by Verna Clay
Both women stared in confusion at the speaker and then Joy questioned, "Crusty, is that you?"
The man laughed. "It is I."
"But what happened to your filthy…er…other clothes?"
He lifted his knapsack. "Packed away for future use. I decided to dress for the occasion."
An awful odor wafted from the bag and Cookie plugged her nose. "Ugh. I think you should trash those rags. If not, I don't think I can eat with you."
Crusty moved his gaze to Joy and when she lifted her index finger below her nose, he bowed in a gentlemanly fashion, and responded, "As you wish. I shall return shortly."
Joy and Cookie watched him walk to a trash can, open his worn knapsack, and dump the clothing. Joy murmured to Cookie, "I didn't even recognize him with his face washed and hair combed. He's actually kind of nice looking for an old man. How old do you think he is?"
Cookie tilted her head, considered the question, and then called across the room, "Hey, Crusty, how old are ya?"
He finished reclosing his bag and walked back. "Older than the hills." He seemed to reconsider his response. "I don't exactly know. I've been on my own since I was about six is my guess. My earliest recollection is being beat up by a cantankerous old man. I don't recall my mother. After the old fart finished clubbing me, I took off. So, to answer your question, I'd say I'm in the neighborhood of sixty, give or take a few years. Probably more like give. Why?"
Cookie said, "I'm not the one who wants to know, Joy is."
Crusty looked at Joy and she stuttered, "It-it just seems that if we're all dining together we should know about each other. I'm twenty-four."
"Well, looks like I'm the baby at seventeen," Cookie smirked. "Is there anything else we need to clear the air with? My stomach's done twisted itself backwards, it's so hungry."
Crusty said, "Joy, if you've exhausted your questions, may I escort you ladies to dinner?" He held out his elbows and Cookie latched on to one, pulling him in the direction of the arrow pointing toward the diner.
Joy hastened her step and placed her palm against his other elbow. At the entrance to the diner, a skinny woman of enormous height carrying two plates on each forearm and a cup in each hand, called loudly, "Just find a seat. I'll be right with you."
Crusty motioned with his head. "How about over there, lovely ladies? It will allow us to view the comings and goings in the depot. I have often traveled this way…" he lowered his voice and confided, "although rarely as a paying customer." He raised his voice again, "And the Washington, Idaho, and Montana countryside you shall soon encounter is magnificent." He pulled out chairs for the ladies.
When the tall waitress moved to their table with pencil and pad in hand, Crusty said without looking at the menu, "We'll have a family meal of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, cornbread, mixed vegetables, and peach cobbler."
Joy gulped and mentally calculated the money in her reticule and decided she might have to covertly reach under her skirt and extract more bills from her secret pouch. Perhaps inviting Crusty had not been such a good idea.
In spite of her anxiety over the cost of the meal, Joy soon found herself laughing at Crusty's travel tales. And when he spoke of Montana, she asked with enthusiasm if he'd ever been to the northern part of the state.
"Oh, my dear, Joy. I have often passed that way. The country is remote, beautiful, and sometimes hostile."
Joy's breath caught. "How is it hostile?"
"Its very remoteness makes it a place one would not want to become lost in. Wild animals abound." He winked. "And perhaps, even in this modern age, a renegade Indian. It's Blackfoot territory, you know." He lifted a fork of mashed potatoes to his mouth.
Joy wasn't sure if he was jesting about the Indian or not.
Cookie said, "Crusty, I got a question fer ya? How come you look like a hobo, but talk like a fine gentleman?"
Crusty lifted his napkin and blotted his mouth. "That's a fair enough inquiry." After another coughing spell, he apologized, and continued, "Although I lived my young life on the streets, I aspired to become an educated man, so I watched and learned from gentlemen of wealthy households who hired me as their go-to boy." As if confirming what he'd learned, he used his fork and knife to cut into a piece of fried chicken.
Cookie picked up a drumstick with her fingers, bit into it and said with her mouth full, "So why didn't ya become a butler or somethin' like that in one of them fine households?"
Crusty swallowed before answering. "The call to adventure was too great."
His answer seemed to satisfy Cookie, but for Joy it fired her curiosity. She had a feeling Crusty was only skimming the surface with that revelation.
The harried waitress brought their ticket and Joy inwardly cringed. Halfway through their meal, Crusty had ordered more fried chicken and potatoes. The waitress, whose nametag identified her as Rosetta, reached to place the slip on the table, but Crusty retrieved it from her grasp. He said, "Thank you, my darling Rosetta. You have been most proficient and you shall be generously rewarded."
Joy blinked and looked at Cookie, who appeared equally surprised. Crusty glanced at the tab, fished into his pocket for a wad of bills, pulled off a few, and handed them to Rosetta. The waitress grinned, which made her face pretty. "Ya'll are welcome in my diner anytime." She winked at Crusty. "And if'n you're still here tomorrow, I get off at noon."
Crusty returned her grin and then looked sad. "Alas, my dearest, our train leaves in an hour for the wilds of Montana. But if I should find myself once again at this lovely depot, I shall most definitely treat you to dinner at a fine establishment." He stood and motioned, "Shall we depart, ladies?"
Chapter Twenty-Six: If Wishes were Horses…
Once again Joy found herself sitting between Cookie and Crusty at the back of a standard-class rail car. And once again the accommodations were terrible. Thinking about the tidy sum she had tucked away in her bank account was tempting. She could find a bank at their next layover and wire for funds.
No! I have to prove to myself and everyone else that I can travel on limited funds. I don't need a man or family or anyone to coddle me. She glanced at Cookie. If a seventeen year old girl can survive, so can I.
During the train's trek toward Pascoe, Joy had plenty of time to get to know her new friends. Cookie admitted that she wanted to find a town to settle down in. She said she had dreamed of becoming a milliner for years. Then she reached into her scuffed and dented valise and pulled out a tablet. Shyly, she showed Joy sketches of hats she'd envisioned. Immediately, Joy noted the girl's talent and praised her generously. Cookie blushed and excitedly divulged ideas for a new concept in ladies' hats that combined the old with the new, and when she turned a page in her sketchbook, Joy exclaimed, "Oh, those are beautiful! I'd wear them! In fact, I'll be your first customer."
Cookie grinned widely. "You're a sweet girl, Joyrider. I don't got no notion that I'll ever have my own shop, but it's nice to dream and hear that somebody else likes my li'l beauties."
Joy's heart saddened at Cookies obvious resignation and purposed in her heart to try and make the girl's dream come true. After all, what was the use of having money if it just kept the bank prosperous? Maybe she should stop being so frugal.
As for Crusty, when Cookie grew silent, he became talkative, describing remote parts of the United States. Joy said, "Tell me about Montana?"
"Ah, Montana, it's one of my favorite places. Is Glacier National Park the area you're interested in?"
"Yes."
"I know the area well. President Taft signed the bill making it a park in 1910, and I just happened to be there during the dedication that same year. Of course, my presence was not as an invited guest since I had just arrived on a boxcar traveling east. If I may be presumptuous, what is your reason for going there?"
Joy inwardly smiled at Crusty's command of the English language. He was as well spoken as any college educated man. She responded, "I've listened to my father describe the beauty of Montana since I was a ch
ild. He was born and grew up there. As a young man he traveled to what is now the park and painted," she sighed, "and I've always had a desire to follow in his footsteps."
Crusty folded his hands in his lap and she noticed they were shaking. Insight told her that he was having withdrawals from alcohol. In an act of compassion, she said, "If you need to take a nip, its okay. I know abstinence can be difficult." She hoped she didn't sound judgmental or condemning. Visions of Aunt Zena popped into her head and she shuddered. For the time being, she had been so caught up in conversations with her new friends that the reason for her flight from Oregon had been pushed to the recesses of her mind.
Meeting Crusty's gaze, she thought she saw his eyes mist, but he quickly glanced away and reached for his knapsack under the seat in front of him. With trembling hands he pulled out a flask and unscrewed the cap. He closed his eyes and downed a gulp. When he opened them again, he released a long breath. "Thank you, sweet Joy. If the truth be known, I wish I'd never tasted the devil's brew. I wish…" He smiled sadly, and quoted, "If wishes were horses, beggars would ride."
Little else was spoken until the train arrived in Pascoe. Since there was a five hour layover, Joy decided to take advantage of the time to buy new clothing. She and Cookie separated from Crusty, saying they would return soon, and went in search of the general store.
The store wasn't far from the depot and they happily entered. It wasn't until they were inside that Joy realized her disheveled appearance after long hours of travel, and Cookie's evident poverty, was drawing the attention of patrons and workers. A man arranging a display of marked-down boots snickered when they walked past. A woman wearing an apron and dusting rows of canned goods, said, "We don't give free stuff away."
Cookie frowned and said to Joy, "I didn't hear me ask for free stuff, or you neither. Did you hear us ask for free stuff?"
Joy stifled a smile. "No. I didn't hear anything either." She couldn't resist adding, "Maybe I don't want to spend my money in a store where the clerk needs a hearing instrument."
The woman stiffened. "What're you lookin' for?"
"I'm looking for women's trousers."
The man with the boots choked and coughed.
The saleswoman said, "We only got a handful 'cause ladies around here don't cotton to what flappers in the big cities wear."
Undaunted, Joy asked, "And where might I find the handful of trousers?"
The haughty woman jerked her head toward the rear of the store. "Back there."
Joy grabbed Cookie's hand and pulled her down the aisle to the back wall.
Cookie imitated the salesclerk, "Ladies 'round here don't cotton to what flappers in the big cities wear." She snarled, "I'd like to flap her flappy mouth."
Joy snickered and picked up a pair of trousers. They were five sizes too big. The selection was limited and all were overly large. "Okay, on to plan B," she said softly.
Cookie sent her a questioning look and followed her to another section of the store—the men's section. There was a vast selection of trousers in every size. Joy had no trouble finding a pair that would fit. To Cookie she said, "Pick out a couple. If we're going to be traipsing across the wilderness of Montana, we need to be dressed appropriately. We'll also need some flannel shirts. Grab a couple of those, too." When Cookie hesitated, Joy said with exasperation, "If you're going to be my employee, I'll not be the only one dressed in men's clothing."
That made Cookie grin. "Okay, boss. Whatever you say."
They brought their purchases to the front counter and the same saleswoman shook her head in disbelief. She grumbled as she rang up the sale and Joy had to bite her tongue to keep from releasing another cutting remark. When had she become so rude? Cookie had no such compunction to be polite and said, "If you don't cotton to what flappers wear, why is yer hat just like the one I saw in the latest issue of Flappers Monthly?"
At Cookie's question, the woman's eyes became tiny slits and the man in the boot section snorted.
Joy and Cookie laughed all the way back to the depot. When they arrived, Crusty was perched on an outside bench looking forlorn.
Joy called, "We're back, Crusty."
He immediately brightened and glanced at their packages. "Looks like you tried to buy the town out."
Cookie laughed, "Wait until you see the latest in flapper fashion!"
Joy and Cookie promised to return shortly as they went in search of the ladies water closet.
Soon they were walking back toward Crusty and although he watched their approach, it wasn't until they were upon him that he recognized them. He jumped to his feet and exclaimed, "Do my eyes deceive me? Are my lovely ladies dressed as boys?"
Cookie frowned and admonished, "You mark my words, some day women will dress for comfort and not appearance." She turned in a graceful circle and Joy laughed.
Joy said, "Actually, this is the only clothing that makes sense because of our destination. Traipsing across wild terrain in a dress would be foolish."
Crusty said, "You must describe the exact destination you are so determined to find. Perhaps it remains in the recesses of my memory."
Cookie's eyes widened. "Crusty, I'll say it again, for a hobo, you got the strangest way with words."
Joy saw something flicker in Crusty's eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Hellish Coffee
The train slowed for its eminent arrival and layover in Spokane, Washington. Since fleeing Oregon City, Joy had been traveling for three days and she was tired, cranky, and ready for a bath. She didn't think she had ever gone so long without a tub bath. Cookie and Crusty didn't seem bothered by sponge baths at layovers.
She was now ready to splurge on a hotel, but the first one they entered was full, or at least that's what the desk clerk claimed. Joy was more inclined to think that the short, skinny, bespectacled and balding man, who eyed them over the top of his glasses, wasn't impressed by two women dressed as boys traveling with an obvious hobo.
Even when she said she had money to pay for their rooms, he simply turned his head to help another patron. That kicked up her ire and she uncharacteristically lashed out, "My father and mother could purchase this entire town if they wanted and run you out!"
The rude little man had simply eyed her again over the top of his glasses. "Really? They could purchase the entire state and it wouldn't change the fact that I don't have rooms for you."
In addition to being tired and hungry, Joy was now angry. Discounting Walker's aunt, she had never been treated so offensively. Cookie grabbed her arm and pulled her into the street. Crusty followed with a bemused expression. Joy was still fuming. "I can't believe how people are treating us."
Cookie said, "Believe it. I been puttin' up with it most o' my life."
The next hotel also had no vacancies.
Joy's ire suddenly deflated into exhaustion. "What now? Do we sleep in the gutter?"
She saw a look pass between Cookie and Crusty, and Crusty said, "Follow me."
An hour later, Joy found herself sitting around a fire in a hobo camp and sipping soup dipped into a tin can. A dozen or so men and two women crouched around the fire and told tales of their travels. It seemed that Crusty knew most of the men and one of the women. Before they'd entered the camp, however, he'd said to Joy, "My dear, from this moment on, you must consider yourself poorer than a church mouse. You have no money, no family, and no home." He'd gotten close and stared into her eyes. "Because if you have those things, you will be accosted and robbed of the money that is strapped to your leg. Do you understand?"
Joy had glanced at Cookie who was nodding rapidly in agreement, and stuttered, "I-I understand."
When the hobos started passing around flasks of whiskey and jugs of moonshine, their stories became outrageous. Joy was relieved when Crusty only sipped once and said, "As much as I enjoy rehashing memories, I fear my lovely companions and I must catch some shuteye. We have a boxcar to hop tomorrow and we don't want to end up under the wheels, rather than atop them. Goodnight, my
long-time friends." His words were accepted without question.
Crusty led them a short distance from camp and opened his knapsack. He pulled out a threadbare blanket and handed it to Joy, but Cookie said, "That's okay, Crusty, I got a blanket big enough for me and Joy.
As soon as Joy's head hit a tuft of grass, she was asleep.
The next morning, a shaft of light threading through a heavy curtain of leaves awakened her. She pulled her blanket closer and rolled onto her side. The bed of grass actually felt comfortable and she started to drift back to sleep.
"Oh, no, you don't."
Joy opened one eye to see Cookie squatting beside her.
"We got a train to catch," said the persistent girl, and poked Joy in the ribs. She hit a ticklish spot and Joy giggled.
The slight breeze was brisk and cold and Joy pulled the blanket to her chin as she reluctantly sat up and scooted backwards against a tree trunk. "Aren't you cold?" she asked.
Cookie shrugged. "I was, but not now. That's why you gotta get up and move around. There's a pot o' coffee on the fire. It's watered down and tastes like hell, but it'll warm you."
Joy asked, "So, you live like this all the time?"
Again Cookie shrugged. "Not all the time. Sometimes I find a job payin' enough so's I can rent a shack or someone's back room."
Joy processed her response and compared it to her own comfortable upbringing. Then she remembered Crusty's words from the previous night. "Crusty didn't mean it when he said we'd hop a boxcar, did he?"
Cookie leaned close and said low, "'Course not. He wants everyone to think we're transients. If they guessed you had money, they'd strip and rob you faster'n a chicken escapin' the hatchet."
Joy gulped and Cookie laughed.
Cookie said, "Come on, Joyrider. Lessen' you forgot, we got a destination waitin' fer us."
After a trip behind a tree to relieve herself, Joy was again sitting around a campfire sipping horrible coffee from a can held in one hand, and the remains of soup from a can held in the other. Since she was ravenous, the soup actually tasted okay. A sudden vision of Aunt Zena's reaction to her being dressed as a man and in the company of hobos caused Joy to choke on her coffee. She coughed so hard that the hobo next to her patted her on the back. The old man with sly eyes said, "You sure got nice clothes fer bein' on the road."