The Boxcar Blues

by Jeff Egerton

  Catwalk looked apprehensive, but said, "I guess that's O.K. Wouldn't hurt to get out of this area as soon as we can."

  Curly had other ideas, “It wouldn’t hurt to find something to eat. I’m about ready to chew on this field corn.”

  “Are you crazy? We can’t go begging for food with the police looking for us.”

  “Well, sooner or later, we gotta eat or all they’ll find is our carcasses.”

  Sheriff Tyler drove to Chet Parker's place where they found the old man tending a vegetable garden. He walked over to the patrol car while wiping his brow. "Mornin' Wendell. It looks like you got yourself a new police car."

  "Sure did. Picked it up at Recker's dealership two days ago. He claims she'll do over sixty, but I hain't tried it out yet 'cause I gotta break it in first."

  Deputy Jones couldn’t care less about the patrol car. Itching for action, he leaned over toward the driver's window, "Chet, we stopped by to warn you about a couple of mean hombres that might be in Morton's field. They're young guys, but they’re meaner'n hell. They killed and raped a couple hoboes over toward Bailey’s Junction. One of the guys lived long enough to identify his killers—a nigger boy about six two with a burn mark on his cheek and a white kid about five ten with curly brown hair. Keep a gun handy and if you see 'em, shoot 'em on sight."

  Sheriff Tyler tried to temper Jones’ lust for violence, "Damn it, Alton, we ain't shooting anyone. Chet, we wanna pick these guys up, but we gotta make sure we got the right guys. If you see 'em, let us know. We're going over to the Puckett lady's place to warn her now."

  The farmer said, "I’m going over there, got to take her a couple of milk cans. I can tell her about these guys."

  "Thanks Chet. Tell her they’re dangerous and she should keep her doors locked."

  While the sheriff drove back into town he thought about his deputy's attitude and hunger for a confrontation. Everyone knew that Alton Jones was a member of the local Ku Klux Klan, but his Klan activities and personal prejudices had never been an issue in his job. The Sheriff saw the Klan as a bunch of local boys who just wanted to get drunk and raise a little hell. Now, he thought, if his deputy came across the two men, he was liable to shoot first and ask questions later. Then there would be some explaining and a lot of paperwork to do.

  The two lawmen walked into Clark's Mercantile and greeted four men sitting around a card table on top of a cracker barrel. The Sheriff asked for a cold soda. The proprietor nodded and asked Jones if he wanted anything. The deputy said, "Nothing' for me, Ray. We're goin' after a couple a' mean hombres that we saw duck into Morton's corn field."

  That comment brought up several questions and the sheriff addressed them, "We're not sure who we saw. Alton saw somebody run into the field and now he's jumping to all sorts of conclusions that it was the same two killers as we heard about in a telegraph message."

  Jones said, "I'm betting it's the same two, Sheriff."

  The Sheriff shot a scowl at his overzealous partner, then said, "We got a message about two young guys who assaulted a couple of hoboes and threw them off a train. One of the bums described his attackers. He said they're armed with knives and very dangerous."

  Again the deputy spoke up, "They're the queer type too because they fucked both the hoboes before they killed ‘em."

  "Alton, we don't know who did the rapes. All it said was that these guys were raped before they was killed, but we don't know who did it."

  "C'mon, Wendell, you know damn well, ain't no white guy gonna rape another white guy. It had to be the black boy. The big buck couldn't wait to find his self some pussy."

  The Sheriff, clearly tired of his deputy's ranting, shouted, "Alton, shut up for a minute so I can talk to these men. I need volunteers for a posse, and I'll need one of you to drive his car. The county will pay for your gas and ammunition."

  All four men volunteered. Going after hardened criminals beat the boredom of playing cards for match sticks. They left to get their guns.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  After walking for nearly an hour, the boys saw a farm house in the distance. They ducked into the field and approached the house from the cover of the corn. Their hunger prompted talk about begging for a meal even though it would expose them.

  "Catwalk, I gotta get something to eat and most farm houses have plenty of food. Hell, they probably even got a vegetable garden."

  "I know that, Curly, but if you go to that house, they can identify us. If anyone comes looking for us, we're gonna get arrested."

  Curly considered this, but hunger was over riding his apprehension. He said, "Here’s what we’ll do. I've got a better chance of getting a handout than you do. Stay hidden and I'll try the house. If I get something to eat, I'll go down the road and you meet me when we're out of sight of the house."

  "O.K. If anyone comes looking for us while you’re gone, I'm gonna hightail it for the tracks and catch out on an eastbound."

  Curly said, "Don't worry; I'll get us some grub."

  Curly ran across the road and approached the house, while looking the place over. He saw a two story house in need of paint and some old plows and manure spreaders sitting in the remains of a shelter. Beside it another shed had collapsed until it was nothing more than a pile of weathered lumber. In spite of the signs of despair, someone had put some work into the place. They had a large vegetable garden, encircled by chicken wire and a new chicken coop, which sounded as if it housed a couple dozen hens. The barn had been repaired and beside it a few head of Guernsey dairy cows lay in a corral. Nearing the door he felt his chances were pretty good, but that's what he'd thought at the house back in Dakota Springs.

  Curly took off his hat and gently knocked on the screen door. He heard nothing and knocked a little harder. To his surprise, he heard the metallic ‘klatch’ of a pistol being cocked behind him and a female voice said, "Hold it right there."

  Curly froze. He never thought he'd never be apprehended so quickly, but someone had gotten the drop on him and he could do little about it. Running away crossed his mind, but the pistol said otherwise. The voice said, "Turn around."

  He did and found himself staring at a tall red-headed woman holding a Colt Forty-Five that looked like a cannon.

  Maxine Puckett wore bib overalls and a gingham shirt. Her long red hair was wrapped up, on top of her head; sparkling green eyes sized up Curly, "Christ, you're just a kid," she said as she lowered the pistol. "I thought you were one of the desperadoes they warned me about."

  Curly said, "Um, how do, Ma'am. I'm just looking for a little work so's I can get something to eat. I'd be glad to clean out that barn, or milk your cows."

  "What's your name, boy?"

  "Abraham, Ma-am. Abraham Levitz, but most people call me Curly."

  "How long since you ate?”

  "Ah, it's been two days, since we ate—I mean, I ate, Ma'am."

  "Well Curly, I just cleaned and cut up a couple pullets. You think you could stand some fried chicken and biscuits with gravy?"

  Curly's mouth started watering at the thought of such a sumptuous meal. He stammered, "Yes Ma'am, I sure could, and I'll be glad to work to earn my meal."

  "You say you can milk cows?"

  "Sure can, yes Ma'am."

  "O.K., Curly, my name's Maxine. The milking stool and bucket are just inside the barn door. Give those cows some attention and you'll have fresh milk with your dinner."

  "Sure thing, ma'am."

  While milking, Curly thought of how he could take some food to Catwalk. He didn't want to blow the deal by telling the lady he'd rather take the food with him instead of eating here. He was on the last cow when he decided he'd eat here, and then tell her he'd do some extra work if he could take something with him.

  When he carried the milk to the house, however, he found his worries were unfounded. Maxine was sitting on the back stoop smoking a cigarette. She asked him, "You want a smoke?"

  Curly answered, "That sounds good. Ready-mades are hard to come by on the road." />
  Maxine handed him a tin of Chesterfields and asked, "Where’s your friend?"

  Curly coughed. "Beg your pardon, ma'am?"

  "Your friend, the one traveling with you, where is he?"

  Curly hesitated, but then decided to come clean. "He's waiting over in the corn field."

  "Not many people travel alone these days. Go get him. I've got enough for two."

  "I appreciate this, Maxine. I'll be right back."

  Curly ran across the road and hollered for Catwalk. He'd yelled three times when he heard, "I hear ya', Curly. Quit makin' so much noise."

  Curly tugged at his friend's arm and said, "C'mon, the lady that lives here is real nice and she's fixin' a fried chicken dinner with biscuits for us right now."

  Catwalk shot Curly a troubled look and asked him, "Are you sure we should eat here?"

  "Whad'ya mean? Of course we should eat here. She's fixin' fried chicken with biscuits an' gravy. We ain't gonna get a better offer than that in a year."

  "Well, O.K." Catwalk still sounded apprehensive.

  "What are you worried about?"

  "It could be a trap. As soon as we sit down to eat, the sheriff shows up and arrests us."

  Curly had been so focused on the sumptuous meal that he hadn't thought about this possibility. He told Catwalk, "Nah, this ain't no trap. This lady ain't like that."

  "How’re you so sure?"

  "Well, shit. I ain't sure, but I'm to the point where I'd rather be arrested with a full stomach than goin' down the road on an empty stomach. C'mon, it's O.K."

  Although Catwalk had some reservations, he followed his friend. Fried chicken sounded real good.

  Maxine Puckett watched the boys walk across the road. In her previous profession she'd become an accurate judge of men’s character. She didn't think these were the desperadoes Barker had warned her about, but they fit the physical description, and that could be as bad as being guilty. She decided to find out what was going on, because according to Chet, the Deputy was ready to shoot the colored boy on sight. She knew of Alton Jones' Klan activities and his reputation as a violent hot head. If anyone needed a warning, it was the two boys and not the local residents.

  She met them at the door and said, "Come on in. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes."

  The boys shuffled into the kitchen, hats in hand. Maxine noticed the black boy’s eyes were the size of saucers. She offered Curly a cigarette, which he accepted. When she offered Catwalk one, he shook his head. She asked him, "Have you ever smoked a cigarette?"

  Catwalk shook his head. She asked Curly, "Who's your friend?"

  "This is Luke, but I call him Catwalk 'cause he can run a boxcar catwalk like a rabbit."

  Maxine smiled and said, "That so, Catwalk?"

  He nodded, his eyes filled with apprehension. Maxine said, "You can talk, I don't mind."

  He cleared his throat and managed, "Thank you, ma'am."

  Maxine motioned to the table, "Sit down. We need to talk before we eat."

  She lit a cigarette and said, "The sheriff and his deputy are spreading the word about a couple of murderers. Seems these guys killed and raped a couple hoboes over by Bailey's Junction. Their description fits you two, but I don't think you're the killer types. You better tell me what this is all about, because there's a misunderstanding circulating, and you could be in a hell of a lot of trouble."

  Curly took a drag on his cigarette, and then told his story.

  When he finished, Maxine asked Catwalk, "Did you hurt the guy before you threw him off the train?"

  Catwalk looked at Curly; he wasn't sure what to say. Curly answered, "He broke his arm to get the knife away before he threw him out the door."

  Maxine again asked, "You sure that's all you did?"

  This time Catwalk answered, "Yes ma'am, when I saw they had Curly's pants down.…"

  Curly piped up, "Ya' didn't have to tell her that."

  Maxine said, "Were they trying to rape you, Curly?"

  Sheepishly, "Uh, yes ma'am."

  Maxine asked, "So what happened to the second hobo?"

  Curly said, "Well, see these guys were some real mean bastards. I didn't know what to do, so I threatened to cut him. He begged me not to, but I felt like hurting this guy really bad."

  He took a drag off his cigarette and Maxine asked, "What did you do?"

  "I wanted to stick that knife in him, but Catwalk told me not to, or he'd die for sure."

  Maxine said, "Good thinking, Catwalk."

  Curly continued, "I made the guy jump off the train without his pants."

  Maxine talked as she served dinner. "You better listen close because these are the cold, hard facts. You both murdered someone. The circumstances point to self defense, but unless you can find a lawyer to defend you and a jury to acquit you, you're going to do hard time. And Catwalk, in this part of the country, they'll find a way to string you up before you even see a courtroom. Now this deputy that saw you duck into the field, he's as mean as the guys you threw off the train. He hates black people and he uses his badge as an excuse to shoot them. The sheriff ain't got the guts to do anything about it, so he pretends it ain't happening."

  Everyone started eating. Maxine said, "I want you guys to stay in the hayloft until it gets dark. I'm going to give you directions to a farm over by Junction City that has hay trucks leaving for Oklahoma in the morning. Hop on one of those trucks and stay out of sight. Don't try to hop a train 'cause the railroad bulls around here are bad. Head north and try to find work on a harvest crew."

  Curly said, "Trouble is, Maxine, there ain't no work out there."

  Maxine became upset that the boys didn't realize how much hatred they were up against. "Curly, damn it! You can't stay around here. There are too many people looking for someone to take out their anger on. You stay around here, you'll end up behind bars and Catwalk—you’re a dead man walking."

  This brought about a silence while two boys, who were growing up much quicker than they'd planned, finished their meal.

  For the search, Deputy Jones had been paired with John Townsend, a local farmer. He'd chosen John because he had an Oldsmobile sedan and was meek enough not to question the deputy’s instructions.

  The Deputy had planned his twofold strategy that would continue the hunt for the two killers and give him a chance to pay a call to the red head who’d moved into the old Clements place. Ever since she’d moved in, Jones had been trying to gain Maxine’s favor. Because she was a retired whore from New Orleans, he thought she'd be an easy mark. To his chagrin he’d discovered that she was more discriminating than he’d planned on and had resisted his advances. Now, he had a reason to go by her place, and he was determined to impress her. First, he had to get rid of Townsend.

  They drove to an intersection of two farm roads and he told Townsend to get out and watch the roads from all four directions. The farmer asked, "What should I do if I see them?"

  "Just fire a couple of shots into the air; I'll be back right away."

  As the deputy drove to Maxine's place, thoughts of the shapely red head brought a lecherous smile to his face. This time he was going to be a little more assertive in his advances toward the woman.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The boys had been in the hayloft for an hour when Maxine saw the car pull into the yard. Seeing Deputy Jones step out of the Oldsmobile, she swore out loud. She despised the man and right now he was the last person she wanted to see.

  Jones yelled, “Hello, the house.”

  Maxine walked out to meet him, while thinking of the quickest way to get rid of him without raising his suspicion. She said, “Hello, Alton. What can I do for you?”

  With an air of importance, Jones hitched up his gun belt and tilted his Stetson back on his head. With a grin he said, “I came to tell you about a couple of bad hombres that might be around here.”

  “Chet already told me about them. I haven’t seen them; nobody’s been here.”

  Hoping Jones would get the hint that the conv
ersation was over, she turned and walked toward the door.

  The Deputy said, “You ain’t bein’ very neighborly. Most people would invite me in for a cup of coffee.”

  “I don’t have time, Alton. I have to get a pie out of the oven and then feed my chickens. Thanks for stopping by.”

  Maxine walked into the house, locking the screen door behind her.

  Jones, seething from her rebuff, decided to use his official status to extend his stay. Through the screen, he said, “You sure there ain’t been anyone here?

  “I’m sure, deputy. Why don’t you go look for these guys elsewhere?”

  Maxine’s uncooperative attitude infuriated Jones. He yelled, “Lady, you ain’t bein’ very helpful to the law. Maybe you’d better let me come in and take a look around.”

  From the kitchen, Maxine said, “There’s no one here deputy. Why can’t you get that through your thick redneck skull?”

  Her last comment pushed Jones over the edge. He jammed his fist through the screen, unlocked the door and walked into the kitchen.

  When she heard his boots, Maxine backed up next to the oven and said, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? I didn’t invite you into my house.”

  “I thought, since you’re behaving so strange, that I’d better take a look around. I think you’re hiding something.”

  Maxine yelled, “I could be hiding a bull elephant in here and you wouldn’t know it. Get out of my house, now!”

  Jones walked closer to her and said, “And if I don’t leave, what’re you gonna do, baby? You gonna whack me with a spatula?” The he glanced at the kitchen sink and saw the dirty dishes. “You sure got a lot of dirty dishes for one person. You better tell me what’s going on, lady, or I might have to take you in for questioning.

  Again Maxine said, “My sister came by earlier and we had lunch. Is there a law against that?”

  Jones saw the Colt revolver lying on the counter. He walked over and picked it up, spun the cylinder and looked hard at Maxine. “What are you doing with this? Why’d you need a gun when your sister was here? Is there something you’re not telling me?”