reappeared at the window.
“Mighty fine car you got there,” he said, “but she sure takes the gas, don’t she? That’ll be twenty-eight, sixteen.”
I handed two twenties to Etta Mae, who passed them to him. “Be right back with your change.” And he dashed off, the oily rag flopping from his back pocket.
“Industrious young man, isn’t he?” I said. When he returned with the change, I leaned over and asked, “Ah, Mr. Junior? Are we far from Pearl’s cabins?”
Leaning over with his hands on his knees, he studied us for a few minutes. “No’m, not far. ’Bout a mile or so. Y’all not here for the fishin’, are you?”
“Just passing through,” Etta Mae said, picking up on what I had told Bud earlier, “but we need to stop for the night.”
“Well,” Junior said, “they mostly take them that wants to fish an’ stuff like ’at. A few others slip in now an’ then. But it’ll do for the night, I reckon.”
As Etta Mae thanked him and turned the ignition, he slapped the roof of the car and said, “Y’all be careful now.”
Pulling out onto the road, Etta Mae said grimly, “He didn’t quite give Pearl a glowing recommendation, did he?”
“Beggars can’t be choosers, I guess,” I said. Then sitting up, I pointed to a sign. “Look, Etta Mae, the hospital’s up that street. Just think, Mr. Pickens is only a little way from us. We could go see him now.”
Etta Mae took her lower lip in her teeth, then shook her head. “No, let’s wait. I think we ought to check in at Pearl’s first and be sure we have a place to sleep. Then if you’re not too tired, we can come back. Visiting hours are usually till nine, so there’s plenty of time.”
“You’re right,” I agreed. “From the way everybody’s talking, Pearl might be our only hope for a bed. Let’s get that settled, then see how we feel.” Actually, at the thought of Mr. Pickens being so near, I was feeling quite rejuvenated.
The feeling didn’t last long as we passed small clapboard houses, looking dismal and rain sodden, interspersed with trailers, all with blue television lights emanating from their windows. Cars of all stripes and ages, a few up on blocks, filled the yards as wellas the driveways. Large yellow plastic toys—tricycles and baby slides—had been abandoned in the yards.
After almost a mile of this unedifying stretch of road, Etta Mae turned in beside Pearl’s Bait & Tackle and drew up in front of a small office with peeling paint and a listing porch. Several, but not many, other cabins were dotted around under the trees, and as we got out of the car, I could hear the rippling sound of a stream behind the cabins.
We walked into what seemed to be a one-room cabin and Etta Mae dinged the bell on the counter. A thin, morose-looking man, badly in need of a shave and dressed in overalls, came out of a bathroom. I knew because the sound of flushing followed him.
“Good evening,” I said, as he approached the counter. “We’d like two cabins, please.”
“Ain’t got but one. Prob’bly the last empty ’un in the county. Number twelve, down by the creek.”
“Oh, well. Well, we’ll take it.”
“Be fifty dollars,” he said, “for one. Sixty-five for two. In advance.”
Holding my pocketbook below the counter so he couldn’t see what was in it, I handed him the exact amount. “We don’t think it’ll be necessary, but we might want to stay another night. Will that be all right?”
“Better decide early an’ get it paid for,” he said, turning a form around for me to sign. “These things go fast.”
I can’t imagine why
, I thought but didn’t say. The walls of the office were covered with signs and posters, fishing rods and mounted fish, and other piscatorial paraphernalia. I wondered if Sam, who loved to fish, would be impressed with the place. From what I’d seen so far, I wouldn’t be recommending it.
Trying to be friendly as he passed a key attached to a wooden paddle across the
“Mighty fine car you got there,” he said, “but she sure takes the gas, don’t she? That’ll be twenty-eight, sixteen.”
I handed two twenties to Etta Mae, who passed them to him. “Be right back with your change.” And he dashed off, the oily rag flopping from his back pocket.
“Industrious young man, isn’t he?” I said. When he returned with the change, I leaned over and asked, “Ah, Mr. Junior? Are we far from Pearl’s cabins?”
Leaning over with his hands on his knees, he studied us for a few minutes. “No’m, not far. ’Bout a mile or so. Y’all not here for the fishin’, are you?”
“Just passing through,” Etta Mae said, picking up on what I had told Bud earlier, “but we need to stop for the night.”
“Well,” Junior said, “they mostly take them that wants to fish an’ stuff like ’at. A few others slip in now an’ then. But it’ll do for the night, I reckon.”
As Etta Mae thanked him and turned the ignition, he slapped the roof of the car and said, “Y’all be careful now.”
Pulling out onto the road, Etta Mae said grimly, “He didn’t quite give Pearl a glowing recommendation, did he?”
“Beggars can’t be choosers, I guess,” I said. Then sitting up, I pointed to a sign. “Look, Etta Mae, the hospital’s up that street. Just think, Mr. Pickens is only a little way from us. We could go see him now.”
Etta Mae took her lower lip in her teeth, then shook her head. “No, let’s wait. I think we ought to check in at Pearl’s first and be sure we have a place to sleep. Then if you’re not too tired, we can come back. Visiting hours are usually till nine, so there’s plenty of time.”
“You’re right,” I agreed. “From the way everybody’s talking, Pearl might be our only hope for a bed. Let’s get that settled, then see how we feel.” Actually, at the thought of Mr. Pickens being so near, I was feeling quite rejuvenated.
The feeling didn’t last long as we passed small clapboard houses, looking dismal and rain sodden, interspersed with trailers, all with blue television lights emanating from their windows. Cars of all stripes and ages, a few up on blocks, filled the yards as wellas the driveways. Large yellow plastic toys—tricycles and baby slides—had been abandoned in the yards.
After almost a mile of this unedifying stretch of road, Etta Mae turned in beside Pearl’s Bait & Tackle and drew up in front of a small office with peeling paint and a listing porch. Several, but not many, other cabins were dotted around under the trees, and as we got out of the car, I could hear the rippling sound of a stream behind the cabins.
We walked into what seemed to be a one-room cabin and Etta Mae dinged the bell on the counter. A thin, morose-looking man, badly in need of a shave and dressed in overalls, came out of a bathroom. I knew because the sound of flushing followed him.
“Good evening,” I said, as he approached the counter. “We’d like two cabins, please.”
“Ain’t got but one. Prob’bly the last empty ’un in the county. Number twelve, down by the creek.”
“Oh, well. Well, we’ll take it.”
“Be fifty dollars,” he said, “for one. Sixty-five for two. In advance.”
Holding my pocketbook below the counter so he couldn’t see what was in it, I handed him the exact amount. “We don’t think it’ll be necessary, but we might want to stay another night. Will that be all right?”
“Better decide early an’ get it paid for,” he said, turning a form around for me to sign. “These things go fast.”
I can’t imagine why
, I thought but didn’t say. The walls of the office were covered with signs and posters, fishing rods and mounted fish, and other piscatorial paraphernalia. I wondered if Sam, who loved to fish, would be impressed with the place. From what I’d seen so far, I wouldn’t be recommending it.
Trying to be friendly as he passed a key attached to a wooden paddle across the
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