Joko (51 page)

But Ginny didn’t pull her hand away, and Johnny felt no hostility in Jack. He knew Jack saw a person who was destined to be close to him. Like Gert and Swan, there was an aura of family about her. He decided that Ginny had received the sasquatch’s warmth. Like a blessing, it was his special gift.

But Polly, still at a distance, was another story. Johnny chose his words carefully, “Jack is from Sumatra. That’s in the South Pacific.”

Ginny let go of Jack’s hand and blinked her long lashes.

Johnny tried unsuccessfully to read her reactions. Suddenly she looked at him and smiled broadly. “He is very special to you … a special friend. That’s wonderful.”

“Yes,” said Johnny, “Jack saved my life three times.”

“Three times?” she exclaimed. Ginny took Jack’s hand again. “I’m glad to meet you, Jack. I’m glad you saved Johnny’s life.”

“Are you people going to stand around all day?” called Gert from behind closed curtains. She sounded annoyed.

“These alterations are nearly ready for delivery. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind giving me a little help today, Johnny.”

Ginny let go of the sasquatch’s hand and lingered briefly, looking into his eyes. Then she smiled at Johnny. “I enjoyed meeting you again, Johnny,” she said demurely.

“Will I see you … around town?” asked Johnny.

“Of course,” said Ginny. “I live here now.”

Johnny

& giny

Jack had seen many Johnnys: Johnny sick. Johnny happy. Johnny in fear and rage. Now Jack was seeing a new Johnny; Johnny in love. Jack understood the mating ritual. All creatures mate and have babies. But Johnny seemed to be avoiding Jack and he wanted to understand, so he tried to link with Johnny.

It had been difficult. “Why are you touching me, Jack?”

Johnny protested.

“Ginny,” Jack replied, trying to explain the reason for his attempt to link.

“What are you talking about, Jack?” Johnny said, nearly shouting. He stomped out of the house. As the door slammed behind him, the clatter of hooves in the distance caught Johnny’s notice. He squinted into the night. Whoever it was seemed in a hurry. Then he heard the creaking of wagon wheels.

“Helloooo Johnny!” called a familiar voice. “Could use me a cup of hot Java if it’s handy, yes?”

It had been three weeks since Johnny last saw Swan.

When the wagon reached the front of the house Gert came on to the porch and stood next to Johnny. Behind her Jack stood partially cloaked in shadow.

Beside Swan sat the doctor, who waved to Gert. “I found this riff-raff in town trying to beg a free meal,” joked Hannington, sticking an elbow into Swan’s rib.

Rocky stood on the steps barking and wagging his tail wildly.

“Hold your infernal two pennies of sass!” yelled Swan to the dog.

“Swan!” called Johnny with delight. “Did you rob the north camps of all the gold?”

“Oh, of course,” laughed Swan. “But I had to scatter most of it on the track to throw the vigilantes off my trail! I’ll have to work for my supper at a kind lady’s store, just to earn my way back to sweet Port Townsend. I’ve had my share of venison and beef. I’ve a yen for oysters and crab.”

The doctor gave Gert a gentlemanly kiss on the cheek. “I thought I’d bring him out here to spend the last few days with Johnny and Jack.”

“What do you mean the last few days?” asked Johnny.

“What about Jack’s lessons?”

“I have to go back to see what the Captain’s done to my oyster beds, and … well, hell, John, you knew I’d have to go sooner or later.”

Johnny lost his smile. “Yeah. I guess it slipped my mind.”

Swan got down from the buggy and tied the reins to the post above a watering trough. The mare dipped her face in to the water and drank eagerly.

“Don’t be sad, boy. I’m not leavin’ for a few days, unless, of course, your aunt decides I’m a nuisance.”

“I know that already,” said Gert as she turned to go to work in the kitchen.

“Well, Johnny, that settles it, I guess,” said Swan with a shrug. He peeled off his hat. Thin grey hairs stuck oddly to his forehead. He looked a bit red faced and windblown.

Swan looked Johnny up and down. “Did I hear

Hannington say something about a girl?”

Johnny looked around at everyone. “Was it in the newspaper?”

“You don’t waste any time, do you, Johnny?” laughed Swan.

Jack had come to welcome these gatherings of his new human family. Gatherings in the wild are special indeed.

Humans, it seemed, knew the value of the gatherings. Here was another way Jack was actually comfortable with the humans. Come what may, the humans gathered, and often
.

“Today I watched Jack shave himself. He’s getting a routine together,” said Johnny, following Swan into the house. “I really think that with a few more weeks …”

Swan shook his head. “I have tickets for the fifteenth, John.”

“That’s not a few more weeks.”

“Long enough to eat you out of house and home, I’d say,” answered Swan, winking at Gert. “No doubt your aunt will be more than glad to see me leave.”

The round kitchen table had an Arthurian quality that evening as the group sat in their familiar places and drank coffee while Gert served something warm and nourishing, but despite the company and the food, Johnny grew more sullen by the minute. Yet the mood around him was almost jubilant.

Hannington and his aunt laughed while Swan related stories of the characters he’d met along the logging trails to the north.

“One night,” said Swan, lighting his meerschaum, “I shared camp with two men, loggers, who worked woods farther West. More toward the islands.” Swan’s eyes twinkled and mirth rippled over his face in anticipation of its eventual release. “It was late at night. The time for tellin’ tales. A new moon can make that happen, you know. But these gentlemen decided to tell me some yarns.”

Swan paused to pour some coffee.

“They asked me if I ever ‘heeered of a Ses -quitch Monkey Man runnin’ the woods?’ I replied, of course, that there ‘ain’t no such thing!’” Swan’s belly began to bounce. “No, they insisted. They said they knew a man who’d seen monkey men throwin’ stones at loggers.”

Swan’s eyes widened and he raised a finger dramatically.

“I can remember the logger telling me; ‘Those beasts raised a ruckus on the cabin all night. Near drove ’em crazy with their howlin’ and stones … said it was because they took some shots at the brutes when they caught them swimmin’ a stream.’

“I said,” continued Swan, “You mean all they did was shoot at them? And they hounded those poor folks all night? I asked one of them if any of the animals was hit. ‘Yes.’ the man says, ‘but only one. It fell into a stream.’” Swan fell silent.

“Then I asked these men if they’d heard if any of the humans were hurt by these sasquatch. ‘Well, no,’ they said.

‘What difference does that make?’ What difference?” repeated Swan.

“So what did you do?” asked Johnny. “Did you tell them you ‘heered’ of a sasquatch.”

“Nawwww. I said sasquatch is a myth.”

After Swan related his story the doctor became pensive. Gert noticed his mood and asked what was wrong.

The doctor shook his head. “Nothing really. You seem to all be more comfortable with this than I am. Maybe it’s because I’m a doctor. My medical training … I’m mindful of the differences, I guess.” He looked at Gert apologetically.

Gert rolled her eyes. “Here we go again,” she said sadly.

“Doc like Jack?” asked the sasquatch, to everyone’s surprise.

Every time the sasquatch spoke it amazed the doctor.

This time he physically jumped. He looked around again at the faces of his friends. His eyes came to rest on Johnny.

“Well? Do you?” said the boy.

“It’s not a question of liking,” began the doctor, still looking into Johnny’s serious eyes.

“I didn’t ask the question. Jack did. Why are you looking at me?”

The doctor lowered his eyes, then met Jack’s gaze head on.

“Of course I like you, Jack,” said the doctor.

“I hear doctor words,” answered Jack. “You hurt for Jack.”

Jack seemed to be unable to find the right words. A look of frustration came over him. Finally he said: “Jack not good talk.”

The doctor smiled sympathetically. “You may be a sasquatch, Jack,” said the doctor. “But I
do
like you, Jack. I’m simply concerned with your welfare.”

Johnny looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

Swan noticed that Hannington’s hand was quivering slightly as he raised his cup of tea to his lips. The doctor returned the cup to its saucer. It made a slight clatter.

“What we all do is very important,” began the doctor.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

No one answered.

“We’ve talked about this before, I know. But it keeps nagging my mind that in Jack we have something too unique not to be shared with the world.”

Johnny looked away from the doctor and looked at Gert.

“Here we go again.”

“I spoke to Costerson,” said the doctor.

“What?” said Swan and Gert simultaneously.

“He visited my office … after he returned to give you your bag. We got to talking.”

Johnny stood up. For a moment he just stared at the doctor. Then he gave his aunt the most horrible look she’d ever seen from the boy. A tear rolled down her cheek. Johnny walked out the door into the night.

“What did you tell him?” Swan said angrily.

Hannington shook his head. “He got suspicious. I don’t know why. Something that happened when he met Jack.”

“He recognized him?” asked Swan.

“No … not exactly,” answered Hannington. “He started talking about the ‘bear’ and then he just came out with it.”

“What?” said Johnny from the darkness of the front porch.

“He thinks that Jack was no monkey-boy or sasquatch at all. Just a throw-back Indian,” said the doctor. “I repeated your story that Jack wasn’t from this area and that Johnny had known the boy from when he fell overboard.” The doctor hung his head. “It did no good. It wasn’t even the money, I don’t think. It was the man’s pride. He’d lost a game, I think.”

Johnny came back into the room. “What’ll Costerson do?”

“He can ruin us,” said Gert. “One word to Mayor Hayes.”

Swan stood up. “It’s my word against his,” he said confidently. “Unless you told Costerson the truth. Did you?”

“No … I couldn’t do that,” said the doctor. “I swear it. But Costerson suspects …”

“Suspects what?” asked Swan.

“He thinks that you are fooled by Johnny and Jack … that we all were.”

Swan sat down and shook his head. He muttered something about Costerson choosing the right person to talk to. But the doctor protested. “I’ve known Costerson a long time and I know a lot of other folks in this town as well. I’m a doctor for … people need to trust me.”

“That’s true,” answered Gert.

Jack cocked his head again then stood up. “Horses,” he said. A moment later the dog began to bark.

They all went to the front porch and watched as a pair of horses galloped up the road toward the farm. One of the riders carried a lantern. Hannington said he recognized Costerson but he didn’t know the other man.

As soon as they reached the house Costerson and the stranger dismounted. “Good evening,” said Costerson, removing his hat.

The night was cold. A nagging breeze blew through the trees making them creak and sway.

Hannington walked down the steps. “What’s this about?”

“A little test is all,” said Costerson. “Then I’ll be on my way.”

“What’s going on?” called Gert from the porch.

“May we come in?” asked Costerson. Hannington looked over his shoulder and repeated his question to Gert. She nodded. “There’s still coffee left, I guess.”

Costerson nodded to his companion, a middle aged

Indian. The man removed his hat. He was dressed in a railroad uniform.

“This is Tim Forster,” said Costerson. “He works for the railroad. His real name is some long Indian thing. We just call him Tim.”

“What’s all this about?” asked Swan. “Something about my bag?”

“You mean Jack’s bag, don’t you, Mr Swan?” replied

Costerson.

“You returned it to me. Do I owe you some freight?”

“May we come in?” said Costerson, halting at the top of the steps.

“Please don’t track mud in the house,” said Gert nervously.

Johnny and Jack stood mutely watching the arrival of the men. Johnny’s mind raced.

Swan looked at Jack and smiled. He whispered to Johnny that he suspected he knew what Costerson meant by the word ‘test’.

No one spoke as the group situated itself around the kitchen. “I’m afraid we’re out of chairs,” said Gert. “Won’t you two be seated?”

“We can’t stay too long. But a cup of coffee would be fine,” said Costerson, remaining where he stood. “I’ll be brief and to the point. I got to thinking after we met. Something about Jack didn’t seem right. I guess we all know that the bear that Mr P. T. Barnum contracted for wasn’t a bear.”

Johnny cleared his throat. “If this is about me and my deal. I did my part. And I still don’t know what you did with the animal.” He looked at Swan, who simply smiled and nodded.

“I know your story. I heard it from everyone. But I haven’t heard it from Jack,” said Costerson.

The Indian looked at the sasquatch. His eyes surveyed Jack for about thirty seconds before he looked at Costerson and shook his head.

“No?” said Costerson looking puzzled. “Ask him.”

The Indian spoke to Jack in a dialect of Salish. Swan told Johnny he was asking Jack the tribe that he belonged to.

Jack didn’t reply, staring blankly at the two men.

Again, and a bit louder, the Indian spoke to Jack.

“Something about Jack’s ancestors,” interpreted Swan.

“He wants it recounted. It’s a way of identifying tribal heritage.”

Jack was silent. Finally Swan looked at Costerson and said: “May I?”

Costerson gave him a quizzical look. “What?”

“Jack,” began Swan. “The Indian gentleman here is asking who your family is?”

Jack looked at Swan and cocked his head. “Family? No family. Johnny, Swan, Gert … family,” said Jack in nearly perfect English.