“No. In the Landes there is yellow gorse in between the pines.”
“And they don’t work the trees for turpentine with chain gangs either,” Roger said. “This is all convict labor country through here.”
“Tell me how they work it.”
“It’s pretty damned awful,” he said. “The state contracts them out to the turpentine and lumber camps. They used to catch everyone off the trains during the worst of the Depression. All the people riding the trains looking for work. Going east or west or south. They’d stop the trains right outside of Tallahassee and round up the men and march them off to jail and then sentence them to chain gangs and contract them out to the turpentine and lumber outfits. This is a wicked stretch of country. It’s old and wicked with lots of law and no justice.”
“Pine country can be so friendly too.”
“This isn’t friendly. This is a bastard. There are lots of lawless people in it but the work is done by the prisoners. It’s a slave country. The law’s only for outsiders.”
“I’m glad we’re going through it fast.”
“Yes. But we really ought to know it. How it’s run. How it works. Who are the crooks and the tyrants and how to get rid of them.”
“I’d love to do that.”
“You ought to buck Florida politics some time and see what happens.”
“Is it really bad?”
“You couldn’t believe it.”
“Do you know much about it?”
“A little,” he said. “I bucked it for a while with some good people but we didn’t get anywhere. We got the Bejesus beat out of us. On conversation.”
“Wouldn’t you like to be in politics?”
“No. I want to be a writer.”
“That’s what I want you to be.”
The road was unrolling now through some scattered hardwood and then across cypress swamps and hammock country and then ahead there was an iron bridge across a clear, dark-watered stream, beautiful and clear moving, with live oaks along its bank and a sign at the bridge that said it was the Senwannee (
They were on it and over it and up the bank beyond and the road had turned north.
“It was like a river in a dream,” Helena said. “Wasn’t it wonderful so clear and so dark? Couldn’t we go down it in a canoe some time?”
“I’ve crossed it up above and it’s beautiful wherever you cross it.”
“Can’t we make a trip on it sometime?”
“Sure. There’s a place way up above where I’ve seen it as clear as a trout stream.”
“Wouldn’t there be snakes?”
“I’m pretty sure there’d be a lot.”
“I’m afraid of them. Really afraid of them. But we could be careful couldn’t we?”
“Sure. We ought to do it in the winter time.”
“There are such wonderful places for us to go,” she said. “I’ll always remember this river now and we saw it only like the lens clicking in a camera. We should have stopped.”
“Do you want to go back?”
“Not until we come to it going the other way. I want to go on and on and on.”
“We’re either going to have to stop to get something to eat or else get sandwiches and eat them while we drive.”
“Let’s have another drink,” she said. “And then get some sandwiches. What kind do you think they’ll have?”
“They ought to have hamburgers and maybe barbecue.”
The second drink was like the first, icy cold but quick melting in the wind and Helena held the cup out of the rush of the air and handed it to him when he drank.
“Daughter, are you drinking more than you usually do?”
“Of course. You didn’t think I drank a couple of cups of whisky and water every noon by myself before lunch did you?”
“I don’t want you to drink more than you should.”
“I won’t. But it’s fun. If I don’t want one I won’t take one. I never knew about driving across the country and having our drinks on the way.”
“We could have fun stopping and poking around. Going down to the coast and seeing the old places. But I want us to get out west.”
“So do I. I’ve never seen it. We can always come back.”
“It’s such a long way. But this is so much more fun than flying.”
“This is flying. Roger, will it be wonderful out west?”
“It always is to me.”
“Isn’t it lucky I’ve never been out so we’ll have it together?”
“We’ve got a lot of country to get through first.”
“It’s going to be fun though. Do you think we’ll come to the sandwich town pretty soon?”
“We’ll take the next town.”
The next town was a lumbering town with one long street of frame and brick buildings along the highway. The mills were by the railroad and lumber was piled high along the tracks and there was the smell of cypress and pine sawdust in the heat. While Roger filled the gas and had the water, oil and air checked Helena ordered hamburger sandwiches and barbecued pork sandwiches with hot sauce on them in a lunch counter and brought them to the car in a brown paper bag. She had beer in another paper sack.
Back on the highway again, and out of the heat of the town, they ate the sandwiches and drank cold beer that the girl opened.
“I couldn’t get any of our marriage beer,” she said. “This was the only kind there was.”
“It’s good and cold. Wonderful after the barbecue.”
“The man said it was about like Regal. He said I’d never be able to tell it from Regal.”
“It’s better than Regal.”
“It had a funny name. It wasn’t a German name either. But the labels soaked off.”
“It’ll be on the caps.”
“I threw the caps away.”
“Wait till we get out west. They have better beer the further out you get.”
“I don’t think they could have any better sandwich buns or any better barbecue. Aren’t these good?”
“They’re awfully good. This isn’t a part of the country where you eat very good either.”
“Roger, will you mind terribly if I go to sleep for a little while after lunch? I won’t if you’re sleepy.”
“I’d love it if you went to sleep. I’m not sleepy at all really. I’d tell you if I was.”
“There’s another bottle of beer for you. Dammit I forgot to look at the cap.”
“That’s good. I like to drink it unknown.”
“But we could have remembered it for another time.”
“We’ll get another new one.”
“Roger, would you really not mind if I went to sleep?”
“No, beauty.”
“I can stay awake if you want.”
“Please sleep and you’ll wake up lonely and we can talk.”
“Good night, my dear Roger. Thank you very much for the trip and the two drinks and the sandwiches and the unknown beer and the way down upon the Swanee River and for where we are going.”
“You go to sleep, my baby.”
“I will. You wake me up if you want me.”
She slept curled up in the deep seat and Roger drove, watching the wide road ahead for stock, making fast time through the pine country, trying to keep around seventy to try to see how much he could get over sixty miles
