Alvin on Waterloo Road

By Hecktor Franck

Alvin on Waterloo Road is a riveting fictional story set amidst The Great Depression. Alvins father was shot and it was ruled a suicide. Alvin loses his job for fighting with a co-worker, who suggested his father might have been caught stealing. Alvin and his mother struggled to make ends meet. Soon, Alvin gets involved with a married woman who may hold the answer to most of their problems.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477224083

Hecktor Franck

Mr. Franck is a retired sign painter and commercial artist. When he turned seventeen he dropped out of school and joined the Navy. He was assigned to an LST and sent overseas to the far East. In Korea his ship was involved in three major battles. When he returned home he took a job painting and studying commercial art with the Famous Artist Schools. In 1958 he married Helen Nunley and they raised three children. He retired in 1999 and is living a quiet life now, trying his hand at writing. He loves spending time with his four grandchildren. His home page is at ? http://home.comcast.net/~hafway/

Book preview

One

Alvin Hanback paused at the edge of Waterloo Road and watched a possum scurry down the side of a cotton field. It was late September 1935 and the cotton bolls were starting to open. With the Depression still ongoing, picking cotton would be one of the few jobs available in the next few weeks. Soon the fields would be covered with pickers, gleaning that precious commodity that’s kept the South alive through the years.

The scrubby little animal held Alvin’s attention until it crossed the road, making its way toward a nearby persimmon tree. Alvin was jarred awake from his reverie by a crow squawking overhead, allowing him to recall why he had stopped. A few feet from where he stood was the spot his father’s body had been discovered, two years earlier. It had become a ritual for him to stop and say a prayer, and reflect on the days he and his father, Louis, spent together.

The coroner’s ruling that, Louis Hanback, took his own life was too much for Alvin to bear. The Sheriff’s Deputy agreed with the coroner, so the incident was ruled a suicide. Alvin refused to believe his father would take his own life. Yet, when they found him there was a gun in his hand and a bullet hole in his right temple. As hard as Alvin tried, he couldn’t think of anyone who would want to harm his father. Louis never mistreated anyone and never made any enemies.

It was six years into the Depression, and the Hanbacks had lost the pillar of their existence. Alvin lived with his mother, Hazel, in a modest home built by her father, Buford Stephens. The house sat on a twenty-acre strip of land bordering Waterloo Road, a short distance from where Louis had been killed. The year Hazel was born her father bought the land, forty acres, six miles west of Florence, Alabama, and willed twenty acres to Hazel and twenty to her sister, Elizabeth. Hazel and Louis were married in 1906. Elizabeth never married but had a live-in friend called Benjamin.

The Waterloo Road is a twenty-two mile stretch of county highway between Florence and Waterloo, Alabama. It’s a peaceful stretch of highway, but has seen a few troubling occurrences. The most noteworthy was the transfer of Indian nations out of East Tennessee and the Carolinas, out to Oklahoma, by way of Waterloo. While on route to their destination many suffered from exposure, disease, and starvation. A few families managed to abandon the march and blend in with established settlers. Some settled in Northwest Alabama before reaching Waterloo.

The Route the Indians took, would become known as, The Trail of Tears.

*     *     *

In May, of that year (1935), the Works Progress Administration (WPA) was formed as part of President Roosevelt’s New Deal. The goal was to create jobs and help stabilize the economy. By September the nation had achieved some measure of recovery, and Alvin was working on a WPA job near Florence. He was assigned to a crew building stone retainer walls, mixing mortar and unloading rocks from overburdened wagons. It was hard work, but Alvin was a strong 27-year-old just happy to have a job. He watched the men working on the walls and after a few weeks he was given a chance to try his hand at laying the stones. Things were starting to look up and he was beginning to feel better about his future.

Since Louis’s death, Alvin’s paycheck had been Hazel’s only source of income. Still she carried her own weight, working hard to make ends meet. Her chickens laid more eggs than they could use, giving her a few extras to sell. Her cow supplied them with milk, butter and cheese and the garden produced enough extra vegetables for her to can, so they could make it through the winter. Alvin put meat on the table by hunting, trapping, and fishing. Food was never a problem for the Hanbacks, but money was another thing. They just never seemed to have enough to meet their needs.

Alvin talked to everyone that would listen, in hopes that someone would know the truth about his father’s death. Most accepted the coroner’s decision that it had been a suicide, but Alvin refused to believe it. His co-workers grew tired of hearing him talk about it and started giving their opinion about what really happened. One man suggested that Louis might’ve been caught with another man’s wife. Alvin ignored the remark, knowing the man was just trying to be funny. But when another man suggest his father could have been shot for stealing, that was the breaking point. Alvin flew into the man and they swapped blows until the other workers separated them. Both men were fired that day and told they would never work on a WPA job again.

It was a long walk home for Alvin. It started raining and the five-mile trip was beginning to seem more like ten. Alvin saw a house up ahead and planned to ask for shelter, but when he saw two dogs on the porch eyeing him curiously, he changed his mind. He continued walking and when he reached Cypress Creek he was soaked to the skin. The steel framed bridge crossing the creek offered little to no protection from the rain, so he stopped halfway across and leaned over the rail. The water was flowing fast beneath the bridge and Alvin cursed himself for starting the fight. He thought, If I had the nerve I would jump and end it all right here.

Fall was in full swing with a light breeze coming out of the North. Alvin stood shivering in the afternoon air, craving a cigarette but knew his tobacco and papers must already be wet. He pushed his hair back and looked up, letting the rain bathe his swollen knuckles and bruised face. He opened his mouth and took rainwater in, then rinsed. When he spit he noticed traces of blood in the spittle.

It was time to get moving. When Alvin stepped off the bridge, he could feel the gravel through the soles of his brogans. He would have to get a new pair soon, but didn’t know how he was going to afford them. It was still over three miles to his house, so all he could do was ignore the pain and keep walking.

He was starting to dread facing his mother. There would be a lot of explaining to do when he got home. He knew it would upset her when she heard that he’d been fighting. Then he would have to tell her that he lost his job. The Depression left the country in such a mess that he felt the WPA was his last hope.

It was dark by the time he reached the place where his father’s body had been discovered, and like always he stopped to say a prayer. He was thinking how fragile life had become and wondered why his father would come out on the road to kill himself. If that’s what he did. What reason did he have? The Depression had caused many problems but Louis didn’t have money invested or riches to lose. He was like everyone else, just struggling to survive.

From where Alvin stood he could see lights in the distance, giving him an eerie feeling. The lights were coming from Jesse Martin’s house, the owner of the cotton fields that lined Waterloo Road. The Martin’s home stood about two hundred feet off the road, not far from where Hazel lived.

Alvin was in the middle of a prayer when a distant rumble of thunder stopped him, and sent him on his way. The closer he got to home the more he dreaded facing his mother. He had to find another job and soon, but didn’t know where to start looking. He thought, Maybe I can pick cotton, until something better comes along. He was almost home and the rain was starting to let up.

Hazel heard Alvin stomping across the porch and met him at the door with a towel.

Two

Sleep came and went that night. His mother didn’t have much to say about him losing his job, and that troubled him even more. When he finally drifted off to sleep he would have weird dreams. The day’s events kept racing through his head.

Why did he let his co-workers get to him? Why did he start the fight?

There were just so many unanswered questions, about how his father died. He tried to convince everyone that his father was a strong man and would never do that to his family, but no one was buying it. Alvin knew the gun they found in his father’s hand had been planted there. Louis was left-handed, and the gun was found in his right hand, giving Alvin reason to question the coroner’s ruling.

Morning was finally breaking and Hazel’s rooster could be heard crowing in the distance. Alvin sat on the edge of his bed and listened to the morning sounds. The cuckoo clock that his grandfather brought over from Germany was striking five. Hazel was in the kitchen shaking ashes down in her cook stove. Alvin knew that it wouldn’t be long and the smell of coffee would fill the air. He didn’t have to get up but forced himself out of bed anyway. He didn’t want to break the habit of rising early.

After washing up, he looked through his discarded brogans and found a fairly decent pair. He took the wet ones to the kitchen and placed them behind the stove. Hazel was busy getting breakfast ready and not saying much and Alvin wondered what she was thinking. She didn’t chastise him for losing his job, so he decided to leave well enough alone. He spoke and got his morning cup of coffee.

While sitting at the table, sipping the hot brew, the desire for a cigarette returned. The walk to the store would be too long just to get tobacco, so he tried thinking of something his mother might need. Hazel came over and poured him another cup of coffee and placed a knife and fork on the table.

Alvin said, I guess it’s about time to plant winter greens. I’ll clear a spot in the garden as soon as it gets light enough.

There’s plenty of time for that. Hazel reminded him, It’s probably too wet anyway. Just rest for now.

When Alvin finished eating, Hazel took his plate and utensils and placed them in the sink. She finished straightening her kitchen, then got the milk pail and egg basket and headed out to milk and gather eggs. It bothered Alvin seeing her on the go all the time and tried to think of something he could do to help. He noticed her woodpile getting low and decided to cut more, so she wouldn’t have to do it.

On his way out to get his ax, he stopped and fed his rabbits and checked the rat-traps. Rats had always been a problem, but lately they had been getting into Hazel’s chicken feed and the rabbit food.

Inside the shed, Alvin stood looking over his favorite place to hang out. He and his father spent many hours here, mending furniture for their neighbors, and building rabbit traps. Louis kept his tools in good working condition and neatly stored away. The walls were lined with shelves, garden tools, and steel traps. The way Louis left them.

Alvin’s craving for a cigarette returned and it was starting to annoy him. He knew he had to get busy and forget that he ever smoked, or it would be a long walk to the store. He took his ax and a file out to the woodpile and sat gazing at the blocks of wood. He couldn’t stop worrying about loosing his job. He regretted starting the fight, and wished he hadn’t let his co-workers get to him. He wasn’t a belligerent man and usually didn’t let things get under his skin. It’s just that the joking went too far.

Alvin slammed his ax through the first piece of wood so hard, it buried up in the chopping block. Hazel was on her way back to the house and could see that he was upset, but didn’t say anything.

At the house Hazel’s nearest neighbor, Ruby Martin, had just pulled up and was waiting for her. Hazel was always glad to see Ruby because it usually meant that she wanted to buy something. The Martins seemed to always have plenty of money, and they didn’t mind spending it. Jesse’s cotton and wildcat whiskey had made them wealthy, so the Depression didn’t seem to impact them the way it did others.

Ruby asked Hazel if she had a frying-size chicken.

Sure, Hazel told her. I’ll get Alvin to catch one for you. Hazel told Ruby to go out to the pen and pick the one she wanted. She said, I’ll come out, as soon as I put these eggs and the milk away and get Alvin to catch it.

Alvin saw Ruby heading his way, and decided to let the wood go until later. He thought she might be coming to hire him to do some work for her. When she got near enough he spoke and asked if he could do something for her. Ruby smiled and went straight to the chicken pen. He joined her and leaned on a corner fence post, and spoke again.

Ruby smiled and walked around him, flaunting her shapely figure. Alvin’s presence was making her nervous, but she still enjoyed the attention he was paying her.

Are you going to catch one of these birds for me? Ruby asked, giving him a seductive glance.

I guess, if that’s what you’re here for.

There was something about her that set Alvin’s heart racing. She stood looking the chickens over while Alvin looked her over. Ruby was wearing a cotton print dress that enhanced her shapely figure. Her beautiful red hair was cut short,