by Jackie Lynn
“We’ve got trouble,” was all she said.
TWELVE
Rose headed up the path away from Thomas’s trailer and toward the highway. She sent Thomas to look for Chariot down near the river. Rose figured that it took her about thirty minutes to walk to the office, have her conversation with the sheriff, and then walk back to Thomas’s. She assumed Chariot hadn’t gotten too far. Rose wondered if Chariot went back to her tent, but she decided that the young woman had probably headed in the direction of the interstate. She guessed that Chariot had assumed the police were there for her and she had run off on her own.
Rose walked on and realized that she did feel a little angry that Chariot hadn’t obeyed her. She was a bit perturbed that the young woman hadn’t stayed where she was, but had instead, taken off. She softened a bit, however, when she considered that Chariot was afraid and she had no real reason to trust Rose. They had, after all, only just met.
Rose hurried along the path in the dark. She stumbled a bit, but she managed not to fall. She called out Chariot’s name a few times, but she never heard a response. She knew the dirt path was about four miles before it intersected with a paved road that led to Highway 55. She moved on, wishing she had worn better walking shoes, and wondering if this was even the direction that Chariot had taken.
“Girl, where on earth did you go?” Rose asked out loud, not expecting an answer. She walked along the path, shaking her head.
“Help.” It was a faint cry.
Rose stopped to listen. “Hello?” she called out.
There was nothing.
“Chariot, is that you?” Rose asked.
“I think I’m hurt.” The voice came from the woods.
“Chariot?” she called again.
“I fell down,” the voice replied.
Rose headed in the direction of where she thought she had heard the voice. She moved to her left. She stepped through the tall grass and into the edge of the woods. When she got to the first row of trees, she looked to her right and saw Chariot sitting on the ground holding her right foot. Rose dropped down beside her.
“What happened?” Rose asked.
“I was running and I just slipped and fell,” Chariot replied.
“Let me look,” Rose said. She felt around Chariot’s foot and ankle. “Does this hurt?” she asked as she examined her.
“Yes,” Chariot responded, wincing. “Maybe it’s broken,” she added.
“Well, maybe,” Rose replied. She sighed. She probed a bit more and felt the ankle swelling, but did not notice any bones protruding through the skin or any other signs of a fracture. “I think maybe you just sprained it,” she said, slowly releasing Chariot’s foot. “We should get it looked at though,” she noted.
Chariot didn’t respond.
“Why did you run off?” Rose asked.
Chariot dropped her face and shook her head. “I just got scared,” she replied.
Rose sighed. She stood up and looked around to see if anyone had followed her. She wondered how long the sheriff would wait before coming to search for the missing girl.
“I’ve always run,” Chariot said softly. “As long as I can remember.” She leaned against the tree. “From my daddy when he would beat my mama, from my mama when she finally killed him, from bad relationships and places where I wasn’t accepted. It’s what I know best. I always run,” she repeated.
Rose waited before responding. She dropped her arms by her side and then she squatted down beside Chariot and leaned against the tree, too. She was surprised by Chariot’s honesty, but she understood what the young woman was saying. Rose had developed her own habit of running away from things after her mother died. It became the way she also handled everything. Rose knew that she had spent her lifetime trying to get somewhere other than where she was, always trying to get away from something—the loneliness, the abuse, the anger, she was never sure. She just knew that escape was a coping mechanism that she was familiar with.
“I have a little girl,” Chariot suddenly announced. “I quit running when I had her.”
Rose turned to look at Chariot. She was surprised by the news. She didn’t respond.
“I’m supposed to have custody of her in a few months.” She stopped. “I mean, I was going to have custody of her,” she said. “Now, I’ll probably never see her again.”
Rose couldn’t see her, but she could hear Chariot begin to cry. She reached over and took the girl by the hand.
“Tell me what happened,” Rose said.
Chariot waited and then began. “I was in trouble a lot,” she said, wiping her face. “I got messed up with drugs and running around with the wrong crowd. And then I got pregnant and I wanted to be clean for the baby. For the first time in my life, I really cared about somebody other than myself and something other than just trying to get away.”
Rose nodded. She thought about the conversation she had had with Ms. Lou Ellen about Rose being a mother. She thought again about motherhood, wondering how it would feel if she suddenly discovered she was pregnant. She wondered if it would have a calming effect on her like it did on Chariot.
“Jason and me were going to get married and find a nice place to live in Pierre. I had a baby shower and had a good job. Everything was finally coming together for us. And then, it fell apart. I got arrested for something I had done a long time ago, something I was told had been dismissed. But it turned out to be this case that had to do with some big drug deal and everybody involved got prison time. I gave birth at the infirmary and right after she was born they let me hold her a few hours and then they took her away, gave her to foster parents.” Chariot took a breath.
Rose did not respond. She could only imagine the pain of having a child taken away from her.
“She’s been in the same home since she was born. The foster mother is real nice and she lets me see her a lot. She brought her to prison and sent me pictures. And I only had to serve two years. And then I was told that if I showed that I could get a job and stay clean, that if I kept my appointments with my parole officer and took some parenting classes, and if I didn’t leave the city of Pierre, I could get Constance. Have her with me.”
Rose waited for the rest. But there was nothing more said. Chariot grew silent and Rose finally understood that not only had Chariot lost her boyfriend, by fleeing South Dakota, the young woman had also lost rights to the custody of her daughter. Suddenly, the secret that Rose had guessed about was out in the open. Chariot was a mother and this mother had lost her child.
“You can still get custody of your daughter,” Rose said, trying to sound optimistic. “We just need to get this mess cleared up.”
“I just don’t think it’s that easy,” Chariot responded. “If the police think I killed Jason, I got no chance to get Constance back. They’ll make sure I never see my little girl again.”
The two women sat for a few minutes in silence. Rose was trying to figure out what they should do. Even with the new information about a baby, Rose knew that the sheriff was still waiting for them at the office. And she knew he wouldn’t wait much longer. She also knew that if he thought Chariot had run, he’d be harder on her and less likely to believe her story about a police officer being involved.
Rose knew that Chariot’s injury was not too serious, but that it would prohibit them from being able to walk too far. She thought it might be best if Chariot just stayed where she was, but with all that had happened, she didn’t really want to leave her alone. She was standing up when she noticed headlights coming in their direction. Someone was driving toward them, coming from the interstate. Chariot saw the lights, too.
“Just stay here,” Rose whispered to Chariot.
The truck rolled beside them and stopped. Rose waited and then stepped out of the woods.
“You need a ride?” the voice from inside the truck called out.
Rose peered closely at the vehicle, trying to see if she recognized it or the driver. She felt a bit nervous and motioned again for Chariot t
o stay hidden behind the tree. She studied the truck and waited to respond.
She leaned closer and then suddenly smiled.
“What you doing out here, Willie?” she asked.
The old man grinned. “Just driving around in the moonlight,” he replied.
Rose leaned down and reached for Chariot. She pulled the injured girl up from her seat and helped her walk down the embankment toward the truck. Old Man Willie opened the driver’s door and jumped out to help the women.
“Miss,” he said with a nod, greeting Chariot.
Chariot stopped and glanced at the man standing before her. “I know you,” she said.
Rose turned to Willie. She was surprised that Chariot would have met one of the other campers at Shady Grove.
The old man didn’t look at either woman. He simply helped Rose get Chariot to the truck, opened the door on the passenger’s side, and helped her in.
“You chased down the papers when that wind came when I was setting up camp. You caught one, the most important one,” Chariot recalled as she slid across the seat.
“He found the birth certificate for Constance. He caught it and brought it to me,” she reported to Rose, who was getting into the truck beside her.
“He came in the wind,” Chariot said to Rose.
Willie didn’t reply. He shut the door and walked around the truck to get in.
“Willie,” he said as a means of introducing himself. “My name is Willie.”
“Chariot,” she responded to him. “Chariot Stevens.”
“How did you know where to find us?” Rose asked, assuming that he was looking for them when he drove down the path in her direction.
He shook his head. “Not too many places to run down by the river,” he explained.
Rose nodded as if she understood, but she was still curious as to why Old Man Willie knew to look for them. She tried to remember if she saw him at the office when she had met with the sheriff and then realized that didn’t really matter at that moment.
She took in a breath and turned to Chariot. The truck didn’t move. Willie seemed to be waiting for instructions.
“What do you want to do?” Rose asked.
“I guess I don’t have a lot of choices,” Chariot responded.
“Not with your injury,” Rose noted. “I think you need to get it looked at,” she added.
“I could run,” Chariot said. “Nobody else knows where we are, do they?” She turned to Willie as if he might have an answer.
“I suspect they’ll find you,” he replied. “The sheriff’s pretty good at his job. And Rose is right, you can’t get far with that foot.”
There was a pause as the truck’s engine continued to idle.
“I don’t know what to do,” Chariot said, wondering how many times she had said that sentence in the last three days.
Rose shrugged. “I don’t know, either,” she responded.
“What about you, Mr. Willie?” Chariot asked, appearing as if she somehow trusted the man in the truck. “What would you do?”
Old Man Willie shook his head and paused. “I can’t tell you that,” he finally said. “I made too many messes of my own life to try and direct the path of somebody else’s.” He rested his hands on the steering wheel, looking straight ahead.
Chariot and Rose watched him. They both saw the weathered way he held himself, the wiry arms, his long skinny brown fingers. Chariot smiled when he reached into his back pocket and handed her a handkerchief. She took it from him and wiped her face.
“Thank you,” she said, handing it back to him.
Rose studied the driver. She hadn’t heard Willie say this many words the entire time she had been at Shady Grove. She was surprised that he was there, suddenly appearing out of nowhere, and she was also surprised that he was talking so much.
“Just keep it,” he said. And then he turned first to Rose and then to Chariot.
Chariot nodded.
“I trust them at Shady Grove,” he said.
His words surprised Rose again. She and Chariot listened.
“I was in trouble a lot,” he confessed and turned away, placing his hands back on the steering wheel as if that steadied him. “And they always took me in.” He nodded. “Always saw the right thing for me,” he added.
Rose watched as Chariot followed his eyes and looked down the road ahead of her.
“I suspect if they know about things, they’ll take care of you, too, even the sheriff. He’s tough-minded, but he’s fair and he won’t let nobody hurt you,” he said. “And you won’t find no better friend than that woman sitting next to you.” He nodded at Rose who smiled. He drew in a breath as if he was going to say something else, but he didn’t. He just nodded and the two women could tell that he was done.
Rose let Chariot sit with the information. She didn’t think there was anything else to add. Chariot was going to have to make her own decision about what to do. Rose was not going to force her to do anything.
“I have a little girl,” Chariot said, sharing her news with Willie.
“Yep,” the old man replied. “I figured you to be a mother.”
Rose stared at Willie. She was amazed at the insight he had. She wondered why he had never talked to her like he was talking to Chariot.
“I’m afraid I’ve lost her,” she said, reaching over and taking Rose by the hand.
“You know where she is?” he asked.
Chariot just nodded, not understanding why he was asking that question. “She’s in a foster home, in South Dakota,” she replied.
“Then it’s okay,” he responded as if he were delivering the most logical explanation there was. “You can’t lose somebody as long as you know where she is.”
Rose smiled. Chariot took in a deep breath, waited for a minute, and then made her announcement.
“Take me back then, Mr. Willie,” she said. A lone tear snaked down her cheek. “Take me back to Shady Grove.” She reached up and wiped away the tear.
Rose looked out the window as Willie put the truck in gear and headed to the campground.
THIRTEEN
Old Man Willie drove his old pickup down the path, past Thomas’s trailer, past the cemetery that was now a memorial site given in memory of Lawrence Franklin, and past the row of trees where Chariot’s tent was pitched. The path wound around and he moved ahead without saying a word. He drove slowly, methodically, hoping that the time he was taking would help Chariot and Rose prepare for what they were getting ready to face.
Chariot had asked if she could stop by her tent and when they pulled up beside her car, finally arriving at her tent, he told them to wait. He turned off the truck and stepped out from his side and then walked over to the passenger’s side. He opened the door and held out his hand, helping out Rose and then Chariot. He moved with them as the two women walked to the tent.
Chariot walked gingerly, her ankle now as swollen and blue as a party balloon.
“You hurting?” Rose asked.
Chariot nodded as she leaned against Rose.
Willie unzipped and held open the flap of the tent while Chariot hopped in. Rose let go of her arm and let Chariot go in by herself. She decided to let the young woman have some privacy.
On the way to the campground office, Chariot had asked to stop at her makeshift residence so that she could collect a few things she wanted to take with her. She wanted to secure some items before she went the few extra yards up the path and turned herself in.
Rose and Willie waited, patiently and politely, as Chariot went inside and changed clothes, choosing something warmer and more comfortable. They heard her as she made a few noises to indicate she had twisted her foot in the wrong direction or put too much weight on it, but neither of them interrupted or stuck their head in to check on her. They decided that if she needed something she would let them know.
Chariot gathered her purse that Rhonda had retrieved from the service station and finally packed a small bag with a few personal items. She hobbled out o
f the tent, looking somewhat refreshed, and handed Willie the keys to her car, along with the little canvas bag. “Would you watch my stuff for me?” she asked.
Rose watched the two of them, still surprised at the apparent connection between them.
The old man nodded and took her keys, placing them in his pants pocket, and the bag, which he carefully placed in a space behind the seat in his truck. He opened the door and Rose helped Chariot back in the passenger’s side. Willie then walked over to get in himself. He started up the engine, put it in gear, and drove toward the direction of the office.
“You okay?” Rose asked as the patrol cars and the group gathered around them came into sight.
Chariot nodded.
They pulled up just as Rhonda and Lucas were coming down the driveway from the other direction. Everyone turned toward the noise of the motorcycle engines. The loud roar of two Harleys called for more attention than Old Man Willie’s pickup truck. The two patrol cars were still parked near the office, and the two officers and several people with them were standing around the office steps.
Sheriff Montgomery was just getting ready to go searching for Rose and Chariot when he glanced in the direction of the truck driving up. He eyed the driver for a minute, figuring it was just Willie wanting to hear what was going on. After realizing that the driver was not alone, however, he leaned back against the hood of his car and nodded. Willie pulled up next to him and stopped.
Rose, still unsure of what she was going to say to the sheriff, how she was going to explain where the girl had gone, was the first one out of the vehicle. She told Chariot to remain in the truck.
“I was just about to come looking for you,” the sheriff called out.
Rose stepped toward the officer.
“That her?” he asked.
Rose nodded and turned back to the truck. Willie jumped out and walked around to the passenger’s side. He helped Chariot out and she leaned against him.
“Chariot Stevens,” Sheriff Montgomery said as the girl hobbled toward him.
She nodded as she leaned against Willie, holding him by the hand.
