The Ridge: The Whisper of the Leaves - Chap. 18

The first thing Marshall noticed when he was jarred awake was the sun streaking through the slats in the car. He quickly realized the jarring was an engine being attached somewhere up or down the line.

Good, he thought to himself as he roused up with a yawn and a stretch.

“Wish I had some water to wash my face.” He mumbled to no one.

“Me, too.”

Marshall jerked his head around and saw a little girl looking at him from just a few feet away. She was about seven or eight, thin and dirty. And she was not alone.

It looked like a whole family had entered the car while he slept. Besides the little girl, there were four other people asleep at the other end of the car. From where he sat, he could make out a man and woman about the age of his parents, plus two boys, one of about fifteen and the other twelve.

Marshall sat up and looked the man over as carefully as he could. Apparently, none of the remainder of the family had noticed the train was now inching along. Once satisfied the family posed no immediate threat, he turned back to the girl.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“Janie. Ya got any licorice?”

“No, I don’t have anythin’ to eat.” Marshall smiled. She didn’t smile back.

“Bank put you out, too,” Janie’s words seemed hollow. Too young, yet, to know what it meant for a bank to take your home, the feeling of the loss had obviously affected her.

“No,” Marshall smiled again and now there was just a hint of a grin from Janie. “I’m just travelin’.”

“Janie, get over here.” Janie’s apparent mother was suddenly sitting up from her makeshift pallet and yelling the length of the boxcar. Janie jumped, startled, and ran back to her family.

Janie’s father was roused by the noise and sat up beside his wife.

“Whats’s’su matter?” He seemed alert, but his eyes looked extremely tired.

“Nothin’,” His wife said, “Janie was just over there botherin’ that boy.”

Marshall knew of course the lie was just for his benefit. The truth was that she didn’t know Marshall and there were too many stories floating around of kids disappearing and being found later, dead under a train trestle somewhere.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Marshall and he smiled at the thought. He was indeed a murderer in the dictionary sense of the word. As he pondered the last 24 hours, the smile turned to a frown.

Marshall had known what he was going to do from the moment he found out about the poker. He did not believe in vengeance, but he did believe in justice. Real justice, not the hand slapping type that the courts had been so fond of in the last few years.

And besides, there was no guarantee the cops would even prove who did it. There wasn’t a whole lot of evidence so they might have gotten off with just that hand slap. But, to Marshall, that wasn’t enough and it sure wasn’t right.

If there was one message Marshall remembered from his Sunday School lessons as a child, it was the phrase “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” He always like that idea because it was short, sweet, to the point and it was full of the sort of equal justice he believed in.

Still, there was a gnawing in his gut that had begun when he lined up Lawrence in his cross hairs… and it was still there. Regardless of his justification, the fact remained that he was now a killer. He would have to live with that knowledge from now on and he could do because he truly did feel justified. But he would never forget it.

“How ya doin,” The father said. “Sorry we intruded on ya home, but we didn’t see ya when we got here. Muh light’s gone dead so we couldn’t see ya. We’ll leave ifn’ ya want us to.”

“No, you’re fine,” Marshall said shaking his head. “I’m just surprised I didn’t hear ya. I musta been awful tired.”

“Know whatcha mean,” the man nodded. “Survivn’ can get awful tirin’, can’t it. By the way, I’m Malcom Scoggins, this is my wife Lizabeth, the oldest boy there’s Bob, the younger one’s Ernie. You met Janie already.”

“Name’s Marshall.”

“First or last?”

“First.”

At this last exchange the two boys stirred and raised to a sitting position.

“Are we movin’ yet,” The older one, Bob, said, stifling a yawn.

“Just barely,” Scoggins answered. “Probably’ll be really clippin’ along in a minute, though. Ain’t that right, Marshall?”

“Wouldn’t doubt it,” Marshall answered the pointed question, then asked, “Where yall from?”

“Missouri,” Lizabeth answered. “Got a home outside of Cape Gerardo.....least we did. Bank decided we didn’t own it no more. Took it all.”

“Liz, that’s enough,” Scoggins said gently. “Marshall’s got problems of his own or he wouldn’t be here.”

If Malcom was digging, Marshall didn’t bite the bait, but simply smiled and stood. But as he did, he was nearly thrown off his feet as the boxcar lurched again and began rolling toward the south.

“Looks like you were right.” Marshall smiled at Malcom.

“You ain’t been on the rails long have ya?” The older man finally asked.

“Not long.”

“Where you from?”

“Not far from here.”

“Thought so. Trouble with the law?”

Marshall ignored the question so Malcolm took the hint and grunted his understanding.

“Sorry,” Scoggins said.

He crawled to his feet and stretched noisily. Marshall noticed “farming” muscles rippling beneath his dirt-soiled undershirt and overalls. He was about Marshall’s size, but beefier with sun dried, leathery skin. The slight hunch revealed the hours he had spent behind a plow. Overall, he looked like the farmer he was before the banks decided otherwise.

Lizabeth looked as much the farmer’s wife as he did the farmer. She wore a print shift which had once been a wheat shorts or flour sack. Her skin was lighter than her husbands and her prettiness had grown tired over the years, but not so much as to completely hide her once beautiful face. There was one thing about her, though, that retained its youthfulness.....her hair. It was as blonde, thick, long and lustrous. Marshall imagined that it was her only vanity, but it was a beautiful one.

“Ain’t she purty,” Scoggins said smiling at his wife.

Marshall, embarrassed, just grinned.

Lizabeth, too used to the fawning of her husband to be embarrassed, just smiled slightly, shook her head. She balled her mane up into a bun and covered it with a net that fell low on her neck. Then, to maintain a sense of civility regardless of the surroundings, she picked up their blankets, folded them neatly and stacked them against the back wall of the car.

“Bob, Earnie, time to get up,” She said in a voice familiar to Marshall. He hadn’t noticed that the two were back asleep.

“Why don’t’cha let ‘em sleep, Momma,” Scoggins said. “It’s not like they got chores to do.”

“No!” She was quietly firm. “Sooner or later we’ll get our feet back under us and when we do I don’t want them boys to be used to sleepin’ and lazin around when there’s work to be done. And you know I’m right.”

Scoggins eyed Marshall sheepishly, but the curl of his mouth revealed that while she directed the kids, he directed the family. From just these few moments with this family, he was beginning to get attached to them. He didn’t know about the two boys yet, they were just now rising, but he liked Scoggins, Lizabeth and little Janie. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of him during the whole discourse.

“Marshall,” Lizabeth said. “We don’t have much here, just a few hard biscuits and some jerky, but you’re welcome to join us.”

“Thanks, Mam,” Marshall answered. “But I don’t want to take from yall. B’sides, I got a little food that I brung with me here, so I’ll be fine.”

“Well, ya got somethin’ to drink?” Scoggins asked. “We got a jug of water here.”

Marshall nodded, “I will take some of that, sir. Thanks.”

The boxcar jerked once more, and the train began speeding up. Soon, it was doing between forty and fifty miles an hour although during the day the train slowed on and off and even backed up occasionally. Lizabeth prepared their meal, such as it was, and asked Marshall to join them, which he did.

“We like to say a blessing before we eat,” Scoggins said. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, sir. Not at all.”

Scoggins nodded then asked a blessing over their food and they all began to eat quietly. With everyone preoccupied eating, Marshall now had a chance to look the two boys over. Bob, the older one was a little smaller than Marshall himself, Ernie, smaller still. Both were blond like their mother and tanned, muscular, and fit like their father. They were somewhat shy and suspicious as youth can be with other youth, but then so was Marshall about them.

“Like baseball?” Ernie finally broke the ice among the three.

“Yea,” Marshall nodded. “Yea, sure.”

“Who’s ya favorite team,” Bob challenged Marshall.

“Cardinals.”

Bob stared at Marshall a moment then gave one firm nod and said, “Good.”

From that point on for the rest of the day, Marshall and Bob thrust and parried as they learned about each other. Ernie chimed in occasionally so as not to lose his place in the exchange. The day went by uneventfully as the train continued to travel toward the south at first and then, following a bend of the track, toward the southwest. Then about 6:00, just before dark, they began to slow and finally came to a stop. Malcolm cracked the door slightly and looked out.

“Where are we, Pa?” Ernie pushed in front of his father at the door to look outside for himself.

“Don’t know, son. Somewhere south of Little Rock I guess.”

“May be Hot Springs or Arkadelphia,” Marshall offered.

“Could be,” Scoggins said.

It turned out that they had not gone as far as they had imagined and were, in fact, only in Little Rock. After it became fully dark, the Scoggins family along with Marshall vacated the car.

“Make sure you get all your things,” Scoggins warned them all. “The car’ll probably be gone when we get back.”

They walked down the track a ways until they came to a trail that led off the railway levy and into a thick grove of mostly pine trees not fifty feet away. While they were in the geographic area of Little Rock, it was obvious that they were outside the city limits. There were no houses around, but Marshall could smell something cooking somewhere in the woods. They all moved cautiously toward the smell and the sound of talking.

Some two hundred yards into the woods, next to a narrow stream of crystal water, they found a camp. Makeshift tents had been thrown up or made from ropes and blankets strung through trees. Lean-tos made from stripped pine saplings and covered with leafy branches were also in evidence. While Marshall had seen many hobos come off the tracks near his house, it was the first time he had ever seen an actual hobo encampment. Or as many people called it in honor of the former president, Hooverville.