The man’s head is lowered and he’s heaving sighs and then he looks at me with wet eyes. “Do you know how much he eats?” he asks, pointing at the elephant.
I’m silent, petting the animal’s trunk.
“This ain’t no horse!” the man shouts and then he falls to his knees, crying.
The sounds of the crowd fade and the tent is filled with the crying of the man and I’m standing over him. I feel real bad for this fella, but I really do want the elephant. “Don’t cry,” I says to him. “I’ll pay you for him.”
He stops crying and looks at me.
“I’ll give you two thousand dollars for him.”
He gives me a vacant look.
“Five thousand.”
His eyes open wide.
I look at the elephant and then back to the man. “And ten thousand for that truck you got parked out there.”
He’s frowning. “Who are you kidding? What are you going to do? Write me a check?”
“No,” I says and I kneel down beside him. “I got the cash.”
He looks around at all the silent faces and then he whispers, “You got cash?”
I nod.
He stands up and I do, too. “Let’s step outside,” he says.
I follow him through the back flap of the tent and we’re standing by his truck. I’m looking at the tires.
“You know,” he says, “I’m real attached to that elephant.”
“He got a name?”
“I call him Sabu, sometimes. But like I was saying, I’m real attached—”
“Fifteen thousand,” I says, looking him in the eye.
He looks at the truck and peeks back into the tent at the elephant and then he turns to me. He nods.
Part III
Chapter 16
So, I’m in this truck and I’ve got an elephant in the back and I’m driving into the Cascade mountain range of Oregon. I’m in the vicinity of Mount Hood and I pass through the little town of Parkdale. I drive about a third of the way up this mountain to Lou’s cabin. The cabin is real big and bare and it’s got no electricity. The water comes out of a hand pump, but it’s inside at least. There are a couple of lanterns and a whole stack of candles. The cabin is filled with stuffed animals — there’re a couple of owls hanging from the ceiling and a deer in the corner and a family of squirrels on the windowsill. It’s raining, so I leave the elephant in the truck and hit the sack. It’s just getting dark.
The next morning the sun is out and the birds are singing and the air is thick with the scent of pine. I get out of bed and scratch and it’s real chilly. I walk out and grab a few logs that are stacked and covered with plastic by the front door. I take the wood and start a fire in the potbelly stove in the middle of the cabin. I heat up some water and wash.
When I’m dressed I go and take the elephant out of the truck. I figure that since he’s new to the cabin I should tie him to a tree. That’s what I do — one end of some rope around an ankle, the other around a tree. I fasten him up and stand there for a second, rubbing his trunk. I put the rest of the hay from the truck down in front of the animal and he looks at me like we both should be aware that more hay is needed. I climb into the truck and drive down to Parkdale.
I walk into this little store and there’s this middle-aged fella with buck teeth and a mile of forehead working there.
“You’re new round here, ain’t you?” he asks, showing his big teeth.
“Yeah, I’m staying up at the Tyler place,” I tell him.
“Uh-hmmmmm.”
I gather some things on the counter — things for cooking, and soap, and like that.
“That it?”
I nod.
He looks at the things on the counter. “Looks like about five dollars’ worth.”
I’ve never done business like this before, but I don’t complain. I pay him and he starts putting the stuff in a bag and I ask him where I can get some hay
“How much you need?”
“I don’t know. How much you need for a horse?”
He rubs his chin. “Maybe a quarter ton for a month.”
“I need two tons.”
His eyebrows raise up. “Two?” He scratches his head. “For that much hay you’ll have to go seventy miles. It’s summer.” He looks at me. “How many horses you got up there?”
“I’m going to need some peanuts, too.” I pause. “Fifty … no, a hundred peanuts.”
“What you got up there? An elephant?” He laughs.
I pick up my groceries and leave and I head back up to the cabin. Off the road is a pretty green rolling pasture and in the middle of the pasture is a barn. The barn doors are open and I can see that it’s full of hay. I drive on back to the cabin.
I tie the rope around the elephant’s neck and start walking through the woods. The elephant is following me pretty closely and I don’t have to tug at him at all. So, I untie the animal and he walks right behind me like a dog and I’m just thrilled. We walk up along this ridge and then down and we’re by a small lake. I stop at the edge, but the elephant just steps on past me and into the water. The beast is having a grand old time, splashing around and blowing out of his snout. I look across the lake and I see a couple of people pointing at us. “Sabu!” I call. “Come on, boy!” And I turn around and start walking away and the animal follows.
Once back at the cabin, I start to blow on my saxophone, but every time I let out a note Sabu lets out a blast from his trunk. I stop and look at him and then I try again. Same thing. So, I go inside and blow and he’s outside and he’s still replying. I put my horn away and I cook up some eggs and bacon. As I’m sitting there eating, I keep thinking about all that hay just sitting there in that barn.
Later, when it’s dark, I’m driving the truck down the road toward the barn full of hay. I get out of the truck and open the gate and I continue down this winding dirt road to the barn with my headlights off. I back the truck up to the open barn doors and, in the moonlight, I start loading the truck with hay. The horses are blowing and snorting and stepping back and forth in their stalls. I finish loading the hay and leave.
When I get back to the cabin I drop a load of hay in front of the elephant. He snatches some up with his trunk and puts it in his mouth. Sabu, his name sounds in my head. I decide to change his name and my eyes turn up to find the stars and the moon. The elephant should have a French name. Renoir. I rub his trunk and he’s chewing and I says, “Renoir, Renoir.” That’s a good name. The name of a painter or something, probably a sissy, but it don’t matter none. Renoir.
The night is real quiet and I sit on the ground and lean back against a tree. Renoir lets out a blast and it echoes through the woods. My head falls back and the stars are real bright and I pull my arms over my chest to get warm. It seems like the night is pressing down on me and my eyes close. I fall asleep.
It was the middle of the night and I was coming out of the bathroom when I heard my name. Ma said my name again and I stepped toward Ma and Daddy’s room and listened.
“It’s not the boy’s fault.”
“My mother may never rest in peace.”
“You shouldn’t have pushed his face down on hers.”