Joko (50 page)

Part XIV

JaCk go work

GO WaGun to storE

see cag maN

The next day when they got to town, before going to Gert’s shop Johnny and Jack went to Mitzie’s restaurant looking for Swan. Johnny surveyed the room and spotted Swan sitting at a table near the bar with Doc Hannington and, to his shock and surprise, the railroad agent, Bill Costerson. Johnny didn’t know how to react. Thoughts of betrayal flashed through his mind, but he forced himself to remain composed. He knew, after all, that this could happen any day, and he knew that Swan and Hannington had always been on his side.

Jack stood beside Johnny oblivious to his discomfort, fiddling with a pocketknife Gert had given him that morning.

Swan, who sat facing the door, saw them and raised a hand. “Johnny, Jack, come over here.”

As casually as he could manage, Johnny walked over to the table with Jack close on his heels. When they reached the table Costerson stood up and faced Johnny. He looked him over carefully but, to Johnny’s relief, paid little attention to Jack. The man was smiling cordially.

“None the worse for wear, I see, Mister Tilbury,” said Costerson, extending his hand. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, thanks to Mr Swan,” answered Johnny. Johnny nodded and took the man’s hand.

Costerson glanced at Jack a few times but didn’t seem to recognize him. He was clearly focused on Johnny. Likewise, the sasquatch didn’t seem to recognize Costerson. He stood next to Johnny, examining his new pocketknife. The corkscrew attachment fascinated him.

“And who might you be, Mister Pocketknife?” asked

Costerson. “Ready to uncork some wine, are you? A bit early in the day, isn’t it?”

“This is Jack,” said Johnny. “He came back with Swan and me from Washington State. Lost his family. We think he’s from Sumatra or someplace. We think he got shanghaied and jumped ship somewhere.”

“Interesting,” said the railroad agent, but he never really looked at Jack. He was interested only in Johnny, it seemed.

“You know, Johnny, you cost me some time and trouble. I had some explaining to do to Barnum. The captain of the freighter claimed there was no bear on board his ship. If it wasn’t for Collins' good witness I would have been sued.”

“Collins?” asked Hannington.

“Barnum’s California man. Agent, you’d say. He arranged transport for the bear.”

“So what happened to the bear?” asked Johnny, boldly.

“I thought you’d tell me,” said Costerson, grimly. “It disappeared the same time you did.”

Johnny pretended to be confused. “All I remember is I was on deck ’cause I couldn’t sleep. I was on deck watching them load crates on a boat. It was stormy. Something, a swinging crate hit me. I woke up on the beach at a place called Dungeness. Swan nursed me, fixed my head and my broken leg.”

Costerson looked at Swan. “So he told me. So … um … what about the bear?”

“It was locked in its cage in the hold,” said Johnny. “I figured he’d be in your circus by now.”

“Not my circus.” Costerson studied Johnny. Then he looked at Swan, shrugged his shoulders and smiled affably. “I was hoping you’d tell me, Johnny, but I guess not.” He studied Johnny for a moment and took a deep breath. “I’m sure you realize that Barnum was disappointed. No one likes to spend money and have nothing to show for it. From his viewpoint the animal never existed. So I had a lot of explaining to do, and the other guys, Craig and the rest, had to sign papers to convince old P. T. that he wasn’t being duped. The whole thing got more complicated because the captain of the ship wouldn’t admit to having the animal.

Regulations, I suppose, so I got stuck with the fare for three, from Vancouver to Frisco, where I got off.”

Costerson looked around for sympathy but none seemed forthcoming. “Well,” he said after a long pause, “I have to go back to the depot. Paperwork’s never done.”

“I very much appreciate your taking the trouble to bring the bag back,” said Swan, shaking Costerson’s hand. “It was good to meet you. Sorry about your loss.”

The agent squinted at Johnny. “It’s over with. Barnum’s insurance covered it so he never really lost money. But he lost face, having already publicized Jacko the Dog Faced Boy in the circulars. The New York Times ran an article. Jacko was due to play the sideshow there.”

Johnny cleared his throat. “What did Barnum do?”

“Blamed my sorry hide, for one thing,” said Costerson, laughing. “Drove his agent crazy, for another. Then he hired some out of work actor, slapped him in a monkey suit, and packed him off to New York. I haven’t heard anything since.”

Johnny hung his head.

Costerson smiled strangely. “Not to worry, John. I can’t hold you responsible, can I? You earned your money.

Anyway, it was good to see you alive and well.” Costerson looked at Jack and smiled politely. “Hope you find your way back home.” With that he donned his bowler hat, nodded to Swan and Hannington, and left the restaurant.

Johnny wiped his forehead. “I came over to see how you were doing. I had no idea
he
was here. What brought him here?”

Swan held up a green canvas bag. “Jack left this on the train. It contained a number of my books and a letter for your aunt.”

Relief spread over Johnny’s features like sunlight from behind a cloud. “Oh,” he said, sitting down at the table and putting his head in his hands.

Jack remained standing, facing the door.

“Sit down, Jack,” said Johnny, touching Jack’s shoulder.

“There’s room now.”

Jack pointed to the door. “Cage man.”

That afternoon Johnny turned Costerson’s statements over and over in his mind as he helped his aunt take inventory at her shop. Meanwhile, Jack kept busy bagging unsold winter goods and putting them in boxes.

The meeting with Costerson was like the dropping of the proverbial ‘other shoe’. Now Johnny was beginning to think that Swan’s predictions were true. Costerson was that proof.

If there was anyone Johnny could think of who would be likely to recognize the sasquatch, it would be the man who’d lost money because of him. But Costerson barely noticed Jack.

That night, because they’d worked a long day, and had sold some expensive dresses, his aunt decided they should eat in town. They found Swan and had a relaxed meal at Mitzie’s Restaurant. They all ate pot roast except Jack, who had developed a fondness for Mitzie’s vegetable stew.

Swan had been wanting to explore the region. Over dessert and coffee he said he had an announcement. “Now that the Costerson issue has settled, I’ve decided to see a bit of this fair land of yours before I leave. You can relax a bit now, Johnny, and quit that fretting you’re gettin’ so good at.

Maybe even get on with your life. As for me, I’ve come to the end of my usefulness.” Swan proposed a toast, with a raised coffee cup, to Jack and to Johnny for successfully

‘acquainting Jack with the human race’.

The next morning he left with little fanfare, saying he’d return in a few days. While he was gone, Johnny finally met with his friends Ned and J. C. Craig, the train conductor. Ned had left the railroad and gotten a job in Lytton as a clerk, but Craig still worked for the railroad and told Johnny that his part-time coalman’s job was still open. But Johnny declined.

He told them that his aunt needed him in the store.

June was progressing, the climate turning unusually warm, and Johnny was glad to be at work out of the sun. Still, he remembered fondly the moments spent behind the steam engine, laughing at the engineer’s jokes and watching the wilderness roll by. But a coalman’s work is hot and dirty in summer. Better to be hefting bolts of fabric and opening doors for the ladies of town.

Ned had a girlfriend he called Pretty Polly who often shopped in Yale. She and her mother were among the first to patronize ‘Gertrude’s Dress Shoppe’, and the first to buy a formal dress for the school graduation dance.

It was inevitable that the young girls who shopped there would notice a nineteen-year-old boy like Johnny, working in a dress shop. Johnny was no different from any other boy his age, but he had little experience with girls. He found them desirable but very mysterious. They would catch his eye and giggle when he answered their questions. He wondered if he seemed as stupid as he sometimes felt around them.

Jack worked in the back of the store, swept up the clippings, and dusted the shelves. He also kept the fire in the Franklin stove going on rainy days. He generally avoided contact with people. Girls who noticed him lost interest instinctively, turning their attention to Johnny.

It was inevitable that the day would come when Pretty Polly would enter the store with a special friend and Johnny would succumb to his instincts. The special friend turned out to be a girl that Johnny had sat next to in sixth grade at the Lytton school. Her name was Virginia Pease. Tall, sandy haired, and comely, he knew her only as Ginny. Johnny didn’t recognize her when he noticed her and Polly through the window, crossing the street, but something sparked in him when two girlish ‘Hello’s’ announced their entrance. His senses went on full alert.

“Hi Johnny,” said Polly. “What are you doing?”

Johnny barely noticed Polly. All he could see was her friend. And all he could manage was: “Oh, nothin’.”

Virginia Pease stood perhaps half a head taller than Polly.

Her silky blonde hair looked like liquid gold. When she moved closer to the desk where he was working, a ray of sunshine passed over her. For the rest of his life Johnny remembered that moment and never saw her any other way.

Their eyes met. All he could remember later was that they were blue. Polly introduced her as Virginia but it was only when she later called her ‘Ginny’ that Johnny remembered her from school.

His jaw dropped open. “Oh … We were in Miss

Henkshaw’s class.”

Ginny smiled, plainly pleased they had something in common. “I remember. You were always looking out the window … watching the birds.” She giggled and put her fingers to her lips.

Johnny blushed. “I was? Guess I was, at that.”

“Oh … I like birds too. Do you work here?” she asked, quickly sensing his unease. Polly looked around the store, pretending to be unconscious of their conversation. She walked over to a rack of blouses at the back of the store and began thumbing through them, but Ginny didn’t follow.

Johnny fought through the unfamiliar soup that had become his mind to find some appropriate words. “Uh … do you still live in Lytton?” he finally managed.

Jack was sweeping the far side of the store. He could sense the change in Johnny. He knew that this was no casual encounter.

Jack was fascinated. Just like Pretty Polly, his instincts recognized the courting dance even though it was unfamiliar to him. He’d seen it among his people, but only in glimpses.

To the reclusive sasquatch, love lives are extremely private.

Sex and all it entailed was unknown to him. Jack, the Aooo, was never popular with the girls of his kind.

Here in the store, sweeping among the racks of clothes, Jack saw no courting field, no bower full of berries and sweet wildflowers. Wood and clothes. And the only sweet smells came from sachets and from the bodies of the women who shopped there.

Gert was in the back of the store, making alterations. Every so often she would lean forward over her sewing machine and cast a critical eye at the front of the store. This time she noticed Johnny, frozen behind the counter talking to Polly’s friend. Polly herself was casually thumbing through blouses nearby.

“Hello, Polly,” said Gert. “Can we help you with anything?”

Polly came to the curtain and rolled her eyes significantly at Gert, then looked back at Johnny and Virginia. “I don’t think Johnny can be of much help at the moment,” she said, giggling softly.

Gert got up to get a better look. Like Jack, she didn’t need a second glance to see what was happening. She coughed to get Johnny’s attention but he still didn’t move.

Ginny was telling Johnny how her family had moved away from Lytton when she was in the eighth grade, but she was back, living at her grandparents’ farm near Yale.

“What happened to your parents?” asked Johnny.

Ginny looked away. The glow on her cheeks seemed to vanish.

“They died. A fire.”

“I’m sorry. I … My folks are gone, too.”

“Did they die?”

“My mom died when I was young. Aunt Gert raised me after my dad … went away.”

“Where did he go?”

Suddenly Johnny found himself thinking about his dad, something he’d taught himself to avoid. “I don’t know. He just went away.”

Ginny smiled faintly. “It must be worse not knowing.”

“He’s still alive,” said Johnny. “I might see him someday.

You never know. It’s harder for you.”

Gert watched the young couple wistfully, remembering her youth. Finally her instincts as a parent and shop owner moved her to action. “Are you going to stand there talking all day, Johnny, or are you going to finish the inventory?”

Johnny blinked. He looked around the store and his eyes met Jack’s. “Duty calls.”

Ginny walked over without a word to where Polly was standing. They shared a few whispers, then Polly looked at Johnny and smiled.

Johnny looked back at Jack, who had resumed his sweeping.

“Polly, Virginia … Ginny … I want you to meet my friend Jack,” he said. “He’s from far away, you know.”

Hearing his name, Jack looked up from his sweeping and found himself confronting two young girls. He held out his hand to Ginny and she immediately took it.

“Hello, Jack,” she said.

“Hello,” said Jack nervously, with a dip of his head and a slight grin
.

After nodding to Jack, Polly sniffed the air almost imperceptibly and stepped away to examine some dresses.

Johnny noticed but gave no reaction.

When she took his hand, Ginny looked into Jack’s eyes.

Later, when Johnny eventually told her the truth about Jack, she would remember the strangeness of the moment, the feeling of intense empathy or even recognition. Johnny saw the same look in Ginny’s eyes he saw in nearly everyone’s when they linked with the sasquatch. By now he knew Ginny would love Jack or fear him. He couldn’t help holding his breath.