Joko (12 page)

While Costerson lit his cigar, Johnny thought of Jocko. He wondered if the ape-boy was still under the porch and what he must be thinking. Johnny could imagine Jocko doing almost anything. For all he knew Jocko might burst into the room blazing away with two six shooters. The thought made Johnny smile.

Costerson saw the smile. “What’s the joke, John?”

Johnny was beyond intimidation. “Why don’t you just sit yourself down and light up a cigar, Mr Costerson?”

Costerson eyed him, unflapped by the boy’s hostile tone.

“I am, thank you, John. Care for one yourself?”

“No, thanks. I was wondering, Mr Costerson, why you think you can just walk in here and start telling us what to do.

This isn’t railroad land, is it?”

Costerson remained calm. “Did I do that?” he asked mockingly, looking over his shoulder at Gert. Then he looked at Ned, still wearing the smile. “Did I tell anyone what to do, Ned?”

Ned lowered his gaze.

Gert didn’t respond but her hand tightened on the handle of the horse pistol behind her back. Johnny could tell that she was angry and wanted Costerson to leave.

Costerson was smiling. The grin seemed pasted on his face like a mask. “Let’s talk about Jocko. That’s the reason I’m here.” He looked at Ned. “I think we got off to a bad start, Ned. The thing is, P. T. Barnum is real hot to get his hands on Jocko.”

“Seems like everybody is,” injected Johnny.

“Well, yes. Hell, John, you said yourself just the other day that this Jocko, he’s a new animal. Well, that’s right. And things like this don’t go unnoticed by people,” said Costerson emphatically. He paused for a second to see if his words were getting through to Johnny.

Johnny had no comment. Encouraged, the agent continued his pitch. “Ned doesn’t know this, but I’ve been authorized to offer you double what we said; two thousand U.S. dollars. Half of it we can give you now and half when you arrive in Sarasota with Jocko – alive and well, of course.”

Suddenly Johnny felt like he was listening to a traveling medicine salesman. He looked over at Gert, still poised by the cabinet. Her eyes were fixed on Johnny and her expression hadn’t changed. She raised an eyebrow when their eyes met, but nothing more. Johnny knew he was on his own.

“I’d like to see that telegram, if you don’t mind.”

Costerson reached inside his jacket, produced a folded yellow paper, and tossed it in front of Johnny.

Examining the telegram gave Johnny time to think. He read the telegram carefully. The offer was genuine. It had come from the Lytton office, dated the day before.

Johnny gave it back to Costerson. “Two thousand dollars.

That’s a heap of money, Mr Costerson. It sounds like you want me to sell Jocko to you, but I’ve got nothing to sell.”

The words just came off the top of Johnny’s head. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to say them. The money was tempting. Too tempting. A nucleus of an idea was forming in his mind, but he needed time to think it through.

Before Costerson could answer, Johnny held up a hand and continued: “I know what you want, Mr Costerson, but I told Ned what I am telling you now. Even if I wanted to help you, how could I? Jocko ran off into the woods and is probably still running as far as I know. You scared him off.”

Costerson frowned. “Johnny, we all know that you had that Jocko in your wagon. If you got him to do that you can get him to do more than that. You have some way of talking to him; some way you get him to do things. All we want you to do is get Jocko to Barnum with no trouble. After that, well, you can take your money and run.”

Costerson was tugging at his well-crafted goatee. He sat stiffly with one leg under the table and the other to the side of his chair as though he might get up at any moment. Johnny wished he would get up and go, taking his temptations with him.

But Costerson surprised him. “All right, John. I can see you’re a tough bargainer. If you do it I’ll get them to up the price. How does five thousand sound?”

Ned looked at Costerson in surprise, almost spilling his coffee. “Five thousand?”

Two thousand dollars was more money than Johnny could imagine, but five was beyond imagining. He knew if Gert had that money she could clear her debts and make sure she’d keep the farm for life. No more relying on the goodness of neighbors and their hired hands to get by. Five thousand dollars would answer all her prayers, but Johnny knew that Gert never would say so, nor was she saying so now. She stood quietly while Costerson made his offer and didn’t even raise an eyebrow.

Johnny had come to have a healthy respect for women because of Gert. She was a solid example of frontier womanhood, always compassionate but with an iron will when the situation demanded it.

“Be strong, Johnny,” she would say. “But don’t ever forget to be kind or to be a gentleman.”

Gert had adopted Johnny when he was eight years old and had guided him through some of the big trials in his life: his dad’s physical abuse and abandonment, the death of his mother. Once he had nearly died of influenza. Gert had nursed him for three weeks, letting the farm go at harvest time, just to mend her nephew. Johnny thought he’d never be able to repay Gert’s selfless love and devotion.

Until now.

Costerson had rested his case. He waited while the offer sank into Johnny’s mind. He sat silently, wearing a bemused expression, watching Johnny’s eyes.

Out of the corner of his eye Johnny saw a dark figure move past the screen door, but when he looked there was nothing. Then he saw a shadow behind the parlor window. He knew it was Jocko.

With Costerson’s eyes on him he didn’t dare react, but the man saw Johnny’s expression change and looked around the room. As far as Johnny could tell, he saw nothing.

“What’ll it be, Johnny?” He said looked back at the boy.

“Will you help us catch Jocko, at least?” Costerson was almost pleading.

“How would I get this money? Cash?” asked Johnny after a moment more of thought. “I mean if I was to help you out.

I’m not saying I will, you understand.”

Costerson nodded and settled back into his chair. “I can get you the cash in a day or two, but you said Jocko ran off.

Do you think he’s still around?”

“He might be,” answered Johnny. “How would I know? I’ve been sitting here talking to you and Ned since he ran off.”

“There’s a good chance he’s miles away by now.” Gert shrugged her shoulders.

Johnny thought for a minute. “Well, Mr Costerson,” he said in a conciliatory tone, “I might be able to help you.” He looked at Ned and then around the room as if considering the problem. Finally he was able to focus on the parlor window, but he saw nothing. Jocko must have moved, but to where?

“What could you do, Johnny?” asked Ned.

“Don’t do nothin’ you don’t want to, John,” said Gert sternly. “I thought you boys were Johnny’s friends … tempting him this way. Don’t you know there’s more to life than money?”

Costerson smiled confidently. “I’d take issue with that, ma’am.”

“I’m aware of that, sir, but it ain’t necessarily the way everybody thinks.”

Johnny was glad to see that Gert wasn’t still gripping the pistol. He checked the windows but could see no evidence of Jocko. This made him nervous.

“How much time do I have to get Jocko?” asked Johnny, looking back at Costerson.

The man smiled broadly. “That’s the spirit, Johnny.” He looked at Gert. “Mrs Wescott, I am an agent for the rails. And this is just business. I assure you we all stand to gain from this matter. You and Johnny can share five thousand dollars.

That’s a heck of a lot of money.”

Costerson stood up. “How much time do you need,

Johnny?”

Johnny shook his head doubtfully. “I can’t say.”

“Well, then, I guess until I see you with Jocko, there’s nothing more to be said, is there?” said Costerson, looking down at Ned.

Ned got the message. “Yeah. Well, guess it’s gettin’ late and we ought to get going.” Looking at Gert obviously gave Ned a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry if we upset you, Mrs Wescott.”

“You’re welcome here any time, Ned,” she answered.

Then she looked at Costerson.

“I wish I could say the same to you, sir,” she said forthrightly. “But I don’t cotton to folks walkin’ into my home with a weapon. No, sir.” She withdrew the horse pistol from its place on the shelf and let it hang at her side. “It ain’t a neighborly thing to do and I won’t let it happen again Mr Costerson, railroad or no!”

Cos terson looked at the pistol in surprise. “Now, ma’am, there’s no need for that. I assure you I meant no harm. The rifle was to protect us from the wild man. That’s all.”

“When we want your help, sir, we’ll ask,” said Gert tartly.

“Now, if you don’t mind, it’s late and I have chores in the mornin’.”

Costerson walked to the door. “One way or another I expect to hear from you, Johnny. The sooner the better.”

Putting on his hat and picking up his rifle, Costerson stepped out the screen door. Holding the door open he turned and said: “Let’s go, Ned.” He looked at Gert. “I’m sorry to have riled you, ma’am. I truly am. But remember, five thousand dollars can help a lot with your chores.” He turned and left, with Ned following close on his heels.

Ned looked back at Johnny. “I hope you’re not mad at me.

I truly am sorry.” He nodded to Gert, who answered him with a smile.

“Don’t worry. It’s okay, Ned. I’ll see you later,” said Johnny. A moment later he heard two horses gallop away from the house.

When they were gone, Johnny walked to the porch and made sure they’d left. He heard the horses’ hooves trail off into the distance, and the crickets began to fill the night.

Johnny peered into the darkness. “Jocko,” he called softly.

“You out there?”

At first Johnny heard nothing, just the cricket, then another sound caught his ear. It seemed to be coming from under his feet. He bent over and cocked his ear to the floorboards.
What was that noise
? he wondered.
Carpenter ants? Hornets
? He pressed his ear to the floor. Then he got up on one knee and laughed.

“What is it Johnny?” asked Gert, standing inside the screen door watching him.

“Jocko! He’s under the porch, sound asleep and snorin’,” he said, still giggling.

“Well, Hell, that’s as good a place as any to get some shut eye,” said Gert.

Johnny got to his feet and tiptoed into the house.

His aunt shut the door behind him and shivered. “Lord, it’s gettin’ cold.”

Johnny went to the fireplace and threw some kindling on the embers.

“Can’t say much for your friends tonight,” said Gert.

“Neither can I,” he answered. “I understand, though. It’s the money.”

“Is Jocko comin’ inside?” she asked.

“He’ll sleep under the porch, I think. Either it’s Jocko or we got a griz under there snorin’ away.” The smile faded quickly from his face as his mind returned to matters at hand. He remembered Jocko’s piteous wail after they failed to find his family’s tracks. That had saddened Johnny more than he could say. He hadn’t had the chance to tell Gert about their outing. Now the words poured from him. And when he finished telling, or trying to tell, his aunt how much Jocko’s pain touched him, Johnny found himself unable to speak and fighting tears.

Gert interrupted him before his struggle became unbearable.

“Johnny,” she said sternly, “that’s his tory now. Let’s talk about Costerson’s offer.”

“What about it?” He said, wiping his cheek on his sleeve.

Gert didn’t attempt an answer. She sat patiently and waited.

Johnny said at last: “Five thousand dollars is an answer to your prayers.”

“How would you know what answers my prayers? The important thing is how
you
feel about this, John. You’ve got to live with what you do.”

Johnny nodded. “I know that, Aunt Gert. But I think I know how we can – what’s that you say – have our bread and eat it too?”

“That’s cake, Johnny, have your cake and eat it too. What do you mean?”

“I think I know a way you can get the five thousand bucks.”

Gert looked at him closely. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, I have this idea, but I need to work it out.”

The grandfather clock in the corner of the living room began to chime.

“Twelve, midnight.” Gert yawned. “We should talk about this in the mornin’. That Costerson fella took the stuffin’ outa me.”

“Me too,” Johnny admitted. “I’m tired.”

Gert rose from her chair and walked toward her bedroom.

She turned to face Johnny, still seated in the chair, brooding.

“Well, that strange boy you been worrying about is sleeping just fine. You ought to be, too.” She yawned again. “Lord save us. A body my age shouldn’t have to put up with such shenanigans.” Her voice trailed off as she closed the door to her bedroom.

Johnny walked over to the fireplace and put on some kindling, then he kicked off his boots and stretched out on the sofa. He thought of Jocko, Costerson, Barnum, and the circus .

Johnny had seen a circus only once in Vancouver, when he was seven. There was a sideshow with strange attractions: giants, midgets, and assorted living oddities. He remembered a crowd gathered around, laughing and jeering at a hairy man in a cage as he killed a chicken with his teeth.

His father had loved it. Johnny felt sorry for the chicken. His father laughed at him when he cried.

Johnny stretched his legs and stared at the embers in the fireplace. Soon he was dreaming of bright lights and circus freaks.

Johnny awoke with a start. And a sore neck.

The smell of Gert’s griddle cakes and sausage wafted though the air. Jocko was sitting across from him in Gert’s chair. The sasquatch was holding a miniature birch bark canoe with the words ‘Port Townsend’ scorched onto it.

Johnny yawned and hoisted his feet onto the floor. “How long you been there?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. The sun burst in the windows next to the double front doors, its yellow light blinding him for an instant. When he looked back Jocko was gone. There was nothing there but an empty chair.

“Breakfast!” called Gert from the kitchen. “You know, Johnny, there is a bed in this house if you ever care to use it!”