The train slowed for its eminent arrival and layover in Spokane, Washington. Since fleeing Oregon City, Joy had been traveling for three days and she was tired, cranky, and ready for a bath. She didn't think she had ever gone so long without a tub bath. Cookie and Crusty didn't seem bothered by sponge baths at layovers.
She was now ready to splurge on a hotel, but the first one they entered was full, or at least that's what the desk clerk claimed. Joy was more inclined to think that the short, skinny, bespectacled and balding man, who eyed them over the top of his glasses, wasn't impressed by two women dressed as boys traveling with an obvious hobo.
Even when she said she had money to pay for their rooms, he simply turned his head to help another patron. That kicked up her ire and she uncharacteristically lashed out, "My father and mother could purchase this entire town if they wanted and run you out!"
The rude little man had simply eyed her again over the top of his glasses. "Really? They could purchase the entire state and it wouldn't change the fact that I don't have rooms for you."
In addition to being tired and hungry, Joy was now angry. Discounting Walker's aunt, she had never been treated so offensively. Cookie grabbed her arm and pulled her into the street. Crusty followed with a bemused expression. Joy was still fuming. "I can't believe how people are treating us."
Cookie said, "Believe it. I been puttin' up with it most o' my life."
The next hotel also had no vacancies.
Joy's ire suddenly deflated into exhaustion. "What now? Do we sleep in the gutter?"
She saw a look pass between Cookie and Crusty, and Crusty said, "Follow me."
An hour later, Joy found herself sitting around a fire in a hobo camp and sipping soup dipped into a tin can. A dozen or so men and two women crouched around the fire and told tales of their travels. It seemed that Crusty knew most of the men and one of the women. Before they'd entered the camp, however, he'd said to Joy, "My dear, from this moment on, you must consider yourself poorer than a church mouse. You have no money, no family, and no home." He'd gotten close and stared into her eyes. "Because if you have those things, you will be accosted and robbed of the money that is strapped to your leg. Do you understand?"
Joy had glanced at Cookie who was nodding rapidly in agreement, and stuttered, "I-I understand."
When the hobos started passing around flasks of whiskey and jugs of moonshine, their stories became outrageous. Joy was relieved when Crusty only sipped once and said, "As much as I enjoy rehashing memories, I fear my lovely companions and I must catch some shuteye. We have a boxcar to hop tomorrow and we don't want to end up under the wheels, rather than atop them. Goodnight, my long-time friends." His words were accepted without question.
Crusty led them a short distance from camp and opened his knapsack. He pulled out a threadbare blanket and handed it to Joy, but Cookie said, "That's okay, Crusty, I got a blanket big enough for me and Joy.
As soon as Joy's head hit a tuft of grass, she was asleep.
The next morning, a shaft of light threading through a heavy curtain of leaves awakened her. She pulled her blanket closer and rolled onto her side. The bed of grass actually felt comfortable and she started to drift back to sleep.
"Oh, no, you don't."
Joy opened one eye to see Cookie squatting beside her.
"We got a train to catch," said the persistent girl, and poked Joy in the ribs. She hit a ticklish spot and Joy giggled.
The slight breeze was brisk and cold and Joy pulled the blanket to her chin as she reluctantly sat up and scooted backwards against a tree trunk. "Aren't you cold?" she asked.
Cookie shrugged. "I was, but not now. That's why you gotta get up and move around. There's a pot o' coffee on the fire. It's watered down and tastes like hell, but it'll warm you."
Joy asked, "So, you live like this all the time?"
Again Cookie shrugged. "Not all the time. Sometimes I find a job payin' enough so's I can rent a shack or someone's back room."
Joy processed her response and compared it to her own comfortable upbringing. Then she remembered Crusty's words from the previous night. "Crusty didn't mean it when he said we'd hop a boxcar, did he?"
Cookie leaned close and said low, "'Course not. He wants everyone to think we're transients. If they guessed you had money, they'd strip and rob you faster'n a chicken escapin' the hatchet."
Joy gulped and Cookie laughed.
Cookie said, "Come on, Joyrider. Lessen' you forgot, we got a destination waitin' fer us."
After a trip behind a tree to relieve herself, Joy was again sitting around a campfire sipping horrible coffee from a can held in one hand, and the remains of soup from a can held in the other. Since she was ravenous, the soup actually tasted okay. A sudden vision of Aunt Zena's reaction to her being dressed as a man and in the company of hobos caused Joy to choke on her coffee. She coughed so hard that the hobo next to her patted her on the back. The old man with sly eyes said, "You sure got nice clothes fer bein' on the road."
Across from her, Cookie laughed. "Yeah. And we give thanks to the mama who was hangin' her laundry out to dry. Soon's she turned her back, Joy was snatchin' us some new duds." She stood and preened. "Ya like mine, too?"
The morning gathering of homeless people was fewer than the night before and they all appeared to have hangovers. They paid little attention to Cookie's explanation, preferring to concentrate on their breakfast beverages of coffee, soup, and whiskey.
Crusty emerged from the trees and approached the fire, warming his hands. The frosty air painted his breath in a cloud when he said, "Well, my friends, as Shakespeare once wrote, 'Parting is such sweet sorrow.' But the day is maturing and my ladies and I must bid you adieu."
The transient next to Joy said, "We're gonna miss you, Crusty. Too bad we're goin' in opposite directions. And why are you headed north when the warm weather is south?"
Crusty replied, "I haven't been to northern Montana in ten years. I guess I just want to see it once more before I die."
Another old man piped up, "Hell, Crusty, if'n you do die, you'll just go to that place in heaven reserved for the likes o' people like us."
Across from Joy a woman snorted, "Frank, that place ain't in heaven; it's in hell."
Everyone laughed and Frank reached for the coffee pot. "Yeah, guess you're right 'cause this coffee tastes like it come straight from the pits o' hell."
That brought another round of laughter and snide remarks. Crusty motioned for Joy and Cookie to join him and they bid goodbye to their hobo hosts to followed the train tracks back to town.
After reaching the depot, their train was already boarding. Thankfully, standard class wasn't as crowded as before, and Crusty was able to stretch out on three seats across the aisle from Joy and Cookie.
Joy sat beside the window watching the passing terrain. Montana, here I come.