The two walked to the other end of the car with the intention of sitting back down, but as they were about to do so, Ulysses heard a scuffing behind him as if someone had carefully stepped off the ladder.
Without waiting to hear more, Ulysses spun about with his arms outstretched, inadvertently knocking Billy to the ground.
When Ulysses had heard the scuffing, it flashed through his mind that Pastor John had somehow reboarded the train and returned to confront him with vengeance in mind. But it wasn’t Pastor John. It was a white youth with contusions and a determined look. In his right hand, he had the cinched bag of a thief. Dropping the bag, he took a step forward and assumed his own fighting stance, with his arms extended.
—I don’t want to fight you, said the youth.
—No one wants to fight me, said Ulysses.
They both took a step forward.
Ulysses found himself wishing that he hadn’t shut the boxcar door. If it were open, he could make a cleaner business of it. He would simply have to grab hold of the youth by the arms and cast him off the train. With the door closed he would have to either knock the youth unconscious or secure him in a grip and have Billy open the door. But he didn’t want to put the boy anywhere within reach of the youth. So he would pick his moment. He would keep himself between Billy and the youth, draw a little closer, and then hit him on the bruised side of his face, where it was sure to be tender.
Behind him, Ulysses could hear Billy working his way onto his feet.
—Stay back, Billy, both he and the youth said at the very same time.
Then they looked at each other bewildered but unwilling to lower their arms.
Ulysses heard Billy taking a step to the side as if to see around him.
—Hey, Emmett.
With his arms still up and one eye on Ulysses, the youth took a step to his left.
—Are you all right, Billy?
—I’m all right.
—Do you know him? asked Ulysses.
—He’s my brother, said Billy. Emmett, this is Ulysses. He fought in the war like the Great Ulysses and now must wander for ten years until he’s reunited with his wife and son. But you needn’t worry. We’re not friends yet. We’re just getting acquainted.
Duchess
Look at all the houses, said Woolly in amazement. Have you ever seen so many houses?
—It’s a lot of houses, I agreed.
Earlier that day, my taxi had come around the corner just in time for me to see Woolly emerging from a park. Across the street I could see where he’d left the Studebaker—in front of a fire hydrant with the passenger-side door open and the engine running. I could also see the cop standing at the back of the car with his ticket book in hand, jotting down the number of the license plate.
—Pull over, I told the cabby.
I don’t know what Woolly said to the cop by way of explanation, but by the time I’d paid the cabby, the cop was putting away his ticket book and taking out his cuffs.
I approached wearing my best approximation of a small-town smile.
—What seems to be the trouble, officer?
（They love it when you call them officer.）
—Are you two together?
—In a manner of speaking. I work for his parents.
The cop and I both looked over at Woolly, who had wandered off to get a closer look at the fire hydrant.
When the cop gave me the rundown of Woolly’s infractions, including the fact that he didn’t seem to have his driver’s license on him, I shook my head.
—You’re preaching to the choir, officer. I kept telling them if they intended to bring him back home, they’d better hire someone to keep an eye on him. But what do I know? I’m just the groundskeeper.
The cop took another look at Woolly.
—Are you implying there’s something wrong with him?
—Let’s just say his receiver is tuned to a different frequency than yours and mine. He has a habit of wandering off, so when his mother woke up this morning and saw that her car was missing—again—she asked me to track him down.
—How did you know where to find him?
—He’s got a thing about Abraham Lincoln.
The officer looked at me with a hint of skepticism. So I showed him.
—Mr. Martin, I called. Why did you come to the park?
Woolly thought about it for a moment, then smiled.
—To see the statue of President Lincoln.
Now the officer was looking at me with a hint of uncertainty. On the one hand he had his list of infractions and his oath to maintain law and order in the state of Illinois. But what was he supposed to do? Arrest some troubled kid who’d snuck out of the house in order to pay his respects to Honest Abe?