- Text Size +

XIII (June 1932)

Roughing it was hard after nearly two months of living in luxury. Carla had gotten used to wearing dresses and enjoying hot baths and pinning her hair up into little pincurls every night. As soon as they got far enough away from Chicago, she handed Nick a pair of shears and let him hack away as much of her curls as he could so she would look like a boy again.

"How does it look?" she asked, running her fingertips through the short hair at the back of her head. The feel of a cool breeze on her bare neck sent chills down her spine.

"You look like Carl again," Nick replied simply, and Carla wasn't sure if she detected disappointment in his voice or not. Then he jokingly added, "I think I might've given you a bald patch in the back, though."

As Nick and Carl once again, they traveled through several cities trying to find work, but their reputation had preceded them. Both the incident at the Aragorn Ballroom and the influence of Lou Pearlman meant that no venue of any caliber would let them perform. To Carla's dissatisfaction they ended up playing in a couple of speakeasies before retreating out to the countryside.

That was when Nick brought up farm work. "The best way to stay fed between gigs is to follow the food. It's hard work, but there's no shortage of farmers who need a hand and you can move around with the harvest." They took on odd jobs helping out on small farms that paid them in potatoes and eggs and whatever else was in their pantries. They were also provided with shelter to cover their heads at night, although usually it was a drafty barn or shed. When they could find better-paying work, it was usually on big harvests where they joined teams of field hands to cultivate acres of land. Although farm work didn't make much money, it kept their bellies full and helped to pass the time while Nick and Carla lay low waiting for everyone in the music scene to forget about their Chicago debacle.

...

The month was June, and as they walked through a cherry orchard to their next destination, Nick explained how to tell the difference between ripe and unripe cherries. "Now, you don't want to pick one that's not ripe yet, or you can crack your teeth pretty badly. Plus, they don't taste so great. Here, see these are good." He stripped some cherries off a tree as they passed by and shared a couple with Carla. The fresh fruit was bursting with dark juices, and Nick had to hold the cherries carefully as he ate to keep them from staining his front.

When he was done, he worked the pit around in his mouth and then spit, aiming at the nearest tree. It bounced off the skinny tree trunk, and he thrust his hands in the air declaring, "Two points!"

Carla laughed and copied him, shooting at a tree close to her. They walked along in this fashion for some time, eating ripe cherries off of trees and shooting out the pits until they had had their fill.

"Didya know, there are actually two kinds of cherry trees - the kind that makes fruit and the kind that just flowers," Nick told her. "Have you ever seen cherry blossoms flowering?" She shook her head, wiping her juice-stained hands on her dark pants. "Well, last year sometime around April I was over in D.C. and they have this area there right by the water called Tidal Basin. It's just filled with cherry blossom trees. In the springtime the trees have all these white and pink flowers, and when they fall, it looks like snow... It's one of the prettiest sights I've ever seen."

"That sounds lovely. Back home, we didn't have many flowers. It was my dad who kept the garden going when he was alive, but Mama doesn't have much of a green thumb, and Paul can't even keep the grass on our front lawn green."

Nick laughed for a second then looked at her seriously. "How is your family doing anyway? I never got to ask you about the last letter you got from them."

"Oh, they're all right. Mama says the money I made back in Chicago really helped to put food on the table, and my brothers and sisters seem to be doing fine."

"They must miss you a lot," he commented, watching her reaction. He saw her stiffen, but then she shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess so."

Nick didn't really understand why Carla worked so hard to support such a thankless bunch. He knew what it was like to have a family whose only goal seemed to be to suck his soul dry. She didn't seem to want to talk about it, though, so he moved on to a new topic. "Hey, did I ever tell you ‘bout that time..."

...

Carla was glad when Nick changed the subject. Her family had gotten used to the steady flow of money she'd been sending them, but when the cash flow dried up, she began to receive fewer and fewer letters from them. The last message had been extremely terse, stating that if Carla didn't have any money to send along then she had better not bother them, as Carla's pregnant mother was very busy trying to take care of a houseful of children.

Of course, Carla had never told Nick the whole truth about her family - the real nature of her father's death or that she'd been kicked out because she had become such a burden to them - and Carla was glad that Nick rarely broached the subject. He never talked about his own family. In fact, he didn't seem to have a family as the only person Carla ever saw him writing to was sweet Mrs. Randall from Belleville.

Now Nick was relating the story of a fruit-throwing fight with a stranger, involving an overripe crop and its very sticky consequences. She lifted her face to laugh at the punch line, glad that Nick was her friend - even if they did have an odd sort of relationship. After fleeing the city, they had gradually melded back into their old ways of Nick calling her Carl all the time and treating her like one of the boys, but there was no denying that she had been able to turn his head when she'd dressed and acted like a girl in Chicago. He had, after all, kissed her-even if it was just to "shut her up" and his reaction to Brian's advances had seemed tinged with jealousy.

Sometimes Carla wondered what would have happened if she hadn't stopped that kiss before it led anywhere. She tried picturing what it would be like if she and Nick were together, but it was hard to imagine. He didn't seem like the type who could stick to one relationship. After all, the ladies loved Nick, and Nick loved the ladies. Sometimes he would date two, three girls at a time. In the end, Carla decided things were better off the way they were, with the two of them as just friends, even if Nick did call her Carl when he didn't have to and treated her like she was just another fellow. After all, none of those girls got to spend as much time with him as she did.

"Hey, Carl," Nick interrupted her ruminations. "It's not just overripe fruit that makes a big mess, you know." Before she could catch on to his meaning, he'd taken a handful of cherries and smeared it across the front of her vest.

"Nick!" Carla shrieked hysterically.

"Oh-ho!" he cried out. "The mute boy screams like a girl!" Nick lifted her newsboy cap from her head and mashed a fat cherry into Carla's short, dark hair. "Tag, you're it!"

"I'm gonna get you for this!" she hollered, stripping the nearest branch and pelting cherries at his retreating figure. They chased each other through the orchard in a game of fruit tag, and when they finally came out the other side of the thicket of trees, both Carla and Nick were panting, messy, and covered in red and purple splotches.

"Stream," Nick wheezed, pointing to a brook in the distance.

"Race... you there," Carla gasped, hands on her knees.

"O... kay," he nodded, but neither of them moved. "Or-" puff "-how about we... walk?"

...

"You know, I think somebody's coming," Nick muttered, stepping in front of Carla to shield her from view. They were bathing in the riverbank clad only in woven boxer shorts, and Nick thought Carla's tightly bandaged chest would be noticeably peculiar were anyone to approach them.  He reached for their bags and handed her a shirt, which she buttoned on quickly.

Nick cupped his hands to his mouth and raised a shout at the cluster of trees trembling downstream. "HELLO! SOMEBODY THERE?"

"Hello!" called back a man several years older than Nick as he stepped into the clearing. The man had swarthy, olive-colored skin, dark curly hair, and a bushy beard. Two young women hid behind him, peeking around his arms at Nick and Carla on the riverbank. "I thought I heard someone talking over here..." The man walked closer and exclaimed suddenly, "Well, I'll be. Girls, this here is Nick Carter!"

Nick looked at him closely and then his face lit up. "Howard Dwaine! Well, Howie D, it's been a while!  Almost didn't recognize you there. You grew a beard since I saw you last." He heard the girls giggle at his lack of clothing and grabbed his garments off the shore.  "Oh, if you'll excuse me, I'll be getting dressed. This is my buddy Carl Miner," Nick motioned back at Carla, who'd already gotten out of the water and into some pants.  "He's a mute so he doesn't speak, but he can hear y'all just fine.  Carl, this is Howard Dorough.  He travels as a farm laborer, too."

Carla nodded at the man, who extended his hand. "Call me Howie.  These two here are my sisters, Caroline and Polly."  The entire lot shook hands around.

"I know you said before that you had some sisters my age, but this is the first time I've ever seen you with them," Nick noted as he and Carla grabbed their packs and followed Howie and the girls through the trees.

"This is the first time I've ever had them with me.  We've been traveling on foot ‘cause I'd be a fool to let them near the rails." Nick and Carla exchanged looks as Howie continued, "If I had any choice, though, they would still be back at home.  Unfortunately things got so bad that we needed them to work."

"That's the way of the world," Nick nodded with understanding.  "So, you guys camped around here?"

"Yeah, you should join us for the night.  We found a jungle somebody set up just along this path.  Good place, wide area with the stream running down to a pond below it.  We were just about to go fishing when I heard you," Howie said, leading them down a trail. "I swear your mouth is as big and loud as ever, Carter."

"Hey!" Before he could object, his attention was grabbed by the size of the jungle they entered.  Each traveler had added something to the clearing until it had become a well-established campsite. All the brush and loose dirt had been swept away, leaving plenty of room to pitch a tent. A worn straw broom leaned against a tree for sweeping. There was also a fire ring with stones piled all around it that was topped with a makeshift grate for cooking. Someone had even strung a line up between trees and left clothespins for hanging laundry. "Wow..."  Nick gave a low whistle.  "Quite a place you found here.  You and the girls camped down there?" he noticed where a couple of pup tents had been erected beneath the trees.  "Then Carl and I will take this end.  Come on, Carl.  Let's get settled so we can meet them at the pond for some fishing."

"We'll be right down that path," Howie indicated as he and his sisters grabbed a couple of fishing poles and headed down to the fishing pond.

...

"Oh!  Oh, you almost got it, Caroline! Come on, just give the rod a good pull. Th-there you go. Careful...  careful...  all right!" Carla looked over from her fishing spot further downriver to see Nick and Howie's sister reeling in a lively trout. She turned to Polly beside her, who was beaming happily.

"Wow, Carl, they got another one!" She had a bright smile and large, shining eyes. "They sure are pulling a lot in. Not as many as you, though! How do you do it?"

Carla smiled back and shrugged earnestly. She wasn't really catching any, but Howie's sister seemed to think she was the greatest angler in the world. Polly responded excitedly every time the rod dipped from a fish nibble and cheered with enthusiasm whenever one was caught. Over the girl's shoulder, Carla could see Nick and Caroline holding up their prize. Nick saw her watching them and called out, "Oy, Carl! I think we've got enough. Bring it in now, will you?"

Carla reeled in the line and grabbed her string of fish while Polly carried the fishing pole to where the others were sitting. Nick and Howie were on the shore with their pocket knives, scaling and gutting the fish to be cooked. Pulling out her own knife, Carla joined them while Howie's sisters watched, alternately grimacing in disgust and oohing and ahhing at the dexterity of the boys. After cleaning the fish, the group packed up and headed back to camp.

...

Nick stretched and rubbed his belly after a good supper of grilled trout. "Hey, how about some music?" he suggested.  Nick grabbed his guitar from the tent and handed it to Carla, whom he had been teaching a few songs.  "Here, you play, and me and Howie'll sing. It'll give you a chance to practice." Carla nodded and checked that the guitar was in tune.

"Now, my buddy is kinda new to playing the guitar, so cut him some slack," Nick told them. "But I think you'll like it.  He's a fast learner and pretty good. Ready, Carl?"

She nodded and began to play. As the night deepened and the stars grew brighter, a sense of peace settled over the camp. The girls sat with their brother on one side of the fire making moon eyes at the boys across from them. It was getting late when Polly jumped up, remembering that she'd left her hat back on the shore. "Can you come with me, Carl?"

Carla shrugged, setting down the guitar, and followed her through the brush.

"It's pretty late," Nick said once they had disappeared. "I think I'll turn in for the night."

As he put his guitar back into its case, Nick heard Howie say to himself, "You know, I don't remember her bringing a hat with her this morning."

Minutes later, the bushes shook wildly as Carla came tearing back to the campfire like a bat out of hell.  Polly followed not too far behind, though at a much more sedate pace, holding up her hands and shrugging.

Nick looked up, and Carla grabbed him by the arm, tugging him away to their side of the jungle. "Hey, what's wrong kid?" he asked.  "Stop it. You're practically yanking my arm out. What happened?" he stopped her in front of their tent, making sure that no one was around.

"She kissed me!" Carla hissed.

"Polly?" Nick was dumbfounded for a moment and then laughed.  Loudly.  He couldn't resist.  "Well, you gotta admit, Carl, you make a really pretty boy."

"Ugh!" She pushed him so hard that Nick hit the ground.  His bottom was quite sore for days after that.

Chapter End Notes:

Author's Note: Howie is actually the baby in his family, but for story purposes I made him the eldest.