The Lighthouse Road(42)

One of the first things Odd had done when he'd started on the boat was build a davit that could be attached to either of two posts he had set in the floor. From the davit he hung a three-pulley block and tackle and used it to hoist the keel onto the strongback. He'd used it for a dozen things since, and in the hazy light of that morning they rigged the largest of the motor crates with two twenty-foot lengths of chain and attached the chain to the hook of the block and tackle and pulled the crate up onto the boat's deck.



Danny shouldered one of the smaller crates over the gunwale and then peered into the boat. It had been a while since he'd seen it. "You're gonna have this thing in the water in two days?" he said.



Odd didn't stop working. "Yup. That's my plan."



"It's been an awful warm November, I'll give you that. You've got time before the ice sets."



"The main thing, besides the motor, is another coat of varnish." Now he paused, stood with his hands on the gunwale looking over the edge at Danny. "I'll pay you twenty dollars to do the painting."



"Like I'd take your goddamn money."



"Well, I ain't gonna let you do it for free. I know you've got better things to do."



"I got a couple days to spare. I'm here to help."



"I ain't asking you to do this," Odd said. "I wouldn't ever expect it."



"I know that."



Odd reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out his wad of



cash. He peeled back a five-dollar bill and handed it to Danny. "For turpentine. Klaus Hakonsson sells it out of his shop." Odd checked his watch, peeled another fiver from his roll. "He must be open by now. Take the truck. Get the turpentine, then stop at the dry goods and buy us some things to eat for the next couple days. We're gonna be a couple of hungry sons of bitches. Make sure you get coffee. And braunshweiger."



"And onions, in that case."



"We'll be some fine-smelling soldiers."





Danny was gone for two hours. When he returned Odd was out front of the fish house standing over an open fire. A charred pot hung from a cast-iron tripod over the flames. He had sawhorses set up off to the side, and on the plank that spanned the sawhorses buckets of pine tar and Japan drier sat ready. Danny put the cans of turpentine on the makeshift table and went back to the truck for the groceries. When he was done unloading he came and stood beside Odd.



"Some sort of witches' brew?" Danny said.



"It's linseed oil." Odd pointed at the cans and buckets behind him. "That's our varnish. It's time to get the brushes going." He looked up at the dull morning sky, judged the sun's spot behind the clouds. "Must be about eleven. I'll be sleepless these days."



"I'll keep you company. Got us a little something extra."



"Something extra?"



"A case of Hakonsson's home brew."



" Maybe I ought to be stealing you away, Riverfish," Odd said, a wry smile creeping.



"I don't put out the way your gal does, be clear on that."



Odd's smile went full. "Not many do, brother. Not many do."



By noon the boat was wiped down, the varnish brewed and cooling in an empty whiskey barrel. They worked in unison, Danny painting the hull while Odd puzzled out the motor. It came with a twenty-page manual that Odd had all but memorized over the previous days, and by suppertime of their first day working he had the main engine mounted in the motor box and the vanadium-steel shaft threaded through the skeg and coupled to the engine.



The fish house smelled of the varnish, pitchy and fresh but strong, so they opened windows and the big barn doors. At midnight they broke to eat and crack beers.



"When are you going to fill me in?" Danny said.



Odd had a mouthful of braunschweiger and onions so he finished chewing and took a long pull from the home brew and said, "Well, Rebekah's in the family way."



"Oh, hell."



"Naw, it's a good thing. It's getting us out of here."



"Rebekah wants out of here?"



Odd took another pull on his beer. "She's scared."



Danny shook his head. "Careful, making a lady do what she don't want to."



"Who said that?"



" Never mind. Where are you taking her?"



Odd nodded. "We'll go to Duluth first. See what I can shake out. See what happens in the springtime."



Danny nodded. "You better hope for no wind come Sunday and Monday."



"I'm hoping."



They ate in silence, popped a couple more beers. When Odd finished his sandwich he rolled a cigarette and pushed himself off the counter. He took a long drag on his smoke.