Sweet Song (29 page)

Bob waved and walked down the alley. Before entering through the back entrance, he used the out building. On his slow stride back, he heard a scraping sound, like a boot against the dirt. He swung around and advanced right into an oncoming fist. He felt the blow of a stick as well. Then two more punches, one squarely on the back of his skull. He rolled into a ball, but as soon as he hit the ground, he was out.

He dreamed it was dark. He stood alone, not because he wished to, but because no one wanted to stand with him. He tried to see into the dark, straining his eyes until even darker shadows began to appear. This frightened him even more. He whipped around and attempted to find a familiar shape. His head twisted back and forth. There were many shadows overlapping. Then the shadows began to move as though they didn’t want to be recognized. So Bob picked one out and tried to follow its movements, but the shadow blurred.

Bob waited. He had no choice. The sun would soon rise. He could feel it. He could hear the river. When he stopped worrying, the shadows stopped moving about. One at a time they faded and the darkness lightened. Color came into the dream. The color of sunrise and sunset. He watched the horizon. It looked familiar. When he realized where he was, he looked down at Big Leon only he wasn’t dead. He was just lying down. He winked. Laughter came from behind. When Bob turned, Fred Carpenter stood over him, pointing and laughing. Big Leon sat up. Fred Carpenter held out his hand and helped Big Leon get to his feet. They both laughed, leaning back until they almost tipped over and bending forward until their chins almost touched their knees. Bob looked from one to the other. He held the gun. It went off on its own, into the ground. Dirt leaped into the air. The color on the horizon got splattered with mud. Bob’s heart raced. He heard voices, opened his eyes, and saw Hugh standing over him. “The gun,” Bob said.

“They didn’t have one,” Hugh said. “Lucky for you.”

“What happened?” Bob felt sharp pain in his side and all down his neck to the middle of his back. “Where am I?”

“You got jumped. That’s what. And now you’re here. The back of Jimmy Finch’s. Where he lives.”

Bob grabbed his head. “Who was it?”

“Don’t know for sure. I heard an odd thumping that didn’t quit. Bein’ around wood and people, you get used to the sound wood hitting flesh makes. You’re not supposed to hear that sound come from an alley in town.” Hugh laughed. “I ran after that sound and whoever it was run off faster than I could chase them. You were all crumpled on the ground so I pick you up and bring you here. It’s the only place I know was open.”

“That was the kindest thing anyone has done for me.”

“You been good for me, my friend.” Hugh put a hand on Bob’s shoulder. “Rest. I’ll be back after work.” Hugh left the room.

Bob saw curtains on the window, a dresser against a wall. Candles had been lighted and placed around the room. There also stood a small stand next to the bed. A bed. He was lying in a real bed. He had never done that before. He stretched his arms out to his sides. His ribs had been bandaged and his arms were sore. He rolled
his head to the side. A pillow, too. The room smelled fresh and clean. There was also the scent of flowers, but he couldn’t see any in the room. On the stand next to the bed was a book lying on a small white piece of cloth with holes in it. But not just holes as if worn through, but a pattern of holes, a star-like pattern or a snowflake pattern. Bob picked up the book. He read the title: “The Spy,,” by James Fenimore Cooper. He opened to the first page. His head hurt, but it was a physical pain, outside his head, not inside like when he had gotten drunk. He could read with this kind of pain.

In a short while, the glow of sunlight came through the window, lightening the curtain and the room. He stared, the book folded over his index finger and held close to his chest.

A slight knock came and the door opened. “You’re awake.” The woman appeared to be around Jimmy Finch’s age and had the same dusted blond hair and straight, prominent nose. She wore a gingham dress and walked smoothly and elegantly across the floor. She blew out each candle.

Eyeing the book, she said, “You shouldn’t try to read in such little light.” She opened the curtains and let in the morning. She opened the window, too. Clean, fresh air burst into the room. “How are you feeling?”

Bob widened his eyes. “I’m—“

“Your head must hurt. There’s a huge knot back there. At least there was when they brought you in.”

“I’m better,” Bob managed to say.

The woman stepped near Bob.

“I’m Jenny Finch, Jimmy’s sister. I know, Jimmy and Jenny. I’ve heard all the rhymes.” She winked and pulled the edge of the blanket tight near his shoulder. “There’s a Jerry and a Josh. Jimmy got the best of the deal, being first. The rest of us just repeats.” She laughed a quiet, high-pitched laugh almost like a giggle only lasting a bit longer.

Bob couldn’t help laughing with her.

“So, you’re better? You want a little breakfast?”

Bob wasn’t hungry at the moment, but said yes, just so Jenny wouldn’t leave and not return.

“Good. I didn’t want to bring it if you weren’t awake yet.” She pointed to a chair that Bob hadn’t noticed before. “Your friend leave?”

“I suppose he went to work.”

“You suppose?” She laughed again. “Well, I suppose you’re right about that. He sat here all night Jimmy said. I’m not sure he’s going to get much done.”

That reminded Bob. “Jasper,” he said and tried to sit up. The blanket fell to his waist and he realized he was naked. “Oh. Who?”

“Not me, I can tell you that,” she said with a sly grin and a slight flush of her face.

Bob smiled. She was the best humored woman he had ever met.

“If you mean Jasper Snipe.” She stopped. “Oh, that’s where I’ve seen you.” She waved her finger at him. Then she placed her hand on his bare shoulder and pushed him back. “You lie down. I’ll ask someone to let Jasper know. Now, let me get your breakfast. You drink coffee I suppose,” she said with a wink.

Bob nodded. He pulled the blanket up to his chest and watched her leave As the door clicked, he relaxed, realizing that his entire body had tensed up when she came into the room.

He stared out the window a little while longer, then began to read again. He smelled breakfast cooking long before it arrived. Jenny stepped into the room with a tray balanced on her hand. “Sit up,” she said.

Bob slid up so that his back leaned against the headboard, a finely whittled set of hemlock planks. He couldn’t see the exact design, but could feel it imprinting on his back.

Jenny set the tray on his lap. “You don’t look all that comfortable.” She pulled on the pillow. “Lean forward.”

He leaned and she stuffed the pillow behind his back. “There.” She lightly patted the pillow so close to his bare skin that he could feel the warmth of her hand, then she backed away.

Bob leaned against the cool cotton. “That feels good.” He picked up his fork. “Thank you for breakfast.” He didn’t want her to think he was ungrateful, so he lifted a forkful of egg into his mouth. As his elbow rose, he felt the muscles pull in his rib cage and winced.

She walked over to the window. She stood an average womanly height. Had an average build, too. She wasn’t skinny and wasn’t healthy, but somewhere between. She did move nicely under her dress, graceful and strong. And her breasts, Bob noticed, appeared to be firm.

While she walked around the room, he ate and watched her. Finally, she sat in the chair where Hugh had waited throughout the night.

“You haven’t been in town very long, have you?” She sat straight, but relaxed, alert.

“A few months.”

With a curious look on her face, she asked, “Where’d you come from?”

“The hills mostly. I spent some time as a wood hick and mill worker downriver. Built some homes down there, loaded wagons and trains.”

“How’d you come by working for Jasper?” She leaned forward, reached up with one hand, and played with the ends of her hair as they talked.

The sun made her hair appear more blonde than brown. Where the sun wasn’t dancing over it, her hair darkened. He imagined that at night there’d be no sign of yellow in her hair at all. As the color changed, her face changed. Her lips lightened and darkened opposite from her hair. Here eyes were brown, but sparkled in the light. And they appeared damp at all times, as though coated by Bob’s beloved river water. “Jasper had a sign out: Help Wanted,” Bob said once he swallowed. “I didn’t want to work around dead trees any more.”

Jenny laughed her giggle-laugh. “Dead trees,” she said. “Why without those dead trees where would this town be right now?”

“I know. But I grew up near, well, in the woods and it pains me to see them all cut down.”

“More will grow back.”

“You’re probably right.”

“Jimmy said it’s just another step in progress. It isn’t always pretty, but that’s what happens.”

“Then where is this town when all the trees are gone?”

“There’ll be something. There’s already been mining and fishing, something will come along.”

“I’m not so sure,” Bob said.

She jerked her chin forward. “You can be that way.” There was silence in the room for a few minutes. Jenny looked out the window. Bob finished eating and drank down the last of his lukewarm coffee.

“I’ve been right here pretty much all my life,” Jenny said, after some thought.

“You sound as though you resent it.”

“No, but I would like to see more. Jimmy said all of Pennsylvania looks pretty much the same. Some towns are bigger and some smaller and that’s all.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Bob said, “but he’s probably right.”

“Well he’s not.” She clipped her words. “New York ain’t just bigger, it’s different. I’ve read about it. Even Philadelphia is different. Now you go farther west into Kansas and it gets flat and on to Colorado there are mountains that would make Bald Eagle Mountain across the river look like a mole hill.”

“He said Pennsylvania.”

“Well, I’m not staying in Pennsylvania.”

“Where’d you learn about all this if you’ve never left town?”

She pointed to the book on the stand next to him. “Same as you. I’ve read and I’ve seen drawings and even pictures.”

“I’d like to go someday,” Bob said to his own surprise.

“I’m going to take a train straight across the country and stop in any town that looks the least bit interesting, whether the buildings are different, or the scenery, or the people just plain feel friendly.” She laughed louder than before, seeming to be delighted with herself.

Bob laughed with her. “We could stay in hotels and sleeper cars, under the stars and under the trees.”

When he looked at Jenny, her head was turned and her hand held over her mouth. Her red face grew dark with blood and the moisture in her eyes made it appear as though she were crying. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“What did I say?” He wished he could go over to her, but remembered his nakedness. He reached out. “Was I talking too much?”

Then she burst out laughing.

“Am I funny? Am I stupid? What did I do?”

“No, please.” She laughed. “You’re getting upset over nothing. I just felt embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?”

“When you said ‘we.’. You said
we
could go.”

Bob sat back into the pillow. “Oh. I’m sorry. I got caught up in the idea of getting away from here. I didn’t mean anything.”

“It’s all right. Nobody ever really means it.” The smile left her face for a moment, then came back, fake.

“No, I didn’t mean that either. I’d be glad to go.”

“You don’t have to say that,” she said. Her eyes turned down as though she no longer wanted to see him.

Bob set the tray aside and slid down in the bed to hide. He was sorry about what he had said, but it was too late. He pulled on the blanket, and as his legs straightened, his feet pushed into the open.

“Now look,” Jenny said. She stood to help pull the blanket over his feet. “Oh, you’re feet look like they hold a lot of stories.”

“Would you like to hear a few,” Bob said not quite knowing why.

“I would some day.” She pulled the blanket down.

The motion of the blanket across his naked body, and the look in Jenny’s eyes when she said what she had, made his penis twitch. The blanket jumped and Bob bent his knees to try to hide the movement and to get his feet covered quickly. He winced again. He couldn’t tell whether she had seen what had happened or not, but something inside him hoped she had.

“You’d better lie back down.”

“In a moment,” he said.

“I’d better go.”

“You’ll come back? For a story?”

She picked up the tray from next to him. “Later, I suppose, to check on you.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Bob’s body tensed in fear and lust.

Jenny turned and left the room with the tray.

When Bob was sure she was gone, he inspected his feet. Deep creases moved down the center of his souls and around his toes. A hard shell of skin protected them like a first pare of shoes. The muscle near his arch on the side of his foot was blue with blood-filled veins. His thick, tough heal had a ridge of callous that grew yellow and wide. There were nicks and cuts and scratches everywhere, and black-laced scars where splinters had been healed over and accepted by his body like a fence post swallowed by a nearby tree.