“They’re here at the same place every Saturday,” said Captain Sykes. “They’re Navajos mostly. They come all the way from Flagstaff to sell their wares.”
As I looked straight west I could see a building with a shiny copper dome at the end of Washington Street. It had a winged angel statue on the top. The captain told us that the building was the State Capitol where the governor had his office. “Around here, Johnny Atkins is like a dictator,” he said. “What he says goes, and nobody can beat him at the polls. They keep trying to get him to run for Senate, but old Johnny turns them down. He thinks that would be a demotion, I guess. Fortunately, he’s my friend. In fact he’s promised to make me Chief of the Highway Patrol. The man there is retiring next year.”
I didn’t much care about the captain’s future, but the fact he was so close to the governor made me hopeful he could help Sara and me. When I glanced over at him, he seemed lost in thought. Then I looked at Sara to make sure she was okay. She seemed oblivious to everything except her Raggedy doll. She was shutting it all out I figured.
I started feeling uneasy again when we headed out that same gravel road toward the detention center. “Why are we goin’ this way?” I asked him.
“The county hospital’s out here—right next to the juvenile jail,” he answered. “That’s what I call it anyway. We’ve got some mean kids in there, waitin’ to be sent down to the Fort Grant reform school south of here. You’re not going back there so don’t worry about it.”
Ten minutes later, he pulled into the state shop and waited in the hot car while a skinny guy in torn dungarees filled up the gas tank. After that we drove another half mile, then pulled up at a long frame building painted a dull gray. So this was the county clinic where Papa was, I thought. My heart started to pound at the anticipation of seeing him. I tried as best I could to tell Sara that Papa was in there and he was alive. She probably didn’t understand but she smiled and kissed her doll.
We walked up some wooden steps and into a big receiving room that smelled like antiseptic. There were two old men lying on wheeled gurneys at one end of the room next to a hallway. They had a hopeless look.
“They’re being transferred to the state hospital,” said a fat woman in a starched white uniform. She got up from a small desk and approached us. I noticed that she walked funny, with her legs rubbing together making squeaky sounds. She introduced herself as Cora Malcome, the head nurse. “Our lockup ward is that way,” she said. She pointed to the other end of the long room, where a uniformed guard sat next to a door with steel bars on it from floor to ceiling. The governor, Miss Atkins and Dr. Kessler were there already, along with Judge Knapp, who seemed to be anxious to get the visit over with.
“We’ll have to hurry,” he said impatiently.
Then we all went into the locked ward, the guard holding the door for us. There were six beds in the ward, all filled. “Mostly gunshot wounds,” said the guard. “Too bad they weren’t killed—it would save the county some money.”
I saw Papa then. He lay very still. Dr. Kessler was standing over him. “I’ll be looking after your dad,” he told us. “I volunteer for a shift twice a week here.”
“Thank heaven we’ve got a few doctors like you who care enough to help out,” said the governor. “This damned depression is making criminals out of poor men and skinflints out of rich ones.”
Sara broke free and ran to Papa, burying her face on his chest. He didn’t respond at first, then his eyes flickered as he raised his arm slightly. Then he closed his eyes again as his arm drooped.
“He’s been coming and going,” said Dr. Kessler. “I can’t figure how he survived at all. With all the blood he lost he should have been dead twice over.”
“What are his chances?” asked Miss Atkins, who pulled Sara away and held on to her very gently. She was looking right down into Papa’s face.
Dr. Kessler shook his head slightly, then looked at Sara and me. “He has a bullet lodged near his heart. There’s been lots of internal bleeding. We’re going to try to take it out. If we don’t, he doesn’t have much chance. We’ll see what happens.”
I felt myself well up with tears but Sara didn’t react. She just clutched Raggedy harder.
Miss Atkins reached down and placed her hand on Papa’s forehead. “He’s so cold,” she said, “and he looks so peaceful. I can’t believe he’d be violent.”
Captain Sykes looked over at us then like he was upset about something. “Let’s go out in the hall,” he said to the others. “The children need some time to be with their father.” He motioned them toward the door, then turned to me. “We’ll be back in a few minutes, Billie. You and Sara can have some private time with him.”
Sara just stood there after they left, clutching Raggedy. Then I saw a tear fall down her cheek. She walked over to Papa and put her head on his chest. He didn’t move. I could hear the others talking behind the door. Finally I couldn’t stand it. I rubbed my eyes with my shirt tail, then walked to the door and put me ear up to it.
It was Captain Sykes who was talking. “Anyone can be violent, Jessie,” he said, “depending on the circumstances. Sometimes it gets out of hand. After a man’s been in a few fights he forgets how to be decent. Especially the boxers. I’ve seen it more than once. They step into the ring once too often and they can’t ever step out of it. Even the white ones.”
“That’s the point,” Miss Atkins responded. “He’s so powerful he could have killed me easily.”
“You probably shot him while he was attacking you,” said the captain. “If you hadn’t had that gun in your purse, you’d be dead. He’s so strong that he probably hardly felt the bullet. He must have grabbed the gun out of your hand and shot you before he fell. If you hadn’t hit him in the head, well, I don’t want to think about it.”
I felt angry inside as I listened to him. He didn’t know Papa. Papa wouldn’t have done that.
“I was thinking about that money you found,” Miss Atkins continued, “I had about two hundred twenty dollars when I left Needles, California. But you only found twenty dollars. Not to mention someone took the diamond ring off my finger. What bothers me is that Mr. Moran didn’t have any of it and neither did the children. Maybe there’s something to Billie’s story about the two strangers.”
“I don’t know about that,” said the captain, “but we did search the kids. We even checked out their old truck. What clothes they had were in their suitcase. I’ve got it in the trunk of my patrol car. Though now that I think of it, we didn’t check the little one’s doll.”
There was a pause for a second, then I heard someone turn the door handle. I stepped quickly over to the bed and wiped my face again as they came in. Captain Sykes walked over to us then put a hand on each of our shoulders. “Let’s all say a prayer for him,” he said as he bowed his head. We were silent for a little while, then I heard him quietly say “amen.” Then he looked down at Sara, who was holding onto her doll as usual. “He’s strong as a bull,” he said softly. “With any luck he’ll pull through it.”
Sara just kept clutching Raggedy. She didn’t look at Captain Sykes at all.
“That doll is certainly special to you,” said Captain Sykes. “Would you be willing to share her for a second?”
Sara didn’t understand him, so I pulled the doll away from her very gently. She looked puzzled as I handed it to the captain.
“Here,” I said, “there’s nothing in it but stuffing and Mama’s locket. Go ahead, open it up. Mama put a zipper on the back.”
He gave me a surprised look. “You were listening to us, weren’t you?” he asked.
I just shrugged.
He seemed a little embarrassed as he took the doll, unzipped it and pulled out the stuffing of rags and old newspaper. He felt around in them until he finally found the heart-shaped locket. “Well that certainly proves me right,” he said. “There’s nothing there but the locket. I didn’t think you’d have it, but I’m obligated to check. You understand that, don’t you
Billie?”
I gave a little nod.
Then he stuffed the packing back into the doll and started to replace the locket where it came from. Only Miss Atkins came over and took the locket from him, then gazed at it for a long time.
“May I open it, Billie?” she asked.
I looked at Papa as he lay there still as ice. “If you want to,” I said quietly.
When she looked inside it, she pushed her lips together in a kind of sad smile. The pictures in it were portraits of Mama and Papa taken on their wedding day. Miss Atkins closed it and handed it to me. “They’re such a beautiful couple,” she said.
“My mother’s dead,” I said flatly. I felt the tears come up again.
“I’m sorry,” said Miss Atkins. “I’m so sorry.” Then she walked over to me and knelt down to give me a hug.
“He didn’t shoot you!” I said angrily. “One of those boys did.” Then I grabbed the doll from the captain and put the locket back in. I zipped it tightly and handed it to Sara.
“All right, enough of this,” said Captain Sykes. “It’s getting late in the day and I have to work tonight. Come on you two, let’s head for the homestead.”
We followed him outside into the parking lot. When we got outside, Sara and I started toward Captain Sykes’ patrol car while Miss Atkins came running after us. When she finally caught up, she reached down and hugged Sara. “Your dad’s going to be okay,” she said. “I just know he will be.” Then she put her hands on Sara’s shoulders and looked into her face. “I had a little girl like you,” she said. “A long time ago. I miss her.”
Sara looked at me quizzically. I just shook my head. Then I turned to Miss Atkins. “You and your husband should have another baby,” I said in my grown-up voice.
Miss Atkins smiled sadly and put her hand on my shoulder. “I’m not married anymore,” she said. “I’ve had my tragedies. Just like you two.” When I realized she was a widow, I looked down at my shoes. Then I looked back up at her nodded. I couldn’t find words to say anything.
“Take good care of them, Charles,” said Miss Atkins as she looked at the captain. “I’m holding you responsible.”
“You don’t even have to say it, Jessie,” he answered. “Of course I’ll take care of them.” Then we pulled out of the hospital drive and drove a ways to a gravel road where we turned south. It was a different road than the one we’d come on. We must have passed a hundred little frame and adobe houses. Kids were playing in front of some of them. We finally turned off on a street named “Ninteenth Avenue.” I could see railroad tracks with parked boxcars on the west side of the street.
“A freight train comes through here every night about ten,” said the captain. “They usually stop and add cars on. You’ll hear the locomotive sound its horn when they start up again. I don’t know why, but it always makes me feel good.”
We drove past a big, square, clay hill on the right that had steep sides and a flat top. Behind it was a ragged-looking, dug-out area that went on for a block or so. Broken bottles and trash were strewn all across it. I saw kids there, too, riding bikes up and down the little hills and valleys. “That’s the old brick yard,” said Sykes. “The brick company dug up the whole block then just left it when they moved. Now folks use it as an illegal dump. I don’t know why people let their kids play there. They found a dead girl there not long ago.”
He glanced over at me to see if I’d heard him. “I’m sorry, Billie. I shouldn’t talk about that stuff. I’ve been a cop so long that I can’t stop being a cop.” Then he pointed north to a collection of shanties. They looked like they were made of corrugated tin and old lumber. A few of them were just cardboard. “Speaking of eyesores,” he said, “there’s another one.”
I studied them through the window as we drove by. There must have been at least a dozen kids out there. Some of them were throwing dirt clods at one another. They looked happy. Poverty didn’t mean much to them, and it didn’t to me, either, honestly.
“We call that ‘Shanty Town’ but some folks call it a Hoover Camp,” said the captain. “Times are hard. Lots of folks have to live that way, I’m afraid. The neighbors around here don’t like it. Folks blame them for all the crime in the area.”
“I’ve lived in tough neighborhoods before,” I said bluntly. “I know how to handle myself.”
The captain looked over and grinned. “That may be the case, but it’s not a healthy place for kids. If they stay there long, they usually end up in trouble. The police patrol here pretty regularly but it doesn’t seem to stop the robberies. Or the other stuff, either.”
“What other stuff?” I asked dumbly.
He looked at me again, but this time he didn’t smile. “Not stuff I want you to think about.”
It was then that it hit me. I’m not sure what triggered it—maybe his tone of voice. I kept thinking “we have to get out of here.” I tried to tell myself it would be okay, but I couldn’t stop my thoughts. It wasn’t that I thought he wanted to hurt us, but somehow I had a bad feeling.
Further on we passed packing sheds where cantaloupes and lettuce were being sorted and loaded onto boxcars. The cantaloupe smell was overpowering. Then I saw why. They’d piled cantaloupes into big mounds where a lot of them were rotting. If Sara and I had to escape, I thought, we could probably live on nothing but cantaloupes, at least for a little while. After we drove a little further, the captain flicked on his turn blinker at a place where three main streets crossed. “This is Six Points,” the captain told us as we stopped at a traffic light. “Over there,” he pointed north, “is the State Fairgrounds.” I looked in the direction he pointed and saw some big buildings with rounded tops like airplane hangars. Right beside them was an empty grandstand.
“We have the rodeos and the horse races there during the fair. I’ve got a horse good enough to race this year. I’ll introduce you to him.”
When the light changed, we turned west and headed out a gravel road with big ditches on either side. Alongside them grew rows of shade trees. The trees made me think of our house in Arkansas. They buried Mama under an oak tree, I kept thinking. I tried to hold it in, but somehow the tears came. I felt his hand on my shoulder as we drove into his driveway.
4
When we arrived at Captain Sykes’ place, we saw that it was set back from the road, all by itself. It was a big frame two-story house with a porch in front. We turned onto a little bridge crossing the irrigation ditch and parked in front of the house under a giant tree. To the west I could see a corral and some horses.
‘Let’s get inside so you can meet my wife, Vergie,” he said as he herded us along. “She knows you’re coming. Fortunately, our son Tommy has his own apartment. You two can share his room tonight. It’s got two beds in there.”
“Who was the second bed for?” I asked.
The captain turned and looked at me with a sad expression. “My older son. He’s been gone a while.”
“Did he move away?” I asked.
He shook his head bleakly. “No. He’s dead. He was married to Jessie—Miss Atkins. That’s why I know Jessie and the governor so well. That was a long time ago.” His words seemed strange and out of place. I just stood silent for a while.
“What happened to him?” I asked.
“We don’t need to talk about that,” he finally said.
The captain sounded almost angry, like it was my fault for making him remember it. He jerked my arm a little as he pulled me toward the house. “Let’s go in,” he said. “The Mrs. will like having children here again. But don’t even mention that I told you about our son.”
Mrs. Sykes was a slender lady with a kindly face. She had graying brown hair pulled back in a knot like the one Mama used to wear. Her eyes twinkled when she saw us.
“So you’re Billie Jane and Sara,” she said, giving hugs to both of us. “And, of course, you’re Raggedy Ann,” she said to Sara’s doll. “I think you’re all going to be happy here— after you eat, of course. That’s what we’re goi
ng to do first, have dinner.”
The smell of hot biscuits wafted from the oven. Sara and I were almost desperate to eat; we hadn’t anything but oatmeal that morning. Only before all that we had to wash up in a tiled bathroom that had a toilet with an overhead flush chain. I let Sara use the room first, only she didn’t know how to flush the toilet. When she finally came out, I took her back in and showed her how to work the chain. We flushed it again after the bowl filled, just to watch it work.
Mrs. Sykes served chicken and dressing. I eagerly ate a second helping, but it wasn’t as good as Mama’s. Sara ate a lot, too, but not as much as I did.
“My, oh my,” said Mrs. Sykes. “I haven’t seen appetites like that since my boys were your age.” She smiled sadly. “It’s good to have you here,” she added. “I hope you can stay with us.”
“It’s only until we find permanent placement,” said Captain Sykes. I wasn’t sure whether he was talking to his wife or to us. After dinner, Sara and I helped Mrs. Sykes with the dishes—we wanted to be as helpful as we could, even though we were exhausted. Before bedtime, Captain Sykes took us out to meet his horses, but Sara was too sad inside to show any interest.
“That’s all right, honey,” the captain said kindly. “Tomorrow you can see them again when you’re feeling better. Oh hell, I keep forgetting you can’t hear me.”
We went back into the house and bathed one at a time in a giant claw-foot tub. It had a hookup like the toilet. You could pull a chain that turned a faucet on. Back at our farm we’d always used a tin washtub.
After we were fresh, the captain and Mrs. Sykes led us into a hallway. I noticed a telephone on the wall as we walked toward a door at the far end. Captain Sykes opened the door, then led us into a dark, wood-paneled room with a couple of book shelves. The room smelled of mothballs, like they’d packed old linens away not expecting to use them again. I walked over to one of the bookshelves and pulled out Tarzan.
Summer of the Guns Page 4