I stared into a mirror, admiring her pretty earrings and the cosmetics she’d put on me. “I do look older now. Much obliged, Pearl,” I told her, yawning.
It had been a fine pajama party, and we both staggered around giggling as we put away the records, tidied up, and washed the dishes.
Pearl slipped behind the screen and put on a gown. Outside, Junia called out with a long bray. “That doesn’t sound good. I better check on her.” I reached for the door leading to the catwalk, but Pearl ran over to me and grabbed my arm, pulling me back. “No wandering outside in the dark while drinking. Junia will be fine. She has Pie to keep her company.”
I shook my head and tried to shrug off the intoxication. “I’m pie-faced,” I admitted, laughing, plopping down on the soft pallet she’d made for me.
Pearl sank down onto her bed and raised the stuffed horse in front of her face. “There you are, dear Mr. Cleveland. Let’s giddy-up and get going and outrun the nightmares tonight… C’mon, off to sweet dreamland we go, Mr. Cleveland,” she said, the corn-husk mattress chattering into her singsong as she turned over. But her words weren’t light or playful; they were stretched out into a tired, woeful plea.
Thirty-Two
Screams broke through my deadened slumber.
Early morning, confused and still reeling from the previous night’s spirits, I coughed, the smell of smoke tickling, as I struggled to come fully awake.
“Fire, Honey, Honey.” For a moment, I couldn’t grip my bearings or who was calling me, and my sluggish mind flitted to my home over in Thousandsticks, then to my small bed at Retta’s, and back over to the Carter homestead.
Then I heard her yell again, curse, and jerk on the trapdoor.
Bewildered, I jumped up off the pallet, tangling in the blankets, coughing, stumbling. “Pearl?” I searched around and pulled on my boots. The early morning light streamed into the cab, slashing yellows across the trails of smoke filling inside.
“There’s a fire outside this damn trap and we’re locked in, Honey.”
Cold fear dropped into my belly, souring. “Gillis,” I whispered.
“And his cousin Robbie! I heard their footsteps. Hand me the ax, Honey. Hurry!” She stomped down on the trapdoor with her boot.
“What about the door that opens to the catwalk?” I said, rushing over to the stove and fetching the ax, ducking low to stay below the smoke.
She coughed and shook her head. “We don’t want to be stuck out there in case it all goes up. Need to get to the metal landings and out of this cab. And the only way down is through this damn trap.”
I rubbed my eyes, the smoke blurring my vision. “Should I open the windows?”
“Keep them closed, Honey, so the fire doesn’t swoop in on us.”
I handed her the ax. Coughing more, she lifted the heavy handle and swung it down. “Quick, wet some towels.” Her words were strangled by the smoke.
She dropped the ax onto the trapdoor, but the thick oak board didn’t give. Again, she slammed it down, shaking the cab, as I scurried over to the closet, choking, wondering if whoever had set the fire had broken the telephone lines.
Bumping against the washstand, I wet the towels, my face and hair, then passed a soaked one to her, pressing the other to my nose, my eyes and chest. The smoke was thick and darkening, swallowing us.
Down below, Pie whinnied and Junia shrieked.
Pearl struck the door several more times, but it still wouldn’t budge. Then she whacked at the hinges and frame, splintering pieces of wood.
The smoke was suffocating, and we coughed and wheezed, gasping for air. I buried my face in the towel and bit down, the panic threatening to erupt into screams, my heart galloping. “Pearl,” I moaned.