THE HOOD of the old Dodge van seemed to be sweating as the vehicle chugged unsteadily along Highway 27, passing a line of Australian pines on the left and an open field on the right. The mid-day Florida sun was sending waves of heat shimmering upward from the cracked concrete. The van suddenly shuddered and belched forth a hissing cloud of angry steam. Valves clanked and rattled as the truck rolled slowly to a stop beside a drainage canal flanking the right side of the highway.
Jared got out of the van and raised the hood. When he removed the radiator cap he released a violent geyser of boiling water. He jwnped back, shook his scorched hand and muttered, “Jesus!”
For a moment he stared at the hissing radiator, then he walked to the side of the van and said, “It’ll take that thing a while to cool down afore I can put in some water. We might as well eat now.”
Cloma pulled herself slowly from the right door of the van. Her stomach seemed more swollen than ever. She was followed by Kristy and Bennie.
Cloma settled herself unsteadily on the ground and spread out a newspaper. From a brown paper bag she removed four cans of Vienna sausage, a box of crackers, and four bottles of hot Coke. They all sat in the white limestone dust and started eating silently.
Jared looked past the drainage canal and across the field that stretched as far as the eye could see toward the horizon. Far in the distance, giant sheets of water were being sprayed into the air, and a group of people followed a truck piled high with crates. Jared took a bite of the sausage and said, ‘I ain’t never seen a field like that in my lifetime. It looks like the whole world out there, don’t it?”
Cloma looked but said nothing.
Bennie said, “Can I let Skip out of the truck, Papa? He probably needs to do his job.”
“No. You better not. He might run out in the highway and get himself killed. You better leave him in the van ’til we get there.”
“How much farther is it, Papa?” Kristy asked.
“’Tain’t far now. We’re almost to Homestead. We’ll be there in just a little bit more, and then we can all rest up some.”
“I want to see the ocean,” Bennie said, excitement in his voice. “You said that when we got to Floridy we would see the ocean, and we ain’t seen it yet.”
“It’s over in the east,” Jared said. “You’ll get to see it soon enough.”
“Will we get to fish in the ocean?” Bennie asked.
“Yes. We’ll fish. And someday we might even own our own boat.”
“I don’t want to catch any smelly ole fish,“ Kristy said tartly. “I want a bathin’ suit. A red one in two pieces, just like you see in the magazines.”
“You all better worry about where we’ll sleep tonight, and forget all that foolishness for now,” Cloma said wearily as she gathered up the empty cans.
“Are you feelin’ all right, Cloma?” Jared asked.
“Yes. I’m fine. I’m just fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Jay, I’m fine!” she insisted. “I’m just fine.”
“Well, if you get to feelin’ poorly again, we’ll try to find a motel.”
“We can’t afford a motel,” Cloma said firmly. “And I’ve already said I’m feelin’ fine. That spell the other day was just an upset stomach. I’m fine now.”
Jared went to the van and came back with a bucket. He filled it in the drainage canal and took the water back to the van. Cloma gathered up the newspapers and bottles and put them back into the brown paper bag.
When Jared cranked the engine, they all got back inside, and the van pulled slowly back onto the highway and headed south.
The Teeter family had been on the road for almost two weeks on a trip they had expected to take no more than four or five days. The morning they left the West Virginia farm before daylight, they had all been drenched by a bone-chilling rainstorm, and the dog Skip had managed to jump from the van and escape into the darkness. Bennie had chased him for a half-hour before hemming him up in the barn and returning him soaking wet to the van.
Misfortune plagued them almost constantly. When Jared traded his pickup truck for the Dodge van, he had taken the word of the salesman that the van was in good condition. Before they reached the West Virginia state line, the water-pump gave out and had to be replaced, causing them the loss of the better part of a day. A universal joint stripped itself in North Carolina, and then the next day two tires blew out and shredded. They spent three days in a small town in north Georgia waiting at a garage for a new generator to be shipped in from Atlanta, a generator that all the while had been on a shelf in the rear of the garage but was now priced higher because of “shipping charges.” One night they stayed in a motel, but the rest of the nights they slept in the van. Then it was the spark plug wires and a coil, and finally the radiator became hostile as they moved deeper into warm weather. This slowed them to below the legal speed limit. Just north of Jacksonville, Jared was arrested and fined thirty-five dollars for a faulty brake light. The court appearance and the repairs took another day. Jared’s limited supply of cash had diminished quickly in a series of roadside garages and unexpected delays. And then to avoid any more fines on the heavily-policed interstate highways, Jared drove inland and traveled along less used state roads leading south to Lake Okeechobee and then Homestead.
All of this did not dampen the excitement of Kristy and Bennie, but it brought even deeper anxiety to Jared and Cloma. To the youngsters the trip had turned into an adventure; but to Jared and Cloma it was still the end of all things they had ever known.
With each mile they traveled, Jared’s emotions ran up and down like a yo-yo. One moment he was optimistic and confident, and the next moment he was cast again into deep doubt. He tried to appear cheerful and confident, but Cloma knew that he was tormented with doubt.
Kristy and Bennie stared out of the window in the rear door of the van as they approached the outskirts of Homestead. They had both been fascinated since they first entered the citrus country to the north of Lake Okeechobee. The miles and miles of trees laden with golden fruit seemed to them to be all the Christmases they had known rolled into one, since the only time they had ever seen or eaten oranges was on Christmas morning when they found them under the sparsely decorated tree.
On both sides of the highway there were now vegetable fields intermingled with groves of avocado and papaya and mangoes and limes and other strange things they had never seen. Farm roads leading off to the left and right were lined with towering Australian pines and stately royal palms and dumpy cabbage palms. Stands displaying an endless variety of fruits and vegetables were located at almost every intersection.
Jared suddenly turned to Cloma and said, as if in an unexpected revelation, “That’s what we’ll have, Cloma! A roadside stand where we can sell fruits and vegetables. We’ll do it as soon as we can save up the money. We can make ourselves a good livin’ with a stand. It won’t take us no time at all to get one.”
Cloma considered the idea for a moment, and then she said enthusiastically, “That would be real good. Maybe we could make some things ourselves and sell them too. You were always good at makin’ cane-bottom chairs, and Kristy makes real fine pot-holders. Bennie could make whatnot shelves and those little carved animals he makes, and I could sew aprons and blouses and make those red and yellow sunbonnets some folks like. If we had a little piece of land behind the stand, we could grow our own vegetables too.”
Jared was pleased that she agreed. He smiled as he said with his first excitement in weeks, “We’ll do it! It won’t take us no time at all!”
The two-lane highway was now jammed with huge trucks and cars and pickups, all seemingly frantic to move faster toward a distant destination. Driving became more and more difficult for Jared, and the task took all of his attention. He prayed silently that the radiator would not boil again and force him from the highway.
Highway 27 was also the main street leading through the business section of Homestead, and Jared felt a tremendous sensation of relief when he passed the city limits of this place they had searched for so long and had endured so many difficulties to reach. He sighed when he stopped for the first traffic light. But his feeling of relief that the long_ trip was finally ended was immediately replaced by the bewilderment of being in a totally strange place and not knowing where to go or what to do. He drove the van even more slowly, backing up traffic behind him and causing other impatient drivers to honk their horns and gesture angrily. They all stared like tourists as they passed block after block of stores and restaurants and cocktail lounges and supermarkets unlike anything they had ever seen in their rural section of West Virginia.
On the southern end of the city they came to an area of huge packing houses where the vegetables were processed before being shipped to distant markets. Before he realized it, Jared had left Homestead and entered Florida City. He finally pulled to the side of the road and stopped.
For a moment they all became silent with exhaustion, and then Bennie said, “I gotta leak, Papa. And I know Skip is about to bust.”
The small black and white dog was leaning against one wall of the van, panting.
Cloma said, “We should have never brought that dog with us. We could have given him away. A trip like this is no place for a dog.”
“Aw, Cloma, you know the kids couldn’t leave Skip behind,” Jared said. “And besides, he won’t be any trouble.”
Bennie put his arm around the dog and said, “I’ll take care of him, Mamma. You don’t need to worry none about him.”
“I’ll find a service station and get gas, and you can use the restrooms there,” Jared said, cranking the motor again.
He pulled into a station on the next corner. Bennie took Skip behind the building while his mother and Kristy went to the women’s room.
The attendant set the automatic control on the pump nozzle and said to Jared, “You folks tourists?”
“No,” Jared said. “We’re down here lookin’ for work.”
“You mean picking?” the man asked.
“Well, anything,” Jared replied. “I’m not particular just so long as it’s honest work.”
“Jobs in the fields are pretty hard to come by right now, and that’s about all there is around here,” the man said as he stared at Jared’s lanky body and faded overalls. “Besides all the regular migrants, the place is swarming with Cubans, and there’s been a steady stream of folks like you coming in here from the Carolinas and West Virginia and Georgia and Alabama and all over the place. I ain’t never seen nothing like it.”
“You mean there ain’t no work?” Jared asked, deep concern in his voice.
“Well, there’s some, but you sure got to look to find it. And it might be pretty hard for you with no experience. There’s a line-up every morning right over yonder on the street corner.”
“What’s that?” Jared asked.
“All the folks who want jobs in the field gather over there, and the contractors hire who they want. If you want to try that, you better get there early, way before sun-up. There’s always a lot more people than jobs.”
“I’ll be there,” Jared said.
The man then turned his attention from Jared and watched Kristy as she came from the restroom and walked back to the van. He noticed every move of her body, the full breasts and hips, and then he said to Jared, “That your girl?”
“That’s my daughter Kristy,” Jared replied.
“How old is she?”
“She’s sixteen, and she’s a mighty fine girl,” Jared said proudly.
The man studied Kristy closely again, and then he said, “The way she’s built, she could easily pass for twenty. She could get a job real easy.”
“How’s that?” Jared asked curiously.
“Can she dance?”
“Back home we had a barn dance every Saturday night. She’s pretty good at it.”
“I mean go-go dance,” the man said. “She could get a job easy in any of the lounges, and that pays good money. She could get you by ’til you find work.”
“What’s this go-go dancin’?” Jared asked.
The man looked at Jared curiously and said, “You know, fellow, go-go. Dancing naked from the waist up with the tits showing. The way she’s built, she could take her pick of the joints.”
An instant rage boiled up within Jared. He said quickly, “How much I owe you, fellow?”
“Eight dollars even. You want the oil checked?”
“I don’t want nothin’ more from you!” Jared shot back angrily. His hands trembled as he handed the man the money. Then he jumped into the van and screeched the tires as he drove away.
Cloma was startled by the sudden burst of speed. She said, “What’s the matter, Jay? Did somethin’ happen back there?”
“No. Nothin’,” Jared said, trying to calm his voice. “It’s gettin’ late, and we gotta try and find a place to make camp fer tonight.”
Jared turned the van back east, and then he drove slowly along a narrow side street. It took him several minutes to brush from his mind the thought of Kristy dancing naked in a bar. He knew he had come close to striking the man but was glad that he had simply driven away. Trouble was one thing he did not need at this point.
He soon came to a small park with swings, benches and a picnic area with a covered pavilion and barbeque grille. No one was there, so Jared turned the van into the park and stopped by the pavilion. He said, “This looks about as good as we’ll find. And there’s a roof fer me and Bennie to sleep under while you and Kristy can have the van.”
Bennie said, “Can I let Skip out of the truck, Papa?” “Well, you better put a rope around his neck and tie him to the front bumper. They’s bound to be rabbits around here, and I don’t feel a mind to be chasin’ Skip all over south Floridy.”
Jared took two bedrolls out of the van and placed them on the concrete beneath the pavilion. He turned to Cloma and said, “How much vittles we got left?”
Cloma settled herself on a bench and replied, “We got about a half-dozen cans of Vienna sausage, some bread, and a can of peaches.”
“That’ll do fer tonight,” Jared said. “I’ll see to some supplies in the mornin’.”
Bennie came running around the side of the van and said with excitement, “They’s a bunch of funny-lookin’ trees right over yonder, Papa! And they got real bananas growin’ on them! You want me to go and pick some for supper?”
“No. You better not do that. They probably belong to somebody. But you better scout around and scrape up some branches. We’ll need a fire later.”
Kristy came from the van and said, “Papa, they’s somethin’ bitin’ all over me. It stings somethin’ awful.”
Jared suddenly slapped at his face and arms and said, “Skeeters! Jesus, the whole place is swarmin’ with skeeters. That’s all we need now, to be et alive by skeeters. Maybe we can smoke ’em away.”
Bennie slapped his arms and said, “I’ll get the wood now, Papa. We’ll show them skeeters a thing or two for sure.”
The sun was just beginning to set when the patrol car passed the park. The officer inside noticed the West Virginia tag and the bedrolls under the pavilion. He turned, came back and parked beside the van. Then he got out and said, “You folks having a cookout?”
Jared got up from the bench and said, “No, we’re not doin’ any cookin’. We done et. We’re just tryin’ to run the skeeters off with the smoke.”
The officer was a young man of about thirty. He looked to the van and then back to Jared. “I see you folks are from West Virginia. That’s a pretty far piece from here. You just down for a vacation?”
“No, we come to stay,” Jared replied. “We just got in this afternoon, and I’ll start lookin’ fer work tomorrow.”
“Well,” the officer said hesitantly, “it’s o.k. for you to eat here and rest for a while, but you can’t stay the night. Overnight camping in a city park is against the law. You’ll have to move on before dark.”
Jared didn’t understand. He said, “Ain’t this public property?”
“Yes, it’s public property,” the officer replied.
“Back in West Virginny, anybody who wants to can camp on public property so long as they don’t disturb nothin’. We ain’t doin’ no harm.”
“I’m sorry,” the officer said, noticing that the woman was heavy with child. “It’s the law, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Why don’t you go to a motel or a boarding house for the night?”
“I guess we could,” Jared said, “but we just can’t rightly afford it. We had a lot of bad luck comin’ down, and we need to save all the money we can.”
“You can go to the Salvation Anny place, then,” the officer said.
“The Salvation Army?” Jared questioned. “We’re mountain folk, and we don’t take charity from nobody.”
The officer was trying to be patient because of the woman and the children. Turning migrants out of the park at night was a regular nightly routine for him. He said, “It wouldn’t exactly be charity. The Salvation Army is there just to help folks like you when they need help. They have a big empty lot with trees where you could park the van for tonight and make camp. Just doing that wouldn’t be charity.”
“I guess we could do that,” Jared said. “We do need a place to camp fer tonight, and as soon as I find work tomorrow, I’ll look about and find us a boardin’ house ’til we can get our own place. We don’t want to break any laws. We’re peaceable folks. All we want is to make a home here.”
The officer was relieved. He said, “Well, you go right up there one block, turn left, go for four more blocks, and the Salvation Army is right on the corner. You can’t miss it. It’s a big two-story white frame house.”
As soon as the patrol car had left, Jared gathered up the bedrolls and put them into the van. Bennie untied Skip and brought him inside, and then they drove slowly up the street. Jared found the house with no trouble, and he parked the van beneath a huge live oak. He then got out and walked to the front of the house.
A man got up from a rocking chair on the porch and came to meet Jared. He looked Jared over carefully and said, “Something we can do for you?”
Jared still did not like the idea of being here, and he was glad that his friends back in West Virginia would never know that he had gone to the Salvation Army. He said reluctantly, “We just need a place to park the van fer tonight and make camp. A policeman sent us here. Is it o.k. there under the tree?”
“That’s fine,” the man said. “You folks just passing through?”
“No, we’re here to stay,” Jared answered. “I’ll find work tomorrow, and then I’ll get us a place. We had some bad luck comin’ down.”
“If you want, there’s empty bunks upstairs. It’s free, and you can sleep inside out of the night air. There’s also hot showers.”
“We’ll stay in the van,” Jared replied.
“Suit yourself. You can park out there as long as you like. We’ve got a sitting room inside with a TV. While you’re out looking for work tomorrow, your folks can stay here. And supper will be ready in about fifteen minutes. It’s nothing fancy — hot franks and beans, cole slaw, and hot coffee. You’re welcome to eat with us if you wish.”
The thought of hot food and coffee interested Jared. He had not had coffee for more than a week, and he knew that the others were not satisfied with the small cans of Vienna sausage that had been their supper. He said, “How much does it cost?”
“It’s free,” the man replied.
“We can’t take your food fer nothin’,” Jared said. “We’re mountain folk, and we don’t take charity. How much would it cost if we paid?”
The man hesitated for a moment, and then he said, “Well, you can put whatever you wish in the donation box inside the hall. I’d say that fifty cents would be fine for all of you.”
“That seems fair enough,” Jared said. “We’ll all come on inside as soon as we make camp. And we do thank you rightly fer letting us park the van.”
“That’s what we’re here for,” the man replied. As he turned and went back up the steps to the porch, he muttered to himself, “Mountain folk!”