Joe Burke's Last Stand

low." Joe Burke was singing, driving south. His rig was a blue Ford pickup with a bat

stood near a pond. A monk was raking leaves from a path that curved around the pond like a trotter's track. Joe got out, s

" She smiled slightly and remain

isn'

limbing into the truck and closing the door. "We must continue to seek t

esonant voices and a single guitar, encouraging. "Sappy," Ingrid had declared impatien

he bartender talk on the telephone, her elbows and breasts on the bar, a vertical worry line dropping between her eyes. She was about his daughter Kate's age. The room began to fill, the nasal sound of New York mixing with flat New England tones. The Con

the red and gold ridges, small fields tilting greenly in the

another ale, making friends with her and starting a new life in Brattleboro or over the mountain in Bennin

At the edge of town, trees were dark behind a body of water that was platinum and still. Fish broke the surface with soft sla

Captain Ben had retired during the depression to that rocky hillside and made a homely paradise of gardens and fruit trees. A slow silent job. Emily was beside him, canning, cooking, and mothering. They said you couldn't grow pears around there. We

ave an obligation. He had a company garden when he was serving in the Philippines-men who got out of line did time weeding and afterwards ate fresh vegetables. Once a year he would go to town and whip the

rried about the time Joe graduated. The new husband moved Lee's Lieutenants to the attic and Joe moved out. The house that Joe remembered had disappeare

ls and parked by a narrow lane across from the one room schoolhouse where he had gone to fifth grade. He fell asleep in a cradle of memories: fuck

up. He drove over to Morgan's house and pounded on the do

What brings you

on! They say you'

right. Co

you met those guys heading for Georgia because they

was grayer but still powerf

d I split up. I put a bed in the back of the tru

leave? You w

d it with computer programming. Jamming all that stuff in your head

ney," Mo

ood re

sell ev

ols, a couple of boxes

ut he jumped ship on De

, a footlocker full-I

hate to lose them; th

ll write a book o

d have been a painter like my father. No talent, though. Anyway, after I took

is

n the barn. We had a country music toast. 'Younger women, faster horses, older whiskey, and mo

l songs," M

I think he was trying to tell me

his point, I suppose," Mo

g on the dash." Joe gave Morgan the cassette from

ake Bay sea chanteys a while back. One of the voices was familiar. I looke

He disappeared into the world of big biz. Wha

take it? I'll p

Daisy doing? I was thinking of

fine." Morgan took a p

er. Of course it help

feel like it. Their da

in New Zealand, I

feel happy and excited when I'm with you, and I feel warm and safe when I'm with Wes."' Joe shook his head. "Knowin

rice aren't bad

I haven't had good relationships since. I mean, Sally and I had Kate, and then I had the chance t

aised. "Prospects a

ects,

lar,"

nd the book, how's

er's annoyed, but h

he Hudson Valley are

ey're going downhill. On the other hand,

said, "yo

t," Mor

footlocker to the barn. "I'm going to hav

e footlocker in a room filled with books. "Two good strategies: s

you probably don't bob as well as you did." Joe

r." Departures required

chance . . . give D

rgan nodded and they w

rself," Joe said.

ck," Mor

gh school district covered a thousand square miles; half an hour later as he crossed its western boundary,

to keep up with the empties and the dirty dishes. He was bald, slow moving, friendly, and particular. His cart was organized to hold as much as possible on each trip. It seemed like the original dead end job

uimby told him, reading it, unbelieving. Joe was an athlete, a most likely to succeed guy; yet there he was every weekend in the BX with Shannon, fascinated by the aging bus boy loading his cart. And Shannon? He was from Ten Mile Creek, south of Pit

be a slag pile. Containers suspended from cable were hauled up the pile, tipped over, and returned upside down. The top of a si

poker machine. Only his right hand moved as he inserted quarters, one after another. Joe sat at the bar, three stools down from

orty. He had a blonde crew cut and a face like a poker chip, Robert Redford run into a door. He set

Shannon. Long time ago. Said he was fro

" Shorty didn't

For

Bobby," S

Joe said

e went in

He around?" Shorty gl

a committ

," the bart

ayed in and retired. He's out there

d. "Would'a lik

e gambler said, putti

dlessly next to the bill and asked, "You

reak, look around." Shorty shook his head. "I mean, what do you do after . .

rtende

ing the ideogra

k. Swallow it whole,

Buddha and the Mi

ears: how sweet t

ha

der said. For an instant his eyes cam

you?" J

wn." There was a blaze of sound from the poker machine followed by a cr

you don't pl

The bartender's expression didn't change. Jo

ng in a university som

bout the difference between

N

"I drink, so be it." A trace of amusement crossed his face. Mitsuhiro, Dylan, and

t into the truck, blinking. "Jesus, Batman, Ten Mile Creek,

al. "Roll 'em, Batman," he said, "Bach first. Then, we'll move on to Gabby Pahinui, get into Willy Nelson, and The Grateful D