Ella

by Ryan Scott

Chapter 17

  Four months after the abalone trip, Ella was returning from Mueller’s groceries with Tommy when she fell on loose gravel. Unable to get up, she told Tommy to run and tell John.

  The accident led to a miscarriage. Confined to her bed, she worried she would be unable to care for Tommy, but Mrs. Mueller barged into her home, saying breathlessly, "Ella, you are in no shape to look after Tommy. If you like, I’ll take him to the store and watch him until John picks him up in the evenings."

  Still feeling resentment over Mrs. Mueller’s summary dismissal, she put her negative feelings aside and replied, "Well, thank you. I’ve been worrying about him. If you could take him for a little while, I would be grateful."

  She turned to her son and asked, "Tommy, would you like to spend the day with Mrs. Mueller?"

  He hesitated, thinking about the lollypops and tootsie rolls at the store, and replied, "Ok, I’ll go."

  A week later, Ella felt strong enough to take Tommy back. When she informed Mrs. Mueller, sadness softened the hard lines around the business woman’s face. "You know, I never had children. I'm going to miss him. Anytime you need my help, I'll be happy to take him again," She said quietly.

  Tommy pulled at her skirt, saying, "Mrs. Mueller, don’t be sad. I'll come to see you all the time."

  Ella laughed. "Tommy, you can certainly do that. Thank you so much, Mrs. Mueller. John and I are grateful for your help."

  Two weeks later, Ella was washing the breakfast dishes when she heard a knock at the back door. She peeked through the curtains and saw a bearded man standing on the stoop, wearing ragged jeans and a tattered suit coat. She cracked the door opened and asked, "Yes, what do you want?"

  The stranger smoothed his hair, replying, "Excuse me, Ma'am. Is there some work I can do for food? I haven't eaten in two days."

  She opened the door wider and stood with her hands on her hips. "What's going on here? You're the third person this morning who's asked me for a handout."

  The stranger scratched his head, saying politely, "It must be the convention, Ma'am. If you could spare some food, I would be mighty grateful."

  "Oh, all right. Wait here. I’ll get you something," she replied and closed the door.

  When she returned, she gave him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. "Now, tell me, what's this business about a convention?"

  He took a bite of sandwich and chewed as he talked. "It’s the 1936 Hobo Convention, Ma'am. It's time to elect a new king."

  She stepped back into the house, thinking, he's either crazy or he’s pulling my leg. I just hope he isn’t dangerous.

  The stranger swallowed the last bite and asked, "Is there some work for me, Ma'am?"

  "No, that's all right. You're welcome to the food."

  He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, saying, “Thank you, Ma'am. In that case, I'll go now."

  She scowled as she watched him walking down the path, thinking, a hobo king, indeed! I've never heard of such a thing!

  She closed the door and went to find John who was reading the Sunday paper. "John, do you know anything about a Hobo Convention?” she asked. “I don't know if that guy was off his trolley, but he said there would be an election to pick a king. You don’t suppose the town is going to be overrun with bums, do you?"

  He looked up from the paper and replied, "What? I don't know, but hobos are different than bums. Hobos are willing to work for food, but bums are just lazy. I’m going to have a look for myself."

  He went to the window and observed a group of men who were sprawled around a bonfire in the meadow behind Mueller’s Resort. He frowned and said, "I don't like how it looks. They’ve taken over the meadow and there are more of them coming down the highway."

  "John, where’s Tommy?"

  "I think he went to the store to see Mrs. Mueller."

  She pulled on her black sweater and walked to the door, saying, "Oh dear, He shouldn't be out there with all those strangers. I'm going down to the store and get him. I'll be right back."

  When she entered Mueller’s Resort, she saw the business woman glaring through the front window with her arms crossed with a look of disgust on her face. She called, "Hi, Mrs. Mueller. Have you seen Tommy?"

  "Oh Mercy, Ella! You startled me. Tommy was here just a minute ago. What do you think of all that riff-raff out there?"

  "Those men are the reason I'm looking for Tommy. Do you know where he went?"

  Mrs. Mueller removed her spectacles and polished the lenses, saying, "Well, now, let me think. He came in earlier with a bunch of wild flowers he sold to a tourist for a penny. Oh, yes, now I remember. He used the penny to buy a hook to go fishing. I believe he’s digging worms behind the last cabin."

  Ella laughed. "That sounds like him. I'm always finding dead worms in his pockets. Ugh! Ever since John showed him how to fish, he's crazy about fishing."

  She reached for the door. "I better go now and find him. Goodbye, Mrs. Mueller."

  As she walked to the last cabin, she heard shouts and raucous laughter coming from the meadow. When she saw Tommy, he was sitting on the cabin steps, looking unhappy with his chin in his hands. "Hello, Tommy. Is there anything wrong?" She asked.

  He slapped his knee and pointed at the hobos. "Those guys over there by the creek are scaring all the fish."

  She took his hand. "We need to go home now. I don't think it's safe to be around those loud mouth men."

  As she walked briskly up the path, holding Tommy’s hand, she heard a chorus of whistles and catcalls.

  "Hey, baby, where are you going?"

  "Hey sweetie, Come over here and join the party."

  "Hey, girly, shake that thing."

  She ignored the comments and walked faster.

  During the afternoon, men continued to arrive with bedrolls tied across their backs. Concerned citizens of Jenner-By-The-Sea remained behind locked doors. The level of noise increased as the strangers passed brown jugs from hand to mouth, laughing and shouting. Fistfights erupted, shoving and jeering. When the fog moved in from the ocean, the red glow of the campfires revealed vague shadows of gyrating men.

  "I’ve seen enough! I’m going to have my guns ready just in case there's trouble," John said and went to his dresser and removed a snub-nosed pistol and a Colt revolver.

  A loud knock rattled the back door. John grabbed his Colt revolver and shouted, "Who's there?"

  "It's me. Lester Mueller. Let me in, quick!"

  After John unfastened the latch, the bald-headed grocer burst into the room with his eyes wild, saying, "My wife...those men... She's ...trouble."

  John shook him, saying, "Lester, I can't understand a damn thing you're saying. Get a hold of yourself and tell me what happened."

  The grocer swallowed, saying, "Those men broke the front window and overran us. I heard my wife scream. I think she fell, but I couldn't get to her, so I ran here. John please help me."

  John handed the stub-nose pistol to Mr. Mueller and asked, "Lester, do you know how to shoot?"

  He stared helplessly at the weapon, replying, "I’ve never fired a gun in my life."

  John took the pistol back. "Here, let me show you. This is the safety catch. You push it off like this. You pull the hammer back, and then you point it at someone and pull the trigger. Each time you want to shoot, you pull the hammer back. Have you got that?"

  Mr. Mueller wiped his hand over his face, saying, "Yes, I think I understand. Let's go, for God's sake!"

  John returned the gun to Mr. Mueller and stuffed the Colt in his belt. "Good. Don't use it unless you have to. Ella, keep the door locked until we get back."

  She followed them to the porch, watching them disappear into the night. She called, "John. Be careful."

  His voice trailed back. "Don't worry; we won't take any chances."

  She fastened the latch and walked back to the window to watch the men who were barely visible in the fog. She pressed Tommy to her side, saying, "Tommy, stay
close to me. Don't wander away!"

  As the night became ominously quiet, Ella became anxious. Something’s wrong. I wonder what’s taking them so long. I hope Mrs. Mueller is all right.

  While she was waiting impatiently for the men to return, a small knock on the door startled her. "Ella, let us in," John called softly.

  When she unlocked the door, she saw Mr. Mueller with a stricken look. She cried out, "Oh, my God, John. What happened?"

  He shook his head slowly, saying, "We found her, but she was murdered!"

  Ella quickly went to the grocer. "Oh, Mr. Mueller, I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

  He sunk down into a chair, saying tearfully, "No, there's nothing I need now. I just need my wife."

  Ella whispered, "John, what happened?"

  "We found her in the store. She was lying in a pool of blood with her head bashed in."

  Tommy began to cry. Ella anxiously asked, "John, are we safe?"

  He pulled the pistol from his belt and put it on the table, replying, "Yes. I think so. Those bastards high-tailed it out of here in a hurry. I've already called the sheriff."

  A knock on the door startled everyone. When John pulled the door open, Ella recognized the hobo who had told her about the convention. He said, "I know who killed that woman. May I come in?"

  John stepped aside, saying, "If you have information, come in and tell us."

  The stranger entered the kitchen and went to Mr. Mueller, saying, "I’m sorry about your wife. I want you to know the hobos are not responsible for this outrage. Some hothead drifters were the ones who raised all the hell. We tried to control them, but when they got drunk, we couldn't stop them."

  Mr. Mueller grabbed the man’s coat and yelled, "Goddamn it, who killed my wife?"

  The hobo replied calmly, "His name is Crazy Eddy. I don't know his last name, but I can describe him."

  Ella stepped forward and said, "John just called the sheriff. When he gets here, you can tell him everything. In the meantime, why don't all of you sit down, and I'll make coffee while we wait."

  The hobo pulled out a chair from the table, saying, "Thank you Ma'am. I haven't had a good cup of coffee in days."

  When he removed his coat and hung it on the back of the chair, she noticed a golden paper crown protruding from his vest pocket. Her mouth dropped as events swirled in her mind like a kaleidoscope. Staring at the hobo as if he were an optical allusion, she thought, first, a mean old woman turned into a kindly grandmother, only to be murdered. Now, this ragged hobo has turned into a king who would avenge her death!