The Short Stories

THE ACCIDENT

It was the summer of ’55. My father gave up the good pay and security of a civil service job at the Air Force Base near Victorville, California, and moved the family to Tehachapi. He landed a job as a cattle foreman on a ranch about ten miles from town, out near Cummings valley. The pay was low, and the hours were long, but he was on a horse, and that’s what made him happy.

I was just a few months shy of seventeen that summer, and, like my father, all I wanted to do was spend my days on a horse. I found a job riding for the Crofton outfit, a big ranch at the foot of Bear Mountain. Their headquarters were just off the highway going to Bakersfield, near the small village of Keane. 

I worked there all summer, and I had never been happier. They paid me 150 dollars a month, but I would’ve done it for nothing. I was in love with the idea of being a cowboy, the cowboy paraphernalia: the hat, the boots, the spurs, the chaps, the saddle, the ropes, and, of course, the horses and the cows. I liked the smells: the smell of a sweaty horse, the smell of hay, and even the smell of barnyard manure.

When summer ended, and it was time for me to go back to school, I told my father I wasn’t going. We argued, but I was adamant. I told him I’d found what I wanted to do, and school didn’t play any part in it. Even my boss told me I ought to go back to school, but I thought, hell, this is the smartest thing I’ve ever done. Finally, my father said, “OK, Melvin, go ahead and be a damn fool!”

Melvin, that’s my name. I hate it. Everyone calls me Mel, except my father. Even my mother calls me Mel unless she’s mad at me.

When the weather turned cold, and grass was in short supply, I was assigned the job of feeding cattle. Every day I made about a fifteen-mile circle of various pastures, putting out just enough hay and cottonseed meal to get the cattle through the winter.

I was making my round one morning in late November, riding on the old road over the Tehachapi Pass. It’s the same road the Joad family of Grapes Of Wrath took to the San Joaquin Valley. Now the road wasn’t much more than a trail. It was maybe nine in the morning; the sun was bright, but the air was cold. Frost still covered the ground. 

I came to a bend in the road where I always stopped to smoke and take in the view: the rolling hills all the way to San Joaquin, and the dropping canyon all the way to Caliente.

As I sat there on my horse, smoking, I heard the sound of ripping metal and tearing brush. Then I saw it through the dust. A car had gone off the new highway a short distance below me and rolled down the canyon.

I tied my horse to a bush and bounced and slid to the highway below, my chaps flapping and sparks flying as my spurs hit the rocks. When I reached the road, I saw what had happened—the car skidded out of control on the icy blacktop.

I crossed the highway and looked over the edge. I saw four or five bodies scattered over the mountainside.

I knew I had to get help, so I waited for the first car that passed, flagged them down, and had them call an ambulance from the station two miles up the road.

Then I slipped and stumbled to the bodies below, checking to see who was still alive: two young boys crying in pain, an elderly woman still breathing, a teenage girl moaning, a middle-age man lifeless, and the bloody body of another woman in the battered car, wrapped around a tree.

I went to the teenage girl, who was in danger of rolling down the mountain. Her dress was up around her waist, exposing her legs and panties. There was a deep, ugly cut on her thigh, up near her groin, and she was covered with dirt. Her hair was matted with dirt and leaves and small pieces of brush. Her right arm covered her face. I pulled her dress down over her thighs and kept telling her she would be OK as we waited for the ambulance.

When the ambulance finally arrived, I helped carry the injured and the dead up the mountainside. Then I climbed back up to my horse and finished feeding the cattle. It was way after dark when I got back to the ranch.

The images of that wreck haunted me for weeks. I replayed the scene over and over—all those bodies lying helter-skelter on that mountainside. And the dead—I had never seen a dead person before, not even at a funeral. I woke up some nights in a cold sweat, then couldn’t get back to sleep. I just lay there replaying that wreck. And every time I rode by the site of the wreck, I could see the hulk of that old car wrapped around that tree. As far as I know, it’s still there.

But other things were happening in my life at that time—like learning how to drink and have sex. And ranch hands Fred and Pete were my teachers. 

Fred was in his late thirties. He’d been married once and had a kid somewhere, but I don’t think he knew where. Fred was a good cowboy, and he was especially good at roping. I learned a lot from him. The only thing, Fred liked his booze a little too much.

Pete was around twenty-five, a good-looking guy who thought of himself as a lover, but I never saw him demonstrate any of his talents. Pete was a good worker, but I think I was the better cowboy.

Fred and Pete took me under their wing, so to speak. They were going to show me how to be a man. And their idea of being a man was every payday buying a fifth of Four Roses and going to the whorehouse. And that’s what we did. Every payday we’d pile into Fred’s ’39 Dodge pickup, stop by the liquor store in Keane, pick up a bottle, and head for the White Castle.

The White Castle was a whorehouse in the desert, a few miles out of Mojave. It was built to look like a medieval castle by an eccentric millionaire from L.A. But there was one big problem: He couldn’t sink a well deep enough to find water. So he abandoned the place. 

Then someone got the idea to haul water out there and make a whorehouse out of it. And a fine whorehouse it was—a large reception room with a fireplace big enough to roast a side of beef, lots of bedrooms, and enough scantily dressed whores to satisfy just about any man’s taste.

I got my first piece of ass at the White Castle, and I immediately fell in love. Her name was Terri. Probably not her real name, but that didn’t occur to me then. Terri was a redhead with freckles, and I thought she was beautiful. I couldn’t wait for payday on Saturday to roll around. If Terri was with someone else when I got there, I would wait for her. 

Fred and Pete kept telling me to try some of the other ladies. Variety is the spice of life, they would say. But Terri was the only one for me. Terri took a liking to me, too. I think she liked playing the role of teacher; she taught me just about everything I know about sex.

We talked a lot, too. She always gave me extra time, especially if it was a slow night. She told me she had a five-year-old daughter in L.A. and that she only worked at the Castle three days a week: Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Her mother took care of her daughter when she was working. 

I told her all about my life, too—how I had quit school to work on the ranch. I told her about the accident and how shook-up I was. Terri told me that dropping out of school for a year was not a bad thing, but if I didn’t get back in school the next year, I’d be making a big mistake. She said, “You better get your skinny little ass back in school, or you’re going to end up like your two buddies out there.” 

I told her I didn’t see anything wrong with Fred and Pete, and she said, “Oh, bullshit, you know what I mean. They’re stuck where they are. They’ll never go anywhere.”

One freezing cold night in February, we bought our usual bottle of Four Roses and headed for the Castle. When we got there, we knew something was wrong when we didn’t see any lights; it was deserted. The sheriff had raided the place, closed it down. 

All we did that night was sit in the pickup and get drunk. We watched cars drive up, turn around and take off. Fred and Pete made fun of me because I was so sad over never seeing Terri again. They said, “Hey, she’s only a whore, for Christ’s sake.” I decided right then I didn’t want to be like Fred and Pete.

On Saturday night, Fred and Pete took off for the whorehouses in Bakersfield. They told me how great they were and tried to get me to go with them, but I wasn’t interested.

For the next five months or so, I didn’t go anywhere except an occasional trip to Cummings Valley to visit my parents.

By the time September rolled around, I had about 500 dollars saved up. I bought a black ’41 Ford coupe for 150 bucks, quit my job at the ranch, moved in with my parents, and went back to school. My father said, “Well, Melvin, you’re finally getting some sense into your head.” 

Going back to school wasn’t easy. I made it even harder by taking all the subjects I had avoided in the past. I signed up for second-year algebra, physics, chemistry, English, and world history. With my academic background, it would’ve made more sense to sign up for woodshop and animal husbandry. And it turned out, I bit off more than I could chew. After the first month, I dropped chemistry and took music appreciation.

At school, I was pretty much a loner. I didn’t get involved in any school activities. The few friends I made, like Wayne and Morris, were themselves social outcasts. Wayne was a tall, gawky kid who always wore dirty Levi’s, a scruffy brown leather jacket, and clunky engineer’s boots. I dressed about the same, only I always wore cowboy boots. Morris was a short chunky kid who hated school. He couldn’t wait to graduate and go to work at the local cement plant, just like his father. Morris liked to wear an old black and red mackintosh.

Wayne was something of a mystery. He was one of the smartest kids in school, but you would never know it. He didn’t do anything except get drunk and smoke cigarettes. Wayne was in my physics class; he was a whiz and did the work without ever taking a book home. If it hadn’t been for Wayne, I don’t think I’d have made it through that physics class.

On Friday and Saturday nights, I would pick up Wayne and Morris in my Ford, and we’d get a bottle and drive around, listening to the radio and nipping from the bottle. Wayne and Morris did a lot of complaining that there was nothing to do. I was doing pretty much what I wanted to do—driving around and getting drunk.

Word got around that the White Castle was open again. So on a Friday night, I told the guys we had something special to do, and we headed for the Castle. I was hoping I’d find Terri there.

There were all new girls at the White Castle. I asked about Terri. They had never heard of her. Wayne and Morris borrowed money from me to get a piece of ass. They wouldn’t admit it, but I think it was their first. They couldn’t understand why I didn’t get some too.

They wanted to go to the Castle every week, and I took them back several times because I was hoping Terri would show up. When I realized Terri was history, I told the guys they’d have to find their own way to the Castle. They called me a chicken-shit, and things were a little cool between us for a while.

But something happened right about then which would make a big change in my social life. A girl who sat across from me in music appreciation class started paying attention to me. I noticed she was looking at me a lot. I tried not to let her know that I saw, but once in a while, our eyes would meet, and she would smile. I would smile back. I didn’t think too much about it; I figured she was an indiscriminate flirt.

It was a small class, not more than twenty students, so we all knew one another’s names. Her name was Carmen. One day just before class started, she looked at me, and I looked back at her, and she said, “Mel, who’s your favorite composer?”

I was sort of taken aback. Not by the question, but from the fact that she asked it. I pretended to give the matter some thought, then I said, “Hank Williams.”

She threw her head back and cackled. Everyone in the class turned and looked, including the teacher. I figured she was making fun of me, and I thought, to hell with her.

When class ended, she came up to me and said, “I like Hank Williams, too. I wasn’t laughing at you. It’s just your answer took me by surprise.”

“Yeah,” I said, “I guess I did come off kinda funny… coming up with Hank Williams after we’ve been listening to all that Beethoven, Bach, and stuff.”

We walked on down the hall until she went left and I went right. As I started to go my way, she said, “Oh, Mel, I’m having a party at my house Saturday night. Would you like to come?”

I  just stood there with what was no doubt a dumb look on my face. Then the bell rang, and she said, “You can let me know tomorrow.” 

I watched her walk down the hall. It was like her fanny was waving at me. I thought, is she interested in me, or is she just being nice?”

Carmen was an unusually attractive girl. She was tall and slender, and her body curved in all the right places. With long brownish-red hair (auburn, I guess), she had green eyes and the smoothest white skin with no pimples. She had a prominent nose, but it fit real good on her face. I went to the party. 

I wasn’t sure what to wear. My wardrobe consisted mostly of Levi’s, so I borrowed a pair of my father’s gabardine slacks—they fit perfectly. I wore my dress Tony Lama boots, a suede leather jacket, and my brown cowboy hat. I thought I looked pretty sharp.

On the way to the party, I shored up my courage with a couple of hits from a half-pint of bourbon. When I got there, Carmen opened the door. With a big smile on her face, she said, “Mel, you look great!” Talk about looking great, she was wearing this knock-out green dress that really made her shine. And I told her so.

She brought me in, put my hat away, showed me where the refreshments were, and told me to have fun. Then she went to dance with one of the guys. I had a half-pint in my back pocket, so I mixed a little bourbon with my Coke. Then I made myself inconspicuous and watched the show. 

They were dancing to rock and roll—Elvis, Bill Haley and the Comets, with a few slow ones mixed in by the Ink Spots and Frankie Lane. Elvis’ “Blue Suede Shoes” was big that night. I noticed a couple of guys wearing blue suede shoes. I could see they thought they really looked sharp.

Several guys were taking turns dancing with Carmen, including the two wearing the blue suede shoes. She was a good dancer, and she was also something of a show-off and a flirt. She kept looking in my direction. After a while, she came over to me and said, “Mel, why aren’t you dancing?”

I said, “I don’t know how.”

“Well, I’m going to teach you how. Wait right here.” She went to the phonograph, dug through the records, put one on, and said, “Now, come on, Mel, let me show you how easy it is.” 

Carmen put on “Your Cheatin’ Heart” by Hank Williams. She pulled me onto the floor, moved up close to me, and said, “Just stand here and hold me and sway back and forth and keep time to the music.” And we did, and I was aware of her whole body pressed against mine. Then she told me to take a step back, then another, then a step forward.  It went like that until the record was finished. I didn’t like the dancing part so much, but I was ready to put up with anything to keep holding her close.

She danced the rock and roll stuff with the other guys, but when a slow song came on, she pulled me back onto the floor for more lessons. And that’s how I spent the evening until my half a pint of bourbon was gone and people began to leave.

When I was ready to leave, Carmen got my hat and followed me out onto the front porch. She stood with her body close to mine, and it seemed only natural for me to put my arms around her, which I did. Then we kissed. She startled me with the passion she put into that kiss. With her lips close to my ear, she said, “I like you, Mel.”

And I said, “I like you, too—a lot.”

I drove home in a daze. I was in love. I could hardly wait to get to school on Monday so I could see her again.

Carmen seemed as glad to see me as I was her. We only had one class together, but we made a point to see each other between classes and eat lunch together in the cafeteria. After school, I drove her around in my Ford before dropping her off at her house, where she gave me a quick little kiss.

Right away, we had a routine going. We both felt comfortable being with each other. We didn’t have to talk a lot, just being together was enough. I asked her to go out on Saturday night, and she didn’t hesitate to say yes.

We went to a movie, and after the movie, I mixed some bourbon with our Cokes. We drove around for a while, listening to music and sipping our drinks. Then I parked, and we did some necking, but I didn’t get aggressive. For one thing, I wasn’t too sure of myself, and for another, I didn’t want to spoil things.

Wayne and Morris couldn’t believe what was happening. They wanted to know how I managed to be going steady with one of the prettiest girls in school. I told them I didn’t understand it, either.

A couple of the hotshot guys who had their sights set on Carmen couldn’t figure out how they had been aced-out by me, a guy who came from out of nowhere. To this day, I’m still not sure why Carmen was attracted to me. I do know I felt lucky to have a girl like Carmen—she was so pretty and fun to be with.

We went to all the school dances, and with Carmen as my teacher, I was becoming a pretty smooth dancer. We were invited to all the parties. I never thought it would happen, but Carmen was turning me into one of the school’s socialites.

We did a lot of necking and petting, but I didn’t push it to the limit. In my thinking, girls fell into three categories: good girls, good whores like Terri, and tramps. Carmen was not only a good girl; I had placed her on a pedestal.

But one evening in early February, we had been to a party where we drank a little more than usual. When we left the party, we drove up the old Quarry Road and parked. There was a full moon that night, and the light was so bright you could read by it.

We started kissing, and I was feeling Carmen’s breasts through her blouse. Then she unbuttoned the top buttons and put my hand inside. We were both breathing hard, moaning. Our hormones and the liquor were taking charge. I put my hand under her bra and forced it up and over her breast. 

When I ran my hand over her exposed nipple, Carmen gasped. I leaned my head down (or it was like Carmen pushed my head down), and I took her nipple in my mouth. We were both on fire. Carmen was holding my head with her hands, running her fingers through my hair, and making low groaning sounds. I raised my head, and we kissed, and as we kissed, I ran my hand under Carmen’s skirt, all the way to her panties. Carmen groaned, scooted down in the car seat, and opened her legs. I rubbed the outside of her sopping-wet panties. Carmen pulled away from our kiss, and in a voice of desperation, said, “Yes, Mel, yes!”

Her skirt was up around her hips, and with Carmen’s fingers in my hair, I started to lower my head to her thighs. Carmen’s white legs were glowing, almost phosphorescent, in the bright moonlight. Then I saw the red, jagged scar running across her thigh, up near her crotch. I stopped. Immediately Carmen knew something was wrong. “Mel, what is it?” 

I sat up in my seat and said, “Carmen, how did you get that scar?” I knew what the answer would be.

Carmen straightened her skirt and slipped her bra back over her breasts, and as she buttoned her blouse, she began to tell me about the accident.

“We were coming up from Bakersfield that morning,” she said, “my uncle and aunt, my grandmother, my two brothers, and I. My uncle lost control of the car, and we skidded off the highway, down the mountainside. I couldn’t remember anything that happened after that until I woke up in the hospital.

“Uncle and grandmother were killed, and my aunt died later in the hospital. My brothers had broken bones, and I had three broken ribs and this cut on my thigh.

“They told me at the hospital that we might have all died if it wasn’t for a cowboy who happened along when the accident happened. He got the ambulance there quickly. They said if it hadn’t been for him, I might have rolled down the mountain, and one of my broken ribs could’ve punctured my lung.”

When she finished telling her story, I lit a cigarette, and we both took a drag. I said, “Carmen, guess what. I was that cowboy.”

She looked at me with a puzzled look on her face and then said, “God, Mel, I can’t believe it. What an incredible coincidence! You may have saved my life.”

We spent the rest of the evening talking about coincidence and how we hadn’t  mentioned the accident before. Carmen said she didn’t want to remember it, let alone talk about it. I told her it took me a long time to get over it, so no way did I want to bring it up again.

When I dropped Carmen off at her house, she gave me a quick peck, and she was gone, almost like she was in a hurry to get away.

On the way home, I thought about fate and destiny and how the accident would bring us closer together. 

When I saw her at school on Monday, I felt something was bothering her. She was friendly enough, but she seemed distant, somehow, preoccupied. At first, I didn’t say anything. I thought it was just some temporary mood she was in. But after several days of this strange behavior, I said, “Carmen, what in the hell is wrong with you? You’re acting like you don’t want to be around me anymore.”

I could see she didn’t know what to say, or if she did, she didn’t know how to say it. Finally, she said, “Look, Mel, I don’t know… I got a lot of things going on in my head that I’m not sure of…”

“It’s about the other night, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” she said, “maybe that’s got something to do with it.”

“I went too far, didn’t I?”

“No, that’s not it. Like I said, Mel, I don’t understand how I feel.”

“What are we going to do then?”

I watched her, head down, thinking, then she said, without looking at me, “Maybe it would be better if we don’t see as much of one another for a while.”

And just like that, Carmen and I were no longer going together. We were friendly, we said hi to one another, and I kept looking for some sign she wanted to get back together again, but that never happened.

At school, I kept up a good front, like none of it bothered me, but I was devastated. I didn’t understand what had happened.

So I was back with my two buddies Wayne and Morris. They were happy about that. They had missed cruising around with me on Saturday night and getting high on cheap bourbon. The first thing they wanted to do was go to the White Castle. They heard there were a bunch of new girls there. I said I wasn’t interested. I still had Carmen on my mind. I hadn’t given up on the chance we might get back together.

But then someone told me that they had seen Carmen down in Mojave holding hands with an airman from Edwards Air Force Base. Someone else said they’d seen them in the Frontier Cafe, and it looked like they were having a lot of fun. So the next weekend, when Wayne and Morris hit me up to go to the White Castle, I said, “Shit, yes, let’s go.”

A big homey fire was burning in the fireplace, and several ladies were sitting around on the sofas in the big reception room. It was early, and business was still slow, only a couple of other guys were there.

Wayne and Morris didn’t waste any time; they headed straight for the ladies. I got a Coke and a glass from the bar, sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs, and mixed myself a drink from the half-pint I had in my back pocket. I watched Wayne and Morris go up the stairs with a couple of the ladies.

I was sitting there, sipping my drink, staring into the leaping flames in the fireplace, and thinking things over when I heard someone say, “Mel, it’s you!” I looked around, and Terri was standing there with a big smile on her face.

I leaped out of my  chair and gave her a big hug and said, “Terri, I never expected you to ever come back here.”

Terri said, “Yeah, well, a girl’s got to make a living, you know.”

I took Terri by the arm and said, “Come on, Terri, let’s go upstairs.”

Terri said, “I thought you would never ask.”

Up in her room, Terri said, “Come on, Mel, get your clothes off and let’s do it, then we can talk a little after. It’s kind of slow tonight, so nobody will be on my ass.”

Terri didn’t have to tell me twice. It had been so long, I almost forgot what it was like to go all the way with a woman. But Terri did an excellent job of reminding me what  I had been missing.

Afterward, Terri mixed us a drink from my half-pint, and we sat up in bed, sipping our drinks. I asked Terri, “What were you doing all the time you were gone from the Castle?”

“I tried going straight,” Terri said. “Can you believe it? I was doing temporary office work. I hated it. And the pay was lousy; I had to dip into my savings to make a go of it. The only good thing was I didn’t have to be away from my daughter. But enough about me. I want to hear about you, Mel. You still a cowboy?”

“Well, I’m still a cowboy, but I’m not working for the ranch anymore. I took your advice and went back to school.”

“Mel, that’s great.”

“Yeah,” I said, “I’m going to graduate in June.”

“And then what are you going to do?”

“I’ve been thinking about going to college.”

“Good for you, Mel. I can’t see you spending your life looking at a cow’s ass.”

I said, “Terri, I’d like your opinion about something.”

“Sure, Mel, what is it?”

“Well,” I said, “I had this girlfriend at school, and something happened that I don’t really understand.” Then I told Terri the whole story about Carmen and me and about her now going out with that airman.

When I finished, Terri said, “Oh, Mel, you poor guy.”

“Yeah, poor guy is right,” I said. “But what do you think happened? Why in the hell did Carmen drop me like she did?

“Well, I’ll tell you one thing that happened, Mel.”

“What’s that?”

“The hero doesn’t always get the girl.”

“But I’m no hero. I just happened to be there.”

“All heroes just happen to be there,” Terri said.

“Maybe so,” I said, “but that doesn’t tell me much.”

“OK, look,” Terri said, “the way you tell it, she wanted to forget all about that accident, and here you turned out to be a living reminder of it. She couldn’t handle that.”

I took a big sip of my drink, waiting for Terri to tell me more, but just then there was a knock at the door, and a woman’s voice said, “Terri?”

Terri went to the door; there was whispering. She closed the door and said, “Mel, I have to go now. Floyd’s here. He’s a big spender, and we have to keep him happy. I’ll tell you what, can you come back tomorrow, early? I’ll give you one on me, a freebie, and we’ll talk about you and Carmen. Maybe I can throw a little more light on the subject.”

We were hurriedly dressing, and Terri said, “But I can tell you one thing for sure right now, Mel, it all happened for the best. The way I see it, that girl did you a favor by dropping you. Honey, consider yourself lucky.”

When we went downstairs, Wayne and Morris were waiting for me. When we got outside, Morris said, “Boy, it sure takes you a long time.”

“Yeah,” Wayne said, “what were you doing up there anyway. I want to hear all about it.”

Of course, I never told them. And I didn’t tell them about my Sunday date with Terri, either.