Death's Sweet Song (20 page)

It was a long day, that day. I kept telling myself that in a few hours Creston and all its memories would be behind me, and Paula and I would start building something for ourselves. I never thought about our future, just the beginning of it.

The end I didn't want to know.

I wasn't afraid of my father's telling what he knew. After all, I was his son, and a man doesn't go out of his way to send his son to the electric chair. I actually hated Paula every time I thought of her telling him everything. The hate became so powerful at times that my hands ached to get around that pale, soft throat of hers—but I knew what would happen if I tried it. She would look at me and I would be kissing her.

The best thing to do was forget it. My father was hurt and there was no way to ease the pain. And there was no changing the way I felt about Paula, either. Forget it.

I tried. I cleaned all around the grease rack and straightened things in back of the station, and somehow the morning became afternoon and after a long while Ike came, as he always did.

“How's it goin', Joe?”

“All right, I guess. You take over for a while. I think I'll go back to the shack and wash up a little.”

“Sure.”

Ike thought I was acting strange, and I guess I was. But every hour now seemed like a year, and I kept looking at my wrist for the watch that wasn't there. Every time I did it I thought of Otis Miller and wondered if he and Ray King had dug up anything else or if they would be back to take up the questioning again.

They didn't come back. Maybe they had somebody watching me, but I doubted it. So I went to my cabin, took a cold shower, and gave myself a few minutes to settle down, and then I began packing. I threw all my clothes into suitcases, rounded up a few other things I would need, like toilet articles and razor blades, and not until that minute did I remember the gun. That revolver that Sheldon had given me. The one that had killed Otto Finney.

I didn't want to keep it on me, but I sure couldn't leave it here in my cabin. Finally I shoved it into my waistband, under my shirt. It felt cold and deadly, like a coiled snake.

It was almost sundown when I left my cabin. Ike was doing something in front of the station but he didn't seem to be looking my way, so I went over to the Sheldons'. Paula and her husband were having what sounded like a serious talk when I came in, but they broke it off and Paula stood up.

“Are you ready, Joe?”

“I was ready days ago.” I looked at Sheldon. “How do you feel?”

“Better than I did yesterday. Have you heard any more from the Sheriff?”

“No, but that doesn't mean he's stopped working on me.” I turned to Paula. “You've got everything ready to go, haven't you? I want to pull out as soon as it's time to close the station. With a little luck we ought to be well into Arkansas by sunup tomorrow.”

“Everything's ready,” she said. “But I want your father to have another look at Karl before we leave.”

I stared at her. “Are you crazy? We've pushed my father just about as far as he'll go. It simply won't do to have him come again.”

“Would you like it better if Karl's arm became infected again, and we had to go to another doctor somewhere? A doctor we didn't know?” She turned suddenly, went to the window, and stood looking flatly at the sleazy curtains. “It doesn't seem very smart to me,” she said. “The answer is no,” I said.

“All right. But it seems like a little thing to fight about. If your father just brought out some sulfa, we'd have nothing to worry about. We wouldn't have to depend on doctors.”

“No.”

But I was weakening, and she could tell it. She turned from the window and said, “I know what's worrying you. You just don't want to see him, do you? Well, you won't have to. I can drive into town and pick up the drugs and dressings we'll need; all you have to do is let him know I'm coming.”

It seemed a little thing. It didn't seem possible that it could cause my father any more pain. After a moment I said, “It's no good. You don't even know where the house is.”

“I can find it. I've been in bigger towns than Creston. All you have to do is give me the directions.”

What a hell of a fuss about nothing! I thought. It was beginning to grate on my nerves. “All right!” I said finally. “If it will make you happy, you can drive in and get the medicine you need. I guess it's all right.”

“Of course it's all right,” she said. “The Sheriff doesn't suspect me and Karl. If I should be seen, it wouldn't mean anything.”

“I know all that, and I said it was all right!” I was getting jumpy, much too jumpy. I just wanted to get away from here—far away. That was the only thing I could think of. I walked to the door and said, “I think I'll go to the station.”

Sheldon said, “You'd better send your helper home and close the station yourself when the time comes.” I nodded and went out.

Darkness had settled over that bald Oklahoma prairie, but it was still early and there was plenty of traffic on the highway. As I came around to the front of the station I saw that Ike had washed down the cement driveway by the gas pumps, and now he was spraying water around the station to settle the dust.

I didn't know just what to do about Ike. We were friends and he had been a lot of help to me with the station, and I didn't feel like picking up and leaving him without a word. He turned and grinned when he heard me come up.

“Hot as hell tonight.”

“Yeah.” I went inside and checked the cash register. I took out enough to cover Ike's salary for two weeks and it just about cleaned it out. “Ike,” I called, “can you come here a minute?”

“Sure.” He hung up the water hose and came inside. I handed him the money.

“What's this, Joe?”

“Two week's pay, Ike. It looks like you're out of a job.”

He looked as though he had been slapped. “You mean I'm fired, Joe?”

“I mean the business is on the rocks. You know as well as I do that we've barely made expenses these past few months, if that.”

He stood there for a moment, looking stupid. He scratched his head. “You mean you're throwin' it up, Joe? You're quittin'?”

“There's nothing left to do. If you can't make this kind of business pay during the tourist season, then you might as well give up.”

He looked uncomfortable as he took the money, folded it slowly, and put it in his pocket. “By golly, Joe, I'm sorry to hear it. I kind of liked working out here. You've been a good boss.”

“Thanks, Ike.”

“If there's anything I can do...”

“Just one thing, Ike.” I counted out forty dollars, most of it from my pocket. “This is what I owe the gas company on the last delivery. Will you contact them tomorrow and pay them off?”

His forehead wrinkled at that one. “Ike,” I said, “I'm just sick of this place. When I close up tonight I don't want to have to look at it or think about it again. Maybe I'll just pack up and go fishing or something. Anyway, I'd appreciate it if you'd take care of the gasoline people.”

“Well, sure, Joe, if that's the way you want it. I guess I know how you feel. The business has been pretty much of a disappointment, at that, I guess.”

“Ike,” I said, “that's the understatement of the year.”

I had expected something of a fuss, or at least a pep talk, for Ike was a great one for seeing a thing through to the end. But he was surprisingly calm, as though he had seen it coming from a long way off—and maybe he had.

“Well, Joe...”

“I guess that's it, Ike.”

We said a few more things, none of them making much sense, and finally I got Ike in his Ford and headed him for town.

The last small thread was cut. I was free. Automatically, I began locking up, bringing in the display cases of oil, disconnecting the water hose, locking the pumps. I looked out at the highway and thought: I'm free! Free to go anywhere I damn please!

Far up the highway I could see the lights atop the towering grain elevators. Creston, Oklahoma. If I never saw it again, it would be fine with me.

Just as I finished locking up I heard Paula starting the Buick. She drove around to the front of the station. I went around to the driver's side of the car and thought: Christ, she can be beautiful when she wants to! I'll never forget how she looked at that moment as she reached through the window and traced her fingers lightly over my chest.

“It won't be long now, Joe. Within another hour this town will be behind us.”

“I'm ready.”

“We'll start just as soon as I get back. Just as soon as I pick up the medicine and dressings from your father. You didn't forget to call him, did you?”

“I didn't have a chance. Ike left just a few minutes ago. But I'll do it now, if you're still sure it's necessary.”

“I explained it to you, Joe. It's insurance we've got to have. If Karl's arm should get bad again, we won't find another doctor as co-operative as your father.”

I still didn't like it, but when Paula got hold of something she wouldn't turn it loose without a fight. And right now I didn't feel like a fight. “All right,” I said finally, “I guess you'll have it your way.”

I had to unlock the station again to get to the phone. I got the number and listened to the ringing at the other end, and at last a thousand-year-old voice, a voice without life, said, “Hello.”

“Dad, this is Joe. I've got a little favor to ask of you.”

He didn't say a thing. For a moment I thought he had hung up on me, but then I heard the hum of the open line and knew that he was still there.

“Dad, this is the last thing I'm going to ask of you. Believe me, it is. You know this man you've been treating; well, he and his wife are pulling out tonight. They're pulling out for good and you'll never hear of them again. But the woman wants you to give her some medicine, just in case her husband's arm starts acting up again. I'm sending her over to pick it up. Is that all right?”

There was only the hum of the wire.

“Dad, are you still there?”

“Yes.”

“You'll let her have the medicine, won't you? Sulfa, or whatever you think best.”

“Do I have a choice, Joe?”

I felt like hell. For a moment I just stood there with the receiver in my hand, unable to think of anything else to say, and finally I hung up.

I went outside, where Paula was waiting. “It's all right,” I said. “But make it fast. Don't drag it out any longer than is absolutely necessary. I'm afraid he's had just about all he can take.”

I told her how to get to the house, which wasn't much of a job. The town wasn't big enough to get lost in, and anyway, the streets were clearly marked. She smiled faintly and squeezed my hand, then she put the Buick in gear and left me standing there. God, I thought, I'll be glad when it's over!

After I got the station locked again, I went around to Number 2 to see how Sheldon was doing. He was doing fine. He had his clothes on and was doing some packing as I came in.

“You're looking pretty good,” I said.

He looked at me, then looked away, fast. “I'll feel better when we're away from here.”

“Well, it shouldn't be long now. It won't take Paula long to pick up the medicine.”

He wouldn't look at me. He kept fiddling with a shirt that he was trying to get folded, keeping me behind him. He looked nervous and pale, but I put that down to his sickness.

I said, “You want me to help you with that?”

“No!” He turned on me then, and there was something in those eyes of his that put ice in my veins. “What's the matter with you?” I said. “Nothing! Just get out of here and leave me alone! Do you have to stand there watching me, watching every move I make?”

“Look,” I said, “you're pretty jumpy, aren't you? Hadn't you better just sit down and take it easy?”

I thought for a minute that he was going to spring at me. Then he seemed to go to mush inside. He leaned against the bed, then he sat down and put his face in his hands. I guess that was when the first germ of fear became implanted in my brain. I looked at Sheldon and knew that something was wrong, something was wrong as hell. Here he had just pulled through a serious sickness and within an hour would be on his way to freedom, and he looked like a man getting ready to walk his last mile. I stepped over to him, pushed his head back, and made him look at me.

“What's eating you, Sheldon?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, yes, there is! Something's got its fangs in your guts and I want to know what it is.”

“I tell you it's nothing!”

I think I already knew. In the dark cellar of my mind I knew what it was. Panic's cold feet raced up my spine as I grabbed the front of Sheldon's shirt. I heard myself saying it, before the thought was really clear in my mind.

“Out with it, Sheldon! Does it have anything to do with my father?”

He whined, and I slammed him across the face with the back of my fist.

“Goddamn you, you'd better tell it and tell it fast, or you're going to curse the day you were born! Has it got anything to do with my father?”

But he was too sick and too scared and too weak to make a sound. I hit him again, knowing it was hopeless, knowing that it was a waste of time, but I hit him. His mouth came open and his teeth were red with blood.