Hal drives for a couple of hours. Mary dozes, her head on my shoulder when he pulls off the road. In the dark, it's hard to tell where we are, but the ground is flat and the sound of rushing water indicates a stream or creek is nearby.
Bobby and Earl find twigs and a branch on the ground and start a campfire. Two makeshift tents are quickly set up.
Peeta and I have no food, but the Browns offer to share their meal. Mary opens a few cans of beans, and makes a flatbread from flour, oil, and a pinch of salt. She fries it in a pan over the fire.
Peeta gets the tin plate out of his satchel and Mary heaps enough beans and bread onto it for the both of us.
Our experience is not so different than those who traveled west by covered wagon more than eighty years ago except that their journey took six months. According to Hal, this trip will take three or four days.
After the meal, Earl pulls out a harmonica and plays, while Mary and I walk a distance away and take turns squatting in the dirt to pee where the men can't see us.
Later, Hal gives Peeta a blanket and tells us to sleep in the back of the truck. For a second night I lie next to him. We could both use a bath, but I'm too tired to care.
"We got lucky," Peeta whispers, his arm around my shoulders as we rest on a cushion that is propped up against the back of the truck. "They seem like good people. Hal asked me if we wanted to continue to travel with them in exchange for contributing some money for gas."
"That sounds like a good idea."
"I'm glad you approve, because I already said `yes'."
"Will we have enough money? We're going to need to buy some food too."
"With the money your friend provided, we should be okay. I have a dollar, too."
"Good."
I hold off telling Peeta about the ring because it sounds like he's figured out a way to get us as far as California. Besides it's not like I'll run into anyone who's willing to buy it in the middle of nowhere.
We travel with the Browns along Route 66 for the next three days, sharing day-old donuts, cowboy coffee, and more beans and flatbread. Hal drives mostly, but occasionally he turns the wheel over to Peeta to get a rest, and joins his brothers in the truck bed.
Peeta tells humorous stories about his childhood to Mary and me as he drives. We laugh so hard that Mary forbids him to tell us any more because she fears she'll wet herself.
"Katniss, your husband is so funny."
Peeta catches my eye and winks and for a moment I forget that we are only play-acting at being married and I grin back at him.
It's easy to feel married to Peeta as he acts like a devoted husband to keep up the lie. He uses terms of endearment when speaking to me, touches me often, and even leaves the occasional peck on my cheek or lips. Every night we sleep in each other's arms, wedged tightly in the truck bed between the household items the Browns' have brought with them.
In Texas, Bobby and I shoot rabbits for dinner. Hal and Peeta skin them and Mary rolls them in flour, salt and pepper and fries them over the fire. I can't remember when I enjoy a meal more.
In New Mexico, Earl finds a ten-dollar bill lying on the floor in the gas station restroom. He gives it to Hal who is so excited at the find that he tells us to keep our money.
"I'm paying for all the gasoline from now on."
We stop driving early that day. We camp along a creek, where we get the chance to wash up. The weather has been a scorcher and we stink like pigs.
Our trip goes smoothly until we reach Arizona. While stopping for gas we hear rumors from the station attendant that California has turned back some people from entering the state.
"I don't know what's going on now, but earlier this year they had police stationed at the border. If you didn't have proof of a job or a wallet full of cash they wouldn't let you in."
"That can't be right," Hal says. "This is America. I'm a citizen and I can go wherever the hell I want."
We camp close to the California state line that night.
"What am I going to do if they turn me back?" Hal frets as we sit around the campfire. "There's nothing for us back home."
"They must be letting people in," Peeta points out. "We haven't seen too many vehicles driving east."
"That's true," Hal mutters.
"Look maybe I can help. I have a letter from the governor's office in Kentucky recommending me for my job in Oregon. We could say we're only passing through California and don't intend to stay."
Early the next morning, before the sun is even up, Peeta drives Hal's truck across the California state line. All of our worries were for naught because there isn't even anyone there to question us.
We spend the entire day on the road, crossing the Mojave Desert in the cool morning hours and then meandering our way further west, before turning north.
Along the way we stop for tacos at a roadside stand. It is the first time any of us have eaten Mexican food.
"I hope this spicy dish won't cause my labor to start," Mary jokes.
Her silly comment makes me pause thinking about how alone she'll be without family to help her.
Peeta and I say our goodbyes to the Brown family in Salinas. They want to drive to the farm fields in the Salinas Valley in hopes of finding work, while we have a better chance of obtaining a ride north if we stay in town.
Mary cries at our parting, as do I. We, who come from such varied backgrounds, have become fast friends, thrown together under such unlikely circumstances.
I ask Mary to drop me a line in care of my Uncle Haymitch in Sandy, Oregon, when she has the baby. I wish I had something to give her, something that would help make her days easier. Then I remember that I do. I open my suitcase and pull out The Rich Man's Pearl.
I haven't read it, maybe I never will, but I hope she'll like it because I know that it made the women on my library route happy.
"Here's something for you to read while the baby naps." I shove it into her hands. "I hope you'll like it."
They drive away, and Peeta and I are on our own again.
"Let's get something to eat Katniss."
It's long past dinnertime but we find a diner that is open. We share a plate of french fries.
"I have two dollars left from the money Darius gave me." I swirl my french fry around in catsup as I speak. "I think we should get a room to stay in tonight. It would be nice to take a shower, and sleep in a bed for a change."
"It would be nice," Peeta agrees, "but you might want to save your money. We've still got more than 500 miles to go."
"Well, here's the thing." That's when I tell Peeta about my engagement ring and my plan to sell it. "Hopefully I can get enough money for it to buy us bus tickets to Oregon."
He frowns. "If you want to sell your ring, that's your business. But I can't accept a bus ticket from you."
"Why not?"
He doesn't answer because the waitress picks that moment to slap the bill on the table. Immediately Peeta picks it up. "I've got this."
We go outside and wander around, looking for a place to spend the night. But we're in town, not the countryside, and all the park benches are taken. It doesn't take too long for Peeta to agree that we'll have to pay for lodgings, like I suggested, unless we want to sleep in an alleyway. Eventually we find a place on a side street for $1.75. It's dingy, but there's a bed and a shower.
When we get inside, Peeta kicks off his shoes and lies back on the bed, while I head straight for the bathroom with my suitcase. I take a long shower, enjoying the water as it washes over me, and then scrub my hair with bar soap. Can it only be seven days since I said my goodbye to Dandelion? It seems like a lifetime ago.
I comb through the tangles in my wet hair, and braid it, but leave the braid hanging down. I put on a clean dress because even though I slept in Peeta's arms for the past four nights, wearing my nightgown seems more intimate, like we really are married.
Peeta dozes, but I gently shake his shoulder. "You can shower now."
He startles awake. He sits up and looks at me in the same bold fashion he did when I entered his family's cabin months ago.
"You look nice Katniss." His voice is low, and a shiver runs through me as I consider that I'm alone in a hotel room with him. There's nothing to stop us from acting on the growing physical attraction that has been building throughout our trip.
Peeta gets off the bed, grabs his satchel and goes into the bathroom.
I set my suitcase on the bed and pull out the small cloth bag that contains my engagement ring. I put it on my finger, and think back to the day Gale gave it to me.
Never would I have expected to be sitting in a hotel room on the other side of the country with a different man planning to sell this ring that once held so much promise, and being happy about it.
I've certainly changed.
Putting the ring away, I lie down on the bed and daydream.
For some reason another scene from It Happened One Night comes to mind. Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert, who are unmarried, share a hotel room.
Of course being the movies, the room has two twin beds, unlike the lumpy double bed in this room. For modesty purposes, Clark Gable strings up a blanket between the two beds.
He calls the blanket "the wall of Jericho." It's a joke that runs throughout the movie, because at the conclusion, when the couple weds, the wall falls down.
I close my eyes and think of Peeta's lips covering mine, his strong arms encircling me. I'm twenty-six years old and more than ready for the walls to fall down. And I don't care if our marriage is real or not.
My mind made up, I decide to seduce Peeta when he gets out of the bathroom. But he's in there too long, and I fall asleep.
The room is nearly dark when I awaken. Only a faint streetlight shows where the drapes don't quite meet up at the window.
The other side of the bedspread has been folded over me. I turn to my right to see Peeta lying next to me. He is on his stomach, but his face is turned toward me. I reach out to touch his cheek that is smooth now that he's shaved. I put my hand on his hair. It's still damp from the shower. He makes a squeaking sound.
My opportunity has passed. I curse myself for falling asleep and ruining everything.
Sadness pierces my heart as I realize that we won't be together much longer. We'll soon arrive in Oregon. I'll work for my uncle, while he'll work at Mount Hood.
It was Peeta's suggestion to let everyone think we were wed, but is it all pretend to him? Before he left Dandelion, he told me that he liked me. But have his feelings grown?
I guess I should be grateful that he's been a gentleman at least, although a good part of me wishes he wasn't. Sighing I fall back asleep.
It's late when I wake up, almost nine. The drapes have been drawn open and the room is empty. Where is Peeta? Has he left me behind?
His words in the diner the previous evening when he rejected my offer of buying him a bus ticket spring to mind. A momentary panic comes over me until I spy his satchel on the chair. Perhaps he stepped out for some fresh air.
I go into the bathroom to ready myself for the day, wash my face, fix my hair and brush my teeth. At least I'm clean, although my dress is wrinkled from sleeping in it.
When I exit the bathroom, Peeta sits at the small table. He has two donuts and a cup of coffee.
"There's a bakery down the street. I noticed it when we were walking around last night."
He gives me a donut and we share the coffee.
He finishes his donut before me. "I wanted to talk to you about the rest of the trip. You don't have to pay my way. You should be safe traveling by yourself on the bus. I can hitchhike."
My heart sinks. "But I thought you said we'd travel to Oregon together."
"Yes, but I don't want you to think you're obligated to pay for me."
Does he plan to say good-bye right now? "Will you at least come with me while I try to sell the ring?"
"Of course. I'm not leaving you until I see you safely aboard a bus headed to Oregon."
We pack our things up and return the room key. When I ask, the proprietor directs us to a jeweler on Main Street.
The shop is small. We're a few minutes early, the sign says it opens at ten, so we wait outside and look in the display window.
Soon, a man appears who turns the sign on the door around from "closed" to "open."
Peeta opens the door for me and we step inside.
A balding man watches us from behind the counter.
"What can I do for you?" He looks to Peeta. "Looking to buy a wedding band young man?"
My cheeks grow warm, as Peeta murmurs "no."
I step forward. "I have a ring I want to sell."
"I don't buy jewelry. I've got too much inventory already. You'll have to go to the pawn shop."
My face drops.
"Well, let me take a look at it anyway. I can at least give you an idea of what it's worth."
Peeta gives me my suitcase and I set it onto the glass counter, open it, and pull out the cloth bag.
I hand the bag over and the jeweler pulls out the ring. He holds it up and turns it over.
"The stone is onyx," I say.
He picks up a loupe, holds it to his eye, and studies the stone, turning the ring this way and that.
Finally he sets the loupe down and hands me back the ring and the bag.
"I'm sorry to tell you but that stone isn't onyx. It's colored glass."
"That's impossible." Gale was proud of the ring he bought for me. He never would have tried to pass off colored glass as a gemstone.
"Is there someone else around who could take a look?"
The man nods. "Go to the pawnshop down the street. She knows her stuff."
I put the ring back into the cloth bag, and grab my suitcase. Peeta follows after me as I stomp forward, convinced that the jeweler must lie, although I can't figure out a reason for him to do so. He'd already said he wasn't interested in buying the ring before he even looked at it.
I rush into the pawnshop. It's larger than the jewelry store and filled with shelves holding the cast-off luxuries, and even necessities, of people's lives.
"I have a ring." I hand the cloth bag over to a woman who must be as old Maggs. "Could you tell me its value?"
She picks up a loupe and studies it the same way the jeweler did.
"Honey, this is colored glass and the band is made of 10 karat gold. That means there's more alloy metals in it than real gold. The best I could offer you is a couple of dollars for it."
Two dollars! Angry tears leak out the corner of my eyes. I think I may be sick.
"Was the ring a gift?" she asks.
I nod, taking a moment to choke back my emotions. "It was an engagement ring, but we broke it off."
"I'm sure your fiancé purchased it in good faith. An unscrupulous jeweler deceived him. There are a lot of them around these days."
She holds the ring out to me, but I can't accept it back. I only have 25 cents to my name and 500 more miles to go.
"I'll take the cash."
She hands me two singles from a box beneath the counter.
Two dollars. I don't have enough money for a bus ticket.
"I'm sorry Katniss," Peeta says when we stand on the sidewalk outside the shop.
Wiping angry tears from my cheeks, I muster up a smile. "Can I travel the rest of the way to Oregon with you, Peeta?"
"Of course." He rubs his hand in circles on my back to calm me. "Let's walk to the highway. Maybe we can catch a ride from there." He picks up my suitcase and we set off.
We don't wait too long before a driver stops. We end up riding in the flatbed of a pickup truck. It only takes us a few miles north, but we continue that pattern for the rest of the day. Going in a northeastern direction mile-by mile. We sleep in an orchard that night.
The second day we're lucky when we're offered a ride that takes us all the way to Portland, Oregon. We spend that night in a Hooverville camp, set up on an empty lot between two office buildings.
It's a stifling hot day as we beg rides to Sandy, which is a little less than 30 miles east of Portland.
Peeta says he'll escort me to my uncle's house before hitching his way to the Mount Hood. It seems the place where he is to work is only 35 miles down the road from Sandy.
We arrive in my uncle's hometown a little past noon. I don't know his address because his letter was in my stolen purse, so I go to the post office and ask for directions.
Turns out he lives a mile outside of town. It's early afternoon when we arrive.
Uncle Haymitch has a large, two-story clapboard house. It's painted white, but the front door is dark green to match the trim around the windows. A white picket fence surrounds the grassy front yard.
Wildflowers are planted along the front of the house.
The overall appearance is picturesque, like an illustration in a storybook. The house and property look far larger, and better-tended than my mother's home in Dandelion.
A wave of anger goes through me as I think about my family's financial losses. Surely my uncle could have helped us.
Peeta's mouth is agape as he takes in the sight, reminding me of his amazed reaction to my father's library. I can't help but think he's comparing this house to his family's cabin in the hills above Dandelion.
"Come with me to the door," I tell him, wondering if I carry the stench of the Hooverville camp with me.
I am nervous about meeting my uncle who is a stranger. But I'm also not ready to say good-bye to Peeta yet.
We open the gate and walk up to the house. I knock on the door. No answer. I knock again. Still no answer. I pound on the door with my fist. No one comes.
"Maybe he's at work," Peeta suggests. "Isn't today Thursday?"
I've been traveling so long that I've lost track of my days.
"You're right, that must be it." I put my hand on the front door and turn the knob. Perhaps my uncle left it unlocked for me.
No such luck.
"Let's go around back. Maybe there's an open window."
We leave the enclosed front yard and walk around the house. Behind it stands a small outbuilding. An older-model pickup truck is parked nearby.
I climb the stairs to the back porch and peer in the kitchen window, as the curtains are parted. A man sits at a table, his head slumped over a typewriter.
I gasp, causing Peeta to come up beside me to look in.
"Do you think he's dead?"
"No, if you look closely you can see his back is moving up and down from breathing."
Peeta turns the knob on the back door. It opens.
"You better go in first Katniss since he's your uncle. I don't want to get shot or something."
Remembering the few times, shotguns were pointed at me as I appeared at cabins on my library route, I step inside and call out, "Uncle Haymitch."
He snorts loudly, but continues to sleep slumped over the typewriter.
I step in further. Peeta follows me into the house. It's a large kitchen, but the counters are covered with dirty plates and pans. The floor needs sweeping.
Peeta lifts a nearly empty bottle of Jim Beam whiskey off the counter. "This must be the reason he can't wake up."
"He's drunk?"
"Appears so."
I am aggravated at the messy state of his house and his person. Has he enticed me to Oregon to take care of him? Perhaps my mother was right about her brother.
I go over to the sink and pull out a dirty pot. I prime the pump a few times until some water runs out. Filling the pot to the top, I walk toward him.
"That might not be a good idea Katniss," Peeta warns.
But I don't care. I've spent the last week and a half doing what would have once been unimaginable to me to get here. And this is the welcome I receive?
I empty the pot of water onto my uncle's head.
"What the hell?" he shouts, jerking awake.
His eyes are crazed as he looks at me.
I take a step back, sure that he's going to throw the typewriter at me because he's already lifting it off the table.
"Uncle Haymich, it's me, Katniss, your niece."
"Katniss?" He blinks several times. "I got your letter, but you never showed up. I figured you weren't coming after all and I'd have to type it up myself."
He sets the typewriter down.
He glares at Peeta, and rubs his temples. "Who in the hell are you?"
"Peeta Mellark."
"Oh really?" His voice takes on a suspicious tone. "Well don't think you're moving in too. I promised my niece a job. Only my niece."
Furious at him for threatening Peeta, I lash out. "He doesn't need a job. He has one with the WPA at Mount Hood. We've been traveling together ever since my purse was stolen and I was kicked off the train."
"How convenient." My uncle's voice drips with sarcasm.
He looks down at himself suddenly as if noticing that his clothes are wet. "I need to change. Do something useful and make me some coffee."
He exits the room, leaving Peeta and I puzzled.
Author's Note: Route 66 was a highway that opened in 1926. It began in Chicago, Illinois, and ran through Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and ended in Santa Monica, California. It was the main route for migrants who traveled west to escape the Dust Bowl.
In February and March of 1936, the Los Angeles Police Department launched what was referred to as a "Bum Blockade" deploying 136 officers to 16 major points of entry to California on the Arizona, Nevada, and Oregon state lines. They turned away migrants with "no visible means of support." Although it was ruled illegal by the state, it was halted only because of the negative publicity and threatened lawsuits of legal residents of the state who found themselves unable to return to their homes after traveling or doing business outside of California.
People escaping the Dust Bowl environmental disaster and the economic woes that faced farmers in the 1930s flocked to the Salinas Valley in California to find farm jobs during The Great Depression. Author John Steinbeck, a native of Salinas, describes their plight in his novel, The Grapes of Wrath.
The price of gold in 1936 was $35 per troy ounce, a price set by President Roosevelt. In 1934, Congress passed the Gold Reserve Act, which prohibited private ownership of gold in the U.S., except for personal jewelry and small quantities that coin collectors and dental practitioners could hold. Owners of gold were required to sell their gold to the government in exchange for cash, or face jail time. It wasn't until 1974, under President Gerald Ford that Americans were permitted to own gold again.
Portland, Oregon, had several Hooverville camps (named for President Herbert Hoover who was in office at the start of The Great Depression in 1929). The camps had housing made from scrap wood, car parts, corrugated tin and cardboard boxes. The largest camp was located under the Ross Island Bridge. It was home to about 300 people.