The Escape of Bobby Ray Hammer, A Novel of a '50s Family by David Sheppard
"Dogs, Bobby. Knock me down. Mean dogs. Don't like dogs. Do you like dogs?"
"She has a puppy," says Gretta. "Our neighbor's old bitch had a litter of mongrels, and Sammy just had to have one."
I pick her up when we walk under the big wheel, set her beside me in the wide seat. The wheel starts to turn, we rise above the single story buildings here at the fairgrounds and the entire countryside is spread out before us. I look back toward town, see the 99, even a train on the track that parallels it.
"I'm not afraid. Are you afraid, Bobby?"
"No. Not if you'll be still and quit flopping around."
When we finally get off, Samantha starts in again.
"Fish! Bobby. Fish!"
So now we're standing before this booth and out in the middle is a square table with sides like a big box and with a big white cloth over it. On top of the box are all these round bowls with colored water inside, a goldfish in each one. Some are blue, some red, yellow, green.
"I want a red one, Uncle Bobby," says Samantha. "Get me a red one."
I think even I can do this one.
"Can you throw too?" Samantha asks.
I give the girl in the apron a dollar and she gives me four Ping-Pong balls then I pick up Samantha and give one of them to her.
"Throw it," I say
"How?" she asks. "You do it."
"Watch that kid over there," I tell her, pointing at Grant Pierson's ten year old that has already thrown away two dollars in balls. Grant's another of the barbers here in town.
She throws one but it doesn't even make the box. She tries again
"You do it, Uncle Bobby. You do it."
I set her down and lean into the box a little.
"Throw it, Uncle Bobby. Throw it hard."
I get the last two to bounce off the rims. So I pull out another dollar.
"Sammy, are you sure you want a fish?" asks Gretta. "They're a lot of trouble. You have to feed it and change the water all the time."
I have four more white balls, and I get a splash on the first one. But it's a blue one and when the girl tries to hand it to Samantha, she won't take it. Starts screaming.
"No! No! No! A red one. A red one."
The girl takes it back, gives me one with red water. I give it to Samantha.
"Eeeeeek! A fish! It's a fish, Uncle Bobby. Gi'me it. Gi'me it. Get your hands off. Get 'em off." She can't get a hold on the bowl because her hands are trembling so much. First she shakes both her hands like the bowl's hot, then she grabs it, holds it against her chest with both arms wrapped all the way around it. Then she is quiet. Real quiet. "I love him, Mommy. Do you love him? He's just the best fish in the whole world. He won't cause any trouble. And we won't eat him either."
"Hey Richard," I say, that's Grant's boy. "Catch." I throw the rest of the balls to him one at a time.
"At least uncles are good for something," says Samantha.
"When we were on the Ferris Wheel, I told her that I'm her uncle. Is that okay?"
"Sure Bobby. You are her uncle."
Trish and Curt have come up from behind me. Trish has overheard me and looks as if her brain is calculating by some long algebra equation. "On which side of the family, Bobby? Jess Korenski's or Aunt Loretta's?"
"The Hammer's."
"How come that don't make her my niece too," asks Curt.
"It does," I say but I'm looking at Trish.
"She's your niece?" Trish says. Trish's eyes look big enough to pop out of her head. "And she's not my baby and she's not Curt's. Is she Curt?"
"Shut up, Trish," he says.
"She belongs to me," says Gretta.
"Bobby," says Trish. "Who is this little girl? You better tell me what this means." And I think she is going to cry. Because she knows what it means. She turns her back, walks off a ways.
I walk after Trish, put my hand on her shoulder. "I don't know how to tell you this without it being a shock. Remember? In his journal Lenny said Gretta was pregnant. She's Lenny's daughter," I say her to her back.
She shakes her head, yes. She sniffs her nose a little and turns to face Gretta. Then she looks down at Samantha and back up at Gretta. "His journal seemed like a dream. I can't make the things that happened then connect with today." She looks at Gretta. "She's Lenny's daughter?"
Gretta nods and smiles.
"What's her name?"
"Samantha," says Gretta.
"She's so pretty," says Trish and she covers her face because she is crying again. Shoulders just shaking.
Then she looks up at Gretta. "You're Charles' sister, Gretta," she says.
"Mama and Papa already know about Samantha," I tell her. "They won't talk about her and if you mention her to them, they'll be mad. They don't believe Samantha is Lenny's daughter."
"Mommy, who are these people?" asks Samantha.
"Well Sammy, that's your Aunt Patricia and this is your Uncle Curt."
Curt looks at me like somebody just called him a bad name. "I'm not old enough to be an uncle," he says.
"She's just gorgeous," says Trish.
"What can you do with her," asks Curt like she's a new toy somebody bought that he hasn't figured out yet.
"Well," says Gretta, "she's versatile. Likes to play a lot."
"I like to ride rides a lot too, Uncle Curt," says Samantha with her head down like she's real mad about it. She's catching on to this uncle business.
So while the three of them are on the tilt-a-whirl, Gretta and I stand in front of the Hammer and talk.
"Charles says Mama had something to do with your mother's death."
"Charles never recovered from it."
"How did she die?"
"Automobile accident on Highway 152. A very foggy night. She hit a tractor trailer."
"So why does Charles blame Mama?"
"He knows something but Daddy won't let him talk, says that she's dead. No use resurrecting her."
"Does Sammy know what Lenny looked like?" I ask.
"Has his senior picture on her wall and says a prayer for him every night before she goes to sleep. I got his picture directly from the photographer. You're mother wouldn't give me one."
"Mama can be hard. I know that."
"She makes the world to suit herself."
"She wouldn't tell me about my past until she had to."
"Family secrets?"
"Yes. Things like my Aunt Loretta being my real mother."
"Oh, god, Bobby."
"I keep opening the door wider and Mama keeps slamming it shut."
"You know more than the rest of us. Charles tells me you have Lenny's journal."
"Word gets around. I suppose you've heard by now, but if you haven't, it's time you were told. Helen and Lenny were married."
"Charles told me last night. Helen wouldn't tell it because they didn't get married in the church, and her parents don't recognize the marriage. My mother's death is another mystery."
"Wasn't it an accident?"
"Yes, but my mother and father had problems then."
"Charles told me something about my papa and your mother. Any truth to it?"
Gretta flinched a little when I said that. "I hope you're not repeating this gossip around town," she says. "I'm surprised Charles would talk to you about Mother. He must like you a lot."
I don't say anything for a minute. "He accused Mama of killing your mother. Charles was mad. It wasn't as if he confided in me. Charles is crazy. He's done some things to me that I can't even talk about."
"He's eccentric."
"He's a pervert."
She won't look at me now. "Can you tell me why Lenny acted so strange toward me the day before he died?"
Can't say anything about the abomination, so I don't say anything for a while. "No, I don't." And no way am I telling her was thinking of killing her. "Lenny still has some secrets he's keeping."
Trish and Curt are back with Samantha. She sti
We're still standing by the ride I don't like too much, the Hammer.
"Hey, Bobby." It's Thomas and Melvin. "Ride the Hammer with us. Room for three."
"Not today. I've had enough ups and downs."
"A Hammer should be able to ride the Hammer."
"By the way, Thomas, Papa's bringing in that harrow you sold us last year. The teeth are falling out."
"You guys been running it thirty miles an hour on blacktop again?"
"It's just falling apart with the air sitting on it. Can't take much of a load."
"We're busy. He better not expect it soon. Who's that little girl?"
"My niece."
"She's a cute little squirt."
As they get on, I watch this young guy who runs the Hammer, letting the kids on and off, engaging the motor. But the old man who owns the Hammer is standing back out of sight. I remember seeing him here last year, the year before. He has a different kid working for him, but he comes back every year. And the reason I remember him is that he looks so bad, as if his body's rotting. Some people who don't take regular baths look dirty, like maybe their skin is made out of grease, but he doesn't look like that. He looks like he's died and his body is rotting. Like the blood that runs in his veins is seeping out in places. I get the shivers just looking at him.
I turn back to Gretta. "Charles has been really upset about not being able to find a ring he gave Helen a few years ago. But Helen says it belonged to her grandmother. Brenda tells me that's just not true."
"Oh, no it wasn't hers." And Gretta seems really primed on this one. "The ring Charles gave Helen was an engagement ring we found hidden in my mother's personal things two years after she died. An engagement ring, not a wedding ring that our father gave her. We don't know where she got it. Mother was buried in her wedding ring. Charles wanted the engagement ring, but my older sister and me wouldn't let him have it. So he stole it from us and gave it to Helen when they were planning to get married. We've been mad at him for five years about that ring. We won't let him rest until he finds it. It represents another mystery, probably something about her life before she married Daddy."
I have an inspiration, just figured out something Charles has known all along. I know who has the ring. But I know something Charles doesn't: who can tell me why he took it off Lenny.
I take one more look at that sucker who owns the Hammer. Has his head down but he's looking out through the tops of his eyes. Looking at me. It's as if he knows I'm afraid of the Hammer. As if he's been coming to Chowchilla every year, just for me.
I walk away from Gretta, but Wayne steps in front of me, blocking my way. Stands there with his legs spread and his hands on his hips.
"Showdown, Hammer," he says. I see Eugene and Curt standing off to the right.
Showboat Wayne. I've had it with him. If he wants it that bad, I'll just have to give it to him. It'll be his problem after that. "Okay, Hopalong Cassidy. Let's go do it. Or is it Lash Larue? If it is, I don't see your whip."
*
Wayne and Eugene are walking twenty feet in front and I'm just following along behind. We pass the stockyards and first I hear the hogs squeal, then the sheep bleat, then the calves bawl.
Curt has followed me. "Think you can take him?" he asks as we pass through the South Gate. Lots of people coming in.
"You tell me. What do you think?"
"I don't know. I've always wanted to see you fight though." His voice is really shaking.
"You want to see me hurt him? Break his nose. How much blood do you want?"
"I just want to see you fight."
"Well, that's what I would like to do. I'd like to break his nose so that it peels back on both sides of his face, just squirting blood with a little raw flesh showing, and knock all his front teeth out, maybe even chip some back teeth. I'd like to see him standing with his head hung over, spitting blood and teeth and pieces of teeth out on the ground. Crying a little cause he knows his mouth and nose will never be the same. And then I'd go up and hit him in the side of the head with him all bent over and helpless. Knock him cold as a wagon tongue on a frosty winter morning."
We cross the road and start through the parked cars in the open field on the other side. This field's a pasture. I wonder where they put the cows? I wish it wasn't so dusty. A little too lumpy to walk easy on.
"Maybe you'd like to see him hurt me. Break my nose. Knock out a couple of teeth."
"Come on, Bobby Ray. Quit talking like this."
"All that could happen. Anything can happen, Curt. No matter what's been planned, nobody knows the future. Not even the next ten minutes. You don't even know yourself, how you feel about things. Watch how you feel about me during this fight. You might learn something about yourself."
Eugene looks like his best dog just died. He hasn't acted quite right toward me since Trish dumped him.
"You want to tell me what this is about first?" I ask Wayne.
"It's about Leroy. You were the cause of him dying. I'm going to make you pay for it."
"Well, there's no reason to fight then, cause what you're saying is a lie. He was my cousin. I didn't want to kill my own cousin."
"That's a lie, Hammer. You're not talking your way out of this one." He's pulling off his shirt and showing all that pale freckly skin, but he does look like he has muscled up a little lately. "Besides that, I just hate your guts," he says.
I think I will take him just like I am. This pulling shirts off and putting them back on is just a lot of trouble.
"I used to feel that way about you too, but since I found out your father saved my mother's life many years ago, I've changed my mind. Besides that, if my cousin Leroy liked you so much, you couldn't be all bad."
"It's no use, Hammer. Your ass is grass."
"Okay, Wayne. Have it your way. Come on. Let's see your stuff."
I walk over to him, shove him on both shoulders to get him going good. I'm afraid he may need a jump start at this point. He's looking kind of scared, like maybe he froze up on me now that the fight is about to start. I didn't realize that I'm so much bigger than him.
He takes a swing at me and hits me on the shoulder, so I back off.
"Come on, Bobby," somebody says, "break him open a little. Let's see what color he is on the inside."
He comes at me running this time and when he swings at my head I lower my shoulder, put it into his chest and hear the air go out of him just before his butt hits the ground.
"Goddamn it! Fight with your fists," he says after he gets his breath back.
"Okay," I say. "I'm real sorry, Wayne. Guess I forgot how to fight." I look over at Curt give him a wink. We're starting to draw a crowd.
Wayne comes at me again, takes a swing with his left. Then his right. I step back, let 'em go by. Now he's getting real red in the face. Freckles hardly even show.
"Damn you, Bobby. Come on. Fight." He doesn't seem nearly as mad as he was. But here he comes again. This time he gets down low and I think I can push him back with my hands, but I don't quite make it. He hits me in the mouth. Hurts real bad. So I step back. Check the corner of my mouth with my finger but don't have time to look at it because I have to run backward and circle a little to get away from him. I stick my finger in the corner of my mouth again and damn. There is a little blood.
"You're a coward, Hammer. You know that. Nothing but a goddamn coward. You going to fight or run?"
"You were the one that wanted to fight. Seemed real important to you. I hate to see you so disappointed." I hear a laugh from someone in the crowd. It's Tom Broden, that big colored guy who was at my fight with Chelsey.
"You're going to fight," says Wayne, "if I have to force you." And he makes another run at me. I don't have much room for maneuvering this time because he gets me up against a car. So I duck a blow and grab his arm. He throws the other one at me and I duck
"I'm whipped, Wayne." I tell him. "Can't take anymore." I hear another snicker from the crowd. "You're just one tough sonofabitch." He did manage to pull my grin off though. "I think you're ready to climb up a step, Tom Mix or maybe Gene Autry. Zorro may even have you on his list."
"What do you mean?" and he's screaming at me. "You can't quit now. We haven't even started. I've been waiting for this for two years. You can't be that big of a chickenshit."
"Some of us can take it and some can't. I guess I can't take it anymore." I look over at Curt. He's grinning and shaking his head. What a brother he has. It's going to be hard to live me down. "Look at how dirty you got my shirt," I say pulling it away from my chest. "And look at this." I stick my finger in my mouth again, hold it up to show him. "You done bloodied my mouth."
Wayne looks over at Eugene. "He's chickenshit," he says. "There's nothing I can do about it."
I start dusting myself off. Curt comes over to help me. As the crowd breaks up, this little kid walks by. "Gosh," he says. "I thought Bobby Hammer was suppose to be tough. I didn't know that he's such a wimp."
Now that hurts. That hurts a lot.
"I whipped your ass, Hammer," says Wayne. "You hear me? And that's what I'm going to be saying."
"I'll back it up," I tell him. "I'm just glad you let me off so easy." I can tell that some of my sassiness has gone out of my voice now.
"Good grief, Bobby," says Curt. "You look worse than Papa after a day on the tractor."
"What do you think? Isn't your big brother fighting a sight to see?"
Curt just keeps dusting on me. He is smiling a little, but I can tell it's not easy for him.
"Sometimes the toughest fights are not with your enemies," I tell him.
"Everybody in town will sure hear about this," he says.
"That's what I'm hoping," I say. "Come on, let's go get me cleaned up, if that's possible."
CHAPTER 48: Loretta and the History of the Ring
"Damn turkeys. Turkeys are a plague on the earth," is what Loretta has just said. She's on her knees crying and looking over four dead turkeys on the ground in front of her. "Turkeys are the dumbest creatures on the face of the earth," she says. "Just look how they turn on each other at the first sight of blood. They draw a little blood and then pick the bleeding turkey to death. Even clipping their beaks isn't enough to stop them."