Face the Winter Naked (23 page)

Chapter
17

Later
that morning, Homer Petrie climbed down from his truck and entered the auction barn.

"I
worked for that man," Daniel told Chris, "diggin' spuds and pickin'
apples. The real reason I was so mad for you stealing my money is because he
kept half my wages."

He
stopped talking and looked down at the boy.

"I
took my dander out on you—not that you're innocent, mind you. But if I'd thought
it out, I wouldn't have done it. I'm sorry."

Christopher
shrugged. "Served me right."

Daniel
nodded toward Homer. "Here he comes to this here auction to sell the hog I
rode in the back of his truck with. He shoulda rode back there hisself and let
the hog drive."

"Let's
go watch," Chris said. "Maybe you can get your money back, like I d—"
He stopped and looked at the ground, shuffled his bare feet in the dirt.

"Didn't
learn nothing yet, did you?"

"I
was hungry."

Daniel
slipped an arm around Chris's shoulder. "Lots of folks in the same boat
these days. The boat has a big hole in it, and it's sinking. Know what I
mean?"

"Yep."

"I've
been hungry myself."

I
stole corn from a field, milk from a cow, and a fresh warm egg from under a
hen. But some things are better left unsaid.

The
auctioneer's voice carried outside the building.

"Wow,
he's fast," Chris said. "I can't understand him."

"I
can't either. Come on, let's go. I don't have any desire to see Mr. Petrie when
he comes out patting his fat pockets. I wouldn't trust myself not to start
something."

"Where
we going?"

"I
don't know where you're going, but I'm heading north on the first freight I
see."

"I'll
come with you."

"No,
you can't," Daniel replied. "It's no life for a kid."

"Neither
is this one."

"You
need to go home to your family." Daniel studied the boy. "They
probably won't recognize you, filthy as you are."

"Told
you I don't
have
any family."

"Everybody's
got a family. Where do they live? C'mon, I'll walk you over there."

Chris's
large brown eyes bubbled. "They—they live a few miles that way."
Pointing west. "But I'm not going back. They don't want me." He
blinked, and tears glistened on his lashes.

"They
tell you that?"

"My
ol' man, he said leave and don't come back. He said they can't afford me anymore.
They don't have any money or nothing to eat."

Daniel
swore under his breath. He'd heard of people kicking their kids out to shift
for themselves.

He
started walking and Chris ran to catch up.

"I
won't be any trouble. Please, Daniel, take me with you."

"Just
what I need, a road kid tagging along." Daniel looked his young companion
in the eye. "You ever hop a freight?"

"No.
But I slept in a boxcar lots of times when the train was sitting on the tracks.
Just let me go, I'll keep out of the way, I promise." He indicated the
banjo and gunnysack. "I'll carry your stuff."

"You
willing to eat collard greens and dandelions?"

"Already
did. Raw ones."

Daniel
smiled. "Bitter as heck."

"Yep,
and gave me the runs." After a minute, Chris said, "Betcha I climb
trees better than you. I'll go up and get nuts and apples and pears for
us."

"And
prob'ly fall and bust your head open."

"Then
can I go?"

"I
should
say you can't, but I ain't got the heart. If you got no place
else to go, what else can I do?" They stopped walking again, and Daniel
looked the boy over carefully.

"What's
the matter?" Chris asked. "Why you looking at me like that?"

"I'm
thinking you need a good bath, a haircut, and shoes."

"Don't
have money for shoes. Don't have money for nothing, let alone shoes."

"Shoes
are nice when you have to do lots of walking," Daniel said. "I walk
most every place I can. Sometimes I hitch me a ride on a train. But you don't
find dandelions or berries or eggs on a train, so I have to get off sometimes
and walk."

"I
seen tramps jump off trains."

"Did
you also see the railroad bulls chasing 'em with their clubs?"

"Nope."

"Well,
it's a bigger danger than jumping out of a moving boxcar."

Before
nightfall, the pair walked a little way out of town and found a cattle trough
that didn't look too dirty with cow slobbers.

"Take
off your clothes," Daniel said. "Nobody around to see you naked, and
I've seen boys before."

"Why
should I?"

"Because
I say so. If you're coming with me, you're having a bath to get the bugs
off."

"I
don't have bugs."

"How
do you know?"

"I
just do. I ain't scratching. I'd know if I had any."

"You
might. But some bugs are sneaky little sonofaguns, so you're getting a bath
just in case."

He
reached in the gunnysack for the sliver of soap as Chris pulled off his shirt and
pants. He wore no underwear, but Daniel had an extra pair. They were holey and
too big, but a boy needs underwear.

He
helped Chris into the cold water as a couple of heifers leaned over the fence.

"I'm
freezing," Chris said. "You got soap?"

Daniel
handed him the bar. "Go easy, it's all I have." He looked at the cows
and smiled. "Hope you ladies don't mind drinking soapy water. Can't be
helped."

"I'm
getting warm now," Chris said.

"Wash
your hair good. Want me to soap it up?"

"I
can do it myself."

Chris
scrubbed his long hair with the bar of Lava, building up the suds. Then he
tossed the soap to Daniel and ducked his head under the water. He came up
sputtering and shaking his head like a dog. After a minute he climbed out of
the trough and stared at the cows.

"What
the heck they staring at? Guess they never seen a naked kid before."

Daniel
laughed. "Never seen one take a bath in their drinking water,
either." He found the extra underwear in his bag. "Here. You can wear
these. We'll just dunk your dirty clothes in the water and spread 'em on the
ground. They'll be dry by morning."

Chris
pulled on the shorts. "Got some rope? These are miles too big."

"Nope,
I don't. Wait, maybe I have something else."

He
reached in his bag and pulled out two banjo strings, twisted the ends together
with his pliers and tied the result around the boy's waist.

"There
ya go. They'll keep your pants up and play a tune while they're at it."
Daniel looked at his handiwork again. "I'll try to find something to wrap
around the wires so you won't get scratched."

Chris
rolled his eyes. "If you had something to wrap it with, I wouldn't need
the wires."

"True
enough."

Chris
grinned. "Guess you know how to do lots of stuff."

"When
a man's bumming around, he learns how to survive." Daniel unfastened one
of his overalls' straps. "See this here? I lost the buckle, so I found me
this big ol' cocklebur and stuck it on. Works just fine."

He
rinsed Chris's filthy pants and shirt in the trough, rung them out, and spread
them over the fence.

The
sun was slowly sinking in the west. Daniel sat with his companion for a while,
then stood.

"Can
you excuse me for a little bit? I have to go someplace."

"Where?"

"Have
to see a man. You wouldn't understand."

"Not
my ol' man, is it?"

"Someone
else."

"Okay."

"Watch
my things," Daniel said. "I trust you not to walk off with them, and
you won't if you know what's good for you."

Chris's
eyes drooped with sleep.

"I
won't be long," Daniel said. "Just stay right here where I can find
you." He grinned. "Hope I recognize you with the dirt off."

He
left the boy with the gunnysack and banjo and walked back uptown to St. Louis
Street. Millie's Diner was still open.

Glenn
recognized him and came over.

"Coffee?"

"Sounds
good." Daniel counted out some change and laid it on the counter. "I
found a stray kid, or he found me, I guess. About yay high." He held his
hand out to the side. "Dark hair, shaggy and long. Real dirty."

He
picked up his cup and drank. The coffee was too strong and tasted of chicory.

"Wonder
if you know him. He was hungry, so maybe he came by here." He waited
expectantly.

"That's
Chris Davis." Glenn untied his apron and folded it neatly.

"Know
where he lives?"

"Everybody
knows Chris."

"What
about his folks? He said they don't want him."

Glenn
laid the folded apron on the counter.

"Wouldn't
surprise me. Good for nothing scum, that bunch. Six more kids they don't want.
Probably another one on the way. Some folks don't know when to stop."

"Or
what causes them, either."

"Millie
and I fed Chris sometimes," Glenn said. "But I don't trust him. You
shouldn't, either. He'll steal everything you got."

Daniel
laughed. "He already tried that." He finished the coffee and chewed
some grounds from the bottom of the cup, then pushed the coins over, rose and
touched his brim. "Well, much obliged. I'll go see those folks in the
morning."

"I
wouldn't."

"Chris
wants to go north with me," Daniel said. "I'd feel like a kidnapper
if I didn't get permission. Getting picked up for kidnapping's all I need right
now. Besides, someone has to look out for him. He's too young to be on his own.
If nothing else, the court can find him a foster home till he grows up some
more."

Glenn
shook his head. "I doubt his family would miss him."

"It's
worth a try." Daniel went to the door then turned back. "Another
thing—"

"Yes?"

"I
hate to say this, but he picked my pocket and blamed it on you."

"I'm
not surprised at that, either," Glenn said. "Not the first time
someone did." He took a set of keys from a nail and walked Daniel to the
door. "I'm closing up now. Good luck with the kid."

"Thanks.
I'll try to talk to his folks. If they don't care, I'll let him tag along for
company. Know where I can find him a pair of shoes?"

"There's
a cobbler a few doors down. He might have an old pair he doesn't want."

Daniel
found the shoe shop still open. The smell of leather and shoe wax reminded him
of the shoe-shine parlor back home on the Square, across from the courthouse.
He picked out a pair of secondhand brown shoes the proprietor said someone had
failed to pick up last year. Daniel was welcome to them free of charge, just to
get them off his hands.

A
few minutes later, he went back to where he'd left Chris and his belongings.
The gunnysack and banjo were right where he'd left them, but Chris and his wet
laundry were nowhere to be found. Maybe he'd gone to pick some pockets before
bedtime.
Damn his little hide.

He
placed the shoes beside the sack and sat down to wait, and promptly fell
asleep.

Before
dawn, a bawling cow brought him to his feet. He looked around, saw the Jersey's
big, brown eyes staring at him.

"Which
way did he go?" he asked her.

Chapter 18

LaDaisy
heard Saul's voice and thought she was dreaming. She lay in a stupor for the
next hour, with Mary sleeping on her arm. And when the next voice she heard was
her mother's, she opened her eyes.

"What's
wrong, LaDaisy?"

She
tried to speak, but her words were thick and slurred.

Vera
tried again.

"Saul
came to tell me you were sick. He nearly did himself in walking across town in
this heat. He wouldn't have done that unless he thought you were dying."
She leaned down and looked in her daughter's eyes. "My Lord, girl, you
look terrible. Have you been drinking?"

"Mama,
no." She tried to sit up. "So sick. Take Mary."

Vera
picked up her granddaughter. "She's soaked. When did you change her diaper
last? You both smell."

"Sorry."

Mary
awoke and began crying as Vera rocked her back and forth.

"Oh
dear, I don't know what she wants. Is she hungry?"

LaDaisy
lay back down and rolled her head from side to side. Her brain hurt so much she
thought it would explode. Her underpants were wet, probably urine from
straining when she puked. She wouldn't know for sure what it was till she could
check, and she couldn't with her mother standing there.

"No,"
she said. "She just nursed."

Vera
changed Mary's wet clothes. "So small," she said, picking her up
again. "I worry about this one, LaDaisy. You never should've had another
baby."

LaDaisy
closed her eyes and ears.

"Shut
up, Mother."

"Don't
talk to me that way. If she's not hungry, then she's unhappy. I'll go make her
a sugar tit, and when I come back, you'll tell me what's wrong. If you need a
doctor, I'll see you get one."

She
left the room, and LaDaisy managed to sit up on the side of the bed. Her head
swam as she got up and followed her mother.

She
stood in the kitchen doorway as Vera took a clean dishrag from the drawer, put
a dab of lard in the center, and sprinkled on some sugar. She rocked the fussy
child in one arm and gathered up the cloth with one hand, twisted it into a
ball around the lard and offered it to Mary. Mary seized the sugar tit eagerly,
and was soon dozing again.

"Thank
you," LaDaisy said.

"I
hated to use plain lard, but I couldn't find any butter."

"Butter
doesn't last long in this house."

"Oh
well, she seems satisfied with this. She just wanted comforting." Vera
observed LaDaisy carefully. "But a sugar tit won't help you. How long have
you been this way?"

LaDaisy
filled a jelly glass with water from the bucket, swallowed a few drops and set
it down on the cabinet. Her mouth was so dry, but would anything ever taste
right again after the bitterness of quinine?

"A
few hours," she said.

She
started back to the bedroom and noticed Saul in the front room rocker. He rose
and came over, gently touched her shoulder.

"Are
you okay, LaDaisy? I brought your mother. I didn't know what to do."

"Thank
you, Saul." She patted his hand, fighting back tears. "You did the
right thing. I'll be fine."

"Well,
I'll go out back and attack them weeds now." He paused at the door.
"Then I'll go tell Bernie to keep the kids another night. No sense in them
getting whatever you got."

"What
I have isn't contagious," she said.

After
he left, she went back to the bedroom without checking to see what the
stickiness was. If abortion fluids, they'd probably come out in a flood. She
sat down on the bed.

Vera
followed her and settled Mary in the cradle. She glanced at LaDaisy.

"Feeling
better?"

"Some.
Not as dizzy, but still queasy."

 "What
brought this on? Did you catch something?"

"No."

"This
room smells like vomit."

"I
puked."

She
could only imagine what was going through Vera's mind. Upset stomachs and
throwing up. Morning sickness. Pregnancy.
Has she guessed?

Vera
sat down next to her.

"I
left a note for Ida. She went to the doctor. She's having cramps, but still has
a month to go."

LaDaisy
nodded. "I know she's been uncomfortable, and with the weather so
hot."

"It
takes a woman to know what another one's going through at a time like
this."

LaDaisy's
heart softened toward her sister. Both were grown-up women now, and women
shared the miseries of pregnancy and childbirth.

"She'll
be okay, Mama."

"I
hope so. Maybe she'll stop by here before going home."

LaDaisy
thought of the red coupe. "Is she driving herself?"

"I
believe so. I worry about that girl. She shouldn't be gallivanting all over
town at a time like this."

LaDaisy
got up and found the key to Daniel's closet.

"She'll
be fine, Mama. Babies don't come so fast. Remember when Wayne was born? Three
days. I thought I was dying."

"Well,
that was you," Vera said. "Ida might not take so long, at least I
hope she doesn't." She smiled as LaDaisy unlocked the closet and opened
the door. "I can't wait to get my hands on that baby."

LaDaisy
removed the bottle from the closet shelf and turned to her mother.

"She'd
be better off not to have Clay's baby."

"What?"

"Anybody's
but his."

"Well,
I never. Surely you don't mean that."

LaDaisy
looked in on Mary, who now slept peacefully. She wished she could relive this
day. Wished she'd made a different decision. She looked at the half-filled
bottle of quinine and felt like throwing up again.

"This
isn't like you," Vera said. "I know you haven't always gotten along
with your sister, but—"

LaDaisy
turned and glared at her mother. "I do mean it. I'd give anything if she
wasn't having his baby."

"But
why?"

"Why
indeed." LaDaisy thrust out the bottle to Vera.

"What's
this?"

"It's
poison, if you take too much."

"Wh—?"

"Quinine."

Shock
registered on Vera's face and she rose shakily. She turned the bottle around in
her hand, staring at it. "Why would you—what's this got to do with Ida?
Where did you get it? Are you saying you took quinine and it made you
sick?"

"Exactly."

"They
treat fevers and malaria with this. You're not saying you've got malaria. How
could you?"

"No,
I don't have malaria."

"Then
what? I know some women have taken it to ... oh no." She shoved the bottle
back at LaDaisy.

"Women
take it to abort unwanted pregnancies," LaDaisy said. "I've heard it
works sometimes. But sometimes not."

She
waited for Vera to speak. When she didn't, she replaced the bottle on the shelf
and locked the closet. The sound of a car out front caught their attention, and
they hurried to the other room.

"There's
Ida Mae now," LaDaisy said. "I see Clay brought her after all."

She
breathed a sigh of relief as Ida Mae climbed out of the auto and Clay backed it
into the street.

Ida
opened the screen door and came inside. Her face was puffy and she looked
miserable.

"Sit
down, Ida. We were just talking about you."

Vera
frowned at LaDaisy and shook her head.

"I
told your sister you went to the doctor," she said to Ida. "What did
he say? I thought you were driving."

"I
was going to, but Clay said he'd drop me off. I can ride back with you."
Ida Mae turned to LaDaisy. "So you've been sick? What seems to be the
matter?"

Before
LaDaisy could reply, Vera cut in.

"Do
tell us what the doctor said, Ida."

"He
said I'm big and fat and shouldn't eat so much, or I'll have a baby elephant."

LaDaisy
snorted and sat in the rocker as Ida Mae took a seat next to her mother on the
davenport.

"A
lot men doctors know. First time one gets pregnant, he'll change his tune. How
much longer does he think you have?"

"He
thinks I'm farther along than he realized. Maybe he miscalculated, I don't
know. The baby can come any time."

"I
see."

Ida's
brows shot up. "You
see
? Is that all you have to say? You don't
sound very excited for someone who's about to become an aunt. But if you can
deliver babies, I can do likewise." She pouted. "Don't you want to be
an auntie?"

"Not
really."

"Oh
for God's sake, LaDaisy," Vera said. "Leave her alone."

"You
both want to know what made me sick?"

Vera
shifted her eyes toward Ida.

"Yes,"
Ida Mae said, "tell us what happened. One day you're fine. The next day
your father-in-law hikes across town because you're dying. Obviously, you
didn't die."

"I
took poison."

"Hush!"
Vera said. "This isn't the time or place, LaDaisy."

Ida 
lay a hand on her mother's arm. "No, Mama, let her talk." She turned
back to LaDaisy, her eyes big, bright, and curious. "You don't mean you
really took poison. You'd be ... you'd be dead. What kind?"

"No!"
Vera jumped off the davenport and marched up to LaDaisy. "Don't you dare."

She
knows.

LaDaisy
ignored her mother and addressed her sister. "Clay should've come in with
you, Ida. Do you know why he didn't?"

"He
said he'd come another time. He needs to pick up the rent anyway."

Tears
pooled in LaDaisy's eyes. The back door slammed, and she could see Saul in the
kitchen drinking from the dipper. She waited for him to leave, then turned her
attention to Ida.

"I
already paid the rent." The tears broke loose and spurted out.

"What
do you mean?"

LaDaisy's
lower lip quivered. She had to make Ida Mae realize what kind of man she'd
married. She wanted to lash out and hurt somebody.

Vera
came over and shook a finger in her face.

"Stop
it this minute, LaDaisy. You're talking crazy."

"
La
Lazy, La Crazy
. I've been called that all my life. Behind my back and to my
face." She tossed her head and laughed with tears streaming down her face.
"What kind of poison, Ida? Well, not
really
poison. Just quinine.
You know what quinine does, don't you?"

Ida
stared at her. "Are you saying you ... I know quinine can cause
miscarriages, and sometimes abortions. But Daniel's gone. Surely you couldn't
be that way. How?"

Vera
grabbed Ida's arm.

"Let's
go home, dear. You can see she's not thinking straight." Mary let out a
wail from the bedroom. "Now see what happened."

Ida
brushed her mother's hand away. "No, I'm not leaving yet."

LaDaisy's
face flooded. "I don't want to tell you!"

"Tell
me what?"

Vera
left them to attend Mary.

"I
paid the rent, Ida." LaDaisy felt like throwing up again. "I paid
your husband his rent. I don't owe the bastard another goddam cent. You tell
him if he comes here again—"

She
turned and ran to the bedroom, relieved her mother of Mary, and sobbed into the
baby's hair.

"You
have some explaining to do," Vera said. "You're hysterical."

"Go
away, Mama. Take Ida Mae and—and just go the hell home."

"What
you did is unforgivable." Vera lowered her voice. "To think while
your sister's burdened with her pregnancy, you had an affair with her husband.
How despicable of you."

"
Just
leave
."

"Someday
you'll pay for what you've done."

LaDaisy
held her child tightly and scrunched her face up.

"Oh
Mama! For once, will you listen to me? Do you think I wanted him to rip my
insides out? I should've known you'd blame me."

"But
I don't—" There was something in Vera's voice, and a hint of shock on her
face, as if she suddenly grasped the situation, but didn't fully believe it.
She reached for LaDaisy, then hastily drew her hand back. "What am I going
to tell Ida? This will destroy her."

LaDaisy
silently pleaded for her mother to show some real concern, some glimmer of
understanding of the shame Clay had brought to their family. But there was none
forthcoming.

"I
don't care what you tell her, Mama. It's better she knows the truth."

Ida
came to the bedroom door, plainly shaken, her face ashen.