Chapter 7: Don't shake the white man's hand

Finally, it was time to say goodbye to Gabe. He directed Ray to the nearest bus station, and gathered his things as Ray pulled over. Everyone got out to stretch their legs.

"Are you sure this is alright?" Brad asked. Gabe pushed his glasses further on his nose and grinned.

"It's a bus stop, Brad," Gabe said, squinting as light from the sunset hit him in the eye. "They might not come very often, but a bus will come. I'll be fine. I know I took you out of your way by a couple of hours already. This is sweet for me."

A car pulled over next to them and a head popped out the window. "Yo, you guys alright?"

"Yeah mate, just dropping him off at the bus stop," Brad called, gesturing to Gabe. The stranger pulled his head back in, then pulled over next to the jeep. He got out of the car.

"Where you headed?" the man asked Gabe. He looked to be of mixed descent, something about him made Brad think he was predominantly Mexican. He had dark close-cropped hair and an expression in his eyes that would have scared most ordinary people. Brad glanced over at Ray, who did look a little concerned – he had the wide-eyed expression that told Brad that he was working really hard not to say anything smart-ass that would get them in trouble. Brad appreciated it.

Either Gabe wasn't phased by the newcomer, or he just didn't realise that his jeep-mates were spooked by him. "Detroit ways," Gabe told him, lifting his chin slightly, his grin a little less easy than Brad had come to know it to be.

"Same as us," the new guy said. He held out his hand to Gabe. "Name's Poke."

"'Poke'?" Ray asked, but shut his mouth when Brad gave him a look.

"Nice to meet you, Poke," Gabe said with a grin, shaking the man's hand. "I'm Gabe. You offering a ride?"

"Well, we've got the room, heading in the same direction," Poke said, spitting. "Why not?"

"Thanks, man," Gabe said. Brad figured he better thank the guy as well.

"That's really decent of you, Poke. We didn't want to leave our friend Gabe here in the lurch but we're headed to California. So thanks," Brad offered his hand to Poke. Poke eyed the hand and Brad suspiciously for a moment, then gestured to Gabe to get in the car.

"No offence, dog, but the last time my people shook the hand of a white man, we sold all of our land for a couple of blankets laced with typhoid." Poke spat again, leaving Brad with his eyebrows raised and his hand unshaken. He got back in the car. Gabe stuck his head out the window.

"Thanks for everything, Brad, Ray!" He yelled over the engine. "Hope you get to California without Trombley shanking someone!"

"See you, Gabe," Ray called with a grin and a wave.

The car began to drive off, then reversed back. Poke stuck his head out the window.

"You're Brad?" he asked Brad, who nodded. "We dropped off a kid who was headed more towards California, just before the exit. Might be he's still needing a ride. It's getting dark, dog, know what I'm saying?"

Brad was surprised at Poke's concern. "Yeah, man, we'll keep an eye out for him," he said with a smile. Poke nodded, still serious like he was at a funeral, and they drove off. Brad waved as they squealed off into the setting sun.

"Hey, what did Gabe say about me?" Trombley finally asked. Brad glanced at Ray, who had one eyebrow raised and had been quiet far too long to not say something smart-ass. Surprisingly, he just grinned innocently at Trombley and got back in the jeep. "What? What did he say?"

"Nothing, Trombley," Brad said, the amusement in his voice almost completely masked by his exasperation. "Get in the jeep. We're on the move."