The '49 Indian by Craig Moody

Author:Craig Moody
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Vivid Imagery Publishing
Published: 2017-02-28T22:00:00+00:00

***

Two weeks later, we were in New Mexico, just outside the small town of Cuervo. The hospital had only kept Gauge long enough to perform the x-rays, set and cast his broken bones, and complete the endless task of cleaning and bandaging the areas Dr. Marks had missed. Once complete, we were asked to leave, our lack of insurance or upfront payment a leading concern for the hospital.

Between the generosity of Mr. Higgins and Dr. Marks, the entire visit was paid for, though only the bare minimum was approved, as we were back out on the street in less than three hours.

Mr. Higgins brought us home, where I packed and situated our entire lives into the old Chevy pickup. Mr. Higgins handed me a small white envelope with four hundred dollars cash, along with a handwritten note stating that he authorized me to take the vehicle. I wasn’t sure if it was legal or not, but I was grateful for the gesture.

Gauge slept for most of the first day of driving. The hospital allowed him a few days’ worth of painkillers, so I dispersed them to him sparingly. Both hands obtained severe fractures, perhaps nerve damage, along with a broken elbow and two bruised ribs. He looked so meek and helpless beneath the mass of plaster casts and gauze. It was obvious that he was not going to be able to work once we reached California, but I promised myself that I wouldn’t dwell on the dire circumstances until we arrived there. For now, I simply enjoyed the scenic trek across the country, taking in highways over landscapes I had only seen on television or in pictures. The desert was breathtaking and so alien to me. Having only known South Florida all my life, anything other than palm trees, golf courses, and mosquito- infested swamps was exotic.

Along the way, we slept in the truck, the two of us crammed inside the tiny cabin like opossums in a den. I always made sure that the thickest and best blanket was wrapped tightly around Gauge, leaving myself with a collection of T-shirts and motel towels for covering.

The desert was cold at night, something I was unaware of. Several times, I found myself waking to the rattling vibration of my teeth as they clattered inside my skull. I would press my body into Gauge’s, who seemed to always sleep soundly, ensuring that he was warm until the dawn.

After two and a half days on the road, we reached New Mexico, our journey’s end. The Chevy provided its share of fits and trouble along the way, but we were always able to keep moving. Less than one hundred miles beyond the state line, the beat-up truck sputtered its dissatisfaction with its labor for the very last time. Miraculously, the final acceleration rolled us off the highway and into a gas station parking lot. Next to it, a cheap roadside motel.

The Desert Star was no fancier than the dump we had just left behind, but it certainly provided a much warmer and secure night than the truck cabin.

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