This Side of Jordan Read Online Free PDF Page A

though when he woke during the night, his bed sheets were damp with sweat and sometimes he coughed so hard he choked. But the sanitarium doctors had promised him he was cured, that all he needed was lots of sunshine and fresh air and a little rest from time to time. They had lied to him, so he didn’t trust them any longer, and if he was going to croak, he didn’t want it to be in one of those cold wards that had already stolen a year of his life.
    Alvin watched as one of the ambulances left the auditorium for Mercy Hospital downtown. A gust of wind rippled through the dark maples overhead. More people came outdoors.
    â€œThat was a close shave,” his new friend said, flicking ash off his cigarette.
    â€œThat kid Petey’s off his head.”
    â€œThey’re all cuckoo, if you ask me.”
    â€œYou ain’t by yourself.”
    The fellow approached him with a smile. “Say, we haven’t really met, have we? My name’s Chester Burke.”
    He offered a firm handshake, which Alvin accepted.
    â€œAlvin Pendergast, sir. Pleased to know you.” That was sincere, too. He liked this fellow because he’d been friendly, unlike most people Alvin knew.
    â€œI guess you’re local, aren’t you? Live in town?”
    Alvin nodded. “We got a farm three miles north of here off Wasson Road. It ain’t that far.”
    â€œGee, I’ll bet that’s hard work,” Chester said, after a drag off his cigarette. Another ambulance arrived.
    â€œSure it is,” Alvin replied, watching several attendants hurry out to meet it. They reminded him of those fellows who helped carry the dead out of the consumption wards in the sanitarium.
    â€œMy uncle hired me onto his hog farm one summer when I was about your age, but I funked it after a month and went home.”
    â€œSlopping hogs don’t stir you up much.”
    A tiny woman in a net frock stood behind the attendants as another of the injured was hoisted into the ambulance.
    Chester chuckled. “You aren’t sore on farming, are you?”
    â€œNaw, it’s a panic.” Of course he hated it, and everyone in the family knew it, too. They said he was just lazy even when he wasn’t sick, which was sort of true, but who’s got a smile and a jump in his step for something he can’t stand?
    â€œWell, I learned myself a long time ago that it can go pretty hard with a fellow who supplies the sweat on somebody else’s safety valve.”
    Alvin watched Chester take out the silver hip flask again, unscrew it and tip it toward his mouth. Nothing came out. Chester frowned and shook it over the grass and saw it was empty. Then he grinned at Alvin. “Say, is there any place a fellow can get a drink around here?”
    Another loaded ambulance left the auditorium, siren wailing across the windy night. Looking over his shoulder, Alvin told Chester, “See this road here?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œWell, if you follow it down two blocks to an alleyway just past a big blackberry patch, you’ll see the old Wickland house on the corner there. Go past it all the way to the end of the alley where you’ll find a little gray shack under a big hackberry tree. It belongs to a lady named Marge Bradford, and it’s the only place you can’t get a drink in this town.”
    Then Alvin laughed.
    So did Chester. “That’s a swell joke, kid. I like you. I suppose not all farmers are hicks, are they?”
    â€œMy uncle Rufus says farmers raise corn, corn makes whiskey, whiskey makes Prohibition agents, and Prohibition agents raise hell.”
    Chester laughed again. “Why, that’s a good one, too.”
    Alvin grinned, starting to feel better somehow. “He’s a jokey old bird.”
    The thick maples swayed in a cold wind gust. Chester asked, “Have you had any supper tonight, kid?”
    â€œI ate a sandwich.” He didn’t have much appetite