“You gave Grandpa Field some money!” Laurie accused.
“Not much.”
“You the same as bought us!”
“It’s for your own good. Inside of six months, you’ll thank me.” Redwine reached into his inside vest pocket and brought out a rumpled envelope. “This is from Wayburn. He left it for you at the hardware he robbed.”
The seal was broken. “You read it,” Laurie accused.
“Sure I did. I’m your legal guardian. County judge just confirmed that this morning.”
Feeling trapped, desperate, and bewildered about Way, but wildly intent on breaking free, Laurie pulled out the page of folded tablet paper. She had never seen Way’s handwriting but the neat script was a small version of that he used on signs where he didn’t need big block letters.
Kiddos—
I got a snoutful of booze and like I told you, once I start, there’s no stopping. I’m not fit to be around you. I know you don’t like Dub much but he can give you a good home and education. With your music, you can earn more than I can. I’d just be a detriment to you. Don’t think hard of me, Larry-Laurie and Bud. And don’t worry your heads, neither—this old tramp knows all the roads. I love you like my own. That won’t change. Bart Rogers at Cross Plains seems like an honest feller. If Clem or Marilys was to talk to him, I’ll bet he’d give back at least your money that’s paid on the truck and you’re sure welcome to any of mine he offers to refund. Good luck, kiddos. Knowing you has sure been the best thing in my whole life.
So long, it’s been good to know you.…
“What does he say?” demanded Buddy, a quaver in his voice.
“He says he loves us.” She gave Buddy the note.
“I don’t know all the words,” he said after a moment’s scowling. “Does—does it mean he—he’s gone away?”
Unable to speak, Laurie nodded. Buddy let out a wail like one of the rabbits he used to shoot and burrowed his face against her. “Won’t we ever see Way again?”
Holding him, Laurie sort of rocked her brother and said, “Yes. Don’t you worry, Buddy. We’ll see him again.”
She looked up into Redwine’s eyes. They were fiat and sheen-less as dried paint. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll get your things.”
17
Redwine stood where the tumbleweed Christmas-tree had reigned and swept a quick glance around the shanty. “Clem’ll come over tomorrow for the mattresses and heater and kitchen stuff,” he said. “Won’t take long to rent the place.”
Stripped of its flour-sack tablecloth, the packing crate was only a box, not the center of many happy meals, just as this was a shack again, not a home. Laurie had known from the start that this couldn’t be their always place, hadn’t wanted it to be, even, but she felt nearly as sick and robbed as when Daddy sold the rocking chair and old oak table—as when she caught a last glimpse of the brave, battered little cherry tree as they pulled away from the house in Prairieville. Oh, Way! Why did you leave us, too?
Maybe they’d been more trouble than he let on. Maybe he hadn’t really wanted to be stuck with a couple of kids. But—did Marilys know? Had he just gone off and left all three of them? What made him start drinking again?
As if she might find an answer, Laurie ignored Redwine’s impatient order to hurry and went back to the room Way had shared with Buddy. Everything he owned had gone with him in that old cardboard suitcase, except for the nice fedora she’d got him at Christmas. She took it off its nail and held it against her cheek. It smelled like the hair oil Way started wearing after he met Marilys.
How could he leave them, all of them? Laurie couldn’t believe it. “No use taking that hat,” Redwine said.
Laurie held it, careful not to crush it, picked up her guitar, and followed Buddy out to the truck. Grandpa Field, an Oklahoma lawyer, and a Texas judge had handed them over to Redwine. Way had vanished somewhere out on the road. Didn’t he know that even if he was drinking, they loved him and would try to help him stop?
As Redwine shepherded them up the stairs, Edna came out of the kitchen. “Boys, would you like some milk and cookies?”
Laurie’s stomach was tied in a knot and for once even Buddy shook his head no to a treat. “Well, kids, if you need anything, our bedroom’s right under yours,” Edna said, staring at Redwine through her steel-rimmed glasses. “Just pound on the floor and Clem or I’ll be right up.”
That made Laurie feel a little less crushed and deserted, “Thanks, Edna.”
“And I’ll make you buckwheat cakes for breakfast,” Edna promised. “With sliced bananas and a lot of maple syrup.”
“That—that’ll be real nice.”
“Good night, boys. Don’t you worry, everything’s going to work out fine.”
How could it, with Way gone God knew where, boozing again, tramping? Besides, Laurie knew in her marrow it couldn’t be fine to have Redwine for a guardian. Now that he knew she was a girl, she felt as if he had stripped away her clothes, as if he’d seen her naked. She couldn’t say this to Edna, though.
“Thanks, Edna,” she said again, and moved on up the stairs.
Redwine unlocked the door of the apartment and switched on a lamp before he put bundles down on the sofa. “I’ll lock the door so no drunk can come bustin’ in,” he said.
Panic flooded Laurie. “Can’t we lock it from the inside?”
“This is safer.”
“But locked up—with someone else having the key! It—it’s like being in jail.”
“You’ve never been in one or you wouldn’t say that,” Redwine snorted. “You don’t have any sense, Laurie Field, or you’d appreciate what I’m doing for you and your brother.” He checked, spoke in a kinder tone. “I know it’s a jolt to have Wayburn light out on you but it really is for the best. I know he was good to you as he knew how to be but he was just an old tramp—”
“He wasn’t!” Laurie whirled, spitting outrage, trying not to cry. “You hired him yourself!”
“Yes, and what did he do?” Redwine’s words clubbed her. “Went back to the bottle. Even he knew he had no business keeping you kids with him. I’m your guardian now. That’s the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to you. So settle down and we’ll get along just dandy.”
“Like you did with your son?” Laurie burst out.
Redwine’s arm drew back. She cowered instinctively before she straightened and glared at him. He moved to the door. “I’m going out of town but when I get back, I’ll talk to your teacher and the principal about how you’re really a girl,” he said. “Marilys will take you shopping tomorrow for some dresses. Maybe she can figure out something to do with your hair till it grows out.”
“I can’t be a girl here,” Laurie cried. The kids would tease her so unmercifully that maybe even Catharine would avoid her.
“The sooner you start, the better. Go on to bed.”
The door closed. The key turned in the lock. “Laurie!” Buddy whimpered. “What are we going to do?”
Things had happened so fast and Redwine had taken charge so firmly that Laurie hadn’t thought beyond not breaking down in front of him. Now, gripping Buddy by the arms, she didn’t have to think, the words rose out of her without a twinge of doubt.
“We’re going to find Way.”
Buddy’s eyes widened. “How?”
Laurie had no idea but now that she knew what to do, her mind started working. “We’ll watch for signs that look like he made them. We’ll ask after him in hobo jungles along the railroad. We’ll just plain hunt for him till we find him—or he finds us.”
“He’s not looking for us,” Buddy objected, pulling away. “He went off and left us, didn’t he?”
That stabbed, but Laurie stoutly denied her own qualms. “He didn’t want to go, Buddy. He left because he got drunk and thought he shouldn’t be around us if he was liable to do that. He knew Mr. Redwine wanted us to stay with him and that Marilys and Edna and Clem would take care of us. But if Way knew we were out on the road by ourse
lves, you bet he’d come after us.”
“Yeah, maybe he would.”
“You know he would.”
“But how’re we going to hunt for him if Mr. Redwine locks us up?”
“He can’t lock us up all the time. We can take off on the way to school or afterwards.” She sighed. “I wish we could drive that truck over at Cross Trails or at least get some of our money back but no owner’s going to deal with kids. Maybe like Way said, Clem or Marilys can get some kind of refund. It’s too bad he didn’t have enough money to pay the Chevy off and travel in it.”
“That would’ve been taking our money!”
“Not if you figure our share of rent and groceries. Anyhow, Buddy, it just makes me sick that he paid in that much and lost it.”
“Well, he shouldn’t have got drunk!” Buddy rubbed angrily at his eyes. “Why’d he go and do that?”
“I don’t know,” Laurie admitted. “It must have been something awful because you know he never drank all the time we knew him.”
She stared at their bundles. More than they could carry, and she wouldn’t leave her guitar—or Way’s hat, either. She was going to find him and put it on his head. They only had five dollars and a little change. Maybe they should wait till after they’d gotten more money that Friday and Saturday nights or until Clem or Marilys could get some of the truck money back. But every day would carry Way farther, make it harder to pick up his tracks.
“Are we going to run off tomorrow?” Buddy asked. He didn’t sound eager. Laurie remembered the train, the jocker, the railroad police, the awful, filthy camp outside Eden, and shrank from striking out again, especially without Way. Whatever would have happened to them if he hadn’t made them his business? Should they hitch rides or stow aboard trains or what?
She’d have to decide for them both. What if she made the wrong decisions? What if Buddy got killed or hurt because she hauled him away from this nice apartment where Clem and Edna and Marilys would look out for them?
“Buddy.” She wet her lips and gulped. “Maybe you ought to stay here. You could probably live at Harrises and I’d send money for your keep.”
“No!” He dived for her and held on as if she might disappear and began to sob. “Mama died. Daddy went away and then he died. Way’s gone. If—if you go anyplace, Laurie, I’m going, too!”
She kissed his wet cheek and hugged him. “All right, honey. All right, I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die, I won’t leave without you. Let’s say a prayer that Way’s safe and then we’d better get to bed.”
Buddy regarded her skeptically. “Does it do any good to pray?”
“I don’t know.” Laurie’s feelings about God had always been more fear than anything till Mama’s dying. Since then, anger usually smothered the fear except when guilt for the anger roiled her emotions into an unidentifiable mixture. “I don’t know if God can hear, or if he cares if he does. But when I pray, I feel closer to Mama, like she hears, and that makes me feel better.”
Buddy snuffled. “I don’t feel like anybody hears me.”
“Well, let’s pray together.”
“Out loud?”
“Sure. Then I’ll hear you anyway.” She grinned, hoping to make him laugh, but he watched her so solemnly that, stricken, she took his hand and squeezed it as she knelt by their heaped belongings. He came down beside her.
“Dear Lord,” she pleaded, “Take care of Way. Help him not to get drunk. Don’t let him get run over or fall under a train or get beaten up by railroad bulls. Please, help him get work and shave and change his clothes so he’ll keep his self-respect and won’t be a tramp. Let him know we love him, and help us find him. We ask this in Jesus’ name. Amen.” She prayed more to Jesus than to God because he was human once and surely understood better, so it seemed peculiar to make her request in his name, but if he could hear her, she was sure he could figure it out. “Now, Buddy, you say your prayer.”
“Uh—Our Father who art in heaven—”
Laurie poked him in the ribs with her elbow. “Buddy, the Lord’s Prayer is fine but it doesn’t say anything about Way.”
“Mmmhm.” Buddy was silent a long moment. Then he blurted, “I want the same things as Laurie. Amen.”
He jumped up. So did Laurie. “Buddy Field, that’s lazy! It’s—it’s like putting ditto marks instead of spelling out a word. What if—”
A metallic click came from the bedroom door. They spun toward it. “Larry? Buddy?” came a voice, barely audible, from the other side. Barely audible, but it was Marilys!
Laurie ran to open the door and Marilys stepped in from the next room. Bending, she scooped them both into her arms. “Edna told me about—about Way.” Tears glittered in her eyes. “You can bet Dub’s behind that!”
Laurie dug the crumpled note from her pocket. “Way says he got drunk.”
“Men do it every night. It’s not the end of the world.”
“Way says he can’t just take one drink and stop. All the time we knew him, he never had a drop.”
“There’s some reason why he did.” Marilys’s mouth twisted. “Somehow, Dub set up the whole thing. He’s mighty good at setting traps.”
“Way didn’t write to you?”
She shook her head and then, even in the yellowish electric light, she went pale and flinched. Straightening, she turned away. “That’s what Dub did!” she whispered. “That lowlife bas—I’m sorry, kids—Dub told Way about me.”
“About you?” Laurie puzzled.
Marilys colored. “I’ve done some things I’m not proud of. I—I’ve tried to tell Way but he always stopped me—said it didn’t matter.” Her head drooped like a flower on a broken stalk. “I guess it did. And Dub could have made it worse than it was—which was bad enough.”
That sounded like one of the grown-ups’ mysteries about which Laurie wondered but didn’t really want to know.
“I expect Way thinks he’s not good enough for you since he got drunk,” Laurie comforted, tentatively laying her hand on Marilys’s arm. “Anyhow, we’re going to find him.”
“How? Do you have an idea of where he’s gone?”
“No. But we’ll watch for his signs and hunt in the hobo camps. If we don’t find him, he’ll find us.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“Marilys, you can’t!”
“I can if you can.”
“But you’re a lady, a pretty one! You can’t flip freights and hitch rides!”
“You’ve passed for a boy, Larry—I guess it’s Laurie now. Maybe I can.”
Laurie glanced from Marilys’s delicate features to her bosom. “I don’t think so.” A sudden hope filled her. “Say, can you drive a truck?”
“Papa got me a Chrysler sedan for my sixteenth birthday,” Marilys said. “I like to drive, in fact I used to wrestle those old trucks of Dub’s around the dirt roads when he got tired of driving.” Her thoughts jumped to connect with Laurie’s. “Way said in his note that maybe Clem or I could get your money back on that truck at Cross Trails. How much do you still owe?”
“Ninety-one dollars.” That was an awful lot, though looking at it another way, the ninety-nine dollars they’d paid on it was even more.
“I can pay it out and have a little money left for gas,” Marilys said after a moment’s silent calculations. “We ought to be able to play and sing enough to pay our way. But we’ll have to be careful and keep moving, probably keep trading vehicles. Dub’ll have the law and highway patrol watching out for us.”
“We haven’t done anything wrong!”
Marilys shrugged. “You’re runaways and he’d accuse me of kidnapping.”
“Kidnapping!”
The word sent a shiver through Laurie. Three years ago, Colonel Lindbergh’s baby had been kidnapped, held for ransom, and found buried a few months later only five miles away, probably killed the night he was stolen from his bed. Bruno Richard Hauptmann had passed some of the ransom bills in 1934. He swore he was innocent but if he was convicted, he’d
probably die in the electric chair. After the Lindberghs’ agony, kidnappers were hated and feared worse than murderers and Congress passed a law that gave the death penalty to kidnappers who took their victims across a state line.
Laurie caught Marilys’s hands. “That’s too dangerous for you, Marilys!”
“Dub has to catch me first,” Marilys said with a wry chuckle. “If he does, I expect we could do some fancy bargaining. I know things that could get him into big trouble.” Her blue eyes darkened. “We’ll find Way. That’s the main thing. And then if he doesn’t want me around, I’ll just keep going.”
“But—”
Marilys raised her hand. “Don’t worry, honey. However that works out, I’ll be glad something gave me the guts to leave Dub.”
Laurie stood on tiptoe to kiss Marilys and give her a warm hug. “I know—I just plain know—that if we can talk to Way, he’ll see we all belong together no matter what anybody’s done! Are—are we going tonight?”
Brow puckering, Marilys thought a moment, then shook her head. “Dub has to go to Oklahoma City tomorrow on business. He’s buying an oil company if he can do it cheap enough. If he can’t, he’ll go on like he is, staking independent drillers as cheap as he can and claiming a hog’s share of any oil they hit. Dub won’t risk big money, that’s why he’ll never be a millionaire. It’s also why he’s not broke. Anyhow, with luck, he’ll be gone all week.” Marilys grinned. “Clem and Edna just won’t be able to track him down when they call to tell him you’ve disappeared.”
“Won’t he be mad at them?”
“He’ll be mad at everybody, but for their own good, we won’t tell Clem and Edna what we’re doing. I’ll leave them a note so they won’t worry but the less they know, the better they can stand Dub off.”
“I—I don’t have to leave my guitar, do I?” Laurie would almost as soon leave an arm or a leg.
“I’ve got a friend who can pick me up here in the afternoon when Edna takes her nap and Clem’s at the pool hall. We’ll bring all your things and come by school for you just as it’s letting out. With luck, we’ll pay for the truck and be out of Cross Trails before dark.” Marilys’s words quickened as she planned, and her eyes glowed twilight blue. “I’ll bring bedding so we can sleep in the truck. We’ll have to buy a tarp to go over the back. In case Dub finds out about the Chevy, we’d better trade it the first good chance we get, but I hope we’re a long way off by the time he gets back from Oklahoma.”
The Longest Road Page 25