Struggles of a Country boy

by Herb Blanchard

  Out on the middle of the dam they were balancing carefully on the slippery hunks of granite which were once part of the old spillway. Brad was leading Ginny, by the hand she had refused to release, towards the deep black water at the center of the dam.

  Brad led her across the dam and up onto a small sunlight knoll overlooking the upper millpond and the covered bridge.

  They stood amongst the pungent ferns on a patch of soft mossy grass for several minutes before Ginny finally broke the silence.

  "How did you find this place, Brad? It's so pretty."

  Ginny slipped Brad's jacket off of her shoulders and dropped it on to the ground. She stepped closer to him.

  He was fascinated by the golden hue of her shoulders as the jacket slipped down her arms and fell onto the ground. She shrugged slightly to make the straps of her black nylon swimsuit slip off her shoulders. The velvety white skin on the upper part of her breasts lay exposed to the warm sun and his eyes.

  "Your pants are all wet. Are you going to take them off?"

  Ginny took another step closer smiling and reaching for the waistband of his pants.

  Brad felt her soft curves under his hands..

  Brad felt great as he let the remnants of his early morning dream fade in and out of his conscious mind. The bare wood floor was cool on his feet, but he didn't feel it. Quietly slipping into his clothes he smiled in anticipation of what the day held in store for him.

  He could hear his mother's strange sleep noises coming from the twin bed behind him as he quietly closed the bedroom door behind him.

  Damn! Why does she sleep in my room?

  At around 0700 Brad heard his father get up and a short while ago the aroma of fresh brewing coffee drifted down the hallway.

  "Morning Dad." Brad spoke when he stepped into the kitchen.

  "Brad. Where are you going so early? Are you working for Charlie today?"

  This was more than his father had said to him all week.

  "No. Charlie and Joanna are going somewhere this afternoon."

  Brad finished pouring his coffee before turning to face his father who was sitting at the kitchen table.

  "He'll probably be here in a few minutes." Brad added.

  "It's too early, Brad. He won't be here until nine."

  "He's going away. He said he'd come early."

  "No, he won't! He never gets here before nine on Sunday's. You know that, Brad."

  "He has to be in Wilmet by ten. There is no way he can be here at nine and get cleaned up to be in Wilmet at ten!" Brad bit his lip and turned away. He could see the fire in his father's eyes, and he knew he would never win. Brad also thought he had already said too much about Charlie's business.

  "I'm going fishing. I asked you and Mom last night and you said I could."

  Brad felt defensive. He knew he had to get away before he said more and got into deeper trouble.

  Maybe I should have told him I was going with Charlie. Now he is going to get mad and not let me go anywhere.

  Brad watched his father's face to see if he was getting angrier or if he had chosen to forget about it.

  "I'm going to drive to Lynd and get a Sunday paper. Do you want to go, Brad?"

  Obviously, his father had decided to drop the whole thing.

  “No thanks. I’m going to cut down to the railroad track and fish down to the trestle.”

  "You stay off that trestle. Someday the train will catch you on it."

  Brad nodded in agreement.

  He doesn't even know the train only makes one round trip a day on regular work days and never comes during weekends. Besides it only goes about 30 mph.

  How come you're in such a rush?" His father asked as he was climbing into the old Chevie and Brad was starting across the road..

  "No reason. Just want to go fishing before it gets hot." Brad answered with a smile playing across his mouth. Small bits and pieces of his dream were still playing around in his head.

  TEN

  Brad's .22 rifle hung across his back on its’ homemade sling, and he held his fishing rod in his left hand. The barely visible trail leading up from the creek to the tracks was steep and dangerous with loose gravel and rocks. The surplus WWII gas mask case hooked to his belt held his worm can, spare hooks, a few flies and leader material as well as an extra box of .22 shells that he had bought with the proceedings from his last porcupine hunt. The case hung awkwardly and slapped his thigh with every step but wasn’t heavy enough to affect his balance.

  When he reached the railroad tracks at the end of the trestle, Brad had started gathering an arm load of creosoted wood chips left over from some track and tie maintenance. For a few minutes he had tossed the chips from the trestle into the rapids seventy or eighty feet below and tried to hit them with the Springfield semi-automatic he now owned. The tubular fed .22 rifle was used and a common model so Brad had been able to work out a deal he could afford.

  Immediately after he got the rifle, he figured out how he could empty the fifteen round magazine with a quick squeeze of the trigger. Four squeezes and he would shoot more than a box shells.

  He didn't want to shoot up anymore of his .22 shells so Brad just continued to sit on the wooden train trestle listening to the roar of the creek below and watching the pile of huge granite boulders which were part of the railroad grade across the creek. A woodchuck had a hole amongst the boulders and he was lazily watching and half hoping the grizzled rodent would climb up onto the dirt stained rock it habitually sunbathed on.

  He couldn't hear her above the sounds of rushing water but the flash of white through the brush on the downstream side of the track caught his eye. When he turned to watch, his brown and white mongrel charged up the bank towards the woodchuck hole he had been looking at seconds before. A small cloud of yellow dust rose from the dirt in front of the hole and Brad knew the chuck had just slid back down the bank and into the safety of its den as the fast moving dog approached.

  Shit! Where was that damn thing. I didn't see it in those rocks.

  Brad was disgusted with himself for not getting a shot and took it out on his dog.

  "Come on dog! Rusty! Get over here!" He hollered above the roar of the rushing creek. The loyal dog ran up the bank at the sound of her master's voice. She scampered onto the railroad embankment but stopped at the trestle. She looked down between the ties at the rushing white foam below and whined quietly to herself.

  "Come on! Get over here you bitch!"

  He waited a moment, then thinking about the time, jerked his Big Ben out of his pocket. It was eleven-thirty and he had over two miles to go.

  Brad turned away from his dog and started trotting up the tracks towards the millpond.

  In less than a minute Brad stopped and turning to look over his shoulder. His friend was still on the other side of the trestle. Without a thought he started back to help her.

  "Come on." He reached down and ruffled her neck fur before grabbing her chain collar. Dog and master went through this struggle every time they tried to cross the trestle. Brad knew once she got several feet out onto the trestle Rusty would run to the safety of the other side.

  Within minutes he could barely see her white feathered tail swishing back and forth. She was a quarter of a mile or so ahead of him searching the railroad grade for animal trails.

  His leg muscles were protesting the uneven gait he had been maintaining while he trotted on the railroad ties between the tracks. They were not spaced evenly and hard to hit an even stride on. When the pain became too severe and his legs started screaming about the abuse Brad tried to balance on the iron rail itself. For a few yards it worked fine. As he increased speed he lost his balance more often. After he slipped off of the rail several more times he dropped back onto the uneven wooden ties.

  When Brad passed the trail leading to his house he had a quick look of his dog heading for her dinner dish.

  He was down to a fast walk on the
worn footpath in the soft and crumbled track ballast when he came around the corner and into sight of the millpond.

  Charlie's green Ford was parked under the shade of the birches and alders growing around the pond. Brad could see Charlie swimming in the mill pond. Someone whom he was sure was Joanna Bishop was sitting in the sun on one of the many granite boulders along the bank. Though he was disappointed when he didn't see anyone else with his friends Brad hurried along the trail. He turned towards the Ford when he reached the place where the path and road intersected.

  "There he is.

  Hello, Brad." Joanna called out and started to walk towards him.

  What a body. Gee. Brad watched the graceful sway of her hips and the slight jiggle of her breasts under the tight two piece swimsuit she wore. A bit of tanned, hard belly showed above her brief bathing suit bottom. She stopped less than a foot in front of Brad and in her bare feet he realized she was slightly shorter than he was in his hunting boots.

  I'm as tall as she is. With a smile, he looked down into her eyes. In the bright mid-day sun the red highlights showed in her brown hair which she had pulled back into a ponytail and the ends were still wet from swimming.

  "How's the water? Cold, I'll bet. The upper pond is warmer than this one."

  "Hi, Brad. It is cold. I only stayed in about three minutes, but Charlie has been in and out for a half hour. Is there any beach or place to get in to the upper pond?"

  "No. It's real shallow and muddy even behind Simpson's house.

  "Sorry I'm late. I went too far down the tracks early this morning."

  "Your not too late. We've been waiting lunch for you. Are you hungry?"

  "Got your swim suit on, Brad? Come in and get cooled off!" Charlie hollered from the middle of the pool.

  "Okay. I'll be just a minute. Is the trunk open? I want to put my rifle and fly rod in there."

  "No, but Joanna knows were the keys are."

  After she had unlocked and raised the trunk lid Joanna took a Sears shopping bag out of the trunk which she handed to Brad with a smile.

  "They're yours, Brad. I hope they fit. I've already washed and shrunk them hoping they'll fit OK."

  After laying his gear carefully in the trunk he took the offered bag and took out the first pair of Levi's he had every owned, along with a red, yoke front cowboy shirt with small round mother of pearl buttons down the front.

  "I'll take them. You can try them on after your swim." Joanna took the shopping bag and left Brad to get ready to go in the water.

  Scrambling up into the box-elder was the easy part. Now he stood on the huge limb the swinging rope was tied to. The surface of the dark, tannic saturated water was nearly twenty feet below him. Brad was sure nothing lay in ambush under the sun streaked pool. Many times he had swam and dove there with the French brothers and none of them had ever found the bottom or even a rock within reach of the surface.

  While he appeared to be looking down at the water he looked through the tops of his eyes out to where Charlie and Joanna drifted lazily along with the current. He knew they were watching him too.

  Wasn't that why he had climbed so high? So they could watch him make a fantastic dive out of the tree?

  God! This is scary. I've never been this high before except to tie the rope on. Even then he had felt uncomfortable being so high above the dark water.

  Should I cannonball or just dive?

  Brad's leg muscles catapulted him off of the limb and out of the green leaves. He arched smoothly into a swan dive before tucking his head between his shoulders and bringing his hands together in front of him a flash before he entered the water like a sharp pointed knife.

  Down into the black water. It closed over him like a dark shroud while the trail of silver bubbles tickled up his legs. After an explosion of golden light the sun faded to nothing behind him.

  When he felt his momentum slowing Brad started strongly frog kicking and with powerful strokes from his slim arms he pulled himself deeper into the black void than he had ever been before.

  Brad thought of his early morning dream as an omen. He twisted his body upward. Paused to let himself drift upward before he started to pull himself up through the dark water.

  He reached for the gold and silver dancing light and in a ball of hot expelled air broke through the surface and gulped a huge mouthful of fresh, hot summer air!

  Breathless he kicked for the shore.

  After clambering up on the hot granite boulders he stopped to catch his breath. I'll bet no one ever went that deep before. Brad thought to himself with some pride.

  "Brad! Are you ready to eat?" Charlie hollered above the rush of the millrace water.

  "I'll be there in a second." Brad managed to holler while he worked himself up into a sitting position on the gray boulder.

  He was still feeling a bit unsteady when he walked slowly along the trail towards the car.

  "Thank you for the jeans and shirt, Charlie. I've never had a pair of Levi's before. Mom said they were too expensive and were the same as the dungarees she bought for me, but I don't think so. They're really neat!"

  "You earned them with all the work you have done for me, Brad. I just wish I could do more for you. Joanna helped me get them and like she said it was her idea to wash them so they'd be shrunk and you could wear them today."

  "Are you guys ready to go? The Simpsons were expecting us an hour or so ago."

  ELEVEN

  She was small but not necessarily the smallest woman Brad had ever known. He would be able to easily see over her head if she hadn't put her shiny coal black hair up like the Japanese women in the National Geographic. Instead of a kimono and carrying a parasol, she was dressed in light blue shorts which were fitted enough to show off her shapely figure and a light yellow silk blouse.

  "I am Yoshiko Tamaka Simpson. And since my family all seems to have deserted me, let me welcome you to our home."

  Brad stood speechless beside Joanna as this lovely Japanese woman who spoke perfect English took them into her heart and made them part of her family.

  He watched as she gracefully and with self confidence stepped forward to take Charlie's right hand in her left and Joanna’s right hand in her right hand. Her deep brown eyes were just like Elinor's and she moved with the same graceful movements as he had seen Elinor do so many times.

  "Please. Everyone except my daughters calls me Yoshi. I'm afraid we're just normal Americans and the girls call me Mom."

  "Mother? Did I hear a car?"

  "Usually she calls me Mom." Yoshi corrected herself and smiled. The smile turned to a sweet quiet laugh.

  "Yes, Dear. Our guests have arrived."

  "Oh great. Brad have you met my mom."

  The pretty young girl who came from the back of the ranch house appeared to be a slightly larger version of her mother. When she stood beside Yoshi, Brad could see the age difference between the women, but Elinor's mother just did not look like a mother to him.

  The girl was dressed in a blue one piece sun suit trimmed with white anchors and thin white stripes. She had her shoulder length black hair pulled back into a ponytail tied back with a bright red thong.

  Elinor gave her mother a quick hug before throwing her arms around Brad and hugging him fiercely.

  "Mom. This is my best friend from 'good old Wilmet High', Brad Burgess."

  With one arm still around Brad, Elinor went on.

  "My new friend Joanna Bishop. If you haven't guessed Mom, Joanna teaches at the high school. I think she spends most of her time trying to keep Brad and others like him out of trouble and get them ready to face the cruel world.

  "But you, dear Sir?" Elinor addressed Charlie before she smiled and looked askew at Joanna.

  "This is my friend. You know Elinor, I work on Charlie's farm!" Brad jumped in and introduced Charlie. Quietly he added. "He and Joanna are friends too. I introduced them!"

  Brad felt the heat
of his blush run up and across his neck to inflame his ears.

  Why did I say that? Why couldn't I keep my mouth shut?

  He looked around to cover his embarrassment, avoiding everyone's eyes as he tried to seek escape within himself.

  "We have just started seeing each other and as Brad said he introduced us for which I am grateful." Joanna jumped in to extract Brad once again.

  "In Joslin's hardware store no less." Charlie laughed his quiet pleasing laugh.

  "Please, let's go into the backyard. I believe my husband is around there messing with the barbecue or some such thing.

  "Where is your sister, Elinor? Reading again I'll bet."

  "Wrong this time, Moms. Listen."

  "It's too hot to play basketball! Is that really what your sister is doing? I swear, that girl ended up with some Japanese blood in her. She's so competitive."

  Brad listened to the thump of the ball on concrete and tried to find the source with his ears but the echoes around the light brown house and up and down the nearby creek made it impossible to pinpoint where she was.

  She's on the other side of the garage, Brad. You can go around this way if you want." Elinor pointed towards the white trimmed double door garage which was a miniature of the ranch house.

  "That's okay. I want to see your dad's new bow. He told Ginny I could shoot it today."

  "Come on Dad's around here." Smiling to herself Elinor led Brad away from the adults and towards the far back corner of the spacious backyard.

  "Well, hello, Brad! I'm glad you finally made it."

  "Hi, Bud. How ya doing."

  Brad didn't know Bud very well and it had been quite a while since he had seen him. Unlike his daughters Bud had blue eyes and light brown hair. And he was big. Bigger even than Charlie who weighed around one hundred and eighty pounds and stood just a hair under six foot. Watching Bud come towards him Brad surmised he weighed a bit over two hundred pounds with just a little fat on his six foot two inch frame.

  He offered Brad a huge hand. "Come on this way, Brad. I've got a hunting range set up here in the pucker brush."

  The big soft spoken man led Brad away from the creek and down a short hill which faced the gravel road. Bud's bow, quiver and a rack of target arrows sat on what Brad first thought was a picnic table. As they approached the table Brad realized that it was a rugged shooting bench and Bud had also built a rifle range against the hill.