The Burgenton Files

by C. Ruth Daly

  “I dunno. But Mom and Dad will kill her if they knew what she was doing!”

  And we turned in the opposite direction of the church and ran the way that Gil’s truck was headed.

  We were panting hard by the time we raced the three blocks to the corner of Vine and Grant Streets where we saw Glynda and her youngest brother Rodney sitting on the big boulder by the Armory. Rodney was sucking on a sucker and the sticky goo was plastered around his mouth. It was apparent that Rodney had pulled his blue sweater over his head while eating the candy because blue fuzz held tightly to the corners of his mouth. Rodney was a frail child who had been born with a cleft palette. A deep uneven scar split his upper lip making it look like one of his brothers had performed the surgery with a fish gutting knife. By the time Rodney was four-years-old he had lost his left eye to a pellet when his oldest brother took a shot at him, mistaking his black hair peeping around the corner of their garage for a crow. Poor little Rodney: disfigured and covered with sticky candy and lint. The pity stopped when he opened his mouth.

  “Naaa, naaa. You dumb and ugy. You wunning. You steenk like you pass gas.” And he laughed harder, lurching forward and tumbling off the boulder.

  “Shut up Rodney and get back up here.” Glynda yelled, grabbing him by the seat of his pants and dragging him back onto the rock.

  The sucker had made a depression in the dirt, yet Rodney still tried to stick it in his mouth as Glynda pulled the six-year-old back on top of the rock.

  “Glynda!” Breathlessly I asked her my question. “Did you see Irish drive by in a pickup—Gil Rolf’s truck?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I see twuck. I see Iwish dwive twuck. She dwive weal fast. She wen dat way weal fast.”

  “Oh stop making things up Rodney. I’m going to tell Mom you’re fibbing again.”

  “No. I see Iwish in twuck.” Rodney pulled the candy from his mouth and seriously motioned it in the direction of my house. It was also the direction of Ned Hollis’s house.

  “We need to get Irish before she gets in trouble.” Anna grabbed my shoulder and shook it. She didn’t know what Glynda and I knew about New Year’s Eve.

  “What’s going on?” Glynda wanted to know.

  “Glynda, Irish drove by in Gil’s truck and Gil is under house arrest. Why would she have his truck?”

  “I dunno.”

  “We better find out. Now!” Anna was panicky.

  “Well, let’s go!” Glynda grabbed Rodney’s hand and I grabbed the other and the four of us ran up the street with Rodney’s feet dangling between Glynda and me.

  After three blocks we turned right down the alley and raced toward Grandma Becker’s house. Rodney was bouncing between the two of us, still gripping that sucker stick between his teeth.

  We stopped at Grandma Becker’s house and pounded on the door. There was no answer.

  “Oh, she’s at church tonight crocheting Easter baskets for the needy. Well, we’re just stuck with Rodney.” Glynda was breathless and exasperated.

  Rodney was finally able to talk and he waved his sucker stick at Glynda.

  “No. Me stuck wiff you. Gwa’ma. I wan’ my Gwa’ma.”

  “Shut up Rodney, and I’ll buy you another sucker tomorrow. Okay?”

  We jumped off the side porch and could barely see the truck parked behind the huge lilac bush on the corner of Hollis’s property.

  “Is Mr. Hollis home?”

  “No, Donna. I don’t think so. Miss Brennan said she and Mr. Hollis were going away for a few days during spring break. They went to Michigan or someplace like that.”

  “So Miss Brennan isn’t home, either?”

  “What’s going on you guys? We need to get Irish before she ends up arrested.” Anna had a single mission.

  Then we saw Gil Rolf slip out of the passenger’s side. He was dressed in dark clothing and had a dark stocking cap on.

  “Oh no! He’s robbing the place and Irish is helping him. Oh great! They’re like Bonnie and Clyde!”

  “Shut up, Donna!” Anna was furious. “Let’s get over there and stop them before the police do.”

  We ran across the street and surprised Irish and Gil from behind. Gil jumped about three feet in the air when he heard us.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Gil screeched.

  “What hell you do’in? Rodney asked now waving a limp sucker stick at Gil Rolf. The six-year-old showed no fear.

  Gil stared at Rodney and moved his head back and forth making sure it wasn’t the shadows of the evening casting a distorted appearance to the child.

  “What hell you do’in?” Rodney stood with feet firmly planted on the ground and hands on his hips.

  “Shut up Rodney.” Glynda pulled hard on his arm.

  “Bad Gynda.” Rodney whimpered.

  “What are all of you doing here?” Irish’s voice was shrill. Not just shrill from our surprise appearance but shrill from the sheer nervousness of the situation.

  “What are you doing here, Irish?” Anna was very insistent.

  “Look. Will all of you leave and not tell ANYone you saw me?” Gil no longer sounded like a person in control.

  “Guys, Gil needs to find something out. What he’s doing isn’t bad and he’s not stealing. Well, not really stealing but well, maybe a little...”

  “Irish! Keep your mouth quiet!”

  “Gil, they’re not going to tell anyone.”

  “What are you looking for?” I wanted to know.

  “It has to do with New Year’s Eve, all right? No one needs to know. I just need to prove something because the police in this town and county are too damn stupid to know anything.”

  “New Year’s Eve, Gil? Does it have to do with Linda Miles?”

  “Yeah...”

  “Well, I uh and um Glynda and Lori Bell Jameson saw what happened because we were at Grandma Becker’s house that night. I didn’t tell anyone, but Brian Reynolds barely made it to his car because he was so drunk. And well, while he was passed out in his car Linda Miles went in behind him and Mr. Hollis stood on his door stoop and watched. He went back inside the house... then before I fell asleep, I heard a car door slam and then the car start up. I’m sure it was Brian’s car.”

  “What time was it, Donna?”

  It was the first time Gil Rolf had called me Donna. He seemed human right now and the thought of his humanness startled me into silence.

  “So, what TIME was it?” Gil was demanding now and his eyes turned into the black slits I knew.

  “It was about 3:00 in the morning.”

  “Look. I’ve got to get into this house and see if I can find something. You guys need to get lost. Irish, watch for me.”

  Then Gil Rolf slipped on some black gloves and stealthily made his way to the back door and into the Hollis residence.

  The four of us ran back across the street with Irish’s persistence while she stood guard and watched the streets around the house. After about ten minutes Gil came back out and we lit back across the street to the Hollis house.

  “That was easier than I thought.” Gil said, tossing a roll of film up and down and catching it.

  When he grinned he was rather handsome.

  Suddenly one of Burgenton’s finest rounded the corner. Luckily, they drove on by and then we heard the police car stop.

  “They must have spotted my truck!” Gil exclaimed.

  We all looked at each other with sheer fear in our eyes. Gil jumped in the driver’s seat and told the rest of us to get in and get down. Anna, Glynda and I hoisted Rodney over the tailgate and the four of us laid flat against the bed of the truck while Irish slid in by Gil. Then he jolted the truck in reverse, then forward and we were flying down the alley toward the highway with Rodney whining, “Gwa’ma!” and “What hell he do’in?”

  The thought crossed my mind too and I wondered what the hell Gil Rolf was doing. A good half-hour had passed since we met up with Glynda and Rodney. Glynda was worried about not being home on time while Rodney
sobbed for his mom and grandma.

  Glynda’s arm was fastened across Rodney while the four of us lay prone on the truck bed. I lifted my head to see the starlit sky moving fast above us as we headed out of town.

  The sound of a police siren followed us.

  Clutching the bed of the truck with my fingers, I held on for dear life. The police car was gaining speed as we careened down the straight highway.

  “We’re going to die!” Anna moaned as we jerked around a corner and turned onto a winding road with the police siren not far behind. The truck sped through the night as I muttered a Hail Mary and asked God’s forgiveness for ditching the Stations of the Cross. With a sharp turn the truck jerked onto a graded road.

  Gil’s pickup truck bounced along the road and tossed us back and forth while my head banged against the wheel well cover.

  Glynda wailed, “Oooohhh! Make him stop!” and “Oooohhh!!! Oooohhh!” with every bump in the road we hit.

  Suddenly the truck swerved and skidded as a doe and her fawn pelted in front of us. The vehicle did a complete U-turn as the four of us slid across the bed of the truck rolling against each other like marbles in a box. The lights of the police car were faint in front of us now as Gil jerked the gears in reverse and then did a complete U-turn again only this time dragging us part way in a ditch along the road. My body smashed against the wheel well while Anna, Rodney and Glynda pressed against me. The sudden jerk and side-winding through the ditch caused even more turmoil in the truck bed with Rodney screeching cries of sorrow and all of us screaming for our lives.

  The police car did not have the clearance to continue covering the grades in the road and the sound of the siren grew fainter as Gil sped across the county making sharp turns at every corner until we could no longer hear the sound of Officer Moore’s siren. The truck slowed slightly, enough for me to crawl up to the passenger’s window and stick my head in. My shoulder bounced against the cab frame.

  “Irish, WHAT is going on? Where are we going?”

  “We’re taking the back roads to Gil’s house. We’re almost there. Are you guys okay?”

  I pulled myself down into the bed of the truck. “Are you guys okay?”

  “Oh gross. There’s water all over the place!” Anna cried as she felt the front of her pants. Anna had been positioned between Rodney and me.

  “I sowwy. I go pee-pee when twuck go wound and wound.” Rodney whimpered and then burst into tears again.

  His sobs filled the air as we hit smooth pavement flying over the road to make the last miles to the Rolf’s farm. The truck fishtailed down the gravel lane as Gil careened through potholes, splashing mud from previous rains against the wheels of his truck. The truck came to a stop and Gil jumped out.

  “Don’t get out yet!” Gil commanded as he ran to the barn and opened the doors. Before we knew it, we were all inside the safety of the barn.

  “Okay. Now you can get out.” Gil was breathless and shaking. The seriousness of the moment fell upon all of us as Gil ordered us inside the house. Inside the coziness of the kitchen we heard the faint sound of a police car.

  “Now! All of you get down to the basement!”

  Without time to ask questions we ran down the stairs. Rodney, draped over my shoulder, had stopped whimpering—his little body shivered against mine from the cold dampness of his pants.

  Gil took us to a corner where there was a hollowed out niche in the wall positioned behind the ductwork of the furnace.

  “Get in here!” Gil quickly explained that the house was on the National Register for being a way station in the Underground Railroad. “This is where the slaves used to hide. Now keep quiet!”

  Then he ripped of his stocking cap, gloves and black sweater to reveal a white T-shirt beneath. Gil threw his clothes into the hole and quickly ran up the stairs. Soon we heard him talking to Officer Moore. Three voices were audible in the kitchen and it appeared that Officer Moore had called in the county sheriff for support.

  I whispered to Irish, “The Underground Railroad?”

  In the dimness I could see Irish shrug her shoulders.

  “It is possible.” Anna reported. “The slave hunters would travel this far north in search of runaway slaves.”

  “This is just weird.” I murmured.

  Glynda was quick to agree. Rodney, now sucking his thumb, snuggled against his sister.

  After about ten minutes, but what seemed like hours, Gil returned to the basement.

  “They’re gone.” He said in a steady smooth tone. “That dumbass Moore didn’t get an accurate description of the truck he was chasing. There’s no way they can suspect me now.” Gil looked relieved.

  “Come on. We need to get you guys home.”

  Irish drove one of the farmhand’s cars back into town. The worker had left his car and keys at the Rolf’s farm while he had taken a Rolf farm truck out for an overnight trip.

  By the time we reached the Myers’ house Rodney was fast asleep. I carried Rodney in the house behind Glynda.

  “Where have you been?” Mrs. Myer was furious. “It has been over two hours since you told me that you were going to play at the armory!”

  Rodney began to stir and then started sobbing. “Bad man dwive fast in twuck. Po-leese go fast and chase us. Voom, Voom.”

  “Oh, Rodney’s just fibbing again!” Glynda was quick to respond. Then she whispered into Rodney’s ear, “Remember, big sissy will buy you lollipops.”

  Glynda continued, “We met Donna and her sister Anna by the armory and then the four of us went to the Catholic Church playground to play on the swings. We didn’t know how late it was. We were just having so much fun.”

  Mrs. Myer seemed skeptical.

  “You see Mrs. Myer, Anna and I had to go to the Stations of the Cross for awhile and Glynda decided to wait for us. We got there late and when it ended, we went back out to play with Glynda and Rodney. Then Father, you know, the priest, came out and asked us if we wanted to put the cardboard squares on the bottom of the candles that we use during Easter Vigil Mass. Before we knew it, it was later than we thought. My sister Irish went to church to pick us up and well, we’re sorry we kept Glynda and Rodney out past the time they should’ve been home.”

  Mrs. Myer stood solidly with her arms crossed. She relaxed her stance and quickly muttered that Glynda should have come home first or called from the rectory to let her know what they were up to.

  Glynda and I murmured our apologies while Mrs. Myer picked up Rodney and carried him up to bed.

  “Talk to you tomorrow?” I said to Glynda and held out my index finger. She locked her finger with mine and we shook on it. This night was definitely a secret to remember.

  “Wait till we tell LBJ!” I whispered as we said our goodnights.

  ELEVEN

  It was the afternoon of Easter Sunday and the Holy Season had officially ended. Things were relaxed around the McNally household as Dad was home from work and watching TV in his recliner. Mom was playing Scrabble with herself and talking for both players in the game. Tim was sitting in a corner of the living room gorging on jelly beans. Anna was snoozing off sixteen-year-old hormones and Irish had been invited to the Rolf’s house for Easter dinner. I saw my opportunity for escape.

  “Mom, I’m going over to see if Glynda had a good Easter.”

  Mom hummed an answer back at me between strategic moves with herself on the Scrabble board.

  I strolled the few blocks to Glynda’s house and found her brothers outside in the front taking shots at squirrels on the telephone wires. There was little Rodney with a pellet gun in one hand and a chocolate beheaded rabbit melting in the other.

  “Where going, Domma?” he asked.

  “Is Glynda here?”

  “No. Gwa’ma’s. She’s at Gwa’ma’s.” And he smiled a big grin showing he had lost a front tooth.

  “That’s great, Rodney. Is the Tooth Fairy coming tonight?”

  “No. Me can’t find toof. Dumb toof got stuck in bummy and now in my
tummy.”

  He stood there with a pout. Once again a victim of unfortunate circumstances.

  “Sorry, Rodney.” I patted his head and half-skipped and half walked to Grandma Becker’s being careful to appear not to really skip but only seem in a serious hurry.

  A block from her house I noticed a bright orange Porsche pull up in front. Out stepped Ned Hollis who dashed to the passenger’s side and opened the door for Rita Brennan. Rita reached her hand out for Hollis who gently picked it up and placed it against his lips. I could not believe it, but Rita Brennan stood there with her right foot delicately raised in the air. It was too much. I had to break the moment with my obnoxious anger. I was still disappointed in Rita Brennan’s vulnerable gullibility.

  “Hey Rita, how’s it going?” I yelled as I sprinted to her side.

  “Oh, hello, Miss. I see it’s you again. Your timing is incorrigible.” Hollis gazed steadily at me.

  I didn’t know what incorrigible meant, but I knew the tone of voice when someone was irritated with me. So I gritted a smile at him.

  Rita turned to Ned and laughed lightly while placing a soft hand on his chest.

  “Oh, Ned!” She laughed that airy laugh again.

  “So, did ya have a good trip? I’ve never been to Mackinac Island. How was it?”

  “It was wonderful, Donna.” Rita threw that airy laugh my way and then fixed her eyes on Ned Hollis.

  I was out of things to say and my stomach was beginning to churn from her lovey-dovey looks so I said my good-byes and ran around to the backside of the house by Grandma Becker’s kitchen. It was one of the best places to be on or around the holidays. Inside the kitchen Grandma Becker was stationed at the counter with a huge mass of dough, kneading it methodically back and forth and side-to-side. Glynda sat at the kitchen table munching on a sugar cookie with pink icing.

  “Hi!” I said as I knocked on the screen door and then proceeded to open it.

  The weather was sufficiently warm enough now to have only a screen door protecting the room from the outside weather.

  I picked up a cookie from the plate in the center of the table and sat down to join Glynda in the simple pleasure of an Easter morsel. We sat and munched quietly. The kitchen was silent except for the slapping of the dough against the wooden kitchen counter. Without warning came a loud thud from the apartment above.