Chapter Five

Alice McQuary filled a wicker basket with ham sandwiches and roast beef sandwiches and egg salad sandwiches, potato salad, pickles, cheese, two apples, and a cherry pie. That was for Mack's lunch. She handed the basket to him with a moist kiss on his cheek and a teary, "Be careful!" She also hung a canteen of water around his neck as if she were bestowing the Congressional Medal of Honor.

Mack gave her a decorous peck. "Happy birthday, Mom. I'm sorry I won't be here to celebrate with you and Dad this evening." Mack was more affectionate when he was getting what he wanted, but of course, that's true for all of us.

"Thank you, dear." She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. "We'll miss you."

Mack gave her his most convincing sad-smile and said, "I'll be home before you know it, and we'll celebrate all over again." The screen door shut behind him with a gentle thump, and he all but skipped down the back steps. At the same time, A.L. was driving the mule and wagon from the barn and into the gray morning. Mack observed as he had before how much his father and the mule resembled one another, and he smirked in his heart. A. L. pulled back on the reins and leaned down to take the basket, which Mack handed up with a fulsome, "Thank you, Dad." Then, he climbed up on the wagon bench. A.L. handed Mack a canvas pouch and said, "There's enough money to buy extra collars, so buy as many as you can." Mack put the envelope in the basket with his lunch.

"Okay." Mack looked around. "I think I have everything."

"Where's your hat?"

Mack had left his hat on the kitchen table, and he was peeved that his father remembered it before he did. Mack said, "I decided not to wear my hat today. The sky is overcast, and it's cool. I'll be alright."

"It might rain."

"I guess I'll get wet."

"Do you want me to get it for you?"

"I'm fine, Dad. Really."

"If the sun comes out, you might get sunburned."

"I'm fine!"

A.L. flicked the reins, and the mule perked its ears and stepped forward.

A.L. said, "Now when you get to the Leader, remember to tell them we have a seven column Prouty. That's important. She's a seven column."

"Good God, Dad! I hope you don't really think I need to be told that! I've been cranking the damn thing for eight years!"

A.L. replied in a grim voice, "Do not take the name of the Lord Thy God in vain. Let no unwholesome word proceed from thy mouth. Be ye holy as your Father in heaven is holy." Then he said, "Are you sure you don't want your hat?" Mack closed his eyes, and his father cracked the reins with a pop.

They were clattering down Spring Avenue, when the sun broke through the clouds, and a beautiful swatch of blue appeared beyond the gray. A.L.'s native cheerfulness overcame his displeasure, and he began whistling. Mack clenched his jaws but said nothing. When they reached the depot, Mack climbed down from the wagon, and A.L. said, "Have a good trip, son! Tell Aunt Mildred and Uncle Andrew we send our love."

"Basket?" Mack asked.

A.L. handed him the basket of food.

"Canteen?"

A.L. handed him the canteen. "Don't forget to give Mildred your mother's preserves."

"Valise?"

A.L. craned around, picked up the valise, and passed it down to Mack. Mack started for the platform, and his father called out to him, "Thanks again for making the trip."

Mack turned toward his father and gave him a wry smile. "You're welcome."

"Don't lose the pouch!"

Mack walked to the ticket window and said, "Round trip to Springfield, please."

The plan Mack was supposed to follow was this: He would arrive in Springfield at around half-past ten, have a mid-morning lunch from the wicker basket, rent a hack to the office of the Springfield Leader, buy the replacement cams, and proceed to the home of his Aunt Mildred Maloney and her husband, Uncle Andrew. Mildred and Andrew lived in South Springfield. Andrew had made a tidy sum back in 1881—he went by "Andy" in the days before wealth—when he sold his farm north of town to the Frisco Railroad. He bought another farm adjacent to the old Wilson's Creek Battlefield, built a stucco hacienda, and undertook the life befitting a gentleman, which, according to Alice McQuary, involved gambling, drinking, and occasional whoring. Mack had often heard his mother say, "Your poor Aunt Mildred! All that money and nothing but heartbreak for her."

Alice had sent along a Mason jar of pear preserves and a card expressing her desire that Mildred and Andrew might "deign to share the simple joys of their poorer relations." The following day, Mack would return on the one o'clock train whereupon he and A.L. would repair the press so that printing could resume on Friday.

It was a simple plan.

Mack arrived in Springfield shortly after eleven—the train had made innumerable stops in nameless towns to take on pointless people, or so Mack thought when he saw their worn dungarees, dull dresses, and silly faces. He disembarked with these common folk into a morning delightfully cool, bright, and Aprilish with light green everywhere. He sat on a bench in the sun and opened the basket to find the tasty things his mother had packed, and he ate them with good appetite. He particularly enjoyed the pie. Afterwards, he restored the remnants to the basket—the crumbs alone could have fed the twelve tribes of Israel—dug a piece of meat from between his teeth, gathered his things, and approached a hansom cab waiting in the queue. His father had put the address of the Springfield Leader in the pouch, and Mack handed the slip of paper to the driver. The driver spat and nodded his head, so Mack climbed into the cab and set the valise and basket beside him on the bench seat. A flick of the reins and a brisk "chk, chk," and the cab clattered off: first down Commercial Street and then south on Boonville.

As they jostled along, Mack found himself at leisure to appraise the Springfieldians who passed on the sidewalks. They seemed pleasant and unoriginal, which, of course, was what he expected. The older fellows wore tweed suits and smoked cigars and walked with the self-importance of men with money. Some of the younger men smoked cigarettes and strolled more languidly; Mack fancied they might be poets or petty criminals. Mack also saw several farmers in conspicuously new overalls with their families trailing behind them.

Now for the fairer sex. The ladies of maturer age wore dresses that reached their shoes and bonnets that shadowed their features, but the young ladies did not, and their fine faces were rosy from the spring sun and their own merriment. Their dresses were shorter, too, and showed their ankles. Mack had a happy time watching the girls as they laughed at one another's jokes. He imagined—well, it's better not to say what he imagined, but it's safe to say his fantasies were pleasant. He longed to touch the girls, their hair, you know, and the palms of their hands, to stroke their cheeks and perhaps press his finger lightly to their smiling lips, then let his finger slip into their wet mouths and feel the soft bed of their tongues.

Pleasant fantasies on an April day in the cool sunshine!