Homecoming (32 page)

Mr. Rudyard didn’t even get out of the truck. “I’ll be by at dark,” he said. He backed
the truck around and drove off. Dicey watched it go into the distance, back to the
barn, then around it and out of sight.

“Creepy,” James said.

“You can say that again,” Dicey agreed. “Maybeth, you okay?”

Maybeth nodded, wide-eyed.

“How long do we have to stay?” Sammy asked.

They all felt uneasy. Dicey tried to reassure them. “Just this afternoon. Then we’ll
take our pay and get out of here. Okay?”

They got to it. Because they were hungry, Dicey decided they could each eat two tomatoes.
That was fair enough, she figured. Then they all worked together, pushing or pulling
weeds away from the tomato plants. One would hold back the overgrowth, and the rest
would reach in for tomatoes, wresting the fruit from the stems. Their legs and hands
and faces were scratched. They had bug bites on every part of their bodies. Dirt was
smeared across their faces and arms and legs. They left the filled baskets where they
were when they finished with them.

After an hour they had completed one row. Two to a basket, they carried the bushels
down to where the pile of empty baskets waited. They had six baskets. “Three dollars,”
Dicey said.

Dicey’s back ached from bending over. Her hands stung where small scratches had accumulated.
She had never felt such heat before, an air that closed down over her and made it
hard to breathe.

“Hot,” James said. “It’s too hot, Dicey.”

“You two take a break,” Dicey said to Sammy and Maybeth. “Go off and explore a little.
Stick together though. When you’re rested, come back and help. Remember our name?”

“Verricker,” Sammy said. “What’s that?”

“Our father’s name,” Dicey said.

“That right?” James asked. “How do you know that?”

“So what,” Sammy said. “I like Tillerman better.”

Sammy and Maybeth wandered off down the edge of the field, going away from the house
and the dog. Dicey and James got back to work.

This row took longer. James grew sloppy and Dicey had to nag at him to keep at it
and find all the ripe tomatoes that grew
on the plants and on the long vines that crawled along next to the dry earth. “My
back hurts,” he protested. “I’m hot.” His face was streaked with dirt and sweat. His
eyes wavered between anger and self-pity. He crouched unwilling by her side.

“It’s only for an afternoon,” Dicey snapped at him.

Sammy and Maybeth returned before they had finished the row. “There’s another field,”
Sammy reported. “And a river. I wanted to go swimming but Maybeth wouldn’t.”

“The Choptank,” Dicey said.

“Could we swim across it?” James asked Sammy.

Sammy nodded. Dicey shot a triumphant glance at James. “It’s not wide,” Sammy said.
“I could swim it easy.”

“Can we go now, Dicey?” Maybeth asked.

Dicey almost said yes. They all looked at her, waiting. She shook her head. “Not before
we get paid,” she said grimly. “Don’t worry, we’ll be all right. As long as we’re
together.”

At late afternoon, when the sun was beginning to lower and the mosquitos were beginning
to rise, the green pickup truck returned. The children went eagerly to meet it.

Mr. Rudyard had the dog in the front seat with him. He climbed down and pulled on
a long rope to get the dog to follow him. The Tillermans crowded together. The dog
snarled at them.

“There’s a bag in the cab,” Mr. Rudyard said to Dicey. “The missus said I had to feed
you something.” He walked off, down to the far end of the field.

“What’s he going to do?” Maybeth whispered.

“I dunno,” Dicey said. Fear climbed up from her stomach to her throat. A sour, metallic
taste was in her saliva and she swallowed it down. She made herself climb up and get
the paper bag from the seat of the cab. Mr. Rudyard had left the keys in the ignition.

Mr. Rudyard tied the dog to a tree, using the end of the long rope. When he came back,
Dicey had decided what to do.

“We can’t pick anymore,” she said. “We have to go now,” she said.

He looked at her out of cold eyes. Then he said, “If he runs against that sapling
it’ll snap.” He got back into the truck and leaned out the window. “I keep him hungry,”
he remarked. He backed the truck around and drove off.

In the silence, Dicey could hear insects humming. “What does he
want
?” she demanded.

Nobody could answer her.

“We might as well eat,” Dicey said. They all sat down. Mrs. Rudyard had packed a tall
thermos of milk and a package of tall biscuits slathered with butter and bright strawberry
jam. They passed the thermos around. The biscuits looked delicious. Dicey took a bite
of one, and her stomach closed against it. She put it down on the wax paper.

Even James couldn’t eat. They looked at one another. “I’m sorry,” Dicey said.

“Well, I don’t care, I’m not picking anymore,” Sammy announced. He threw his unfinished
biscuit into the pile and they scattered around, like fallen blocks. “And you can’t
make me,” he said to Dicey.

Dicey couldn’t help smiling at him and that made her feel better. “I won’t try,” she
said. “James? What can we do?”

“I’d like to kill him and hit him,” Sammy said. “He scares Maybeth.” Maybeth had big
tears in her eyes.

“There’s the dog,” James said, “and the man.” Absentmindedly, he picked up a biscuit.
He took a bite, then tossed it down again. “He’s crazy, Dicey.”

“Bad crazy,” she agreed. “Don’t get on that truck again, no matter what.”

“He wants us to be scared,” Maybeth said. “He wants to hurt us.”

Dicey nodded. Her mind was working and working, and she couldn’t think of anything.
James just stared at her. She picked up her maroon bag from where she had put it beside
the bushels. She took out all of the money and jammed it into her pocket, with the
jackknife. (With a jackknife, if she had to, she could try to fight the man or the
dog.) She stuffed the map into the waistband of her shorts.

“We’re going to have to run,” she said. “When he comes back for the dog. James, you
take Maybeth. Maybeth, no matter what, you stick with James.” Sammy could take care
of himself. “Go for the river.”

“What about you?” James asked.

“I’m not sure,” Dicey tried to keep her voice normal. She had gotten them into this
mess, and if anyone got caught it should be her. “I’ll do something. You just keep
ready to run.”

It was deep twilight, shadowy and still, when the truck returned. The Tillermans sat
where Mr. Rudyard had left them. The headlights shone on them briefly. He backed the
truck so that its back section was where the filled bushel baskets waited and its
nose pointed almost straight down the road to the farmhouse. He got out and looked
at them.

“You’re not much use,” he observed. Maybeth grabbed Dicey’s hand as his eyes rested
on her. “I’ll just have to teach you. Now, load up,” he ordered. He walked down to
the dog, which barked a greeting.

“How does he know we’re alone?” James wondered.

“Quiet,” Dicey said. She looked into the cab to see if the keys had been left there.
They had. “Okay, now listen. When he’s to the dog, tell me. And when I say run, you
run, all of you, as fast as you can. You hear?”

They nodded. Dicey got up into the truck. She tried to forget about the man at the
far corner of the field. She looked
for the key and found it. She turned on the engine. Nothing happened. She looked at
the transmission box. A needle pointed to
D.
Quickly, she shifted it to
N.
“Now, Dicey,” James whispered.

She turned the key again, and the engine caught.

Dicey looked back over her shoulder. Mr. Rudyard ran toward them, his mouth open in
a yell. The dog ran ahead of him, at full cry, but held back by the rope that his
master had looped around his shoulder.

“James,” Dicey yelled. “Now. Run.”

She shifted into
D
, and turned the wheel so it would head straight down the road to the barn. If she
got it started, she figured, the incline would keep it going. She pushed on the accelerator
and threw herself out of the cab.

The ground surged up to meet her and the cab door slammed against her shoulder. It
hurt, but she didn’t have time to worry about that. She rolled onto her feet and looked
to see her family, waiting, watching her. “Go!” she shrieked.

Dicey led them into the middle of the tomato field, away from the man and the dog.
It was harder running, especially for Sammy with his short legs, but it would be harder
for Mr. Rudyard too. She let James and Maybeth pass her and slowed until she was behind
Sammy too.

They weren’t going to go without her. She didn’t have time to know how she felt about
that. She glanced over her shoulder.

Mr. Rudyard was already letting the dog’s rope fall from his shoulder as he ran after
the truck. He would catch it easily, but how soon? The dog looked after his master
for a second and then bent his head to the ground, snuffling something. Probably their
scent, Dicey thought, turning her head back and making a burst of speed to catch up.

Across the tomato field, and then across the next field, where
young corn made a narrow path for them to follow, they ran. Dicey tried to listen
for the sound of the dog behind them, or the sound of the motor coming out of the
darkness. But she could hear only their labored breathing and the stamping of their
feet. She charged through the row of brush and small trees that separated the second
field from the river, grabbing Sammy’s hand, pulling him with her. The earth fell
away from beneath her feet and she tumbled into water.

Water closed warm over Dicey’s head. She shut her eyes. She held tight on to Sammy’s
hand. How deep was it?

Her toes touched muddy river bottom and she pushed up. She shot out of the water.
It was only up to her chest.

“James? Maybeth?”

“Here,” James spoke just beyond her.

“It’s warm,” Sammy said.

In the distance, a truck motor roared.

“Straight across, then right, downstream. Okay? Stay close.”

They set out into darkness, paddling quietly across. Through the gentle sounds of
water, Dicey could hear their breathing. Dark water was all around them, and the dark
land behind, and the dark land ahead. Every now and then she lowered a tentative foot
to touch bottom.

The river was no more than fifty or sixty yards across, and it wasn’t long before
Dicey saw the opposite bank rise over her head, capped by a tangle of undergrowth
and trees. She put her foot down again. It sank into mud.

Dicey and James were tall enough to touch bottom, but the water was over the heads
of the smaller children. So Dicey and James each carried the weight of a younger one
floating beside. They made their way cautiously, silently, quickly, downstream. They
didn’t speak, not even when they heard the man breaking through the bushes behind
them upstream.

Sounds of someone walking hastily through underbrush across the river.

James moved doggedly on. Dicey followed him. They were near enough to get out and
run, if Mr. Rudyard dove into the water to pursue them. They could hide in the bushes
on this side. He didn’t have the dog with him.

The sounds ceased, as if someone were standing still to listen. James stopped too,
but she pushed him on with an impatient hand.

The water gurgled around them.

The crackling sounds began again, hurrying away.

The darkness around Dicey lifted, as if a blanket had been taken off her head. There
was no actual change, of course. Only, the night seemed cool and empty, and the clear
dark silhouettes of bushes and trees above them seemed to move back to give her more
room, and the broad river seemed to float peacefully beside them.

They kept silence for another half hour, working their way downriver. At last, Dicey
spoke. “Let’s get out—James? Can you lift Sammy? Sammy? Do you mind being first?”

“’Course not,” Sammy said.

James hoisted the little boy up onto the bank. Sammy reached down to help Maybeth
scramble up. Dicey pushed James from behind, and he turned around to pull her up,
while her feet slipped against the muddy bank, searching for firm holds. They sat,
huddling together, shivering but not from a chill.

Dicey turned to look behind them, where flat farmlands stretched off. No windows shone,
but she could see a pair of headlights, far off, moving on a straight line. There
must be a road.

“Not him,” Dicey said. She kept her voice low. Danger lurked all around them, always,
she knew that now. “It couldn’t be him. There aren’t but two bridges over the river
and they’re miles away.”

“What about the dog?” Sammy asked.

“Dogs can’t track through water,” James said.

Dicey remembered the dog, snuffling at the ground for their scents. Then she began
to giggle. “It was eating the biscuits!” she cried. “He couldn’t get it to chase us
because it was hungry. Doesn’t that serve him right.”

This set them all giggling, even Maybeth. They kept their laughter low, and after
a while they lay back on the grassy bank and slept, close together.

A
t the first signs of dawn, the first pink glimmers, the first watery bird songs, Dicey
opened her eyes. She lay on her back with James on one side and Maybeth curled against
the other and Sammy on his belly beside James. Her eyes looked up through the delicate
leaves of trees into a depthless sky. She smiled, and her eyes closed.

Later, when they opened again, the sun was fully risen. Faint voices floated to her
across the fields that lay behind them. James had rolled away from her. The sky had
blued above her. Dicey sat up.

The Choptank danced at her feet, deep and clear. It looked cleaner than any water
she had seen. Grasses grew up its banks, and a musical silence stirred in its depths.
She followed its path with her eyes to where it wound out of sight, going west.