Road to Nowhere (9 page)

Kyle wasn’t as tall as most of them—and all of them were so tall these days, not like twenty-five years ago, when it was shooting that counted and not much else. Now they’d have to get in close and pass, or else try for the three-pointers. But Kyle was a good strong boy and didn’t let anyone push him around. Some games he scored more from the free-throw line than from anywhere else.

Jefferson County was up by a few when the buzzer ended the half. Randy leaned back when the teams ran off to the locker rooms, and the whole gymnasium quieted down, and everyone started out to the concessions. It made him feel like the air going out of a balloon.

“Should we get a Coca-Cola?” he asked like he always did, and he and Sue Ann squeezed down to the floor and out into the hall.

“How’s your headache?” she asked.

“I don’t think I even remembered I had it.”

They got their sodas. Gordon Hite was there in his sheriff uniform, and Randy talked to him about the Cherokees’ defense while Sue Ann talked to Artis.

Then Gordon lowered his voice a little, even though it was plenty noisy in the hall. “You heard about the furniture factory?”

“Louise Brown called me,” Randy said. “She said Roland Coates told everybody there today.”

“That’s all we need,” Gordon said. “It was going to happen, though. Roland wasn’t going to pass it on to Jeremy, not after the blowup they had last year.”

“It’ll be the end of an era. Three generations they’ve had that factory.”

“Do you think they’ll close it?”

“I sure hope they don’t.” At the back of his neck there was a little twinge, and Randy wondered if anyone at the concession stand might have an aspirin. “Why would they?”

“We’ll hope for the best,” Gordon said. “But I was thinking about the budget and how maybe we could use another deputy this year, and if the factory closes, that’s going to mean hard times all around.”

“It would be, but I think we’ll manage, and I don’t think we’ll worry about it yet.”

The game was ready to start again and the bleachers were filling up. Randy and Sue Ann went back in and got themselves settled. The teams came running out onto the floor and the fans started whooping. The boys ran their warm-ups, big doughnut eights back and forth and around, pass, pass, pass, shoot.

“Randy!”

He turned around, and right behind him was Everett Colony.

“Why, Everett. Nice to see you.”

“What’s this about the furniture factory closing?” Everett had his usual scowl but seemed fairly equable.

“It’s not closing, at least that I know about. Just Roland Coates is selling.”

“That factory’s been making life unbearable for years with trucks and traffic up and down Hemlock. I wouldn’t mind if it closed.”

Randy had his eye on the referee, holding up the ball in the center of the court.

“Well now, Everett, those trucks would have a better way to get out to the interstate,” he said, and waited a few seconds until just the right moment, “if Gold River Highway got put through.”

The referee tipped the ball and the crowd went deafening loud. Everett was saying something but Randy could only put his hands up to show that he couldn’t hear, and then he turned back around to watch.

It wasn’t a bit difficult to not think about the road or the factory. The game started going a little downhill and Hoarde County got up on top, but not by far, and it was into the fourth quarter before Randy did look back to see if Everett was still there, but he wasn’t.

The Cherokees were fighting hard and Kyle got them tied with two points from the foul line. Then it was back and forth, back and forth, right up to the last minute. Everyone was on their feet when the clock ran out with three more points on the home side of the scoreboard than on the visitor side. Even if it had been the other way, it wouldn’t have hardly made a difference when the teams were both playing their hearts out like that.

Then the whole crowd started moving toward the doors like so much molasses. Randy and Sue Ann waited for the bleachers to clear some.

“Randy!”

He took a breath and turned around. “Good evening again, Everett.”

It did not appear that Everett had enjoyed the game at all, as he was just as agitated as he’d been when their conversation had been interrupted. He may have been even more so.

“I don’t want to hear anything about Gold River Highway except that it’s dead.”

“You know it’s not up to just me, and when we do vote . . .”

There was still plenty of noise, but Everett didn’t need to be screaming. “I’ll tell you how to vote and—”

“No you won’t.”

It was a new voice, and they were both a bit startled at it. Randy blinked just to focus, and there beside them was Wade Harris.

“He can vote however he wants,” Wade was saying, “and you’re acting like an idiot.”

Everett couldn’t even speak, and for a moment Randy was pretty sure that the man was going to explode, or at least some vital organ was going to blow out like a tire. Randy decided to take advantage of the silence.

“Good evening to you, Wade. Sue Ann, let’s go on.”

He scooted. He took Sue Ann’s hand in his and got caught up with the main part of the crowd, and a minute later they were out into the dark night.

They waited there at the curb, and even though it was good and cold, it actually felt nice after the hot gymnasium. Car engines were starting and head lamps coming on, and it was all as much a part of the game as everything else. Randy breathed in the cold air and helped Sue Ann straighten out her coat.

“Well, Randy!” she said.

“I think we got away.”

She was looking back. “I don’t see him coming.”

“I really am afraid Everett’s going to have a stroke one of these days.”

“I think he will! The poor man.”

“And this road thing’s going to go on for months.”

Then Kelly came running out to them with a big coat over her cheerleader outfit and they talked just a minute about the game and she told them she’d have a ride home with her friends, and of course she could really even walk if she had to, they were that close. Then she ran back in, and the parking lot was clearing out, and Randy and Sue Ann walked out to their car.

Halfway there, Randy stopped beside a big black sport vehicle that was just starting up and tapped on the window. The window glided down and Wade’s face looked up out of it.

“Wanted to make sure you were all right and hadn’t suffered too much back there,” Randy said.

“Oh yeah, no problem. I’m fine. He started up yelling when he caught his breath, but I just left him there.”

“Well, thank you. I did appreciate it.”

“Hey, Randy. Don’t let the guy bully you.”

“He has been for a long time, and I try not to let it get to me. But now, Wade, don’t get a wrong idea about him. I’ll vote the way I see best and not just for whoever’s the loudest.”

“Whatever. See you later.”

“Good night, Wade.” The window glided back up and the big car glided away as Randy and Sue Ann clumped over to their own little car.

Sue Ann was in and Randy had closed her door and was walking around to his own side when Kyle came running up to them. He hadn’t even changed out of his uniform yet, but he didn’t seem cold.

“Dad,” he said.

“Good game!” Randy said. He was ready to point out some of Kyle’s finer moments, but the boy had something to say.

“Sheriff Hite wants you. He sent me out to try and catch you.”

“All right, I’ll be right there. Let me get the car started and warming up for your mother, and you go tell him I’ll be right in.”

Trotting back to the gym, he was trying to think what he could have forgotten in the bleachers, as they had their coats, and that was all they’d taken in. Or maybe Gordon was still fretting over the furniture factory.

Sheriff Hite was back away from the twenty or so people still talking. Randy sidled up beside him. “Kyle told me you needed me?”

The sheriff lowered his head and his voice.

“Randy, did I see you and Everett Colony having words up there in the stands?”

“Sure, Gordon, but it wasn’t anything. You know Everett.”

“I do. And he looked even more worked up than usual.”

Gordon Hite was round and jowly, his face set up high on a big long heavy frame. Even with him leaning down, Randy still was looking up.

“It’s this road,” Randy said. “That’s the problem. He can’t abide the thought of it.”

Gordon was nodding slow and deliberate and sort of undecided, about the same as the way he did everything, including think. “Well, it’s not a secret, since it’s public record, even if people don’t always know it. Randy, Everett’s got a concealed-weapon permit.”

Randy was thinking. “What would he want with a gun? I don’t think he hunts, does he?”

“Not that I know of,” Gordon said. “What I mean is, I think you should just keep an eye open. Especially when he’s throwing a fit like tonight.”

It was finally getting clear, at least maybe. “What are you saying?”

“I’m just saying you should keep an eye open.”

“Well, how long has he had the permit?”

“Just got it last week.”

“There’s nothing to that, Gordon. I’m sure there isn’t.”

February 24, Friday

“Joe Esterhouse!”

Joe knew the voice. He had the spark plugs he needed and he was ready to be getting back to the tractor.

“Morning, Luke.”

“Good morning, Joe. Called the farm and Rose said I might catch you here.”

“Just these,” Joe said to the cashier. She took his money and he took his bag and walked out to the parking lot with the reporter beside him.

“I want to ask you a question,” Luke said.

“Go ahead.” They stopped beside Joe’s truck.

“It’s about the county’s long-range plans. Is there anything that’s been on the books longer than Gold River Highway?”

“You might just check with Patsy about that.”

“That’d be work, looking through papers. I figured you’d know.”

Luke should do his own work and let Joe get to his. But it wasn’t easy to be rid of him.

“Nothing longer than Gold River. You have Patsy get you a copy of the plan from 1974. That was the first one we took serious. Look through it and see for yourself what’s been done and what hasn’t.”

“1974. Okay. I’ll check.”

That would be some work. He didn’t feel like listing all the projects they’d put in that year, but he could have. That had been Mort’s first year on the board. The two of them had worked long and hard together, dreaming up parks and improvements and new things. Back then it seemed like putting them in the plan meant they might happen, sometime or other. He knew what Luke would find, that hardly a one had ever come to pass.

“Anything particular from then you wish had been done?” Luke asked. “You personally?”

There were a few. “I’ll just be glad we’ve got done what we have.”

“How about Mort Walker? Wasn’t Gold River Highway one of his pet projects?”

“I think you should get that plan from Patsy. Good morning, Luke.”

“Thanks, Joe.”

Then Joe was out of the hardware store parking lot and away from the questions. Precious little had come of those plans, with money always tight and a board that was never intent on spending it anyway.

And now that there was a chance for something real to happen, Mort wasn’t here to see it.

The herbs, faint but still pungent; the smell of wood everywhere; coffee; soap, almost like fresh flowers; and woodsmoke. And no wind inside!

“Good morning, Eliza.”

“Good morning, Annie Kay, good morning.”

“How are you?”

Another deep inhalation and she was a part of the room. “Very well. And how warm it is in here!”

“Sit by the fire, dear. Warm up.”

Eliza passed the bins of oats and rices and grains, and the apothecary of extracts, and sat in the rocking chair by the woodstove, between the breads on one side and the stacked firewood on the other, beneath the shelf of books.

“Do you need anything, dear, or are you just stopping in?” Annie Kay leaned over from behind the counter. “I don’t think we’ll ever see spring. There’s just no end to this winter.”

“There’s an end, in time,” Eliza said. “I’ll find a few things in a moment. Is Jeanie in today?”

“She’s off today. She’s with Zach at the outfitters.”

“Tell her I was in, when you see her.”

“I will.”

Presently she rose from her place and began her collecting. Oil for the lamps, a spool of thread, a few other things.

“I’ll put those on the account.” Annie Kay looked under her counter. “No mail for you this week. And take a loaf of bread with you.”

“I have enough at home.”

“Go ahead. It’s so good.”

“Thank you, then.”

And then, back into the wind, a difficult acquaintance for the day.

Louise peeked in the window. It was always so dark in there. She went in anyway.

“Well, Louise Brown, howdy!”

It took her a minute to find him, but there he was. “Why don’t you put on a light, Luke? I can’t see a thing.”

“Guess I forgot. It’s always bright in the morning, and then the sun goes up over the building and leaves me in the dark.”

He had his feet up on the desk and his hands behind his head and he might have been sleeping in his chair, just like he did at the board meetings. The computer screen was the brightest light in the room.

Louise flipped the switch on the wall and one little bulb on the ceiling turned on. It hardly made a difference, except to show what a mess the room was. File cabinets and magazines and old newspapers in stacks. “For goodness’ sakes,” she said. “You couldn’t find anything in here.”

“Why would I want to?”

“Because I want to. I want to find a newspaper from fifty years ago.”

“Fifty? Well, let me see.” He got up and she followed him back a hallway and down some stairs, and it got darker and mustier every step. “You want 1956? That would have been Woodrow. No, Ezra. Ezra Dawkins.”

“You know, I think I remember him. With the long white beard?”

“That was Woodrow. Ezra was before him. Here’s a box.”

It said
1956
on the side, and it smelled terrible.