I slowly climbed up the back of the ridge toward the grave. My energy was giving out, and I took several short breaks on the way up. Then I collapsed on the bench in the sun and stared at the grave in surprise. The old bush at the head of the grave, where I’d tied so many feathers and shells, was lush with green leaves. I wasn't sure but thought it might be a cottonwood tree.
After a short rest, I set to straightening the colored stones, shells, and old bits of bone and horn I’d decorated the gravel mound with, pulling weeds and cleaning away the leaves and branches that had piled up in my absence. The one time I'd asked Joseph about it over dinner, he just grunted, dumped his plate in the trash, and disappeared into the trees. He didn't come back until long after dark. I didn't ask again.
I downed half my remaining water from the plastic bottle I’d brought along then made the slow crossing along the jagged boulders and blades of rock separating that ridge from Moron’s Rest. I’d crossed it so many times while I was hiding there that I’d forgotten just how frightening a trip it was. The sheer drop to certain death on each side wasn’t so impressive when I was too hungry to care. This time was an adventure all over again. My legs trembled, and sweat poured down my face as I had another of those hot flashes that had come and gone since my illness.
Finally sitting down outside the lower entrance to my cave, I rested for a bit. For some reason I couldn’t quite explain, I was scared to go back in, as if my time with Joseph had all been a fever dream, and once I stepped back into my rocky home, I would plunge back into the nightmare of isolation and filth.
Something about that dark hole was no longer friendly, no longer inviting. I crouched my way inside. Every step or so, I took a long look at the rock under my feet and the ledges to each side. I was especially careful to lean down and look up before I took another slow step. Moron's Rest had been snake free all winter, but summer might have been an entirely different story. Apart from some fresh spiderwebs, it looked empty, but I kept looking anyway.
The place was a wreck. More than one animal had spent time there while I was gone. My supplies were scattered, the dried meat long gone. My mangy furs had been chewed to tatters, presumably by coyotes, opossums, or maybe rats. Joseph had taken my guns and bow back to the cabin. Everything else had been left to rot.
My drying rack and the scavenged plastic containers of water were still there, but taken as a whole, the place had lost its savage appeal. I wanted to remember it as a hidden sanctuary, an outlaw’s retreat. After having spent weeks in Joseph’s neatly ordered home, the cave looked like the filthy hole it really was. It smelled as if a family of skunks had crawled in, puked up some old gym socks, and given the place a good spraying on their way out. I started gagging and had to flee back to the fresh air outside. I guessed I’d been there so long I had gone nose deaf to the stench, or maybe that was just the result of my sickness and the mess I’d made of the place those last days.
Once my dry heaves stopped, I eased my way down the trails to the river, stepping carefully to avoid turning an ankle on the loose rocks. I removed the few snare wires left there and tripped the old traps and deadfalls I’d surrounded the place with. My willow-limb hammock was still hanging in the trees above the water, so I decided to crawl in for a siesta. It lasted all of thirty seconds before collapsing with only the briefest warning of crackling bark, and I was dumped onto the rocky ground. I scraped my left hand badly and knew I was going to have one hell of a bruise on my shoulder the next day. I felt unwelcome, like an outsider in a world that used to be mine.
I briefly considered taking the shortcut across the river to the cabin but had my doubts about whether I was strong enough to fight the current. Sore and tired, I started the long hike back up the ridge. At the bench by the grave, I stretched out on my back, looking for shapes in the clouds as I did when I was a kid. They were harder to see now, but I still spotted a few. I’d stolen an old trucker hat from Joseph’s shop, and I pulled it down a bit to block the sun from my eyes.
When I pulled it back up, my back was sore, and the sun was nearing the treetops behind me.
“Was beginning to wonder how long you were going to lay there.”
I jumped so hard I almost fell off the bench. Joseph was sitting on the far side of the grave, cross-legged and barefoot. The ease with which he could sneak up on me was disturbing. He seemed to enjoy it, but it gave me the heebie-jeebies.
“How’d you find me?”
“Didn’t take a bloodhound. Came home and you were gone. Checked the shop and the trails around the place. You hadn’t stolen the Jeep or four-wheeler. Seemed a safe bet you came over here,” he said, still staring at the grave. “You cleaned it up some. I come over sometimes. Not as often as I used to.”
“Who was she?” I asked.
“She?”
“Just a guess. Figured most guys wouldn’t go to so much trouble for just anyone. You have to be, like, forty. No woman around. No pictures. Just taking a shot in the dark.”
“Good shot,” he said.
His voice had gone strange, and I had another feeling that maybe I should leave the subject alone, but I’d wondered too many times who lay buried there and made up too many fantasies about everything from Native American braves to aliens not to ask.
When he turned his eyes toward me, I tensed. They were so full of hurt, rage, and something I couldn’t guess at that I thought I’d pushed it too far and this strange old hermit was going to plant me right there beside her. When he spoke though, his voice was soft and quiet.
"Met Talia at Jan's one day. She was riding a new black Rancher. Wanted it almost as bad as I wanted her." Joseph smiled and looked back at the grave. "First time in my life I didn't know what to say to a woman. She knew it too. Somehow, she always heard what I was thinking. Asked her to marry me here. Never did say yes or no, but three weeks later, we was married right over there by a Choctaw preacher with hair even longer than hers. Whole family was Choctaw. I was the only white man in sight."
Joseph stood up in one smooth motion, walked over to the edge of the drop, and stood staring downriver. I stayed put.
"What happened?"
"She was pregnant. Eight months or so. She wanted to name him after me. Little Joseph. Quarry was still open back then. I was running the dozer, scraping gravel, when I got the call."
He was quiet for a long time, but I just waited. Even from the side, the look on his face was frightening.
"She came home from her father's and found somebody in the trailer. They killed her for the TV and some copper pipe I had stacked outside. Shot her in the head. Stabbed her in the stomach. Lost my wife and Little Joseph at the same time. Never even got to meet him."
I heard a quiet pop. I looked down, and his fists were clenching so hard the knuckles were cracking.
"I'm sorry," I said several minutes later.
When he looked back at me, the madness was gone, and he was just kind, gentle Joseph again. His hands relaxed, and he motioned for me to join him, but I hadn’t forgotten that look and stopped several feet to his left.
“Down there past the bend is something you should see sometime,” he said.
“You talking about the gator?” I didn’t like where this sudden change in the conversation was going.
“Know about him, do you? Bought him off a farm north of Lake Pontchartrain ten years back. He was just a little fart then. No more than a foot long. Kept him in the shop in a big aquarium for a while. Upgraded him to a kiddie pool when he got too big and eventually had to let him go in the river. Usually lays up under a brush pile in that creek down there. Sometimes, he wanders off for a while in winter, but come May, he’s always back. Good eating hereabouts, I guess.”
I watched sometimes when Joseph fed the lizards and snakes in the shop, but I stayed well back. The lizards were okay. Some of them were pretty, but those freaking snakes weirded me right out. He kept the place locked most of the time. He obviously didn’t want me in there alone, and I wasn’t about to ar
gue. I didn’t much like the slightly sweet stench in there. I’d caught a faint whiff of the same thing from his bedroom a time or two, but he’d never invited me in. The one time he was gone and I got nosy, the door was locked. I wanted to know what sort of slimy zoo he had in there, but I didn’t ask. The first time I was dumb enough to turn on the light in the living-room aquarium while Joseph was gone, a fat rattler was staring back at me. I was fine with the snakes out in the shop, but having one in the house seemed crazy. I should have known he'd like having an alligator nearby too.
“Saw it once years ago,” I said. “I stay away from that part of the river.”
“Good idea,” Joseph said. “He’s been known to eat some strange stuff. Reckon you wouldn’t turn his stomach none.” He was smiling, but it wasn’t a pleasant smile, not at all.
“Maybe I’ll introduce you sometime.”
“Better head back before dark.” I moved toward the trail without completely turning my back on him.
“Yeah,” he said. “Got some rib-eyes ready for the grill. Seems like an awful good night for singed steak and suds.” His usual bored but friendly expression was back, and he showed me a shortcut to the train tracks.
Most of the way home, we chatted about the funk in my cave, the tables we’d been working on, and who was better, Creedence Clearwater Revival or Lynyrd Skynyrd. I didn’t forget that look on his face when I asked about the grave. He knew more about loss than I would’ve thought. It explained a little about how easily he’d accepted my story and seemed to truly understand, and I realized I’d started to feel relaxed with him. I felt almost like I was back home—with the father I should have had.
I washed the dishes after supper, and Joseph wandered outside. When I finished, he wasn’t in his usual chair. He was standing at the edge of the cliff, looking upriver with a Coors dangling from one hand. I got myself another from the ice chest and watched him until full dark. He just stood there, not drinking, the beer forgotten in whatever memory he was lost in. An hour later, I stopped watching and went to bed. A long time passed before sleep finally came, and when it did, my dreams were full of scales and dark water.
#########
A week or so later, I woke late one morning to find Joseph gone on one of his "errands." I finished up some sanding on the table and chairs we'd been working on, cleaned the shop, and spent twenty minutes trying another series of combinations on the lock to the reptile room. I didn't particularly want to go in but found it kind of fascinating in a creepy way. I finally tired of failing and wandered back to the cabin.
Joseph's selection of sandwich meat left a lot to be desired. Apparently, he was unaware of any choices other than bologna or bologna with cheese. Spotting the Jeep keys on their hook near the door, I decided to make a run into Dougherty to see if Jan's had something better to offer. It was a little dumb to go alone, but we’d been there several times, and the town was so far back in the hills strangers were rare at best.
Joseph generally left the doors and windows off the Jeep, which made the drive sort of exhilarating with nothing between me and road rash but a seat belt that had a disturbing tendency to release itself for no obvious reason. The day was so hot that even sliding around the curves at thirty miles an hour failed to cool me off. The wind blasting through the open cab was only slightly better than no wind at all. We hadn't gotten much rain in a while, and when I passed an old farm truck heading the other way, the wall of dust hanging in its wake forced me to slow down and pull my T-shirt up over my nose and mouth. I went almost a mile with my eyes squinched shut against the grit before it finally settled enough to see more than ten feet.
I hopped out in front of Dougherty's one convenience store and paused to beat the worst of the dust from my shirt, jeans, and hair before I walked inside.
"You should try washing those clothes and maybe taking a bath sometime," Jan said as I walked in.
"Can't do it, Miss Jan. If the ladies see me looking clean, I'll never keep them off me. Have to tote a stick as it is."
"Hanging around that Joseph has already ruined your manners, I see." Her tone was stern, but a smile was fighting to get out past the serious expression and snuff stains at the corners of her mouth. "Did you come all the way to town just to practice your stupid, or you going to buy something?"
"Was hoping you might be able to scrape together one of those amazing pulled-pork sandwiches for me and maybe some fries."
"Boy, like I got nothing better to do than wait on you hand and foot. There might be some pork left if the dog didn't eat it all. I'll check."
I looked over to where Prince Albert, who had once been a basset but now more closely resembled a bag of mange, lay on a pile of old towels in the corner. He shifted slightly and let out a wet snore, and his impressive half mile of tongue fell out and flopped onto the floor.
“Think it'll bother Albert too much if I open that cooler behind him for a Coke?"
"Nah. Just be careful not to wake him. He can get right vicious if you startle him."
"I'll watch myself close then," I said with a laugh. "Hate to lose a leg to the rabies." I'd been in the store only a handful of times, but I'd never seen Albert conscious.
"I've been hoping you'd come in anyway," Jan said after I retrieved a cold bottle of Coke from behind the snoring Albert.
"Why's that?" I asked, suddenly tense.
"Been some guys in here asking about Joseph. Scumbags. All them piercings and tattoos everywhere."
"What did you tell them?"
"Tell them? He's a clown sometimes, but I've known that boy a long time. I told them to mind their damn business."
"What did they want to know?"
"They played it cool, but they obviously were wondering where he lived. Pretending like they was friends of his, looking to surprise him. Surprised them instead. Showed them my shotgun and told them to get the hell out."
I had no doubt she'd done just that.
"I'll let him know," I said.
"Do that. I don't believe he'd associate with trash like them on purpose."
I nodded and handed her a twenty when she rang me up.
"They also wanted to know if I'd seen anybody new hereabouts. Said they'd been looking for their cousin. Kid named Sam. Said he run off over the winter."
I froze for a second, with my handful of change halfway to my pocket, then tried to play it off.
But Jan had seen my reaction. "Didn't say nothing about you either, Jeremy."
"Thanks. I guess. Don't know why anybody would be asking about me."
Her arched eyebrow told me exactly how little she believed my answer. "You take care and enjoy that sandwich. Be sure you don't forget to tell Joseph, and if they really are friends of his, he should tell them to stay out of my store. Next time, I won’t be so kind."
"Yes, ma'am. I'll do that."
"And, Jeremy, if something happens... If you need help, you or Joseph, I live in that blue house around the corner. Me and Albert. You come by any time. Day or night."
"Thanks, and, um, God bless you."
"Ain't seen much sign of God around these parts lately, but I thank you just the same."
#########
I told Joseph about Jan's warning that night. At least, I tried to. When he came home, he stopped on the porch by the ice chest and dropped into his favorite rocker. He had an open beer, but something about his eyes and voice said that wasn't his first. He didn't seem particularly interested in the strangers or their questions. I waited until the next morning to tell him they'd been asking around about me too.
"That's strange," he said. "No reason for them to suspect you'd be around here. Ain't nobody seen you except me and Miss Jan. She wouldn't tell nobody nothing about either one of us. They could waterboard that woman, and she'd just spit and cuss."
"She said she pulled out the shotgun and sent them packing."
"Sounds about right. Been stopping in that store since the quarry was still open. I was fresh out of high school the first time s
he told me to mind my manners or get the hell out. Believe it's been too long since Jan's had a man." He chuckled and took another swig of his beer. "If I was twenty years older, I might have to knock the dust off her myself."
I didn't respond for a minute as I was busy fighting to keep that visual out of my head. How Joseph could find a sixty-year-old woman with snuff stains on her chin attractive I couldn't imagine and didn't want to.
“Joseph, I've been thinking it’s time I made a phone call,” I said, mostly just to change the subject.
I'd been fighting the urge to call home since I first came to the cabin. The long hours in the shop had helped me forget, but the nights were getting longer and filled with thoughts of home. Besides, if the Stanglers had somehow gotten the idea I was living here, I figured the best thing I could do for Joseph was to leave.
He looked me in the eye, opened his mouth to say something, but just nodded. Then he said, “Sleep on it tonight, and if you still feel the same tomorrow, I won't keep you from it. Don't let some punks asking questions make you nervy, though. They were just fishing blind. They come back around, and Miss Jan will let us know right quick."
We spent most of that day working in the shop. Joseph still took just a bit too much pleasure in showing me all the places I had screwed up, but I was getting better. I was finishing the inlay pieces for an end table and thinking about how the conversation with Dad might go, and I stuck the fat pad of my thumb in the band saw. Blood went everywhere. I grabbed a rag from the bin and tried to play it off, but Joseph insisted on taking a look. The blood was pumping steadily, and a little meat was bulging out.
“Jesus wept, Sam. That’s going to need stitches. Come on.”
He wrapped the rag back around it, grabbed his first aid kit from a shelf on the wall, and led me back to the house. He held my hand under the faucet for some time, squeezing until the blood slowed a bit, then he went after the cut with a scrub brush covered in disinfectant soap. I managed not to scream, but when he finally dried it off and poured rubbing alcohol on it, I almost passed out.
A Portion for Foxes Page 8