Someplace to Call Home

by Sandra Dallas

  Thirty minutes later, Hallie helped Tom and Mr. Ulman close up the station. She drew the shades and turned around the “Open” sign so that it read “Closed.”

  Just as Mr. Ulman was locking the door, Harold drove up and screeched to a stop. Dan wasn’t with him. Instead, a man Hallie thought must be Harold’s father sat in the passenger seat. He didn’t get out of the car but motioned for Mr. Ulman to come over to him. “What can I do for you, Mr. Morton?” Mr. Ulman asked.

  “I hear you got a thief working for you,” Mr. Morton said.

  “No, sir. Tom here is an honest man.”

  “Not from what my son tells me. He believes the boy owes him four dollars.”

  “No, sir. Your son gave him a dollar bill. There’s no five in the cash drawer.”

  “Then it looks like the boy pocketed the money.”

  “He wouldn’t do that, Mr. Morton. He’s as honest as any young man that’s ever worked for me.”

  “Are you calling my son a liar?”

  “I’m saying he made a mistake. But if you believe I owe him four dollars, I’ll give it to him.” Mr. Ulman took a key out of his pocket and started for the door.

  “Now hold on there, Ulman. That’s not good enough. It’s not just the four dollars. I wouldn’t want to do business with a man that employs a thief.”

  Mr. Ulman stopped and stared. “What’s that mean?”

  “It seems to me you’re a little behind on your loan.”

  Hallie remembered then that Mr. Morton owned the bank. He must have loaned money to Mr. Ulman for the gas station. Maybe Mr. Ulman had missed a payment. Maybe he’d missed more than one payment.

  Mr. Ulman waited.

  “I’ve been understanding about that loan. But if you insist on employing undesirables like that boy over there, well, maybe I’ll just reconsider how understanding I’ve been. I sure would hate to shut you down, but it’s the principle of the thing.”

  “You mean . . . ?” Mr. Ulman asked.

  “It’s not good business to loan money to a man who employs a thief.”

  “Tom’s not . . .” Mr. Ulman looked down at his hands.

  “Think it over, and let me know in the morning. Good day,” Mr. Morton said. He nodded at Harold, who grinned at Tom as he revved the engine. The car sped off.

  Hallie, Tom, and Mr. Ulman watched the car until it disappeared. Then Mr. Ulman turned to Tom. “I don’t have the money to pay the bank. And I have a family that’s got to eat. If I lose the garage, I won’t be any better off than you are.” He shook his head and turned away from Tom, embarrassed to look at him.

  “I understand,” Tom said.

  “I’m real sorry, son. You’ve been the best mechanic I ever had. If there was any other way.” He punched his right fist into the palm of his left hand.

  “It’s all right,” Tom said. “We’ll make out.”

  Tom and Hallie started off down the road, but Mr. Ulman called for Tom to wait a minute. He went inside and came out with six one-dollar bills in his hand. “Here’s two weeks’ pay. It’s the least I can do.”

  Hallie felt Tom stiffen. She knew he wanted to turn down the money even though they needed it. He didn’t want to take a handout.

  Mr. Ulman must have realized that, too. He said, “Heck, I was going to give four dollars to Harold just so’s you could stay on. You might as well take it instead.”

  Tom relented and put out his hand. “I sure do thank you, Mr. Ulman.”

  “If I hear of anything, I’ll let you know.” Mr. Ulman shook his head again. “Those boys are a worthless pair. They may not be done with you yet. You be careful.”

  “I let you down,” Tom told Hallie as they walked along the road toward the Carlson farm to get Benny.

  “You didn’t let us down. You’ve been carrying the load ever since we left Oklahoma,” Hallie told him. “You must feel the way Daddy did when he left us.”

  “I won’t leave you.”

  “I know that.”

  “How are we going to live?”

  “We haven’t starved yet.”

  “Some people sure don’t like us much.” Tom walked slowly, his shoulders slumped, kicking rocks in the road. “Maybe you were right when you said we should move on. Maybe we should do that now.”

  “Maybe,” Hallie said. “But we don’t have the money for gas to go anywhere far.”

  They walked along silently for a moment. Then Hallie said, “I’m proud of you, Tom. You did the right thing. You can’t give up. Remember when Daddy left and never came back? Mommy said the measure of a man was how he stood up to bad times. I’m not sure exactly what that means, but I think she was saying that you can tell what a person’s made of by how he deals with trouble. You could have gone off, too, but you didn’t. Mommy knew you wouldn’t. I did, too. That’s the difference between you and Daddy. You face trouble, and you don’t give up.”

  “You don’t give up, either, Hallie.”

  “I’m tempted to sometimes.”

  Tom kicked hard at a rock that skittered off into the ditch. “We aren’t neither one of us giving up, I reckon.”

  “We make a pretty good team,” Hallie told him.

  “You and me.” Tom smiled a little at her.

  “And Benny,” Hallie said.

  “And Benny.”

  The two stopped at the Carlsons’ to collect the little boy. Just as they were leaving, Mr. Carlson said, “I was about to take my old truck to the station so’s you could look at it. It don’t start too good.”

  “Mr. Ulman’ll be glad to fix it,” Tom said.

  “I was hoping you’d fix it.”

  Tom looked off into the distance. “I don’t work there anymore, Mr. Carlson.”

  “You quit him? I thought you liked working there.”

  “I surely did. I didn’t quit.”

  “Mr. Ulman had to let him go on account of Mr. Morton threatened him,” Hallie said. “Harold Morton claimed Tom stole four dollars from him.”

  Mr. Carlson’s face dropped. “I don’t believe for a minute you’d do a thing like that.”

  “Mr. Ulman doesn’t, either,” Hallie said. “But he didn’t have a choice.”

  “Why, anybody who knows you, Tom, would take your word over Harold’s,” Mrs. Carlson said.

  “Anybody but Mr. Morton,” Hallie said.

  “I suppose you’re right about that.” Mr. Carlson exchanged a glance with his wife. Then he cleared his throat. “It’s almost spring, and I was thinking of starting planting a little early this year, maybe next month. Fields has got to be ready in case it rains.”

  Tom looked up quickly. “Rain?”

  “Well, you never know. We had rain two, three years ago. I’m hoping I’ll see it again before I die. Might say it’s a dream of mine. Could be it’ll rain this year. You be available to help me?”

  “Yes, sir,” Tom said. “Thank you, Mr. Carlson.”

  “Can you hold out till then?”

  “You bet,” Hallie said, crossing her fingers for luck.

  chapter twelve

  More Trouble

  “That must be Mr. Carlson,” Hallie said one day in mid-March. She’d heard a car pull up and stop near the cabin. They had just finished eating supper. Mrs. Carlson had given them a chicken a few days before. They had already eaten the chicken, so that day Hallie had added the bones to the bean soup, creating a rich broth.

  “Doesn’t sound like Mr. Carlson’s car,” Tom said. “I’ll go see who it is.”

  He opened the door, and he and Hallie stared at a big black car parked in the yard. A man sat behind the wheel. In farm country, a stranger didn’t just go to the door and knock. He waited for someone to come out of the house. Tom went down the steps and stood in the yard. Hallie remained in the doorway. The man turned off the engine and opened the car door. He was a big man, and he had to swivel around on the seat to get out.

  “You Tom Turner?” the man asked.

  “I am.”

  Hallie stepped
down beside Tom. Something about the man frightened her. He had a sense of authority. She knew he was someone important. He wasn’t a farmer looking for workers.

  “I’m Sheriff Eagles,” the man said.

  “Thought you might be,” Tom said.

  The man frowned. “Why’s that?”

  “The badge pinned to your coat.”

  The sheriff glanced down at the badge and smiled. “Guess that’d be a hint, all right.”

  Tom didn’t invite him in. Instead, he asked, “What can we do for you, sir?”

  “I come to talk to you.”

  “Maybe he’s looking for a good farmhand,” Hallie whispered.

  The sheriff heard her. “Don’t have a farm.”

  “We got coffee,” Hallie said suddenly. “You want a cup?”

  The sheriff smiled then and took off his hat. “I sure would, if it wouldn’t rob you, Miss Turner.”

  “You come right inside,” she told him. Mommy had said you got more flies with sorghum than with vinegar. If the sheriff was there because of what had happened at the filling station, they ought to be nice to him.

  The sheriff stepped inside the cabin and looked around. “You got it awful good here,” he said.

  “Yes, sir, awful good,” Hallie told him. “Thanks to the Carlsons.”

  “They’re fine folks.”

  Hallie glanced at Tom, who hadn’t said a word. He was staring at Sheriff Eagles’s badge. Hallie knew the man hadn’t just stopped by on a friendly visit. Something was wrong. That was why the sheriff knew Tom’s name. She worried that Mr. Morton had complained about the four dollars. Hallie poured the last of their coffee into a tin cup and handed it to the sheriff. “You want sugar?” She hoped not. They had only a little left in the sugar bowl.

  “Don’t need it. You make a good cup of coffee, Miss Turner,” he said after tasting it.

  “You can call me Hallie.”

  “Miss Hallie.”

  “I’d give you pie, but we don’t have any.”

  “Times is tough.”

  “You can say that again.” She wished Tom would say something. She’d used up all her conversation.

  “Hi, I’m Benny. I have soup,” Benny said.

  “Hi, yourself, Mr. Benny.”

  “I’m not Mr. Benny.” Benny laughed.

  Sheriff Eagles pulled a chair from the table and sat down. So did Hallie, but Tom remained standing. “I hear you been working for the Carlsons. They’re as good as we got around here.”

  “Yes, sir,” Tom said, speaking at last.

  “Carlsons been on that farm for a long time. Carlson’s daddy and my daddy, they go way back. Come here when there was still Indians around.” He chuckled at that. “The Indians used to come to the house and bother my grandmother, always asking for corn bread.” The sheriff shook his head, thinking about that. Then he turned to look directly at Tom. “You been here, what, five, six months now?”

  “A little more,” Tom said. “This is March. We got here in August.”

  “You planning on staying?”

  Hallie fidgeted in her chair. Maybe the sheriff was going to tell them to move on. She’d heard of lawmen who were hard on outsiders. They destroyed possessions and even beat the migrants sometimes. Maybe she shouldn’t have invited Sheriff Eagles into the house.

  “Any reason we shouldn’t?” Tom asked.

  The sheriff shrugged.

  “We were headed for California when the car broke down. Right here. We like Kansas right well,” Hallie said. “Maybe we’ll go on if Tom can’t get a job.”

  “I heard he’s a worker.” The sheriff finished his coffee and set down his cup. It banged against the table. Hallie thought to ask if he wanted more, but she remembered there wasn’t any more. It was time for him to tell them why he was there.

  “I’ve been sheriff here for quite a bit. I’ve got old doing it.” The sheriff was a powerful man, but his hair was white, and his skin was blotchy with age spots. “I ain’t as old as I look. I can still catch a thief or two. Not that this town has many of them. There was a fellow came through here once. He tried to steal a kitchen stove. It was one of those gas ones, not like yours.” He pointed to the cook stove. “He didn’t know you had to unhook the gas. Blew up in his face. Near took the kitchen out of that house.” He shook his head. “I guess I could tell you lots of stories, most of them about thieving. Some of them about mischief.” He turned and stared at Tom.

  Tom stared back.

  “What’s your business here?” Hallie asked.

  “Business? Who says I got business?”

  “Is this just a friendly call?” Tom asked.

  “Well, I do like to know my neighbors. And seeing as how you’ve been here better than half the year, you qualify as a neighbor. And you being orphans and all, I guess it’s time I check to see how you’re getting on. It ain’t easy being on your own when you’re young like you are, but there ain’t enough orphanages to take care of everybody. And from what I hear, they ain’t always the best place to live neither. Carlsons look after you, do they?”

  Neither Tom nor Hallie answered.

  The sheriff turned his chair so that he was looking directly at Tom, who was still standing. He cleared his throat. “You know the Morton boy, do you? Harold by name.”

  Tom barely nodded.

  “How’s that?” the sheriff asked.

  “I think you know I do.”

  “Get along, do you?”

  “I expect you know the answer to that, too.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  Suddenly Tom slammed his hand on the table. “If this is about that four dollars, I didn’t take it!”

  Startled, Hallie looked at her brother. Benny, frightened, glanced from Tom to the sheriff.

  “Four dollars?” the sheriff said.

  Hallie wished Tom had kept his mouth shut, but he was too riled up. “That four dollars he says I stole from him.”

  “Now, why would he say that?”

  “Because he’s a jerk. Because he doesn’t like us. He thinks we’re trash.”

  The sheriff cocked his head to one side. “That right?”

  “No, it isn’t. We’re not trash! We’re down on our luck, just like people all over. We’re decent folks.”

  “We’re just looking for someplace to call home. We’re not after trouble,” Hallie said. “I heard Harold tell Dan he was going to fix Tom. I was sitting right there. They didn’t see me,” she added.

  The sheriff didn’t speak.

  “You can ask Mr. Ulman about that four dollars. Harold gave me a dollar. When I handed him change, he said he’d given me a five. But he hadn’t. I checked the change drawer. Mr. Ulman knew I was right. He had to fire me because of Harold’s dad. Mr. Morton said he’d call the loan on the garage if I kept on working there. Ask him.”

  “I done that.”

  Tom blinked, not knowing what else to say.

  “What did Mr. Ulman tell you?” Hallie asked. Benny had come over to her and laid his head in her lap. He didn’t like the angry talk.

  “He said the Morton boy was just causing trouble. There’s been bad blood between him and Tom ever since you come here, he says.” The sheriff leaned forward. “I have to say that Morton kid is so dumb he couldn’t count to ten if he used his fingers. So it wouldn’t surprise me if he mistook a dollar bill for a five.”

  “He did it on purpose,” Hallie said.

  “That wouldn’t surprise me neither.” The sheriff leaned back in his chair and chuckled. Then he grew serious. “I’m not here about no four dollars. That’s not the reason I come.”

  Hallie and Tom stared at him. They couldn’t imagine what had brought the sheriff to the cabin.

  “You going to tell us what that reason is?” Tom asked.

  “I am.” The sheriff stood. He was even bigger than Hallie had thought. It seemed he had swollen in size until he filled up the room. “Harold Morton’s car’s been stole.”

  “And you think I t
ook it?” Tom asked.

  Hallie pinched her lips together. “Tom did no such thing. He never stole a thing in his life.”

  “I didn’t say he done it.”

  “Then why are you here?” Tom asked.

  “Because I don’t know who stole it. Old Morton says it was you. Harold, too, and that tagalong friend of his, Dan. So I got to check it out. But they don’t got no proof.”

  “No, they don’t,” Hallie said.

  “Still, everybody knows Tom don’t get along with Harold Morton. That’s no secret. If somebody was to steal Harold’s car, Tom here would be a good bet.”

  “Why do you say that?” Hallie asked.

  The sheriff held up his hand. “I don’t have no proof. That’s the truth. But Tom knows all about cars. It wouldn’t be hard for him to start the engine without a key.” The sheriff nodded to underscore his words. “Maybe he wouldn’t even need to do that. The boy always left the key in his car.” He thought a moment. “There’s those would say whoever stole that automobile maybe did a good turn. It’s a surprise he never run anybody over, the way he drives. Last time I saw the car, it was pretty beat-up. He was a menace, all right.” He looked at Tom a long time. “Maybe you thought you was protecting the town when you took his car. Maybe you just wanted the borrow of it.”

  “I didn’t take it,” Tom said so fiercely that Benny raised his head from Hallie’s lap.

  “It’s okay, Benny,” she said, patting his back.

  “I don’t guess anybody could blame you much, Harold taking your job away. And then that beating Harold give you. Way I heard it, he got the best of you.”

  “He did not!” Hallie flared. “Tom didn’t start it, either. Mrs. Powell from the school saw it. Ask her.”

  “Yeah,” Benny said.

  “You saw it, too, did you, son?” the sheriff asked.

  Benny looked confused.

  “You saw Harold?” the sheriff asked.

  “Bad boy,” Benny said.

  “I wouldn’t argue with you there.”

  “Ask my teacher,” Hallie said.

  “I already did. She thinks Harold would rather fight dirty and lose than fight fair and win.” He put his hat on, then touched the brim to Hallie. “Sis,” he said. “See you in church.”