As the new morning started to enter his consciousness, the boy, lying on his side in the bed, opened his eyes and focused on the coins and the pocket watch on the nightstand. He then closed his eyes again and enjoyed the softness of the hotel bed. For the last month, he and his father had been sleeping on the ground since they saddled their horse, Sox, and headed west from St. Louis. Having only one bed in their home in Missouri, and being used to sleeping next to his father on the road, the boy reached behind him, but no one was there. He sat up and saw the empty side of the bed, noticing his father was not in the room. They had placed their hats on the dresser the night before, but only his hat remained. The dresser, the night‐ stand, and the chair, where his father had hung his trousers on the other side of the sparsely furnished room, were empty. He was alone.
“Pap?”
There was no answer.
He must be out at the privy, or maybe he’s downstairs eatin’ breakfast, the boy thought as he sat on the side of thebed, staring at his crumpled clothes lying in a pile on the floor, waiting. Soon his patience ran out, and he went to thewindow, thinking his father may be out in front of the hotel,but he was not there. He decided to get dressed and godownstairs to find him.He opened the door just enough to peek out into theempty hallway of the hotel. He could hear the clinking ofknives and forks against the plates and the quiet chatter ofthe other guests. He swung the door wide and walked downthe hall toward the stairway, where he smelled the food inthe dining room. As he descended the stairs, he stepped on asqueaky tread, and all the faces around the table turnedtoward him. He surveyed the guests. No Pap.Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he walked over to thefront desk and asked the clerk, “Have you seen my pap?”
“What’s that?” the clerk answered, leaning over the counter to get a look at the boy.
“You seen my pap?”
“What’s he look like, son?”
“He’s tall, got dark hair, and a mustache.”
“Nope. I haven’t seen anyone like that this morning.
Maybe he went down to Milly’s restaurant, down next to the hardware store.”
He could feel the diners’ eyes on him as he started walking toward the front door.
“You might try to find him at the livery stable,” someone suggested.
The boy walked out onto the porch and looked up and down the dirt road. The town was much smaller than St. Louis. There was only one road running east and west down the center of the town. Another road led north from outside of town, and one went to the south on the other end of the main road. There were only a few people out that time of the morning, so it was easy to see his father was not one of them. He started to walk toward Milly’s, but when he got to the end of the porch, he remembered the privy. He stepped off and skipped toward the back of the hotel and down the path just as a big man opened the door and came out, lifting his suspender over his shoulder.
“You might want to wait for a few minutes before you go in there, sonny,” the man warned. “Might be a little strong for a while.”
“You seen my pap?” the boy asked.
“No, he wasn’t in there with me,” came the reply. “He ain’t inside eatin’ with the others?”
The boy shook his head no and walked to the other privy to check it. Even though the door was open, he had to look inside to make sure, then he started back toward the road. As the man headed through the back door of the hotel, the boy asked, “You know where Milly’s is?”
The man pointed up the road. “Yeah, it’s up that way on the right.”
The boy walked to the road, stepped up onto the wooden walkway, and began his door-to-door search. He peered through the shop windows for his father. Walking a little further, he then heard the clinking of silverware and glasses. The boy entered through the open door of the restaurant, the smell of bacon and fresh biscuits making his mouth water.
“You need somethin’, honey?” a short rotund woman with gray hair swept up into a bun on the top of her head and flour on her apron, holding a big pot of coffee, asked the boy.
“No, ma’am. I’m lookin’ for my pap, but I can see he ain’t here.”
I’ll go check the stable, he thought. Maybe Pap is there saddling Sox and gettin’ everything ready for the trip.
When he got there, the blacksmith was busy in his shop, loading fresh scraps of wood into his hearth and working the bellows to bring life to the coals from the previous day’s job.
The boy stood in the enormous doorway. His arms are as big around as my legs, he thought. I wish I had—
His thought was startled away by the booming voice of
the blacksmith. “What cha want, boy?”
“Uh, I’m lookin’ for my pap,” he replied. “He brought Sox here yesterday, right after we checked into the hotel. He’s gray with one white sock.” He tapped his left forearm to show the location of the horse’s sock.
“He came and got his horse a couple hours ago and headed up the North Road. I’d suspect that he’ll be back shortly, and he’ll be lookin’ for ya.”
If Pap rode out the North Road, then there ain’t no need lookin’ around town for him, the boy thought. He turned and walked back to the hotel.
In the foyer, there was a large round table with a bowl of peaches on it. He grabbed one and started toward the stairs, and on his way past the breakfast table, now only containing the dirty dishes, he grabbed a biscuit left on a plate. When he entered his room, he expected to find his father there and thought he would be in trouble for leaving. When he shut the door, however, he was alone again.
He pulled his boots on, lay down on the bed, and began to eat his biscuit. With the first bite, a large portion crumbled and fell down the side of his face and onto the bed. He brushed the remnants into a pile and squeezed a handful to make them into a biscuit again. He then started to eat the glob, brushing the remaining crumbs on the bed into a pile again. He picked them up, leaned his head back, and poured them into his mouth. His mouth was so full of the biscuit he could barely chew as he brushed the few remaining crumbs onto the floor. His mouth was so dry he could not swallow, so he took a bite of the peach to bring some moisture to his aid. As he continued chewing, he scooted the ladder-back chair to the window.
The boy sat there munching on the rest of his peach, thankful he didn’t choke on the reconstituted biscuit. The town became busy with people running their errands and the plodding of draw horses that pulled the wagons, some full of supplies and some ready to be loaded with supplies at the few stores on each side of the road. He kept an attentive view to catch sight of the gray horse. Though he tried to maintain his vigilance into the afternoon, at times he lost his patience and had to go down the stairs or back to the outhouse. Finally, Mrs. Hannon, the owner, her brown hair prematurely streaked with gray and pulled back into a long braid, came into the room to clean it.
“I thought you were gone,” she told the boy as she entered. She wore a patterned skirt and a faded blue top with the sleeves rolled halfway up her forearms. “I gotta clean this room up, so you’ll have to leave or pay for another night.”
“I’m waitin’ for my pap to come back. He ought to be here any time now. We’re goin’ to my aunt Mary’s house.”
“Where’s your aunt’s house at?”
“I dunno, but I think we’re supposed to be there tomorrow or the next day. She’s ’spectin’ us,” the boy told her.
“What’s your name?”
“Ezekiel Harrison, but everyone calls me Bonkie.”
“Why don’t they call you Zeke?”
“I dunno,” he replied. “It’s just what everybody’s always called me.”
“You say you’re waiting for your daddy. Where’s your momma? Is she waiting at your aunt’s house for ya?”
“Nah, it’s just me and my pap. My momma and little brother died from the fever when I was a little kid,” he said.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. Where’d you come from?”
“We used to live in St. Louis. Down by the river. We used to hear the big boats goin’ up and down the water. Sometimes a showboat would tie up and play music,” he said
as his face lit up.
“How long did you live there?”
“All my life, I reckon. It’s the only place I remember, ’til we came here.”
“How old are you?”
“I’m ten and a half.”
“Kind of little for your age, ain’t ya? I figured you to be about seven or so.”
“I know. My pap says that in a couple of years, I’m the kind of kid that’ll shoot up all of a sudden.”
“Your father only paid for one night, and that was last night. You got any money?”
“There’s some on the table by the bed, but I ain’t counted it yet though. My pap’s watch is there too,” he said.
She walked to the nightstand and counted the coins. “Looks like you got two dollars and twelve cents here,” she said as she inspected the watch and held it up to her ear. “I tell you what. I’ll take this here dollar, and you can stay here two more nights. When your father comes back, you can either stay one night, and I’ll give you back fifty cents of it, or if he wants to stay two nights, then you’ll be all paid up.
How’s that sound to ya?”
“I guess that’ll be okay,” he said, not quite sure of the deal he just made.
“I’ll sweep up these crumbs off the floor and leave the room as it is. What are these? Biscuit crumbs? There ain’t no eating in the rooms, but I guess you didn’t know that. There’s breakfast in the morning and dinner in the evening. You’re expected at the table for each,” she told him as she swept the leftovers into a dustpan and left the room.
Mrs. Hannon moved down the hall to clean the next room, and Bonkie resumed his vigilance at the window until the sun was at the other end of the main road, so he knew daylight would end before long. He was bored and wanted something to do. I better not leave the room ’cause if Pap comes back and I ain’t here, he might get worried, he thought. I know what I can do. I’ll tell the man at the desk to let Pap know that I’m still here, and I’ll be back in a little while.
Satisfied with the remedy he thought up to relieve his father’s worry, he slipped on his boots and headed down the stairs. At the front desk, he told the clerk of his plans to explore the town and asked him to let his father know where he was. He stepped out onto the porch, where an old man was sitting in a rocking chair, sipping a cup of coffee. Bonkie tried to decide which way he wanted to begin his exploration. He thought, I might walk down to Milly’s just to make sure Pap ain’t there.
“Where ya headed, boy?” the old man asked.
“I dunno,” the boy said as he turned toward the older gentleman. “I’ve been up in our room almost all day waitin’ for my pap to get back, so I thought I’d take a look around town.”
The old man nodded his head to the right. “Well, down that there way is the general store, Milly’s restaurant, the hardware store, and the jailhouse. Up this a way, there ain’t much to see. You got the tack shop, the livery stable, and the blacksmith’s shop. Other than that, all you got is some people’s houses and, of course, the church and schoolhouse. It’s summertime, so I guess you ain’t interested in the schoolhouse.”
“I ain’t never been to no school,” the boy informed the old man. “My pap’s been learnin’ me all I need to know. When my momma was alive, I remember that I was gonna go to school, but then she died. I had my own chickens and rabbits. I’m gonna have me a farm someday.”
“Where ya gonna have this farm?” the old man asked.
“It’s gonna be by a stream, so I can have fresh water and set some traps and fish. It’ll have a small cabin, and it’ll be close to the woods so I can have plenty of firewood for the winter, and I can hunt in there. I’ll have a team of—”
“When ya gonna get your spread?” the old man interrupted.
“I gotta get me some money first.”