Be still. Go back to sleep. Get through this. Get through it.
The next time she woke up, her ability to breathe was like sucking on a clogged straw while a peculiar pressure had developed in her chest, as if a heavy weight had been set on top of her. She made herself calm down and slowly took in the stifling air through her nose and let it go slowly out of her mouth. She smelled blood. The tinny, metallic odor was more obvious along with other unpleasant smells as the heat built in her little prison. The narrow crack above her revealed a sky that was hazy. She tipped her chin down to her chest, and a wave of nausea made her stomach roll. She shut her eyes until it passed, and when it had, she opened them. Here and there, other cracks in the wood allowed the sun to decorate her body with golden stripes over her legs and stomach. Dazed, half awake, lovely, she thought. If only some sort of breeze would slip in, it might give a bit of relief, but it was only wishful thinking. Since coming to the camp, most days had been as still as a corpse.
She shut her eyes again and hummed. Behind her lids, colors spun and shimmered. It was probably midafternoon and only the first full day. She didn’t want to get too far ahead of herself, but if she made it (and she didn’t like to think like that), she had to decide what she could do to stay on. Her confidence at making numbers was shaken, but maybe Peewee would let her try dipping gum. There were a few colored women doing it, and after their bucket was filled, one of the men would usually empty it into a barrel in the back of the wagon. Thing was, Peewee might refuse. She’d not given him the best impression thus far. If that happened, she had no idea where she’d go. With the country deep into the Depression and jobs scarce, now wasn’t the time to be without a way to eat unless she wanted to resort to what some women did, prostituting themselves out. She couldn’t begin to consider such a thing.
She wished she’d not been so quick to part with that three dollars on behalf of Cornelia, because now, she might need it. Her physical discomfort brought her back to the present. Strangely, her hunger and thirst were disappearing. Through the hole, she caught a bit of a cloud slipping by. The patch of blue returned. As she laid there, one image flickered over and over in her mind, and she held on to it because it stood out above all the rest. As the lid was raised, she saw herself stand, and with defiance, she looked Crow in the eye.
Chapter 17
Del
Cornelia administered turpentine to Birdie’s bite by pouring it over the puncture marks. Birdie’s breathing had become more labored, his chest sinking inward as he took in air and creating a strained, whistling noise as he expelled it. He didn’t seem to know where he was or who they were.
Del turned to Preacher. “He married?”
“Naw suh. He stay by hisself. I can bring him with me. My missus’ll look after him.”
Cornelia handed the bottle of turpentine to Preacher and a bag of Epsom salts. “Soak his foot in this for at least fifteen minutes, then put more turpentine on it.”
He said, “Ma’am, please put all this under my name in that book you keep.”
Cornelia raised a hand and waved away his words.
“It ain’t necessary.”
“Sure do ’preciate it, ma’am.”
Del said, “Let me know how he’s doing.”
“Yessuh.”
As the wagon pulled away, Del realized he didn’t know anything about the injured man except he couldn’t be more than twenty or so. He didn’t know what his real name was or where he was from. Matter a fact, he didn’t know a thing about any of his work hands. He’d been put into this situation so quick and unexpected, he’d not had time to find out. He made a mental note he’d get to know each one of them.
He turned to Cornelia and said, “Thank you.”
Cornelia waved a dismissive hand as she stared after the wagon.
She said, “He won’t make it the night. I didn’t want to say it where he’d hear me.”
Del tugged on his beard.
He said, “It’s a damn shame.”
She said, “Ain’t it, though?”
Shaking her head, she went back into the commissary. Del picked up Ruby’s reins and started for Peewee’s office to tell him about Birdie. After everything that had gone on, he’d forgot about Cobb’s truck. There it sat, still parked neatly under the lean-to, adding to the mystery. He was still studying it when Peewee came out and locked his door.
He came over to Del and said, “Good day?”
“It was ’til Birdie got hisself bit by a coral snake. Cornelia tried tending to him, but she said he won’t make it the night.”
Peewee put his hands on his hips and stared at the ground.
He said, “We done lost two hands as it is.” He looked around. “Won’t Crow here a second ago?”
Del said, “He was. He’s got a visitor.”
Peewee wrinkled his nose. “Woman?”
“Yeah.”
“Damn. Whenever she shows up, he gets even meaner, if you can believe it. It’s getting to be some tough times. Lost a couple hands, one’s sick, the other ’cause of that damn fool Crow. Now Ballard’s gone and Birdie’s been snake bit.”
Del hated to have to share more troubles, but it was only right to let Peewee in on Cobb.
He said, “I reckon now’s as good a time as any to tell you, but we got one more gone.”
Peewee’s shoulders drooped. “Who else?”
“Cobb. I’m thinking he’s done run off. Course, Crow went on and on about him not making his numbers. He might of got scared after Ballard died, thinking there’d be some changes with boss men. Who knows? Either way, he didn’t meet the work wagon this morning. I sent Georgie to his place once I got my men going to see if he was sick. Then I checked myself at dinner time. He won’t there, but he didn’t take none of his things. I don’t reckon he came with much, ’cept that truck of his and there it sits. Seems odd he didn’t take it.”
“Maybe not. He said it had radiator problems. Plus, if he took off in the middle of the night, he wouldn’t want to make a bunch a noise starting it up.”
Del said, “True. Still, I can’t hardly believe he’d leave it behind.”
“Well, if he owes Swallow Hill, I’m gonna have to have him hauled back here by the sheriff. I’ll have to put the word out so deputies can keep a lookout on the main roads.”
“What’ll happen if he’s caught?”
Peewee rubbed his head. “Anyone leaves owing money generally gets a few lashes.”
“You’d have him whipped?”
Peewee raised his shoulders. “Can’t be helped. He done wrong by leaving, he has to answer for it.”
“Couldn’t you take the truck as payment?”
“Company ain’t gonna like it.”
“What if he don’t owe?”
“That would make a difference. He’s a free man to come and go, then.”
Del said, “Let’s check the commissary.”
They headed over to the building. Del had always known this to be standard practice at most camps. Runaways got treated as criminals, and he hoped for Cobb’s sake his debt was free and clear. Cornelia was behind the counter, and so was Otis.
Peewee said, “Hey, you up to date in your ledger, Otis?”
“Always.”
“Great. What’s on Cobb’s account? What’s he owe?”
Otis said, “I ain’t even got to look. He don’t owe nothing. He don’t buy much, and when he does, he pays cash. Been paying that a way since he got here.”
Del relaxed, but this only puzzled him more. What would make the kid come to a camp and do this sort of work if he had money?
Otis, always nosy, said, “Why?”
Peewee said, “He took off. Must’ve decided life at Swallow Hill won’t to his liking.”
Cornelia looked troubled, and Del thought he saw a hint of sad too.