Chapter 9. ASSIST THE VICTIMS
Breakfast was ready. A quiet meal, it was, too, with nobody talking much, hardly at all. Pass the juice, please, may I have the butter, thank you, was basically the extent of the conversation.
Barker Ajax was probably talked out from answering all my questions first thing so early in the day. But I had never seen his like before. Not in real life, I mean.
Tell you the truth, that hair, he looked the spitting image of Wild Bill Hickock, plain and simple. Wyatt Earp, the way he carried himself. He reminded me a lot of those old-time cowboy heroes, you know, like Gary Cooper used to play. Or Clint Eastwood when he was young. When I was young.
Which made sense given the way he was dressed. He was in this time, but not of this time. Didn’t say much, didn’t let anybody push him around, didn’t want any trouble, just drifting through. Yes, ma’am, no, ma’am, adios, ma’am.
“Are you going to stay?,” I couldn’t stand the silence any longer, about to bust a gut, maybe herniate myself. “Are you going to work for us?”
“Spare the baseball bat, spoil the child,” Rhino said, hopefully kidding. He was sore and stiff and achy, but in a pretty good mood. The best of times, he wasn’t what you’d call a morning person. I think Mom was happy somebody had finally broken the ice.
Barker took a big swallow of strong black coffee. Looked me straight in the eye. “You’d like me to stay, would you?”
“You bet,” I said, looking straight back at him.
“Why?,” he asked.
Hadn’t expected him to ask me that. Tough question. Tougher answer. Wasn’t something I’d thought about. I just knew I felt better having him around. I felt special. He was one of a kind and I wanted him to be mine. Sounds kinda mushy, doesn’t it?
“You could help me train the puppy,” was my reply. At my feet, Mongo rolled over and yawned, practically pointing at his belly to be scratched. He knew we were talking about him.
Barker took the hint and reached a long arm over and scratched that fuzzy tummy. “We’ve certainly got a big job ahead us.” Mongo stretched out, kicking his legs, one happy pup. Me, too.
Barker took another swallow. “Of course, first thing we should do is cut his balls off. He’s getting to be about the right age.”
Ouch. In dog years, Mongo and I weren’t all that far apart. Growing up is harder sometimes than you’d think it would be, even for puppies.
“I am intrigued by your work,” Barker addressed Mother and Rhino. “Seems to me what you’re doing is not unlike the old Underground Railroad. Instead of transporting slaves to freedom, you’re freeing people enslaved by pain and political demagoguery. I’m not happy about breaking the law, believe me. It’s worrisome, quite frankly; there’s no back door in prison.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Rhino said. “We don’t plan on getting caught.”
Barker looked at him with much the same look Rhino gave me when he couldn’t believe how foolish he thought I was. Disdain, it’s called.
“Nobody ever plans to get caught. That’s why there’s so much crime. I would have to worry. A federal penitentiary is no place for a dog.”
“It is a risk,” Mother conceded. “But, it’s for a very worthy cause.”
“Yes. I saw Rhino’s motorcycle collection in the barn. Quite impressive.”
“That’s not what I was talking about and you know it,” she said a tad heatedly.
“My apologies, Ms. Moscowitz.”
“Apology accepted. And, please, for goodness sakes, call me Hiawatha.”
“Hiawatha, it is,” Barker replied. “I’m confident you believe in the rectitude of your work. However, if inclined to contribute my time and labors solely for charitable purposes, I’d be off somewhere training Golden Retrievers to guide the blind across busy streets, teaching poodles how to help the hearing-impaired. If I was feeling truly altruistic, maybe I’d deal meals on wheels to the housebound. Build housing for the homeless. Read aloud to the elderly. My point is this, there’s no end to the good deeds a person could do that aren’t against the law. No end.”
“Of course,” Rhino cynically offered, “those things aren’t getting done because there’s no money to be made doing ’em.”
“Why doesn’t the government have people on welfare do all that volunteer stuff?,” I wondered. “Seems logical.”
“Out of the mouths of babes,” grumped Rhino.
“Good idea,” Mom said. “Unfortunately, honey, logic and government mix like oil and water.”
“I’ve got as much problem with some of society’s restrictions as you folks do. Maybe more. Generally, I choose not to break the law, but to ignore it,” Barker continued. “I don’t live outside the law, but away from the law. I’ve got my own rules.”
I’ll just bet he does, I thought to myself.
Sudden silence, broken only by the sound of utensils grating against plates as Mom and Rhino busied themselves finishing their meal.
“I’ll stay.”
“Oh, boy!”, I exclaimed.
“I’m pleased,” Mom said.
“Welcome aboard,” said Rhino, looking rather pleased himself.
“If I am going to do this, I might as well get paid. I’m not doing this for the money,” Barker explained. “Okay, maybe a little. But I am a professional. Otherwise, most work makes no sense.”
“What do you have in mind?, Rhino asked.
“Free room and board,” Barker replied, “and an equal one-third share of all profits.”
Funny. Suddenly, I began to feel very left out of the conversation.
“Now, hold on one damn minute,” Rhino grumbled.
“That’s my price for the paranoia.”
“Mighty hefty chunk for unskilled labor,” Rhino suggested.
Barker didn’t seem insulted. “I’ll toil side-by-side with you every day. I’ll be out there when you’re not. Learn the business from top to bottom, soil to smoke. I don’t want to know who your contacts are. There’s no need, that’s none of my business. Just as soon stay as far away from distribution as possible. But I’m willing to work the farm twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”
“Still, a third of the profits does sound awfully steep,” said Mother.
“The risk’s the same for all of us.”
I remember the moment clearly, as if it was only a couple of years ago. I remember thinking, ‘Except the boy. They’ll let me go. No share, no care.’
“If we get caught, we’ll lose our property.”
“You can always find a new farm. There’s no getting back twenty years of my life. The price of freedom here is eternal anxiety.”
I had asked Rhino once what he would do if I ever turned his big ass in. He said I’d have a terrible accident. We never talked much about the legal implications of our secret gardens. When Mom and I had talked about marijuana, I thought we were going to talk about sex. So we talked about both.
She had a lot to learn, I found out.
Meanwhile, there was a tug-of-war of words going on. Rhino and Mom offering up one argument after another, pulling in one direction, while Barker Ajax pulled in the other, with reasoned responses, tugging them back over to his side. After each exchange, they were closer to his take on things. Rhino reveled in being stubborn, it was in his nature, and Mother took pride in being a shrewd negotiator, but I could tell their hearts weren’t really invested in winning.
Besides, Barker wasn’t about to budge. He didn’t even know how much money was to be made, that was really not an issue. He understood his independence to be priceless and his worth considerable.
“Think of me as an insurance policy. Everybody has one, everybody hopes they never have to use it. But when something goes wrong, you’re covered. I’ll handle all your security problems. With The Black Gang’s assistance, of course.”
The tugging back and forth suddenly ceased. “You know, we haven’t had a vacation in years.”
“Could leave the place in his hands and not worry about it being here when we got back.”
“And the dog works for free,” Barker noted.
My mother and Rhino, well, they didn’t have an argument for that.
“We’ll have to think about it, talk it over….”
Rhino interrupted her. He was always interrupting her. This made him, in her eyes, a sexist bully who didn’t value her input, not even polite enough to hear her out. So rude. The worst part was, she knew she was the smarter of the two. Maybe he knew, also. He probably did. He wasn’t stupid. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t willing to listen. He needed to feel in control. This time Mom appeared not to mind.
“That won’t be necessary. If the dog works for free, you got yourself a deal, partner. Agreed, Hiawatha, honey?”
“Agreed.”
“Agreed,” I chimed, happily.
“The way I figure it,” Barker figured, “a little civil disobedience never hurt an honest democracy.”
And so it was that Barker Ajax came to stay.