Dorothy Garlock - [Route 66] (28 page)

He drove the Ford coupe at breakneck speed toward Amarillo and hardly slowed over the rough, unpaved patch of highway. The workers jumped out of the way, cursing and shaking their fists at the car as it disappeared in the cloud of dust.

Homer and Sugar didn’t appear to notice Chester’s recklessness. They cuddled on the seat beside him, hugging and kissing and … more. At times Homer’s hand was up under her dress and hers was rubbing his crotch.

The woman was a bitch.

Chester seethed with indignation. Homer had gone too far this time. Some of the men in their family were a little wild, he thought, but all of the women were decent. Every blasted one of them! Chester wanted no truck with this woman who called herself Sugar. She was the type who would eat a man alive.

Chester intended to dump Homer and his whore the first chance he got and head back home. He admitted to himself that he had done a lot of mean things, but taking his mother’s car bothered him the most. He shouldn’t have let the stupid little horsecock talk him into it.

He drove into Amarillo at sundown.

“Find a motor court, Uncle. We’ll wait till dark, then go out and find us some money. We got to have us a good time while we wait for the road-hoppers to get here.”

“They won’t get here tonight,” Sugar said. “Foley piddles along following the trucks and won’t drive at night.”

“Good. That’ll give us some time. This is a good-sized town. With yore looks, baby, we ort to do pretty good here.”

“I’m not goin’ to rob any more stores,” Chester said flatly.

“You didn’t rob them, Uncle. I did. It was as easy as fallin’ off a log. But I got me a idey how we can get more money faster without takin’ such a risk.”

“We’ve got enough gas money to get home.”

“You still singin’ that tune? I’m not through with that cowboy yet. I ain’t goin’ till I am.”

“Homer, honey, you said we’d go to California—”

“I ain’t goin’ to California either!” Chester broke in angrily.

“Don’t get it in yore head to run out on us, Uncle Chester.” Homer’s voice held a threat. Then he laughed nastily. “I bet I know what’s got yore tail over the line. Yo’re randy as a ruttin’ moose and mad cause ya ain’t gettin’ any of what my Sugar’s puttin’ out.”

“I ain’t wantin’
her
.”

“Well, la-di-da! You wouldn’t get it if you was rich as Rockofelter—or whatever his name is,” Sugar jeered.

Homer laughed and kissed her soundly. “He ain’t gettin’ any if he was Alfalfa Bill Murray, the great know-it-all governor of Oklahoma. This’s all mine.” He grabbed her between her legs.

Sugar giggled. Chester grimaced and muttered under his breath. Homer ignored him.

“Ya know what that crazy son of a bitch did?”

“Who?”

“Alfalfa Bill. He plowed up the yard at that statehouse where he lived and planted taters. Don’t that beat all?”

“Why’d he do that?”

“Hell, who knows? Whater ya mutterin’ about, Uncle? Stick with us till we get enough money to get us a car and you can hightail it back to the sticks, run a little booze and take handouts from Grandma while me ’n’ Sugar is livin’ high on the hog.”

Chester turned into a motor court with six tiny cabins lined up behind the main office.

“Find out what they got, Chester. If they got one with two beds, ya won’t have to sleep in the car.”

Chester got out and slammed the door.

“I don’t like him none a-tall.” Sugar snuggled her hand inside Homer’s shirt and ran her fingernails over his chest. “And I don’t want him in the room with us tonight.”

“Why not, pretty little puss? If ya get him hot enough, he’ll drive this car to hell and back for ya. Wouldn’t ya like that?”

“Naw, I want it to be just you and me.”

“We need the car right now, little pussy,” he whispered in her ear, then grabbed her earlobe with his teeth and nibbled on it.

“He left the keys. We could just drive off and leave him.”

Homer chuckled. “Yo’re a real pisser, sugar teat. He’d call the sheriff, and we’d have to hole up somewhere.”

“He’d do that?”

“Wouldn’t put it past him. Tell ya what. Get all dolled up tonight, sweet pussy, and we’ll go out huntin’. Now that I’ve got you to partner up with, it’s time we got another car. If that old lady back at the garage saw this one, she’s told the cowboy and yore old man. They’ll be on the lookout for it.”

“She couldn’t of seen it. We parked down the road and went through the woods.”

“I got it all figured out how we can get our hands on some money and buy our own car.”

“Foley had money, but he wouldn’t give me any. He wore a money belt around his waist and wouldn’t take it off for anything. No chance of us getting that.”

Homer grabbed her face and turned it to his. “He wouldn’t take it off even to get naked with ya?”

“No.” Her lips formed the word. He was holding her face so tight she couldn’t speak.

“The poor, stupid son of a bitch!” His fingers dug into her cheeks to force her to open her mouth before he kissed her as if sucking the life out of her. “Yo’re a wicked little bitch with the face of an angel” he breathed. “Ya like it rough, don’t ya?”

Her fingers dug into the back of his neck. She pinched the small nipple on his chest so hard that he grunted.

“Yeah, and so does my horny stud.”

Chester jerked the car door open. They broke the kiss, and Homer said, “Well?”

“Far end. Bed and a cot.”

Sugar groaned.

Homer laughed. “Don’t worry, little puss. Uncle’s a sound sleeper.”

Later, after they had eaten at a diner, they went back to the cabin so Sugar could put on what Homer jokingly called her working clothes—a modest blue dress with a round low neckline. She brushed her hair back and fastened a blue bow at the side with a bobby pin. When she was ready for Homer’s approval, he took a cloth and wiped off some of the rouge and lipstick.

“Yo’re just a sweet little girl. Remember? Now, ya know what to do. We’ll let you out a block from that fancy hotel. When one a them well-dressed dudes comes out, turn that sweet innocent little face up and let out a little groan. Act like yo’re hurtin’ real bad. He’ll take ya past that alley like he had a string tied to his pecker.” Homer kissed her, careful to not smear her lipstick.

“I’d like to tie a string to your pecker and lead you into a dark alley,” Sugar whispered seductively, and heard Chester snort. The freedom to talk dirty was one of the things that excited her most.

Acting as if setting up a man to be robbed was something she did every day of the week, Sugar, looking beautiful and seductive, her black hair tumbling around her face and shoulders, got out of the car a block from the hotel.

She was nervous about what she was about to do but was determined that Homer not know it. She had learned a lot about herself during the past twenty-four hours. This was the exciting life she craved, far removed from that hick town in Missouri and from poor, dull Foley Luker and his two equally dull and stupid kids.

Sugar walked confidently down the street until she reached the hotel, where she pretended to stumble. She let out a little cry of pain and hobbled to the side of the building, where she stood on one foot and rubbed her ankle.

“Oh, oh!” she cried as a well-dressed man came out of the hotel.

“Miss? Miss, are you hurt?”

“I’ve sprained my ankle.” Sugar grabbed his arm as if she were about to fall and looked pleadingly into the face of a man with gray hair who wore an expensive suit and a brown felt hat. “Oh, dear. Oh, me. I’ve got to get down the street to the car. If my husband comes back and I’m not there, he’ll … be so … mad …” She let her voice fall away.

“Where is your car?”

“It’s … it’s right down there.”

“I’ll help you. Hold on to my arm.”

“Thank you, sir. Oh, thank you.” Sugar held tightly to his arm and took hopping steps.

“Will you be all right until your husband comes?”

“Yes, but it … hurts.”

“We’ll take it slow.”

When they reached the alley running alongside the hotel, Homer stepped out and rapped the man smartly on the side of the head with a sap, caught him as he fell and then dragged him into the dark alley. He quickly stripped him of his wallet, a pocket watch and a ring. He stuffed them in his pocket, took Sugar’s arm and walked with her leisurely down the street to where Chester waited in the car.

“How’d I do?” Sugar said after they had sped away.

“You’re a natural, little puss. Let’s see what we got. Whee,” he said after he had counted the money he took from the billfold. “Fifty-two dollars, the ring and the watch.”

“Did you kill him?” Chester asked.

“Naw. I just gave him a little tap on the head. He’ll wake up in the alley with a whale of a headache, wondering what hit him.”

“It was exciting,” Sugar exclaimed. “And easy. Where are we going now?”

“Ya ort to be in the movies, little puss. Head for that speakeasy we spotted a while ago, Chester. Then we’ll hit a honky-tonk. Before the night’s over we’ll have enough money to buy a car and you’ll be shed of us.”

Jody and Margie followed Alvin into a treeless area at Alanreed, Texas. The ruins of a burned-out house sat in the middle of the campground. A half dozen campers were there and looked to have been there for some time. Clothes hung on lines stretched between dusty cars and trucks. Children played barefoot in the dirt while women tended campfires. Several men pulled their heads out from under the hood of a car to watch the newcomers drive in.

“They look like a real down-and-out bunch,” Jody said as he followed Alvin’s lead to the far side of the burned-out house. Nearby, a privy that had survived the fire leaned precariously to one side.

“They’ve left their homes looking for a better life. I hope they find it.” Margie thought that they at least had one another. It was more than she had.

Jody drove the truck close to the Putmans’, then backed up and parked, leaving no more than a car length between the two trucks. Elmer had always made sure that there was a good distance between his camp and the others. Brady stopped close beside Margie on the other side, making it plain to the campers that watched that this caravan was a close unit, probably family.

Mona and Rusty came by as Margie was working the kinks out of her shoulders.

“Eat with us tonight, Margie,” Mona said. “Daddy is getting out the kerosene stove. We’re going to have fried potatoes and onions.”

“All right. I’ll bring a can of corn.”

“I haven’t had fried potatoes and corn since we left home.”

“She’s tired of my company, Margie. She didn’t ask
me
to eat with her.” Rusty’s hand on Mona’s shoulder moved across the back of her neck to cup the other shoulder and pull her closer to him. She turned on him.

“Bullfoot! Shame on you, Rusty Putman. I did too ask you to eat with us, and you said not until I came to eat with you. You said that, and I said I didn’t want to leave Daddy and Jody alone tonight.”

“She’s tellin’ a windy, Margie.” He laughed happily, his face turned to Mona. It was hard to believe that he was not seeing her.

“You certainly did, you … you clabberhead.”

It was a pleasure, Margie thought, to see how happy they were together.

“Hi, Rusty. Hi, Mona.” Anna Marie and Blackie, glad to be out of the car, came running toward them. “Guess what? Aunt Grace is goin’ to let me draw faces on the eggs before we peel them.”

“You can’t draw a face,” Rusty teased, and stooped to scratch Blackie’s ears. The dog was glad to see him and had whined to let him know he was there.

“I can too. I’ve got a red crayon. I’m goin’ to get it. Uncle Brady,” Anna Marie called as she ran away.

“See what I mean, Margie? He’s gettin’ to be a regular smart aleck.”

Margie laughed. “But he sings like a bird.”

“More like a buzzard.” Mona giggled and tried to move away. Rusty caught her, reached down and swung her up into his arms.

“Is there a muddy hole around here, Margie?” He swung Mona around, and Blackie, wanting to join in the merriment, raced around them and barked.

“Put me down, you knucklehead!”

“Not a muddy hole in sight, Rusty. You might consider dropping her in the ruins of that burned-out house.”

“Where is it?”

“To your right.”

Rusty took a few steps, stopped and let Mona slide down until her feet touched the ground.

Their laughter reached Margie as they walked away, Blackie frolicking alongside, Rusty’s arm across Mona’s shoulders, hers around his waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Without her stepmother glaring at her, waiting to find something to criticize, Mona was free to act like a young girl in love.

Suddenly Margie felt old. It had been a long time since she was young and carefree and did silly things just for the fun of it.

Since Elmer had gone to a store the day he spent away from Deke’s campground, the cupboard was well stocked when Margie looked in it to find a can of corn. There was even a box of Cream of Wheat and syrup for pancakes. She made a mental note to get milk when next they stopped for ice.

She took the corn, the canvas chair, a plate and eating utensils with her when she went to the Luker camp. The get-together was enjoyable. Even Foley appeared to be more relaxed without Sugar’s cloying, overpowering presence. Mona and Jody were certainly more at ease. Foley cooked the meal of fried potatoes and onions on a small kerosene stove and heated the creamed corn, Margie’s contribution, right in the can.

While she and Mona washed the supper dishes, Foley, Brady and Alvin squatted on their heels with a map spread out in front of them. Jody and Rusty came from the Putman camp with Anna Marie hanging on Rusty’s hand. Blackie, as usual, trailed them.

Later when Margie went back to the truck with her chair, Brady’s head and shoulders were beneath the hood.

“Is something wrong?”

He raised up to look at her. “No. I was checking the oil. The motor is in good condition. It doesn’t use much oil.” He wiped his hands on a rag he pulled from his back pocket and shut the hood. “Alvin thinks that we should leave at dawn and make as much time as we can tomorrow on the flatland. After we get over into New Mexico a ways, it’s up one hill and down another.”