Joko (9 page)

There was kindness here, a family full of love and peace. But it wasn’t his family.

Johnny thought he caught a whiff of Jocko. Or was it just his imagination? Gert had the same thought but said nothing.

She was too preoccupied wondering what they would do if Jocko decided to go berserk.

But to act in a destructive way was against Jocko’s nature. It wasn’t that Jocko’s kin were timid creatures. That was only true where man was concerned. Natural selection had made the sasquatch into a creature with the savvy to know hostility toward humans meant suicide. Hurt a human and the rest will track you down. It was a law so old people had forgotten they lived by it for thousands of years. In the ancient times there were many kinds of men. Now there were only two; the ones that lived in the light and the ones that lived in the shadows.

Jocko held on to his wits, summoning his self control. But the smell of man was too strong. He squatted on one knee and surveyed the room.

“He looks so cold.” Gert walked over to a cot and returned with a quilt. “It’ll keep him warm ’til he decides to …”

“He never had a blanket on him ’til the ride in the wagon,” said Johnny.

“It works with human children when they’re upset,” Gert said with a shrug.

To her disappointment it really didn’t work. Jocko let the quilt slide from his shoulders.

Jocko longed for a nice warm snowbank or a field of ferns. He would burrow down to the sweet grasses and leaves and bugs. He could nest, out of sight, nibbling on lichen and sleeping. Wonderfully, sleeping … long deep sleep. Jocko’s eyes closed
.

His hosts looked at one another. Gradually Jocko’s chin slid to his knee and he dozed in a half seated, half crouched position. One eye was tightly shut, but Johnny noticed that the other eye remained partially open. But as far as Johnny could tell Jocko was fully asleep in the middle of their kitchen floor.

Gert put a finger to her lips. “Let him sleep,” she whispered.

Three hours later Johnny and Gert had eaten a hasty dinner of bread, corned beef, and mornin’ beans. They had more or less accepted Jocko as a strange fixture in their kitchen and were sharing sasquatch stories they’d heard around campfires. They speculated and wondered, every so often looking at Jocko as if to verify that he was real.

Jocko stayed where he was, in the middle of the floor. As bedtime approached, Gert and Johnny managed to get him covered without waking him up. To get it to stay on his round shoulders she’d had to use a pin and in her nervousness pricked Jocko slightly with it. But, to her surprise, he didn’t seem to feel it. After that they just let him be.

Gert rapped her corncob pipe on the table, spilling half the ashes out of the tray. She cringed and looked at Joko, but he slept on, taking no notice of them.

“What will we do with him?” asked Gert.

“Well,” said Johnny. “I think it’s more a question of what do I do with him. Tomorrow, I’m going to see if I can find some clothes and a hat that fits him. I have to find a good way to get Jocko past people without them takin’ no notice of him.”

She looked at the ape-boy. With each passing moment Jocko looked more like a boy than a beast, but she knew that others wouldn’t see him that way. And while she had sympathy for Jocko’s situation, it was Johnny she worried about.

“But, Johnny,” she said, “I know you care what happens to Jocko. But you’ve got a life and maybe it’s no more important than his, but don’t forget it’s no less important neither! Don’t ruin your life tryin’ to help Jocko save his. That’s all I have to say, for the moment.” Johnny was ready to argue but Gert put up her hand, indicating that she didn’t want to talk any more, and retired to her bedroom.

Johnny let her go without a word.

Johnny had fallen asleep in Uncle Jimmy’s over-stuffed leather chair. Sitting in it was always a help when he had things to think about. But he had curled into a ball during the night, and when he awoke his arms and legs were numb and lifeless as two dead salmon.

“Great!” he said, as he tried to get some life in them. He saw that Jocko was no longer sitting, like an Indian, in the center of the cabin floor.

Johnny looked at his unused bunk, visible through an open door; a pile of soft blankets waiting for him. His arms started to tingle as the blood returned to them.

“Am I gonna spend every night worryin’ about you,

Jocko?” he said, rising to his feet.

The smell of coffee filled the air, and to his amazement, Jocko was seated at the breakfast table eating vegetables.

Seeing that Johnny was up his aunt called to him.

“Johnny, don’t you have railroad duties today? Weekends don’t last forever.”

“I guess so,” Johnny admitted.

His aunt wouldn’t let Johnny sit at the table until he changed clothes. When he returned, looking and smelling fresher, she repeated her inquiry, adding: “I hope you’re not plannin’ to leave Jocko here alone with me, are you?”

“Well, why not?” he said, sitting down opposite Jocko.

“You two seem to get along.”

Picking up his coffee he looked at the sasquatch. Jocko was seated perfectly in the chair with both elbows on the table. A large piece of brown paper served as a plate for the collection of garden peas and sweet corn.

Johnny smiled, amazed at Jocko’s adaptability. The beast they had found four days ago lying by the railroad tracks was sitting across from him eating breakfast like part of the family.

Johnny smiled and shook his head in disbelief.

“I can’t believe Jocko’s still here.”

“If he’s to leave, he’d have done it before last night,” said Gert. “You know, Jocko’s about the same size as you, Johnny. Most of your old clothes will fit him.”

“Fitting him isn’t the problem,” said Johnny. “Getting him into them, that’ll be the trick.”

Gert had been making a large stack of pancakes while they talked. She’d cut up strawberries to go with them. Jocko, she said, had watched the entire process with great interest and seemed thrilled when she gave him a few to go with his greens.

“Too bad the sasquatch can’t talk,” she said. “I bet he’s brimmin’ with questions.”

Jocko watched Johnny eat, and when he finished his breakfast Jocko got out of his chair, came around the table and started pulling Johnny toward the porch.

Johnny followed under protest, even though Jocko’s touch spoke to him in a voice he couldn’t identify. It was telling him he had to find the trail of his family before they got too far away.

Johnny could see the pictures in his mind as Jocko tugged at him.

Rocky circled the boys, barking nervously, not sure of Jocko’s intentions.

“Rocky, you leave us alone to work this out ourselves.”

Johnny patted the dog on the head.

Jocko effortlessly pulled Johnny out through the screen door onto the porch. He was physically stronger than Johnny imagined, but strong as he was, Jocko didn’t hurt Johnny.

Still, the sudden brutish action made it clear that any plans to civilize Jocko would have to wait.

Jocko yearned for his family and the mountains. Until now, it had been his entire world, his path, one that his people had followed for thousands of years. Even as Jocko pulled Johnny toward the wagon there was a voice inside him that wanted to leave.

Gert was on the porch while Johnny hitched Tilly to the wagon. She asked Johnny how he knew where Jocko wanted to go. He told her he was going to the place they’d found him in the first place. “That’s where we’ll start, at least.”

“Well, I guess it’s fine for Jocko to head into the woods with only the fur on his back but a human should pack some gear.”

She was right, of course. Johnny put a hand on Jocko’s shoulder and explained.

The mountain-boy looked disappointed, but he waited patiently on the wagon while Johnny and his aunt quickly gathered hiking gear inside the house. In their haste they made too much noise to hear Rocky’s barking.

A horse and buggy was coming up the dirt road toward their farm.

By the time any of them heard the dog’s warning it was too late to react. Not sure of what to do, Jocko sat wide-eyed in the wagon and watched as Gert and Johnny spring from the house.

They were surprised but relieved to see it was Dr

Hannington’s buggy, drawn by a beautiful black mare.

“Helloooo, folks,” called the doctor.

Hannington gave Jocko a cursory inspection. “So, Jocko has found a home, I see. How’s the head, my friend?”

Johnny had almost forgotten Jocko’s injury. When they’d brought him to town it had bled enough that they had considered bandaging him, but by the next morning the wound was almost completely healed.

“Hi, Doc Hannington,” said Johnny. “Jocko seems fine.”

“Hello, Doctor,” said Gert.

The doctor doffed his hat politely. “My respects, Ma’am.”

“Is this a social call, Doctor?” Gert asked.

The doctor’s face fell when he looked back at Jocko. He addressed Jocko, looking him right in the eye. “You know, this is the first time I’ve really gotten a good long look at you, young man.”

Jocko blinked.

Johnny wondered what he should say.

“I found him,” he finally blurted out.

“Really?” said the doctor, getting out of his buggy. Before Johnny could elaborate the doctor rested a foot on the porch step and lit his pipe. “Would you mind if we all went inside for a short while, or were you and Jocko going somewhere?”

“Just … uh … going for a ride,” answered Johnny.

“I don’t want to inconvenience anyone,” said the doctor cheerfully. “But I think it would be best if we talked.”

Doc Hannington glanced at his horse. “And I believe my new mare would appreciate a moment o r two at your watering trough. The day is getting hot. I could use a glass of water for myself as well.”

“Johnny, help the doctor find a nice cool spot for his handsome new mare.” Gertrude smiled graciously. “I must apologize for forgetting my manners. I was just about to have some lemonade, if you’d like to join me.”

Johnny led the horse and buggy over to the shade of an old oak where there was ample grass to content the mare.

Jocko remained sitting in the wagon, like a statue, expecting that soon Johnny would climb into the buckboard and they’d leave for the bluffs. But Johnny didn’t do what he’d said he would, and Jocko didn’t know why. There were uncertain feelings surrounding the humans, gestures and thoughts and fears. All because of a human they called ‘Doc’.

The doctor and Gertrude could be heard talking inside the house as Johnny reluctantly climbed the porch steps. He stopped at the top and turned to face Jocko. They looked at each other for a moment, then Johnny gestured for Jocko to come in the house with him.

“This is about you, after all.”

Jocko got down off the wagon and in a few quick bounds was on the porch next to Johnny. Together they entered the kitchen. The doctor was in the living room, hat in hand, looking at an engraving on the wall as he waited for Gert to prepare the lemonade.

Jocko looked at the doctor’s hand blankly as Johnny grasped it. He noticed the doctor’s eyes were not on Johnny when they touched. They were fixed on Jocko. The sasquatch recognized the gesture as an insult. Touching without eye contact meant lack of respect.

Jocko waited for Johnny to challenge or back away from the doctor, or even assume the fighting stance. Jocko picked up a shovel leaning against a wall next to the front door. He handed it to Johnny, as the only item handy that could be used as a weapon.

Johnny took the shovel from Jocko and put it back where it had been. “No gardening right now, friend. Doc wants to talk to us.” He looked at the doctor and the man nodded.

Gert put a pitcher of lemonade on the kitchen table. Next to it was an ice bucket and three glasses full of ice that she’d chipped earlier.

"Oh my, Miss Gertrude,” said the doctor. “This is special.

To have nice fresh cold ice in the lemonade.” He took a long slurping drink as Gert handed some carrots and celery to Jocko.

Jocko was confused. A moment ago they were leaving to find his family. Now they were back in the kitchen. He decided to hunker down in the same place he had spent the night until he figured out what was going on.

The three humans sat at the kitchen table remarking about the unusually warm summers they’d been getting, which led to estimates on this year’s crops.

“Doc,” said Johnny after a minute of this. “What do you hear from Costerson?”

“Yes, Costerson and Barnum.” He looked at Gert. “When I last saw Jocko, he was in a cage being shipped by train to the circus in Sarasota. The railroad agent, Bill Costerson, feels that Jocko’s the property of the railroad, meaning
his
property.” He looked at Johnny, Gert, and finally at Jocko.

“He’s searching for him right now.

“Whoever or whatever Jocko is … well, we’re pretty sure he’s no Indian. We think he’s something the local Indians call–”

“A sasquatch?” said Gert.

“Right,” he said. “If so, it’s the first one ever caught. What more is there to say?”

“Where do you stand in all this, Doc?” demanded Johnny.

“Where do I stand?” The doctor leaned forward to Johnny.

He folded his hands gravely and said: “Honestly, Johnny and Gert, this is about money. Costerson has already sent word to the constable and the mayor that there might be an ape on the prowl somewhere around Yale. And there’s already been questions about you. I told ’em you had nothing to do with Jocko’s disappearance, but I don’t think Costerson believed me. They’ll be comin’ out here before too long. Maybe today.”

Then the doctor looked at Johnny. “Did you set him free, Johnny? Be honest with me. Because this could cost you a job, I hate to say.”

“No, I didn’t,” said Johnny. “When I got to town the train was already leaving. I chased it but couldn’t catch up with it.

He must have gotten out of the cage by himself. I gave up and was goin’ back when he called to me from the bushes.

That was just before I met you. I wanted to free him – but I didn’t. When we got back to the station Jocko hid while I talked to you. He was right there, watchin’ us, when we talked.”