Dirt Road Home Page 15

  “I want my lawyer,” Jack said.

  “Oh, you’ll get him. We’re gonna let you share a cell with him. Seems he’s in a bit of trouble himself over blackmailin’ a public official.”

  Jack swallowed and looked around like he might find someone to help him. But no one made a move.

  “I want my dad!”

  “He’ll be there too. You’ll be right at home.”

  A policeman walked up to Jack and grabbed him and took him away.

  After Jack was gone, Officer Pete faced us again. “It’s gonna take my people a while to get to the bottom of exactly what’s been goin’ on in here. Regardless of what we find, I imagine the entire staff will be replaced. Until that time, we go by my rules. And I’ll tell you right now, violence of any sort will not be tolerated by me or any of my officers.”

  Officer Pete waved his hand in the air toward the building. “Now, I want everyone except Hal Mitchell to report to the mess hall. And I want you to sit at the tables in the order of your shirt numbers.”

  I turned to Paco, but he already knew what I was thinking.

  “Find Caboose,” he said.

  I took a deep breath and nodded.

  Paco and the boys stood and Officer Pete’s policemen escorted them out of the play yard. I turned to Mr. Wellington. “Where’s Daddy?”

  “He’s out there waiting on you. You ready to go home?”

  “I never been so ready to go anywhere in my life. Get me out of here.”

  38

  Mr. Wellington and I stopped at the front office. It was quiet and empty of everyone except for Officer Pete. He was going through the filing cabinets, looking for more information about what had been happening at Hellenweiler. When Mr. Wellington asked about my jacket and release forms he shook his head and kept flipping through the files. He said he didn’t know where everything was yet and didn’t have time to worry about details. He’d bring by anything we needed later.

  “Thanks, Officer Pete,” I said.

  He stopped what he was doing and looked over at me. “No problem, kid . . . I don’t wanna see you again.”

  “Nossir,” I said.

  “Go on. Get outta here.”

  We walked out the front gate of Hellenweiler and the world opened up in front of me. I breathed deep and pulled in the faint smell of the pines over the asphalt parking lot. “Almost there, Paco,” I said to myself.

  I saw Daddy leaning against the truck, cleaning his fingernails with a pocketknife. He looked up and a stupid grin spread across his face. I ran to him and let him wrap his big arms around me.

  “What took you so long?” I said.

  He beat my back a couple of times with his fist. “You all right?”

  “Yeah. Now I am.”

  Mr. Wellington caught up with us and waited patiently. After a while I pulled away and leaned against the tailgate and faced them.

  “I just can’t believe I’m really out of there,” I said.

  “It took some time to get the right people involved,” Mr. Wellington replied. “It was quite an accusation. I imagine this might make national news. Judge Mackin threw out your conduct report and he’ll probably throw out a bunch more before it’s all over with.”

  “Long as Mr. Fraley does jail time, I’m good,” I replied. “Stick him in solitary and see how he likes it.”

  “Well, that’s not gonna be my call, Hal. My objective was to get you home again. Now that that’s done, I’m really retired. So you better stay out of trouble,” he joked.

  We all shook hands and Mr. Wellington turned to go. I went around to the passenger side of the truck and got in. I sank into the seat and slammed the door. I breathed in the tobacco and diesel smell of it and rubbed my hand on the armrest. Daddy got in and cranked it.

  “You don’t know how bad I missed this old truck.”

  “Let’s get you back and you can dog her out in the clay pit a little bit. How’s that sound?”

  “Sounds good. But I can’t go home yet. As much as I want all this to be over, it’s not.”

  “What are you talkin’ about?”

  “We gotta go to the junkyard. A friend of mine got out this mornin’ and I think he’s gonna be there. He’s pretty messed up in his head. I gotta see him and let him know everything’s okay. Make sure he don’t do anything stupid.”

  * * *

  It was dusk when we pulled off the blacktop before the junkyard. The smell of the pines came strong and thick as turpentine. I told Daddy to wait in the truck for me while I walked back to the house. Then I set out down the dirt road amid the cicadas thrumming in the night air. There was no moon out, but the stars were bright overhead. It had been a while since I’d seen a sky that wasn’t flooded with fake city light. It felt healthy to the eyes.

  The junk cars lay in darkness on either side of me like sleeping beasts in beds of overgrown field grass. I’d never been there at night, but I was more at home in that twenty-acre graveyard than just about anywhere. Back when I’d lived with Daddy I’d walked all the foot-pressed paths between their rusted-out hulks, searching their bowels for still-greased, shiny parts that would fix or improve our truck and equipment at the clay pit. It was the kind of place that made me feel like my life was right.

  I came to the end of the road and saw the outline of the frame house to my left. I’d been inside it before. It was nothing more than a small front porch, one bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom. The windows were all broken out and the interior had been picked through and vandalized long before I’d first seen the place. A whip-poor-will called from deep inside the forest, but the building was dark and silent. Too silent. Somehow I knew he was in there.

  “Caboose?” I said.

  No answer.

  I went closer to the house, careful to step around the junk parts lying in the grass. It seemed hundreds of mechanical projects had been started and abandoned in the front yard.

  “Caboose?” I called again.

  Still nothing. The whip-poor-will sounded once more. “You know, we ain’t at Hellenweiler now.”

  I heard something move inside. The front door creaked open and I saw a big body silhouetted against the darkness. I froze as fear darted up my spine. “That better be you, Caboose.”

  He didn’t move.

  “You better say somethin’ before I throw one of these car parts at you. Makin’ me nervous up there like that.”

  “Maybe I’m seein’ things,” he said.

  I let out my breath. “Man, what’s wrong with you, you big spook? I said we’d do it, didn’t I?”

  No answer.

  “You don’t even have electricity out here?”

  He stepped onto the porch and moved sideways. He sat in a creaky rocking chair against the wall. “We used to,” he said.

  I went up the steps and leaned against one of the columns across from him. “They busted that place wide open. Mr. Fraley’s done.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “What you been doin’ out here?” I asked him.

  “Lookin’ for things I remember.”

  “Like what?”

  He studied me for a moment. “I had some baseball cards,” he finally said. “And a rock polisher.”

  “You gotta be kiddin’ me. People been breakin’ the windows out of this place and stealin’ from it for years.”

  “I got nothin’. I got nobody.”

  I stood up. “You got somebody. And you ain’t stayin’ here tonight. There’s a bed at my place you can use until you get straight.”

  Caboose shook his head.

  “You ain’t findin’ nothin’ tonight, Caboose. You come stay at the clay pit until we get this place cleaned up. Daddy’s waitin’ on us.”

  I turned and stepped off the porch. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Caboose stood slowly and followed. “I’ll walk with you to the road,” he said.

  “The hell. We’re done with all that state home business and everything before it. We got
a clean jacket, Caboose. Got stars and trees and night sounds.”

  “Got nothin’.”

  “Keep walkin’. I ain’t leavin’ without you. Stupid rock polisher.”

  Caboose tailed me across the yard and we turned and started up the dirt road again. “I’ve been thinkin’. I could find enough parts in this place to make us a race car for the dirt track. And you could use it until I’m old enough for a license. What you think about that?”

  Caboose didn’t say anything.

  “But that’s long-term. Tomorrow we can go down to my uncle Tom’s lake and stretch the trotline. And my girlfriend’s got a big sister you might like to take out.”

  Caboose grunted.

  “Serious, man. She’s good-lookin’ too. You saw her across that field.”

  “How’s Paco?” he asked.

  “He’s fine. And he’ll be a lot better when he knows you ain’t gonna go off and do anything crazy.”

  “He was right about you,” he said.

  “Whatever. Between all his funny talk and your no talk, I can’t believe we got anything done.”

  Daddy was surprised when I walked up with Caboose, but he’s never been one to turn anybody out. I introduced him and they shook hands while Daddy’s eyes sized him up.

  “Caboose needs a place to stay,” I said.

  “Well, squeeze in here. We got room.”

  Caboose eyed me.

  “Get in,” I said.

  39

  Even though it was dark, I could tell something was different about the clay pit. As the house trailer came into view under the utility light, I saw that all of the old washing machines and refrigerators and broken cars had been hauled away.

  “Place looks clean, Daddy.”

  “I told you about havin’ the fidgets since I stopped drinkin’. I can hardly sit still.”

  “Where’d you put it all?”

  “I dug a big hole out there with the front-end loader and buried it.”

  “Well, that’s good.”

  “Wait’ll you see what else,” he said.

  We pulled closer and our headlights lit up the yard. What used to be red clay mud was now a square of freshly mown lawn.

  “You even planted some grass!”

  Daddy spit out the window. “Well, you know.”

  Our two bloodhounds came running up the hill from the shop and leaped at the truck and bawled and scraped at the door with their toenails.

  “Hey, Snapper!” I yelled. “Hey, Sawbone!”

  We pulled to a stop and I nudged Caboose. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

  “They gonna bite me?”

  “They ain’t gonna bite. Go on.”

  After we got out, Daddy took the truck down to the shop where he had to put the front-end loader up. Caboose stood over me and watched while I rolled around with the dogs. After a minute I managed to stand and fend them off.

  “Go on inside, Caboose! I’m gonna have to make a run for it!”

  I watched him go into the trailer, then I started running for the shop. When the bloodhounds bolted past me, I spun around and made a dash for the trailer. It didn’t take them but a second to figure they’d been faked out. I just made it inside before they crashed into the door, and I saw their faces bouncing up outside the window.

  I showed Caboose my room. I had two mattresses on the floor and pointed out the one he could sleep on. “We’ll throw you a new sheet on there. Nobody even uses it anymore except the dogs. Daddy’ll make ’em stay outside again now that I’m back. I’ll be sleepin’ right there next to you.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Caboose said.

  “Come on. I’ll take you down the hill and show you the shop.”

  “I think I’ll just lay here and go to sleep,” he said.

  “You sure? We haven’t even eaten.”

  “I’m sure. I’m tired, Hal. You go ahead.”

  “All right. But you ain’t takin’ your shoes off in there. I’ll go get a roller pan and put some gasoline in it and put it outside the front door. You soak your feet in that and it’ll get ’em all good.”

  “Thanks, Hal.”

  “No problem. You can use that blanket and sheet off my bed too. I’ll get another one in a little while.”

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t you go runnin’ off either. I’m gonna be lookin’ up here.”

  That night Daddy and I cooked hamburgers and talked late into the night while Caboose slept.

  “Your boss gonna get onto you about skippin’ out today?” I asked him.

  “He better not. I been puttin’ in eighty-hour weeks. You wait’ll you see those trucks lined up tomorrow.”

  “When’s he gonna get you some help?”

  “I hope soon.”

  “What about Caboose?” I said.

  “You think he can run a loader?”

  “You can teach him if he don’t.”

  “I need somebody I can count on,” Daddy said.

  “So does he.”

  The next morning I woke to the sound of dump trucks groaning and putting on their air brakes outside. I turned over and saw Caboose with his eyes open. “Feels good to wake up outside the fence, don’t it?” I said.

  Caboose nodded.

  “Daddy won’t need the truck today. You wanna go fishin’?”

  “I’ve got stuff to do.”

  “You ain’t gotta do nothin’. We’ll go out to Uncle Tom’s lake and catch some bream. Then you can drive me to Carla’s school so I can see her.”

  Caboose studied his feet.

  “They smell better now, don’t they?”

  “They smell like gas and they burn and itch.”

  “That’s good. Killin’ all that stuff.”

  Caboose drove us into town. We bought sandwich meat, bread, and worms at the gas station and then headed for Uncle Tom’s lake.

  “What you think about my truck?”

  “It drives good.”

  “It’ll get a gear, won’t it?”

  “It’s a good truck.”

  “All the pieces I got out of your salvage yard, so you prob’ly own half of it.”

  Caboose looked sideways at me.

  “Well, nobody was there,” I said.

  I waited for him to smile, but he didn’t.

  “Come on, now. I know you feel better today. What are you thinkin’ about?”

  “How long it’s gonna take to clean up that house. I got a lot to do. Maybe I don’t need to go fishin’.”

  “What if you let Daddy teach you how to drive the loader? Bet you could scrape that yard clean in about five minutes. Push all that stuff out your front door, dig a hole, and bury it.”

  Caboose frowned.

  “You know I talked to him about givin’ you a job at the clay pit. He needs somebody else.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “Said he’d think about it. I’ll bet if you told him you were interested, he’d get you saddled up.”

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  * * *

  The lake was just as I remembered it. Except for the cypress trees being a little bigger, it hadn’t changed a bit. We spent the day bream fishing and napping in the shade. For once I was glad that Caboose didn’t say much. I didn’t have anything on my mind but Carla and fishing, and that’s all I wanted for a while.

  “You were right,” Caboose said. “It wasn’t a coin toss.”

  “Forget it, man. We’re not talkin’ about that place.”

  “He beat me at arm wrestling.”

  I turned to him. His eyes were still closed. “Hah! He out-muscled you!”

  Caboose frowned.

  “I can’t wait to ask him about that.”

  “I don’t mind tellin’ you now. It doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t care what they think about me.”

  I didn’t say anything. Caboose opened his eyes and stared at the treetops. I turned away and studied my cork.

  “You don’t have to be the same out here,” I said. �
��All that stuff behind us was just a bunch of things gone wrong.”

  We didn’t say anything for a while.

  Finally Caboose said, “I’m not as mad about it all as I was.”

  “You got other things to think about now. There wasn’t anything to do at Hellenweiler but be mad.”

  “I know what you’re tryin’ to do, Hal.”

  “Then you tell me what I wanna hear.”

  “I don’t know if I can forget what they did to Marty.”

  “I never asked you to forget. But you think about bein’ out here in a place like this the rest of your life while Mr. Fraley and the rest of those guards sit in a jail cell. That’s punishment, right there. And you did it to ’em. It don’t get any better than that. You let ’em sit in that prison and think about it.”

  “I never thought of it that way.”

  “I didn’t either until just then.”

  Caboose sat up and stared over the lake. “I think I’m gonna be okay,” he said.

  “Damn right you are.”

  Daddy had a little stick-up clock on the dash of the truck and it showed two-thirty when we started for Gainesville. Rhonda and Carla would be out of school in a half hour. I slid down in my seat and put my feet on the dash.

  “I hope we can find ’em,” I said.

  Caboose didn’t answer me.

  “I don’t wanna have to go to her house yet. Her daddy’s gonna wanna give me one of those talks. I hate that.”

  “We’ll find her,” Caboose said.

  We drove into the student parking lot five minutes before school let out. Caboose downshifted and drove slow while I searched for Rhonda’s car. All of the other cars and trucks looked new and shiny compared to what we were in.

  “This is another world, ain’t it?” I said.

  “What kind of car is it?”

  “Red Grand Am. The one that drove in the field that day . . . Where do these people get money for cars like this?”

  Caboose didn’t answer me.

  “It’s been so long since I’ve been to a real school . . .”

  I continued to scan the cars. Then I saw the Grand Am ahead of us. “Pull off right here,” I said. “I’ll walk over.”

  He looked at me.