The Buick: Section Eight

Babette still complained about the cabins, 

And Constance had to yell hourly at Fred

To shut the door and keep the cold air out,

Each time he snuck out for a cigarette,

But Johnny could take his breaths easily,

Felt rested, ready for another day.

He would have loved a stop in the Black Hills

Or a sudden visit to Mount Rushmore,

But Fred argued the rush was for Billings,

Where they would finally put down their roots.

So the Buick stopped around Sturgis,

Where Johnny got a genuine Cowboy hat,

Constance a set of leather moccasins,

And Babette some rhinestone boots that made Fred

Whistle once again.

                             "This stop may be it,

"Until we're in Billings; Three hundred miles

Of nothing and even less on these roads."

With nothing but the endless flatness of

Eastern Montana landscape before him,

Johnny determined he would find his voice.

"Is it your hope Daddy never finds us

In the remoteness of this Montana?"

In the absence of a clear signal from

WCAT out of Rapid City,

Silence broken only by the static,

Johnny waited for someone to answer,

His mother eventually with "yes."

"He wouldn't be the only one, Johnny,"

His grandmother said, smirking at his side.

"Now, Mother, shush. We know this rural life

Will make it better for Johnny's breathing,

And let him now have a normal childhood."

Johnny smiled, knowing it was expected,

Not ready to pull his doubts from his depths.

Past Hammond, the snow lightened a little,

The road was unpaved, more fitting for a

Horse and Buggy than an automobile

"At least Montana State Route Eight," Fred joked,

"Takes us through some of the best-named towns.

Lame Deer was merely a bump in the road,

I wonder what Crow Agency provides?"

Eventually the Buick stopped

At the Northern Hotel, quite a landmark,

If you believed the Billings marketing.

Yo-yo in his left, Johnny felt his right

Pulled tight by his mother following Fred

Into the vast Northern Hotel lobby.

"Let's sit over there," his mother pointed

To a couch and a chair, "while Fred gets us

Set up here."

                    They watched a portly man

Direct Fred to the lobby's piano,

A baby grand in stunning ivory.

Suddenly the room was full of music

Bringing all strangers to a complete pause.

He watched his mother's face become a lit,

Remembering he rarely saw her beam

As she beamed now in this western town,

And weighing where they were and where they'd been,

Johnny was determined to settle in

To whatever life this transition brought.

The fat man ended up shaking Fred's hand

And directed his staff to find them rooms,

As it seemed Billings would be his new home.

Johnny envisioned new friends, a new school,

But he was ahead of himself, or more

Accurately ahead of Fred's fixed debt,

In a fortnight, even before his name

Could be recalled by classmates or teachers,

Johnny saw the Buick outside the doors

Packed to the gills yet another time,

Fred telling him Great Falls now awaited,

A destination farther north and west.

"How much more distance do they think we need?"

Johnny wondered from the back of the car

As it plowed again through snowy back roads.

It'd be awhile before he understood

That they ran from more than Jack Wilkinson.

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