In An Arid Land (27 page)

Marie looked at me like she wanted me to commit to something, so I asked her what it was and she said she didn't know, "exactly," which was a lie plain enough, and then we talked of other matters as she drove us out of town.

She told me how she hated her job and how, though he had a knack for coming up with money, it seemed David could never find anything but temporary work, and how Crissy had grown tall like her daddy but hadn't outgrown the problem with her lungs, and how that afternoon she would have to leave work again to take Crissy to a doctor's appointment. She told me all kinds of things. And I had that uneasy feeling you get when you arrive some place and realize that the people have been living on their own all the time you've been gone without pausing to wait for you, and that you've waded into something that's like a swiftly moving river full of water and debris that have come from far away. We were easy with each other, telling stories and catching up, but when we rolled into the yard her eyes cut to me and held on. She smiled like a sister. She touched my arm. Her fingers rubbed the material of my uniform and then she squeezed my hand, and she looked as happy to have me as I was to be there.

The house was small but sturdy, with stone walls and a tin roof, an old ranch house that the owner rented to them for next to nothing. She said it was a bargain David had made for some work he did. Out back a stand of mesquites shaded a barbecue pit and a Honda motorcycle that was under repair. Toys and tools were all around. On the kitchen table waited two buckets of Kentucky Fried Chicken and hanging from tape between them was a paper napkin with WELCOME HOME JOHNNY BOY printed on it in red crayon. Under the table lay old Shepherd Fred who didn't move except to thump his tail when Marie spoke his name out of habit and a natural politeness that extended even to dogs and bums.

"I'm afraid it's not much of a party," she said. "But I remembered you loved the Colonel's chicken." Then she yelled, "David, where are you, man, look who's here," and before it was out of her mouth he was standing in the doorway, grinning stupidly amid the haggard flabby skin on his face and the matted waves of dark hair on his head, and at almost the same instant I caught the smell of marijuana which had come in with him. Marie smelled it, too, because her face fell right down to her chest and her eyes showed anger, over it being so early in the day, I suppose.

But all of that was lost in David's booming talk. He snapped to attention and saluted me and he said, "By God, it's him, all dolled up like a general and covered in a hero's medals and looking like he could whip Cassius Clay with one arm tied behind his back." At first I thought he was mocking me there was something in the tone of his voice but then it changed and he was on me, shaking my hand and slapping my back in a big way as if we'd been best of friends all our lives. He gave me a bear hug and a "Whoopee!" and the dog hefted up to put in his two bits, barking and rubbing up against David and me, and there was the feeling of warm and friendly mayhem in a warm and friendly place. Marie was grinning at David by then. She shook her head in that manner women have which says I love you in spite of yourself, and I could see that she was hoping we'd hit it off together again.

David said, "You didn't tell him the surprise, did you?"

"No, I certainly did not," Marie said and she gave me a we've-got-a-secret look. She was about to go on with something when David interrupted too loudly with a "sit down here and take a load off and eat some of this good food," and Marie had to step in again, saying I might like to clean up first and relax.

"Why sure," he said, swaying a bit and holding on to the table for support. Then he sat down at the table and just stared at me with that stoned grin. So Marie showed me to Crissy's room and told me to make myself comfortable as Crissy would be sleeping with them for a while.

"Consider it yours till you get on your feet," she said.

It was a narrow bed, a kid's bed, but it was soft and folded around me like no military cot had ever done, and I intended to rest there for just a moment. Well, the next thing I knew David was standing over me, blocking the ceiling light, barking wake-up slogans like a drill sergeant, and when I dragged myself up I could tell it was quite dark outside.

We ate cold chicken and sent it down with two six packs of Dos Equis in the heavy brown bottles which they kept raising high to toast my return to the world. Then David rolled a number from what he called his "special reserve." By the time the dishes were in the sink we were all smiling and laughing, telling tales on each other, and then little Crissy started wanting to know when we were going to go see the surprise for Uncle John.

So David said, "Well, how about right now."

The four of us squeezed into the truck and David drove us back through town to the highway where we headed north. When I saw the eerie blue lights of the Alpine Regional Airport it came to me what the surprise was.

"Isn't she a sight," David said as the headlights lit up the plane, an old four-place job with the wings below the cockpit. It looked pretty scraped up. The windshield was cracked and one of the tie-downs was kicking in the breeze. "I call her Easy Rider," David said with a smile.

I asked him how he had come to own it and his smile really bloomed then: "Swapped for some work time and a little cash." To which Marie added, "A little cash, my foot, it was everything we'd put away," and I could tell this was still a sore point between them. When I asked how it handled, they were silent for a long time until Crissy mumbled, "It gots to be fixed."

Then David threw in, "That's what I've been wanting to talk to you about, Johnny." And all at once they were after me, telling me how this was our ticket to a future. If the plane were running, they said, David knew he could eventually set up enough commuter and cargo business that within a few years we could be working several planes between Alpine and El Paso and a number of points in between. They mentioned a dozen grand ideas. "And here's the mondo banana," David said. "Mexico! There's the real money. I'm talking the future now, once you've learned to fly."

"How much would it take?" I asked and they went silent again, glancing at each other, till David said, "Twelve-hundred."

"But I've only got a thousand."

"I can get the rest, no problem."

"That money's all I've got in the world, David."

"Make it nine-hundred then, and I promise I'll have it back to you within a month, and with plenty of interest to boot."

The feeling in the close confines of the truck cab at that moment was that there was much more to it than I'd been told. And I wasn't positive I was going to stay in Alpine even for a month. There was always Houston where I still had friends. But here were their hopeful faces, staring at me in the back glow of the headlights, and little Crissy sitting on my lap.

Marie said, "You don't have to, now, Johnny."

"That's right," said David. "There's no pressure being applied here. You do what you got to do."

But here were their faces, tired out from work and worry and hard living, and the buzz was wearing off for all of us.

Crissy put her head against my chest and I could feel her little body breathing, hear the faint wheeze in her lungs. I said, "Well, why not," and their eyes shone with relief and joy, and there was lots of expensive talk out of David on the way home.

II

So Alpine became my new address and I more or less settled in. I bought clothes and a clock radio and even began to scout around for a place to live once we got the business going.

David was in and out over the next few weeks as he scrambled for engine parts and the best deals on labor for the work he couldn't do himself. I occupied my time with repairing the motorcycle, which had been thrown in as part of the payback for my 900 dollars, and we went drinking in the bars at night after Crissy had been put to bed. I would pester David about his progress with the plane and he usually muttered something about a hydraulic valve or the carburetor and he would go on to other topics, vague things about the bright outlook for our lives. It was funny, we never talked about the war, other than to mention the places we had been and how glad we were that it was over for us. And even with just that little bit Marie would say, "That's enough now, let's talk about something else."

Then the big day came. I had gone up into the mountains on the motorcycle that afternoon, just to see them again and to think. It was dark when I got home, but the house was all lit up and in a real stir. Marie jumped on me immediately, wanting to know where I'd been, telling me that David had flown the plane.

"It's fixed," she said.

Then she disappeared into the back of the house. The smell of Mentholatum was heavy in the air and I could see the vaporizer spewing out mist back in their bedroom. Which meant Crissy'd had one of her attacks. Shepherd Fred wandered out to greet me and his old cloudy eyes seemed to be asking for help. Marie said David was waiting for me at the airport. When I asked about Crissy she glared at me as if I were the cause of her problems.

"She needs to go to the hospital, but we don't have the money, of course, and no insurance, of course, and the doctor won't speak to us anymore because we owe him so much" She caught herself, let out a breath full of weariness. "Go on down there and take your ride and for God's sake be careful."

The plane was ready to go when I arrived, and it was making quite a racket. In the cockpit we could communicate only by yelling and pointing with our hands. All the seats were missing except the pilot's, so I had to sit on a crate and just hang on as best I could.

It was a beautiful sight once we crested the hills and David turned us south away from the town. A crescent of purple sunset was still glowing above the western horizon and the desert was a dark, ragged carpet below us. Soon David tapped my arm and hollered, "Spicville," pointing straight ahead, his face and hand shining green in the lights of the control panel. He banked it hard around to the north and took us home to a rough landing; we bounced and I heard scraping sounds behind me. David said there was plenty of work left to do, but the engine was sound and the plane solid enough to start earning a return on our investment.

"If we play it right," he said in the bar where we had gone to celebrate, "if we play it right, and act quickly, we could make enough next week to set us up for a long time to come."

I asked him what he meant and he looked at me across the table with the face of a man who is still trying to decide something. He said, "Smuggling," and then he pulled back from the table, sitting up straight and proper as if to distance himself from the word. In a whisper he told me he had been in touch with a rancher up in the mountains who had fallen on hard times and was looking for a way to save his spread. The rancher had made contact with some business associates in Mexico.

"To put it simply," he said, "I'm talking a dope deal."

"Has this been your plan all along?" I asked and he nodded yes. "You mean I've already invested in a smuggling operation?"

He said, "Now listen, Johnny, like the old saying goes, it takes money to make money, and how the hell else would we get started? This is my chance, man. Let's face it, the only thing in my life that I've ever done right is fly airplanes. One deal like this is all we need.

"And there's another little item. Your sister's a wonderful woman. She took me out of the dirt and cleaned me off, and I've tried to take care of her because of it. But I'll tell you, unless something changes for us soon, I don't know how long we can last." He said, "And no telling what would happen then."

"You should have told me, David."

"Well, maybe I should have," he said. "But you never know about people, Johnny, how they've changed or whatever. I mean, I'm telling you all this on trust, you know. Nothing but trust."

Then we just sat there staring at the table until I asked him for more details. But he said no, he wasn't going to tell me any more, just in case. "Look, it's a good deal," he said. Most of it had been worked out, he told me, and there was very little risk: simply a matter of hopping down to a place in Mexico, hopping back to Alpine and then waiting a few days to collect our share. He said, "If nothing else it's a way for you to help your sister and Crissy. You could look at it that way, if you'd like."

"Does Marie know about this?" I asked.

"The question right now is you. Are you in?"

I told him that I'd have to think about it, to which he said, "Fine. That's fine. But time is short." He seemed to be watching me for something as if he were wondering whether he should have told me about it, as if he wasn't sure he trusted me now, now that I knew. "You'll keep it quiet, of course," he said.