Hard Twisted (26 page)

They ate in the car and slept in the car and bathed but once, in the cold Pecos River near Santa Rosa, New Mexico, where Palmer gave Lottie his cowboy hat and sent her into the post office to scout the walls for his picture. Then, outside of Wichita Falls, Texas, they passed three girls on the roadside standing with their hips cocked and with their thumbs out all in a row.

What are you doin?

Palmer swung hard to the gravel apron and watched the girls come running.

Hell, we could use a little company. Help to keep me awake.

The giggling girls crowded the driver's window. Two were plain and towheaded, and the third was a redhead with a too-tight sweater. They dipped their heads and studied man and girl and set again to giggling. Lottie guessed they were all of sixteen.

Where you all headin? the redhead asked.

Wherever you're headin, darlin. Move that stuff and hop in.

The two girls who may have been sisters wrestled the saddle atop the bedrolls and squeezed into the backseat beside it. The redhead circled the dusty car and opened the passenger door, and Lottie lifted the satchel onto her lap as she shifted to the center.

I'm Helen, the redhead said once the doors were closed. She wore snug jeans and pointed boots, and she smelled of cigarettes and chewing gum. And these here juvenile delinquents are Mavis and Mary Sue.

Look who's talkin, said Mary Sue. Or possibly Mavis.

Palmer nodded at the mirror. Dick Garrett, he said. Pleased to make your acquaintance. This here is my daughter Lucile.

Are you all with the rodeo? asked a backseat voice as Palmer worked the gearshift and eased back onto the roadway.

No, darlin, we're just a couple outlaws on the run and wanted for murder is all.

I was hopin you was with the rodeo.

She wanted to see if you could stay the eight seconds.

Shut up, Helen.

You shut up.

Hey, there's a rifle back here.

There's two rifles.

Hey, are these loaded?

Can we shoot at somethin?

Put that down, darlin, before you blow your brains out.

Mister, ain't nobody shoots that good.

Shut up, Helen.

You shut up.

Wichita Falls to Henrietta to Bellevue. The girls chattering and Palmer laughing and newly animated and Lottie watching the roadway front and back. As they rolled into Bowie, the backseat
girls begged Palmer to buy them liquor, and he parked by a roadside store.

They watched him through the window. After a while the backseat girls announced that they had to pee. They held hands as they skipped through the parking lot, the redhead watching with a look of bemusement that Lottie could read in the door glass.

Are they your friends?

We go to the same high school is all. Their brother thinks he's my boyfriend.

Ain't there no school today?

She turned her face to Lottie. Oh, there's school all right. Only Mavis has her period, so we took us a trip to see the falls. And guess what? There ain't no falls in Wichita Falls. Ain't that a pip?

What grade are you all in?

They're both in the tenth, and I'm in the eleventh. What about you?

I ain't in no school.

You're lucky, the girl said, watching again for her friends. I swear I get stupider every day I'm around the likes of these.

A Packard pulled into the lot, swinging a tight arc and parking by the door.

You're real pretty, Lottie told her.

The redhead shrugged. When my daddy was around, he said I had the face that launched a thousand ships.

What does that mean?

I don't know. It's like Shakespeare or somethin.

Where's your daddy now?

He lives in Philadelphia. My mama's got her a new husband. He's a real prize.

The girls reappeared and cupped their faces to the store window and ran stumbling and giggling to the car.

Your daddy's cute, the first one said as they slid into the seat. Is he really a outlaw?

Nah, he's just a cowboy. Sheep and cattle and such.

I had a sheep once, for the 4-H. Only it died.

It probably kilt itself.

Shut up, Helen.

What about your mama, Lucile?

She's dead. I don't remember her real good.

You're lucky. I wisht my mama was dead.

Has your daddy got a girlfriend?

Does he want one?

Does he want two?

The girls were still giggling when Palmer returned with a paper sack in each hand.

Okay, ladies. Coon Hollow or Old Grand-Dad?

Didn't you bring no pop?

Did you ask for pop?

Aw, hell.

It's okay. We'll take that Coon.

How much do we owe you?

You don't owe me nothin, darlin. You done paid for it already with the pleasure of your company.

Thanks, mister.

Yeah, thanks.

The door opened, and the backseat girls tumbled out.

Come on, Helen.

Yeah, we ain't got all day.

The redhead stared at her reflection. She turned to Palmer. Would you all mind if I rode for a while?

Heck, no. We'd be happy for the company. Ain't that right, Lucile?

You don't even know where we're goin.

That don't matter, the girl said, settling back in the seat. As long as it ain't here.

Lottie dozed in the lap of the new girl, waking only when the car had stopped and the driver's door opened. She sat up to the sound of crickets and the smell of wet grass in the moonlight.

You was talkin in your sleep, the redhead told her.

What all did I say?

Nothin I could make out. But you was mumblin a blue streak.

Where are we?

The girl shrugged as she turned. Dick's gone to fix somethin in back.

They watched Palmer's shape rise up and move to the rail of the bridge on which they idled, and they watched him fling something over the side. When he returned to the car, his eyes were barely open. He rubbed his face and took a pull from the half-empty bottle.

We's gettin close.

Where are we?

He adjusted the mirror. We passed Emblem just a ways back.

What time is it?

I don't know. Past midnight, I reckon.

The gate was open when they reached the Palmer farm, and he followed the drive with the headlamps off, crunching to a stop at
the old barn. At the slamming of the car doors, a light came on at the back of the house.

Come on.

The old man met them in the parlor, pale and shrunken in an outsize robe, a bony hand clutched to his throat. Squinting. His hair wispy and wild.

Hello, Pa.

Hell's bells! I thought maybe that was you. He leaned toward the other shapes in the room. What the hell're you doin in Texas?

I'm hot in Utah.

You're no hotter in Utah than you are right here. Wait a minute.

He disappeared in back and returned like some wizened seaman in black galoshes and a slicker slung over his robe. A woman's voice called something from the bedroom.

Come out here a minute.

Palmer followed him onto the darkened porch, where the two men stood in close conversation. Shit, they heard him say to his father.

What's goin on? the redhead whispered.

You should get quit of us. If they's trouble, you don't want to be accessory.

What kind of trouble?

Law trouble.

The redhead watched the shadow men. Is Dick really on the run?

I reckon we both are.

I knew it. Hot damn!

They'd off-loaded the saddle and the bedrolls and most of the tack, and now they sat three abreast in the front seat with the rifles standing upright between them. They traveled north and east in the Goulding car, following its headlamps through a moonless maze of back roads and farm roads and dirt tracks, zigging their way toward the Oklahoma border.

What happens when we get there?

Hell if I know. They got the cabin watched, that's for sure. We could maybe make it across to Arkansas.

What's in Arkansas? the redhead asked.

My mama lives in Little Rock. We could maybe hole up there for a spell.

Lottie turned to face him. Your mama?

We could go to Mexico, the redhead said. She shimmied and snapped her fingers. You could be Ricardo, and we could be Helena and Lucilla. We could open us a little cantina, and you could be bartender and grow a big mustache, and we could be bar girls and dance on the tables with roses in our teeth.

Palmer grinned madly at the image. Damn, I like the way you think!

There was a loud thunk as the headlamps rocked and the road fell away beneath them. Then a splashing sound as the car was momentarily afloat. The engine sputtered as the headlamps flickered and died, and the car's back end drifted in a slow and silent arc, stopping again on a mudflat facing east with the engine drowned.

Palmer tried the starter and tried it again. He pounded the steering wheel with his fist. Shit!

Now what?

They sat in silence, listening to the water. Palmer lowered his
window and leaned outside and boosted himself into the frame. He spoke some words they could not hear. Helen rolled her window, and the car was filled with the gurgling sounds of the creek.

What?

I said if we push her just over to there we could get across!

The redhead turned to Lottie. Who does he expect to do the pushin do you suppose?

It's too dark! the girl yelled out the window. You can't see the end of your nose!

Palmer wriggled inside and sat again with both hands on the wheel. Like a child pretending to drive. He drummed his fingers.

Okay then, here's the deal. It's a couple hours yet till sunup, and I'm dog tired anyways. Let's grab some shut-eye, and we'll push her across come dawn.

He climbed over the seatback and adjusted the blankets and was already snoring by the time Lottie and the girl had removed their boots and arranged themselves in front with their heads propped and their legs overlapping. Lottie listening to the water and staring at the darkness until, after a while, she could make out the soft shape of the sleeping girl and the hard lines of the rifles leaning upright beside her.

She woke two hours later, sideways to the wheel with her neck stiff and the sun still down and a whispering sound coming not, as first she had thought, from the water outside, but from the seat directly behind her.

Don't.

You know you like it.

Shhhh.

Shift over.

Not here.

Come on, darlin.

Stop it.

What are you scared of?

Shhhh.

Lottie pretending to sleep but wide-awake with her neck aching all the more that she feared to move.

You're wearin me out.

Behave yourself.

Come on.

You're bad.

I am bad.

Shhhh. Just quit talkin.

At daybreak the new girl climbed carefully over the seatback, and Lottie watched through hooded eyes as she straightened her clothes and settled against the passenger door. Then, moments later, Palmer made a show of waking and yawning and spreading his arms.

Rise and shine! he announced, thumping the seatback, and the redhead sat up rubbing her eyes and Lottie did likewise, all of them performing their assigned roles like actors in a parlor farce.

The car was half off the road, and the view through the windscreen was to a grassy bank some twenty yards upstream. Beyond the bank were trees, and beyond the trees lay the open expanse of a field.

We's sittin ducks out here. You two need to get out and push us over thataway.

What about you?

Someone needs to steer and work the starter. Go on.

I ain't got no change of clothes, the new girl protested.

Then take 'em off, stupid. Both of you, hurry up. Let's shake a leg.

The girl looked at Lottie and shrugged and peeled the sweater over her head. She twisted and scooted and stripped to her underwear, then sat and waited as Lottie worked her legs from out of her jeans.

Your daddy's a dirty old man, the girl said, smiling into the backseat.

Hurry up.

They climbed through the windows, the water thigh-deep and oddly warm and sulfurous. They waded to the rear quarter panel where the car was lowest, and there they set their feet and squatted and pushed on the fender. Then they waded to the rear bumper and turned their backs to it and leaned with their legs braced until the girl slipped in the mud and disappeared, surfacing again ten yards downstream soaked and coughing and all but naked.

Forget it! she called. It ain't moved a inch!

Shit!

What now?

That looks like a farm just yonder. You girls go see if he's got a tractor or somethin to pull with.

You're crazy! the girl said, standing now to examine herself. I'm all wet!

Go on. He'll think he's died and gone to heaven.

The girls held hands like paper dolls as they crossed the flowing water with their arms raised. The morning air was cold and the redhead hugged herself as they ran from the bank through the field to the old farmhouse. A dog barked at their knock, and the old man who appeared behind the screen stood dumbstruck as the redhead explained their predicament through chattering teeth.

Palmer tossed her sweater through the window, and the girl caught it and removed her wet brassiere and flung it at him, both of them laughing and the girl's round breasts swaying and Lottie watching them both in stony silence.

When the farmer finally appeared, he was leading a white-faced mule. The mule wore a kind of leather surcingle, and the old man carried with him a bundle of rope on his shoulder.

I got my doubts! he called.

Palmer leaned through the windowframe. We'd be obliged if you'd give it a try!

While the man busied himself with his mule, Lottie waded to the window where Palmer sat watching him.

Maybe he's got a car we could borrow.

Maybe you could shut up and let me do the thinkin.

The farmer positioned the mule and handed the rope ends off to the waiting girls, who waded out like magician's assistants to flank the car and tie off to the wheelhubs with Palmer leaning and giving orders like a ship's captain run aground.