Queen, page 2
“What can I do for you?” he asked, picking up the check and then smirking as he looked back at her. “Or I should say…what did you have to do for this?”
Queen smiled.
Tilman shivered in his shoes. The smile wasn’t friendly, and he suspected that his raunchy humor had gone awry.
“I want two hundred dollars in cash, and the rest in traveler’s checks,” she said, ignoring the rude innuendo.
Tilman’s eyebrows shot upward. “What would you be wanting with traveler’s checks?”
“Traveling,” she answered. Along with the expression on her face, it was enough to shut him up.
A few minutes later she exited the bank with an envelope in hand and headed for the gas station that doubled as a bus stop to buy a ticket. An hour later she was in her room, shoving the last of her clothes into a bag. By this time tomorrow she should be somewhere in Arkansas, maybe even Oklahoma. She had no notion of how long it took to get to Arizona, and she didn’t care. All she knew was, she was going to ride until she found a place where the sun rose on a clear blue sky and the scent of smoky air and coal dust was nothing more than an ugly memory.
There was one thing she’d left unfinished, however. She didn’t relish the thought of facing Morton Whitelaw again, but it had to be done. She picked up the document from her bed. This would be her last trip to Whitelaw’s Bar.
Morton glanced up when Queen appeared at the doorway. Looking at him always made her think of weasels—his small, dark, close-set eyes; his sharp, beaky nose; his teeth stained from too many years of chewing tobacco.
“What do you want?” he growled, and slung a grimy towel across his shoulder that he’d been using to wipe glasses. He hitched his pants over his sagging belly and ran his fingers through his thin, graying hair.
“I don’t want anything,” she said. “I came to give you the bill of sale. I’ll be gone by six A.M. tomorrow. Until then, leave me the hell alone, Whitelaw. Don’t think just because I’m alone in that house tonight that I’m easy game. I’d hate to think I was the cause of my father having to spend eternity with you laid out beside him on the hill behind the gas station.”
Morton blanched at mention of the cemetery and then turned red in anger. “Why you think any man in his right mind would want you is beyond me, you bitch. You’re mean as a snake and cranky to boot. Men like to bed women, not females with an attitude.”
Queen smiled and tossed the bill of sale on the floor between them much in the same manner that Whitelaw had tossed their money in the alley a few nights before.
“Just remember what I said, Morton. Don’t set foot on the property until I’m gone or you’ll be sorry.”
She left as quickly as she’d come. For a few moments Morton stared at the paper on the floor, half expecting it to detonate. The sudden silence of the bar mocked his fears, and in a flurry of curses he grabbed the paper and stuffed it into his pocket. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow to get here. The first thing he was going to do was tear that damned house down. He’d been needing more parking space for years.
He’d already forgotten that it was his own greed that had cost him so dearly. The years he’d spent trying to buy Johnny Houston out for ten thousand dollars had come and gone. And when the gambler who’d spent most of his life at the table in the back of his bar had died unexpectedly, he’d planned on the daughters being so devastated that he would get the place for half the price. When they were at their lowest, that’s what he’d offered.
Their fury had been shocking. Just as shocking as Diamond Houston’s threat to give the entire house and lot to a fanatic bunch of Bible thumpers. He knew as well as she that it would mean the end of his business. They’d preach him out of house and home in months. He’d been forced to pay three times what he’d offered just to get Johnny Houston’s daughters out of his life for good.
The sound of a door slamming made him jump and then made him curse. Just to prove that she didn’t call all the shots, he walked to the window and stared out at the house across the alley, giving in to the spite he felt obligated to show. But there was nothing to see but shaded windows and the ever-present, gray, weathered walls of Johnny Houston’s home.
No one waved good-bye. It was to be expected. Few had cared. Queen stared hard at the back of the seat in front of her and tried not to think of the hillside behind the bus stop. There was no point in dwelling on the fact that Johnny Houston would now be alone in Cradle Creek, because if the God she’d believed in all these years truly existed, then her father was no longer there, but in heaven.
The bus driver emerged from the gas station, readjusting his belt as he walked toward the bus. Queen knew that it was time. In moments she would be gone. She’d never have to wake up and see coal smoke again. She would never again have to suffer the averted stares and hateful whispers of the people who’d judged her and her sisters as unworthy.
The scent of diesel filled the air as the engine kicked to life and the driver shifted into gear and began to pull out onto the highway. In spite of her determination, Queen found herself staring out the small window beside her toward the sloping hillside, searching frantically for the single white cross on the far side of the cemetery.
The bus began moving, faster…faster. In a sudden panic she stood and then crawled onto the seat on her knees, pressing her face against the glass and fixing her gaze on the mound of freshly turned earth that was her father’s grave. Her vision blurred, her chin quivered, but tears never came. When the last sight of Cradle Creek had disappeared from view, she sat back on her seat, ignoring the curious stares of the two other passengers in the back of the bus.
She’d said her good-bye. It had not been necessary to say it aloud. It had come from her heart.
Her jacket lay on the empty seat beside her. The map that she’d painstakingly marked with yellow crayon beckoned. Queen unfolded it on her lap and shakily traced the yellow line with her forefinger, suddenly anxious to put as much distance as possible between herself and Cradle Creek, Tennessee.
Today was the first day of the rest of her life.
Chapter 2
Outside, the scene became a monotonous blur of roadway and greenery. As night fell, Queen lost interest in the fact that she was heading west. The strain of the past week was beginning to take its toll. She didn’t even notice when the bus passed through Arkansas and into Oklahoma. But when she woke early the next morning as the bus driver pulled into another stop, she knew that she’d arrived into unfamiliar territory.
The Texas Panhandle looked vastly different from the great Smoky Mountains. It seemed to Queen as if sometime during the night a giant rolling pin had flattened the world that she’d known. Gone were the high, mist-covered peaks and the lush growth of evergreen. Gone were the narrow, winding two-lane roads of rural Tennessee, where there was no place to go except straight up the side of a mountain or straight down into a canyon.
She grabbed the seat in front of her and pulled herself upright, staring transfixed out the window. The land was flat, and brown, and it seemed to go on forever. Queen realized for the first time in her life how immense these United States truly were. And it was then that she thought of her sisters and wondered how they’d ever find one another again in a country where there seemed to be no end to the horizon.
“We’ll be here thirty minutes,” the driver called as he stood and stretched. “You can disembark, get a bite to eat, and look around. But don’t wander off. I have a schedule to maintain and won’t wait for sight-seers to come back.”
Queen realized she was gawking and quickly closed her mouth as she gave the world outside the bus another glance. Where in the world would one wander to? she thought. There was nothing to see and nowhere to go.
She, along with a large assortment of passengers that had accumulated from various stops the bus had made while she slept, got off and straggled in a slipshod line toward the smell of fresh coffee and frying bacon.
“Y’all come on in,” a waitress called out as the first of the group came through the door. “Find yourself a seat, I’ll be with you in a sec.”
Queen chose a single stool at the bar rather than a booth. It was too early in the morning for socializing, especially with a bunch of strangers she sincerely hoped she’d never see again.
Two cups of coffee and a plate of eggs and hash browns later, she rose, paid her bill, and headed for the door, intent on stretching her legs for whatever time was left. She was too tall to be comfortable on the cramped bus seats.
The air was warm and dry. She turned around and faced the east, letting the rays of the early morning sun shine a welcome on her face. Her ample bust pressed tightly against her thin cotton shirt as she raised her arms above her head and tilted her head from side to side to loosen her stiff, aching muscles.
The bus driver inside the diner paused in the act of taking a sip of his coffee and stared, lost in the sight of her womanly shape. Although she was a beautiful lady, he’d noticed that she rarely smiled. It had been his experience that women who looked the way she did usually appreciated the admiration of the opposite sex. This one seemed to be the exception to the rule.
Her face was striking…an unforgettable combination of wide, clear green eyes above high cheekbones, a straight, perfect nose, and a mouth that would have beckoned to be kissed were it not for the stubbornness of her chin and the warning her body language gave. Her dark red hair was long and curly, and in the morning sun it looked like a halo of fire. He shuddered, watching her backside sway as she walked away, and tried not to think of how those long legs might wrap around a man and never let him go.
Queen took advantage of the remaining minutes to brush her hair and her teeth in the ladies’ room and wished again for a chance to shower and change. But the driver’s warning bellow quelled the thought. It was time to go.
Two new passengers boarded, a mother and her child, and Queen held her breath, hoping she wouldn’t have to share the empty seat beside her. She wasn’t in the mood for three states of small talk. Fortunately the harried mother chose to sit in the front of the bus with her toddler son.
Three hours later Queen realized she could have saved herself the worry. Ultimately the mother’s location was moot, as the toddler had taken free rein of the aisle of the bus. Queen winced at the mother’s shrill voice and stared out the window as she listened to her repeated but apathetic warnings to the child.
“Frank! You get on back here now. You hear me? I’ll whip your butt if you don’t, and I mean it.”
It was obvious that Frank, the toddler, had heard that impotent threat too many times before to pay close attention. He paused at Queen’s seat and looked up at her, venturing a smile. Then he glanced down at the colorful map sticking half in and half out of her pocket.
“Book?” he said, pointing at the map.
Queen smiled in spite of herself and wondered why the mother hadn’t bothered to wash the child’s face this morning. Remnants of breakfast hung on his chin and down the front of his grimy little shirt.
“No, that’s not a book,” she said softly. “It’s my map.”
“Map.” The toddler nodded as he repeated the word, uncertain what it meant but willing to agree, happy with the gentle tone of her voice and the smile on her face.
“Frank! You leave them people alone, and you do it now! Hear me?”
Frank didn’t wince. Queen wondered if he was even three. His soft brown eyes were huge, but he was small, blond, and spindly, and his bare belly distended suspiciously over baggy shorts. She’d seen many children of similar situations in her lifetime and knew that most of that look could be attributed to malnourishment and lack of care.
She remembered the small bag of dried fruit that she’d stashed in her jacket pocket yesterday to be eaten sometime during the trip. From the look on the child’s face, this seemed to be as good a time as any. She glanced warily across the top of the seats, anxious that she not antagonize Frank’s mother, but the woman seemed unconcerned about where her child was or what he was doing.
Queen dug into the pocket of her jacket, pulled out the bag, and motioned for the child to come closer. Aware that he’d spill it if she just handed him the bag, she opened it and began handing him a single piece at a time. He slid onto the seat next to her with anticipation.
The child’s fist clutched around the bit of dried peach as if he’d just grasped a lifeline in a storm-tossed sea. Unlike some children, he didn’t even bother to investigate what he was putting into his mouth. Instead, it went in, and went down as fast as it had been inserted.
Queen laughed softly. “Here’s another. Chew it first, baby,” she said. “Chew, chew, chew.” She mimicked the motion, laughing to herself as the child flashed tiny teeth and imitated her order.
Half an hour passed as Queen doled out the bits of fruit and Frank chewed. And then the fruit was gone and Frank’s eyes went from the empty bag to Queen. She shrugged and held out her hands to imply what was painfully obvious.
“All gone,” she said.
Frank stared and then nodded. He was fully aware of the word. “Gone, gone,” he repeated. And, in a flash, so was he.
“Where have you been?” Frank’s mother asked. Queen winced as she heard the sharp slap of the mother’s hand on the child’s tiny thigh.
What hurt her even more was the fact that Frank didn’t bother to cry. What could that child’s life have been like that he was already so accustomed to deprivation and pain?
Queen had an urge to stomp to the front of the bus and slap Frank’s mother into the middle of next week, but she knew there was no use. There were thousands just like her, and Queen couldn’t save the world. By this time tomorrow she hoped they’d all be in different states. Responsibility had just taken its last free ride on Queen Houston’s shoulders. She was through fighting other people’s battles and raising other people’s kids.
“But when can you get it fixed?” a man asked, voicing the same question the other passengers had been thinking ever since the bus had ground to a wheezy halt in a small town just across the New Mexico border.
The driver shoved his hat to the back of his head and frowned. “Look,” he said. “I’m a driver, not a mechanic. I’ve called the company. They’ve already dispatched another bus. It’ll be here in two, maybe three hours. Until then, we sit tight.”
“But I’ve got to get to L.A. by day after tomorrow,” the man went on. “If I don’t, I might lose my job.”
The driver shrugged and walked away.
Queen sighed. This delay hadn’t been part of her plan, either, but at least she didn’t have a deadline she was trying to meet. All she had planned was to get to Arizona. After that she’d decide what came next.
Two hours and several angry passengers later, Queen was beginning to change her mind. A small cheer arose in the midst of the weary travelers as they saw a bus pull up and park.
“That’s not the one!” the driver shouted before the crowd moved toward the door. “That one’s a regular, and he’s headed for Colorado, not California.”
Groans and grumbles met his remark. Queen frowned and then, on an impulse, went in search of their driver, who’d just made a fast exit out the door.
“Would it be possible to change my route?” she asked. “I think I’d like to take this bus instead of waiting.”
The driver frowned. “This one don’t go straight into Arizona. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, when he gets into Denver, he’ll just do a turnaround and come back south.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I can always catch another later, can’t I?”
He scratched his head and then finally nodded. “I suppose you can do anything you want to, lady. Wait here, I’ll tell the driver to wait while I get your bag.”
Queen felt a small spurt of excitement. He was right. She could do anything she wanted. Less than thirty minutes later she was on her way, leaving the disgruntled and stranded passengers who were still waiting for the substitute bus to arrive. Queen didn’t care how long it took her to get where she was going. Anything was better than sitting and waiting.
As they traveled north, she noticed that the rivers they crossed were swifter and deeper, the trees were thicker and greener, and the familiar shape of mountain ranges beckoned in the distance. A small, distinct sign on the side of the highway told her all she needed to know: “Colorado State Line.”
Queen looked up toward the distant, snow-capped peaks and felt a tinge of familiarity. They reminded her of the Smokies that had surrounded Cradle Creek, with tops that were constantly lost in a swirl of cloudy mist. She frowned. Remembering Cradle Creek was the last thing she’d intended to do.
The farther they rode, the closer they came to the mountains, and as they entered a small town at the foot of a particularly high peak, the bus began to slow down. Queen sighed. Her legs ached from inactivity. She would be thankful for the chance to move about.
“All out for Snow Gap,” the driver called. “We’ll be here about fifteen minutes. It’s the last stop before Denver, so make it count.”
Queen got off the bus and stretched, then looked around. The geography might be different, but the bus stops were predictably the same. Deciding against riding all night with a greasy hamburger in her stomach, she decided to explore instead and began walking along the small, narrow sidewalk, along a street lined with colorful-looking stores. She would remember thinking later that choosing the hamburger would have been simpler.
A child’s cry pierced the quiet of the small town. Another accompanied it, and Queen turned to look at the scene being enacted on the street two doors down. Without thinking she walked closer, noticing that a man in uniform was trying without success to usher three children varying in size and age into a van. She frowned at the sign on its door: “Colorado Department of Human Services.” Welfare workers! Because of her own childhood, she had an instinctive distrust of the juvenile system.
