But the road, darkening quickly, kept taking him back.
And maybe it was the hard truth he'd told the boy about his father.
He couldn't keep his mind in the present. His mind kept changing gears and he remembered that other night in 1942, his father dead in the seat next to him, much later, much darker at night, driving this same road toward Mount Ida, his mind racing, trying to figure out what to do, how to do it, feeling both cheated and relieved, wanting nothing now except to get over this thing, dump the old bastard and get back to the United States Marine Corps.
Then, as now, Mount Ida finally slid into sight, after such a long time, but then it was quiet; now it was much earlier and Turner's general store and liquor store were still open for business and some old boys stood or sat out on the porch before the old buildings.
Earl realized he had a thirst, and pulled off the road.
He walked up to the porch and heard the boys talking.
'Howdy,' he said.
'Howdy, there, mister,' came a reply.
'Got a Coca-Cola inside? A nice cold one? Got a long drive ahead.'
'Yes sir. You go on in, and Ike'll git you a Coke.'
'Thanks,' he said.
'My pleasure, sir,' said the man.
Earl walked in, found an old store with sagging shelves but well stocked, probably the only store this deep in the Ouachita forest, and folks from all around must have come here. He went to a red Coke machine, opened it up, and reached for a nickel. He didn't have one. He had only quarters.
He went up to the counter, asked a boy there for change, got it, went on back to the machine, and got his Coke. He was walking out and to his car when he heard one of the boys on the porch saying, 'They say this'll make Fred Becker the governor.'
'I thought that boy's all finished,' said another. 'But he beat 'em. He beat them Grumleys fair and square.'
It took a second for this to register. At first Earl had the impression it was another Fred Becker they were talking about and that it was another batch of Grumleys, but then he realized that couldn't be the truth.
''Scuse me,' he said, 'don't mean to butt in. But what's all that about Fred Becker and the Grumleys?'
'You from Hot Springs, sir?'
'Well, I done some work there. That's all finished and I'm heading on to Fort Smith.'
'Hell, there's been a war there,' said the man. 'Fred Becker led a bunch of fellers against the gangsters in Hot Springs.'
'B'lieve I heard something about that, yes sir,' said Earl.
'Well,' said the fellow, 'today, he wrapped it up. Done arrested the gangster king himself, Owney Maddox, the big boss of Hot Springs.'
'Arrested him?'
'That Fred done it by himself. Say, there's a fellow with some sand to him. They say he shot it out with the Grumleys at Mary Jane's and today he walked up big as life and arrested Owney Maddox.'
'On what?'
'You must not have been listening to your radio. No sir, it's all over the radio. They're saying Fred's going to be the next damn governor. He got Owney Maddox on the charge of an art theft, for some kind of painting, and they searched Owney's apartment and they found some payroll slips from Alcoa, so they think Owney done masterminded that job. It's all falling apart on Owney Maddox. He' 's in jail and he's going to stay there and all them damn Grumleys he got working for him are squirreled good.'
'Art theft?' said Earl.
'Some old picture he had. It was stolen, and Fred digged it out, and called the feds and made the arrest. Don't that beat all? It's just like with Al Capone. He's a bad man, but everybody's scared to go agin him, so they finally get him on tax evasion. So they get that Owney on art theft!'
'Ah,' said Earl, as if he'd just learned something new.
'You okay, mister?'
'I'm fine,' he said.
''Cause you just look like a haunt walked through you.'
'Nah, I'm fine,' said Earl. He turned and went to his car.
He climbed in, but couldn't find the strength to turn the key. The Coke suddenly didn't interest him at all.
Fred Becker, hero? Fred Becker, the next governor? Hey, isn't it great about Fred Becker, how he got Owney Maddox?
He sat there, breathing hard.
What about them boys? What about that old man? They believed in their job and they risked their lives for it, and they got cut down in the night and nobody said Jack about it and a few days later it was as if it hadn't happened and nobody remembered a goddamn thing now that Fred Becker was a big hero.
In his head, one bitterness slid into and was absorbed by another. It was just like the war. All the boys go out onto the islands and they fight in battles so horrible it scars a man just to think about it. And they die, and by the time you get back everydamnbody's forgotten all about it and some joker's up front acting like a hero and he had nothing to do with it, not a goddamned thing.
He shook his head. The anger came over him so bad he could hardly stand it. He wanted to fight, to smash something, to howl at the moon, to kill something, to see it bleed and twitch out. It was a killing anger, a hurting anger.
He wanted to go back to Hot Springs and start shooting. But shoot who? They were all gone. Owney was locked up and whoever it was had hit the boys in the train yard, presumably that Johnny Spanish fellow, was off in some gangster hideout.
There was no one to kill. It was the same rage he felt when he went to beat his father and his father was already dying.
Earl got out of the car.
'You didn't drink that Coke up, mister.'
'No, I didn't. Feel a need for something else tonight.'
'You all right?'
'I am fine, sir.'
He walked past them, but this time not into the general store but into the little liquor store next to it. There, in an old frame, was the front page of the Blue Eye newspaper with its story of the death of the great Charles Swagger, sheriff of Polk County, who'd died stopping a burglary over in Montgomery County, at Turner's liquor store, this very place.
'They never caught 'em,' said the liquor store clerk, who was actually the same Ike who'd just stepped through a door.
'So I heard,' said Earl.
'Hard to figure, that old guy fighting to save my uncle a few dollars' worth of beer.'
'He wore the badge,' said Earl. 'He knew what he'd signed up for. Don't waste no time worrying about him.'
'So what's your poison, sir?'
'You got that Boone County bourbon? Ain't had a lick of that in a time.'
'You want the pint or the fifth.' Earl got out his wallet. He had seven dollars left and nothing else coming in soon. 'How much the fifth?' 'That'd be three dollar.'
'Give me two fifths then. And keep the change, sonny.'
Chapter 54
