Jaybird arrived at Tie Chute almost three hours later as the sun was setting. The stone slide was barely visible overgrown with bushes and weeds, but the cleared path up the hill could not be missed. Jaybird gathered his remaining strength and started the climb. When he finally made it to the top, dusk had given way to night, but he knew that he was close to Giessow's Cottage Farm. There were few trees along the ridgeline so when Jaybird sat down on a large flat rock to catch his breath, he had an unobstructed view of the dark river valley he had just emerged from. The night was moonless ...clear, still, and quiet. Once again Jaybird felt alone in the universe, but this time he could see it in all its vastness. Jaybird had seen stars before, but this was the first time he had seen them all, fuzzy as they appeared without his glasses. Where did they come from? He saw a shooting star flash across the sky. Where were they going? Jaybird sat for a long time, chewing on a piece of sassafras root, and thinking. Visions of Buck Rogers in the 25th century danced in his head. Somewhere out there was Ming the Merciless. Jaybird's imagination began to work. Somewhere down in the darkness below him was Phil. Was there any connection between Ming the Merciless and Phil? Phil the fanatic? Jaybird recalled his last sight of Phil clinging to a slippery bush growing out from the muddy river bank. He wondered if Phil knew how to swim. He wondered if he would ever see Phil again.
Jaybird knew that Tie Chute was not part of Cottage Farm, lying some distance north of Grampa Giessow's property line. Grampa Giessow had built his cottages at long intervals on both sides of a gravel road he had laid out along the ridgeline at the top of the high bluff. When at last Jaybird had enough of stars, rocket ships, and other worlds, his thoughts returned to where he was and what he needed to do. He stood and began to walk along the rocky ridge toward the Farm. He walked for almost 30 minutes before the unmistakable smell of an outhouse let him know he was close to the first cottage. Jaybird knew everything there was to know about every cottage on the Farm. He knew which cottages were available for rental by casual and occasional visitors, and he knew which cottages were leased for the entire summer by long time regulars, some of whom held five-year leases. He even knew how much the cottages rented for. A favorite topic of discussion, sometimes heated, between Jaybird's mom and dad was how much Grampa Giessow charged for his cottages. Jaybird could hear his dad's voice ... "It's not enough, Sis, 200 dollars a year is not enough. I don't know why your old man lets these people off so easy."
The cottage he now approached marked the outer limit of Giessow's Cottage Farm; the Lynch family who stayed here the entire summer occupied it. Mr. Lynch, the head of the family, worked in St.Louis during the week, coming to the Farm on Friday nights, and going back to the city early Monday morning, the usual practice for many of the summer occupants of Giessow's Cottage Farm. Jaybird was afraid of Mr. Lynch. For one thing Mr. Lynch was big and ugly. At least Jaybird thought he was ugly with his great black mustache and mean eyes capped with bushy eyebrows the color of coal. But what really scared Jaybird was the enormous black pistol Mr. Lynch carried in a big leather holster strapped to his shoulder. It didn't help when Jaybird was told the reason Mr. Lynch carried that pistol was because he was a policeman. Jaybird had trouble shaking the image of what would happen if Mr. Lynch ever shot anybody with that fearsome weapon.
Jaybird was not surprised to find the cottage dark and quiet. In the evening people gathered to socialize down near the store.The hub of Cottage Farm was the small general store situated close to the middle of the property, a mile or so down a sloping hill from where Jaybird now stood next to the Lynch cottage. Near the store was a spacious playground with swings, slides, and seesaws, all built from metal by Grampa Giessow. In the evening the store and lighted playground were places where grown ups gathered to tell jokes, play cards, and sort out the problems of the world, while the children played games like `kick the can' and `capture the flag'.
Jaybird passed the Lynch cottage and headed down the gravel road toward the light glowing over the trees. Like a horse heading for the barn at the end of the day he found himself moving faster as the light grew brighter. Then suddenly the light went out. Jaybird knew immediately what had happened. Electricity at Cottage Farm was produced by a gasoline-powered generator Grampa Giessow kept in his Power House, a small building close to the store. Grampa Giessow believed in an orderly and precise world ... the power went off at 9 o'clock, people set their clocks by it. Jaybird pushed on in the darkness, he was in familiar territory now. The cottage where he stayed with his mom and dad was directly across the road from the store. On the rocky ground in front of the cottage was a group of a dozen or so wooden Adirondack Chairs arranged in a semi-circle facing the road, where people gathered every night to exchange ideas, dispense the latest gossip, listen to bad jokes, and lament the sorry state of the nation and sometimes the world. But tonight as Jaybird came close he heard a note of concern. Fear had come to Giessow's Cottage Farm.
"What are we going to do, Otto?"
Otto Giessow not only owned the property and had built everything on it, but he was also the primary problem solver. If anything went wrong people looked to him to provide the solution. And something was wrong. The county sheriff from DeSoto, the nearest large town 15 miles away, had come that afternoon with the information that a suspected killer was at large in the area, and was last seen on foot heading in the direction of Giessow's Cottage Farm.
"If he shows his ugly face around here we should just go ahead and shoot him," said Otto Giessow.
Jaybird sat down on the ground in the darkness to listen.
Grampa Giessow was a man of strong opinions. In 1919 following the Great War he had sold his auto mechanic shop in St.Louis rather than hire union labor ... nobody would tell him who he could or could not hire. He was infuriated by the thought of someone threatening the tranquility of his Cottage Farm.
Captain John Lynch of the St. Louis police department, the man Jaybird was afraid of, spoke. "Maybe that's not such a good idea, Ot," he said.
"Why not? The sheriff said that the fugitive was armed and dangerous. We have the right to defend ourselves," said Grampa Giessow.
Captain Lynch had a question. "Have you alerted everybody who's staying out here?"
Otto Giessow was sitting on a great dilemma. The July 4th weekend was the busiest and most profitable time of the year for him. Almost all of his cottages were occupied; over 200 people had come out from the city to enjoy a few days in the country. The idea of telling all these happy people that they might be threatened by a killer on the loose was abhorrent to him ... the information he had was that the man had been seen heading in this direction; for all he knew the guy could be on the moon. But in the back of his mind he had the feeling that the fugitive was indeed close by. He was trying to weigh the consequences of two horns ... if he spread the alarm he might lose his customers for no reason if the alarm proved false, but if he kept quiet and somebody got hurt, or God forbid, killed, how could he face himself? "I don't want to scare them," he said.
Lynch agreed. "You're probably right," he said, " no need to start a panic, besides, the way news travels around here, I have an idea most people already know."
The 10 people sitting around the circle knew, but nobody seemed to be overly concerned. Cottage Farm was so far away from anywhere that it was hard to imagine a man on foot in these Ozark Mountains as a threat to them.
"Does anybody know anything about this killer?" A lady asked, "who did he kill?"
"All we know is what the sheriff told us," said Otto Giessow, "it's kind of mysterious. A farmer over by Ware got shot and his wife came to the sheriff in a panic with this story about a hobo who came to their door for a handout and ended up shooting her husband."
Grandma Giessow shook her head. "What's happened to our country?" she asked. "Bread lines. Soup kitchens. Men begging for food. Why can't we find jobs for people?"
"Ask Roosevelt," said Grampa Giessow scornfully.
"That's hardly fair, Otto." Jaybird recognized the voice of Ernest Guth, the father of his friend Buddy Guth who had a Monopoly game that had captured Jaybird's imagination. Jaybird loved to play Monopoly, he had spent many enjoyable afternoons playing Monopoly in Buddy Guth's breezy cottage. Jaybird was saving his pennies so he could buy his own Monopoly game. He had become oddly resentful of Buddy Guth who had a monopoly on the game and used it to humiliate Jaybird into asking if he could play.
"If the country is going through hard times who's fault is it? We didn't have these problems under Hoover." Otto Giessow knew where to fix the blame.
Ernest Guth was a professor of economics at Washington University in St. Louis and thought he knew something about why the country was in the mess it was in. "It's not that simple, Otto," he said.
"Spare me the lecture, Professor," said Grampa Giessow, "I can see what's going on."
Grandma Giessow recognized the signs of trouble brewing. She had seen her husband get into shouting matches before when the conversation turned to politics. She tried to change the subject. "Does anybody think it's going to rain?" she asked.
Jaybird's mother took the clue from her mother, she had seen her dad fly off also. It was never a good idea to antagonize a paying customer like Professor Guth. "I'm worried about Jaybird," she said, although in truth she was not worried at all. Jaybird was pretty good at taking care of himself as she well knew. Jaybird sitting in the darkness under the trees was surprised and even pleased to hear his mother express concern about him. He started to get up and go to her, but was stopped by the angry voice of his father.
"I'm gonna tan that kid's hide when I get my hands on him," Jaybird's dad said. Jaybird sat back down and withdrew further into the darkness.
"He's been gone two days," said Jaybird's mom, "I'm afraid something bad has happened to him ... and with a killer loose in the hills ..." her voice trailed off.
Grampa Giessow said, "Rin's gone too ...If they don't come back tomorrow, we'll send out a search party. Don't worry, Edie, we'll find him."
Jaybird's Uncle George said, "Nobody knows these hills better than Jaybird, he couldn't get lost, especially if he has Rin with him. Did he tell you where he was going?"
`No. When we woke up in the morning he was gone."
"It's not the first time," said Jaybird's dad.
"He's never been gone this long," said his mom, "maybe we've been working him too hard."
"My foot!" said his dad, "the kid is spoiled as it is."
"Maybe he's been kidnapped." The voice was one Jaybird did not recognize.
There was a shocked silence, but not for long as Jaybird's dad erupted in a loud horselaugh. When he finally contained his mirth he said. "That's the funniest thing I ever heard, we've barely got a pot to piss in, why would anyone kidnap Jaybird?"
"Maybe the fugitive doesn't know that. He probably thinks everybody who comes here is rich."
That statement brought a chorus of chuckles from all around the circle. It also gave Jaybird an idea. He had been feeling left out and under appreciated ever since his baby sister had been born back in February, maybe this was his chance to get some attention. He pulled further back into the darkness. Why not? It might be fun to pretend he was kidnapped. He didn't really believe they would send a search party to look for him. Where would they look? The Farm was too big, there were too many places he might be. Grampa Giessow was too busy with other things ... all these 4th of July visitors. But his mom sounded like she was really worried, maybe he should leave a note for her so she would know he was okay. Right now he was tired and hungry. He stood up and quietly slipped into their cottage which his dad had named Port O' Peoria. Jaybird thought it should have been called Port O' East Peoria since that's where they lived in the Winter, not in Peoria. He was careful not to let the screened door slam as he entered.
Port O' Peoria was built from the same simple design as most of the other cottages at Giessow's Cottage Farm, a roughly 30 foot square building open on two sides, with an enclosed 25 square foot room in one corner. The open sides were screened beginning four feet above the floor and extending four feet to the ceiling. Large canvass awnings to protect against sun and severe weather could be raised and lowered from ropes inside the cottage. On Jaybird's right as he eased into the cottage was a sink and washboard, on his left was a door to the inner room, and just past the door was the icebox. The darkness was no hindrance to Jaybird, he knew exactly where everything was. He knew that the peanut butter jar was in the icebox on the second shelf behind the milk jug. He took a big gulp of milk, noting the first faint hint of sourness, and then scooped out three fingers of peanut butter. Licking his fingers, he went into the stuffy inner room, paused briefly by the crib of his sleeping baby sister, crawled onto his narrow bed in the far corner of the room, and instantly fell asleep.
Two hours later, all the talking finished for this day, Jaybird's mom and dad came to bed unaware in the darkness of Jaybird's presence.