Me and Jake

by Boo Riley

  Jake stretched out on his belly with his back legs behind him, holding the bone with his paws. His eye closed when he gnawed at it. Then it opened when he got a piece to turn loose. He paused, let the bone lay, and stood, head high, smelling the wind.

  “It’s a hundred paces to the house, relax.”

  A door slammed, a pickup door, and dogs barked. That’s all we needed to hear. I was done eating. Jake too. We lit out east to clear the place and then turned north again.

  “This is dumb. I could have talked to the people who live in the trailer. They got a kid, maybe two. Why else would they have a little pool? But maybe they got a big dog, huh Jake? One of those dogs sounded big.”

  We walked through another holler and over a ridge with no end in sight. Morning and afternoon, passed. Shadows grew in length by the minute.

  The smell of wood smoke stopped me in my tracks. Then I got a whiff of something that really took me home: pigs. “Easy, Jake. Don’t go too fast.”

  The little stone house had a couple of rooms at the most with a stone chimney to one side. Smoke hung over the small clearing like morning fog.

  A short man, hunched at the shoulders, wearing jeans and a blue shirt walked out the back door with a red bucket. He whistled a tune I’d never heard. It was a good tune, a happy tune. About halfway to a low shed he stopped and looked our direction. His gaze covered the hundred paces between us and made me look away. The tune ended on a long, low note.

  My heart hit four hard beats before he started walking again. The tune took up where it ended. He turned the bucket over and pigs squealed.

  Could this man feel my stare? No way.

  Watching him amble back into the house brought to mind Dad’s comment about knowing the woods and warning us not to run away.

  “Jake, I don’t know. This feller might know Dad and call him. What do we do now?”

  Jake stared at the house. The end of his nose pulsed as he sniffed the air. He made no effort to move. A couple of stars twinkled overhead. Too late to make a wish on one.

  I know wishing didn’t do any good, but if I’d known how to pray I might have tried that.

  “Jake, night’s coming fast. I don’t know what to do anymore. I thought I could live in the woods forever—just you, me, and Cameron. But Cameron’s gone. Who do I trust besides you and Cameron? I need to call Mr. Jordan.”

  We sat quiet for a spell.

  “Jake, I don’t see a garden. I’m hungry. We got to find something to eat. The cheek-lady said I don’t have no meat on my bones. Soon there won’t be no bones neither.”

  “Boy, don’t you move. And my name ain’t Jake.”

  Might as well been Dad standing behind me. Like to scared me back to yesterday. Don’t move? I had to move. I didn’t have boar hairs like Jake, but goose bumps jumped out all over me, like the cold skin on a plucked chicken. There was no sitting there. The man had sneaked up behind me, holding a big pistol in his right hand, a sweat-stained brown hat pulled low over his eyes. He worked a chaw and spit, but not in my direction.

  “Sir,” I said.

  “No, you just be quiet. Let’s me and you mosey down to the house.”

  “Sir, my dog. I got to get Jake.”

  “I don’t see no dog. You got an imaginary dog you like to talk to? I heard you as I walked up. I got two Black and Tans penned at the house. They’d know if another dog got within half a mile of here. Start walking.”

  Jake must have disappeared while I talked about Cameron, not paying attention. Didn’t even see him leave, and he didn’t warn me someone was coming.

  The man motioned with his chin. “Let’s go.”

  I couldn’t help it. I cried.

  35

  The hand that touched my shoulder belonged to a gun-toting stranger who thought he’d caught a thief or who knows what, but it stopped the tears. The blue eyes set in the weathered face below the dirty hat had a warm, understanding glow to them. The face seemed somewhat familiar, but from where? I was pretty sure we’d never met.

  He squeezed my shoulder for a second, and then he turned loose. “What’s your name, son?”

  “Ty.”

  “Ty?” His eyes held mine, one gray eyebrow raised.

  I didn’t want to tell him, but I did. “Ray, Ty Ray.”

  He switched hands with the pistol and offered the right one. “Imagine that. Call me Ray-Ray.”

  We shook. “Ray-Ray?” I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt. “Did…did your momma stutter or something?”

  He chuckled, low and steady, wiped a hand across the white stubble on his chin, and then laughed out-right. “No, son, she didn’t. But that’s a good one. Never thought of it. I guess it’s something a woman who doted on her son would call him when he was a baby. It stuck.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be, be rude ’bout your name.”

  “That’s OK. You weren’t rude, just honest. Been called worse. Let’s mosey up to the house, you and me.”

  “My dog, Jake, he heard you coming and sneaked off without me. He’s out there somewhere.”

  “So you did have a dog. I thought you were plum crazy when I walked up behind you and heard you talking. I don’t get many visitors, especially arriving from the direction you came from. You can imagine my concern. Call your dog, see if he’ll come.”

  I gave Jake a yell, then another, but nothing stirred.

  Ray cleared his throat and motioned for me to follow. “Son, he’ll come around. The smell of my old dogs might be keeping him away. Come on to the house. I need to finish chores before it gets dark. I don’t have a flashlight and my old eyes don’t see too good anymore at night. Then, we’ll get a bite to eat and talk about life.”

  I wasn’t in the mood to talk about anything, much less life. And whose life? Mine? It would be a short conversation. Food didn’t even sound good.

  Ray’s boots had seen better days, run over on the outsides, heels worn down. A hitch in his get-a-long made him limp, the step with his right leg longer than the one with the left. He whistled the same tune.

  Jake had to be back in the woods watching and wondering. But he didn’t show himself. I scanned the edge of the clearing for signs of him.

  Two Black and Tans, heavier than Jake, opened up as we neared the house. Three young pigs rooted around a wooden trough under the shed, held in by chicken wire strung between posts. A small garden fenced by two strands of barbed wire looked neat and clear of weeds. Two rows of corn had been picked bare. The stalks already pulled and piled to one side.

  Ray opened the door, put the pistol just inside on the counter, and grabbed a tin pail. “You know how to squeeze a teat?”

  “Yes, sir. We got an old cow, but she’s been dry a spell.”

  “Here.” He held the pail out for me. “Squeezing teats isn’t something a feller forgets over time. My old cow’s called Miss May. She’s around the side of the house there, keeping the lawn trimmed, I imagine. See if she’ll give you a bucket full. She’s got manners and don’t kick, so help yourself.”

  “Miss May? That’s a doozie name for a cow.”

  “Well, it’s not complicated. She may or may not let you milk her. Or that used to be the case, therefore the name. She’s mellowed in her old age, like me. Get the milk and we’ll have some vittles.”

  To me, a cow is a cow. Miss May, or may not, was the brown milking type with one stubby horn curled down over her right eye. Her udder hung full and swung like the pendulum in an old clock as she walked. She looked back with a big brown eye and stopped as I approached.

  Most times you’d put a cow in the barn and tie her head to milk her, but Ray didn’t mention what to do since he didn’t have a barn. I knelt next to her, positioned the pail, and went to squeezing.

  Milking gave me time to think. Run or stay? Dark woods lay only seconds away. Tell Mr. Ray about Cameron or keep quiet? Dad said he knew everyone for miles. Threatened to find us and take care of us. The meaning in that threat was not lost on me and Camer
on.

  For now, I’d be keeping my mouth shut. If Mr. Ray had a bunch of questions, he might not get all the truth for answers.

  A faint light glowed behind dingy curtains at the back of the house. A shadow crossed the window. I gave the door a rapid tap with a knuckle.

  “Come in. No need to knock.”

  Warmth and the aroma of I-couldn’t-tell-what hit me when the door opened.

  “Place the milk next to the sink, son.” He never looked my direction.

  The same kind of tan stone that covered the outside of the house was used for the floor on the inside. Against the wall to the left sat a white gas stove and fridge, like Momma Ray’s. Under the window, to the right, was a counter with oak cabinets and a sink. It, too, was white.

  No sign of the pistol.

  Ray stirred fixings in a cast iron pan on a potbelly stove across the room. Next to it stood a small, round oak table with two matching chairs.

  He took a small log from a wooden box next to the stove, tossed it in and closed the door. “Ty, I live simple. You don’t mind simple, do you?”

  Simple? I knew simple. “No, sir, not at all.”

  “Good, I don’t have running water. Got electricity, but don’t use it except for the fridge only because I like my milk…and I hate warm milk. I pump my own water. When it’s bath time, my arms get tired.” A grin spread across his face, slow like. He waited a second for me to get it and I did, but the humor wasn’t in me at the moment. “That’s an oil lamp behind you, this one above me too, and as you can see, I cook on a wood-burning stove. Lamp oil is cheap and wood only costs a little sweat and time. I still got lots of sweat. Not much time, but lots of sweat.

  “I got my plate, never put it up. Only wash it. Grab you one from the cabinet by the window. And a fork from the drawer below it. You won’t need a knife. We’re going to have a bite of stew so tender the toothless could eat with us. You like venison and taters?”

  At the mention of it my belly did a jig, and my mouth watered like it did at the mention of Burger Monster. I nodded.

  Ray tapped the wooden spoon against the side of the pan, dipped a bite, and sampled it with a noisy slurp. “Ooh, it’s hot enough. Perfect. Bring your plate over and help yourself, there’s plenty. I’ll get us a cup of milk. You like it cold or fresh from the cow? As I mentioned, I like it cold.”

  “Cold’s fine, thanks.”

  Ray wasn’t much for cutting the carrots and taters into small pieces, but the stew had plenty of both and a good helping of meat, all mixed in a thick broth. I put a dip on my plate and put the ladle back in the pot.

  “Ty, I don’t eat much. Put yourself another helping or two on there. You look like you could eat a side of beef in one sittin’. Though it’s not far, it’ll save you a trip to the stove.”

  I sampled and chewed the first bite, minding my manners. It hit bottom and my manners left me. The spoon wasn’t big enough.

  When my cup ran dry, he refilled it and brought the stewpot to the table. “Son, I think you got a hole in one leg to store food in, like a camel does on his back.”

  “Yes, sir, I was pretty hungry.”

  “There’s only a tad left.” He ladled it onto my plate. “This enough or do I need to make another batch? You ate everything but the pot.”

  “I didn’t mean to eat so much.”

  “Hey, a man’s got to eat. Don’t you worry about it. Lots of deer in the woods and taters in the ground.”

  He pushed back his chair, took a toothpick from a coffee cup on the table, and crossed one leg over the other. “Tell you what. I have a good-sized bone with plenty of meat still on it I’ve been saving for my dogs. I’ll put it outside the door. If your Jake comes looking for something to eat, it’ll be there for him.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  Our eyes met. Again, his held mine in easy silence.

  Ray worked the toothpick, and then he stopped and uncrossed his legs like he’d made up his mind about something. “You look like you got a case of hog fever.”

  “Hog fever? Never heard of something like that.”

  “Yep, after a hog eats, he’ll lay down beside the trough and take a nap every time.”

  Just to prove his point, my eyelids got too heavy to hold up, and I yawned.

  “Your room is down the hall on the left. It’s dark as the inside of a cow in there right now. If you need a light, I’ll get you a lamp you can carry to bed with you.”

  “No, sir, Mr. Ray-Ray, I’ll be fine. I’m not scared of the dark.”

  “I have to ask you a question before you retire for the night. What brought you so deep into the woods? There isn’t a house three miles from here as the crow flies, near ten miles by road. If a man was hunting coons, he’d have him a shotgun, maybe a partner to share the hunt with.”

  “My dog led me here. I been following him since last night.”

  “Ty, I’m a man who believes in minding his own business. I expect others to mind theirs, but I feel you’re in need of help. You and your dog didn’t strike out for parts unknown without a good reason.”

  My emotions threatened to surface again. Talking about my problems didn’t happen on a good day, and then not with a stranger. This man could be one of Dad’s friends. Beating around the bush or lying wasn’t neighborly, and Ray had been more than. But I couldn’t take the chance, not yet.

  Ray’s eyes never left my face, as if he could see my thoughts.

  The kitchen counters didn’t have a thing on them. No Little Piggy canisters arranged smallest to biggest, no jars of pasta or rice. The walls didn’t have calendars, pictures or paintings, though a few square spots of off-colored white paint hinted that wall hangings had once occupied those spaces.

  I needed to call someone, but who?

  “Yes, sir,” Ray said. “I like the simple life. Don’t even have a telephone. I do have an old pickup that runs at times. Most times it don’t.”

  Now how did he know what I looked for? “What if something happens? How do you call for help without a phone?”

  “Son, I don’t have anyone to call, except a brother. He checks on me from time to time.”

  This time I looked away. He’d see my heartache if I didn’t.

  “Son, you’re not much of a talker. You don’t know me, and you’re wary. Caution will serve you well in the future. But I’m on your side. Tomorrow morning, after chores and breakfast, we’ll see if we can get my old pickup to running on more than two cylinders. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, long as it ain’t down to China. That sound all right?”

  His eyes sparkled in the lamplight.

  At that moment, I didn’t care to go anywhere or do anything. My belly had all it could hold, and my eyelids grew heavier by the second.

  Ray’s dogs howled an eerie duet that announced an unwelcome guest.

  “Jake! That has to be Jake.” I bolted for the door.

  36

  My mind stirred, lost in unfamiliar quiet. No snore from Jake or steady breathing from Cameron. No pigs squealing. Sunshine lit my eyelids, but our old rooster had yet to open his big mouth. Not like Dad to leave us in bed after sunup either.

  I opened my eyes and sat straight up in bed, a peach-colored bed in a peach-colored room. The ceiling and all four walls down to white baseboards were all peach. A white chest of drawers with thin gold patterns painted around the edges sat against the wall at the foot of the bed, a matching night stand, with a lamp—strawberries painted all over its base. On one corner of the dresser stood three ballerinas poised to dance in a circle around the shaft of a peach umbrella on the top of a peach music box.

  A story mom read me and Cameron one day, long ago, came to mind. It had a Mad Hatter and teacups and all kinds of scary, talking animals. Alice would have a room like this one.

  Then, I remembered being dead tired, going to bed in the dark, Cameron, Jake and the bay of Ray’s hounds. I slipped from under the covers, jerked my britches on, and headed for the kitchen.

 
Ray looked up from a pan on the potbelly, spatula in hand. “Morning.” My face must have told of my intent. “Ty, I’m sorry. There’s no sign of Jake.”

  I walked to the door and put a hand on the knob.

  “The bone we put out is still there. He hasn’t been around, not that I’ve noticed.”

  It’s not as though I didn’t believe him, but I had to see for myself. He offered no further comment when I opened the door and stepped outside.

  Yelling for Jake got a howl from Ray’s dogs in return. Those two had a good set of lungs. Probably hear them tree a coon across two hollers and a ridgeline.

  There was no sign of my friend.

  Ray had traded the spatula for a fork and worked over the same pan. The door clicked shut behind me.

  Jake had to come back, didn’t he?

  “Guess I overslept. What time is it?”

  “It’s morning time, after sunup and chores, but before lunch.” He gave me a quick grin. “I own a watch, but haven’t touched it or looked at it in, I don’t know, eight years maybe.”

  “Eight years is a long time.”

  “And another story. Don’t worry about Jake. God made him so he could live on his own without help from man. He’ll be fine. You needed the sleep, so I let you. Done chores too. You like sweet-milk pancakes and bacon?”

  “I like pancakes and bacon a lot. I don’t know about sweet pancakes.”

  “A sweet-milk is just another pancake, thinner than most, got meat to it though and don’t turn to mush after you doctor it like the box stuff does. Got the recipe from an old German friend near fifty years ago. Still use it. I got butter, strawberry preserves, and honey to do the doctoring with. Get your shirt and shoes on and we’ll partake.”

  I didn’t have a brain, standing in another man’s house half-dressed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” I glanced down at my bare feet and crossed my arms over my chest. “Worried about things I guess.”

  Back in the room, I pulled up the peach bedspread, straightened the bed and finished dressing. To put my shoes on and tie them, I sat on the edge of a small armchair with a number of stuffed animals. A fuzzy white dog with long ears and only one button eye looked at me over the shoulder of a black teddy bear.