The Pilgrim Song, page 9
Josh said not a word, but Lewis managed to smile. “Take us to Georgia, Clint.”
“Yes, sir.” He started the engine and then got in behind the wheel and said, “It’s a long way.”
“We’ll make it,” Hannah said with a confident smile. Jenny, however, was in tears.
Kat was squeezed in between Hannah and Clint, almost sitting on his lap. “I think you are our guardian angel, Clint.”
Clint laughed and put the truck in gear. He pulled out of the driveway, saying, “Lots of things I don’t know, but I’m positive about one thing—I’m no angel.”
The truck moved slowly away from the brownstone mansion, mingling with the busy New York City traffic. Lewis Winslow, sitting in the back, caught one final glimpse of the estate and knew that life would never again be the same for his family. He closed his eyes, remembering some of the happier times he and the children had had in the short time they’d lived there. He put his head down as the truck rumbled through the streets of Manhattan. Georgia seemed like another world to him, and in his heart he said good-bye to all he had ever known.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A Long, Tiring Journey
A solid gust of frigid air struck the old Studebaker, nearly wrenching the wheel from Clint’s hands. We picked a bad time to be on the road, he thought as he brought the truck back to the right side of the highway. But then, I guess we didn’t have much choice.
The weather had roughed up the land, and the late-afternoon November sun was nothing but a pale disk, giving meager light and no heat. Glancing to his right, Clint noted the weariness etched on the faces of both Hannah and Jenny. Recent events had been hard on them.
They had just crossed into Maryland, and he kept close watch for a place to camp. Twenty minutes later he crossed a small bridge and, putting on the brakes, eased the truck down onto a dirt road that paralleled the stream. He brought the truck to a halt and turned to say, “We’d better stop for the night while we’ve got light enough to see by.”
Jenny said nothing, but Hannah, who was sitting next to Clint, found a smile, weary though she was. “It’s been a long trip. How far do you think we’ve come?”
“We’re almost to Baltimore. I guess we’ve made close to two hundred miles.” Getting out of the car, Clint stamped his feet to restore circulation, then moved to the back and opened the gate. “Everybody out,” he said cheerfully.
Kat, bundled in the warmest clothes she owned, had transferred to the back an hour earlier and fallen asleep. She came awake at once and jumped down to the ground. She stamped her feet and said, “Where are we?”
“Almost to Baltimore. You fellas all right?”
Lewis was wedged in, his back against some boxes, a mound of blankets pulled up over him. Slowly he stirred and got out stiffly. His face was pale in the late afternoon light, and he looked around for a moment without speaking. The trip had been hard on him. He was unaccustomed to roughing it, and now the cold wind nipped at his face. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his overcoat and said, “We staying here tonight?”
“It’s not fancy, but it’s free,” Clint said. He glanced at the mound of blankets in the back of the truck and realized that Joshua had not moved. Clint called again but got no response. “See if you can get him out of there, Mr. Winslow. We’re gonna have to work quick before it gets dark.”
“All right.” Lewis crawled back into the truck and began pulling at the still form, calling Josh’s name.
Clint leaped up in the back and grabbed the tent and tossed it on the ground, then jumped down. “We’ll set this up against those trees. They’ll be a breaker for that north wind.”
When they got the tent opened up, Joshua finally descended from the truck, but the odor of alcohol was on him, and his replies were short. Clint showed the two men and Kat how to put up the tent. It was a fine wall tent, large enough for the women to get in out of the cold, and as soon as it was ready, Clint jumped back in the truck. He came out bearing three folding cots under his arms and bent to set them up inside the tent. “Better get all the cover you can, Hannah,” he said.
She smiled faintly. “You’re so good to think of all these things, Clint. We would have been sleeping on the ground, I suppose, if you hadn’t brought these cots.”
Clint said, “This’ll be better for you ladies, and the men can sleep in the truck. Well, we’d better get a fire going. Think you could break out some grub and the cooking gear while I build a fire?”
“Of course,” Hannah replied. She was wearing a wool dress that reached well below her knees. At Clint’s advice she was wearing thick stockings and her heaviest pair of shoes, which were not designed for outdoor weather. “Come on, Jenny, let’s cook up a good meal. I think we all need it.”
Clint had brought a box of kindling and stashed some firewood against the side of the truck bed. He had planned ahead for cooking and knew that most of the burden would fall on his shoulders. Quickly he built a small fire, beginning with the kindling and then adding some sticks. He doused it all with a little kerosene and touched it off with a match. He stood back, feeding it until a fire blazed, making a cheerful crackling that filled the air as the darkness deepened.
The supper was simple. Hannah had brought along some steaks from the remaining food in the kitchen, and now she put the skillets on the grill that Clint had set over the fire. Soon the smell of cooking meat was sharp in the air. Jenny had opened several cans of beans and poured them into a large saucepan, heating them until they bubbled.
“Smells good,” Clint said cheerfully as he drew near. “Kat, get the dishes and some knives and forks.”
Kat willingly found the dishes, and soon all of them were eating. They ate standing up, for the ground was cold. Clint relished the steak and said, “You’re a good cook, Hannah.”
“Anyone can cook steaks.”
“Not me,” Clint said. “And I’ve had some pretty bad ones in restaurants once in a while.”
Lewis ate slowly. He enjoyed the coffee that Hannah and Jenny had made in the large pot, but the day’s travel had been physically hard on him. Even more trying were all the thoughts that troubled his mind; the uncertainty of what lay ahead was wearing him down. As soon as he finished his meal, he murmured, “I think I’ll turn in.”
“Good night, Father,” Hannah said. Seeing his despondency, she hugged him warmly, saying, “We’re on our way. We’ll be in our new home soon.”
Lewis tried to take comfort, but his face was taut as he moved stiffly away from the fire. After Lewis left, Joshua finished his meal slowly, not eating very much. He had been drinking heavily, and finally, without even a good-night, he moved off to join his father in the shelter of the truck.
Clint called after him, “Let that canvas down over the back. It’ll keep some of the heat in, Josh.”
“I’m not ready to go to bed yet,” Kat said. “Why, it’s only eight o’clock.”
“You almost went to sleep while you were eating.” Clint grinned.
“I know, but I want to sit up for a while.”
“You can help us clean up,” Hannah said. They all pitched in until finally Clint threw a blanket on the ground and sat down close to the fire. Kat came over and sat close to him, staring into the fire. “I bet you’ve camped out a lot, haven’t you, Clint?”
“Quite a bit. Used to go out and stay all night chasing foxes. I had me a fine coon hound.”
“What did you do when you caught one? You didn’t eat it, did you?” Kat looked up into his face.
“No, we didn’t even try to catch them. We just liked to hear the dogs chasing them. Every man could tell his own dog’s baying, and we could figure out exactly what they were doing.”
Hannah was tired but was reluctant to go to bed. She got a blanket and sat down by the fire, looking up at Jenny. “Come on and let’s soak up some of this warmth. That tent’s going to be cold.”
Jenny sat down beside her, and for a while a silence played over the small group. Kat shivered, and Clint put his arm around her and pulled her close. “You wrap up good when you go to bed, and keep your socks on. Maybe put on a couple of pairs.” He looked up at the sky and said, “It’s not going to snow, but it’ll be pretty nippy.”
“I’ve never slept outside,” Hannah murmured. She looked across the fire at Clint, and she was thankful for his presence there. He made a strong shape as he sat on the blanket holding Kat loosely within the circle of his arm. The fire threw flickering shadows over his face, and he seemed preoccupied staring into the blaze. What would we have done if he hadn’t come along? I can’t imagine it. . . .
For the next hour the four sat there, Clint doing most of the talking. He had traveled a great deal, and Hannah listened intently as he spoke of his adventures. Finally he said, “I guess we’d better get to bed. I want to get an early start tomorrow. We’ll go through Washington in the morning, and then we’ll see how far we can get into Virginia before we make camp.”
Reluctantly Hannah rose, and Jenny followed her. “Good night,” they said in unison.
Kat rose and said, “There are no bears around or anything like that, are there?”
“Nope. Plumb civilized around here.”
Suddenly the girl threw her arms around Clint and hugged him. “Good night, Clint.”
Clint Longstreet was touched by Kat’s affection for him. He could not remember the last time he’d received so much attention from a child, which he considered Kat to be. He hugged her tightly, then said, “All right, you sleep tight, punkin.”
Kat accompanied the two women to the tent, where they all stepped inside. But Kat suddenly stopped. “What about a bathroom?”
Hannah smiled. She was unaccustomed to having to think of such things. Bathing and sanitary facilities had always been something she had taken for granted, but now, however, she knew it would be different. “Just step outside and find a bush to hide behind, Kat.”
Kat gave her a startled look, then grinned. “All right.”
As soon as Kat left, Hannah glanced at Jenny. “It’s a little different from the life we’ve known, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. I’ll never get used to it!”
“Oh yes, you will. It’ll be fine.” She began to arrange the blankets on her cot, then sat down and put on another pair of socks. When Kat came back, Hannah got up and saw to it that the girl was under her blanket, then said, “Well, excuse me.”
When she stepped outside in the darkness and moved around toward the back of the tent, she saw Clint still sitting in front of the fire. He was staring into it motionless, and once again a warm rush of gratitude came to her. We all depend on him. What would we do if he got sick? We’d be helpless. She took one more look at him, then turned into the darkness.
****
Breakfast the next morning was a strain for all of them. Apparently only Kat had slept soundly. The faces of the others were drawn and pale as they emerged from their sleeping places in the scant light of dawn. Clint had awaked before anyone else to build up the fire and start breakfast. Now he said, “Come and get it. We’ve got a lot of miles to cover today.”
As soon as they had finished their bacon, eggs, and coffee, Clint helped the men break down the tent and pack it. The women washed the dishes and repacked them, and soon they all piled into the truck. “I’m already getting sick of this blasted truck!” Joshua complained as he crawled into the back. Hannah wanted to chide Josh about his drinking but knew it would be useless.
They passed through Washington, D.C., in the morning, and Kat wanted to go see the Capitol building, but Hannah shook her head. “We don’t have time. We’ve got to get home.”
Clint looked at her and smiled slightly. Well, he thought, she’s talking about their new place as home, and I reckon that’s good.
They traveled all day, stopping several times to stretch their legs while Clint added water to the radiator. The Studebaker had a slow leak in the cooling system, and Clint had brought along a five-gallon jug to keep it filled. He also checked the oil and tinkered with the engine constantly. He knew the engine was their salvation. If it stopped running, they would be in poor shape indeed.
When they made camp that night in central Virginia, Hannah was pleased to discover that she could manage the cooking, such as it was. Jenny took no interest in the chore, but Kat had her nose in everything. As soon as the meal was finished, everyone except Hannah and Clint made for their beds.
Hannah and Clint cleaned up, then sat down on blankets as close to the fire as they could get. “We can make it all right, Hannah,” Clint said. Hannah was weary, but for a time the warmth and cheer of the fire encouraged her. She asked Clint many questions about his early life, and he answered sparingly.
From time to time, Hannah would pick up a stick and poke at the logs and watch the golden sparks fly upward. “Look at that, Clint. It looks like the sparks are mingling with the stars up there.”
“Mighty pretty. I’ve always liked to be out sitting in front of a fire in the woods.”
“Did you hunt a lot when you were a boy?”
“All the time. For us, it was like going to the store. People with money would go buy their meat at the grocer. We had to bring ours down. I must have killed a hundred deer, and no telling how many quail.”
“What do you think you’ll do with yourself—I mean, for the rest of your life?”
Clint laughed. “Guess I’m not making plans that far ahead.”
Hannah was fascinated by Clint Longstreet, for she’d never known anyone like him. “I can’t imagine where I’m going.”
“I don’t even try to imagine,” Clint said. He turned and put his glance on her, his eyes narrowing. She had wrapped a heavy scarf around her neck over her wool cloak, and her eyes looked enormous in the night. He had always thought she had beautiful eyes, large and expressive, and now he saw that she looked lonely—and probably had felt lonely for a long time. “Sometimes,” he said, “life just drifts on for years, and nothing unusual seems to happen, and then something comes along that changes you—changes everything. That’s kind of a frightening thing,” he added thoughtfully. “That’s what has happened to you and your family. But you’re taking it very well, Hannah.”
Hannah was pleased with his compliment. She drew her cloak closer about her and held her hands out to the fire, conscious of the uncertainties of their life. It touched her nerves, and she felt the cold brush of doubt. “I get afraid, sometimes, of what’s going to happen.”
“I suppose everybody does, but we’ll make it.”
“Clint, you really think we will?”
“Sure we will. I don’t know why people are always talking about how hard things are now. It’s always been hard. Life’s no more dangerous now than it was a hundred years ago. Back then a man might have died from fighting Indians. Now he can get hit by a truck. We’re all going to die somehow.”
As he said this, he reflected on his own life. Mostly he remembered small things—the brief flash of a woman’s shining eyes and the time he had drawn down on a magnificent ten-point buck and had refused to shoot because the animal was so beautiful. His life was a series of unrelated pictures that faded out behind him, and now he was headed forward but did not know his destination. He knew there was a melody in the world, for he had heard it, and he knew there was meaning for people, for he had seen that too. But for him the future was a lamp glow of hope far away that flickered dangerously low at times.
Reaching into his pocket, Clint pulled out a harmonica. Placing it to his lips, he began to play a tune. Hannah listened, then when he stopped, she asked, “What song was that?”
“Just an old one I learned a long time ago.”
“Do you know the words?”
Clint put down the harmonica and sang:
“I am a pilgrim and a stranger,
Traveling through this world below;
There is no sickness, toil nor danger,
In that bright world to which I go.
“I got a mother, sister, brother
Who have been this way before.
I am bound to go and see them,
Over on that distant shore.”
“It’s a sad song, I guess, but I’ve always liked it,” Clint said. “Somehow I’ve always felt like a pilgrim in this old world. Never stopping long at any one place.”
Hannah dropped her head and murmured, “I’m a pilgrim too, Clint. My whole family, we’ve all got no place now.”
Clint nodded thoughtfully. “I guess all of us are pilgrims in one way or another. Better get to bed. Another long day tomorrow.” He watched as she rose and said good-night. When she was gone, he poured another cup of black coffee and sat there holding it, wondering what the end of all this would be.
****
They traveled through Virginia all day, and Clint finally pulled off the road just before they crossed the border into North Carolina. “We’ll cook up something good tonight, Hannah,” he said as he opened the door and climbed out.
Hannah smiled back at him, then she and Jenny got out, followed by Lewis and Joshua. They were all stretching and shaking their legs. Lewis looked around the pasture and asked, “Where are we?”
“Almost to North Carolina, Mr. Winslow. If we can get across North Carolina tomorrow, then we’ll be in northwest Georgia the next day—assuming the truck holds up,” Clint said. “Do you think you two could set up the tent by yourselves?”
“Do you think we’re helpless?” Joshua snapped. His face was flushed, and Clint wondered how much liquor he had left. Even during Prohibition Josh apparently had no difficulty finding alcohol, but with the family’s wealth gone, sooner or later the whiskey that Josh had brought would run out. He did not answer Josh but pulled the ax out of the truck and went to chop firewood. He found a dead tree and soon had chopped enough of the limbs off to make fires for supper and breakfast. Grabbing a load under his arms, he started back.
As he approached the truck he grew wary, for a man was facing Lewis and Josh, his voice loud and strident.
