Red Sky at Morning (10 page)

"Hey, Parker," Venery Ann said. "Did you bring your car?"

"You shut your whorin' mouth," Cloyd said, "or I'll lay a gunstock across your butt. You boys, you just stand right there while I lock these two strumpets up in the storeroom."

"You got enough gas for a good long drive?" Velva Mae asked. "Me and Venery want to ride that big wheel."

"I got half a tank," Parker said. "Mr. Cloyd, the movie starts in about thirty minutes, and we better start now, if it's okay with you. How's your leg?"

"You never mind my leg, you little stinkpot, or I'll throw you and that jellybean friend of yours in the cesspool."

The girls squeezed between their father and the door frame and joined us, wearing cotton print dresses and knee-high wading boots, and carrying their city shoes in their hands. "We'll be home around twelve or one, Papa," Venery Ann said.

"And you better come back in the state of purity you left in, you little chippy, or I'll sell you to an Ay-rab whoremaster."

We waded back to the car while Cloyd yelled curses at us. Velva Mae held my hand and told me she'd ridden in a Lincoln once in Las Cruces, and still got the shivers from it, it was that dreamy. She said she'd swallow her pride for tonight for a ride in Parker's Plymouth, because it was wartime. We put our boots in the trunk, changed to more civilized footwear, and started back to Sagrado.

"The whole car smells like fish," Venery Ann complained.

"We can always walk," Parker told her.

"I don't mind a little old fish smell," she said.

We saw a movie about Sergeant York. Velva Mae said she couldn't understand how a big hero like Gary Cooper would come back and marry a little flat-chested thing like Joan Leslie when he had all those bazoomy French girls to choose from. Parker and Venery Ann spent most of the movie kissing each other and going out to the lobby for Black Crows and popcorn. When we'd seen the cartoon twice, we walked across the street to Rumpp's Pharmacy and choked down some mooncakes and strawberry malts. It was nearly ten when we returned to the Plymouth.

"We got two, three hours yet," Velva Mae said. "Let's go up to North Hill and watch the moon come up."

"It looks like snow," Parker said. "Can't see the moon tonight."

"I can always go right back in the movie and find somebody else to give me a ride," she said. "We gonna drive or not?"

We drove slowly to the top of North Hill, the site of a fort the Americans built when they first took Sagrado away from the Mexicans a hundred years before. If there had ever been a fort there, it had since disappeared completely. There wasn't even an outline; just a wide flat space on a hill that looked south over the town, with piñon and juniper trees scattered around. At night, there were cars or pickup trucks parked behind most of the trees. Steenie and I had walked up there one night, and whenever we kicked a stone or brushed against a tree branch, startled faces popped up from back seats to identify the disturbance. "If the entire nation operated on the North Hill plan," Steenie had said, "we'd have a larger population than China in twenty-five years."

Parker pulled his Plymouth behind a broad juniper, and opened a window to air out some of the fish odor. The sky was covered with low, thick clouds, and neither moon nor stars were visible. The lights of Sagrado were only a sprinkle; we didn't have to dim out that far inland, but there was no night life in the town and people tended to go to bed early. I put my arm around Velva Mae, whose sharp little teeth were chattering.

"It's pretty up here, isn't it?" I said, making some of the brilliant drawing-room repartee for which I was famous on three continents.

"If you're gonna try to make out, you better not talk," she said. "I don't like a lot of conversation."

Parker put his elbow on the back of the front seat and turned to face us. "My package came in from Tennessee," he said. "Cost me three-fifty plus postage, but it sure is worth it."

"That's great," I said. "Why don't you tell Venery Ann about it?"

"Shoot, she's not interested, are you, Venery?"

"Uh uh," she agreed.

"I'm not interested neither," Velva Mae told him, "so why don't you just turn around and get to doin' whatever you got in mind?"

"It's not something that would interest a girl," Parker continued, "but old Josh is interested."

I took my arm from around Velva Mae's neck. "Okay," I said to Parker, "I'm all ears. What did you get from Tennessee that cost three-fifty plus postage? I haven't eaten a thing for three days just worrying about it."

"I got a half-pint of fox urine," he said triumphantly. "I figure it to last me the whole winter."

"If you drink it real slowly," I said, "it might last you two winters."

Velva Mae had started slightly beside me, and was looking at Parker as if he'd just sprouted snapdragons from his ears. "You got a half a pint of what?"

"Fox urine," he said. "Vixen urine from Tennessee foxes."

"You mean ... pee?"

Parker looked injured. "In game conservation work, we call it urine. We use a lot of biological terms like that."

"I think it's cheap of you to hog it all to yourself, Park," I said. "Shouldn't you share the good stuff with your friends? I'll pay my half."

"What in the world would you do with that?" Venery Ann asked from the gloom of the front seat.

"Bait fox traps with it," Park said. "What else would I do with it?"

"Are you tryin' to make fun of us?" Velva Mae said.

"We may be country, but we don't have to stand for nasty talk."

"You see what happens when you try to have a little intelligent conversation," Park said to me. "The girls get all foolish and start dancing around calling names."

"You can drive us home right now, Parker Holmes," Velva Mae said.

I grabbed at her and tried to get back in our former position, with my arm around her. "You don't want to go now," I said. "We just got here. The moon hasn't even started to rise yet."

"Well. . . ." I could tell that Velva Mae didn't really want to go home. I kissed her and she bit me lightly on the lower lip, not too painfully. Parker wasn't concentrating on Venery Ann. He was still half turned in his seat, with an arm hooked over the back, looking at us.

"At three-fifty for a half a pint, I make it fourteen dollars a quart. That's a lot more expensive than whiskey."

"Don't pay any mind to him," Velva Mae whispered into my ear, and then nipped me on the ear lobe and ran her fingers around the scar on my temple. "How'd you get that little scar?"

"A doctor took out a piece of skull to look inside. Said he'd never seen anything like it in thirty years of medical practice. Say, why don't you bite the other ear for a while? I think this one's starting to bleed."

"I dearly love to chew on boys," Velva Mae said. "Here, you stay where you're at, and I'll scrunch over." She heaved herself up and sat on my lap, and slid off slowly to the other side. "That was fun," she said. "Let's have a bite off that other ear."

"Don't you go marking him up," Venery Ann said from the front seat, where she was fiddling with the dials on the dashboard. "Hey, Parker. Where's the headlights?"

"It's that little knob right there," he told her. "Don't go turning it on. You'll run down the battery."

"I'll just give it a little flip," she said. "I want to see who all's in that car up ahead." She turned the lights on briefly, and illuminated a 1934 La Salle with a broken rear window. "I bet they're cold in there with their clothes off and all that air comin' in."

"That's Chango in that car, isn't it?" Parker said. "He must be following you around."

"Let's get out of here, Park," I said. "I don't want to get blood all over your car."

"You're not afraid of Chango Lopez, are you?" Velva Mae said. "I thought you were a man."

"One of the things that doctor saw when he looked inside my head was that I was a
gallina
. Come on, Park, let's go."

Parker turned on the motor and the girls began to whine. "There isn't no place else to park," Velva Mae said. "There's policemen all over with flashlights, lookin' in at you."

"If we don't leave right now," I said, "I'm taking off on foot down the hill. The last time I saw Chango he and a friend of his were waving knives around."

Parker backed around through a clump of juniper and started down the hill. Velva Mae pushed me away and sat close against the back door with her arms folded, pouting. I took out my handkerchief and wiped off my ears, which were sore and wet. "I'm sorry, Velva Mae," I said. "You don't want me to get killed, do you? What's the fun of that? You'd be a witness, and have to answer questions in court. Some smart lawyer would say 'Miss Cloyd, the body of the deceased showed forty-three stab wounds in the chest and abdomen and a chewed condition of both ear lobes. Would you tell the court, please, whether. . . .

"You just run on, Arnold, and my daddy'll jump up and down on you when we get back to the house, if I tell him to. I'm not ever goin' out with you again."

We made the long trip back to the Cloyds'
cienega
in silence, and it began to snow before we got there. "This is going to be the first big one," Parker said. "That one back at Fiesta time was just a starter. Be eight, ten inches on the ground by tomorrow morning."

"It sure gets cold in that old swamp in winter," Venery Ann said. "I wish Daddy'd move into the city, but he likes it out there. He says he can always hear people coming through the water, and no one can sneak up on him and steal his pigs."

We all put on our boots for the long hike through the
cienega,
and went single file. I tripped once and fell on my knees and hands, and Velva Mae giggled. I was freezing and wet when we got to the darkened Cloyd house, and said good night to the girls. Venery Ann and Parker kissed each other.

"I'm not gonna kiss you," Velva Mae said. "You're all wet."

The front door snapped open and Mr. Cloyd put his head out. "You're goddamn rootin' tootin' you ain't gonna kiss him good night, you little two-bit tart. You get your little tail inside right now or I'll put a boot up it."

"That's Daddy," she told me, as though the fact weren't already clear. "I think I better go in. Come on, Venery."

"Good night," I said.

"Good night."

"See you at school."

"You two little whoiehoppers better move out smart or I'll start kickin' asses," Mr. Cloyd bellowed. When Parker and I were halfway back to the car, we could still hear him, yelling at us through the night: "Them two girls better be pure!"

A letter came from Dad:

Dear Josh,
Well, I was a little afraid of that, but Jimbob's harmless, at best, and at worst he's irritating. You probably don't know this, but he hasn't got a nickel of his own; his family was a power before Reconstruction, but the Buels sold their land in the 1880s at something like two dollars an acre. Jimbob's four years at the University of Virginia took care of the last of it, and he's been a semi-professional house guest ever since. He has many talents and no skills, and the sort of short-lasting charm which comes from having learned good manners as an exercise. He's a useless man, intelligent enough to know it and decent enough to hate himself for it. It's difficult to say what your role should be in this. Just be yourself, and I hope I'm not unleashing a monster by saying that.
You may use the FPO address from now on. I'm executive officer on a DE (that's a destroyer escort, as if you didn't know) and never mind where. I'm also the ship's censor, and read everyone's mail. I'll be happy to tell you about some of the hair-raising things sailors write to their wives and girlfriends when you're old enough, say in about forty years.
If you haven't already met him, look up an old friend of mine named Romeo Bonino. He's a sculptor and Uves, or used to live, on Camino Chiquito with a girl named Georgine. It was Georgine two years ago, at any rate. The civil arrangement is always rather loose-jointed at his place, if you know what I mean. Your mother can't stand him, for various reasons. You'll like him, I think. In a strange way, he may be a good influence on you.
The Armed Forces Radio Service says there was a big storm over the Rockies a few days ago. How do you like snow, you swamp rat?
Enclosed check is for Amadeo. Don't make deals with him; just give it to him.
Love,
Captain Bligh

And a letter from Courtney Ann Conway:

Dear Josh,
How are you? I am fine. I've been sailing a lot because it's still warm, and Bubba says to tell you hello. School is as much fun as always (ha ha, joke). The paper said there was a German submarine in the bay the same day we were out in the sloop but it didn't sink us. All the niggers are working at the plants and making just scads of money and Daddy says it's going to ruin the economy. Bye now.
Lotsalove,
Corky

And a letter from Lacey:

Dear Little Boss,
Paul and I are both working full-time and over-time at the boat plant, sometimes 60 hrs. a week making as much as $110 each and saving up to buy a house in Rosewood for after the War. Your Daddy said he'd carry our paper when he got back but at the rate we're going he might not have to. We get letters right along from your Daddy and a check sometimes also. Looks like you forgotten how to write. It's been some hot here all along right through the middle of October and isn't rained hardly any so the crawfish holes has dried up and they're bringing 49¢ a pound, hows the crawfishing out where you are? Paul says are you getting into that wine like before.
Love and kisses to your Mother,
Lacey Robinson
XXXXXXXX

This is Paul writing now. Lacey is still snapping mackerel and she's going to be the biggest thing in the Church maybe Pope. Like in the song, I'm a Methodist till I die, but come Friday Lacey still cooks up Pompano and man, who can call that fasting? Lacey says if I go Catholic I get a spot in heaven and I sure hope it's cooler than what it is here in Mobile.
Your friend,
Paul