Ticket Home

by James Michael Pratt

  “Mighty fine sermon and mighty fine service for your missus, Jason. I surely do appreciate your sorrow,” Warm Springs’ most senior citizen offered genuinely, grasping hands with the depot owner.

  “Thank you, Mr. Harrison.”

  “Please call me Harry.” He smiled.

  “Harry it is.”

  “Hello, Harry. Let me help you with that,” Norman offered, taking his lunch pail and thermos jug. “We’ll stow it right up here in the cab. Guess you are ready for fireman training?”

  “You bet I am.” The eighty year old winked.

  Jason turned to his son, his back to the old man. “That old fella will do fine. He’ll be good company too, while you boys are gone. And I’ll bet he can shovel coal as good as many a man.”

  Norman knew what his pa was up to, as if in saying so, it would make everything all right. “But you watch out and let me know how it goes to Redemption. Don’t want him tryin’ to do too much—overdoin’ himself I’ll get settled in the caboose, try to get some shut-eye. Send Lucian along to keep me company, will ya?”

  “Sure thing, Pa.” Norman would live the illusion for a while and then pray to God that his pa could handle the load he and Lucian would be leaving him.

  “Always wondered what it would be like to run one of these things.” Harry smiled as he took the engineer seat from Norman.

  “You look like a real old-fashioned steam-engine man, Harry. It suits you.”

  The steamy noise from the boilers, the roar of the coal fire burning, and the clack of the rails drowned out most small talk. The old man nodded in agreement to whatever was said and waved out the window to some children who stood by the rails.

  Norman smiled. Harry had found a pleasure that little boys feel when they get their first train set under the Christmas tree. It wouldn’t be the same for his pa as when he and Lucian were there, but the older man had a quixotic energy and vitality about him. It livened things up to be with him. Even if his pa would have to shovel most of the coal—Harry would be good for him and he would be good for Harry.

  “How’s Mary Jane?” Norman mouthed loudly.

  “Ehh? What’s that son?”

  “I say, how is Mary Jane?” he called above the roar.

  “Oh, Mary Jane. Well then. The letter just came day before yesterday. She arrived to some place called Santa Paula, out in citrus growin’ country north of Los Angeles somewheres. She likes it fine. Says to say hello. I think she likes you.”

  “Really? You think so?” Norman perked up. “Well I got to write her then. You wouldn’t have that address, would ya?”

  “Sure. Back at the house. Don’t you worry. I’ll give it to your pa. She is a feisty lady, that granddaughter of mine, but worth every ounce.”

  “Yes, sir. She surely is.”

  Mary Jane was a dream wafting across his mind every hour or so it seemed. He couldn’t put her out of his head. He was going to stay out here over fifteen hundred miles away in New Mexico while Lucian worked a month for traveling money and moved on to California.

  Well, he wouldn’t allow Lucian any slack on this one. He’d keep this information to himself. He should’ve laid Lucian out for that trick he pulled the day they took Mary Jane to the Redemption train depot. But then came the tornado and all. The weeks had gone by in a blur of emotion trying to figure out what each of the three Parker men would do.

  He knew one thing he’d do for sure. He’d take a week off right after National Guard training. He’d ride the rails out to California, see Lucian and find Mary Jane, and ask her to marry him.

  CHAPTER 13

  Santa Fe Line, San Diego

  “Tryin’ to get me up to the Santa Fe loadin’ docks in Ventura County,” Lucian called with a grunt. “Pretty blonde up there I’m fixin’ to see. At least I think she’s still there. Santa Paula is the town.”

  The big man grunted and passed the next crate along to Lucian who fit them neatly on pallets in a boxcar. “This military stuff gets old. Might as well join up for all this stuff we’ve been packin’,” the big man answered.

  “Yeah. I don’t care so much for the way these sailors and marines get all the girls neither. Don’t really seem fair that a uniform can do so much to a fella,” Lucian drawled with tobacco stuffed in his cheek.

  “Guess I should join up,” the big man reminded himself aloud. “I mean the pay isn’t much less than I’m makin’ now and they get free room, free food … and girls. Sure is temptin’.”

  “Yeah, guess so.” Lucian stopped and wiped at his brow. “Weather can’t be beat here in San Diego. Folks say it’s just as nice up the coast too. Like it a whole lot better than Oklahoma in the summertime. Nice cool breezes, salt air, and lots of bathing suits to ponder on down at the beach,” he smiled.

  “Yeah. Minnesota don’t have too many of them,” the big man said, pulling an apple out of his lunch pail.

  “Want a Coke?” Lucian called above the noise of a passing train, boarding calls, passenger talk. He walked a few paces to the cooler, flipping a nickel into the honor jar. The big man nodded.

  “What ya say we catch the late train up to that skinny dippin’ cove past La Jolla ways? Pretend we are marines on leave. We got a place back home in Warm Springs where bashful people don’t dare show up. The prettiest girl I ever laid eyes on … yes sir … not a stitch to her name when I first laid eyes on her. They say a dozen or so romp in the surf about midnight. Drunk as skunks on a hot August night … so they say. Heard some sailors talkin’ about it.”

  The big man grinned as he bit heavily into the crisp red apple. He slugged the Coke down without a breath and wiped at his mouth. “Be back by mornin’ shift?”

  “Just hop the Coastal Express there at Del Mar.” Lucian smiled. “Always a couple of flat cars to ride on.”

  “I could sure use a good—” He coughed choking on a piece of apple.

  “Swim?”

  “Yeah. Swim.” The big man laughed.

  “How long we worked together?” Lucian asked.

  “Three hours,” the big man answered. “You’re trouble in blue jeans. Know that?”

  “The name’s Lucian. Oklahoma is home,” he said, extending his hand.

  “Albert Handy from Minnesota,” the big man said. “Didn’t know if I was gonna like you at first.”

  “Me neither,” he laughed. “Look. You just get here to San Diego or what?”

  “No. I been working out on the line up in Imperial Valley. Talk about Oklahoma heat! Whew! It gets a hundred and twenty degrees in the shade some days. I got me this cushy loading job on account of the new government contracts happening all of a sudden. All this Jap attacking the U.S. bases talk. Just talk. Just rumors. But them boys are really mean son-of-a-guns, killing Chinese like swatting at flies. Know what I mean?”

  “Yeah. But they would be stupid—performing a monumental stupidity if you ask me, to think they could attack a U.S. base and win,” Lucian returned.

  “Yeah. Still the same, this old stuff left over from the last war is going to Philippines and Hawaii like it was going out of style. I was in the Guard back home. Still am, I guess. This stuff ain’t worth horse …” Al yelled above the noise.

  “Say what? What was that?” Lucian yelled as the sound of a passing train drowned them out.

  The big man mouthed it back louder. “Said I was in the Guard back home and this stuff ain’t worth jack …” More noise drowned him out. Al continued, “Fuses don’t blow, bullets don’t fire, rifles missing springs, rusty bolts … you name it. We aren’t ready for no war.”

  “My brother is in the Guard. New Mexico. I almost joined with him,” Lucian replied.

  “Thought you said you was from Oklahoma.”

  “I am. But the closest outfit is New Mexico. Besides, he works for the Santa Fe there and we got kin and all who were joining up.”

  “So why didn’t you join?” the big man asked, still yelling above the sounds of passing trains.

  “Don’t care much for
the military life, but just in case something hits the fan I might go back and join him for a while. For now I’m a college boy at night. Going to school at San Diego State nights, up in Los Angeles next fall if things work out. Gonna look that girl up that ways too.”

  “Just as well. If we got attacked and the Japs or Germans didn’t kill ya, this stuff probably would.”

  Lucian understood. His father had gone to battle in the First World War. The present gear, ammunition, boxes of aged bolt action Springfields, old grenades, weren’t comforting—no match for the new German weapons. That concerned him some, but not the Japanese. They were no threat. They were butchers just killing their own kind, he thought.

  “Well. Guess we best finish this up and get on to acting like marines on leave … what ya say, Al?”

  The big man threw a crate marked FIELD RATIONS and grinned.

  “Some say a man should take it nice and slow. Women like that. So they say.”

  “Suppose so,” Lucian answered not wanting to tip his new friend off. He’d had no experience. Nothing to base how to treat a woman on, except for some outings in groups in high school and watching how his pa treated his mother. Acted like a darned fool around that pretty girl in Warm Springs. At least Norman had been cool—collected, a gentleman.

  “They say women like to talk a lot, feel understood,” Al muttered.

  “Who says that?”

  “Some woman writer in Life magazine. Read it just the other day. Says they like to be noticed for looks, but need understanding,” the big man added as the train clicked off another mile north along the Pacific Coast. “Sure pleasant out here. A man could live forever in this sunshine.” He smiled and lay back, head on the small duffel bag he had brought along.

  “Would need someone to share it with. Sure enough could be pleasant,” Lucian agreed as he cast his gaze out to the blue waters shimmering with a tint of orange as the sun pulled the shades of evening down with her.

  “How far is Encinitas?” Al asked, relaxed now as the flat car clanked along the tracks.

  “Oh, I’d say fifteen minutes and we best be ready to roll off into the easiest sand dune we can land on. We are in La Jolla now.” Lucian pointed at the sign.

  “So these bathing beauties are a sure deal?”

  “Every Friday night—so says those sailors I talked to at the station.” Lucian smiled.

  “Boy … I haven’t seen anything prettier than these California girls,” Al pondered aloud.

  “I have,” Lucian said under his breath. “I surely have.”

  CHAPTER 14

  “Some cove. Some beach loaded with skinny-dippin’ mermaids anxious for a little fun,” the big man grumbled.

  “I could have sworn them sailors said Encinitas. Come on, let’s ask around.”

  “No way I’m gonna make a fool out of myself. There a good bar around here?”

  “Awe, come on, ya sore-head. This ain’t no time to get drunk. We gotta find some women, catch a midnight swim. Maybe we just got off the train too soon,” Lucian assured, slapping the big man on the back. “Come on,” he said motioning with his hand.

  The two men ran across the highway to a small grocery store. The whitewashed door swung open on creaky hinges, the only sound disturbing the faint crashing of waves on the beach across the road.

  “Hello!” Lucian called. “Anybody here?”

  “Don’t get rattled. Hold your darn horse. Might know someone would call the same time Mother Nature did. Now what can I do for you boys?” A slender, bespectacled man in country overalls came from the back of the store to the front counter.

  “Kinda lonely out here.” Lucian smiled.

  “Just this time of night,” the store owner replied. “What you boys doing way out here on foot?” he asked, looking out the window, noticing no sign of a car.

  “Just hopped a train from San Diego. Lookin’ for some sailor buddies. They told us to meet them and some girlfriends here. For a swim.” Lucian smiled.

  The store owner nodded, appearing not to grin. “The cops run them off two weeks ago. Indecent exposure, they called it. Handcuffed a few sailors then let ’em go. I think that party moved to La Jolla Cove back that-a-way.” He pointed south.

  “Much obliged. Say you got some cold drinks of some sort?”

  “You boys servicemen?” the store keeper asked, heading for a cooler.

  “We’re military ammo loaders on the Santa Fe. Servicemen? We sure are.” Lucian grinned.

  Al looked on admiringly at the smooth ways of his new work associate.

  “Here you go. On the house. You boys just keep them Japs way out there in the Pacific where they belong and you can have a soda on me any time.”

  “Sure thing, mister. That’s mighty kind. You must be an Oklahoman. Friendly as you are and such.”

  “Nope. Ohio is home. Seems everybody around here is from somewhere else. But don’t suppose that means much to you boys just yet. Settle down some, and you’ll find this to be the best mix of people under God’s great sun.”

  “I hope to settle down soon. I sure do like California and all. Well, we best be goin’ to find our friends. Say, you sell Lucky Strikes? For my friend here,” he said digging in his pocket for a quarter dollar and laying it on the counter.

  “Two bits will do it,” the proprietor said, handing him the pack with the big bull’s-eye.

  “Whew. Them just got expensive. Here ya go, big Al.” Lucian smiled. The store owner didn’t blink.

  “Consolation prize,” the big man grumbled breaking the pack open and pulling his lighter out of his trouser pocket.

  It was sunset and the next train wouldn’t be by for another couple of hours.

  “Guess we try to hitch a ride,” Lucian suggested as they crossed the highway to the beach side of the road.

  “Not much traffic.” Al nodded at the northbound lanes, blowing smoke in puffs as he contemplated the ruined evening.

  “Best be walkin’. Hear any sound of cars, stick that big thumb out of yours. I’ll do the same.”

  A half-hour went by with two cars headed in the opposite direction. The sound of an approaching vehicle prompted the two to turn around and toss their thumbs out begging for a ride to La Jolla. The tan Packard convertible skidded to a halt yards ahead and the two ran to find three females giggling and fighting over how to share the space.

  “Howdy,” Lucian drawled. “You girls can’t be offerin’ us fellas a ride now, could ya?” He grinned. Al threw down his cigarette and crushed it under his foot.

  “You boys look like you could use a ride into town. What ya say girls?”

  The big man hopped into the backseat with a pretty redhead before Lucian could muster up a word of thanks or ask where they should sit.

  The brunette at the wheel with her hair pulled back was laughing as she looked in the rearview mirror to see her friend setting the big man straight about how close he was to get.

  Lucian hadn’t been able to make out the face of the shy girl, the passenger who began to scoot over in the front, making room for him to take a seat. He threw his small bag in back with Al and looked at her, trying to get her to reveal a turned-away face. “Hi, my name is Lucian,” he offered with an outstretched hand as the driver pulled back onto the road.

  Stunned, the reluctant blonde with a red scarf covering most of the wavy golden locks turned abruptly to the man seated next to her. She wore sunglasses concealing her eyes. Removing the eyewear she looked intensely into his smiling eyes. “You!”

  Lucian’s smile widened. “Well, how do you do, Miss Harrison?”

  CHAPTER 15

  Four Months Later, Santa Paula, California

  “Loading oranges on the Santa Fe is fine for some but I’m goin’ to school in L.A. next month. Picked me up a job at the downtown warehouses with the company USC accepted my San Diego State credits. Gonna go to school days and loadin’ nights. Yes sir … I’m stayin’ out here, Norm. And ooh la la, the California girls!” He grinned.

/>   “I got to be back for training in thirty days. The Guard unit is heading down to Fort Bliss for regular training. You ought to join up.”

  “Norman, you’re too serious about workin’ and what is all this playin’ army about anyway? There isn’t gonna be no war.”

  “Lucian, there just might not be. So what’s with your ROTC classes you just said you enrolled in at USC if you don’t think it’s possible? Besides twenty-five dollars extra per month is twenty-five dollars extra and it puts me near Pa and home. I can send him the fifteen dollar land payment and go home just about once a month, and I’m fixin’ to buy me the abandoned Dearborn spread the other side of the springs. This Depression is turnin’. Things will get better, be pickin’ up. Gonna find me a good woman and settle down.”

  “Mary Jane?” he quizzed nervously with a feigned grin, tossing a plump orange to his fellow worker Al, who had followed him from San Diego.

  “Nice ripe one,” the big man grinned, peeling and then biting into it.

  “You haven’t seen or heard of her yet, have you?” Norman quizzed, tossing a crate of oranges on top of another.

  “I hear she has gone to work in Los Angeles. Waitin’ tables and goin’ to school,” Lucian tried to say without interest in his voice.

  “Who says?” Norman quizzed.

  “Folks here knew her folks. They moved on to Fresno awhile back.”

  “Well. I think I’ll pay a visit on my way back to army boot camp. Won’t hurt. Guess old Harry Harrison could tell me where she is if I put in a call to the depot back home,” Norman mentioned casually as he tossed another crate onto a pallet headed for the cooler.

  “How’s Pa, anyway?” Lucian asked changing the subject.

  “Guess the whole town turned out to help him put the damaged walls to the depot back up. No house, just a couple rooms for living quarters attached to it. He’s a real proud man; but he accepted the help. We should’ve been there,” Norman added, grunting as he laid another crate up in the stack.