"My slingshot," he said.
I picked up the slingshot. "I didn't give it to you," I said. "I'm just showing it to you."
He grabbed it out of my hands. "My slingshot," he said stubbornly.
I knew he couldn't use the slingshot because the rubber bands on it were too strong for a kid his age to pull back.
"I'll make a little slingshot for you," I said.
"I want this one," he said. "My slingshot or I'll tell."
I wasn't about to give up my slingshot, which was made from a perfect Y branch of a cherry tree, even though Papa had told me to humor Frankie and give in to him.
"You'll tell what?" I asked.
"About the ghost," he said.
"But you promised not to tell," I protested.
"I didn't promise not to tell Aunt Bertha," he said smugly.
Boy, oh, boy, this kid was really something. I knew if he told Aunt Bertha that she would tell Papa and Mamma.
"Your slingshot," I said. What else could I do?
He laid it to one side. Then he reached into my box and took out my cap pistol. "My cap pistol," he said, putting it by the slingshot.
"Your cap pistol," I said. Boy, oh, boy, this little conniver made my brother Tom look like The Good Samaritan.
Frankie kept helping himself to my treasures until there was nothing left in the box but my bank.
"My bank," he said as he picked it up.
"Oh, no you don't," I said as I took it away from him. "You can tell Aunt Bertha. You can tell Mamma. You can tell Papa. You can tell the whole world but I'm not going to let you blackmail me out of my life savings. And after you tell them, I'm going to take back all those things."
He thought for a moment. "All right, John, you can keep your bank," he said as if he was doing me a big favor.
Then my little brain got a brilliant idea. "You've had your fun," I said. "Now give me everything back or you'll sleep alone the next full moon."
"No, I won't," he said. "I'll go sleep with your Mamma."
This kid had the answer for everything. He pointed at my box. "My box now," he said. "You don't need it any more."
"Take it," I said.
Then I got a chair and stood on it to put my bank on the top shelf in the clothes closet. I knew Frankie couldn't reach it there. And for all I knew this kid might turn out to be a safecracker as well as a blackmailer. My conscience wasn't bothering me any more for telling Frankie the ghost story. I had paid plenty for telling him a lie.
It had stopped raining by the time dinner was served. Frankie put away more than his share of the roast chicken with giblet gravy, chestnut dressing, mashed potatoes, and peas. He also ate a big piece of angel food cake with ice cream.
I changed into my play clothes after dinner, which we always ate at one o'clock on Sundays. There were two things a kid could do and have a lot of fun after a rainstorm. He could go walking on stilts through rain puddles or go wading through them barefoot.
Mamma stopped me on my way through the kitchen. "Take Frankie with you," she said.
"He can't walk on stilts," I protested. "I'm going walking in the rain puddles."
"Not today you aren't," Mamma said. "I'll change him into some of your old clothes. You can take him for a ride in your wagon through the mud puddles and go barefoot yourself."
"Boy, oh, boy," I said with disgust, "it is getting to where I'm nothing but Frankie's slave around here."
"We don't know what your Uncle Mark is going to find at the Pennyworth farmhouse," Mamma said sharply. "Frankie may only be with us a few more days if your uncle locates some relatives. You will treat Frankie as your own little brother for as long as he is with us."
Mamma had spoiled my afternoon but had given me hope. Uncle Mark was sure to find Frankie had relatives. I was ready on the back porch when Mamma brought Frankie out. I had on knee pants and had my shoes and stockings off to wade barefooted. Mamma had dressed Frankie in some old jeans and shirt of mine.
I got my wagon off the porch. He climbed into it. I pulled him out of the backyard and down the alley to the street. I could see several kids wading through rain puddles on stilts or barefooted. Howard Kay and Jimmie Peterson were both barefooted. They came running through the rain puddles to meet me.
"Is that the kid?" Howard asked, pointing at Frankie.
I figured everybody in town knew about Frankie by now. "Yeah," I said. "His name is Frankie Pennyworth."
Jimmie hitched up his jeans. His mother always bought his clothing one size too big so he could wear clothes for two years. "What a funny name," he said.
Howard Kay laughed. "A penny's worth of what," he said.
Frankie looked at Jimmie. "Your pants are too big and you look funny," he said. Then he looked at Howard. "You've got a funny face," he said.
"Saucy little kid, ain't you?" Howard said.
Just then I saw Seth Smith go riding by on Tom's bike. He was deliberately riding through all the rain puddles he could. No kid who owned a bike would do a thing like that. He would know it would rot the tires and make the sprocket, chain, and spokes rusty.
"Is Sammy renting out Tom's bike on a day like this?" I asked, although I knew the answer.
"Yeah," Howard said. "I saw Danny Forester riding it through the deepest puddles he could find a while ago."
"I'll put a stop to that," I said. Boy, oh, boy, was I angry.
I pulled Frankie to the Smith's vacant lot. Sammy was there with his alarm clock. Five kids were waiting to pay for a ride. I let go of the handle of the wagon and walked up to Sammy.
"You can't rent Tom's bike when the streets are muddy and the kids ride it through puddles," I said. "You'll rot the tires and ruin the sprocket, chain, and spokes."
"What do I care?" Sammy asked with a shrug. "It ain't my bike."
"If it was your bike," I said, "I'll bet you wouldn't even use it yourself on a day like this."
"That is one bet you'd win," Sammy said. "But like I said, it ain't my bike."
"You are a no-good, yellow-bellied cheater," I said.
"Nobody calls me that and gets away with it," Sammy said, handing the alarm clock to Parley Benson. He drew a line in the muddy dirt with the toe of his shoe. "You ain't got your brother Tom here to protect you. Take it back or cross the line."
I knew Sammy was trying to get even with me for the times my brother had whipped him. He was more than a head taller than me and outweighed me plenty. I knew I didn't have a ghost of a chance of beating him. I knew if I crossed the line I'd end up with a bloody nose and a black eye. But I also knew I had to cross that line. For my money Sammy was a no-good, yellow-bellied cheater and I wasn't going to take it back. I took off my jacket and cap and handed them to Howard.
Parley Benson stepped between me and Sammy. "This ain't a fair fight," he said.
"Any fight is a fair fight if a boy steps across the line," Sammy said. "Tell him to take it back or cross the line."
I motioned for Parley to get out of the way. I doubled up my fists and put up my guard as I stepped across the line.
Sammy didn't even bother to take off his cap and jacket, knowing he could whip me easily. He threw a punch at me. I ducked. Then I began slamming away with both fists. I did get in a couple of good punches before Sammy landed a haymaker on my left eye and knocked me down. He jumped on top of me and straddled my body, pinning me down. He scooped up a handful of mud. I knew he was going to make me take back what I'd said or eat it.
I heard Frankie yell, "You leave John alone!" Then Frankie jumped on Sammy's back. He wrapped his arms around Sammy's neck. He got Sammy's right ear between his teeth and bit it. Sammy reached to try to pull Frankie off his back, but Frankie bit him on the hand so hard it made the hand bleed. Then he clamped his teeth on Sammy's ear again.
"Get this kid off me!" Sammy shouted.
None of the kids watching made a move.
"You let John alone or I'll bite your ear off!" Frankie yelled. Then he again clamped his teeth on Sammy's ear.
Sammy jumped to his feet, but Frankie still clung to his back. He tried to grab Frankie's arms. Frankie bit him so hard it made the ear bleed.
I was on my feet by this time. I stepped up to Sammy. He started to raise his hands but dropped them when Frankie bit his ear some more. I let Sammy have a haymaker on the nose so hard it made it bleed. I wanted to hit him some more but it didn't seem fair when he was afraid to hit back.
"Please get him off me," Sammy pleaded.
"Word of honor, you won't try to get even when I'm alone," I said.
"Word of honor," Sammy said quickly.
"Word of honor, no more renting Tom's bike when it rains," I said.
"Word of honor," Sammy cried. "Just get this kid off my back before he bites off my ear. I don't want to go around with just one ear."
Sammy was a bully and a slick one. But I knew if he ever broke his word of honor, no kid in town would have anything to do with him. I stepped behind him and put my hands under Frankie's armpits.
"You can let go now, Frankie," I said.
He let go with his teeth and arms. I lifted him down to the ground. He walked in front of Sammy, who was holding a handkerchief to his ear. The handkerchief was red with blood. Blood was running from his nose. Frankie kicked him on the shins.
"Don't you dare hurt John again," Frankie said, as if he was twice as big as Sammy.
Sammy looked at Parley Benson. "Tell Seth to bring the bike to my house," he said. Then he started to run faster than I'd ever seen him run before.
I learned later that Dr. LeRoy had to take three stitches in Sammy's right ear. The big bully carried the scar for life.
Frankie climbed into the wagon. All the kids just stood there staring at him with their mouths open. It was as if all of them were suddenly paralyzed. I couldn't blame them for being stunned. Every one of them was afraid of Sammy Leeds, except maybe Parley Benson. I couldn't help feeling proud of Frankie as I pulled him in the wagon toward home. Maybe he was a takeover kid when it came to my possessions but he had just proved he liked me well enough to fight for me. And somehow that seemed to make everything even.
I put the wagon on the back porch. Frankie stood looking at it for a moment.
"My wagon," he said.
I was about to tell him the wagon was too big for him but I didn't. "Your wagon," I said.
I had a beaut of a black eye so I had to tell Mamma, Papa, and Aunt Bertha about the fight. Frankie helped me do my chores that afternoon. Uncle Mark came to the house while we were doing them. He had spent the night at the Pennyworth farmhouse. He was talking to Papa when Frankie and I entered the parlor.
Uncle Mark sure looked pleased that Frankie had got rid of the mental block. "Do you remember me?" he asked.
Frankie stared at him for a moment. "You're the man on the horse with the badge," he said.
"Right you are," Uncle Mark said, smiling. Then his face became serious. "Mr. Fitzgerald has told me about the accident. But I want you to tell me all about it, too."
Frankie told him about the same thing he had told me. When he finished, my uncle nodded his head and he looked at Papa.
"I think your deduction about there being two slides is correct," he said. He shook his head sadly. "They might have escaped if Mr. Pennyworth hadn't tried to save the horses."
"They are all deaded," Frankie said.
I wondered why he always said "deaded" instead of "dead." I also wondered why Mamma, who was in the parlor with Aunt Bertha at the time, didn't correct him. If I as much as said "ain't" she corrected me.
"Now, son," Uncle Mark said, tapping a tin box with a lock on it that he was holding on his knees, "I found the marriage license of your mother and father and the government homestead papers in this box at the farmhouse. But I couldn't find any letters from any relatives. Did your mother or father ever mention any relatives who are living?"
"They are all deaded," Frankie said.
Uncle Mark turned to Papa. "According to the marriage license the Pennyworths were married in Sedalia, Missouri. I'll send their marshal a telegram."
Mamma leaned forward in her chair. "What if you fail to find any relatives?" she asked.
"I'll get a court order and sell the farm at auction," Uncle Mark said. "I doubt if it will bring much now that the Red Rock Canyon road can't be used any more. Cathie will be back Thursday. We will talk about Frankie's future then." I knew right then if Uncle Mark didn't find any relatives that he and my aunt Cathie wanted to adopt Frankie. They didn't have any children of their own. My aunt had given birth to a baby girl several years before but the baby had been born dead and my aunt had almost died. Dr. LeRoy had told her and Uncle Mark if they tried to have any more children Aunt Cathie might die.
The next morning I got up and dressed for school.
"Where are you going?" Frankie asked.
"I've got to go to school today," I said.
"Willie didn't have to go to school," he said. "Mamma and Papa taught Willie how to read and write."
"It is different when you live in a town," I said. "The only way a kid can miss one day of school is to have some contagious disease."
"Why don't you get one?" he asked.
"It wouldn't do any good," I said. "Then I'd just have to stay after school and do extra homework until I made up the time I lost."
"I don't want you to go," he said.
"And I don't want to go, but I have to."
Frankie was waiting at the front gate for me when I came home for lunch. He took hold of my hand and held it tight as if he'd missed me. Papa arrived a few minutes later with news. But he didn't tell us until we were eating lunch.
Uncle Mark had dropped in at the Advocate office and told Papa he'd received a telegram from the marshal in Sedalia, Missouri. Frankie was right. His paternal grandparents had died before his father left Missouri. His maternal grandparents had died after his mother left Missouri. His father had a sister who had died when she was a child. His mother had two brothers who had died during a smallpox epidemic. After receiving the telegram, Uncle Mark had got a court order from Judge Potter and the Pennyworth farm would be sold at auction. My uncle had left town to arrange for the auction and would return on Wednesday.
Uncle Mark did return on Wednesday. He had sold the farm lock, stock, and barrel for five hundred dollars. The money was given to Judge Potter to be put in trust at the Adenville bank for Frankie.
Aunt Cathie arrived home on the afternoon train the next day. She came to our house with Uncle Mark right after supper that evening. I guess you would call my aunt beautiful. She has dark brown hair and eyes that seem always to have a sparkle in them. Uncle Mark introduced her to Frankie and he seemed fascinated by her.
"You're pretty," he said.
"Thank you, Frankie," she said as she sat down on the couch beside her husband. "And you are a very handsome young man."
That "young man" pleased him. I could see his chest swell up. And I couldn't help feeling jealous. I knew it was ridiculous to feel jealous of my own aunt but that is how I felt.
Uncle Mark leaned forward. "Do you know what adoption is, Frankie?" he asked.
"I don't think so," Frankie said.
"When a boy's parents are dead," Uncle Mark said, "and he has no living relatives to give him a home, a judge, like Judge Potter, can sign papers letting somebody who isn't a relative adopt the boy. My wife and I want to adopt you. That means when the judge signs the papers I'll legally become your father and Cathie your mother. We have no little boy of our own and would love to have you for our son. We promise to love you and take care of you just the same as if you were our own son. Do you understand?"
Frankie stared at Uncle Mark for a moment. "You mean you want to be my new papa and my new mamma?" he asked.
Aunt Cathie nodded her head. "Yes, dear, please," she said.
"And I would have to go live in your house instead of here?" Frankie asked.
"That is right," Uncle Mark said.
Mamma leane
d forward and smiled at Frankie. "Mark and Cathie can't have any children unless they adopt them. They want to adopt you very much. You will make them happy and they will make you happy."
Me & My Little Brain Page 7