PIONEER,
go
home!
by RICHARD POWELL
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
New York
Copyright © 1959 Richard Powell
THIS BOOK PUBLISHED SIMULTANEOUSLY IN THE UNITED
STATES OF AMERICA AND IN CANADA COPYRIGHT UNDER
THE BERNE CONVENTION.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the permission of Charles Scribner's Sons.
C-2.59[H]
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 58-5786
The title of this book bears a relationship, probably quite distant, to the phrase which has won a certain amount of popularity since World War II in Europe, Asia and Africa: "American, Go Home!"
—THE AUTHOR
Pioneer,
GO HOME!
1
NONE of this would have happened if Pop had minded what the sign told him. The sign was on a barrier across a new road that angled off the one we was driving on, and it said, "Positively Closed to The Public." But after all his years of being on relief, or getting Unemployment Compensation and Aid to Dependent Children and things like that, Pop didn't think of himself as The Public. He figured he was just about part of the government on account of he worked with it so close. The government helped Pop, and Pop done his best to keep the government busy and happy, and they was both dependent on each other. To tell the truth, I reckon if it hadn't been for Pop, a lot of the government would have had to pack up and go home.
The five of us—Pop, and the twins, and the babysitter, and me—had been taking a vacation trip down south during March and some of April. Pop had needed a rest. Back in February, after he finished a spell of Compensation, Pop had wore himself to a nub trying to figure should he go on relief or should he work long enough to take another crack at Compensation. You might think he would naturally pick relief, but it wam't that simple. Pop wanted to go on Social Security at sixty-five, but he hadn't put inenough time at work to make out good on Security. So it was a matter of balancing relief on one side against a job and Compensation and Security on the other, and it was an upsetting thing for Pop and he had needed a vacation down south.
The vacation had picked him up a lot. So now we was starting back to New Jersey, and Pop figured he would do a little work so he could pick up credit on Security and line up another round of Compensation.
It was a nice warm day in April. Pop's old car was running good and there warn't much traffic on the Gulf Coast Highway and everything was fine until we come to the new road. Just before we reached it there was a big sign by the road that said:
ANOTHER BETTERMENT PROJECT FOR HIGHWAY UTILIZATION
—GOV. GEORGE K. SHAW STATE OF COLUMBIANA
I read the sign and wished I knowed what it meant and wished we had governors in Jersey that knowed words as big and fine as that. Beyond the sign was a new road angling off to the left, with the barrier across it and the little sign saying "Positively Closed to The Public." Pop swung the wheel of the car and snaked by the barrier and onto the new road.
"Didn't you see that sign, Pop?" I asked.
"Yep," he said.
"You didn't do much about it."
"I went around her ruther than knocking her over, didn't I?"
"I don't think they meant for you to go around it, Pop. I think they meant for you to stay on the old road."
"It's headed the way we want, ain't it, Toby? It can't cut back inland without crossing the old road. It can't swing west without going into the Gulf of Mexico."
"It could end in a mangrove swamp."
"I'm willing to trust the government not to send me into no mangrove swamp. I been trusting the government a long time and it never let me down."
Well, I didn't argue with Pop because when he gets set on something you can't budge him with a bulldozer. I knowed why he was taking the new road. He didn't want to be classed with the Public, that was all. So I set back and enjoyed the ride. The new road was a two-lane blacktop that ran through some mighty empty country. What I mean is, it might seem like nice plumped-out country to a gator or pelican but it run a little lean on people. It put me in mind of the Jersey barrens except the pines warn't so scrubby, and you don't find palmettos and palm trees in the barrens. Now and then the road come to patches of mangroves and to a bay, and it would hop-scotch over a couple islands before getting back to the mainland again. Pop was right about the direction. It was heading north in a pretty straight line. I looked at the road map and saw that the road we had left, the Gulf Coast Highway, was making a big bend inland, so we might be saving a lot of miles if this new road went all the way to Gulf City where we figured on staying that night.
We drove mile after mile and I didn't see a living tiling but a couple of herons in the shallows, standing around
waiting for a minnow to make a false move. They put me in mind of the way them doctors at the Veterans Administration hospital stood around looking at me, when I first come in to see if they ought to put me on Disability. I had felt kind of sorry for them fellers, because they was doing their jobs, and if I had knowed what kind of a false move they was looking for I would have made it if I could. I even kept telling them my back was as good as new. But the more I told them, the more they shook their heads and said no, it was easy to see I warn't all right at all, and not just in the back, either, and they would have to put me down for Total Disability.
"Pop," I said, "I think this vacation done my back a lot of good."
"You mean it hurts worse, Toby?"
"I mean it feels better."
"Turn around and let me give her a poke and see."
"I'd ruther you didn't poke it, Pop."
"Turn around, Toby Kwimper."
There warn't nothing else to do, so I turned and got set and Pop began poking.
"Does it hurt there, Toby?" he asked.
Anybody who ever got poked by an axe handle would know how Pop's finger felt, jabbing into my back. "Couldn't you poke easier, Pop?" I asked.
"I got to prove to you it still hurts."
"It hurts, all right."
"Well then, Toby, your Pop just saved you sixty-six dollars and fifteen cents a month. How many young fellers only twenty-two years old can count on sixty-six dollars
and fifteen cents coming in every month, rain or shine, Republicans or Democrats?"
"I reckon not many, Pop. Only I don't know as I feel right about it."
"The Army takes a man's son and lets him pull his back all out of kilter lifting a six-by-six truck out of a mudhole, and the least they can do is—"
"It warn't no six-by-six. It was just a little old jeep."
When he wants to, Pop could give an old hound that don't want to be kicked away from the fire lessons on looking sad. He give me one of them looks, and said, "I reckon a man shouldn't hope for no thanks from his boy no matter how much he does for him. If I hadn't come to Fort Dix that time to see how you was doing, you would of had a bad back all your life and never knowed it."
"I'm sorry, Pop. I guess you are right."
"Then don't let me hear no more about that back of yours feeling good."
We rode on a piece and I began wondering how the twins and the babysitter was getting on, in the back seat. The twins are seven years old. They been living with Pop and me since they was real little, after their folks tried to beat a train across a grade crossing and only come out tied. I don't know just what kin they are to me. Some say the twins are my cousins and some say my uncles. All us Kwimpers are related to each other half a dozen ways, what with living in Cranberry County, New Jersey, since the Year One and getting married to each other when there warn't nothing
much else to do. Matter of fact you would have trouble finding anybody in our part of the county who isn't a Kwimper. Except of course the babysitter, Holly Jones. She come to Cranberry County a few years back, a thin little kid with stringy hair and big scared eyes, and asked one of my aunts and uncles could she stay a while with them. Nobody ever got out of her where she come from or why, but she was a nice kid and handy to have around. Pretty soon folks stopped looking down on her because she warn't a Kwimper and decided it was good and democratic to have a Jones around.
I turned and took a look at them in the back seat. The babysitter was in the middle. Eddy was on her right and Teddy on her left, or maybe it was the other way around. It's not easy to keep track of which is which. Both them twins have corntassel hair and blue eyes like all us Kwimpers, and of course they look alike, but that's not the big problem. The trouble is they don't want nobody to tell them apart. As soon as you put a mark on one to sort of pin him down, the other won't rest happy until he gets it too. A couple days ago Pop bought Eddy a T-shirt with a sailfish in front and bought Teddy one with a tarpon in front. Well, those kids swapped shirts back and forth so fast it looked like sailfish and tarpon jumping all over the place, and in five minutes you couldn't tell which twin was which. And most of the time them twins won't tell you which is which, neither, on account of that way you dassent blame Eddy for doing something bad because maybe he isn't Eddy.
When I looked around, the twins and the babysitter was sleeping. That is, it looked like the twins was sleeping, but there was something funny about the way Eddy, on the right, had his eyes squinched shut. You got the feeling he was wide awake. I watched, and sure enough he was up to something. He was sliding his left arm slow and quiet along the back of the seat, past the babysitter and clean around the other side of Teddy's head. Then he cocked his middle finger against his thumb and let fly at Teddy's left ear.
Teddy must have thought he just lost an ear, but all he did was tighten up and not even open his eyes. I kept watching on account of it isn't often you catch one of them twins at something so you really know which one done it. Nothing happened for maybe five minutes, and I could see Eddy getting set to snake his arm out for another snap at Teddy's ear. But just then Teddy moved so fast it wam't easy to follow. In about two blinks he had a rubber band out of his pocket and let fly with a big paper wad at Eddy's nose and was back in his corner all peaceful with his eyes closed. The wad hit Eddy's nose but he didn't even squeak. The rest of his face seemed to curl up around his nose, though, like it was sorry for the nose.
I should have stepped in right there but it looked to me like they was even and might quit. I should have knowed them twins never figure things are even. Without any warning Eddy leaned forward and bounced a punch off Teddy's eye, and Teddy grabbed Eddy's arm and bit into it, and all of a sudden they was down on the floor of the car going at each other like a couple of buzz saws would do if they got to fighting over the same log.
The babysitter come to with a jerk and said, "Boys! Boys!"
You might think nothing but dynamite would have busted them two apart, but like magic they was sitting back in their places. "Yes'm?" Eddy said. "Yes'm?" Teddy said.
"I'm ashamed of you," the babysitter said. "Eddy, did he start it?"
"No ma'am," Eddy said.
"Ah-hah," she said, turning to Teddy. "So he started it, did he?"
"No ma'am," Teddy said.
"Then you each must have started it at the same time."
Eddy said, "We fell on the floor."
"On account of," Teddy said, "the car stopped too quick."
Pop called, "Holly, don't let him get away with that. This car didn't stop."
Eddy said, "We would have fell on the floor if the car had stopped quick."
"We was dreaming the car stopped quick so we fell on the floor," Teddy said.
"All right," the babysitter said. "If that's the way you're going to act, we'll practice a lesson."
"We don't even go to school yet," Eddy grumbled, "and we got to have lessons."
"There won't be nothing to look forward to, by the time we go to school," Teddy said.
"We will start by doing the alphabet," the babysitter said firmly. "Eddy, you begin."
Eddy said all in one breath, "A-c-e-g-i-k-m-o-q-s-u-w-y."
Like a flash Teddy chimed in, "B-d-f-h-j-l-n-p-r-t
-v-x-z."
Then they both looked at her so proud and happy you would think there hadn't been no alphabet before and they had just invented it.
"No indeed," the babysitter said. "That isn't the way we do it. Each of you has to learn the whole alphabet, not just every other letter."
Eddy said, "Why can't we split the thing up like any chore?"
"Lookit the work it saves," Teddy said.
"We're going to learn it the way everybody learns it," the babysitter said. "All right, Eddy. Start again and do the whole thing this time."
Eddy let out a groan a couple sizes too big for him, and said, "A . . . um . . . inn . . ."
"B," Teddy said helpfully.
"Oh shut up," Eddy said.
"Who you telling to shut up?" Teddy said.
"Boys!" the babysitter said.
"Yes'm?" Eddy said.
"Yes'm?" Teddy said.
This sounded like where I come in, so I stopped listening on account of things could go on like that for an hour. I turned back to watching the road.
"Pop," I said, after a spell, "did you take notice we haven't passed a house or a gas station or an orange juice stand the whole time we been on this road?"
"It's a new road through country that ain't been built up, Toby. It stands to reason it would take time to get them things."
"It don't take time after you build a new road to get cars on it. We haven't seen another car." "The public was told to stay off this here road, that's why."
"You don't think there would be a reason why the public was told to stay off, Pop? Like maybe the road ending in a mangrove swamp like I said?"
"Why would a road want to end in a mangrove swamp?"
"They could have run out of money."
"Toby, the government don't run out of money. It's only folks that run out of money."
I looked at the gas needle and seen it was hovering over Empty. "What do you figure the gas tank says, Pop?" I asked.
He looked and said cheerfully, "I figure she says empty."
"That's what I figured too, Pop. This don't look like a place I would pick to run out of gas."
"Toby, I never seen such a boy for getting his teeth in a chatter. Them gauges is built to try to scare folks. When she says empty, she's got two-three gallons left in the tank."
"Yes, Pop, but how long has it been saying empty?"
"Goddam it, Toby, if you had a gauge on that head of yours, it would have been saying empty ever since you was born. You let me do the worrying."
Just then the car give a polite burp. Pop stiffened. We run on a hundred yards and it burped a couple more times.
"Dirt in the gas line," Pop said, and tromped on the gas.
The car went into a fit of hiccups. Pop reached down
and swatted the gas gauge, and the needle died on empty like he had mashed it there. The car give a few shakes and stopped cold.
"Goddam it," Pop said. "Wouldn't you think a gas tank would warn a man before it quits on him?"
I seen by the look on his face it wouldn't make Pop any easier to live with if I said he was wrong. So I didn't say nothing. And anyway, Pop had a point. When you trust a tiling to be lying to you, it isn't fair of it to turn honest all of a sudden.
2
WHERE we run out of gas, the road had just come off the mainland and was going along a fill dredged up from the bay. A little ways on there was a wooden bridge and then a bunch of mangroves tiptoeing into the water on their roots. Beyond that was either an island or another piece of the mainland. When you looked around you got the feeling nobody had ever been there before, except of course th
ey must have been to have left the road.
The twins come out of the car like wads from a double- barrelled shotgun and went chasing up the road. The babysitter kited along after them to make sure they didn't try biting it out with no panthers. Pop and I settled down to wait for a car to come by and help out. Anyway Pop did. I couldn't get my mind off the fact we hadn't seen no cars since we got on the new road. After a while the babysitter brung the twins back, and we got out a map and tried to figure where we was. It warn't easy on account of the map didn't show the new road at all. Pop reckoned we had come forty miles on the new road. That would have been right helpful except Pop didn't know where we had left the old road.
"There ain't no need to worry, though," Pop said. "I look for one of them state highway patrol cars to come along any moment and give us a loan of some gas and maybe not even make us pay for it."
Well, we set there and it began to get dark and we turned on the lights so the highway patrol car would know we was there. The light didn't bring nothing but a few bugs. There warn't no skeeters, either because it was the dry season or because they didn't want to get mixed up with folks who was brung up on Jersey skeeters. All of us began remembering lunch had been a long time back. The babysitter poked around in the car and come up with a carton of six pop bottles and some chocolate bars the twins hadn't chewed on much, so we had some pop and chocolate.
Then we set around some more, and finally the babysitter said, "Do you know what I think?"
The babysitter don't say nothing most of the time except to them twins, and so it kind of startled Pop and me. I reckon we hadn't ever figured the babysitter done much thinking that grown-ups would want to hear about. "No," Pop said, "me and Toby don't know what you think. But we wouldn't mind hearing, would we, Toby?" It was nice of Pop to talk that way, so she wouldn't get scared off.
"What I think," the babysitter said, "is that the battery is running down and we won't have any lights pretty soon."
Pioneer, Go Home! Page 1
