Authors: Reavis Z Wortham
Dark Places (14 page)
High, thin clouds scudded over Amarillo, a welcome departure from the depressing clouds sitting over most of east Texas for more than two weeks.
James Parker waited against the fender of his Bel Air in front of Peggy's Coffee House and watched Ned pull his smoking Plymouth off the two-lane Route 66. He expected James to be there because he'd stopped at a drugstore phone booth in Quanah, Texas, to call back to Center Springs. Ned learned from Miss Becky about the search for the missing businessmen, Cale's theft of the money, and that James planned to meet him at the Amarillo coffee shop.
It had been a long two-day trip from Dallas to Peggy's parking lot. While Crow spent most of his time dozing against the passenger door, rousing only when they slowed down in every small town that seemed to be spaced exactly thirty miles apart, Ned steered past fields of endlessly rocking jack pumps and isolated farmhouses protected by tall fences of cedars that broke the constant wind. As they neared the Texas panhandle, the landscape shifted from groves of shin oaks and ever-present mesquite trees to grain silos, round fields watered by irrigation, and cotton gins.
The Fury started knocking outside of Estelline and by the time they reached the outskirts of Amarillo, black smoke poured from the tailpipe. Adding to his worries about the car, Ned was dismayed with the number of diners and motor court motels that lined up on both sides of the highway.
He showed Pepper's photo over and over to the mom and pop motels and coffee shops beckoning weary travelers with neon cowboys, teepees, or wagons flickering in the darkness. In the daytime, the same colorful signs vied for attention by announcing refrigerated air, swimming pools, and the newest attraction, color television.
No one recalled seeing the runaways.
He killed the engine and it rattled to death. Ned stepped out, bent from the pain in his stomach. The constant ache was taking its toll, draining him of energy. James was torn between concern for his dad and the need to know about the big Indian getting out on the other side. He chose Ned and pushed off from the fender.
“What's wrong?”
“Stomach's aching. It's been acting up.” He rubbed it for a moment, then forced himself to straighten up. “What have you found out?”
“Nothing.” James' hands didn't seem to know what to do. “Nobody knows nothing. How about you?”
“Didn't find anything out in Dallas, and we stopped in near'bout every town between here and there. I don't know where those kids might be.”
James jerked his head. “Who's that?”
“Crow.” Ned waved him over. “Hey Crow, this is my son James, Pepper's daddy.”
James watched him come around the car, thinking to himself that Crow was made of spring steel and actually
flowed
instead of walked. They shook, each taking the measure of the other man. Complete opposites, both liked what they saw.
“You're helping us find my daughter?”
“That's why I'm here.”
“You think you have something we don't?”
“I can talk to these kids, something y'all can't do. You guys are looking in the wrong places. They won't be in motels, or diners, or on busses.”
“How do you know that?”
“Have either of y'all ever lived on the road?” He continued when they shook their heads. “I do. I spend a lot of time moving from one place to another. You learn a lot of tricks right quick, like where to sleep and eat, or get out of the weather.”
“You running from the law?”
“People keep asking me that.” Crow tilted his head toward Ned, his black hair momentarily hanging over one eye. He pulled it back with a finger. “Now it looks like I'm running
with
the law.”
Ned removed his Stetson to rub his bald head, feeling dampness that could only be associated with the way he felt. “So what do you think?”
Crow waved a circle in the air. “They won't be inside, if they're here. They'll be around back.”
James frowned.
“They'll either be hoping for a handout from the kitchen, or going through the garbage cans.”
James' eye narrowed. “Digging through the trash? She wasn't raised like that.” He felt sick at his stomach to think his baby was eating from trash cans.
“I'm sure she wasn't, but it's free, so they save their money for when times get hard. Folks throw away a lot of good food, or the cook in the back'll give them a handout, if there haven't been too many through already.”
“They don't sleep back there.”
“No, James. They'll sleep with other kids they find. They might be in someone's house, or in the backseat of a car, or a van. They might spend a night or two under a bridge or maybe hitch a ride with a trucker and sleep while he drives. Those guys are pretty good about picking them up.”
Ned deflated. “Why didn't you tell me all this in the car, instead of letting me stop so many times on the way here?”
“You needed to see for yourself how hopeless your way is, and I wanted to talk to both of you at the same time.”
“It
is
hopeless.” Tears welled in James' eyes.
The tendons on Crow's crossed arms bulged like thick ropes. “No, my way ain't and it works by talkin' to the right people.” He jerked a thumb toward a pair of attractive teenage girls walking down the street. Dressed in bell-bottom jeans patched with bright material, flowered shirts, strings of colorful beads, and long, straight hair held back with bright headbands, they carried sack purses with long straps over their shoulders. Both were barefoot. “These guys are travelers, too. Gimme a minute.”
They watched as Crow's demeanor completely changed. He walked toward the kids in a loose shuffle, bouncing on his toes. He bobbed his head as if listening to music. When the distance closed, he raised two fingers.
“Peace, ladies.”
The dark-haired girl in granny glasses flashed the peace sign back. She peered over the top of the round lenses. “Hey, man.” It was obvious they were both interested in the young man with the long, black hair.
“You guys on the road?”
They nodded. The blond girl tilted her head to study Crow. “We're hitching to San Francisco.”
“Cool. Hey, my name's Crow.”
The brunette stood hipshot. “Far out. I'm Dona, and this is Kandi.”
“Ladies, don't take this the wrong way, because I'm looking at a couple of very hot mamas, but I'm trying to find my girlfriend. We had a bad scene and she split on me a couple of days ago. I'm sure she's chilled by now, but we need to get back together. Do you guys know of a place around here where she might have crashed?”
Ned and James exchanged a puzzled glance. It was as if they were talking in a completely new language.
Kandi flicked her hair and indicated Ned and James. “Bummer. Who are they?”
“Couple of dudes I hitched with to get here.”
Dona pulled her granny glasses even lower with one finger. “That one's wearing a badge.”
Crow knew better than to tell them the truth. If they knew the older men were searching for Pepper, the conversation would be over. “He's cool. Says he's on the way to California himself, I think for some kind of convention or something. They said I could bum all the way, and baby, that beats riding my thumb from here to there.”
“Dig it.” The girls turned their attention back to Crow. “We heard of a pad not far away. The guy who owns it's pretty cool. We're going there ourselves.”
“Far out. How about you cop a ride with us and I can check it out.”
“They'll take us?” Kandi wasn't convinced. “What's their angle?” She'd been on the road long enough to know that older men sometimes expected certain forms of payment for a ride.
Crow grinned. “They don't have one. They're a couple of cool dudes is all. You in?”
Dona chewed a thumbnail, thinking. “I'm hip.”
“Cool. Come on.” Crow led them back to the cars. “Mr. Ned. This is Dona and Kandi. They're gonna show us a place where Pepper might have hung out.” His back to the girls, he frowned and gave the tiniest of head shakes to warn them not to say much.
Dona used her middle finger to gently poke at Ned's gold badge. “I've never been this close to the fuzz without being in trouble.”
He suddenly became conscious of the badge and gun on his hip. “I don't have any jurisdiction here.”
When she reached toward the pistol to give it a poke, Ned put himself between them. “Y'all get in the Chev-a-lay.”
Crow opened the back door. “I'll ride in the back with these two. James, you get shotgun.”
Dona shrugged and slid smoothly into the seat. Crow followed, pulling Kandi in after him. Confused, James started to argue about who was going to drive his car and then changed his mind. Without a word, he went around to the passenger side and dropped heavily into the seat, muttering to himself.
The neglected frame house was only a mile to the southwest, tucked into a neighborhood built immediately after World War II. All the windows gaped open and cheap curtains moved in the slight breeze. Rock 'n' roll music filled the air. Only Crow and the girls recognized the Strawberry Alarm Clock singing “Incense and Peppermints.”
Crow spoke over the seat. “Thanks, Mr. Ned, for the ride. Why don't y'all grab a bite to eat and come back in an hour or so?”
Not knowing what else to do, Ned scratched the stubble on his cheek, then absently rubbed his aching stomach. “A'ite. You girls be careful with these people.”
Kandi gave his shoulder a pat as they slid out of the seat. “Thanks, Pops!”
They watched the trio disappear into the house and went back to the diner to decide what to do with Ned's Plymouth.
Realizing it wasn't smart to stand in the rain while the dog worked, Anna and John joined Buck and Cody in his car to watch through the windshield. Rain thundered on the roof and the wipers barely kept up with the big drops slapping the glass.
Anna fidgeted in the passenger seat. “This is like watching grass grow.”
“This rain is something, though.” John shifted in the back to stretch his legs.
“We had falling weather like this in Viet Nam.” Cody shivered at the thought. “You'd be walking along under a cloudy sky and it'd come a frog strangler for a few minutes, then it might get sunny for a while. The humidity was so thick you couldn't breathe. We could actually see the water hanging in the air. Other times, it'd rain for weeks. We couldn't keep our feet dry, and guys fell out with all kinds of foot problems. We called it jungle rot. Buck, didn't y'all call it something else over there in Japan?”
The former marine nodded. “Trench foot. Bad stuff. I've seen the flesh fall off feet from it. I remember one ol' boy took off his socks and his feet should have been attached to a dead man. The doc used a brush and scrubbed off chunks of⦔
Anna held up a hand. “Boys, I know this is probably some kind of rite of passage, but there's a lady in here. Can we change the subject, like back to where we started?”
They laughed and Cody slowed the wipers as the rain slacked off. “I saw on the weather that this is all coming from a hurricane that came out of the left coast of Mexico and then across the desert.”
“I didn't think it rained in the desert.”
Cody glanced into the rearview mirror to see John, instead of turning around. “This one dumped a lot of water there, and now they say it might fall here for another week.”
John crossed his arms, staring out the side window. “Where we're sitting'll be underwater in a week.”
“Maybe sooner than that.” Anna wiped the foggy glass to better see the Wilson boys and their dog through the gray curtain.
Cody's radio came alive. “Sheriff?”
It was Martha Wells in dispatch. A longtime veteran in that position, she was cool and calm in a crisis, but everyone knew she'd break down and cry like her heart was broke when it was all said and done. “Go ahead.”
“Is Anna with you? I tried both her radio and John's, but they're not answering.”
Cody mentally kicked himself for not letting her know the other two deputies were out of their cars and with him. “They are.”
“Anna, we got a call here a little while ago from Cecil Hutler at the drive-in picture show. He says he needs to talk to you as quick as you can.”
She took the microphone from Cody's hand. “All right. I'll head on over there right now. Did he say what he wanted?”
“Nope. Wanted to talk to you.”
“Fine. Thanks.”
“Cody?”
Anna passed him the microphone. He mashed the button. “Go ahead.”
“We've got half a dozen wrecks and there's high water down south toward nigâ¦on the other side of the tracks. You want me to send someone down there?”
John was already opening the back door. “I'm gone.”
Anna climbed out. “I'll get someone to work the wrecks.” She closed the door and trudged back to her car through the mud.
“Y'all drive careful.” Cody rehooked the radio and cracked the driver's window for ventilation. “Buck, you wanna get up here?”
With John gone, Buck stretched both legs across the seat and pulled his hat down low. The justice of the peace sounded a lot like Judge O.C. “Naw, I'm comfortable right 'chere.”
Outside, light rain pattered on the car's roof and Cracker sniffed the wet ground for dead people.
The glittery Silver Spur Cafe and Coffee Shop in Santa Rosa bustled with activity when three other buses disgorged dozens of passengers. They scattered with their Brownies, lined up at the cafe door for a table, or drifted into the curio shop to browse the same Japanese-made “authentic” Indian souvenirs they'd seen at other stops.
Pepper had an idea and grabbed Cale's hand. They joined a group of tourists going through the front door and entered the New Mexico cafe fragrant with bacon, fried onions, hamburgers, and cigarette smoke. Red and orange vinyl booths filled the right side by the windows, and a counter lit by large round chrome and glass globes took up the left. The clatter of dishes coming from behind the counter proved how busy the tourist stop was at that time of day.
When it came their time to be seated, the harried waitress in a white uniform saw two teenagers standing alone. Her scratched nametag identified her as Molly. “We don't serve hippies⦔
Pepper's eyes flashed and she jerked a thumb back over her shoulder. “We're not eating with our parents! They're losers, making us go on this stupid trip. We want to sit at the counter!” Standing on her tiptoes, she pointed a finger down the line of tourists. “Put
them
on the other side of the cafe!”
Pepper's shrill voice cut across the crowd. Some stopped to stare, others examined their feet, and a few laughed. “Right, dear old mom and dad?”
Molly followed Pepper's aim and caught the eye of a middle-aged couple embarrassed by the scene in front of them. The man in a crew cut raised an empathetic eyebrow toward the waitress that said, “What are you gonna do with kids these days?”
Molly sighed and waved toward the crowded counter. “Come on, kids. Sit at the end down there, and keep your voice down, hon.”
Pepper led the way past the line of people perched on red stools. She whispered. “If we play this right, we can eat for free. I'll tell her to take the bill to our parents over there.”
Cale laughed. “That's pretty smart.”
They plucked menus from the holder and when Molly came around back, ordered the daily special.
She watched Molly swing back toward the booths to deliver plates. “You know, I think we're gonna walk this check instead. No need to stick those folks with the meal. They didn't do nothin' to us.”
The cafe buzzed with conversation. A kid in a nearby booth stuck a dime in the tableside jukebox. Bobby Bare filled the air with “Detroit City.” Pepper wished there was a little jukebox on her end of the counter so she could play some rock. She figured that was exactly what this bunch of squares needed to hear.
Another bus arrived bringing a fresh rush of hungry travelers. The kids were halfway through their gray meat loaf when Molly came around to refill the glasses and coffee cups lined up along the counter. She was pouring hot tea over what was left of the ice in Cale's glass when her eyes hardened. She gave her head a stiff shake.
Pepper noticed and spun on her stool to find a black family in line had finally reached the cafe's glass vestibule. The dad's face fell. He spoke softly into his wife's ear. Her shoulders slumped and the couple gently guided their three children out the exit door. Suddenly furious, Pepper spun back on her stool. “What'd you do that for?”
Molly met her gaze. “For
them
, honey. It would have been embarrassing if they'd gotten all the way inside. My manager don't allow no coloreds or Indians.”
Pepper felt her face drain of blood. For the first time in her life, she realized what Miss Becky, a full-blood Choctaw, and Grandpa Ned had known all along about the world. “You better run me off, too, then. I'm a quarter Indian.”
“But you can't tell. Hon, your back was to me when I pointed for them to come to the back. They can get something there, but coloreds can't eat in the cafe.”
“Damn the back door. I won't eat here, neither.”
“You already have.”
She threw down her fork. “C'mon Cale. Let's get gone.”
“But I'm not done with my dinner.”
“I am.”
“You're gonna leave hungry because of some niggers you don't even know?”
The air around Pepper sucked away, leaving her in a silent vacuum. Not trusting herself to speak, she stalked away.
“Fine,” Molly said, picking up Pepper's half-eaten plate.
She was outside when Cale caught up to her. “Where are you going?”
“I want to see.”
“What?”
They rounded the corner. She stopped, drained of all energy. “That.”
People ate in haphazardly parked cars and trucks. An Indian couple squatted in the skinny shade of the wall, while a line of little barefoot kids sat on a tailgate, swinging their legs and devouring sandwiches from a bag. A Mexican family walked past a hippie couple sharing a hamburger and knocked on the back door.
The colored family wasn't there, but a well-dressed middle aged black man smiled, nodded, and kept eating behind the wheel of his Oldsmobile.
Pepper started for the open back door, but Cale grabbed her before she blew past the Indians and into the kitchen. “You can't go in there and stir up a stink. I know you're madder'n an old wet hen, but they'll call the laws on us. Let's go.”
Pepper spun to give him what for when she stopped, hearing Molly crying inside the door. “Those kids walked the check.” She sniffled. “Dammit. I should have known better, but they tricked me and I can't afford to pay for another meal out of my own pocket. That's three this week, and Don'll take a quarter of my check.”
Her voice moved away to disappear in the clatter of dishes. Unsure which way to turn, Pepper stayed in one spot for several seconds. Then she held out her hand. “Money.”
“What?”
“Give me that money you got squirreled away.”
“Why?”
She snapped her fingers.
Cale reached into his pocket and dug out several bills. Pepper glanced at them, then went inside. When she came out, her eyes were full of tears. “Come on.”
“What'd you do?”
“Paid for our dinner.”
“After what she said about them colored people?”
“Don't matter. She's trying to get by, same as the rest of these folks.” They walked back to the highway and Pepper stuck her thumb out. “This ain't no better'n where we come from.”
