Chapter 2. DOG CABIN
Nobody cooks better than my mom.
She can cook fancy or she can cook plain, but what she’s proudest of is cooking cheap. I can’t tell you how many times there’d be nothing much at all in the refrigerator and in the cupboards, but she always managed to come up with a meal that was filling and tasty and good for you, too. I don’t know how she does it. Like magic. She’d use a recipe, but substitute whatever was on hand.
“Don’t ask,” she’d tell me when I’d question her about the ingredients. “Just something I threw together.”
Rhino never asked. “Don’t want to know,” he’d say. Then he’d ask for seconds.
Mom had cooked my favorite dish that night, spicy chicken. With green beans, savory rice and spinach salad. And her special homemade dinner rolls. Washed down by mint tea. With any luck, there’d be rocky road ice milk for dessert.
Delicious as everything was, I was too busy watching the stranger to give my food much thought. He didn’t seem to have the same problem. He ate and ate and he ate some more, stopping only to smile and compliment my mother on her “culinary skills” before heaping another serving onto his plate. He seemed to have excellent table manners, too, although I was not much of an expert on such things.
Usually there was a big pile of leftovers, but not tonight. One breast left was all.
“That was, I sincerely mean this, ma’am, that was some of the best home cooking I have ever sat down to,” the stranger said, finally easing his chair away from the table. “Truly a feast.”
Mom brightened. “I hope you saved room for dessert.”
“I think I could find a vacancy,” he said, as he stood up and cleared his plate and his utensils.
“Oh, please, you don’t have to do that,” Mom said.
“It’s the least I can do.” He stopped alongside my chair.
“Are you finished with your supper, Zachariah? There’s another piece of chicken left.”
He looked at me patiently; his eyes always focused and steady when he talks to you. Like he really cares about what you have to say.
Before I could make up my mind, Rhino’s hand pulled the last piece of spicy chicken up to his bearded face.
My eyes met those of Barker Ajax and I could swear I saw a smile in them. I handed him my plate.
“Keep your fork, smells like pie to me,” he said in that gentle voice of his.
And it was pie, too. Raspberries I’d picked with Mom late last summer and apples we’d gleaned from an abandoned orchard in the next valley. Yes, with rocky road ice milk to boot.
After dinner, the grownups sat around the table and talked about the things grownups talk about, while I washed the dishes and set them out to drip dry. I could hear every word that was said. Mom seemed most interested in knowing where the stranger was headed next, while Rhino appeared anxious to learn where he’d come from most recently. Practically giving this fellow the third degree they were, without being too obvious about it, yet he didn’t seemed bothered by the interrogation at all.
Seemed to be enjoying himself, in fact.
Mom and Rhino wanted to know more about the man. He knew what they were up to, simply human nature to be curious. Most folks are. This Barker fellow answered all their questions readily, and as courteous as you please. Seems like he’d been everywhere. He talked pleasantly about many of the places he’d been, but not what he’d done there. Never volunteered anything personal about himself. To his credit, he didn’t try to pry into our private affairs either.
By the time the dishes were done, I knew Barker Ajax loved his dog, whose name was The Black Gang, and the two of them drifted around the country, with no particular place to go, enjoying the sights, taking each day one at a time. As simple as that.
Finally, sensing they weren’t going to get the information they were seeking, Rhino changed the conversation.
“So, you’re looking for a job?”
“This is unspoiled country,” Barker explained by way of an answer. “The air is clean and the scenery’s pleasant. Couldn’t get any deeper into the woods and continue to call yourself civilized. A man might stay a spell if he could find himself a place to hang his hat. Like I said, I heard you were looking for some help.”
“Yeah? Where’d you say you heard that?”
“Stopped into The Feed & Weed in Carlaton to pick up a bag of dog food for The Gang. Fellow there said you might be hiring.”
“Ever done any farming?”
“Enough to know it’s hard work.”
“You a good worker?”
“I have always managed to pull my weight,” the stranger said, “and I’m heavier than I look.”
Rhino just stared at him, as if he didn’t know what to ask next. “You got a record?”
“You talking Top 40 or prison?” Barker Ajax answered with a easy grin. Then he turned serious. “I did two hours in a drunk tank once when I was old enough to know better. That’s all, and it was more than enough.”
“You got a drinking problem?”
“No,” he said simply. You could tell he meant it.
“Good,” Mom said. “We surely do need some help around here. There’s always so much to do, even on a little spread like ours. Zac’s a big help, of course….”
Darn. Rhino interrupted her just when she was starting to build me up.
“I’ll show you where you can bunk for the night. We can take a tour of the farm in the morning. See what you think of the place. Maybe we can come to an understanding. ”
“Sounds like a plan.”
I got to the front door first and stopped in my tracks as soon as I opened it. The Black Gang was sitting on the porch, looking straight into my eyes. He was even more impressive close up. As big as I was. Oh, much bigger, for sure. Different than your normal yard pouch, with his abnormally large head, he reminded me of the wolf in the fairy tale Little Red Riding Hood. Only this was real life. Fully loaded muzzle, teeth fit for a cannibal’s necklace. The dog yawned and it looked like the movie poster from “Jaws.”
“Ah, Mr. Ajax….”
“Gang, truck.” The dog disappeared. “Zachariah, I want you to know this right up front. No reason to be afraid. That animal is your friend. He told me already he likes you.”
“He told you?” I didn’t see how that was possible.
“Yes, sir. The Black Gang is an impeccable judge of character. He can see you have the makings of a fine man.”
Well, now… “the makings of a fine man.” That sounded good to me. Even coming from a dog.
So, I walked right up to the truck where The Black Gang was patiently resting and I patted him on his huge head and he started to wag his long tail and then he rolled over on his back and I scratched him on his fuzzy belly and I was convinced right then and there the two of us would become great friends.
He didn’t speak a word to me, however. He didn’t have to; his message was clear.
Barker Ajax opened up the back of his truck. He reached in with one long arm and pulled out a weathered duffel bag, while I, just trying to be helpful, grabbed for a grey carrying case the length of a baseball bat. It was surprisingly heavy. In the same instant, without so much as a word, Barker took the heavy grey case from me and handed me his sleeping bag instead. I started to object, but thought the better of it when I saw those soft lavender eyes harden, just the littlest bit.
“This’ll be your place,” Rhino said as our little convoy reached the spare trailer nestled in a dense stand of trees behind the pole barn. “If you decide to stay on.
“If we agree on things,” he added.
“Looks cozy enough,” Barker offered, as Rhino opened the trailer door. “What do you think, Gang?”
“Ruff,” the dog answered.
‘Rough,’ is what I heard, imagining for just the slightest instant maybe he could talk.
The green and white single-wide trailer, maybe thirty-five-feet long, did indeed look rough on the outside, rust-streaked and caked with mud. Inside, it was dry and basically clean.
Sure, the brown shag carpeting smelled slightly of mildew and a thin layer of dust covered every flat surface. The corners of the kitchen linoleum floor were cruddy, the windows so coated with pollen, sunlight could barely break through. Spider traps full of dead flies occupied most corners of the ceiling. The curtains could certainly use a wash. Dirty dishes filled the sink. Nothing serious.
Wood-paneled cabinets lined a surprisingly generous living room which was open to the kitchen and dining area. A compact bathroom separated a smaller bedroom from the master “suite” which was mostly filled by a queen-sized bed. There was a storage closet partly occupied by the water heater. More wooden cabinets and built-in book shelves filled every available nook and cranny. The place had the feel of a snug cabin deep in the forest.
I had asked Mom if Mongo and I could move in here, but she said she wasn’t ready yet for me to be on my own. Besides, Mongo was only a pup.
“I’m bushed,” Barker Ajax said suddenly, as the summer sun started to set. “Think I’ll hit the sack.” Looking at Rhino. “I appreciate your kindness.”
“Weren’t nuthin,” Rhino muttered.
“Goodnight, Mr. Ajax,” I said. “Goodnight, Gang.”