Five Miles to Paradise

21

When Heck came home the other night, I could see it in his eyes. Something was troubling him.

"Can you talk about it?" I asked.

He took off his hat and put it on the table and sat down heavily. The hat was sweat-stained, and Heck's hair was plastered to his forehead. He looked worn out. I placed a cup of steaming hot coffee in front of him, and he gladly accepted it.

"Thanks, Leah," he said, a small smile trying to crack his face.

I sat down opposite him. He needed to bend an ear. Dinner could wait.

"You're right. It's bad. That call I got this morning was from Harley. He phoned to say he'd spotted T-Bone's old heap parked near the old mill pond. Harley was running late. He didn't have time to check thing out. He drove his rig up the road a little ways to the diner and telephoned me from there. Thought I better check it out.

Found Tee Bone's truck by the mill pond like Harley said."

Heck wiped his hands through his hair.

"Dag-gone it, Leah, I hoped the old geeser had a flat tire or was broken down and walked to a friend's house. We asked around. Nobody's seen him. Nothing seems wrong with his truck. Tires are all pumped up good. Engine cranks. Purrs like a kitten. Tank's got gas.

We haven't been able to find hide nor hair of him, anywhere."

"Oh, Heck," I interjected.

"Yeah, I know. I called and called out for him till my voice gave out. We've been searching all day. I thought maybe he'd had a stroke, wandered off, fallen into the pond or something, but we dragged every inch.

Nothing.

I hate to think he's wandered off and is lying in a ditch or a field hurt or dying. We've searched high and low but can't find any sign. Dogs hit on his scent, but it fizzled out. Lost it, not twenty yards from the pond. Then, it started to rain. We had a gulley washer for about an hour.

It's really got me stumped, but for now, we've done the best we could. It's too dark to do anything more.

Best thing to do is start first thing in the morning. Got a bunch of boys who said they'd help widen the search. Sure hate to think that ole T-Bone's out there in the dark alone. That old man hated not to have a roof over his head when the sun went down."

"Maybe you'll find him in the morning. Maybe he saw a friend pass by, hitched a ride home with him, and is having a good ole' three day drunk, somewhere."

"God, I hope so. But that's not likely, Leah. Word's out that we're looking for him. If somebody seen him, they'd have let us know. But thanks for trying to lift my spirits," Heck said.

"Come on. Wash up. I know you probably don't feel like it, but dinner's ready. You have to eat. You'll need your strength tomorrow. You got your work cut out for you."

"You're right on all counts. I have no appetite, but I won't be any good tomorrow if I don't eat something."

"Oh, Heck," I said, "I almost forgot. As if you don't have enough to worry about, Miss Anjohn says she's sure somebody's been messing around in one of her sheds on the back lot. She came over three times today to remind me to say something to you about it. Her rake has been stolen. She's positive."

"Miss Anjohn has put that thing in another shed, or let a neighbor borrow it, and she's forgot who has it. I'm sure that's all it is. Tell her I'm in the middle of something just now. Locating her rake is important, but this has to be tended to first. Tell her I'll get to her as soon as I can, but right now, I'm working on a matter that's life and death."

"Life and death. But Heck, won't that frighten her?"

"Frighten? Not Miss Anjohn. That will just be enough to get her gossip juices flowing. Now, be sure to do as I say and mention life and death at least three times. She's a bit hard of hearing, but with that many times, she should be able to get it. I know Anjohn. She'll forget that rake in two seconds to focus on the latest dirt about somebody. Anjohn's always been that way."

"But I can't tell her anything. And she'll worry me ragged trying to find out what I know."

"I know that. And I'm sorry. I really am. But at least it will get her off my back about the rake. Otherwise, she be hounding the daylights out of me over it, and right now, I just can't spare the time to clean out her sheds."

"Clean out her sheds?"

"Exactly. See, Miss Anjohn is too proud to ask me to come over and clean out her sheds, and too poor to pay somebody else to do it. As sheriff, she has no qualms about reporting a garden tool has been stolen.

It's a game we play.

I don't mind helping the old lady out once in awhile. I've been doing it for years. But now is not a good time. Miss Anjohn is the world's worst busy-body. You've only been here a short while, and you've found that out."

"The hard way," I said, remembering the many times I'd had to endure Miss Anjohn's endless recitations of who was having a baby, who was behind on their store bill, who was mad at the minister, who burned their cake, and it went on and on and on.

I was nice to her because I had to be. She was the sheriff's neighbor, and she was white, but there had been many times when I had so wished that Miss Anjohn had taken her gossip and gone elsewhere. It was impossible to get any work done while entertaining the lonely, old lady.