Secrets of St. Joe by Charles Farley

Author:Charles Farley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pineapple Press
Published: 2015-12-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

The doctor stopped by his office the next morning and made sure Nadyne was prepared to deal the new day’s calamities. Fortunately, there were no emergencies, so he drove over to the Jacksons’ house in North Port St. Joe, where he found Django sitting in his front porch swing in denim trousers and a blue work shirt buttoned tight around his neck. He jumped out of the swing and was off the porch before the doctor stopped his car.

“Top of the mornin’ to you,” he said.

“Good morning, Mr. Jackson. How are you today?”

“Ain’t complainin’. Call me Django.”

“Okay,” the doctor said as the man eased in beside him. “Y’all party late last night?”

“Oh, yeah, the young-uns danced the night away. But me and Mama went to bed right after y’all left. You told me to git plenty of rest.”

“That I did,” the doctor said.

They headed out Constitution Drive east toward Apalachicola on Highway 98. It was already hot, but as the old Ford picked up speed, the wind through the open windows kept the pair fairly comfortable. When they were well out of town, Django coughed and looked at the doctor. “So,” he said, “let’s see if we can narrow down where your friend Gator might be. As I said, Tate’s Hell ain’t nothin’ but a big ol’ piece of wilderness out in the middle of nowhere. Did he give you any clues about where in Tate’s Hell he might be headin’?”

“No, not really. He just said Tate’s Hell.”

“How was he traveling?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, was he drivin’ a car or what?”

“No,” the doctor said, “he was going by boat. He left St. Vincent Island in a little boat, what he called a glade skiff, and it had just this tiny one-and-a-half-horsepower engine.”

“Really? Okay, that’s a start. Let’s take him at his word then and assume he really was goin’ to Tate’s Hell and that he would of entered by water, and let’s also assume that he would want to get out of the open ocean, where he could be easily spotted, as soon as he could. The first place he could get to Tate’s Hell by water would be at East Bay this side of Eastpoint. Once inside of East Bay, he could either go west into West Bayou toward Creels or he could go east up East Bayou to Cash Creek toward High Bluff, which would be more in the direction of Tate’s Hell and further from civilization. So let’s just keep assumin’ here and assume, since he said as much, that he’d go toward Tate’s Hell.”

“But how do we get there without a boat?” the doctor asked.

“Well, there’s some roads that cross Cash Creek, so I guess we oughta drive down ’em and see if we can see anything. It’s a startin’ point anyway.”

“Okay,” the doctor said. “Just tell me where to go.”

The drive from Port St. Joe to Apalachicola and then across the John Gorrie Bridge into Eastpoint is referred to as the Florida West Coast Scenic Highway for good reason.

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