“Yeah, Kid, and someday you won’t need a sitter.”
“Are you going to make the beds, too?”
“No, but I’ll leave you to find your own way to Florida if you don’t hurry up and get ready.”
I needed no more motivation. I could almost smell the salt.
We waited for a little string of traffic to pass before pulling away from the Sleep Inn Hotel. The last bead on the string had a sheriff’s star on the side. A bareheaded deputy drove, his short hair barely moved by the air. A drowsy young Negro rode in the back with his arms behind him.
Lenny didn’t pull out. He drummed his fingers on the wheel. “Was that Moon?”
I thought for a second. “It looked a little like him. Do you think he got in a little trouble with the weed?”
“Let’s find out.”
Lenny drove us out to the intersection where we had dropped off Moon the night before. In the daylight, we could see a little house through the trees. We drove on a quarter-mile and found a narrow lane that led back to it.
It looked abandoned at first. We heard someone before we saw anyone. A girl sat in the shade of a porch that stretched across the front of the house. She was crying, sitting motionless in a rocker.
“Hello,” said Lenny. He spoke softly, just loud enough to be heard through the girl’s moans. “We’re here to see Moon. Are you his sister?”
The girl jumped up and ran into the house. She slammed the door behind her.
“That is Moon’s wife.” A high, rough voice called from behind us. I almost jumped out of my skin.
We turned to see little woman who was almost ink black; her face was both old and ageless. She wore a threadbare, gray dress. Her hands carried a half bushel of greens and tomatoes. “What do you want?”
“We thought we saw Moon being taken off by the police. We wanted to see if he was okay?”
“You saw right. He is not okay.” He regarded us coldly. She took us in with our wagon with the white letters on the side. “Are you the ones that helped him?”
Whole Grain Serial 