Part 3.
We last left guy setting at the
kitchen table with nothing in his heart but relief and thankfulness, that he
hadn't had to carry out his desperate plan to rob the local grocery store of
enough bags of groceries to feed his family, then turn himself in to the local
sheriff.
Truth was, his family and Sheriff Dan
were long time friends. In fact Guy’s father and he were hunting partners. Guy
knew Sheriff Dan would be more than sympathetic to their plight but also knew
he’d have to put Guy in Jail on top of charging him with the serious offence of
robbery with a gun, even though it wasn’t loaded.
He also knew with Lester’s job, the
whole family would now have at least enough food to sustain themselves for a
while longer. The few times in the past weeks when he and his brothers had time
to get together, the conversation always involved what a lot of the folks
around there were talking about.
Most everyone was talking about
heading out west. The rumors were, there were jobs in the planting fields out
California way. In fact more and more people were packing up everything they
could in the back of their trucks and deserting their now worthless farms to
head out west in search of a better life, or at the least enough food to live.
As fate would have it, Lester’s job
only lasted a couple of weeks, Not even enough time for the meager food to
begin filling in the spaces between the skin and bones their bodies were
becoming all to familiar with.
That and the fact that none of Guy’s
siblings or parents had found jobs drove the family into holding a meeting
around the empty kitchen table on the first Sunday morning they were all
available.
The discussion quickly progressed to
how they were all going to pack up everything and leave the only home they’d
known, which brought tears to their Mom and the girl’s eyes but only hung heads
from the guys trying their best to hide their sadness and be stoic.
Most of the brothers told them they’d
already made arrangements with some of their friends to go with them out west,
so that made the whole process somewhat easier.
Their Mom and Dad would take the
three girls with them, so that only left Guy and Lester to work out a way to
travel. Luckily, they’d been working on an old beat up Ford Pickup this last
year and only had tires to patch, and then they’d be ready to go also.
So during the next week, the family
all pitched in to bundle everything they owned, which wasn’t much, into a small
trailer their Father had built out of an old truck chassis, they would pull
behind the beater family car.
Their Mom being the ever-frugal one
brought out a sack of flower and a small sack of salt for each sibling. That
along with some fishing string, hooks and of course their rifles and a small
sack of bullets would have to be their main staples during the trip, along with
what fish they could catch or game they might find along the way.
After patching the threadbare tires,
Guy and Lester piled all their cloths plus a few pieces of furniture that
wouldn’t fit in anyone else’s rig on top of the growing pile of stuff. About
then, they watched several billowing clouds coming up the drive, they knew to
be the friends of their brothers come to pick them up.
When the car and trailer, along with
the trucks were loaded, they all stood looking at the crazy sight. It looked
like a Mexican caravan ready to head out into a desert hoping for an oasis.
Then they stood there in relative
silence squinting their eyes against the blowing dust, pretending to be lost in
thought for quite a while, not quite knowing what to say or do next. Their Dad
made a small speech then telling everyone they’d find each other out west but
down deep they all knew this might be the last time some of them ever saw each
other. Really, this would be the first time the family had truly been
separated, so it felt a bit like a funeral as they finally grew close and held
each other in a long and silent group hug.
Then one by one, after taking a last
look back at the old now pitiful looking homestead, they all started climbing
aboard.
As they each started their rigs with
puffs of smoke announcing success, Eunice, one of the sisters, jumped out and
ran back into the house. In just a moment she was racing back with tears
streaming down her muddy face, hugging a small rag doll she had almost forgotten.
So one by one, the rag tag collection
of old beat up automobiles puffed down the dirty driveway; each leaving a
cloudy trail behind as their last and only testament anyone had ever lived
there.
As they reached the end of the
driveway and turned toward town, everyone one of them craned their necks
looking out the side windows for one last glance at the home they’d very well
never see again but alas, with the cars dust clouds added to the never ending
dust storms, the house was gone as if never there.
Even with the price of gasoline only
10 cents a gallon, it took every last penny they’d saved for this purpose to
fill all the tanks.
They started out as a caravan but
before long were separated, so Guy and Lester took turns driving as they made
their way westward, riding on hope and faith they would discover a better world
at it’s end.
Being farm boys and flat broke; they
had created out of an old hand bicycle pump a contraption to siphon gas out of
gas tanks along the way. Put one hose in a cars tank, the other in theirs and
pump. They knew that was stealing but having no other way to get gasoline, it
left them no choice but to bend the rules this once and pray the powers that be
might forgive them.
They found the best opportunity was
on Sunday’s at a country church. They would pull into the dirt parking lot next
to a likely looking car and wait for the loud singing and hallelujahs to drift
out of the church and then pump like crazy as long as they dared, then madly
drive on their way once more.
In those days, most folks attended
church, which brought up another guilt inducing but necessary opportunity.
Before leaving the area, they would find a small farm with no one home and grab
up a chicken from the chicken coop, which would add to their meager foodstuffs,
calming their constantly growling stomachs for a few more days.
As soon as they started driving
through mid-America things changed for the worse. More than once as they
approached a small town on the highway, they were met on the road by a group of
angry townsfolk with rifles screaming. “Get out of here you white trash! We
don’t want your kind here.”
When they asked how they were to be
on their way around the town, one of the men would bark. “Back a piece is a
trail off to the left, turn there, then a ways further you’ll find a dirt track
beside the river heading west you can take. Now Get!”
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