“That was my son’s favorite book,” said the captain as he took it away from me and put it back. “You can look at it tomorrow. Right now it’s getting late.”
Then I saw Mrs. Sykes walk up behind him. “Make yourselves at home,” she said. “This will be your bedroom. You can pull out any book you want, Billie. Our older son was a big fan of all the Burroughs books.” She picked up Tarzan and glanced at it, then handed it back to me.
I gave her a confused look.
“Edgar Rice Burroughs. He wrote Tarzan. Not my favorite, I can tell you, but very popular among the younger set.”
After they left the room, I turned on the lamp. Sara put on her old cotton nightgown from the suitcase, but I didn’t have any pajamas, so I just slept in my underclothes. We lay in our beds while the clock ticked. I could hear the wind rustling the tree branches outside my open window. It was still pretty hot, but that didn’t bother Sara. I could tell from her even breathing that she’d already fallen asleep. I finally turned off the light and listened to the sounds of the house. I could hear the faint voices of Mr. and Mrs. Sykes as they talked in the next room. I couldn’t make out the words except for when I heard my own name being mentioned. I finally turned on my side and nodded off to sleep.
I must have slept for a couple of hours before I woke to the sound of a car engine. The car’s lights lit up the curtains as it turned off the street and pulled into the driveway. Then the driver cut the engine. I lay there silently, listening. Suddenly I heard the car door slam shut.
I got up and pulled the curtain back, then looked out the window. In the dim moonlight, I could make out a Model A roadster parked behind Captain Sykes’ patrol car.
I strained my eyes to see the color. At first I thought it might be gray, but the more I looked, the more I realized it wasn’t. It was blue. My heart started pounding. I had a sinking feeling that it might be the Model A we’d seen at the rest stop. I pulled back from the window when I heard yelling and the slamming of a door in the house. Then the voices got so loud I could hear every word. I thought Sara would at least feel the vibration of the slamming door, but somehow she went on sleeping.
“I just couldn’t take it so I told them I quit,” I heard someone say. Whoever it was, he was shouting thickly, like he was drunk or something.
“You did not, you were fired!” said Captain Sykes. He was trying to keep his voice low, but it was almost like a yell. “I knew that’s what would happen when they hired that little bastard. They might put up with you alone, but the two of you together—no way. That S.O.B. is your cousin, but he’s no good and you’re gettin’ the same way. My God, look at you, all beat up and swollen. How did it happen, Tommy?”
“Him and me got in a fight,” Tommy answered. “You should see him. But we made up already.”
“I’ll bet you did,” Captain Sykes cut him off. “The two of you are headed for hell in a hand basket.”
“But I don’t drive a hand basket,” Tommy replied. “I drive a Model A!” He laughed at his joke.
“That damned car will get you to hell fast, too,” Captain Sykes shot back, “especially if you try to drive like you are now. You’re drunk.”
“Let him alone, Charles,” said Mrs. Sykes. “Tommy, you go back to the cot in the sunroom and get some sleep. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”
“I ain’t goin’ to no cot,” protested Tommy. “I’m sleepin’ in my own room.”
“You can’t!” said Captain Sykes. “There’s someone in there—some children we’re taking care of.”
“What children?” he asked angrily. “Why the hell can’t they sleep on the cots? It’s my room ain’t it?”
Then Mrs. Sykes spoke up again. “Well, you can’t have it—at least not tonight. Two girls are asleep in there. They’ve had some bad knocks in the last few days. Their father’s in the hospital dying. Your dad says that if he lives, he’ll go back to prison. I guess you haven’t heard about it. He attacked Jessie Atkins out at the 10-mile rest stop. His kids were there, too. Jessie lost her memory from the shock of it—maybe for good, from what your dad says.”
“And you brought those kids here? Are you crazy, Pa? I mean ...” Tommy’s voice drifted off.
“You mean what?” asked the captain sarcastically.
“I mean, they’re coloreds, ain’t they? We shouldn’t have ‘em here.”
“You’re the one who shouldn’t be here,” Captain Sykes said in a low voice. “Once you’re sobered up, I want you out of here for good. Do you understand? As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a son.”
“They’re just children,” Mrs. Sykes cut in again. “Leave them alone.”
Then the captain spoke up. “I’m goin’ on to work now, but you stay right here ‘til I get back after midnight. Do you understand, Tommy? Right here!” Then he paused again. “If you’re sober enough by then, you can leave for good.”
“I ain’t promising nothing,” the boy shouted. “You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do!”
“Like hell I can’t,” said the captain. “Now give me your goddamn car keys.”
“I ain’t givin’ you nothin’!” Tommy answered. Then I heard a loud blow and a crashing sound. Mrs. Sykes screamed. When she stopped, I could hear Tommy crying.
“You’ll be sorry for that, Papa, I swear you will,” said Tommy.
“I already am,” said the captain sadly. “But I still want your keys.”
“All right, take ‘em,” said Tommy between sobs. “I’m goin’ back to the cot on the porch and sleepin’ this off. When you come home I’ll get out of here. And you don’t need to worry about me comin’ back, either. I’ll be happy to be out of your sight for good.”
“You’re damn right you will,” the captain stormed again.
“Stop it!” yelled Mrs. Sykes. “Just stop all of this! Both of you!”
There was a long silence, then I heard Captain Sykes again. “I’ll be leaving now. I need some fresh air.”
I heard the door slam again. When I went over to the window and peaked out, I saw Captain Sykes get into his car. He bumped the Model A as he pulled out of the driveway, then raced his engine as he drove away. I could still hear Mrs. Sykes talking softly to Tommy, but I couldn’t make out the words. Then I heard her say clearly, “Good night, darling. He’ll cool off by the time he comes back. He always does. Now, you get a good night’s sleep and we’ll make some different arrangements tomorrow. I’m going upstairs now. Don’t be upset. Your father will come to his senses.”
Tommy didn’t reply.
I lay back down on the bed, trying to figure things out. Then I started talking to myself. “There’s no danger,” I said over and over, “it’s not the same guy. It can’t be. It’s just some other guy with a blue Model A.”
I lay awake for at least a couple of hours. When I was finally drifting off into a shallow sleep, I heard the bedroom door creak. I opened my eyes just enough to make out a face looking through the crack in the doorway. Then the door closed again, very softly. I felt my heart race as I lay there. Then I heard a muffled voice. I climbed out of bed and padded on bare feet to the closed door. I opened it a crack and peaked out. I could see a phone cord stretched from the hallway into the bathroom. It had to be Tommy calling someone, I figured. I crouched at the door another couple of minutes, then crawled quietly toward the bathroom. When I got up to it, I could hear him clearly.
“Get your ass over here,” said Tommy in a loud whisper. There was a long silence while the person on the other end answered. Then I heard Tommy again. “You’ve got to come now! Take your brother’s car. Just take it and come, or you’re gonna be damned sorry.”
There was silence again, then Tommy spoke softly. “My mother’s asleep upstairs and the old man’s working ‘til midnight. Get over here right the crap now.” There was silence again, then Tommy whispered loudly. “I’ll tell you in person when you get here. I can’t talk right now. But it’s about those colored kids—the ones from the rest st
op. They’re goddamn here in our house. If they tell him it was us they saw, he’ll kill me. I swear to God, he’ll just kill me. You know how he gets.” There was silence again, then Tommy spoke very low. “With pillows,” he said. “Just put ‘em over their faces. We’ll dump ‘em in the desert. My folks will just think they ran away.” I felt my heart beat like a jackhammer.
“He took my damn keys,” he went on, ‘but I got another set hidden in my bottom drawer.” There was silence again, then he spoke more harshly. “I’m sick of arguin’—just get that goddamn Ford and come over.”
I didn’t wait for him to hang up. I tiptoed back into the bedroom and closed the door silently. Then I went over to Sara’s bed and shook her shoulder. She opened her eyes in surprise, then sat straight up. She could tell something was wrong. I ran my fingers across my throat as our sign for danger, then pointed toward the door. I could see her start to tremble as she reached for her doll. Then I helped her out of bed and started to put on my clothes while she did the same. After I packed the few things we had in the old suitcase, I remembered what Tommy had said about the keys. I shuffled through some balled-up socks in the bottom dresser drawer ‘til I found them, then I pushed the window open. I pulled myself through it and came out on the porch. Sara handed me the suitcase, then I helped her get through the window behind me. I started to take her toward the car, then remembered something. The blankets from the beds—we’d need them by morning. I went back in quietly, retrieved the blankets and was outside again in a few seconds.
Now came the hard part. Papa had taught me to drive the old Model T truck, but this was a Model A. You had to crank-start the Model Ts while the driver had the gear in neutral, but you could start a Model A without doing all that. Only I didn’t know how.
When we got to the car, I pulled open the rumble seat as quietly as possible and put the suitcase and blankets inside. Then I pushed the cover down, but couldn’t latch it because of the noise. The spring forced it back so I just left it that way and opened the driver’s side door, helping Sara in and then following her. Then I saw how low the seat was. I could barely see over the wheel. I got out again, shaking all over and retrieved the blankets, then folded them into a cushion that I placed on the driver’s seat. Now at least I could see, but my feet barely touched the clutch and brakes.
At last I figured out the layout of the car and shifted the gear into neutral. Then I put my foot on what I thought was the starter. It came to life right away as I set the choke. I thought Tommy would come running after us but somehow he didn’t.
Finally I was able to shift into first. The car jumped as I let out the clutch too fast. Fortunately, it didn’t stall. I headed down the circular drive that led back toward the bridge. Then I turned on the lights to see the bridge so we could get over it safely.
On the road, I turned the wheel hard to the left and headed east, the way we’d come. I was feeling better now and I knew where I had to go—the tracks. I hoped we could hitch a ride on a boxcar there. The captain had said that a freight train passed through every night. I hated leaving my father, but we couldn’t help him anyway—all we could do now was run for our lives. I drove along somewhat erratically, weaving a little. A truck coming the other direction flashed his lights at me. All at once, a terrible thought hit me. It occurred to me that Tommy’s friend would be driving to his house. If he saw us, he’d recognize the car and go after us. I couldn’t let that happen, so I turned off to the right, over a bridge onto a road leading into a field behind some cottonwoods. Then I turned off the lights and swung the car around so we could see the road clearly. I guess it took about ten minutes, but sure enough, a Ford sedan appeared. It was a ‘35 model, bright red. I could see just one guy inside—the driver. I figured he was Tommy’s friend. I let him pass by then pulled out again onto the road. My heart came up into my throat when we passed a police car. He kept on going without even slowing down. A few minutes later we came to a junction. I turned the Model A onto the graveled area that led by the train tracks, continuing on for about a half mile. Finally, we came to a stop next to some packing sheds.
“This is where we leave the car,” I said to Sara, even though she couldn’t hear. “They’ll find it tomorrow, but by then we’ll be long gone.”
I could see flashing lights further down the tracks. Some workmen were yelling at each other as they joined the freight cars. We ducked down into the seat as two guys in gray caps and coveralls came walking by. I thought they hadn’t seen us til one of ‘em put his face in the window. He looked at us for a second, then smiled. “I oughta report you kids to the railroad cops up there, but I won’t,” he said in a good-natured tone of voice. “I used to come out here to neck myself. But you’d better get out of here before that train pulls out or the dicks will see you for sure.”
I thanked my stars that it was too dark for him to see us well.
As soon as the railroad workers were out of sight, I motioned to Sara to climb out of the car. Once we were out, I reached back inside for the suitcase and blankets. Then I decided to search the car to see if there was anything else there we could use. I fished around under the seat and felt something hard and cold. Immediately I knew it was a gun—a snub-nosed revolver. I started to replace it, then thought better of it. I thought it might come in handy.
I fished around some more with my hand under the seat and came to a folded-up pocketknife. I stuffed it in my pants, then went back to fishing. I suddenly put my hand on something that felt like a roll of tape. When I pulled it out, I saw that it was a wad of paper with a rubber band around it. When I got it in the open, my heart jumped. It was money! Lots of it. I figured it was what they’d taken from Jessie Atkins at the rest stop. Now I had no doubt who had done the crime. I figured Papa had tried to save Miss Atkins and they shot him down, then placed the gun in his hand to make it look like he’d shot Miss Atkins.
As I watched Sara hug her doll, I got an idea. I unloaded the gun, then took the doll from her and unzipped it over her protests. I took out some of the newspaper stuffing to make room and carefully placed the roll of money and the gun inside, along with the bullets. Only I left a couple of them loaded in the last two chambers. Then I zipped it up and handed it back. It felt heavy as a dumbbell. She frowned as she took it from me but she seemed to understand. She sat down, cradling it in her arms, then put it on the ground and walked away. Then she came back and picked it up again.
After that, we went over behind the sheds. I took two cantaloupes from a pile. I knew we’d be hungry by morning. I wrapped them in a blanket, then we headed down the tracks where the train was. It was a long one—nothing but boxcars, most of them closed up tight. The full moon gave them an eerie glow.
We saw a couple of workers smoking cigarettes by the tracks. We crawled under the train to avoid them, then came out on the other side. Then the cars started to move. I lifted Sara up into a boxcar then handed her the doll and our other stuff. She tried to help me jump aboard but I couldn’t make it. Just as I began to panic the train made a clanging sound and stopped again. They were hooking up more cars at the back of it. When I still couldn’t get up into the open door, Sara started to cry. Then a big, hairy arm came out of the side of the doorway, reaching down toward me. My heart raced as I looked up into the bearded face of a man. He hauled me upward with a grunt.
“Boomer’s the name,” he said. “You two is the youngest hobos I ever seen.”
“We ain’t hobos,” I said, immediately smelling the whiskey on his breath. “Our father’s right behind us. He’s ridin’ too. We’re just out of money.”
“Ain’t we all,” answered Boomer. He squinted toward me, trying to see me in the shadows. He wore baggy army clothes that didn’t fit. His dirty gray hair fell past his shoulders. He let out a laugh as I stared at him. “You must think I look like a soldier. Well I am! I was in the Big War back in eighteen. Only here’s a secret. Don’t tell no one, but these army clothes ain’t mine. I stole ‘em from a war surplus store. What d
’ya think? Do they suit me?”
He turned his attention to Sara before I could answer. “My, you and that little doll sure are a pretty pair,” he said as he loomed over her. He reached down and patted her head, causing her to jerk away. “What’s your name, little lady?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, his voice became shrill. “Hey, has the cat got the little gal’s tongue? I bet I can make you talk.”
“Here comes our dad!” I said, trying to distract him.
He walked over to the boxcar door and looked from right to left. “Ain’t nobody there,” he said. “You’re just bluffin’ me. You ain’t got no daddy with you. You two is runnin’ away. Don’t be scared of me. I’ll be your daddy.”
Just then, the car started to move with a jerk, causing me to lose my balance. Boomer had to catch himself, holding onto the inside of the door. Then he grabbed Sara’s arm and began to drag her toward the back of the car. She shook with fear but choked back her scream.
“I always did want a little gal like you,” he mumbled. “Now, now, be nice to old Boomer and he’ll be nice to you.” She finally started to scream but Boomer just kept dragging her. She was holding onto the doll for dear life. I was hoping she’d pull the gun out but I knew she wasn’t strong enough.
Then I remembered the knife I’d found in the Model A. I had it in my pocket. I turned my back to Boomer long enough to fish it out and open the biggest blade. Then, palming it so he couldn’t see it, I turned and faced him. “Let her go,” I said, “just let her go. She’s deaf and she can’t even hear you.”
“Oh,” he said, “that’s better ‘n ever.”
“I told you to let her go,” I repeated. When he didn’t move, I threw myself at him, bringing the knife down toward his chest. He put up his arm to block me and I buried the blade in his shoulder, then pulled it out as he fell backward. Sara broke loose and ran to the open door where I had placed our suitcase and blankets. By now the car was moving steadily and I knew I had just one chance.
Summer of the Guns Page 5
