Song of the Road (7 page)

She had known Mr. Santez since she was a little girl. He had been a good friend to her father. He probably knew, as much as anyone, what had been going on at the motor court before and after her father died. The short, bald man came from the back of the gas station, wiping his hands on a greasy rag. Her father used to say that you seldom saw a bald-headed Mexican, but then, he reasoned that Mr. Santez was only half.

“Well, well. Mary Lee. I heard you were back.”

“Hello.” She offered her hand. “How is the family?”

“All good. Last one leaves school this year.”

Four of the Santez children had already graduated from high school, an accomplishment of which the Santez family was terribly proud.

“Tell them all hello for me.”

“I will. Glad yo’re back, Mary Lee. It’s time ya took a hand up there. Cross Roads needs for folks to have a reason to stop here.”

“I know. I’m going to try to get it back to where it was when Daddy was alive.”

“I’ll speak plain for yore daddy’s sake. Ya got to get rid of that trash yore ma’s got hangin’ around.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to do it. Mama rented out two of the cabins by the month. If I try to throw Frank Pierce out, she’ll say she rented it to him by the year. The other one, Mr. Ramero, rented for four months and paid her in advance. Mama must have needed cash money pretty bad.”

“Jake Ramero is a rough, hard man, all right, but he ain’t as bad as some folks believe. He don’t bother anybody if they don’t bother him. He was in this morning a-buyin’ gas. Doin’ bridge work, he said.”

“I won’t get any money for that cabin or for the one Frank Pierce is in all summer. It means I’ll have just four cabins to rent. I’ll have to keep them rented every night.”

“It’s the only place along here, Mary Lee. Some folks don’t want to turn in to town to go to the hotel. I stopped sending folks to your court when it got so run-down. Folks won’t stay in a dirty place.”

“And I don’t blame them. It’ll be different now. If I’ve got a cabin to rent, it’ll be clean. Right now I’d like to use your phone to call Mr. Collins at the furniture store and see if I can get a mattress. Someone burned a big hole in the one in number three. I’m surprised the whole place didn’t burn down.”

“You go right ahead and help yourself.”

“As soon as I can, I’ll have ours connected again.”

Mary Lee went into the station and lifted the receiver from the box on the side of the telephone and asked the operator to ring Collins Furniture Store.

“Mr. Collins, this is Mary Lee Clawson. I’m back home now, and running the motor court. I need a mattress and I’d like to pay five dollars down and a dollar a week until it’s paid for.”

She listened intently to the man on the other end of the line for a long while. Color came to her cheeks.

“I know all that, Mr. Collins. And no, I have not talked to Mr. Clawson and I don’t intend to. It’s none of his business what goes on out at the court. Being his son’s widow does not give him authority over me. I want to make it perfectly clear that he is not responsible for my bills,” Mary Lee said heatedly.

After a pause, she said, “There are changes being made. I have the money to pay for the mattress, but I don’t think it wise not to have a little put back. I’m renting the cabins for a dollar and a half a night. I should be able to pay you more than the dollar a week.”

She looked at Mr. Santez. He was motioning to her. She put her hand over the mouthpiece.

“I’ll pay for the mattress and you can pay me if that penny-pincher won’t give you credit.”

Mary Lee’s shoulders slumped with relief. “All right, Mr. Collins. I’ll pay for the mattress. Fifteen dollars? Will you bring it out today? Thank you.”

Mary Lee hung up the phone and leaned her forehead on the mouthpiece for a minute before she turned to her father’s old friend.

“He knew about the loan Daddy took from the bank before he died. He asked me if I had paid it off.”

“He and the banker are thick as thieves.”

“He said the mattress was fifteen dollars cash but twenty dollars if paid for on time, and he would have to think about giving me credit.”

“He’s a shyster, is what he is.”

“Thank you for the loan, Mr. Santez. I’ll pay you as much as I can each week.”

Mr. Santez dug his wallet from the bib of his overalls and gave her a ten-dollar bill.

“I’ll write you out an IOU.”

“No need. Scott helped me out many a time. There’s not a doubt in my mind that you’ll pay me back.”

“Thank you.” Mary Lee had to blink away the tears.

Ollie Santez watched Mary Lee walk back up the highway. The girl had had her share of trouble. Her uncaring sot of a mother was more than likely the reason she had married a man who had no more gumption than a sand hill, just to get out of town. Now she would have a babe to take care of. She had come through it all with her head held high. Surely the breaks would come her way soon.

Jake Ramero sat on the ground, his back to a tree, and ate the sack lunch he had picked up at Ruby’s Diner, where he had eaten his breakfast. He hated the relentless wind that swept down the canyon. His eyes went to the top of the bridge span he had been working on, and his mouth went dry. He fought a constant battle to conquer his fear of heights. He had been successful so far; but as soon as he got the money he needed, he swore that he would never climb another damn girder.

His thoughts went back to the woman at the motor court. She was like the sprigs of mountain flowers that grew out of the rocks along the canyon walls: perky, pretty, promising life.

How would it be to walk with her, her hand in his, take care of her, make love to her in every way a man makes love to his woman — to caress the mound of her unborn child, catch the babe as he came into the world? If she were his, he would fight for her, work for her. She and the child would be his to love and to cherish.

Dear God! Where had those thoughts come from?

He didn’t want to be attracted to her.
He wished desperately that he had found something about her to dislike. She was not a ravishing beauty, but there was gentleness about her, an innate femininity and dignity. He didn’t want even to like her, but he found himself drawn to her like a mouse to a baited trap.

Why in hell did she have to be Bobby’s widow?

He closed his eyes to will the image of her away and, instead, pictured her again as she had been this morning: a man’s shirt covering her pregnancy, her hair pulled back and held with a ribbon, her cheeks flushed and eyes open and honest, blue as the sky.

He threw an apple core far out into the brush alongside the riverbank. He wanted nothing to do with her. Hell, it was one thing to have a sexual need, but, Christ on a horse, not with a pregnant woman! Besides, what woman of goodness, gentleness and intelligence would have anything to do with a man who had spent two years in prison?

A bell clanged. He got slowly to his feet, steeling himself to climb the giant girder again.

Chapter 5

B
Y LATE AFTERNOON
the mattress had been delivered and four cabins were clean and ready to rent. Eli had raked along the front of the cabins, and the trash had been picked up. He had helped Mary Lee feed the sheets into the wringer, carried the wet clothes basket and then held the two ends of the sheets together while she fastened them to the clothesline. He had been such a help that when the last cabin was cleaned, she had put her arm across his shoulder.

“I’m so glad you stopped here, Eli. Please don’t leave for a while.”

“If . . . ya don’t want me to.” His face turned a bright red, and he refused to meet her eyes.

The only blot on the day came at noon, while Eli and Mary Lee were sitting at the kitchen table. Dolly came from her room. She was wearing an old wraparound robe. Her hair looked as if she had been in a tornado. Hungover from the night’s drinking spree with Pearl and Frank Pierce, she was in a foul mood.

“Who’re you?” She squinted at Eli.

“This is Eli Stacy, Mama. He’s going to help us for a while.”

“Sh . . . it. Whose kid is he?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Stacy’s,” Mary Lee said, and winked at Eli. “He can get his skinny ass out of here. We ain’t feedin’ no tramps.”

“He’s staying here,” Mary Lee said firmly.

“Not in my house, he ain’t.”

“It’s my house, too, in case you’ve forgotten. I’m setting up a cot in the washhouse.”

“Sh . . . it!”

“Watch your language, Mama,” Mary Lee said sharply.

“You think a kid like that ain’t never heard the word ‘shit’ before?”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s heard it or not. I hate it when you talk trashy.”

“Well, la-dee-da. You sure got uppity all of a sudden.”

“Is Pearl still here?”

“She left last night. Happy now?”

“Sit down and eat, Mama.”

Dolly ignored Mary Lee and opened the icebox. “Not a goddamn thing in there fit to eat.” She filled a glass with ice chips, poured tea from the pitcher on the table and went back to her room.

Mary Lee got up and closed the door to the icebox.

“My mother . . . isn’t well,” she said to Eli. “She’s usually out of sorts in the morning.” When he said nothing, she added, “You may as well know. She drinks.”

“My uncle drank moonshine whiskey.”

“Did you live with him?”

“Little while.”

“When Mama goes on a drinking spree, she keeps at it until she gets good and sick. Then she’ll leave it alone for a while. My daddy spent his life trying to help her. I used to think that she drank because of me. She said many times that she hadn’t wanted to have me, that Daddy made her. He told me to pay no mind to what she said when she was drunk, that she was my mother and I should love her because she gave me life.”

“She’ll run me off.” There was resignation in the young boy’s voice.

Mary Lee put her hand on his arm. “No. She’ll not run you off. You can stay as long as you want. I’m in charge here and I need you.”

It was late evening and Mary Lee was showing a cabin to a couple from Missouri when Jake drove in. He lifted a hand in greeting. She waved back. He parked beside his cabin, then walked behind the other five to the washhouse. Eli was sitting in the open doorway, rubbing his boots with a soft cloth.

Jake’s “few things” to be washed had turned out to be three shirts, two pairs of pants, four pairs of socks and three underdrawers, besides the sheets, pillowcases and towels.

Eli saw the heavy ankle-high, rubber-soled shoes first. He looked up the long legs to the dusty, whiskered face. He got quickly to his feet and placed the boots inside the doorway, out of sight.

Jake looked down at the boy. Memories came rushing back to the time when, after working an entire summer as cook’s helper on a chuck wagon, he had bought his first pair of cowboy boots. Lord, but he had been proud of those boots. Then, to be ornery, a cowhand had spit tobacco juice in one. Jake had run at him, even though the man was twice his size, and butted him in the groin with his head, causing enough pain to lay him out. He’d wanted to kill him; instead he had made an enemy for life. The cowboy, a distant relative of the owner of the ranch, had been so humiliated at being bested by a boy that he swore to get even. The man developed a deep hatred for the boy that existed even fifteen years later.

“I didn’t steal ’em, if that’s what you’re thinkin’,” Eli said belligerently.

“Why would I think that?”

“It’s what most folks think . . . when they see ’em.”

“I’m not most folks, son. I’ve been in your shoes.”

“I’m not your son.”

“I reckon you’re not, but I’d have sworn you’re somebody’s son.”

Eli glared at him. “Well, I ain’t. I ain’t nobody’s and don’t want to be nobody’s. I’m not lookin’ out for nobody but me.”

“Not even Mary Lee?”

“I’ll get your wash.”

“I’d be obliged . . . that is if you can get down off your high horse long enough.”

Eli stepped inside the washhouse and came out with a bushel basket of neatly folded wash.

“Miss Mary Lee said collect a dollar.”

“I don’t guess Miss Mary Lee would give me credit.” “She said collect.”

Jake rammed his hand down in his pocket and came out with a silver dollar. He flipped it up and caught it a time or two, then flipped it to Eli and picked up the basket.

“You stayin’ here nights?”

“Plannin’ on it.”

“Keep an eye on that bird in number one. If he gets smart with Miss Mary Lee, come get me pronto. Understand?”

“Yeah.”

Eli watched him walk away, then sat down on the doorstep and reached for his boots. Jake Ramero must have a reason for thinking the fella in number one was going to be mean to Miss Mary Lee. If he did, he’d fix him. He’d learned a lot about getting even since he’d been fending for himself. Eli figured he owed the lady a lot. His stomach was full, he was clean and he had a place to sleep. It was more than he’d had for several weeks.