Stone Junction (3 page)

Bam. A hundred dollars an afternoon. She generally worked the financial district, taking care to choose well-dressed men in their fifties because they tended to cover their embarrassment with generosity. A few declined, usually just walking away without a word. One fainted. She never tried it on other women. They were too smart.

In all, it was the perfect nick, so good that even its clearest failure proved its greatest success. One crisp October afternoon she approached a tall, dapper man with graying hair as he left the Clift Hotel. He listened attentively to her plight, immediately reached for his wallet, and handed her a hundred-dollar bill. Annalee had never seen one before. She counted the zeros twice. ‘I’ll bring you the change,’ she managed to say, thinking somehow she would.

‘Nonsense.’ The man grinned. ‘You keep what’s left after the Kotex – which I imagine will be a hundred dollars. It’s an excellent hustle. Talent’s rare these days, and deserves encouragement. Besides, I just won eight grand in a poker game and I like to keep the money moving.’

‘Well, go get ’em, cowboy,’ Annalee laughed. She was still laughing when she picked up Daniel.

She usually worked the city once a month. At first she just worked an afternoon, but after Daniel was weaned she’d leave him with a sitter for two or three days while she hit Montgomery Street and spent the evenings and nights with the young artists and revolutionaries in the Haight, smoking weed and drinking wine. She was attracted to poets and saxophone players, but hardly confined herself to their company. She never took any of them home.

Annalee and Daniel spent the rest of each month at the ranch. She’d bought a single-shot .22 with her earnings, and she occasionally killed a deer or wild pig, freezing what she could cram in the refrigerator’s tiny box, drying or canning the rest. There was a large garden and a dozen chickens and ducks. The old orchard still produced, and nearby Cray Creek held small trout year-round, with salmon and steelhead arriving in the fall. She worked hard, but they lived well, buying the few things the land didn’t provide.

Annalee spent the evenings reading library books her poet friends had recommended or playing the old guitar she’d found under the bed, making up songs for Daniel’s amusement.
Song
, in fact, was his first word. But he was talking well enough to rush in excitedly and announce, ‘Mom, someone’s coming,’ when Smiling Jack, three years late, finally returned.

Annalee and Jack greeted each other with whoops and hugs on the front porch. Smiling Jack had hardly changed – a touch more gray in his hair, the smile-wrinkles around his eyes perhaps more pronounced. But Annalee had changed immeasurably: At nineteen she looked strong, solid, and wild. Her movements carried a sense of ease and grace, and her eyes looked right at you. Smiling Jack was impressed. He held her at arm’s length, declaring, ‘Sweet Lord o’ God, girl, but if you ain’t lookin’ about nine hundred forty-seven percent better than the last time I seen you. You must take to this country living.’

Annalee laughed, tossing her hair. She said to Daniel, who was standing in the doorway, ‘This is Smiling Jack Ebbetts, the man who let us stay here.’

‘Hi,’ Daniel said.

‘It’s a pleasure, Daniel.’ Smiling Jack offered his hand, which Daniel eyed hesitantly before shaking. ‘Doubt if you remember this crazy ol’ double-clutcher,’ cause you hadn’t made a month o’ life when I swept you and your momma off the cold shoulder of I-80 right outside Des Moines and hauled you on out here to look after the Four Deuces, but I sure remember you and our long, sweet ride to the coast.’

‘I don’t remember you,’ Daniel said.

‘Not many folks remember very much from when they were babies.’

‘Yeah,’ Annalee said, ‘but when most people say they’ll be back in a few months, they aren’t three years late.’

‘Had to see if you were serious about making a go of it here.’

Annalee folded her arms across her breasts. ‘We’re still here.’

‘Naw,’ Smiling Jack waved dismissively, ‘I was joshing on that – never had a doubt. What happened was I got involved in all sorts of family stuff back in Florida, and then on my way back out here, I found a monster three-card monte game in Waco. Lost my truck seven times.’

Annalee nodded. ‘And how many times did you win it back?’

‘Eight or nine,’ Jack smiled hugely, ‘plus enough money to burn a wet mule.’

‘Well come on in,’ Annalee said, gesturing toward the door. ‘I’ll help you count it.’

Smiling Jack broached another proposition to Annalee when they’d finished lunch. ‘Me and some friends have a notion to use this place as a safe house, and––’

‘What’s a safe house?’ Annalee interrupted.

‘Just a fancy term for a hideout, I guess. A safe place.’

‘Running from the law?’

‘Generally,’ Jack nodded. ‘Not always, though. Sometimes just resting.’

‘And the proposition?’

‘I want you to run it. Take care of the people.’

‘Do you have eight or nine trucks really?’ Daniel cut in, tugging at Smiling Jack’s sleeve.

‘No, pardner, just one. A ’49 Kenworth diesel.’

‘I’d like to ride in it,’ Daniel said.

‘You’re on, but you’re gonna have to wait a little bit. Right now your momma and me are doing some business negotiation.’

‘Okay,’ Daniel said. He went outside.

Smiling Jack turned back to Annalee. ‘You’d get a thousand dollars a month, plus free rent, whether the place is used or not – and most often it won’t be.’

‘What sort of people will I be dealing with?’

‘The very best.’ His voice promised it.

‘What happens if somebody finds these people they’re looking for? I don’t want Daniel at any risk.’

‘I can’t guarantee that. All I can tell you is that they won’t be coming here till they’re very cool. This will sort of be the next to last move, a staging stop while the final move is being set up.’

‘How much am I supposed to know about these people?’

Smiling Jack shrugged. ‘Whatever they tell you.’

‘And “take care of them.” What exactly does that mean?’

‘Shop, cook, keep ’em company if you feel like it.’

‘Mostly men?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘What about children?’

‘Possibly. I really don’t know.’

‘I couldn’t do it for long. Daniel should start school in a few years.’

Smiling Jack quit smiling. ‘You ain’t gonna send him to school? There’s nothing he’s gonna learn there but how to get along with other kids under completely weird conditions. Right out that door is the best education in the world. But hell, you do what you think’s best – don’t listen to me. I’m a tar-ass reactionary on the subject. Had my way, no kid would learn an abstract word till they was ten years old. Wouldn’t get their minds so gummed up.’

‘I’ll think about school, but I can’t promise we’ll be staying. I’ll do it for a thousand a month, two years for sure – but after that we’re free to go.’

Smiling Jack’s smile returned. ‘Or free to stay. We can work out the details later. Just needed to know if you were interested. Wasn’t presuming you would be, but I brought a load of lumber to build a little guest room down the hill. Three in here is a tad close.’

‘What would you have done if I’d said no?’

‘Leave you be and find another place.’

‘And what makes you think I wouldn’t betray these people in a cold second for two thousand bucks?’

‘If I thought you’d sell ’em out for
two million
, I wouldn’t be talking to you.’

‘Jack, if your criminal friends are half as sweet as you, I’ll give you back the grand a month and call it even.’

‘
Outlaws
,’ Smiling Jack said. ‘Not criminals:
outlaws
. My friend Volta says there’s an important difference. Outlaws only do wrong when they feel it’s right; criminals only feel right when they’re doing wrong.’

That night, after Jack had left to sleep in his truck, Daniel asked Annalee, ‘Can we still live here?’

‘Sure, and as long as we want. But we’ll be having some company occasionally, friends of Jack’s who’ll be stopping by.’

‘He said they would be hiding.’

‘Well,
resting
really, waiting to move on.’

‘Why are they hiding?’

‘Because they’re outlaws.’

‘Are we outlaws?’

Annalee thought about it for a moment. ‘I suppose
I
am. As for you, that’s something for you to decide when the time comes.’

‘When does the time come?’

Annalee slipped her tanned arm around Daniel’s slender shoulders and hugged him against her hip. ‘You’re a good kid, Daniel, but you’ve got to stop beating on me with all these questions that I can hardly answer for myself, much less you. There’s all kinds of things you just have to figure out for yourself. That’s half the fun of being alive.’

‘What’s the rest?’

‘Changing your mind.’

‘Is it as much fun as riding in Smiling Jack’s truck?’

‘Hey,’ Annalee said, tightening her grip, ‘fun’s fun.’

Four months after its completion, the guest cabin remained unused. Annalee, as promised, received a one-thousand-dollar check at the beginning of each month, drawn on the account of Orr Associates Trust Fund in Nashville. She cashed the checks in San Francisco and always stayed a few days to party. Such leaves from the post were permissible, Smiling Jack had assured her, providing she left a time and number where she could be reached. Smiling Jack gave her a ‘location line’ to call when she planned to be away and a confirmation code for their calls.

Annalee used the kitchen phone at an all-night coffee shop on Grant, paying the cooks twenty dollars a month for the service. She happened to be there dunking doughnuts and discussing Japanese tea ceremonies with Japhy Ryder, a young poet of considerable charm, when Louie stuck his head out of the kitchen and called her to the phone.

‘Hello,’ Annalee answered.

‘Mrs Ethelred?’

She recognized Smiling Jack’s voice. The married name was the beginning of the confirmation code. ‘Yes, this is Mrs Ethelred. And Daniel.’

‘Where did we buy the diapers?’

‘Lincoln.’

‘Was I late getting back to you?’

‘Thirty-two months.’

‘That’s actually pretty quick for me. But I hope you can make it home a helluva lot faster than that. There’s a duck on the pond. Sorry to do you like this the first time out, but things got screwy somewhere else and we had to make a hot switch. Your friend may be there waiting, or already gone.’

Annalee had a vehicle now, an oil-guzzling ’50 Ford flatbed, and she immediately picked up Daniel from the sitter’s and drove back to the Four Deuces, jolting the last two miles to the cabin. The house was dark when they entered.

‘Why don’t you just stop right there and relax.’ The woman’s voice was soft, but carried the unmistakable authority of a person holding a gun.

Annalee and Daniel stopped.

‘Who we got?’ the voice asked. Annalee could make out the woman’s shape against the far wall. She was indeed holding a gun, some kind of short rifle.

‘Annalee Pearse, and my son, Daniel.’ She felt Daniel pressing against the back of her leg.

‘Good enough, gal,’ the woman said, some boom in her voice. ‘Didn’t mean to throw ya a shit-scare, but I’ve had a mean day and a hard night and for all I knew you might have been looters or the law. Light a lamp so we can look each other over.’

Annalee lit the two lamps on the mantel. As the light flared, the woman lowered the sawed-off shotgun. ‘My name’s Dolly Varden.’ The woman looked bloodlessly pale in the lamplight, but her clear blue eyes, her voice, and her short, sturdy body erased any sense of frailty. She was wearing a gray cotton chemise and grimy tennis shoes.

‘I was told you might be here, Dolly,’ Annalee said, ‘but I was still startled.’

‘Hardly blame ya,’ Dolly grunted. She looked down at Daniel, still pressed against his mother’s leg. ‘And your name’s Daniel, right?’

Daniel nodded once, quickly.

‘Did I scare you, too?’

Daniel answered with another nod, this one even quicker.

Dolly Varden squatted down in front of him and smiled. ‘I got to admit that when you two came driving up, scared me so bad I almost jumped plumb outa my skin and shimmied up the flue.’

Daniel buried his head behind Annalee, who reached down and lifted him into her arms.

Dolly stood up. ‘Well, now that we all had a good scare, I want you to get ready for another one.’ She turned around. The bottom half of her shift was soaked with blood. ‘You any good at first aid, honey?’ she said over her shoulder.

‘Not really,’ Annalee said, shuddering faintly at the sight.

Daniel felt the shudder, and twisted around in her arms to look at her face. ‘That’s blood,’ he said, as if reassuring her.

‘Well, don’t stand there gawking, you two. Boil water and tear petticoats. I don’t think it’s much, but I haven’t got a good look yet, seeing as how the bastard got me in the ass. Damn but my ass has taken a ton of punishment. Men, motorcycles, general kicking, and now buckshot. Fucking guards don’t use rock salt like the farmers did when I was just a freckle-faced filly raiding the pumpkin patch.’

Annalee set Daniel down and went in to start the stove. Dolly turned her back to Daniel and pulled the chemise over her head. Daniel stared. Dolly’s back and thighs were covered with tattoos, her panties torn and blood-soaked.

‘My mommy has one,’ Daniel said.

‘One what?’

‘Tattoo picture. A little one.’

Annalee, following the conversation from the stove, said, ‘I did it myself. It’s not very good.’

‘You must have been in deep to do it yourself.’

‘I was,’ Annalee said.

‘What is it? A lover’s name, a flower, an animal?’

‘A cross.’

‘Would’ve never guessed,’ Dolly said. She sounded faintly disappointed.

‘No, no – it’s not religious. It’s a twisted cross. They tried to humiliate me.’

‘Me too, honey,’ Dolly said with sympathy. ‘And now they shot me in the ass. How’s that water doing?’

‘Pretty soon.’

‘Does it hurt?’ Daniel said.

Dolly turned to face him, her large breasts swaying as she moved. ‘Some, but not terrible. Kind of a steady ache.’