Dorothy Garlock - [Route 66] (5 page)

All the Lukers except Sugar piled out of the car and stood beside the road. Mona walked back down the road, then toward the woods. Jody called to her, but she kept going. Grace commented on it when she and Margie took their turn in the woods.

“There seems to be bad feelings between the girl and Mrs. Luker.”

“I noticed that. Jody takes up for his sister. It must be hard for both of them. I wonder how long since they lost their mother.”

“Foley said two years. He married this one a few months ago.”

When they were out of sight, Margie handed Grace a square of newspaper that she had softened by crushing and rubbing. She smiled at the woman’s quizzical look.

“It’s better than nothing. My granny taught me how to do that. She used to cut the paper in squares, crush and rub it to soften it, fold it and put it in the outhouse. It works with pages from a catalog if it’s not slick paper.”

Grace laughed. “Wait until I tell Alvin and Rusty—”

“Don’t you dare! If you do, I’ll not be able to face either one of them.”

“I was funnin’ you.”

Later Grace clicked her tongue when she saw Mona Luker coming up the road. “I’d of give a pretty penny to have a girl, but the good Lord didn’t see fit to give us one. He must have figured he gave us the best he had when he gave us Rusty, and saved the girl for someone else.”

“What a sweet thing to say. Rusty is lucky the Lord gave him to you.”

Grace laughed. “We’d of loved him if he’d been dumb as a pile of rocks.”

Jody Luker was talking to Rusty, who leaned against the side of the Putman truck, Blackie beside him. The hood of the Luker car was up, and Alvin, Foley and Elmer were huddled around it. Alvin went to his truck, returned with a bucket of water and poured it into the radiator.

Margie climbed into Elmer’s truck and made sandwiches from the bacon and eggs she had cooked that morning. She took her sandwich, along with a fruit jar of water, and went to sit on the grass beside the road, leaving Elmer’s meal on the tailgate. She wasn’t in a mood to talk and was glad Grace was busy making the noon meal for her family.

When Jody passed on his way back to the Luker car, Margie smiled and lifted a hand in greeting. Sugar Luker, who was sitting in the car, said something to him as he came even with it. He didn’t pause or answer, but continued on to where his sister was at the back of the trailer.

Was Foley Luker so blind that he couldn’t see how unhappy his wife was making his children? Or was he so fascinated with his Sugar that he didn’t care?

Margie’s mind was still in a turmoil over the conversation she’d had with her father. She had opened a dialogue with her questions and was determined to know why he considered her mother a whore.

When it came time to pull out again, they fell in behind the Putmans. The highway was smooth. Margie waited until after Elmer had lit his pipe before she spoke.

“I want to know why you called my mother a whore.”

He was silent for a moment, then said, “You don’t want to know.”

“I do,” she replied staunchly. “Do you think that I’m not your daughter? Is that the reason you have ignored me all these years and why you can’t bring yourself to introduce me to your friends?”

“Drop it, girl. What’s done is done. No sense dragging up the past.”

“I can’t drop something as important as this is to me. All my life I’ve wondered why you didn’t like me. I turned myself inside out trying to please you and get you to notice me. I
wanted
a father.”

“No fault of mine. I provided for you till you were grown. I gave the old woman money every month.”

“Why did you say my mother was a whore?” she insisted. “Why do you have such a low opinion of me? Tell me.”

“Goddammit!” he shouted. “Let it go or I’ll pull over and put you out.”

Margie burst into tears. She cried softly for miles. When the scalding tears abated, she wiped her eyes on the hem of her dress and rested her head against the back of the seat. One thought sustained her: She was on her way to California and Hollywood. Tonight she would get out her movie magazines. Looking through them always gave her something new to dream about. As far as Elmer was concerned, she vowed not to say another word to him until they reached California. And that word would be “good-bye.”

Margie was staring out the window when they reached Miami, Oklahoma. They passed the Coleman Theater, said to be one of the most beautiful theaters in the Southwest. She had heard that Will Rogers and many other famous people had made appearances there. No wonder Miami was proud of its theater.

On leaving Miami they were again on a rough gravel road that went on for mile after mile. They crossed the Neosho River and passed through endless prairie land. About the time that Margie was sure her rear was numb, they followed the Putmans off the highway and into a cleared area where a vehicle was parked and a saddled buckskin horse, its reins trailing, grazed on the early summer grass. Two men stood beside a big black car with a carrier rack, and a little girl jumped rope nearby.

One of the men went to speak to the Putmans, then waited for Elmer to move forward.

“Howdy,” the man said to Elmer, then tipped his hat to Margie. “Ma’am.” He was young and dark-haired, with an obvious Indian heritage. “This is my land, but you’re welcome to camp here. Be careful with your fire. A grass fire could easily spread to the hay crop I have just through that thin patch of woods.”

“I’ll watch the fire.”

As they passed the car with the carrier rack on top, Margie glanced at the other man leaning against it, his arms folded across his chest. He was tall, big-framed and lean. All she could see of his face beneath the pulled-down, big-brimmed hat was his firm, unsmiling mouth. After they had passed him, she realized that he wore an air of authority. Was he a lawman?

Elmer stopped the truck near a circle of rocks that held the remains of previous fires, leaving a space of a couple hundred feet between their camp and the Putmans’.

Margie felt wrung out. She wanted to hurry and get supper over with. She had decided that she would ask Rusty to go for a walk with her.

Let Elmer make something of that.

She quickly set out the box with the washdish, soap and towel. Elmer came out of the woods with an armload of dead wood and built the cook fire.

When the fire was going, he left to speak to Foley Luker, who had driven into the campground. The radiator on the Luker car was steaming. Margie was climbing out of the truck with potatoes to peel when the man who had greeted them when they drove in approached with a large fish hanging from a stringer.

“Ma’am, could you use a catfish? I caught more than I can use.” He had tipped his hat back, and she could see a few silver streaks in his hair.

“We sure could. There’s nothing better than fried catfish.”

“Rolled in cornmeal?” He smiled, creases appearing on each side of his wide mouth.

“Absolutely!” Margie returned the smile.

While he was removing the fish from the string, it began to flop. Margie let out a little squeal of alarm.

“I’ll whack him on the head for you, ma’am. Your man will have to skin him for you.”

“My father,” Margie corrected.

“On second thought, if you have something I can lay him on, I can skin him for you in half a minute.”

“Half a minute,” she echoed teasingly. “Now, that, I’ll have to see.” She removed the washdish from the box. “Mister, will this do?”

“Name’s Payne, ma’am.”

He circled the head of the fish with a sharp knife, then with the pliers he took from his pocket, he pulled off the skin. It took a little longer than half a minute, but there was no wasted motion. It was as if he had done it a million times before.

“It’s good of you to let us camp here.”

“My pleasure. I enjoy the chance to meet folks. Most of them are good people.” He quickly sliced the fish down one side and then the other. After laying aside slabs of boneless fish, he tossed the long spiny bone into the campfire.

“Thank you. I’ll get water so you can wash your hands.” Margie ladled water into the washdish from the water keg and set it on the tailgate. “You’re welcome to stay and eat with us.”

“Thanks, but my friend over there”—he jerked his head toward the big heavy car with the rack on the top—“is frying up a batch.”

“Thank you, Mr. Payne, for the fish and for allowing us to camp here.”

“You’re welcome.”

While the fish fried, Margie mixed a batch of corn bread to cook like pancakes on the griddle. She didn’t know what Elmer liked to eat and she didn’t care. If he didn’t like the fish and corn bread, he could go eat with Sugar, she thought spitefully.

While she was bending over the cook fire, Jody Luker stopped by. “The fish smells good. Mona’s cooking ours.”

“Can’t Sugar cook?”

“Not much.” Jody didn’t seem to notice the sarcasm in her voice. “I just never thought I’d meet Andy Payne. He’s shook hands with the president and everythin’.”

“This Mr. Payne? The one who let us camp here and gave us the fish?”

“Haven’t you heard of him? Pa said he lived around here. He’s the one who won the Bunion Derby. He ran from Los Angeles to New York and beat out over two hundred other runners to win.”

“He
ran
from Los Angeles to New York? I can’t believe it.”

“He did. Back in 1928.”

“I’ve never heard the like.”

“Pa said they called the race the International Transcontinental Foot Marathon, but that’s such a tongue twister it was just called the Bunion Derby. The race was thirty-four hundred miles long.”

“And this Mr. Payne won it? Well, whatta ya know!”

“He’s Cherokee. Pa said running is in their blood. I don’t know if that had anything to do with him winning, but he did, and got money enough to buy his ranch. It’s about a half mile from here. He said he came down to spend the day fishing with his friend, who is passing through.”

“He certainly knows how to clean fish. I’ll give him that.”

Elmer had no complaints about the meal. He said nothing. Not even about the man who had so generously given them the fish—cleaned and boned. When Margie sat down to eat, he appeared and filled his plate and moved away. When he finished eating, he set his plate on the tailgate of the truck, sank down in the canvas chair and lit his pipe.

Margie wrapped the leftover fish and corn bread in waxed bread wrappers, then washed the dishes. When she finished, she filled the washdish with warm water and took it to the truck. She lit the lantern and brought down the end flap for privacy. The emotional confrontation with her father had worn her out. She would like nothing better than to go straight to bed, but she felt too dirty for that. After washing herself from head to toe, she put her clothes back on. She had worn them for two days and decided she would wear them one more day. She had three skirts and three blouses that she thought were suitable for travel. Her one dress and another skirt and blouse would be kept in reserve should she need to dress up.

She debated about staying in the truck with the lantern and thumbing through her movie magazines. That usually soothed her, but it was too hot in the truck with the end flap down. Besides, Elmer might complain about the use of the kerosene. She would reserve that pleasure for another time.

Elmer was not in sight when she rolled up the end flap and got out of the truck. The day was near an end. Only a few faint streaks showed in the western sky. A few lightning bugs flitted about.

“My ball is under your car.” The voice came from a little girl who stood with her shoulders hunched up to her ears as if trying to hide.

“Hello. You lost your ball? Which end of the truck is it under?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll take a look.” Margie got down on her hands and knees and peered under the truck. “Is it a white ball?”

“It’s red.”

“Red? Ah … that’ll make it harder to see in the dark. Hallelujah! There it is.” Margie lay flat on the ground and scooted under the truck until she reached the small rubber ball. “I’ve got it,” she called, and began to wiggle her way out.

There was no way she could keep her skirt from moving up to her thighs as she wiggled out from under the truck. When her head cleared the running board, she turned to sit up and her eyes collided with those of the man squatting down holding a lantern. She had never seen such incredible eyes: light green, like leaves in the early spring, cool and secret and surrounded with thick dark lashes.

“Oh … oh—” Still holding the ball, Margie grabbed to pull her skirt down to her knees. “Here’s your ball,” she said, and shoved it into the child’s hands.

“Thank you.”

Margie rolled over onto her knees to get up and felt the man’s hand on her arm to help her. She was hoisted to her feet by hands strong enough to toss her across the truck. Hot with embarrassment, she swiped at her skirt to rid it of the dried grass and looked at the child standing beside the tall man. Her eyes were green like his; her dark hair was parted in the middle, and two fat braids rested on her chest.

Finally there was nothing to do but look up at the man again, her composure completely disrupted, the telltale color of embarrassment on her cheeks.

Chapter 4

S
HE LIFTED HER EYELIDS, AND SOMETHING
about her pulled at him. There was sadness in her eyes as well as intelligence and maturity. Beneath her fragile exterior were strength and determination. He didn’t know how he knew this, but he did. The large light brown eyes, flicked with amber; reminded him of the eyes of a doe who was alert and a little bit afraid.

He was not, as a rule, shy around women, but he remained quiet, hoping his nerves would settle down before he had to speak to her.

He swept the wide-brimmed hat from his head, revealing hair as black as midnight. It was thick, shiny, straight as a string, and covered the tips of his ears. He credited his reaction to her to the fact he’d not been around a pretty girl on a one-to-one basis for several months. Relieved to come to that conclusion, he continued to look at the girl who now had a bit of hostility in her expression.