhor Galvão studied him before speaking. Amicably, he said, “Some do what they must to survive, but it gives the rest of us a bad name.”
“I’m sure they do,” Cornelius said.
When they turned in for the night, Watt felt like he’d been swimming in lead. They laid out their bedrolls on the floor of the main space, the bedroom had two rickety cots that no one wanted to claim. Watt laid between Cornelius and Severino, while Antônio slept on the other side of Severino. Cornelius and Antônio fell asleep quickly, but Severino did not. He hardly moved, his body tense and spine rigid.
Watt asked, “Are you alright, Severino?”
Severino rolled over and stared at Watt. He whispered, “I think we should leave at first light.”
Watt chewed on the inside of his bottom lip, pondering his words and their evening. There had been something distinctly off about the whole affair. While Senhor Galvão was an older man, he seemed perfectly capable. Why hadn’t he gone looking for Fawcett if they truly had been such good friends? He definitely seemed to know more than he was letting on, and there was that glint in his eye that Watt had seen too many times before.
Eventually Watt said, “I trust your judgment.”
Severino sighed. “If only you did sooner.”
Brave Enough
May 17th, 1930
Cornelius woke to the sounds of his companions packing. “What’s going on?” He asked, bleary eyed and slow as he fumbled for his glasses.
“We’re leaving,” Watt said, offering them to him.
Cornelius quickly took them and slid them on, his fatigue clearing in a rush. “What? Why?”
Watt glanced at Severino, who said, “I think it’s best we continue on our journey.”
They both looked as if they hadn’t slept a wink last night, and Cornelius felt the same even though he didn't remember waking at all. “But I—”
“Cornelius,” Watt said softly. “Antônio is getting the mules ready.”
“Okay.” Cornelius sighed. “Okay, give me a moment.”
Cornelius didn’t bother changing his clothes, and it didn’t appear the other men had either. He hadn’t unpacked much last night, so it didn’t take long for him to get ready to go. After relieving himself he stuffed his .38 in his belt, then slung his pack on his back. He groaned a little beneath its weight, unable to restrain the noise. Thankfully no one seemed to notice. He’d been looking forward to resting his leg for a few days, but he trusted in Watt and Severino. They were out the door within minutes. Dawn was merely a threat on the horizon, and the morning was remarkably quiet. The moon, reduced to its last quarter, was diminishing in the west. Even the birds only had the smallest bit to say, crying only every and now then. Enough to be heard, but not located.
They met Antônio at the lean to, where he had the mules all tacked up and ready to go. As Cornelius burdened his beast with gear, he ran the events of last night through his mind over and over. He winced, remembering his own part in things. He probably shouldn’t have antagonized a man that was likely a smuggler, despite the man’s protests otherwise. He was too sharp and ambitious, too well off in an area where people struggled if they didn’t pay off the tax man. But maybe he truly wasn’t, and Cornelius had offended him. Oh, and there was that whole damn business with Watt and Nina and the mysterious letter, and the bizarre way Galvão had looked at him after that.
“Zut alors,” Cornelius swore under his breath, and mounted his mule.
Antônio led the way. Cornelius’ walked between Severino and Watt, the same single file formation and order they usually took when coming across unfamiliar and unsteady ground. They slipped across the yard and away from the main house, towards the surrounding untamed bush in a north easterly direction. The ground was wet, but it was only grass and dirt. Nothing they couldn't handle.
“Leaving so soon, amigos?” Hermenegildo Galvão asked.
Cornelius turned abruptly in his seat and was subsequently met with a view of Watt’s broad shoulders, and his horse’s ass. Watt had an arm raised, his revolver in hand. Over his shoulder, Cornelius could see Senhor Galvão standing by the palm tree at the corner of the house, a rifle slung over his shoulder and his hand on the muzzle of the gun. He beheld a non threatening posture and a smile that seemed … pitying, or condescending. Cornelius couldn’t tell which.
In Portuguese, Senhor Galvão said, “You can put the gun down, soldier. I heard a racket and came to see what was what.”
Cornelius glanced back at Severino, who was stiff as a board with a hand on his own gun. He hadn’t unholstered it yet, though. Antônio frowned, watching the whole affair. Senhor Galvão slowly turned, showing his back to Watt as he rested his rifle against the tree trunk. Watt didn’t relax, in fact when Senhor Galvão raised his hands in surrender, Watt stiffened further.
“I hope my hospitality has not offended you,” Senhor Galvão said, his brows pinching in confusion.
“Watt,” Severino said quietly. “Put down the gun.”
A few seconds passed, then Watt did as he was asked. He slowly holstered it, and Senhor Galvão smiled. Severino called, “We are eager to reach the Post, and are greatly rested. We did not want to impose on you any more than we already have.”
“Nonsense, it is no trouble.” Senhor Galvão approached, waving a hand. He closed the distance between them. “But I understand, the Amazon waits for no one. Tell me, will you visit on your way back through?” He directed this last bit at Cornelius and Watt.
Watt said nothing, so Cornelius said, “Of course.”
Senhor Galvão extended a hand to Cornelius first, staring him square in the eye as they shook. He said, “I want to hear all about your adventure, and what you find. I shall live through you, so to speak.”
Cornelius nodded, shaking with as much firm pressure as he’d received. “I look forward to it, senhor.”
They said farewell and turned their back on Hermenegildo Galvão. Soon the estancia became nothing but a distant unsettling memory, but Cornelius still felt eyes on him. The feeling didn’t go away, no matter how many miles they put behind them. No one spoke, not until Watt called for a break in the early afternoon. He dismounted and said, “I’ve got to stop.”
Severino glanced back at the way they’d come, then nodded. “Okay.”
Cornelius was grateful for the reprieve, but he didn’t want to stop for long. His leg ached fiercely, and he had a feeling that it would hurt thrice as much after getting a taste of rest. He dismounted and stretched his leg out, then took a long drink of water from his canteen. He looked between Watt, Severino, and Antônio as they did the same. Tension was thick between them, and Cornelius couldn’t take it any more.
To Watt, he said, “Are you going to tell me what the fuck that was all about?”
Severino’s thick eyebrows flew up, and Antônio watched on with a mild expression of interest. Watt’s cheeks flushed and he said, “Happy to, right after you explain why you thought goading a smuggler was a brilliant idea.”
“I wasn’t goading him, I—” Cornelius gestured vaguely. Honestly, he didn’t know what the hell had gotten into him last night. He’d seen a fire, and wanted to pour gasoline on it. He couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol, for he hadn’t drank any. Maybe it’d been better if he had.
Watt sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Well, he certainly didn’t like it.” He shifted his attention to Severino and said, “I’m sorry. We should have listened to you. It—it wasn’t worth it.”
Cornelius folded his arms tight across his chest and cut in before Severino could respond. He said, “Kind of late to say that now. What was in the letter, Watt?”
Watt went to scratch at his neck, then thought better of it and dropped his hand. “I—” He shook his head, mouth opening and closing a few times. This was ridiculous, they were supposed to be a team, a team that was on the same page. Cornelius had a sudden urge to hit Watt, and it was so fierce that he had to turn away.
He said, “Forget it,” and stalked off a short ways, lighting a cigarette as he went.
Damn Watt for keeping secrets. Damn Severino for being right, and damn Antônio for … well. Cornelius didn’t know what for, but fuck it all. He was tired and sore, and he wasn’t too proud to realize he was being an asshole, had been for some time now. He allowed his anger to rage until the cigarette burnt out, then he stubbed the stick against his boot and jammed the butt into his pocket. He drew in a great breath, then made the short trip back to his companions. They were all taking a smoke break of their own, and Watt gently tapped out his pipe as Cornelius approached.
Watt frowned, and it looked as if words were on the tip of his tongue. But a couple of moments passed, and he said nothing.
Cornelius shifted his gaze to Severino and Antônio. In Portuguese, he asked, “Do you think he will follow us?”
Severino puffed on his pipe, then sighed and replied in kind. “I don’t know. He has no claim to the land Joaquim is working, but …”
Antônio said, “When has that stopped men?”
Cornelius removed his glasses and ran a hand over his face. After recomposing himself, he looked between Severino and Antônio and said, “I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to you, and that I …” Cornelius glanced at Watt. “I antagonized him. I don’t know what got into me. I just—” Cornelius waved a hand. “I don’t know, there’s something about him.”
Severino smiled gently, and it reminded Cornelius of Papa after an ‘I told you so’ moment. Not cruel or satisfied, but … Cornelius didn’t know, he couldn’t think of the word for it. Compassionate? Understanding?
Antônio adjusted his hat and shrugged. “He will be looking for you, not me.”
Watt chuckled. Antônio grinned, and then Cornelius and Severino were smiling too. Watt clapped Cornelius on the shoulder. “Ready to keep going?”
Cornelius nodded. “Yes.”
They made camp in the abandoned Bacairy village that Fawcett had once stayed in, situated near the Paranatinga and less than a day’s walk from the Post. Exhaustion and nerves was a common denominator within the group, even cool Antônio twitched at nearly every unexpected noise. There had been no followers, or at least none that they could hear or see.
Cornelius stayed up writing in his journal by the dwindling light of the campfire. They kept it lit, but not roaring. It was his shift, and the night was quiet. The moon was half full and twice as glorious for what it lacked. He was grateful that it was his turn to stay awake, he wouldn’t have been able to sleep if he tried. It was like every Big Thing that had been lingering in the back of his mind since agreeing to this venture had decided to shatter the bars of the cage containing them. His complicated feelings for Watt and their past, doubts regarding their mission and his own competence, and every insecurity that lingered involving his own manhood.
Watt slipped out of the old hut that once housed families and otherwise, but now only gave weary travelers temporary shelter. He was quiet and catlike despite his size, and Cornelius thought, ‘He belongs out here.’
Watt knelt beside Cornelius on the ground, offering a tired smile. Quietly, he said, “I can take over, if you’d like.”
“Can’t sleep?”
“No.”
“To be honest, I don’t think I’ll be able to either.”
Watt hesitated, then nodded. “Let me know if you want to switch.” He began to straighten and Cornelius reached out, taking hold of his wrist. Watt stared down at Cornelius’ hand, eyes reflecting the fire’s light. Cornelius quickly let go, ducking his head. He closed his journal and said, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” Watt said, and after only a moment’s hesitation, sat beside Cornelius. He drew his knees up to his big chest, linking his arms around his legs. His body fit snugly against Cornelius’, and it struck Cornelius then that they were alone.
“Where’s Maggie?” He whispered.
Watt smiled. “Afraid we’ll be caught out with a chaperone?”
Cornelius grinned despite his melancholy. “Careful, you might develop a sense of humor.”
“Ah, and what a terrible thing that would be.” Watt bumped his shoulder against Cornelius’.
Cornelius chuckled softly, then glanced over at the hut. “Are the others awake?”
Watt shook his head, but Cornelius still felt apprehensive. You could never be too careful. And yet Cornelius had to talk to someone about this, get out of his own head. He didn’t want to wander far from camp, not after last night’s events. What had he been thinking?
The fire cracked, a once whole piece of scavenged wood collapsed into cinders, and it wasn’t unlike the epiphany that cracked Cornelius’ upside the head. He’d been showing off. Posturing. Arrogant.
Cornelius ran a hand through his hair, the sides of which had grown long and unruly. He desperately needed a haircut. Watt watched him out of the corner of his eye, and waited.
“I’ve a lot on my mind,” Cornelius started. He found it hard to say anything more, and went quiet. What an auspicious beginning.
“They don’t have much storage space, do they? Minds, I mean.” Watt murmured.
Cornelius’ lip quirked. “No, they don’t.” He sighed, the night air far crisper than it was during the day. Cold, but not the kind that awaited one in Michigan. Here it was sharp and sudden, so unlike the aching and endless cold that soaked one to the bone.
“I—I wonder if I am doing women a disservice.”
Watt blinked, long and slow. “I don’t understand,” he said after a moment. “Can you explain?”
“I—do you remember when you came to my office with Mrs. Fawcett?”
