Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows (20 page)

“I want you to know what it's like. I want to know what it's like."

“Dudette, I can't do this. I love you."

“If you love me you'll beat my ass until the blood trickles down my thighs."

He stared at the beautiful bottom he had kissed and caressed so often. Slowly he began to remove his belt.

“Mommy,” Junior said as he came through the kitchen door rubbing his eyes. “I want a glass of water."

“What's gold?” Junior asked.

“It's a pretty yellow metal that people make jewelry out of, like this chain I wear around my neck,” Maggie answered as she steered the golf cart with one hand and pulled the necklace from inside her cutoff flannel shirt.

“I wish I had a gold necklace,” Junior said.

“Boys don't wear necklaces, Junior,” Greta said with a chuckle.

“My daddy wears one,” Junior argued.

“He has you there, Greta,” Maggie said. “These days I'll bet as many men as women wear gold chains around their necks."

“Yeah?” Greta asked. “Eddie don't wear one and I reckon I just haven't noticed."

“Are we going to find gold necklaces in the creek?” Junior asked.

“No, Junior. The way God made things, gold is usually a part of another kind of rock. We're looking for rocks with streaks of gold in them. These rocks are called nuggets,” Maggie explained.

“You have to get the gold out of the nuggets to make a necklace?"

“That's right."

“How do you do that?"

Maggie glanced at Greta who shrugged her shoulders. “That's something we haven't studied yet, Junior. We thought we'd see if we can find any gold nuggets before worrying about that."

“Do creeks make gold?"

“No. I'm not sure exactly what processes create gold, but it's usually in hillsides and mountains. When it rains hard, sometimes little pieces of gold nuggets wash into a creek and tumble in the current downstream. Eventually they settle to the bottom of the creek. That's what we are going to try to find."

“Are we going to dig them up with the shovel you brought?"

“Maybe."

“What are the dish pans for?"

“We'll show you in a few minutes,” Maggie said.

“I gotta go to the bathroom."

“Uh oh,” Greta said. “Number one or number two?"

“Huh?"

“Do you have to pee-pee?” Greta tried again.

“I need to urinate."

Both girls laughed. “Well, this looks like as good a place as any,” Maggie said as she stopped the cart next to a sharp bend in the creek. “Can you do it by yourself?"

“Do what?"

“Uh, urinate."

“There's no bathroom out here, silly."

Greta hugged the boy. “What you do is go behind one of those trees, push down your bathing suit and aim at the ground."

“Really?"

“Sure."

“Show me."

Greta shook her head as she laughed. “You trust me on this one, Junior. Go try it. If you need help, holler. Maggie will come help you."

Junior jumped out of the cart and headed for the trees.

“We may as well unload everything,” Maggie said.

“You're going to pan for gold here?” Greta asked. “I can still see the Dollars’ house."

“We haven't come very far, but see that large boulder in the creek right where it bends sharply towards us? There's a lot of silt behind it. Let's give it a try."

“Junior,” Greta called out. “Is everything coming out okay?"

The sound of giggles emerged from behind the tree just before Junior reappeared. “Yep,” he said, still laughing. “It all came out okay."

Maggie and Greta shrugged out of their jeans and removed their shirts. Both were wearing one piece bathing suits. “Get your shoes off, Junior. It's time to go wading,” Greta said as she splashed into the crystal clear cold water.

When they reached the sandbar behind the large rock, Maggie said, “Junior, watch what Greta and I do, and then you can pan for gold too."

Maggie pushed the shovel deep into the silt, placed half of the shovel full in Greta's pan and the other half in her own. She propped the shovel against the rock and lowered her pan beneath the water. She kneaded the silt with both hands, breaking up clumps and causing the clay content to wash out of the pan. She picked out the larger sized rocks, examined and discarded them. She dipped the pan beneath the water once more and shook it from side to side. “This is supposed to make the gold settle to the bottom of the pan,” she explained to Junior.

Maggie tilted the pan forward and raised it out of the water quickly, causing most of the debris to wash off. She repeated the process until there was just a small amount of material in the bottom of the pan. She swirled the little remaining water and suddenly tilted the pan towards her. “See, Junior. If there is any gold in the dirt I was working with, it will be in the few grains of sand left in the pan."

“I don't see any gold,” Junior said.

“Me either,” Maggie agreed with a sigh. “Run your finger through the sand and see if you can find anything that is the same color as my necklace."

Junior moved his index finger back and forth in the teaspoon of tiny pebbles. “There's something,” he said.

“Mercy,” Maggie said. “I believe you've just found gold.” She removed a tweezers from their bucket and gently lifted the apple seed sized object.

“Gold,” Greta said reverently.

“Junior, get me the empty baby food jar out of the bucket,” Maggie said excitedly.

He picked it up and struggled to get the top off. With a triumphant look on his face, he held out the topless jar and Maggie dropped the little piece of gold into it. He carefully examined the jar's content. “I don't see anything but gold,” he said. “I thought you said it would always be in another kind of rock."

“It usually is, Junior,” Greta said, “but sometimes all the other rock has worn away, just leaving the gold."

“It's pretty,” Junior said. “Fill my pan up, Maggie,” he said as he put the jar back in the bucket. “Let's find some more gold."

Maggie scooped up another shovel full of silt, shook some out in Greta's pan, some in her own pan and bent over to deposit the remainder in the pan Junior held in his hands. The added weight caught Junior off guard. He stumbled, dropped the pan and clutched the top of Maggie's bathing suit as he fell backwards. She dropped the shovel and fell forward, bracing her hands against the creek bed to avoid crushing him.

“You okay?” she asked with a hint of panic in her voice.

He did not answer immediately. His grasp yanked the top of Maggie's suit down and he stared at her breasts, glistening with tiny beads of creek water. Tentatively he touched her left breast. “You're bigger than mommy,” he said at last.

Greta thought, No wonder Eddie wants to screw her.

“Women come in all sizes,” Maggie laughed as she covered her nakedness and helped Junior to his feet.

Soon the trio was sifting through load after load of silt, but after an hour, they found no more gold.

“My arms hurt,” Junior said. “Let's play hide."

Maggie laughed. “My arms hurt too, Junior, but we are playing ‘pan for gold’ today. Why don't you go sit on the bank and rest a little."

“I'll do one more pan,” he said.

Maggie dug deep into the silt and divided the contents of the shovel. Junior knelt in the water and kneaded the silt in his bucket. “I got a big old rock this time,” he said. He picked up the walnut sized stone and started to toss it away, but suddenly stopped. He washed the rock in the water and looked at it. “It's a pretty rock,” he noted. “Greta, look at this. Is that little yellow line gold?"

Greta looked at the rock. “Maggie, look at this."

Maggie held the rock in her hand. “Give me the hammer, Junior."

He pulled a small hammer from the bucket and Maggie gave the rock a sharp blow. One side of the stone fell away, revealing a finger width strand of shining gold."

Leora jabbed Borders in the ribs. He snorted, sat up and whispered, “I wasn't asleep. I was just resting my eyes."

“You were snoring, you old goat. Listen, I just figured it out."

He leaned towards her and placed his lips close to her ear. “I wasn't the only one not paying attention to the sermon. What did you figure out?"

“You remember the picture of John Baxter I received from the seminary yesterday?"

He nodded.

“I told you the man looked familiar."

“Keep your voice down,” he admonished. “People are looking at us. Who does he remind you of?"

“That cook at the Korner Kafe. What's his name—uh, Crow."

Borders smiled, shook his head and patted her on the knee.

While the congregation sang the invitation hymn she said, “It's the beard. Take off the beard and a little of the fat and Baxter is Crow."

“Yes, dear,” he patronized her.

“Old goat,” she muttered.

As soon as the choir finished singing the choral amen, George Bennett rushed to the dressing room, took off his robe and put on his suit jacket. He hurried back to the sanctuary but Dottie was not among the groups of people who lingered to chat after the service.

Smiling and nodding to various people he made his way to the exit, but found it blocked by the preacher. “Fine sermon, Mack,” he said.

“Did you like my story about the two goats and a crocodile?” Mack asked.

George jerked his eyes back from the parking lot. “I ... I don't remember you telling that story, Mack."

The preacher slapped him on the back and laughed heartily. “Just kidding, George. Somebody in the choir was snoring this morning and I was checking to see if it was you. There was no goat and crocodile story."

George smiled feebly. “I was trying to catch Mrs. Frank before she got away,” he explained.

“Afraid you missed her, George. She was the first one out the door."

George drove directly to Dottie's house and rang the bell.

“To what do I owe the horror of this visit?” Dottie said sarcastically when she opened the door.

“Dottie, we need to talk."

“Not now, George. I have a splitting headache."

“Have you taken anything?"

“Sandy Dollar's cure-all, but it hasn't had time to work yet."

“Dottie, please let me come in. I have a surefire remedy for a headache, if you actually have one."

“Come in, damn it,” she said stepping aside. “I do have a headache. The only time I use that as an excuse is when I am trying to avoid having sex, and there's no way in hell I will ever need that excuse with you."

“I appreciate the compliment,” he said and he strolled into the living room as if he owned the place.

“A compliment?"

“Yeah. You must think I'm one hot daddy if you believe you'll never have to turn down an offer of sex from me."

“You old bastard. Get out!"

He sat on the sofa and patted the seat beside him. “Come sit down and put your head in my lap."

“There's no way in hell."

“Do you want to get rid of the headache?"

She looked at his smiling face a moment and finally stretched out on the sofa with her head on his thighs. “One false move, George Bennett,” she warned, “and I'll squeeze your balls so tight you'll be singing soprano in the choir for the rest of your life."

“Promises, promises,” he joked as he slowly ran his thumb from her hairline down to the bridge of her nose. “Try to relax,” he said as he reversed the action. “I don't know much about the nervous system, but I'm told there are two nerves that run close together between the eyes. This kind of massage separates those nerves and the headache is supposed to disappear."

He continued the motion with his right hand and firmly massaged her left temple with his other hand. After a few minutes he switched hands and worked his magic on her right temple.

He watched her breasts rise and fall and hoped she could not feel his erection. She lay very still with her eyes closed.

“Better?” he whispered.

She kept her eyes closed and smiled as she nodded. He cradled her head in his hands, eased out from under her and slipped a sofa pillow under her head. He knelt beside her and kissed her hand.

“I'll let myself out."

“I thought you wanted to talk with me about something."

“You know what I want to talk about. May I call you later?"

“It won't do you any good,” she said softly. “Billy's a grown man with responsibilities. He's made his decision to join forces with you. That's his business. I'm too old to change. Now that you've ended the price war, Dot's Diner is again making a little profit. I haven't thanked you for that kindness, have I?"

George ignored her question as he absently held her hand and gently rubbed her open palm. “Would you try it for a week or two? No formal agreement—just try it?"

“Don't you ever think about anything but business?” she asked dreamily.

“Yes,” he said as he sprang to his feet, “but I have no desire to become a soprano.” He gently kissed her closed lips and departed.

I haven't diddled myself in decades, she thought. I wonder if I still remember how?

“Now take a good look at this, Borders. Tell me it doesn't look like Eddie Crow,” Leora demanded as she shoved the black and white glossy towards her husband.

Borders studied the photograph patiently. “I'm sorry, Leora. I just don't see it."

“You're blind as a bat, old man."

“Maybe. Or maybe I'm just not as imaginative as you are."

“I still say that Baxter and Crow are one and the same."

“If it will put your mind to rest, I'll take your photograph to the crime lab tomorrow. I think they can add a beard. Would that make you happy?"

“Add a little weight, too."

Borders nodded. “It just doesn't make any sense, Leora. Why would preacher Baxter come back to Dot as a cook, complete with an alias and disguise?"

“I don't know, but if they are one and the same I'll bet my false teeth that Sandra Dollar has the answer to that question. She's hiding something, Borders."

“Now you leave Sandra Dollar out of this. You've harassed that woman enough, Leora."

There was a knock on the bedroom door. “Lunch is ready,” Jo Nickels announced.