27. Wolfe
wolfe
Jingling my keys in my pocket, I watched the red truck race out of the parking lot, spitting up two identical rooster tails of gravel and mud and flecks of ice. After that I couldn’t see the truck, but I could hear it growling, hear squeals of rubber on road.
“How fast are they going to go in that thing?” I asked, half to myself, to the universe.
“Very, very fast,” Morgan said.
“Twenty thousand dollars, Morgan,” I said, taking the liberty to criticize, as though we were friends of long standing rather than only acquaintances, our only mutual connection the town of Hysham. And perhaps also Mabel.
“Yes,” Morgan said. He came to stand beside me and, for a long moment, we listened to the growl of an engine kicking into high gear.
If Jack and Blue headed east along State Highway 311, they could get the truck up to a hundred miles an hour easily.
“Yes,” he said again. “But I get to see that smile of his. Worth more than money to me.”
“I see.” My own future was uncertain, or at least it felt that way in contrast to Morgan’s life.
A man whom I’d once considered a sad sack with a bad attitude was now glowing with life and health, in spite of the cane.
He barely limped. Held his head high. “You going to marry him?” I asked now, again, like I had any right to.
“Yes,” he said, utter certainty in his voice. “He’s changed my life. He’s changed me.”
“You are different,” I agreed.
We stood shoulder to shoulder, not looking at each other, conversing the way men do.
“And you?” he asked me. “Blue?”
“I found him,” I said. The words wobbled. My breath caught in my throat. “I’m keeping him.” I paused. Took a breath, not surprised at the onslaught of emotions sweeping over me, but overtaken by them. “If he wants to be kept.”
“Jack thinks I hang the moon,” Morgan said, flicking a glance in my direction.
“A couple of hot meals and clean sheets. A place to sleep that isn’t in a boxcar with the wind coming through the slats and he’s all mine.
” The words rang hard in the air, and I looked at him, and he looked at me.
Fire in his eyes, bones hard beneath his skin.
“His own family threw him away. Makes me wonder what kind of life he had to send him out into the world. No support. Putting himself in danger by riding that stupid train. They went everywhere, you know. Everywhere.”
“I’m aware,” I said, grateful to have the emotion land on him rather than me.
“That Star.” He said the words between his teeth, then shook himself. Tapped his cane on the wooden floorboards. Looked out the window as though he were a widower on a widow’s walk. Waiting and watching. “They’ll want to find him.”
“You’d let him,” I said.
Morgan’s response came without hesitation. “Of course I would.” He sighed, tapping his cane again, looking down at it, his jaw working. “They could take the truck if they want. It’s in Jack’s name.”
They, he’d said. As if he assumed Blue and Jack would head out together. If they went, then I, like Morgan, would have to let them go, though I felt cold all over at the thought.
“We could help them,” I said. “We could search the internet. Check all the places they think he might end up. Send out word. I know people.”
“What kind of people?” Morgan’s attention turned to me, and I had to look away. Out the window. At my boots.
“Felons,” I said. Girded my loins and said, “I was in jail for a time. Assault. I know guys who’d kill you over a packet of ramen. Some of them are out now.”
“We’re not using them,” Morgan said, irritation spiking in the air. “We could hire a detective.”
“You don’t have the money,” I said. “And neither do I.”
The problems were now before us: how to find Star. How to be strong if and when Jack and Blue headed out. How to love without hampering those you loved.
“When’s the wedding?” I asked.
“Sometime in November,” Morgan said. Another tap of the cane. “He’s got it all planned.” The softness of his smile belied the hardness of the words.
A growl of engine vibrated the windows as the red truck sped past the feed and grain, now headed south on Highway 312. I had a glimpse of Blue and Jack in the cab, their faces turned toward each other, laughing, and hoped to God they were paying enough attention to the road.
“Are they going all the way to the interstate?” I asked.
“They won’t go that far.” Morgan brought his hand to his forehead as if to ease away a sudden ache. “Highway patrol would haul his ass in going that fast, whereas Young Tommy would just give him a ticket.”
I nodded, chewing the inside of my cheek.
“We check alleys and bus stops and under the pier in Santa Monica,” I said.
“We could put notices out on the internet, in chatrooms.” I paused to look at him.
“Coded so only Star would know how and where to respond.” He frowned at me.
“We could help them. Pinpoint his location, at least down to a reasonable area to search. There’s no point in Jack and Blue heading out if they don’t know where to go.
There’s a whole country out there and miles of track.
They’ll see the sense of doing research first.” I sounded sure, but I wasn’t, not really.
Two young men, a red truck, a tank full of gas? Anything might seem possible.
“We definitely need a plan.” Morgan leaned forward as the red truck sped past in the other direction. “Jesus Christ.”
Then there was a sequel of tires and the truck came back, roaring into the parking lot, sending up those snow-flecked rooster tails as Jack turned the wheel hard, making the truck do donuts.
High spirits captured in Jack’s head tossed back, Blue hanging onto the strap over his window, laughing or screaming.
Probably both. When finally the truck slowed and Jack parked it, Morgan and I looked at each other.
“We’ll get a plan,” I said. “We’ll find him. But we’ll do it together.”
“Sensibly,” Morgan said in response to this. “Not running off harum-scarum.”
“And not riding the rails,” I said, though I knew in my heart that if Blue and Jack were determined, Morgan and I would watch them go. To wait behind and worry.
“God, I hope not.” Morgan ran his fingers through his hair.