Читать книгу Innocent Foxes: A Novel - Torey Hayden, Torey Hayden - Страница 3

Chapter One

Three days after Jamie Lee died, Dixie almost got run down by a movie star. It was a deep, warm-as-breath August evening and Dixie was walking down Seventh Street on her way back from getting a loaf of bread and a jar of mayonnaise at the Kwik-Way. She’d just crossed over at the corner by the United Methodist Church when the pick-up truck appeared, careering wildly down the middle of the road. Abruptly it swerved, mounted the kerb and came straight at her. Dixie screamed and ran for safety up the steps of the church. Brakes squealed and then there was a slithery hiss of rubber on grass before the final jarring crunch as the truck came to rest against a brick pillar at the base of the steps.

Three men were crammed into the cab of the pick-up and they all roared with laughter. In fact, they seemed to be laughing so hard that at first they found it hard to get the doors open. When the driver finally emerged, Dixie recognized him immediately. Spencer Scott.

‘You almost killed me!’ she shrieked, and burst into tears.

The door opened on the passenger side and the others spilled out. They were all canyon folk. They were all drunk too and seemed to find the idea of running her over hilarious.

Dixie couldn’t stop crying long enough to speak. It was their laughter that did it. That, and Jamie Lee and everything. She’d been coping pretty well over this last week, but this was just the last straw.

‘You aren’t hurt, are you?’ Spencer Scott managed to ask, when he’d finally caught his breath from laughing.

‘You near enough scared the life out of me, that’s what,’ Dixie sobbed.

He rooted in the pocket of his jeans and produced a red bandana handkerchief, the kind that tourists buy because they think it looks Western. He offered it to her.

What was she supposed to do with that? She was hardly going to get snot on a movie star’s handkerchief.

‘It’s clean,’ he said with an edge of annoyance.

Well, of course it was clean. Did he think she’d assume he would carry a dirty handkerchief? Oh dear Jesus, why did she have to be bawling in front of Spencer Scott, of all people?

Beyond him, the other two men were checking for damage to the pick-up. One climbed into the driver’s seat, backed it up a little, got out again and examined the dented grille.

Spencer Scott smiled. ‘I’m sorry we frightened you. No hard feelings?’

For the first time Dixie dared to lift her head enough to look at him properly. He was only an arm’s length away and she could see everything about him. He looked better in person than on the screen, if that was possible. Older and wrinklier, but Dixie liked that. His California-perfect features looked more manly when a bit of living showed. The only surprise was that he was so short. She’d heard that about him from other folks who’d been up close to him, but she still hadn’t expected she’d be taller.

‘Come on, Spence,’ one of the men called. ‘It’s OK. Nothing’s happened.’

He turned to go.

‘Hey!’ Dixie cried. ‘Something did too happen! You nearly hit me! And look at what you done to that pillar. You’re drunk. You shouldn’t be in a car. You can’t just drive off. We need to call the police.’

Spencer Scott smiled disarmingly, his handsome face focusing only on her. ‘We don’t need the police,’ he said chummily. ‘This isn’t anything really.’

‘It is to me! And it will be to the United Methodist Church too. They don’t got money to spend fixing what some drunk driver does,’ Dixie replied.

His eyes were just as blue as in the pictures and they twinkled when he smiled. ‘The police have more important matters to worry about. We don’t want to keep them from solving real crimes, do we?’

‘But you almost killed me! You could’ve, you know. If you’d been coming any faster …’

Still the smile, still the twinkly blue eyes that had looked at all those beautiful Hollywood actresses and were now looking only at her. ‘But you’re all right, aren’t you?’ he said. His voice had the warm certainty of a Jedi knight using the Force. ‘You aren’t hurt.’ Then without warning, he clasped Dixie’s hand and kissed it. ‘And you will forgive me for frightening you, yes?’

Without even intending to, Dixie nodded.

‘And I’ll let you keep the handkerchief.’

When Dixie got home with the groceries, she didn’t say anything about Spencer Scott to Billy. He was watching TV and the last thing he’d want was to be interrupted by talk about the canyon folk. Instead, Dixie put the groceries in the kitchen and then went upstairs to finish packing away Jamie Lee’s stuff.

It was amazing the number of things a baby could acquire in just nine months. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Dixie folded up each T-shirt and little pair of overalls before laying them carefully into the cardboard box. She paused over the tiny grey jogging shoes. It had been silly to buy them for a baby too young to walk and they’d cost way too much for something just for show, but Dixie had loved to see Jamie Lee wearing them. She brought them up to her face, cupping them in her hands, hoping to find Jamie’s scent lingering, but she smelled only rubber, glue and canvas. Kissing them tenderly, she laid them in the box with the other things.

Mama had told her to get rid of it all. She’d said to pick one or two things to remember Jamie Lee by and then send the rest of it to the Rescue Mission. Dixie didn’t want to do that. Giving Jamie Lee’s stuff away so soon would make her feel like she was trying to get rid of Jamie Lee’s memory as well. Besides, what other mother would want to dress her little boy in a dead baby’s clothes?

Billy wandered up the stairs and into the bedroom. Pulling off his boots, he stretched out on his side of the bed. ‘You shouldn’t be up here, Dix, if all it’s going to do is make you cry.’

‘I got to cry sometime, Billy. He was my little baby.’

‘Yeah, but he was going to die anyway, wasn’t he? You always knew that.’

‘We’re all going to die anyway, Billy, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less when it happens.’ Pulling the tissue box off the bedside table, Dixie took one out to wipe her eyes.

‘Come here,’ Billy said and reached out his arms. ‘You need cuddling.’

Dixie lay down beside him. ‘Know what really breaks my heart?’ she said.

‘What’s that?’

‘That we can’t afford to get him a proper coffin.’

‘The one he’s got looks good, Dix.’

‘I remember seeing this picture once in National Geographic. There was a baby girl laid out in this white wooden coffin. It was so pretty. She looked like a sweet little angel lying there. Not dead at all. She had her head on this satin pillow and ribbons in her hair. That’s what I wish we had for Jamie Lee.’

‘Jamie Lee wouldn’t want no ribbons in his hair, Dix.’

Dixie sighed. ‘I didn’t mean that part. I meant the white wood coffin. I want Jamie Lee to look nice. Like a little angel. Pure-like, you know?’

Billy let go of her and turned over on his back. Putting his hands behind his head, he fixed his gaze on the sloping ceiling over the bed and didn’t say anything more.

Dixie glanced over. ‘You heard anything on that railroad job yet?’

Billy just kept staring at the ceiling. ‘Actually I’m thinking I won’t go down there,’ he said at last. ‘They’re taking on men at the sawmill and I was thinking tomorrow I’ll go check that out instead.’

‘I don’t like thinking of you working around all them dangerous saws. And railroad work’s more steady-like. It’ll pay more over the long run.’

Billy didn’t answer.

Dixie sat back up. There was a little knitted duck that Leola had made for Jamie Lee over on the bedside table. Reaching out, Dixie picked it up. She’d intended to put it in the box with Jamie Lee’s clothes, but putting it away had made her feel too sad. Holding it in her lap, she stared at it.

‘The thing is,’ Billy said, ‘I only need work till I get enough money for horses, Dix. Once I got those horses, I can start up my guide business. So, the way I reckon it, if I can get on at the sawmill and work a couple of months, I’ll have enough for a small string of horses by Fall. That’s when all the hunters come, so it’ll be a great time to start up.’

‘Where you intending to keep horses, Billy?’

‘Well, at the start I’ll be on the trail with them mostly, won’t I? Won’t need to keep them anywhere too permanent. They’re going to be able to feed themselves wherever I stake out camp. I’m reckoning on running week-long trips when the hunters come in. Maybe even two-week trips, like Bob Mackie does, only I’m planning on taking the hunters way into the Crowheart Wilderness. I know that area so good. Like the back of my hand. And no one else around here takes hunters there.’

‘That’s because it is a wilderness area, Billy. The government put lots of restrictions on what hunting you can do, once it got declared a proper wilderness.’

‘That’s a big piece of land, Dixie. Nobody’s ever going to be watching all of it.’

‘Billy?’ she said incredulously. ‘Don’t get silly ideas. You can’t go advertising to take people hunting somewhere it’s illegal to hunt and you won’t get no business if you don’t advertise for what you’re doing.’

‘Don’t you think I know that? Besides,’ he said and tapped the side of his nose, ‘Billy knows his ways.’ Then he grinned. ‘And know what else I plan to do? Come summer and all those fucking tourists? I’m going to take me and my horses down by Simpson’s Bridge and just ride along where they can see me from the highway. Then when they’re driving through, the tourists’ll be saying, “Look, Mom! A real cowboy!” and they’ll stop and want to take pictures and I’ll charge ’em. And I’ll offer to give ’em day trips – you know, taking Mom, Dad and kids out, so they think they’re getting to be cowboys too. They’ll do it on impulse. People always spend money better on impulse. I can take them up to the old mines. Or over to Beulerville, so they can see a real by-golly ghost town. Easy bucks, man. The tourists are always willing to pay so much just to do ordinary stuff. So, the only time I’m going to need to pasture the horses is in winter and we’ll be rolling in money by then.’

‘We ain’t never going to be rolling in money, Billy, so don’t kid yourself.’

‘Yeah, but this time it’s going to work out. This guide business will be it for us, Dix. You know how good I am with horses. And you just tell me who knows the Crowheart better than me?’

‘I just wish we had enough for Jamie Lee to have a white coffin.’

‘There’s thousands of bucks waiting to be cut loose from all them city cowboys. No kidding. You can’t believe the things some people pay serious money to do.’

‘But we need the coffin right now, not in the Fall. Not next year. Not after the guide business takes off.’

‘He’s got a coffin, Dixie.’

‘He’s got a blue plastic box.’

‘It’s not plastic. It’s fibreglass.’

‘They’re burying my baby in a blue plastic box.’ The tears started again. ‘You should have taken that railroad job, Billy. Leastways long enough to get Jamie Lee decently buried. I mean, he was near enough your own son. You’re the only daddy he knew.’

‘I would have, Dix. You know how much I always wanted to do right by Jamie Lee. But I’m no good at that kind of work. I need to be my own boss. Got too much cowboy in me. Can’t you understand how great this guide business is going to be? Won’t be nobody to worry about except me and the horses, and I love horses, man. Me and the horses and all those city dudes, waiting to get their pockets picked. I’ll make you enough money to roll in. I promise.’

‘That’s what you said the other times too, Billy. Fact is, we need money now, not some far-off time that might never come. You should have took the railroad job.’

An injured silence followed. At last Billy sat up and reached for his boots. He pulled them on. Then he hunched forward enough to peer out of the small, gable-end window.

Dixie sighed. The knitted duck was still sitting in her lap, so she lifted it up and pressed it to her cheek. ‘Know what? I almost got killed tonight,’ she said softly.

Billy didn’t reply.

‘Did you hear me?’ she asked, turning. ‘And you know who almost done it? Spencer Scott. Him and two other guys from up the canyon. They were drunk as skunks. Weaving all over the place in their pick-up. I got up on the steps of the United Methodist Church just in the nick of time. Came this close to hitting me.’ Dixie measured out the distance with her hands.

‘I wish the canyon folk would all just go the fuck back to California,’ Billy replied. ‘I get so fed up with them around here. They think owning the land is the same as belonging here.’

‘Spencer Scott’s really handsome, Billy. Handsomer even than in the movies. He gave me his handkerchief.’

‘I hope you told him you got hurt.’

‘I didn’t get hurt. I mean, thank the good Lord Jesus for those steps in front of the United Methodist Church, because that’s what saved me. All that happened was that the truck knocked that brick pillar skew-hawed that’s at the bottom of the steps.’

‘Why didn’t you tell Spencer Scott how hurt you were?’

‘Because, like I just said, Billy, the pick-up didn’t touch me. I was scared so bad, I practically wet myself, but that’s all.’

‘Should have said you were hurt anyway. Then we could have sued him. Maybe we can still do it. For, like, “mental distress”. Folks get millions for that.’

‘Don’t be stupid, Billy.’

‘Didn’t you say they were drunk? So they were in the wrong, not you. And being drunk, they won’t remember straight. Think of it. That’s a really good idea. We could nail them. Dix.’

‘But it wouldn’t be right, Billy. I’m just fine.’

He shook his head wearily. ‘Yeah, well, what ain’t right, Dix, is that he’s got more money than he can count and for what? For being a grown-up man playing make believe. Here’s all us hard-working folk, just scraping by, and he gets millions for pretending to be what we got no choice about being and don’t get paid for. There’s no fairness in that at all. So it was you being stupid, Dixie, not me. You should have told him you was hurt. Then you could have got your white coffin and I could have got my horses. In fact, the way I see it, we’d be doing the right thing. Because he could easily kill somebody, driving drunk like that. Slap a big old lawsuit on him and even Spencer Scott would think twice the next time he wants to get behind the wheel.’

‘He kissed me,’ Dixie said softly as she set the knitted duck into the box with the rest of Jamie Lee’s things. ‘Spencer Scott kissed my hand.’

‘Yeah, well, it would have been far better if he’d kissed your bank account.’