The Truck Comes on Thursday

by Sue Hardesty

  We walked up the Bruner corner once to watch a road race from LA to Phoenix. Barney Oatfield was an hour in the lead. We didn't drive a horse and buggy up there for fear the racer, a stripped down looking car, would spook the poor horse to death as they would almost spook us kids. Not long before that was the first car we ever saw and it scared brother Larse so bad when he heard and saw it he ran across the yard and grabbed sister, drug her in the house and under the bed. After he got older and wanted to drive the car, Pa used to say he wished he'd always stayed that scared. I guess I didn't have sense enuff to be that scared as I held my ground.

  A mile east of our school was a landmark. Grant Millege had a threshing machine pulled with a steam engine and threshed some around the country. Rube Woody had one and later sold it to Bill Duser. I sometimes hauled coal to the steam engine for Bill. Fred hauled water and Patrick run the engine and blowed the whistle. At the Millege corner Dad Kynart had a blacksmith shop. He'd sharpen your plow share, forge weld any iron you had and shoe the raunchiest horse or mule there were. Dad Kynart later moved down just west of the school with his shop and spent the rest of his days there. His anvil rings no more.

  FROM: Loni Wagner

  TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

  DATE: July 12

  SUBJECT: Still here

  I spent some time trying to get End of Life directives from my grandparents. I think I'm growing up. I am finally beginning to appreciate and understand how they left everybody they knew to live in a white man's world and raise somebody who came home every day from school angry and miserable. They sacrificed a lot to raise me. Maybe it's just as well I didn't know about their pain. I'm not sure I could have survived both mine and theirs during those years. I'm having a hard time with it now. They spent their lives away from friends and family to take care of me and the ranch. I'm really trying now to give something back.

  I've also been reading my father's parents' history. The difference in how we all grew up in the same general area is amazing. Like Shiichoo says, though, when you're grateful, you can't be unhappy, so just think on that. I'm working on it.

  Please take care of you and yours.

  Love, Loni

  She climbed into bed. Rolling over, she pushed Coco out of her way and went to sleep.

  CHAPTER 13

  July 13, 7:22 a.m.

  LONI WAS JUST IN TIME for breakfast. She dropped into a chair and leaned back, watching her grandma cook. "How do you get rid of the thorns without your wood stove?" She watched her grandma dice the prickly pear pads.

  "Willie singes them outside." Shiichoo shook the cut cubes into a pan half full of boiling water. "About the only thing I miss anymore cooking on that wood stove. Can't singe on these burners."

  Loni ducked down to hide her smile.

  "Don't you say anything!" her grandma retorted, slapping her across the back of her head with the towel.

  "Whatcha cooking?"

  "Nopalitos," Shiichoo answered as she reached for a fry pan. She sat it on a burner and splashed in olive oil. "Bring me the chilies."

  Loni struggled up out of the chair. "How many?"

  "How hot you want it?" Shiichoo replied as she quickly chopped an onion.

  "Without the seeds?" Loni handed her ten and watched her chop them without cleaning out the seeds.

  "Good for your digestion," her grandma said.

  "Not worried about my digestion, thank you. I'm worried about my mouth."

  Drying her hands on her faded rainbow apron, Shiichoo shook a little salt and pepper in the fry pan. "Get me eight eggs and go tell your grandpa and Willie breakfast is on."

  Loni didn't move.

  "Now," her grandma insisted.

  "Oy. Dish'ah."

  "No. Not later. Now!" she insisted again.

  Loni struggled out of the chair, got the eggs, and sat them on the counter. She opened the screen door and hollered, "Bahb! Willie!"

  "Nice."

  Loni laughed at her grandma's sarcasm as she stepped out onto the screen porch and broke off a large chunk of aloe vera.

  "You take too much leaves and desecrate that plant." Bahb said.

  "You mean decimate."

  "No. I mean desecrate. It has good spirit."

  "Right now, it's all about my spirit," Loni groaned.

  "Told you again to wear hat."

  "That's not what hurts."

  "Still need hat."

  "I never did before," Loni said weakly.

  "Yi. But you tougher then."

  "Bull crap."

  Loni laughed at Bahb shaking his head at her as he banged back into the kitchen. She took a ziplock bag out of a drawer next to the wood stove. Dropping the leaves in, she slipped the bag in her shirt pocket and sat down. "It's to rub on my driving arm when the sun burns it later." She explained to Shiichoo, who gave her a skinny look. "Can't drive around all the time with your stinky salve, Shiichoo."

  Ignoring her, Shiichoo drained the prickly pear pods and returned them to the fry pan. She quickly stirred in the eggs, whipping until they cooked. Adding pan fried bread to a brown porcelain plate, she spooned on a heap of nopalitos and handed the plate to Loni.

  It felt good to be with family. "Tell me about your folks. Did you ever get to visit them?"

  "The school knew we were scared and lonely. If we went home, our folks would hide us out, and we would never go back." Shiichoo sighed. She filled a plate for Willie, who was washing his hands and face in the kitchen sink. "They were right." Setting the plate on the table, she filled one for herself. "I had a favorite older brother they never did find."

  "What happened to him?"

  "Last I heard he went to the Oklahoma oil fields. He was only thirteen last I saw him, but big for his age. Cherokees taught him enough English so that he got by. Married a Cherokee."

  "Do you know what happened to your folks? How they died?"

  Shiichoo shrugged. "Families around there said they got caught in an ice storm. Everything was lost."

  "Jesus, that's some kind of hurt."

  Shiichoo handed her a bar of soap and pointed at her mouth. Pushing Shiichoo away, she found that laughter kept her tears at bay. She turned to watch Bahb wash his hands. He had been repairing fences and his light blue work shirt had streaks of sweat down the back. "Hey, Bahb? How long were you at the Indian School?"

  Sitting back down at the table he turned to her with sad brown eyes. "Forever. Truly a prison."

  "I felt unsafe until your grandfather came," Shiichoo added. "So many of the girls were abused by the older boys and male teachers. But your grandfather protected me. I don't think I would have survived without him."

  As Shiichoo drifted into sad, Bahb said, "Remember basketball team?"

  She smiled back. "You mean the team famous for losing every game?"

  Bahb turned to Loni. "I on team. I tall Indian. But we all from different tribes who were enemies so nobody speak to other."

  Shiichoo explained. "They also spoke many different languages."

  "I remember this story. Didn't you know any English?"

  "Little. Fifteen when caught. Still, hard to be team player with enemy."

  "They tied them to the goal posts if they spoke anything but English." Shiichoo patted Bahb's arm as she sat his plate in front of him.

  "Court outside in sun, too. But your grandma taught me fast."

  Shiichoo smiled at him. "They had never played basketball before either. I wonder if that's why you had a new coach every few weeks?"

  Loni laughed. "That would be it for me."

  * * *

  After breakfast, Loni cleaned up while her grandmother gathered a pile of corn, pots, and pans. "Good lord, Shiichoo! You got the Sell Village moving in?"

  "Nope." Her grandma frowned at her. "Making enough green corn tamales so maybe you'll leave me some."

  "Don't count on it," Loni snickered.

  "That's today's cooking lesson. Maybe you will cook some and bring them to me."

  "Hah! You're
so funny. Besides, tamales are Mexican."

  "Child! Who do you think taught the Mexicans to cook?"

  "Well, I'm not sure Mexicans would agree with you. I always heard green corn tamales were started in Globe by the Borquez family."

  "Just start hulling and cutting the kernels off that corn." Shiichoo swatted at her and pointed at the pile.

  * * *

  Loni drove into the hangar before noon, carefully hiding her two dozen tamales from Daniel. He had a habit of raiding her refrigerator, and she had seen him eat a dozen in minutes. Loni settled in and called ranchers between Caliente and the border, asking them to call her if they saw any recent signs of travel. "Please," she asked each of them, "be sure to call me on my cell phone."

  Loni ate four tamales for supper in between calls. Worn out, Loni had energy for only a short email to Sandi before she crashed.

  FROM: Loni Wagner

  TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

  DATE: July 13

  SUBJECT: Still here

  Had a great day with my grandparents, even if I did work my ass off. You know how I don't love to cook! Having family and being with them helps me not miss Maria so much.

  Still miss all of you.

  Loni

  A ringing penetrated Loni's fog, and she fumbled for her phone. "Yes?"

  "Loni?"

  "I think so. Let me check."

  "Sorry?"

  Shit, it wasn't Lola. "Hey. I thought you were someone else."

  "This is Jenny."

  "Of course. What's up?"

  "One of my students is here. She was raped tonight."

  "Give me your address," Loni woke up fast and grabbed a pen. It was in a development built east of town about the time she left. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

  Loni jumped into her uniform and called Harris. "Gotta rape victim. Tell Bobby I'll be late."

  * * *

  A cute Mexican girl with a torn, bright red tank top under her white shirt was in tears when Jenny let Loni in. Blood was caked down the insides of her legs. Loni took Jenny aside and whispered, "What's her name?"

  "Carmen Gomez."

  "Why isn't she at the clinic?"

  "She won't go," Jenny whispered back.

  "Maybe we can talk her into it," Loni replied. Sitting beside the girl, she started the conversation in Spanish. "Carmen, mi nombre es Loni. Te acuerdas de nada?"

  The girl shook her head and continued to cry.

  Loni gently brushed the hair away from Carmen's eyes and looked up at Jenny. "She doesn't remember anything. Did she tell you anything?"

  Jenny shook her head.

  "Could you get some Kleenex for her?" Loni turned back to Carmen. "I have a friend at the clinic...."

  "No! No! No!" Carmen shook her head violently.

  "You could get a disease. Or get pregnant and need a pill."

  Carmen sobbed. "They'll find me there."

  "No. I'll be with you."

  "I'll be there, too," Jenny reassured her.

  The only sound was Carmen's sobbing.

  "Can we take you someplace?" Loni asked her.

  "My aunt," Carmen whispered.

  Loni drove Carmen to a small wooden house behind the Catholic church. Opening the truck door, the woman reached for Carmen and enveloped her while the girl sobbed. Loni followed the two through the dark into the warmth of the house, waiting for a moment to talk to the aunt. "I need her clothes."

  The aunt nodded, and the two of them walked out of the room. She returned and handed Loni a paper bag.

  * * *

  As Loni headed for work, she saw a dark car behind her. Get paranoid much? She thought maybe nothing, but on the other hand... Loni turned into a driveway and watched in her rearview mirror as the car sped by. She quickly backed out, but the car had turned the corner and disappeared by the time she got there. She forced herself to drive slowly to the station.

  CHAPTER 14

  July 14, 4:00 a.m.

  JUST BEFORE DAWN, Loni found herself talking to Coco as they parked on the side of the road, hidden by a curve where the road wound around Mariner Peak, a good place to pick up speeders and drunks. A short passing lane pushed drivers to speed up trying to pass cars, and they didn't slow down after they got past. She combed her fingers through the wavy wool on Coco's long ears. "You could help me stay awake!" Coco stared straight ahead, her eyes drooping shut.

  An hour later, an ancient truck slowly meandered by her. Here we go, she thought. She pulled in behind the truck and followed it for a mile, watching it cross the center line and jerk back, tires singing on the white edge stripe before it crossed back toward the center line. No license plate. She hit the siren.

  The truck hiccupped to a stop in the middle of the road. Loni pulled in behind, leaving her flashing lights and headlights on. She sat as a hulk of a man struggled with the pickup's door and fell out, hanging onto the swinging door. She hoped he wasn't a mean drunk. "Coco, come." Loni motioned for her to follow. The curly brown dog was close behind her as they walked up and waited for the drunk to struggle onto his feet.

  Shining her flashlight in his face, Loni recognized Charles Baker. Longtime rancher on a small place that barely made it, he did a little rustling of unbranded calves and milked a few of his own cows. The flat crown on his hat came from leaning into the cow's side. He had a grunge look without trying and smelled as if he drank the entire bar. As he let go of the door, he waved his arms wildly, trying to stay upright on wobbly legs. He was headed in the wrong direction from home but probably too drunk to know it.

  Turning off her flashlight, Loni kept her distance as they stood in the light of her SUV. "Hey, Charles, how's it going?" Age had etched deep creases into his long face, and too many bar fights had left him with a bumpy, crooked nose. She guessed his beard at about five days. He was fatter than she remembered, but he had kept the gander attitude of a cocky bully. Bare footed, he wore a holey undershirt under faded overalls. Even at five-foot-ten, Loni had to tilt up a long way to see his face.

  "Did you see that sombitch that was driving?" He waved his arm, vaguely pointing into the desert. "He jumped out and ran. Why ain't you chasing him?"

  "Well, hell, I heard that one before, Charles."

  "Well!" he slurred. "It weren't me driving." He tried to lean on the truck and fell flat on his face.

  Oh, shit. Trying not to touch too much of him, Loni helped him back on his feet and shoved him into the back of her SUV. Forcing herself back to his truck, she took a deep breath and climbed in, leaving the door open for fresh air. The smell, a mix of grease and cow barn, was one she had grown up with. She drove his truck to the side of the road and parked, hoping he would still have his tools when someone came to fetch it. "Hey, want me to call anyone to come get your truck?"

  He just kept shouting, "You lettin' him git away! Where you going?"

  Loni didn't answer.

  "I got cows to milk and kids to feed."

  "Oh, shut up. Your kids milk the cows." After that comment, Loni ignored him. By the time they got to the jail, he was asleep.

  "Take your hat off," she snapped at him as she pushed him into the station.

  Badly in need of a haircut, strips of his salt and pepper hair crossed each other in long greasy spikes. She thought about telling him to put his hat back on. "Looky here what I brought you, Bobby."

  "Well gosh, oh darn, Loni. I'm so overjoyed I'll just pull on my suspenders and shoot straight up."

  Laughing, she helped him book Charles. All the way into lockup he moaned and bitched about somebody else driving.

  "He got away with that the last time he was picked up." Bobby's sardonic expression said it all. "Guess he's decided to try it again."

  "Think the judge will buy it again?"

  "Would you?"

  Loni laughed all the way back to her SUV.

  * * *

  Back on Old Highway 85, she pointed the SUV toward the border through the desert plateau dark. She was sitting at her favorite speed
trap upwind from the Oasis Bar, drinking her last cup of coffee, when Bobby's voice broke into her peaceful thoughts.