In Cold Blood - Truman Capote [67]
With a Wishing Well. Put painted signs up and down the highway. But none of it meant a nickel more. When Dad realized that - saw it wasn't any use, all we'd done was waste ourselves and all our money - he began to take it out on me. Boss me around. Be spiteful. Say I didn't do my proper share of the work. It wasn't his fault, any more than it was mine. A situation like that, with no money and the grub getting low, we couldn't help but be on each other's nerves. The point came we were downright hungry. Which is what we fell out over. Ostensibly. A biscuit. Dad snatched a biscuit out of my hand, and said I ate too much, what a greedy, selfish bastard I was, and why didn't I get out, he didn't want me there no more. He carried on like that till I couldn't stand it. My hands got hold of his throat. My hands - but I couldn't control them. They wanted to choke him to death. Dad, though, he's slippery, a smart wrestler. He tore loose and ran to get his gun. Came back pointing it at me. He said, 'Look at me, Perry. I'm the last thing living you're ever gonna see.' I just stood my ground. But then he realized the gun wasn't even loaded, and he started to cry. Sat down and bawled like a kid. Then I guess I wasn't mad at him any more. I was sorry for him. For both of us. But it wasn't a bit of use - there wasn't anything I could say. I went out for a walk. This was April, but the woods were still deep in snow. I walked till it was almost night. When I got back, the lodge was dark, and all the doors were locked. And everything I owned was lying out there in the snow. Where Dad had thrown it. Books. Clothes. Everything. I just let it lie. Except my guitar. I picked up my guitar and started on down the highway. Not a dollar in my pocket. Around midnight a truck stopped to give me a lift. The driver asked where I was going. I told him, 'Wherever you're headed, that's where I'm going.' " Several weeks later, after again sheltering with the James family, Perry decided on a definite destination - Worcester, Massachusetts, the home town of an "Army buddy" he thought might welcome him and help him find "a good-paying job." Various detours prolonged the eastward journey; he washed dishes in an Omaha restaurant, pumped gas at an Oklahoma garage, worked a month on a ranch in Texas. By July of 1955 he had reached, on the trek to Worcester, a small Kansas town, Phillipsburg, and there "fate," in the form of "bad company," asserted itself. "His name was Smith," Perry said. "Same as me. I don't even recall his first name. He was just somebody I'd picked up with somewhere, and he had a car, and he said he'd give me a ride as far as Chicago. Anyway, driving through Kansas we came to this little Phillipsburg place and stopped to look at a map. Seems to me like it was a Sunday. Stores shut. Streets quiet. My friend there, bless his heart, he looked around and made a suggestion." The suggestion was that they burglarize a nearby building, the Chandler Sales Company. Perry agreed, and they broke into the deserted premises and removed a quantity of office equipment (typewriters, adding machines). That might have been that if only, some days afterward, the thieves hadn't ignored a traffic signal in the city of Saint Joseph, Missouri. "The junk was still in the car. The cop that stopped us wanted to know where we got it. A little checking was done, and, as they say, we were 'returned' to Phillipsburg, Kansas. Where the folks have a real cute jail. If you like jails." Within forty-eight hours Perry and his companion had discovered an open window, climbed out of it, stolen a car, and driven northwest to McCook, Nebraska. "Pretty soon we broke up, me and Mr. Smith. I don't know what ever became of him. We both made the F.B.I.'s Wanted list. But far as I know, they never caught up with him." One wet afternoon the following November, a Greyhound bus deposited Perry in Worcester, a Massachusetts factory town of steep, up-and-down streets that even in the best of weathers seem cheerless and hostile. "I found the house where my friend was supposed to live. My Army