Payroll by William James Johnson Chapter 9

Silky stopped his sports car at the guard house and waited for the Corporal on duty to raise the barrier.
"Great party last night Silky...really had a good time."
"Glad you enjoyed yourself."
"Someone's gonna get nailed for a pile of repairs, that's for sure."
"Repairs? What do you mean?"
"Playin' tank screwed up the ceiling in the Club, and tore the legs off a couple chesterfields."
"Can't remember a thing. What the hell is 'tank', anyway?"
"You pick two teams, and they get at opposite ends of the room. They each pick up a chesterfield and charge at each other head on. The first team to knock over the other guys, wins. You were on the CO's team last night. It was wild man, really wild."
"How the hell did the ceiling get damaged?"
"When you crashed together, you forced the other guys' tank up to the ceiling, and the feet of their chesterfield smashed a couple of lights and ripped the shit outa the ceiling. You mean you don't remember any of it?"
"That's right. I musta been bombed, like they say."
"Pissed is more like it. You were polluted man. Don't you remember getting on Watts' back and fightin' those two Mounties. Christ it was funny. You kept yellin' only sissies are picked for the Musical Ride. You're damn lucky the guys didn't take it personal. They were a couple of big mothers."
"Sounds like I must've had a good time."
"We all did. Thanks again Silky."
"That's one they'll all remember."
"You can say that again." He opened the barrier. "Have a good day."
Heading north on the county road Silky suddenly sobered up, letting out a loud ecstatic scream.
"I did it...goddamn I did it. Everything went like clock work. Yahoo, $620,000...all mine. And those dumb bastards thought I was drunk. They are the real drunks. And that idiot Perkins sayin' the guys will remember me because of a goddamn party...well I'll give them all something to remember when I piss off with the money. And those ass holes at the orphanage in Winnipeg, where they used to beat the crap outa me because I wouldn't do what they said. Just let me get my hands on the money and I'm gone...Mexico...or who knows maybe Bangkok like Tilly says."
His hangover act had worked. Drunks sympathize with other drunks. They thought he was now one of them. And that Sayer had given him an extra day to plan his getaway. Then there was the weekend to put as many miles as possible between him and Base Riel.
Turning into his laneway, he spotted Sandy on the side porch. The dog jumped down and ran out to meet him, following him back to the side of the house. Seeing his partner made his heart skip a beat.
"For Chrissake...you came back. That does it. No poison this time. A bullet in the head will take care of this problem."
Sandy jumped up on Silky, bounding round him like a young puppy.
"Easy now young fellow...What's wrong? Think I wasn't comin' back? Come on, let's go inside. You must be starving."
Going to the ice box, Silky took out a large chunk of ground meat and broke it into Sandy's bowl.
"There you go old pal...gorge yourself. You might as well. It's your last meal."
Sandy stood over the food and waited for Silky to give him the proper command.
"Gawd...I almost forgot. Guess we better do this the right way, if that's the way you want it. Sandy (pause) Eat."
The hungry dog wolfed down the food.
"You put that away like there's no tomorrow. Give me a few minutes to change, and we'll go for a walk out to the bush...How's that sound?"
After changing into his old clothes, Silky put a shell into his shotgun. Beside the porch he grabbed his shovel and the two started up the lane to the bush.
"What a glorious day. Geez Sandy I sure wish you could talk. Then again if you could talk, I probably wouldn't have chosen you as a partner. The air feels so clean after that storm last night. Were you back here before it hit? What the hell am I doing. I talk to you as though you can understand what I'm saying...You're only a dog after all."
Sandy ran ahead of him as they entered the bush, and went to the burial spot, and began digging. Silky smiled at first, not realizing what had happened.
"Good boy Sandy. Keep digging. Save me from doing it."
As he drew closer, it suddenly hit him, the money was gone.
"What the hell...this can't be happening."
He fell on his knees and began digging with his hands. Only pieces of torn plastic came out of the hole. Wrapped around a nearby tree was a larger piece of the black plastic, torn by the dog the previous night.
"My gawd...it's gone...I can't believe it. Just like that...it's gone. How the hell..."
Before answering his last question. Silky got a sudden flash of Sandy helping him prepare the hole for the money the night before the robbery.
"You sonofabitch...you did it. You and that goddamn digging you're always doing. You dug it up and buried it somewhere else."
He grabbed Sandy by the ears and shouted into his face.
"Where is it you bastard?...Tell me where it is, or so help me God, you're dead where you stand."
Sandy pulled away from his abuse and dashed for the protection down the path to his small house behind the cabin.
"Come back...Come back you bitch. What the hell am I gonna do now? I can't shoot him. He might still take me to the payroll. And if I let him live, there's always the chance those Mounties might come here and find him, then I'm really screwed."
He started walking slowly towards his cabin, his shotgun over his shoulder, dragging the shovel in the other hand. What a mess. He had planned to shoot Sandy and bury him in the same hole after he had retrieved the money. This goddamn dog was really complicating matters. Then he remembered, his transfer to Officer Candidates' School was due in two weeks. He looked across the wide field behind his cabin, with its dozens of mounds, anyone of which could conceal the payroll.
"How the hell am I gonna find that bag in just two weeks? Only two fuckin' weeks. It had to be the dog...of course it had to be the dog. No one even knows where I live, and not even one vagrant has come into the yard for a drink of water in all the months I've lived here. But where the hell would he bury it?"
He saw Sandy relaxing in his small dog house, his head resting on his two front paws.
"Come on you old clown. I can't stay mad at you. Come on in."
Like most so called dumb animals, Sandy was quick to forgive his master, and came running into the house with Silky, who sat on the floor with his friend and stroked him gently between the ears. Sandy loved this kind of personal attention.
"I bet you thought you were doing me a favour digging up that bag. Well now I've gotta do something else to protect my ass. Those Mounties are bound to come here sooner or later. So why don't you be a sport and show me where you hid the bag?"
Sandy went to the door and looked up at Silky, showing him he wanted to go out.
"Okay old timer. Go get it."
Sandy jumped off the porch and ran to his house in the yard and went inside, and plopped down on the ground. Silky had no idea that he was giving him a clue. When he didn't show any interest, the dog closed his eyes and stayed in his small shelter.
"Guess you haven't forgiven me yet for yelling at you. I don't really blame you...But what in hell do I do? Start to dig up all your mounds, or make up a believable excuse if those cops should come here." He looked again at all the work the dog had done.
"I can always begin digging after I work out my alibi. It's a cinch they're gonna check with Sayer and Tilly, and they'll tell them about me being late the morning of the heist. Then again they've got that goddamn meatball. Jeezus...None of this would've happened if that hot rodder hadn't tried to squash me against the bus."
He went back into the house and sat at his makeshift table, a pencil and several sheets of paper in front of him. He liked to do most of his planning this way. He began writing down several options, discarding all of them after reconsidering them.
"What the hell kinda excuse can I use?"
His late night spent at his party, began taking its toll. He couldn't think straight any more. Dropping his pencil, he stood up and stretched, walking to the rear window where he saw his faithful mutt sound asleep.
"That's what I need. I'm too whipped to think. Maybe Confucius was right, 'Man who go to bed with problem on mind, wake up with solution in hand.' Although I don't think the sage was referring to my kind of problem."
He unrolled his sleeping bag and collapsed on top of it. Soon all the summer sounds and warm breezes disappeared as he sank into a deep sleep.
His cabin was in darkness when Sandy's barking awoke him. Standing on the side porch, silhouetted against the screen he saw the slim figure of a woman.
"Silky? Are you there Silky?"
"Who's there?...That you Rona?"
He reached for his flashlight which he kept beside his sleeping bag and shone it towards the door. She covered her face with her arm to block out the blinding light.
"Turn that thing off. I can't see."
He rose and lit his kerosene lamp and opened the door. Rona and Sandy came in together. He could see now that her face was bruised and her mouth had been bleeding.
"What the hell happened?"
"That creep I work for, wanted more than my waiting on tables. He tried to rape me, but I gave him a kick where the sun don't shine. It'll be sometime before he tries to force himself on another girl."
"How did you find me?"
"Wasn't easy. I called Wayne and he couldn't help me much except he said he thought you probably lived in one of these abandoned farms... I've been looking for you all day. One of the truck drivers who eats at our place told me about this place. He said once in awhile he has been by here at night and he has seen a light flickering. From the road I was sure it was empty, but then I heard this dog. I thought if there's a dog, maybe there's someone home."
Silky held the lamp close to her damaged face.
"Gawd...I can't believe what that bastard did to you."
"At least he didn't get to do what he really wanted to do."
"But your poor face. Let me warm some water so you can clean up."
"You don't mind me being here then...?"
"Of course not. I'm glad you're here...especially now."
"What do you mean...especially now?"
"Let's get you cleaned up first, then I'll explain."
"Okay Silky, whatever you say." She kissed him tenderly. "You really are a sweet guy."
"And you're a sweet lady Rona."
"Yeah...Lady. Look at me. I look like ten miles of bad road."
"I think you look terrific...I've always thought so. And I'm really glad you came."
As she worked at cleaning up, Sandy sprawled on the floor and went to sleep. Silky cleared the table of all the papers, and poured fresh water into the coffee pot, and started it perking on the Coleman stove. Soon the pleasant aroma filled the small cabin. Silky took Rona into his arms, and she began to sob.
"Why can't all men be gentle like you Silky? Why do they have to kick hell out of us women? I'm tired of being knocked around all the time. Let me stay with you...please Silky. Let me be your woman."
"Best offer I've had today. Of course you can stay... I like the sound of that...you bein' my woman."
By now Sandy was sound asleep, and the floor boards began to vibrate with his snoring. Silky patted his sleeping bag.
"Feel that vibration. Just like in those romantic motels, where they have the beds with the magic fingers."
"Where do I put my quarter to get your magic fingers working," asked Rona with a quiet smile.
Silky hadn't known any other women. Since meeting Rona at the St. Patrick's Dance, he had changed. Before that night, he was prepared to go through life alone, scheming to get ahead, no one to complicate things. But now there was his Army transfer, and his problem with the dog and the lost payroll, and now Rona. At least with Rona, he knew he would have a person who gave as much as she took, or more. She was a generous, loving woman, who needed someone to need her for more than a quicky in the back of a bus. The problem now was should he tell her about what had happened. Exhausted by her passion, Silky fell asleep in her arms, convinced she would understand. But he would wait until daybreak before telling her all about it.

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