Alongside the Road: A Novel

By Leon Taylor

Why was he sleeping on the floor, Jack asked himself when he woke up, and why did his head hurt so bad?  They were in jail again, Billy answered, and they were getting out of this town, whatever its name was, as soon as they got out of jail.  And that is what they did, but not before Kate caught a ride with them.  She'd seen the bar fight the night before that had gotten them thrown in jail and knew they could protect her from her biker boyfriend who was demanding she marry him so she couldn't testify against him and his many crimes. 

Heading south out of Montana in Billy's worn-out 1947 Ford pickup truck, it was in Wyoming where they came upon Indian.  He was standing alongside the road lost and in a daze.  Skinny from not eating, his clothes were matted with weeds from sleeping out on the open prairie.  He didn't know who he was, or where he was, but they gave him a ride, anyway.  They couldn't leave him, even though they thought he was crazy, he needed help, something to eat, a bath, and clean clothes.

 

The three men and their female companion were headed south.  They wanted to get someplace warm for the winter, but they decided instead to help Indian by finding his family and home.  They knew they could do nothing for him, not as lost in his mind as he was.  Indian looked Lakota to Jack, who was half Cherokee, half Apache, and half Irish, by his own reckoning.  Jack knew there were Sioux reservations in North and South Dakota, not far from where they were in Wyoming.  They could go through the Black Hills on their way there, he proposed, it was a special place he'd always wanted to visit.  If they couldn't find his family elsewhere, Jack considered, maybe Indian would reclaim his sanity there.

 

As it turned out, Indian wasn't crazy, and the Black Hills were the sacred land of his Lakota people, where he needed to be, along with these four who had found him.  It was there that Indian's rescuers would be rescued from themselves and the lost desperate lives they had been living when they found him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leon Taylor
• Release date: Apr 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223356196

Leon Taylor

Leon Taylor is a college graduate with a Bachelor of Arts degree in Social Science and Humanities and a veteran of military intelligence.  He has lived and worked in many different venues that have contributed to a vast array of experiences, all lending their credence to the stories he writes.

Book preview

Part One

Chapter One

Jack struggled to open his eyes.  His head was pounding.  He looked to see that he was laying on a cold concrete floor with a blanket underneath him.  Across the room, he could see Billy slumped against a wall in the corner.  Shit, he cursed when he saw it was bars that formed one of the walls to the corner Billy was leaning against.  They were in jail, again.  Damn, he cursed.  He looked around the jail cell to see who else was there with them. 

Carrot Stick was sprawled out on a make shift cot of sorts.  Two other drunks lay on the cots next to his.  Carrot Stick’s curly red hair was long from months of neglect, making his skinny freckled face look even smaller.  At six feet eleven inches, he embodied what most people called a freak of nature.  To him, however, they were the freaks of nature, being so much shorter than him.

Billy, Jack called across the room in a hushed whisper.  He propped himself up on his elbows, his stomach was feeling queasy.  Damn, hangover, he cursed to himself.  Billy, he called again, a little louder this time.  There was no answer.  Damn Irishman, Jack mumbled to himself as he sat up against the wall he had been sleeping beside.  He was half Irish himself, but wouldn’t admit it.  His Cherokee blood made him all Indian, as far as he was concerned.

Carrot Stick stirred when he heard Jack calling Billy’s name.  What the hell! he exclaimed when he looked around.  They were in jail, again?  What the hell? he questioned Jack, who was looking at him with a grimace on his face that said, ya, we’re in jail, again.

Ya, Jack replied, shrugging his shoulders.  Bar fight.  He was looking for a cigarette but didn’t have one.

What town’re we in? Carrot Stick questioned.  He sat up on his fragile cot and looked around the jail cell to see if anything was familiar.  His long gangly frame overhung the cot he sat on.  One-Eye dead? he questioned as he looked towards Billy in the corner.

Looks like it, Jack answered as he fell back on the floor with a moan.  He felt terrible.  In the corner was another drunk sleeping it off.  He’s dead, too, he said to Carrot Stick, motioning towards the man in the corner.

Hey...Billy, Carrot Stick called.  Git up, we gotta go.

Billy stirred.  He’d been the drunkest of the three the night before.  His ruddy complexion was even redder with all the alcohol he’d drunk.  He managed to force his one good eye open, and then vomited on the floor beside himself.

Nice, One-Eye, Carrot Stick applauded.  That’s the way to start the day.

Jack chuckled.  You win.  No one’s gonna top that.  Not today, anyway.

Billy wiped his mouth with the cuff of his shirt while he scooted away from the vomit. His rich mother and father would love to see him now, he thought to himself.  He’d come a long way to get this far down.  Got something to drink? he questioned his two sidekicks.

Ya, right, Carrot Stick answered.  Look around.

Billy did.  His one good eye surveyed his surroundings.  Shit, he cursed.  Not again.

Yep, Carrot Stick and Jack echoed to one another.

Great, Billy stated.  We got enough money to get out? he questioned.  Looking between Jack and Carrot Stick.

Depends, Carrot Stick answered, on what they charge us with.

What’d we do? Billy asked while rubbing his good eye, wishing he still had his other one.

Bar fight, Jack answered.  He rubbed the knuckles on his right hand.  Two fingers were missing on his left hand.  Must’ve been a good one the way my knuckles hurt.

Figures, Billy offered.  He rubbed the knuckles on his hand, as well.  Who won?

We did, Jack confirmed.  There were only three of ‘em.

Oh, Billy acknowledged, implying it would take more than three to beat them in a fist fight.

Got a cigarette, Three-Fingers? Billy asked Jack.

We’re in the drunk tank, Jack answered.

Oh, ya.  When we gittin out?

Don’t know.

IT WAS LATER IN THE day when the three got out of jail.  It was a quick appearance before the judge, a promise to leave town, fines paid, and they were on their way.  There was only one problem, they didn’t know where they had left Billy’s old Ford pickup truck.

Got to be behind that bar we got thrown out of, Jack reasoned.

Where’d the cops pick us up?  Billy wanted to know.

Outside the bar, Jack answered.  Carrot Stick didn’t know.

Was the fight inside the bar or outside? Billy wanted to know.

Both.

Oh ya, I remember, Billy said.  He didn’t remember a thing about the fight.

Who was the fight with? Carrot Stick questioned.  He remembered very little about the night.

I have no idea, Jack answered.

None of them got hauled off?

Guess not, Jack answered, or they’d been in the drunk tank with us.

Must’ve been locals, then, Billy determined, adjusting the patch over his missing eye.  The son of a doctor mother and lawyer father, Billy didn’t look the part.  He was now in his middle thirties, rough from the wear, a good distance from their care. 

Trucks gotta be at that bar, Carrot Stick decided.  Wonder where the hell that is?

What was the name of it?  Billy questioned.

Who knows, Jack answered, still rubbing his knuckles.

Well...this town ain’t that big, Carrot Stick said, can’t be that hard to find.

The bar was on the outskirts of town where they’d stopped when first arriving in Colton.  They’d have a quick beer and consider their possibilities for finding work in this town, they had said, but it didn’t turn out that way.

Gotta find the truck, Billy began to focus.  A nineteen forty-seven Ford with a flat head engine and rusted out bed, it wasn’t worth much.  The faded green paint and various dents attested to that, but Billy loved it anyway.  It was all he had.

Ya, all our stuff’s in it, Jack returned.  He rubbed the stubs of his two missing fingers on his left hand unconsciously.

Damn, Carrot Stick cursed, realizing for the first time their possessions could be missing.  If’n those guys we got in the fight with figured out that truck was ours, our stuff is gone.

Ya, bin sittin’ there all night, Billy added.  We’ll be lucky if it’s even still there.

It was, but all their possessions were gone.  And there were a few more dents in the fenders and hood.  The back window was shattered as well.  It was behind the bar where they’d gotten in the fight, and when the bar emptied at closing and no one drove the truck off, the men who they’d gotten in the fight with figured out it was theirs.

Damn it, Billy cursed upon first sighting of his truck and the damages that had been done.  Them sons-a-bitches, he cursed as if it would do any good.

Shit, Jack echoed Carrot Stick when they looked in the back.  Everything was gone, including the jack and spare tire.

Them sons-a-bitches gonna pay, Carrot Stick vowed.

Who were they? Billy questioned his overly tall friend who towered over him with his tall skinny frame and dangling carrot-colored hair.

Good question, Carrot Stick answered.  He wouldn’t recognize them if he saw them.  He vaguely remembered the fight.  You know who they were? he then turned to Jack in question.

Jack shook his head no.  Everything was a blur to him.  Nope, wouldn’t know them if I saw them. 

Billy opened the driver’s side door and looked inside the cab.  Son-of-a-bitch, he cursed.  The knob off of the gear shift was gone, a half-naked lady he’d won at a carnival.  They stole Matilda, he called to Jack and Carrot Stick plaintively.  Them bastards gonna pay now, he cried.  Whoever they are,  he stated in irony after thinking about it for a moment.  He had no idea who they’d gotten in the fight with.

With that, Billy turned to go inside the bar as if the thieves would be inside waiting for him.  Carrot Stick and Jack followed, looking for another fight.  Going in through the back door, they saw no one inside except an old drunk at the end of the bar, and the bartender standing behind the bar near him.  They had obviously been talking and stopped when the three came through the door.  Jack, Billy, and Carrot Stick squinted to look around the dark and dimly lit room as they walked toward the bar.  Nothing was going on, it was three in the afternoon.

Want a beer? Jack questioned after looking at the emptiness.  They were in a bar, after all.

Sure, Carrot Stick answered.  That was what bars were for.

Billy was still looking around for whoever it was that had stolen Matilda.  Ya, he conceded.  What he really wanted was retribution.  Guess a beer’ll work, he decided, as they strode up to the bar.  Cure the hangover.

Hey, the old man drunk at the end of the bar called to the three, pointing at them emphatically.  Ain’t you the fellas that tore this place up last night?

Jack, Billy, and Carrot Stick each stopped short of the bar stools they were about to straddle, looking at the old man.

Ya, them’s the ones, the old drunk yelled at the bartender while still pointing at the three.  Ya, he continued yelling but was now looking at the three.  I’s remembers the tall one.  He needs a haircut.

No I don’t, Carrot Stick countered.  This was the early sixties.  As far as he was concerned his hair was just fine.

Ya, you does, the drunk accused, still yelling.  His gray balding hair was cut to a stubble.

Ain’t none of yer business how I wear my hair, anyway,  Carrot Stick returned without malice.

’nd yer too tall, besides, old Dick Rebald informed Carrot Stick, who already knew he was too tall for comfort.  The knots on the top of his head from all the things he’d run into confirmed that fact.

Yer too short, Carrot Stick replied.  I ain’t too tall.  He’d already heard enough about his height in his young adult life.  He turned to Jack and Billy,  What’s with this guy? he questioned with a frown on his face.  He wasn’t as old as either Jack or Billy.  Is he just drunk, or is he gonna be a problem?

Too damn old to be a problem, Billy answered.

I don’t think he likes you, Jack answered with a smile.  He liked the change.  Normally it was him who was the lightning rod because of being part Cherokee with his long black hair braided Indian style.  Carrot Stick was usually exempt as his height normally commanded respect.  He thinks yer too tall,  Jack laughed.  Guess you better git a hair cut, not much you can do about being too tall.

I think yer right, Carrot Stick answered Jack, as he turned back towards his assailant.  I guess yer right, old man, I need a hair cut.  Maybe I’ll git one in a year or two.

Them’s the ones I’s been tellin’ you about, old Dick Rebald now yelled at the bartender.  Them’s the ones, he reiterated as he jabbed his pointed hand in the direction of the three.

That right? the bartender questioned menacingly as he now strode down the length of the bar towards the three.

What’s right? Jack questioned.  He was ready for a fight.  Being as the half of him that wasn’t Cherokee was Irish, he was always ready for a fight.

You three bust this joint up last night? the bartender questioned ominously as he approached.

Jack was watching his hands to make sure he didn’t reach under the bar for a weapon.  Don’t remember.

Don’t remember? the bartender questioned incredulously.  He looked the three over carefully now that he was closer.  The half-breed Indian was over six feet tall, lean, and muscular.  The carrot top was nearly seven feet tall, even though he was skinny as a stick.  The pudgy one looked like he could handle himself.  That made three, the bartender accessed.  He was only one.

Nope.  Don’t remember, Jack repeated.

You must be the diplomat of the three, the bartender stated.  He was considering the odds.

Nope.

Maybe you three otta go someplace else, the bartender suggested.  He was the diplomat, now.  Twenty-three years of tending bar, he was tough enough but knew he didn’t need more problems than he could handle.  There’s a good place just down the road from here, he said.  Nobody there’ll know ya.  Might work out better for everyone that way," he added in a more friendly tone.

That sounded good to Carrot Stick.  He took Jack by the arm and backed him up, telling Billy to come along.  We’ll take your advice, mister, he nodded to the bartender.  Didn’t come here for no trouble.  Just wanted to get a beer.

Carrot Stick moved his two companions towards the door they had just come in through, glancing back to make sure nothing was being hurled at them, or worse yet, the bartender was shooting at them.  It’d happened before.

They hadn’t yet noticed the young woman sitting at the corner table by the door.  They’d walked right past her coming into the bar without noticing, but did now.  Where you guys going? she questioned, as they neared the table where she sat.

Outta this place, Billy answered quickly.  They didn’t need any more problems than what they’d already encountered since arriving in town.  Why do you ask?  he questioned, as Carrot Stick continued to usher him and Jack to the door.

I’m going with you, Kate said matter-of-factually.  She stood, downed the last of the beer in her glass, gathered her purse and belongings, and walked out the door with the three.

Billy looked at Kate as they exited into the daylight, and then at his two companions in question.  Carrot Stick returned his look with a shrug of his shoulder.  Jack just looked at her puzzled as to why an attractive woman like her would want to join with the three of them.  

Is that alright? Kate questioned once they were out of the bar.

Ya, I guess, Billy answered with a shrug.  He certainly wasn’t going to turn her away.  Not many women were attracted to him, despite his proper upbringing, which, apparently to all who observed, was wasted on him.

The look on Carrot Stick and Jack’s faces said it was his truck, and up to him if she came along, but they wouldn’t say no if it was their truck. 

Where ya going? Billy finally gathered himself together enough to ask, unable to ply anything else from his mind.  He was struck by how nice she looked.  Why would she even ask the likes of them for a ride?  Was she wanted by the law, he questioned himself.

Away from this town, Kate answered straightforwardly.  She tossed her long dark hair back over her shoulder with a flip of her head.  She was much the same age as them.  Been here long enough.

Our sentiments exactly, Billy responded, even though they’d just arrived the day before.

Where we at? Jack questioned as he looked around, not recognizing anything.  How had they ended up in this town, he was wondering?  Oh ya, he answered his question to himself, they were looking for work.

Colton, Kate answered with a look of question.  He didn’t know where they were.  You plan on sticking around?

The three looked at each other in question.  They’d already told the judge they would leave, part of their agreement with him to get out of jail. 

Ugh...ya, don’t know, Jack drawled.  Hadn’t thought too much about it, yet, he hedged his answer.  If she wanted to leave, they were leaving, as far as he was concerned. 

Just got here last night, Carrot Stick interjected.  He was still thinking about making some money, despite what they’d promised the judge.

Kate surveyed Carrot Stick’s height.  He’s a tall one, she thought to herself.  Where’d you come from?  She asked as she looked him over.  She had a good feeling about him.  Tall and confident, he had few conflicts within himself, she felt.  Nothing to prove, or hide.  He’d be a good friend.

There, Carrot Stick answered with a sly smile, pointing to the east.  There wasn’t a place, in particular, they had come from, they’d been on the move for so long.

Going any place in particular? she questioned.  They were walking through the parking lot toward Billy’s old truck.  Or is this where you want to stay?  She knew better.  Colton was a dead-end mining town that she had ended up in by mistake.  No one came here by design except mine workers.

Carrot Stick looked to Billy and Jack for an answer.  Jack just scratched his head and looked at the ground.  How ‘bout a beer? he invited with a question.

Good plan, Billy affirmed.

Beer? Carrot Stick questioned Kate.

Kate’s my name, Kate answered self-assuredly, as she reached out to shake his hand.  Sure, I’d drink a beer.

Jim Rawlins, Carrot Stick returned, shaking Kate’s hand.  They call me Carrot Stick, he said, pointing to his red curly hair.  Billy and Jack, he then said, motioning first to Billy, and then to Jack.  They nodded to her in the introduction.  She responded in like form.

Beer it is then, Carrot Stick announced with enthusiasm.

I know a good place, Kate offered.  A place where Bullets wouldn’t think to look for her, she was thinking.  Your rig? she questioned, nodding to Billy’s old Ford.  They were by now standing next to it, Billy had his hand on the front fender.  Kate had already figured this truck must belong to these three.  It had been in the parking lot