random over the hillsides that sloped down to an area that looked too small to accommodate the road. A creek which was now thinned to an intermittent trickle that loitered along, waited for the fall rains to begin. A sudden speckling across our windshield suggested it hadn't long to wait.
We rattled over the old bridge and half through the town. The road swung up sharply over a rusty single-line railroad and turned left, shying away from the bluff that was hollowed just enough to accommodate one of the service stations.
We pulled into the station. The uniformed attendant came alongside.
"We just want some information," I said, conscious of the thinness of my billfold. We had picked up our last tankful of gas before plunging into the maze of canyons between the main highway and here. Our stopping place would have to be soon whether we found the People or not.
"Sure! Sure! Glad to oblige." The attendant pushed his cap back from his forehead. "How can I help you?"
I hesitated, trying to gather my thoughts and words-and some of the hope that had jolted out of me since we had left the junction. "We're trying to locate some-friends-of ours. We were told they lived out the other side of here, out by Baldy. Is there anyone-?"
"Friends of them people?" he asked in astonishment. "Well, say, now, that's interesting! You're the first I ever had come asking after them."
I felt Bethie's arm trembling against mine. Then there was something beyond Kerry Canyon!
"How come? What's wrong with them?"
"Why, nothing, Mac, nothing. Matter of fact they're dern nice people. Trade here a lot. Come in to church and the dances."
"Dances?" I glanced around the steep sloping hills.
"'Sure. We ain't as dead as we look," the attendant grinned.
"Come Saturday night we're quite a town. Lots of ranches around these hills. Course, not much out Cougar Canyon way. That's where your friends live, didn't you say?"
"Yeah. Out by Baldy."
"Well, nobody else lives out that way." He hesitated. "Hey, there's something I'd like to ask."
"Sure. Like what?"
"Well, them people pretty much keep themselves to themselves, I don't mean they're stuck-up or anything, but-well, I've always wondered. Where they from? One of them overrun countries in Europe?
They're foreigners, ain't they? And seems like most of what Europe exports any more is DP's. Are them people some?"
"Well, yes, you might call them that. Why?"
"Well, they talk just as good as anybody and it must have been a war a long time ago because they've been around since my Dad's time, but they just-feel different." He caught his upper lip between his teeth reflectively. "Good different. Real nice different." He grinned again. "Wouldn't mind shining up to some of them gals myself. Don't get no encouragement, though.
"Anyway, keep on this road. It's easy. No other road going that way. Jackass Flat will beat the tar outa your tires, but you'll probably make it, less'n comes up a heavy rain. Then you'll skate over half the county and most likely end up in a ditch. Slickest mud in the world. Colder'n hell-beg pardon, lady-out there on the flat when the wind starts blowing. Better bundle up."
"Thanks, fella," I said. "Thanks a lot. Think we'll make it before dark?"
"Oh, sure. 'Tain't so awful far but the road's lousy. Oughta make it in two-three hours, less'n like I said, comes up a heavy rain."
We knew when we hit Jackass Flat. It was like dropping off the edge. If we had thought the road to Kerry Canyon was bad we revised our opinions, but fast. In the first place it was choose your own ruts.
Then the tracks were deep sunk in heavy clay generously mixed with sharp splintery shale and rocks as big as your two fists that were like a gigantic gravel as far as we could see across the lifeless expanse of the flat.
But to make it worse, the ruts I chose kept ending abruptly as though the cars that had made them had either backed away from the job or jumped over. Jumped over! I drove, in and out of ruts, so
We rattled over the old bridge and half through the town. The road swung up sharply over a rusty single-line railroad and turned left, shying away from the bluff that was hollowed just enough to accommodate one of the service stations.
We pulled into the station. The uniformed attendant came alongside.
"We just want some information," I said, conscious of the thinness of my billfold. We had picked up our last tankful of gas before plunging into the maze of canyons between the main highway and here. Our stopping place would have to be soon whether we found the People or not.
"Sure! Sure! Glad to oblige." The attendant pushed his cap back from his forehead. "How can I help you?"
I hesitated, trying to gather my thoughts and words-and some of the hope that had jolted out of me since we had left the junction. "We're trying to locate some-friends-of ours. We were told they lived out the other side of here, out by Baldy. Is there anyone-?"
"Friends of them people?" he asked in astonishment. "Well, say, now, that's interesting! You're the first I ever had come asking after them."
I felt Bethie's arm trembling against mine. Then there was something beyond Kerry Canyon!
"How come? What's wrong with them?"
"Why, nothing, Mac, nothing. Matter of fact they're dern nice people. Trade here a lot. Come in to church and the dances."
"Dances?" I glanced around the steep sloping hills.
"'Sure. We ain't as dead as we look," the attendant grinned.
"Come Saturday night we're quite a town. Lots of ranches around these hills. Course, not much out Cougar Canyon way. That's where your friends live, didn't you say?"
"Yeah. Out by Baldy."
"Well, nobody else lives out that way." He hesitated. "Hey, there's something I'd like to ask."
"Sure. Like what?"
"Well, them people pretty much keep themselves to themselves, I don't mean they're stuck-up or anything, but-well, I've always wondered. Where they from? One of them overrun countries in Europe?
They're foreigners, ain't they? And seems like most of what Europe exports any more is DP's. Are them people some?"
"Well, yes, you might call them that. Why?"
"Well, they talk just as good as anybody and it must have been a war a long time ago because they've been around since my Dad's time, but they just-feel different." He caught his upper lip between his teeth reflectively. "Good different. Real nice different." He grinned again. "Wouldn't mind shining up to some of them gals myself. Don't get no encouragement, though.
"Anyway, keep on this road. It's easy. No other road going that way. Jackass Flat will beat the tar outa your tires, but you'll probably make it, less'n comes up a heavy rain. Then you'll skate over half the county and most likely end up in a ditch. Slickest mud in the world. Colder'n hell-beg pardon, lady-out there on the flat when the wind starts blowing. Better bundle up."
"Thanks, fella," I said. "Thanks a lot. Think we'll make it before dark?"
"Oh, sure. 'Tain't so awful far but the road's lousy. Oughta make it in two-three hours, less'n like I said, comes up a heavy rain."
We knew when we hit Jackass Flat. It was like dropping off the edge. If we had thought the road to Kerry Canyon was bad we revised our opinions, but fast. In the first place it was choose your own ruts.
Then the tracks were deep sunk in heavy clay generously mixed with sharp splintery shale and rocks as big as your two fists that were like a gigantic gravel as far as we could see across the lifeless expanse of the flat.
But to make it worse, the ruts I chose kept ending abruptly as though the cars that had made them had either backed away from the job or jumped over. Jumped over! I drove, in and out of ruts, so
Similar Books
