Nobody

No Scent of Perfume

I yawned as Bo Brubaker turned off the cracked and patched paved road and onto the dirt road that led into woods. I was feeling the burn from being up for so long and I scrubbed my face with my hands to push back the tiredness.

"You all right, Tex?" he asked me.

"Yeah, Bo, I'm all right. Just tired," I told him. "Been driving at night, sleeping during the day."

He nodded at that, spitting tobacco juice out the window. "Easier to drive them Interstates at night. Less traffic, less cops."

I nodded at that. He dropped the little car into first gear as we bounced down the dirt road.

"Trailer sits on twenty acres of woods. Don't cut no trees down that the forest service says you can't. Don't do no fires till fall. Ain't no power, but if ya want, I got an extra generator you can borrow till the power guys get out here," Bo told me, spitting tobacco.

"Maybe tomorrow," I told him, yawning again. "Getting old. Used to be able to stay up two, three days straight."

He nodded sagely and took us around a corner. "Creek at the back, gets some fish. You can fish on your own property. Might spot a bear, but there ain't no wolves or mountain lions round these parts no more."

He turned a tight corner and I saw the trailer.

Part of me, the John Bomber of the Texas Bombers, recoiled at the sight. A double-wide trailer from the 1960's or 70's. Moss streaked the sides, at least two of the windows were broken out, rust on it. Stairs and porch looked rotted out, some curtains missing. There was a frayed tarp barely connected to it, obviously it had been intended on keeping the roof from leaking, another thing that made John cringe.

Sam English just took it all in, including the fact it was at least two acres through the woods and a curving driveway to reach the trailer. It was invisible from the road, surrounded by trees, and looked, well, it looked...

...alone.

"Ya got three bedrooms, don't know where all it leaks, Tex," Bo told me, shutting off the car.

"It's all right," I said. "I'll live."

"You were in the Army, probably don't bother you none, does it?" He got out and spit tobacco.

I shook my head. "Nope. If'n it's too bad, I'll just sleep outside."

Bo followed me as I walked around the trailer. Out back there was two wooden sheds. A quick peek inside showed one had firewood stacked inside of it, the other one had benches to be used as a tool shed/workshop, but mostly had trash inside of it. There was a broken down car, quietly rusting away, and past my abilities to restore. There was an old pump handle, and I looked at for a long moment.

"Pump house?" I asked him.

Bo nodded and we walked a little ways into the tree line, where there was a small wooden box. The lid was off center and I could see dried leaves inside the box. I lifted it up and jumped back when a squirrel jumped out and ran off. It stopped on an old stump and chattered at me.

"He's a mite bit upset we interrupted his nap," I chuckled. "Shoulda kicked it first."

"Yup, yer country," Bo said, spitting tobacco juice at the squirrel. It chattered squirrel curses and him and ran up a tree. "He didn't bother you none. City boy woulda freaked out."

"Aw, he don't mean no harm," I said. I peered into the leaves. No little squirrel babies. "Gonna clean this out."

Bo stood there with his hands in his pockets, silent, while I scooped the nest out of the pump and checked it. Wires looked intact, no leaking, it would probably work just fine once the power was turned on. I stood up, put the lid back on tight, and brushed my hands off on my pants. I lit a cigarette as we walked back to the trailer.