“Naw, I want it to be just you and me.”
“We need the car right now, little pussy,” he whispered in her ear, then grabbed her earlobe with his teeth and nibbled on it.
“He left the keys. We could just drive off and leave him.”
Homer chuckled. “Yo’re a real pisser, sugar teat. He’d call the sheriff, and we’d have to hole up somewhere.”
“He’d do that?”
“Wouldn’t put it past him. Tell ya what. Get all dolled up tonight, sweet pussy, and we’ll go out huntin’. Now that I’ve got you to partner up with, it’s time we got another car. If that old lady back at the garage saw this one, she’s told the cowboy and yore old man. They’ll be on the lookout for it.”
“She couldn’t of seen it. We parked down the road and went through the woods.”
“I got it all figured out how we can get our hands on some money and buy our own car.”
“Foley had money, but he wouldn’t give me any. He wore a money belt around his waist and wouldn’t take it off for anything. No chance of us getting that.”
Homer grabbed her face and turned it to his. “He wouldn’t take it off even to get naked with ya?”
“No.” Her lips formed the word. He was holding her face so tight she couldn’t speak.
“The poor, stupid son of a bitch!” His fingers dug into her cheeks to force her to open her mouth before he kissed her as if sucking the life out of her. “Yo’re a wicked little bitch with the face of an angel” he breathed. “Ya like it rough, don’t ya?”
Her fingers dug into the back of his neck. She pinched the small nipple on his chest so hard that he grunted.
“Yeah, and so does my horny stud.”
Chester jerked the car door open. They broke the kiss, and Homer said, “Well?”
“Far end. Bed and a cot.”
Sugar groaned.
Homer laughed. “Don’t worry, little puss. Uncle’s a sound sleeper.”
Later, after they had eaten at a diner, they went back to the cabin so Sugar could put on what Homer jokingly called her working clothes—a modest blue dress with a round low neckline. She brushed her hair back and fastened a blue bow at the side with a bobby pin. When she was ready for Homer’s approval, he took a cloth and wiped off some of the rouge and lipstick.
“Yo’re just a sweet little girl. Remember? Now, ya know what to do. We’ll let you out a block from that fancy hotel. When one a them well-dressed dudes comes out, turn that sweet innocent little face up and let out a little groan. Act like yo’re hurtin’ real bad. He’ll take ya past that alley like he had a string tied to his pecker.” Homer kissed her, careful to not smear her lipstick.
“I’d like to tie a string to your pecker and lead you into a dark alley,” Sugar whispered seductively, and heard Chester snort. The freedom to talk dirty was one of the things that excited her most.
Acting as if setting up a man to be robbed was something she did every day of the week, Sugar, looking beautiful and seductive, her black hair tumbling around her face and shoulders, got out of the car a block from the hotel.
She was nervous about what she was about to do but was determined that Homer not know it. She had learned a lot about herself during the past twenty-four hours. This was the exciting life she craved, far removed from that hick town in Missouri and from poor, dull Foley Luker and his two equally dull and stupid kids.
Sugar walked confidently down the street until she reached the hotel, where she pretended to stumble. She let out a little cry of pain and hobbled to the side of the building, where she stood on one foot and rubbed her ankle.
“Oh, oh!” she cried as a well-dressed man came out of the hotel.
“Miss? Miss, are you hurt?”
“I’ve sprained my ankle.” Sugar grabbed his arm as if she were about to fall and looked pleadingly into the face of a man with gray hair who wore an expensive suit and a brown felt hat. “Oh, dear. Oh, me. I’ve got to get down the street to the car. If my husband comes back and I’m not there, he’ll … be so … mad …” She let her voice fall away.
“Where is your car?”
“It’s … it’s right down there.”
“I’ll help you. Hold on to my arm.”
“Thank you, sir. Oh, thank you.” Sugar held tightly to his arm and took hopping steps.
“Will you be all right until your husband comes?”
“Yes, but it … hurts.”
“We’ll take it slow.”
When they reached the alley running alongside the hotel, Homer stepped out and rapped the man smartly on the side of the head with a sap, caught him as he fell and then dragged him into the dark alley. He quickly stripped him of his wallet, a pocket watch and a ring. He stuffed them in his pocket, took Sugar’s arm and walked with her leisurely down the street to where Chester waited in the car.
“How’d I do?” Sugar said after they had sped away.
“You’re a natural, little puss. Let’s see what we got. Whee,” he said after he had counted the money he took from the billfold. “Fifty-two dollars, the ring and the watch.”
“Did you kill him?” Chester asked.
“Naw. I just gave him a little tap on the head. He’ll wake up in the alley with a whale of a headache, wondering what hit him.”
“It was exciting,” Sugar exclaimed. “And easy. Where are we going now?”
“Ya ort to be in the movies, little puss. Head for that speakeasy we spotted a while ago, Chester. Then we’ll hit a honky-tonk. Before the night’s over we’ll have enough money to buy a car and you’ll be shed of us.”
Jody and Margie followed Alvin into a treeless area at Alanreed, Texas. The ruins of a burned-out house sat in the middle of the campground. A half dozen campers were there and looked to have been there for some time. Clothes hung on lines stretched between dusty cars and trucks. Children played barefoot in the dirt while women tended campfires. Several men pulled their heads out from under the hood of a car to watch the newcomers drive in.
“They look like a real down-and-out bunch,” Jody said as he followed Alvin’s lead to the far side of the burned-out house. Nearby, a privy that had survived the fire leaned precariously to one side.
“They’ve left their homes looking for a better life. I hope they find it.” Margie thought that they at least had one another. It was more than she had.
Jody drove the truck close to the Putmans’, then backed up and parked, leaving no more than a car length between the two trucks. Elmer had always made sure that there was a good distance between his camp and the others. Brady stopped close beside Margie on the other side, making it plain to the campers that watched that this caravan was a close unit, probably family.
Mona and Rusty came by as Margie was working the kinks out of her shoulders.
“Eat with us tonight, Margie,” Mona said. “Daddy is getting out the kerosene stove. We’re going to have fried potatoes and onions.”
“All right. I’ll bring a can of corn.”
“I haven’t had fried potatoes and corn since we left home.”
“She’s tired of my company, Margie. She didn’t ask me to eat with her.” Rusty’s hand on Mona’s shoulder moved across the back of her neck to cup the other shoulder and pull her closer to him. She turned on him.
“Bullfoot! Shame on you, Rusty Putman. I did too ask you to eat with us, and you said not until I came to eat with you. You said that, and I said I didn’t want to leave Daddy and Jody alone tonight.”
“She’s tellin’ a windy, Margie.” He laughed happily, his face turned to Mona. It was hard to believe that he was not seeing her.
“You certainly did, you … you clabberhead.”
It was a pleasure, Margie thought, to see how happy they were together.
“Hi, Rusty. Hi, Mona.” Anna Marie and Blackie, glad to be out of the car, came running toward them. “Guess what? Aunt Grace is goin’ to let me draw faces on the eggs before we peel them.”
“You can’t draw a face,”
Rusty teased, and stooped to scratch Blackie’s ears. The dog was glad to see him and had whined to let him know he was there.
“I can too. I’ve got a red crayon. I’m goin’ to get it. Uncle Brady,” Anna Marie called as she ran away.
“See what I mean, Margie? He’s gettin’ to be a regular smart aleck.”
Margie laughed. “But he sings like a bird.”
“More like a buzzard.” Mona giggled and tried to move away. Rusty caught her, reached down and swung her up into his arms.
“Is there a muddy hole around here, Margie?” He swung Mona around, and Blackie, wanting to join in the merriment, raced around them and barked.
“Put me down, you knucklehead!”
“Not a muddy hole in sight, Rusty. You might consider dropping her in the ruins of that burned-out house.”
“Where is it?”
“To your right.”
Rusty took a few steps, stopped and let Mona slide down until her feet touched the ground.
Their laughter reached Margie as they walked away, Blackie frolicking alongside, Rusty’s arm across Mona’s shoulders, hers around his waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Without her stepmother glaring at her, waiting to find something to criticize, Mona was free to act like a young girl in love.
Suddenly Margie felt old. It had been a long time since she was young and carefree and did silly things just for the fun of it.
Since Elmer had gone to a store the day he spent away from Deke’s campground, the cupboard was well stocked when Margie looked in it to find a can of corn. There was even a box of Cream of Wheat and syrup for pancakes. She made a mental note to get milk when next they stopped for ice.
She took the corn, the canvas chair, a plate and eating utensils with her when she went to the Luker camp. The get-together was enjoyable. Even Foley appeared to be more relaxed without Sugar’s cloying, overpowering presence. Mona and Jody were certainly more at ease. Foley cooked the meal of fried potatoes and onions on a small kerosene stove and heated the creamed corn, Margie’s contribution, right in the can.
While she and Mona washed the supper dishes, Foley, Brady and Alvin squatted on their heels with a map spread out in front of them. Jody and Rusty came from the Putman camp with Anna Marie hanging on Rusty’s hand. Blackie, as usual, trailed them.
Later when Margie went back to the truck with her chair, Brady’s head and shoulders were beneath the hood.
“Is something wrong?”
He raised up to look at her. “No. I was checking the oil. The motor is in good condition. It doesn’t use much oil.” He wiped his hands on a rag he pulled from his back pocket and shut the hood. “Alvin thinks that we should leave at dawn and make as much time as we can tomorrow on the flatland. After we get over into New Mexico a ways, it’s up one hill and down another.”
“Have you been there?”
“I’ve been down around Albuquerque.”
She could feel his gaze, hot and questing, on her face and was grateful for the evening shadows that hid the blush that crept up her throat to her cheeks. The silence between them went on and on. She was only half aware of the sound of Anna Marie calling to her.
“Margie! Margie!” Anna Marie ran to her from the Putman camp. “Aunt Grace let me keep an egg. Look.” The egg had two round circles for eyes, a dot for a nose and a curved line for the mouth.
“Who is it?” Margie asked after looking at it closely.
“Uncle Brady. See his ears?” She turned the egg in her small fingers.
“It does look like him.” Margie looked from the egg to Brady’s smiling eyes. “When he loses his hair, you won’t be able to tell them apart.”
Anna Marie giggled and pulled on Margie’s hand so that she would bend over.
“Ask Uncle Brady if I can sleep with you again,” she whispered.
“You ask him,” Margie whispered back.
“I’m ’fraid he won’t let me.”
“You won’t know until you ask him.”
Brady’s eyes darted back and forth between his niece and the woman who had been in his thoughts all day.
“I’m beginning to feel like the skunk at the picnic. What are you two whispering about?”
Anna Marie had put the egg in the pocket of her dress and was holding on to Margie’s hand with both of hers.
“All right. Out with it,” he pressed. “What are you two hatching up?”
As his eyes roamed her face, strange feelings stirred in Margie. Her heart fluttered. She drew the tip of her tongue across dry lips.
“We-ll,” she stammered. “I was just about to invite Anna Marie to sleep in the truck with me again.”
Brady’s eyes were fixed unwavering on her.
She has a wistfulness about her tonight. She’s a woman, yet she’s a girl.
She was looking at him with wide, clear eyes. And in the flickering light of the Putmans’ campfire her face appeared infinitely soft and beautiful. An unexpected twinge of yearning stirred deep inside of him. Brady tore his eyes away and looked down at his niece.
“Do you want to accept Margie’s invitation?”
“Does that mean yes?”
“It means yes if Margie really wants you to stay.”
“She wants me. Don’t you, Margie?”
“Sure I do, puddin’. You can sleep on the box again. I like the company.”
“Goody, goody. I can stretch out my feet.”
“You could stretch your legs out in the car.”
“Huh-uh. I kicked the door.”
“I didn’t realize that. I’ll get the mattress for you.”
“Margie likes me,” Anna Marie said brightly, smiling up at her uncle.
Margie saw his jaw tighten and knew that he was remembering the cruel words that Becky, the child’s mother, had said to her.
“Of course I like you.” Margie hugged the child to her. “Everyone likes you. You’re pretty and sweet and … smart to draw your uncle’s face on the egg.”
“I gave him big ears.”
“By golly, you did.” Margie lifted the child up into the truck. “You’ve got to be washed before you can go to bed. I’ve got a bar of scented soap I’ve been saving. We’ll use it and some powder to make you smell good.”
Margie lit the lantern and set it on the icebox.
“I wish you were my mama.” Anna Marie cuddled the boiled egg in her hand and looked at Margie with big, solemn eyes. “She was pretty, like you, but she didn’t like me.”
“Oh, honey. You must be mistaken.”
“Huh-uh.”
Wanting to change the subject, Margie said quickly, “We should have told your uncle to bring a nightgown.”
“I brought one.” Brady was standing at the end of the truck with the small mattress from his car. “I’ll slide the mattress in. Can you take it from there? Otherwise you girls will have to get out before I can get in.”
Margie had cleared off the things that rode on the box during the day. She moved the mattress over and tilted it onto the box.
“Just fits. Does she have a pillow?”
“I’ll get it.”
Later Brady sat beside the dark truck, smoked a cigarette and listened to Margie talking to his niece.
“When I was a little girl, my grandmother used to read to me. I liked the fairy tales best. Want me to tell you about Cinderella and the prince?”
“I like stories. Daddy told me about the three bears.”
“Once upon a time there was a beautiful girl who lived with her cruel stepmother and stepsisters. They made her work from morning until night …”
Brady found himself listening to the story with rapt attention. It dawned on him for the hundredth time how foolish he had been to attempt to drive across the country with a five-year-old girl. God must have been watching out for the child and arranged for him to meet Margie and the Putmans. It had not even occurred to him to tell her a story. He didn’t know if he even knew one.
“The prince tri
ed the glass slipper on every girl in his kingdom, but it fit none of them. He feared that he would never find the beautiful girl who came to the ball. Then he came to the house where Cinderella lived with her stepmother and stepsisters …”
Silence. Brady tilted his head to listen. Would Margie come out? God, he hoped so. The heavy hand of loneliness gripped him, wrapping its icy fingers around his heart at the thought of the journey’s end and never again seeing the slim, brown-eyed girl with the sweet, soft lips and the sad, shy smile.
Dear God! He was in love with her!
How had it happened? He knew that he liked her. Liked her a lot and enjoyed being with her. He hadn’t intended to fall in love until he was on his feet and could provide for a wife. Hell and damnation! He had learned that love was an intimate, gut-wrenching experience that turned a reasonably intelligent man into a blithering idiot.
Is this how poor tortured Brian felt about Becky? Is this why a sensible man like Foley Luker married a floozy like Sugar?
Inside the truck Anna Marie had gone to sleep. Margie sat on the bunk and debated about what to do. She knew that Brady was out there. If she went out, he would think that she was running after him. If she didn’t, he would think that she was avoiding him because she was still angry. She wanted him to believe that she was indifferent to him, that she was no more interested in him than she was in Jody or Rusty, which meant not going out of her way to avoid him.
She climbed out of the truck.
Chapter 22
BRADY GOT TO HIS FEET when Margie appeared. With a flick of her hand she motioned for him to sit down and went to sit on the fender of the truck.
“Does Anna Marie have a toothbrush?”
“She did when we started out. I looked for it this morning and couldn’t find it.”
“Even though she’ll be losing her baby teeth, she should brush them at least once a day.”
“I know. Brian was a stickler for that and for keeping her hands clean.”
“Another thing. She’s outgrown her shoes. Her little toes are red from being squeezed.”
“Good Lord. I hadn’t noticed that. She hasn’t said anything. She’s barefoot while in the car, but she puts on her shoes when we get out, because of cockleburs, nails and glass in the campgrounds.”
Dorothy Garlock - [Route 66] Page 23