Part 18 (2/2)

Peter looked up. He showed no surprise at seeing Johnny there. His eyes were clouded and they seemed far away. Suddenly they seemed to clear. ”Johnny!” he said, motioning to the top of his head.

Johnny didn't understand him. ”I've got to talk to you,” he whispered back at Peter.

Several of the other men in the synagogue looked at Johnny; they seemed annoyed at the disturbance he was creating.

Peter picked something up from the seat next to him and held it out toward Johnny. It was a little black skull cap. He motioned to Johnny to put it on his head. ”Your head is uncovered,” he whispered.

Johnny took the skull cap and put it on. ”Come on out,” he said, ”I got to talk to you.”

Peter followed him to the rear of the synagogue. ”What is it?” he asked.

”I've been trying to find you all day,” Johnny said. ”Why didn't you leave word where you were going to be?”

”Since when does a man have to make an announcement when he goes to shool? I don't ask when you go to church.” Peter was aggrieved.

Johnny was exasperated. ”I didn't ask you why you went, I only asked you why you didn't tell us. We're in a jam. We got to get out of town tonight.”

”Tonight?” Peter shouted. The sound of his voice startled him; he looked around guiltily. ”Tonight?” he repeated, this time whispering.

”Yes,” Johnny answered. ”The combine's got a judgment against you, and if they serve it, we're finished.”

”My G.o.d!” Peter said, his voice rising again. ”I got to tell Esther!”

”No you don't,” Johnny told him, ”I spoke to her before. She'll be at the train with the kids.”

Peter looked at him. ”And the equipment?”

”s.h.i.+pped already. It left at two o'clock this afternoon.”

”Then let's go back to the office,” Peter said; ”I got a few things to pick up.” He started out into the street.

Johnny caught up with him. ”You can't go up there. They probably are waiting for you with a summons!”

Peter was stubborn. ”I got to go back. The shooting script is in my desk.”

”To h.e.l.l with it!” Johnny said. ”We're going to the train!”

Esther was the first to see them coming as they walked to the gate. ”Peter!” she cried. She ran forward and threw her arms around him. She was crying.

He spoke in Yiddish. His voice was brusque, but tender all at once. ”What are you crying about?”

Johnny turned to Joe, who was grinning at him. ”Is everybody here?” he asked.

”Everybody except Craig,” Joe answered, still grinning.

Johnny looked around him. ”I wonder what's holding him up.”

”Johnny,” a voice called.

Johnny looked up. Sam Sharpe was running toward him. Jane hurried behind him. He stopped in front of Johnny, gasping for breath; his usually ruddy face was pale.

”Where's Craig?” Johnny asked.

”He's not coming,” Sharpe gasped. ”Johnny, he told the combine about your plans, that's why they jumped on you.”

”The son of a b.i.t.c.h!” Johnny burst out bitterly. A thought struck him. There was still time for the combine to get them here. ”Where is he now?” he asked.

”In my office,” Sharpe answered.

Johnny stared at him wildly. ”He can still let them know of the change in plans. We got to get him!” He started off the platform.

Sharpe grabbed his arm. ”Wait a minute, Johnny. He can't tell them.”

”What do you mean?”

”When he told me what he did, I got so mad I knocked him down.”

Johnny looked at the little man unbelievingly. Craig was almost twice Sharpe's size.

”I did, Johnny,” Sharpe insisted. ”That is-uh, I pushed him and Jane held her foot behind him and he tripped. And then we tied him up.”

”With a clothesline,” Jane added.

Johnny began to laugh. It must have been funny to watch. The little man and a girl tying up that overblown matinee idol.

Sharpe looked at him seriously. ”Johnny, do you think we can go along with you? When he gets loose, it will be very embarra.s.sing.”

”Sure,” Johnny gasped between bursts of laughter, ”come along, we might need a couple of bodyguards out there.”

The countryside was dark as the train sped through the night. Johnny, looking out of the window, could only see his reflection in the gla.s.s. Doris leaned against him sleepily. It was after nine o'clock.

Doris s.h.i.+fted against him. He turned to her and put his arm around her shoulders. ”Tired, sweetheart?”

”No,” she answered, her voice full of sleep.

He smiled at her. ”Maybe you'll be more comfortable with your head in my lap.”

She turned on the seat and stretched out. Her eyes closed almost as soon as her head touched his lap. Her lips moved.

Johnny leaned over her. ”What did you say, sweetheart?”

”You'll like California, Uncle Johnny,” she whispered. ”It's very beautiful.”

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