Chapter 50

Many years had passed since Farley Hutton had taken charge of a situation that involved more than just himself.  Not since his days in the mine, when he’d supervised some of the young guys.  His leadership skills were rusty, but not forgotten.  As John’s crying escalated, and as Rudy looked more and more like he was on the verge of a heart attack, Farley realized now wasn’t the time to scold his friend or try to get answers from him.  Now was the time to get everyone calmed down.  Answers and explanations could come later.

Farley squinted, studying the sun-baked road.  It was desolate, like he expected it to be at this time on a Wednesday.  He gently grasped Rudy’s left elbow.

“Come on.”

Terror shone from Rudy’s eyes.

“No.  No, Farley.  I--”

“I’m not takin’ ya’ to the cops,” Farley assured.  “Now come on.  Let’s go over to my place.  Looks to me like we got a lotta talkin’ to do. I ain’t gonna do that in this sweat box a’ yours.  Besides, the boy here’ll be more comfortable at my house.  He can watch TV while we talk.”

Rudy hesitated a moment, then nodded his agreement.  He picked up the crying John.  The child buried his head in Rudy’s shoulder and allowed the man to carry him to Farley’s truck without question.

 

“I wanna go home.  I just wanna go home now.”

 

Farley saw his friend pat the child’s back and heard him murmur, “I know, Katori.  I know. You will.  You’ll go home soon.  You’ll go home soon, I promise.”

 

Rudy set the boy on the passenger side floor.  When John didn’t fuss about that, but instead, leaned against Rudy’s legs and continued crying, Farley surmised the pair had traveled like this before, with John hidden from view.

 

Farley started the engine and set the air conditioner on high.  It was ten minute drive from Rudy’s house to his.  Other than passing a truck hauling freight on Nipton Road, Farley encountered no vehicles, and didn’t see any signs of cops searching for the boy.  He swung the Ford into his driveway.  Like Rudy’s home, Farley’s house sat on a lonely stretch of desert back road; his nearest neighbor two and a half miles away.  Still, the old man peered around carefully as he exited the vehicle, making sure no cars were coming down his little used road, and no one was walking out in the desert.  Not that he expected anyone to be walking in the desert at noon on an August day where the temperature was a scorching one hundred and fifteen, but given the handful of sheriff’s deputies still in the area, it was better to be safe than sorry.  When he didn’t see anyone, Farley said, “All’s clear,” to Rudy, adding, “Hurry up. Git the boy into the house.”

 

Farley slammed his door shut.  He was halfway to the house when he heard the passenger door shut.  He had the front door of his home open by the time Rudy arrived with the child, who was clinging to his hand and trotting along beside him in an effort to keep up with Rudy’s long strides.

 

Farley ushered the pair into his house.  The window air conditioner in the living room hummed a comforting rhythm that rarely went unheard here in the desert between April and October.  Farley had an air conditioner in his bedroom, too, but it wasn’t running right now.  To save on the cost of electricity, he didn’t turn it on until shortly before he went to bed.

 

The old miner shut the front door and locked it.  He limped to the window that didn’t hold the air conditioner and shut the draperies.  He didn’t often get visitors he wasn’t expecting other than Rudy, but the last thing he needed today was someone snooping around his house, or someone stopping by and just walking in the front door without knocking, like Fred Hucklesmith, the mailman, was prone to doing if he had a package for Farley that wouldn’t fit in his mailbox at the end of the driveway.

 

Farley turned and eyed his guests.  Rudy didn’t look quite as scared, but he was still pale and shaky. John’s eyes were red and his nose was running.  He leaned against Rudy, clinging to the old man’s hand. 

 

“Well now, don’t you two look like somethin’ the cat drug in.  Come on.  Let’s go to the kitchen.  I ain’t had my lunch yet.  How about you?”

 

“Uh…no.  Not yet.  We don’t usually eat until noon.”

 

“Ain’t that far from noon, Rudy.  By the time I git somethin’ together for us, it’ll be close enough, don’t ya’ think?”

 

“Yeah.  Yeah, sure.”  Rudy looked own at the boy.  “Whatta you think, Katori?  You hungry?”

 

In a voice so soft Farley could barely hear it, the boy confessed to Rudy, “My…my name isn’t Katori.  It’s John.  John DeSoto.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You do?”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“Then can you take me home to my mom and dad?  I don’t think Uncle Johnny’s gonna come for me.  I think he’s mad at me ‘cause I didn’t stay in the hiding place like I was supposed to.”

 

“Uncle Johnny’s not mad at you, Katori.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“ ‘Cause he’s bin in the hosp--”

 

Rudy shot Farley a look that said, “Shut your trap. You wanna upset the boy any more than he’s already upset?” and interrupted the man before he could finish.

 

“I just know.  But let’s not worry about that right now, okay?  Let’s go into Farley’s kitchen and see what he’s gonna make us for lunch.”

 

“Then will you take me to my mom and dad?”

 

Rudy looked at Farley, seeking advice.

 

“Me and Rudy are gonna jaw about that after we eat lunch, John.  While you watch some TV.  How’s that sound?”

 

John’s eyes widened with excitement.  “You’ve got a TV?”

 

“Sure do.” Farley indicated to a corner of the room where a mammoth Motorola console sat angled.  A rotor box rested on top of it, so Farley could turn the antenna in whatever direction he need to without going outdoors.

 

“Wow!  I haven’t watched TV in years.  Rudy doesn’t have one.”

 

“I know.  Just one a’ his many quirks.  Now come on.  Let’s git some lunch rustled up first.  You like Kraft Macaroni and Cheese?”

 

“I love it!  Rudy doesn’t buy it.  We mostly eat peanut butter and jelly for lunch.”

 

Farley could easily imagine that John had been on a steady diet of peanut butter and jelly since encountering Rudy.  Rudy wasn’t one to buy many prepackaged foods, claiming expense and poor taste as his excuse for staying away from most things that came from a box or can, or were found in the frozen food section.  Peanut butter, eggs, oatmeal, cereal, pancakes, tuna fish, cheese, crackers, fresh fruits and vegetables, and an occasional hamburger or hotdog had probably made up the bulk of the boy’s meals since arriving at Rudy’s.

 

“Then come on.  Follow me to the kitchen.”

 

It was only a few steps to the doorway that led into Farley’s kitchen.  He plucked a napkin from the holder on the center of a square maple table that sat four and handed it to John.

 

“Here, John.  Use that to wipe your nose.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Welcome. Garbage can’s right over here in this cabinet under the sink.  You can throw it away when you’re done.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Rudy ate with Farley often enough to know where things were kept.  He set the table while Farley started water boiling and then moved to his refrigerator.

 

“Ya’ like Mrs. Paul’s fish sticks, John?”

 

John looked up from the garbage can he was tossing the napkin into, tears and homesickness suddenly forgotten in the face of hunger. 

 

“Yeah!  I like ‘em as much as I like macaroni and cheese.”

 

“Good.  Got some a’ those too.  I’ll make ‘em in that there microwave oven my brothers and their wives gave me for Christmas.  They’re not as crispy as when I make ‘em in the regular oven, but it’s too hot to turn it on today.”

 

“I like ‘em cooked in the microwave.  My mom does ‘em that way sometimes when I’m really really hungry.  I don’t care if they’re not crispy.”

 

Farley chuckled as he maneuvered around the boy with a plate full of frozen fish sticks; headed to the big square microwave setting on a stand against the far wall.

 

“Glad to hear it.”

 

Farley took a package of hamburger buns out of the breadbox next, asking Rudy to get tartar sauce and pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator. 

 

“I got some tomaters in there too, if you wanna slice some up and put ‘em on a plate for us.”

 

“Will do.”

 

As Farley poured the box of macaroni into the now boiling water, he caught sight of John looking around the kitchen.

 

“Pass yer inspection?”

 

“Uh?”

 

“My kitchen.  Does it pass yer inspection?  Is it clean ‘nough for ya’?”

 

“It’s real clean. Just like Rudy’s.”

 

“That’s ‘cause me and Rudy learned discipline in the Army.”

 

“What’s dis’pline?”

 

“It’s when they teach ya’ things like how to keep a clean kitchen.”

 

“Oh.  Well, it’s real clean all right. Kinda old lookin’, like Rudy’s, but your refrigerator isn’t old like his.”

 

“That’s ‘cause unlike stingy ole’ Rudy, I believe in modern conveniences.”

 

“Does the mean you like new stuff?”

 

“When the old stuff breaks I do.  Bought me that ‘frigerator, and the stove too, at the Sears and Roebuck in Vegas a couple months ago.  That’s where I got me my washer and dryer a few years back when my old ones quit workin’.  Go on.” Farley indicated to the hallway behind the kitchen.  “Take a look at ‘em.  They’re at the end of the hall in the utility room.”

 

The boy did as Farley instructed, traveling the hall that held the same aging blue and white linoleum flooring that was in the kitchen. Just like Rudy’s utility room was a former back porch that had been enclosed, so was Farley’s.  Rudy had helped him convert the back porch to a utility room in 1953, if Farley recalled correctly.  Just a few months after he’d married Vera, because he wanted to make life in the desert as easy for her as he could.

 

When he returned, John announced, “They look like what we have at home.”

 

“I ‘spect they do.”

 

“Rudy’s washing machine is called a wringer washer.  You have to wring the water outta the clothes by runnin’ ‘em through the wringer thing.  I’ve watched him do it.  And he doesn’t have a dryer, either.  He hangs the clothes outside on a clothesline.  I’ve been helpin’ him do that.”

 

“That’s a good boy.”

 

“And you have two bedrooms. Rudy only has one. And your bathroom is bigger than his.”

 

“That’s ‘cause I wanted the best for my Vera.”

 

“Who’s Vera?”

 

“She was my wife.”

 

“Where is she?”

 

“She left a long time ago.”

 

“Left?”

 

“Run off.”

 

“To hide?”

 

Farley chuckled. “Guess you could say that, yeah.”

 

“Did you try to find her?”

 

“Sure did.”

 

“But you couldn’t?”

 

“Oh, I found her all right.”

 

“Then where is she?”

 

“Still the same place she run off to far’z I know.  She wouldn’t come back.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“That’s just the way women are sometimes.  Take it from me, little fella’, yer better off without ‘em. Women ‘cause a guy more trouble than they’re worth. Ain’t that right, Rudy?”

 

“Seems to be.”

 

“That’s what Uncle Johnny says too.”

 

Farley winked at the boy.  “Then Uncle Johnny is one smart man.”

 

The microwave dinged, and John scurried to Rudy’s side to watch him take the plate of fish sticks from it.

 

Rudy wrinkled his nose.  “You really like those things that much?”

 

“Yeah!  They’re one of the best things for lunch ever.”

 

“Good thing we came over here then, uh?  ‘Cause if we were at home we’d be eating peanut butter and grape jelly.”

 

Rudy and Farley both laughed when John rolled his eyes and said with all the drama he could muster, “Don’t I know it.”

 

Farley pointed to a chair between himself and Rudy.  “You set there, John.”

 

Rudy helped John fill his plate from the dish of macaroni and cheese Farley’d had brought to the table, then made a fish sandwich for him, and filled his glass with lemonade.  Farley watched his friend while filling his own plate and making two sandwiches for himself. 

 

“You do that real nice, Rudy.  You’d a made somebody a good mommy.”

 

“Ha ha.  Stick it in your ear, ya’ old, coot.”

 

“I ain’t gonna stick it nowhere but up your--”

 

“Na uh.”  Rudy put a finger to his lips and indicated to the boy with slight tilt of his head.  “Language.”

 

“Oh for God’s…yer like a dadburn kindergarten teacher.”

 

“Rudy’s not a kindergarten teacher or a mommy,” Johnny said around a mouthful of macaroni.  “He’s like Gray Wolf.”

 

“What’s a Gray Wolf?”

 

“Uncle Johnny’s grandpa.”

 

“So that means Rudy’s like a grandpa, is that it?”

 

“Yeah. Like Uncle Johnny’s grandpa.”

 

“Is that good?”

 

“Yep.  Gray Wolf’s real nice, and he knows lots of stories ‘bout Indians, and he makes neat stuff like Rudy does, and his house is old inside like Rudy’s too, ‘cept Gray Wolf’s got a TV like you do, Farley.”

 

“Smart man.”

 

“He is smart.  He knows what kinda animals make marks on the ground, and he can even follow ‘em.  He lives on an Indian reservation.”

 

“How about where you live?”

 

“Where I live?”

 

Farley started questioning the boy then as to what his neighborhood was like.  Based on the news reports, the miner already knew John was from Carson. The early stages of an idea were forming in Farley’s head about how they could get John back to his parents. 

 

Farley got the impression this was the first time since meeting Rudy that John was willing to talk about himself, his family, and his home, because Rudy grumbled, “If you’d only told me all of this two weeks ago, you’da saved us both a lotta grief.”

 

“But I couldn’t tell you, Rudy.  I was hiding.  I told you that.  I had to wait for Uncle Johnny.  Only now I don’t think he’s gonna come for me.  I think he’s mad ‘cause I didn’t stay in the ditch like he told me too.”

 

Rudy swiped at the cheese stains around John’s mouth with a napkin.  “I already told you. Uncle Johnny’s not mad at you.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“I just do.  Are you finished eating?”

 

“Yeah, I’m full.”  John turned to Farley. “It was really good.”

 

“Well thank you.  I can’t put together no fancy turkey dinner like my sister-in-law Nelda can, but I do pretty good with stuff like fish sticks and macaroni and cheese.”  Farley pointed toward the doorway. “Wanna watch some TV now?”

 

“Yeah!”

 

“Go on then.  One a’ the stations plays cartoons all afternoon.  Flip the dial around.  You’ll find it.”

 

“Okay!”

 

John hopped off his chair.  He ran for the living room, his feet pounding against the floor. 

 

“Be careful of my card table!  Don’t knock my puzzle off!”

 

“I won’t!”

 

Farley chuckled after the boy was gone and he heard the TV come on. 

 

“Cute little feller.”

 

“Yeah, he is.”

 

Farley pushed his plate aside, leaned back in his chair, and looked across the table at his friend. 

So, unless you’ve gone wacko on me and have started snatchin’ kids in yer old age, I’m guessin’ you’ve got a story to tell me about how you came by the one who’s watchin’ my TV.”

 

“It’s a story all right.”

 

“Then how about lettin’ me in on it.”

 

Rudy pushed his own plate aside and glanced into the living room.  Farley followed his gaze, seeing John on his stomach in front of the television, watching a Bugs Bunny cartoon.

 

“He can’t hear us.  Between the TV and the air conditioner, he won’t be able to hear a word we say.”

 

Rudy nodded.  He drained the lemonade in his glass, then began.  He started his story with that Tuesday two weeks earlier, when his car broke down and he started walking toward Nipton.  He told Farley about the punks who’d tried to run him off the road when he’d attempted to hitch a ride with them, and then a little while later, coming upon what he thought was a dead man. 

 

“I guess I shoulda’ kept headin’ to Nipton then. Shoulda’ got help for him, but honest, Farl, I thought he was already a goner.  I didn’t wanna have to answer a bunch of questions.  What could I tell the cops anyway?  I hadn’t seen anything, and I didn’t know for sure who hurt the guy.  So I headed here to get you.”

 

“Where’s the kid come in?”

 

 “He was hiding in the back of the Bel Air.  I never saw him until after I’d been home for a while.  I was takin’ my stuff out of the back and carryin’ it into the house when I caught him nosing around my shed.  That’s when he told me he’d been hiding in my car, but he wouldn’t tell me his name, or where he’d come from.  Just kept insisting his name was Katori, and that he was waiting for someone to come get him named Uncle Johnny.”

 

“Why didn’t you take him to the cops right then, Rudy?”

 

“I…I don’t know.  My car wasn’t working for one thing, if you remember right. And ‘cause I didn’t want to get involved.  You know I don’t trust no cop farther than I can throw him. It was only after I went to town with you on Thursday that I found out what happened.  That Mr. Gage really wasn’t dead, and a boy had been with him everyone was looking for.  I been meaning to get Katori somewhere I can drop him off – a church, a fire station, a police station – somewhere I know he’ll be safe and get help, only I just…” 

 

When Rudy paused, Farley saw the fear and vulnerability in his eyes.

 

“I’m scared, Farl.  I know I’ve let this go on longer than I should, but I wanna make sure Katori gets back to his folks okay, only I…I’m afraid of gettin’ caught with him.  Every day I’ve let it go on makes it that much harder to do what I know I got to.”

 

“Which is why it’s a good thing I caught you with him today, ‘cause I got me a plan.”

 

“A plan?”

 

“For gettin’ the little feller back home.”

 

“Not the cops.  I ain’t goin’ to the cops.”’

 

“It don’t involve no cops.  Just you and me.”

 

“Us? How?”

 

Farley stood and walked to a kitchen drawer. He pulled out a folded map of California, a sheet of lined paper, and a pen.  He returned to the table, pushed John’s dishes off to the side by his, and sat down in the chair the boy had occupied so he was next to Rudy.  He opened the map, spread it out on the table, and studied it.  He scribbled down directions on his sheet of paper, then passed it over to Rudy.

 

“This is what I’m thinkin’.  Come Friday, we’re takin’ the boy back to his house.”

 

“But--”

 

“Just listen to me now.  I figure it’ll take us about four hours to get to Carson from here, maybe a little longer.  From what John said at lunch, he lives in one a’ them middle class suburban neighborhoods like Olen’s.  That means it’ll be pretty quiet during a weekday.  Especially if we drop him off a few minutes after twelve, when all the mothers and their kids will be inside eatin’ lunch.  And if it’s anything like Olen’s neighborhood, then a lotta the women are holdin’ down jobs too, like their men folk, meanin’ the kids are off at a daycare place and the houses are empty.”

 

“Daycare?”

 

“Kinda like a big kindergarten where kids go whose mothers work at a job away from the house.  You pay to have your kid there. Even babies go there.  Some of my nephews and nieces – their kids go to these daycare places.”

 

“Doesn’t sound like a good way to raise a kid to me.”

 

“To me either, but times have changed since we was young bucks, Rudy. The world moves a lot faster, and everyone wants new stuff right from the git go –– TV’s, appliances, cars, houses.  They don’t wanna work for stuff like we did.  They buy everything on credit, and then the next thing ya’ know the women have to git jobs too, in order to help pay fer the crap.”

 

“And you make fun of my old stuff.”

 

“The only reason I make fun of it is ‘cause I know you can afford better, ya’ rich ole’ loon.”

 

“I ain’t rich.”

 

“Maybe not, but you’re a helluva lot better off than you let on.”

 

“And what’s that got to do with gettin’ Katori back home?”

 

“Nothin’.  I was just pointin’ out that you can afford to buy new things without goin’ into debt, but you don’t, and these young ones can’t afford to, but they do it anyway.” Farley glanced back down at his directions.  “John said his mother didn’t have a job when I asked him, so she’ll probably be home.”

 

“What if she’s not?”

 

“Uh?”

 

“What is she’s not home?  What if no one’s home?  I can’t just leave him there by himself.”

 

“He’s got a father, and an older brother and sister. Teenagers, according to what I saw on the news. Someone’s bound to be home.”

 

“But what if they’re not?”

 

“Then we’ll send him to a neighbor’s house.”

 

“But you just said the houses would be empty. That everyone would be working.”

 

“Not everyone will be working.  Only about three quarters of ‘em if we’re lucky.”

 

“Maybe so, but no matter what, we can’t just walk up to the front door with him. His folks will call the cops for sure.”

 

“We’re not gonna walk to the front door with him. We’re gonna drop him off a little ways from the house, kinda tail him and make sure he gets there, then take off like a bat outta hell.  By the time he gets inside and everyone gets over the shock a’ seein’ him and comes out to look for us, we’ll be long gone.”

 

Doubt crossed Rudy’s face. “I don’t know.  It sounds pretty risky.”

 

“What in tarnation do you call what you’ve been doin’ the last two weeks?  Ain’t it been risky to keep the boy at your place?”

 

“Well…yeah.”

 

“This ain’t gonna be much riskier than that, believe you me.”

 

“What if we can’t find his house?”

 

“We’ll find it.  Once we get in Carson, he should be able to direct us there.”  Farley stood and limped to the doorway. He yelled to be heard over the air conditioner and TV. “Hey, John, ya’ know what street you live on?”

 

The boy turned his upper body around to he was facing Farley.  “Yeah! The one that’s a little ways from the school where I’m gonna go to kindergarten.”

 

Farley came back to the table. “See there.  He knows what street he lives on. The one that’s a little ways from the school where’s he’s gonna go to kindergarten.”

 

“Sounds pretty vague if you ask me.”

 

“Well I didn’t ask you.  It’s a landmark.  One he’ll recognize.  That’s all that matters.”

 

Rudy fell silent. Farley could tell he was thinking the plan over.  And like Farley knew would happen, Rudy reluctantly agreed to it, because short of taking John to the police and trying to explain why he’d kept the boy for two weeks, he didn’t have much other choice.

 

“Okay, that’s the way it’ll be done then.  Only you’re not comin’ with me.”

 

“What?  A’ course I am.  It’s my plan, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah, it is.  But if I get caught--”

 

“You won’t get caught.”

 

“I hope not, but if I do, I’m not gonna let you put your neck in the noose too, Farl.  I’m takin’ full responsibility for this.”

 

“But--”

 

“No. I mean it. I go alone when I take him back.”

 

“You’re gonna need a navigator.”

 

“No I’m not. I was born and raised in L.A., remember?  Haven’t been back there in close to forty years now, but I still know my way around the city and her outskirts.”

 

“A lot changes in forty years.”

 

“Maybe so, but I’ll be all right.”

 

“I still don’t think--”

 

“Don’t much care what you think.  I ain’t draggin’ you into this with me, and that’s final.”

 

“All right, all right.  Have it your way.  But you’re takin’ my truck, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

 

“No.  I--”

 

Farley waggled a finger.  “Uh huh.  I said I won’t take no for an answer.  You’re gonna stick out like a sore thumb in John’s neighborhood in that old Buick of yours.”

 

“It’s newer then the Bel Air.”

 

“Maybe so, but still, it’ll be real noticeable.  I’ll wash the truck tomorrow so it ain’t got no desert dust on it.  Considerin’ how new it is, and once it’s clean, no one’ll pay a lick of attention to it.  I’ll come over to your place at seven-thirty on Friday morning and pick the two of you up.  You can bring me back here.  That way if anyone drives by your place, they’ll see the Buick parked there and think you’re home.”

 

“Why’s that important?”

 

“So if anything happens and we need the police to think you had nothing to do with the boy, there’ll be at least one witness to say that your car was in your driveway.”

 

“Who would that be?”

 

“Fred. What time’s he deliver the mail to your place?”

 

“Usually about one-thirty.”

 

“Good.  That works out perfectly.”

 

“What about you?  Your truck won’t be here.”

 

“People are used to seein’ my truck gone all times of the day.  I go to town a lot, run errands here and there, stop to see you or some of the other guys we used to work with.  No one will think anything of it.  ‘Sides, about the only person who even pays any attention is Fred.  Otherwise, no one travels this road enough to know my habits, anymore than folks travel your road.”

 

“I suppose that’s true.”

 

“It is.”  Farley studied his friend.  “And we’ll disguise you too.”

 

“Disguise me? How?”

 

“Tuck your hair into the back of your shirt for one thing.  And put a baseball cap on ya’ along with a pair of sunglasses. Make sure you pack the boy a snack and something to drink.  You don’t wanna have to stop anywhere.”

 

“What if he has to go to the bathroom?”

 

“Then stick to a rest stop along the freeway.  The kind where lots of truckers are.   They’ll be in such a hurry to get back on the road again that they won’t pay you no mind. That, or they’ll be catchin’ some shut eye.  I figure you oughta leave here by eight on Friday.  That’ll give us tomorrow to get you and John ready.”

 

“Ready?”

 

“You gotta memorize the route I wrote down.  You can’t have the directions on you.  We’ll put the map in the glove box, but no way can you have them directions with you in case you get stopped by a cop for some reason.  We’re also gonna have to make John understand that he can’t say where he’s been, or tell anyone your name or my name.”

 

“You think he can do that? He’s only five.”

 

“You’d better hope he can.”

 

“Well…he might be able to.  It wasn’t until a little while ago in your living room that he finally told me his name.  The whole time he’s been with me all he’s told me about himself is that his name is Katori and that he’s waiting for Uncle Johnny to come find him.”

 

“See there.  He can keep his mouth shut.  We just gotta give him some options.”

 

“Options?”

“Things he can tell his folks and the cops ‘bout where he’s been and how he’s survived for two weeks by himself.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“I don’t know yet.  I’ll think on it tonight, then come over and pick you two up at nine tomorrow morning.  If I gotta spend the day helping you get him ready, then we’re gonna do it here, where there’s air conditioning and decent food.”

 

“My food is decent.”

 

“Yeah, if I wanna eat peanut butter and jelly for lunch, which I don’t.”

 

Farley stood to collect the dirty dishes.  Rudy rose to help him.

 

“You got anything in the house that belongs to the boy that he didn’t show up with?”

 

“Some clothes and a baseball hat I bought him at Mora’s store in Essex. Some undershorts and socks I got at the Woolworth’s there.  A couple little toy cars too.”

 

“Then make sure you put that stuff in bag and give it to me on Friday.  I’ll burn the clothes and hat. The cars I can stuff in with my garbage.  I always go to the dump on Saturday.  I’ll take ‘em out there then.  Just make sure that whatever John goes home wearing, is what he had on when you found him, right down to his underwear and socks.”

 

“I will.”

 

“And them toys I saw in your living room last week. The ones you said belonged to you and your brother and sisters?”

 

“What about ‘em?”

 

“You had ‘em out for John to play with, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

 

“Make sure you put ‘em away and store ‘em back wherever it was you were keepin’ ‘em.  Get rid of any signs he was there, Rudy.  As a matter a’ fact, we’ll bring your garbage bags here on Friday too.  That way on Saturday, I’ll get rid of everything you had.”

 

“Why’s that important?”

 

“Just in case the cops come snoopin’ around.  You don’t want more garbage than seems normal for one guy. The dump opens at seven.  I’m always one of the first ones there.  Other than waving to Herb as I pass by the office, I never see no one, and he never pays attention to how many bags I dump, or where I put ‘em.  By quarter after seven on Saturday morning, all the evidence will be gone.”

 

The two men stood together by the sink.  Farley ran warm water in the white porcelain single basin, then added dish soap. Rudy got a clean towel out of a drawer and dried each dish, glass, and utensil as it was handed to him.  When the dishes were clean and dry, Rudy put them away while Farley wiped off the table and countertops, then stuck the pitcher of lemonade back in the refrigerator.

 

As Rudy folded the damp dishtowel and hung it on a silver rack Farley had mounted next to the window above the sink, he asked, “Do you really think I can pull this off?  You think I can get John back home, and that he won’t say anything about me once he’s there?”

 

“I don’t know.  I sure as hell hope so.  But what choice do you have?  You can’t keep him.”

 

Rudy bit his lower lip and stared at the floor.

 

“Rudy?  Oh no.  Uh huh.  No way.  You can’t keep him. Blast it, Rudy. You’ve gone and got attached to him, haven’t ya’?”

 

“He is a nice little kid.”

 

“Nice or not, you can’t keep him.  He’s not yours.  His father was in town on Monday showin’ his picture around and askin’ us to keep an eye out for him.  The man’s hurtin’, Rudy.  I could see it on his face.  His whole family is hurtin’.  Imagine how John’s mother must feel.  Or John Gage. That paramedic feller John was with.  How do you think he feels, thinkin’ he was responsible for his friend’s little boy, and now that boy is gone.  They must all think he’s dead by now.”

 

Rudy finally met Farley’s eyes.  “Didn’t say I was gonna keep him.  I know his family is torn up.  It was just…nice.  Havin’ some company for a while.  Havin’ a young one around.  Made me wonder how things mighta been if Carol…” Rudy shook his head. “It was a long time ago, and I’m an old man.  It’s stupid to have thoughts like that.  I’ll take Katori home on Friday just like you said I should.”

 

“It’s not stupid.  Me…sometimes I wonder how things might be for me and Vera if we were still married.  How things mighta been if we’d had a few kids.  Stuff like that.  Guess you and me are cut from the same cloth, uh?”

 

“Guess so.  Just a couple ole’ desert rats no woman wants to lay eyes on.”

 

“Not for long anyway.  Oh well, I’m gettin’ too old to worry about keeping some woman happy.  How about you?”

 

“I got too damn old years ago.”

 

Farley laughed at his friend, then put an arm around his shoulders. 

 

“It’ll be okay.  If ya’ just do like I tell ya’ to, you’ll get the boy back to his folks and be outta there before you can say ‘cat ran over the rooftop with a piece a’ raw liver in his mouth.’”

 

“Why would I wanna say that?”

 

“I don’t know why you’d wanna say it.  It’s just an expression.”

 

“Not one I ever heard before.”

 

“Then it’s like I keep tellin’ ya’, ya’ need to get out more.”  Farley dropped his arm and moved to the refrigerator where he opened the freezer door.  “Get out three bowls, spoons, and the ice cream scoop, will ya’?”

 

“Why?”

 

“ ‘Cause we’re gonna eat spinach, dummy. Whatta ya’ think?  We’re gonna have ice cream.”

 

“You shouldn’t give Katori all this junk food.”

 

“And just what’s junky about macaroni and cheese, fish sticks, and ice cream?”

 

“A lot. I’m surprised you haven’t had a heart attack yet.”

 

“Well I haven’t, so there.  And that just goes to show that the stuff I eat ain’t junky at all.”

 

“In your opinion.”

 

“Yeah, in my opinion, which is the only opinion that counts in my house.”  Farley turned toward the doorway. “Hey, John!  You want an ice cream sundae?”

 

John flew into the room.  His face glowed with excitement at the thought of capping off an afternoon of macaroni and cheese, fish sticks, and cartoons, with ice cream sundaes. 

 

“Yay! Yay!  Ice cream sundaes!”

 

“What ya’ want on it?  Chocolate sauce?  Butterscotch sauce? Or caramel sauce?”

 

“Can I have all three?  Uncle Johnny lets me.”

 

“Sure. If you want all three, you can have all three.”

 

“And marshmallows. The little ones.  Do you have some of those?”

 

“Sure do. And some whipped cream in this here can, and some cherries too.”

 

“Wow!  These are gonna be really super duper ice cream sundaes, huh, Cloud Jumper?”

 

“Looks that way.  I just hope I’m not up all night with you helpin’ you get through a stomachache.”  

 

“Oh, I won’t get a stomachache.  My mom says I’ve got a cast iron stomach, just like Uncle Johnny.”

 

“That’s good then, ‘cause I don’t want a sick boy on my hands.”

 

Farely began putting John’s sundae together. “Whattta ya’ want on your ice cream, Rudy?”

 

“Just some of the butterscotch sauce’ll be fine.”

 

“No marshmallows?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“No whipped cream?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“No cherries, or chocolate sauce, or caramel?”

 

“No, no and no.  Bad enough that I’ll be dealin’ with a little boy with an upset stomach.  I don’t need one too.”

 

“Party pooper.”

 

John laughed and mimicked Farley.  “Yeah, party pooper.”

 

Rudy pretended to make a grab for John. “Why you little…”

 

The boy ran for the living room, shrieking with delight, Rudy playfully chasing after him.  A few minutes later, John was settled on the floor in front of the TV set again, eating a large bowl of ice cream while Rudy and Farley sat behind him in easy chairs eating their ice cream sundaes as well.  After everyone was finished, Rudy took the bowls into the kitchen, washed them, and put them away so Farley would have to do it later.  When he returned to the living room and sat down, John climbed in his lap.

 

Farley subtly eyed the pair while the air conditioner droned in the background, and Elmer Fudd hunted “wascally wabbits” on the television set.  The back of John’s head was resting against Rudy’s right shoulder, while Rudy’s left arm was around the boy’s waist in a loose hug.

 

Boy oh boy, Rudy, but you sure have got yerself attached to that little feller.  I never thought I’d see the day when a kid worked his way right into yer crusty ole heart, but that boy’s surely done it.  I just hope you’re ready to say goodbye to him come Friday, and him to you, or we’re gonna have us a peck of trouble.  Geez Louise, but we’ll have more trouble than we can shake a stick at.

 

Farley didn’t take Rudy and John home until after dark that night.  Like he told Rudy, the boy might as well stay in where it was cool, and where TV kept him so easily entertained.  Farley fed his guests a supper of corn on the cob along with bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches, enjoying their company as much as they seemed to enjoy his. 

 

The old miner watched as Rudy carried the sleeping boy into his house at ten o’clock that night.  Farley waited until the living room light came on, then pulled out of Rudy’s driveway and headed toward his own home once again.  Like he’d told Rudy he would, Farley started thinking of what he was going to coach John into saying when his parents and the police asked him where he’d been, who’d taken care of him, and how he’d gotten back home. 

 

As Farley drove down the dark deserted roads surrounding the little town of Nipton, he prayed he’d be a good enough teacher, and that young John would be a good enough pupil, to keep Rudy out of jail.

 

Chapter 51

Joanne sat next to her husband at the kitchen table, taking comfort from the way his callused left hand covered her smooth right one.  She’d gotten up before Roy that morning and made him breakfast, just like she always used to do on a morning when he was scheduled to work.  She hadn’t done this since they’d returned home without John, but over the last couple of days, she was trying to be a wife to her husband again, and a mother to Chris and Jennifer. 

 

It wasn’t easy, and Roy seemed to sense that.  She still wanted to curl up on John’s bed and stay there all day with her arms wrapped around his stuffed animals, smelling his sweet scent on the toys, and seeing reminders of her little lost boy as her eyes roamed the room painted bright blue, and decorated with wallpaper depicting red fire engines of various shapes, sizes and purposes.

 

Joanne was sleeping with her husband again as well.  After spending Monday night in their bed, she’d discovered how much she needed to be by Roy’s side during the long dark hours when she worried about John the most.  When her mind was filled with horrific images of what happens to young children who fall into the hands of people intent on doing them harm.  The worst part was the not knowing. She’d heard that said many times in the past, but until this experience, she hadn’t realized that she’d never fully comprehended the heartache and terror parents went through when their child seemingly drops off the face of the earth, never to be heard from or seen again.  Even if they just got a body back…Joanne shuddered at the thought, but even if it were only John’s body that was returned to them, at least they’d know for sure that he wasn’t out there somewhere crying for help. Crying for his mommy or his daddy to come find him.  To rescue him from whatever or whoever was preventing him from getting home.

 

Joanne looked at Roy when she felt a slight squeeze of her hand. 

 

“You okay?”

 

He’d seen her shudder.  Or felt it.  Maybe both, she thought.  She glanced at his plate.

 

“Are you going to finish your eggs?”

 

“Yeah. Sure I am.” He gave her a small smile that was meant to project enthusiasm.  “They’re good.”

 

She could tell he didn’t have any more of an appetite than she did, but he ate the rest of his scrambled eggs, finished his toast, and drained his coffee cup.  Joanne did the same, only because she knew Roy would be upset if she didn’t.  They were alone at the table.  It was a few minutes before seven. Jennifer was still sleeping, and Chris was still staying at Johnny’s.

 

As though he’d read her mind, Roy said, “I’ll call Chris today. Make sure everything’s going all right, and that he’s ready to start school on Monday.”

 

Joanne nodded.  Somehow they’d have to start functioning like a normal family again.  She’d have to start functioning like a normal mother.  The kind of mother who made sure her children had the supplies and clothing they needed for the new school year. The kind of mother who made sure her children ate breakfast before they left the house, and had money for lunch, and that Jennifer was where she needed to be after school – cheerleading practice, band practice, a volleyball match, or work.  Somehow she’d have to face this school year without the extra excitement it was supposed to contain that involved her youngest child, the last child she’d ever have, starting kindergarten.

 

Joanne fought back her tears at the thought of all the “firsts” John would never experience. His first day of school.  The first little girl he’d have a crush on.  The first classroom party for someone’s birthday.  The first time his class made decorations for the windows for Halloween, and then Thanksgiving, and then Christmas. And later, so many firsts beyond that.  Little things to be sure.  Most of them fairly insignificant when you looked back upon them years later, but they were the things that excited a five year old child, and made every day something to look forward to.

 

The woman didn’t allow herself to cry.  Her husband had seen too many tears in recent days.  It was her turn to be strong for him, now that she understood he was just as scared and heartbroken as she was, but simply couldn’t show it in the same way she did.  That by going to work and carrying on with a routine that was as close to normal as possible, he was actually making things easier for Chris and Jennifer; the welfare of his family both financially and emotionally never far from his mind.

 

“When you talk to Chris, tell him if he needs any laundry done to drop it off here. I’ll do it for him.”

 

“Okay, I’ll tell him, but he’s probably washing his clothes at Johnny’s.”

 

“Probably,” Joanne agreed, knowing their oldest son was independent, intelligent, and perfectly capable of looking after himself.  Still, she longed for a boy to take care of, and though Chris was now a young adult, she suddenly felt a strong need to do the kinds of things for him only his mother could get enjoyment from accomplishing.  Like laundry.  Or cleaning the mud from his sneakers.  Or sewing a button on his shirt.

 

“How much longer do you think he’ll stay at Johnny’s?”

 

“I don’t know.  A week or two.  Depends on how well Johnny’s getting around, or how soon Johnny sends him packing.”

 

A slight smile touched Joanne’s lips. “I can’t imagine Johnny ever sending any of our kids packing.”

 

Roy’s smile matched his wife’s. “No, I can’t either. 

 

The patio door was slid open, allowing the couple to hear birds chirping and singing in the quiet of the early morning.  When Joanne spoke again, she said in a hesitant voice, “I…I shouldn’t have said what I did to Johnny yesterday. About Jessie.”

 

“You were upset.”

 

“I know. But I shouldn’t have said it.  I didn’t mean it.  I just…I guess I wanted him to feel the same amount of hurt I do.”

 

“He does, Joanne.”

 

“I know that now. I could see it in his eyes.”  Joanne paused in thought, pushing her plate aside, but never letting go of Roy’s hand.  In a way, she felt like a honeymooner again, suddenly wanting to be close to Roy, physically connected to him, with an intensity that the passing years and a busy family life had caused to wane a bit, as it did with most married couples.  “He got off the freeway because John was thirsty.  I want to be mad at him for that, Roy, but how can I?  How can I stay angry with a man who’s always spoiled my kids, and only wanted to get my little boy a drink?”

 

“You can’t, any more than I can. It’s like Johnny said, Jo.  He had no way of knowing he’d have a flat tire, or encounter two kids out looking for trouble.”

 

“Maybe what he told Detective Salazar will help.”

 

“Maybe,” Roy agreed, though Joanne didn’t think he sounded too hopeful.  The detective called on Wednesday afternoon.  He’d spoken to Roy, letting him know that Johnny had contacted him, and relaying what Johnny said he remembered. 

 

“I knew he was going to call and give you a statement,” Roy told the detective without revealing that it was at a counseling session just that morning where Johnny’s memories of the carjacking had finally come forth. “Will anything he remembers help?”

 

Joanne couldn’t hear the detective’s side of the conversation, but when Roy hung up, he told her that the man hadn’t offered a lot of hope. 

 

“He said they’ve already been concentrating most of their efforts on the area around Nipton, so all Johnny’s statement does is confirm that they’re looking in the right place.  Unless…”

 

“Unless what?”

 

She could tell Roy regretted saying just that one word and didn’t want to reveal the rest of what Detective Salazar had said, but it made no difference. She easily guessed what he’d said, and answered her own question for Roy.

 

“Unless someone found John and took him somewhere else.  Somewhere far away from Nipton, is that it?”

 

Roy’s acknowledgement was soft and subdued.  “Yes.  That’s it.”

 

Joanne had leaned into her husband’s chest then and cried.  The last of her hopes had been pinned on Johnny’s memory of the carjacking returning.  Now that it had, there still wasn’t enough information for the police to locate John. 

 

After they’d eaten supper Wednesday evening and picked Jennifer up from the Tasty Freeze, Roy and Joanne had retreated to their bedroom where they’d laid side-by-side clinging to one another until they’d both fallen into a restless sleep.  It was Joanne who’d awakened before the alarm went off. She’d slipped out of bed without waking Roy just as the sun was coming up, put on her robe, and padded barefoot to the kitchen where she’d made breakfast and had it waiting on the table when Roy arrived showered and dressed for work in his captain’s uniform.

 

Joanne let the subject of Detective Salazar die.  Neither she nor Roy could say anything about the investigation they hadn’t already said.  Neither of them could cry over anything they hadn’t already cried over.  Neither of them could bring John back with promises of, “He’ll be found soon,” when they both knew that most likely he wouldn’t be found.  Or at least not alive.

 

Because Dr. Edwards continuously stressed to Joanne that she couldn’t expect Roy to read her mind, and that she had to clearly state what she was thinking or feeling, the woman cautiously broached the next thing she wanted to talk about.

 

“Roy…”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“About Johnny’s birthday…”

 

“What about it?”

 

“I…I just don’t think I’m up to a celebration any time soon.  Not just because it’s Johnny’ birthday, either.  I mean…I hope you understand.  If it was anyone’s birthday – yours, mine, Chris’s, Jen’s – I still wouldn’t be up to a celebration.  It’s less than a week away and--”

 

“I understand.” Roy squeezed her hand. “I do. And so will Johnny.”

 

“But I’m afraid he won’t.  Especially after what I said to him yesterday.  I’m afraid he’ll think it’s because I’m angry with him.  I’m afraid he’ll think I want to put an end to your friendship with him.”

 

“Well don’t be afraid of that.  I’ll explain it to him. Tell him you’re not up to hosting a party right now.  He’ll understand.  I don’t think any of us is up to putting on a party face, including Johnny.”

 

“But it’s his birthday, and he has no family in the area, and--”

 

“How about if I go over to his place on Tuesday?  I can take him out for lunch.  I’ll talk to Chris about it when I call him. Tell him I’ll give him money to pick up a cake and ice cream on his way home from school that he and Johnny can eat that night after supper.”

 

“All right.  That sounds nice.  And I’ll make a pan of lasagna.  You can take it with you and put it in Johnny’s fridge. He and Chris can have it for supper. They both love my lasagna.”

 

“They do, but don’t go to all that trouble.”

 

“It won’t be any trouble.  It’s the least I can do in return for canceling the birthday party.”

 

“I’m not gonna tell Johnny about that until Tuesday.”

 

“No?”

 

Roy shook his head, but didn’t offer further explanation.  Joanne assumed he didn’t want to risk upsetting Johnny by telling him too far ahead of time that the birthday dinner was canceled, even though Roy had just said Johnny would understand, and probably didn’t feel up to attending a gathering in his honor anyway.   But given the situation, it was hard to know for sure how Johnny would take the cancellation, which meant Roy’s plan was probably the best one.  He wouldn’t tell Johnny about it until he went to the ranch on Tuesday, and would try to smooth it over by taking Johnny to lunch. Then Chris would come home from school with cake and ice cream, which they’d eat after they’d had the lasagna Joanne would send, thus smoothing things over even further, and making Johnny realize that the DeSotos hadn’t ignored his birthday, nor were trying to send a message that he was no longer their friend.

 

“When Dr. Edwards stops by on Monday, what day do you want me to tell her we’ll meet with her again?”

 

“Better make it next Thursday since I’m gonna spend some of Tuesday with Johnny.”

 

“Okay.  Do you…do you think Johnny will come to another session?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“I hope he does.”

 

“You do?”

 

Joanne nodded.  “I meant it when I said I want you and Johnny to remain friends. I…it’ll be hard though.  For all of us.”

 

“It will be.”

 

“That’s why I want him to come to counseling.  Maybe Dr. Edwards can help all three of us figure out a way to make this work.”

 

“Maybe she can.  If Johnny’s willing.”

 

“You don’t think he will be?”

 

“Like I said, I don’t know.  And like you said, it’ll be hard on a lot of days.  For you.  For me.  For Johnny.  Maybe Johnny put it best when he said we’ll just have to wait and see. That’s not what I want, Jo, but I understand he can’t give me any more of a firm answer about what the future holds for us than I can give him.”  Roy patted her hand and smiled. “So we’ll start slow, with me taking him to lunch on his birthday.  From there, we’ll just have to take it one day at a time.”

 

Joanne stood to collect the dishes. She kissed her husband on his bald spot while keeping her thoughts to herself. One day at a time was how Roy had phrased it.  Like they’d been living ever since John disappeared.  Was this how they were destined to live the rest of their lives?  Shrouded in uncertainty, always known in the neighborhood as the people who’d mysteriously lost a child while on vacation.  A child who would forever remain five years old in everyone’s mind.  Always wondering what had happened to John, and if he’d someday return just as unexpectedly as he’d left.  Was this what the rest of their lives would be like?  Silently centered around a child who was no longer with them, yet would always remain a cherished and beloved member of their family? 

 

It was too sad for Joanne to dwell on. She hurried to the sink with the dishes so Roy wouldn’t see her tears.  When he stood to leave to work, she wiped her eyes with the dishcloth, then turned to face him and smiled.

 

“Going?”

 

“Yeah, I’d better head out in case I get caught in traffic.”

 

Joanne walked with her husband to the front door.  Just like this was the first morning in two weeks that she’d made him breakfast before he left for work, this was also the first morning during that time period that she’d walked him to the door and kissed him goodbye.

 

“Stay safe.”

 

“I will.”

 

The hug Roy gave her lasted longer than a goodbye hug normally did.  Joanne felt his lips brush the top of her head, and one hand rose to cup the side of her face. 

 

“I love you,” he said softly.

 

She leaned into his chest. “I love you too.”

 

They held onto one another a few seconds longer before finally parting.  Joanne watched her husband walk across the lawn to his Porsche. He climbed in, started the engine, and waved before backing out of the driveway.  Joanne stood in the doorway waving in return.  When the car was out of sight, she quietly closed the screen door and latched it.  The morning was already warm, but she didn’t want to close up the house and turn on the air conditioning just yet.  It had felt like a tomb in here for too many days already.  It was good to hear the birds sing, and the sounds of cars passing by the house as various neighbors left for work.

 

The woman turned and headed for the kitchen.