The Madman of Piney Woods

by Christopher Paul Curtis

  I laughed.

  “You owe it to yourself to give it a try, Alvin. If you can get her to tell you about those days, you might have a better understanding, or maybe even a bit of sympathy, for why she is the way she is.”

  “But, Father …”

  “No, Alvin, you must talk to her. She’s seen times you and I couldn’t imagine, in Ireland, on the ship over, and even once she arrived in Chatham. But you need to be patient with her to get her to talk. Just try asking her once.” Father smiled. “Remember, lad, ’tis not a tree in heaven higher than the tree of patience. Will ye give it a try? For your poor old father’s sake?”

  “But, Father, can’t we hire someone to come watch over her? She’s getting worse every day.”

  “Hire someone! Son, I’m just a judge; you know we barely get by on my salary.”

  “I nearly fell into the boiling potatoes, Father. Are we going to wait until she kills me?”

  “I don’t think it’s that bad, Alvin. You’ve just got to be careful and more watchful when she’s around.”

  “She’s as sly as a fox, Father. I only catch her sneaking up on me half the time.”

  Father laughed. “Well, then, I have the perfect solution. Do you remember your mother’s old cat, Paws?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Paws was a true terror. He’d bring back dead animals every day as gifts for your mother. She was mortified! That cat was the scourge of every bird and mouse and even rabbit in the neighbourhood. Do you know what we finally had to do with him?”

  I knew that some barbaric people will tie unwanted kittens in bags filled with stones and throw them in the river. But I could see there would be problems with doing that to Grandmother O’Toole. Even though she was extremely old and at times acted as though she was extremely confused, I thought it would be difficult to get her to go to the river’s edge, then willingly climb into a bag filled with stones.

  She was simply not that confused.

  I laughed to myself; the worst asylum would be far better and more humane than that.

  “No, sir, I don’t know what you did with Paws. But I know Mother would never have harmed an animal.”

  “And you’re right. We put a bell on him and that solved everything! He couldn’t sneak up on a sleeping mouse with cotton in its ears with the racket he made.”

  Father narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side as though he was deep in thought.

  “There it is! Perhaps we should bell Mother O’Toole! Maybe then she couldn’t ambush you.”

  Father constantly tries to make me laugh. He almost always succeeds. And even though I knew what he was doing, it worked. Regardless of the fact that my head was home to a new bump, my mood lightened.

  I said, “But that leads us to the question: Who, then, shall bell the grandmother?”

  Father smiled, felt around the silvery crown of his head, and said, “I don’t seem to have any lumps on my head, so it seems to me that you have more skin in the game than I. Therefore, the job falls to you.”

  Father may have been joking, but this wasn’t a bad idea. I could buy a necklace with a small bell and give it to her as a gift.

  But that would never happen. Grandmother O’Toole would never accept any kind of gift from me.

  She would only begrudgingly accept one from Father. She’d had but one pair of shoes since I could remember. Even though Father had bought her several new pairs, they’d sat for years under her bed. She kept them polished but had never worn them. She had her old shoes resoled again and again.

  “They’re perfectly good for now,” she would say.

  What could I do but wait as Father asked? For the sake of Mother’s memory, I could be patient for another week or two.

  The moon didn’t need to be out for me to see that Patience and Stubby were up to no good.

  I said, “Guess what.”

  Patience said, “What?”

  “You two had better get home fast. Even as we speak, the Madman of Piney Woods has gone berserk in the forest.”

  Her eyes rolled.

  I laughed. “Don’t believe me, then. Go home; ask the Miller twins. They’re behind the couch, shaking like wet bunnies. I’m walking over to get their folks to take them home.”

  Stubby said, “They really saw the Madman?”

  “Not really, they saw a hundred tied-up children with bags over their heads, laughing and being led away by demons. They just guessed the children were being taken to the Madman.”

  Patience’s hand covered her mouth, but it wasn’t from fear. They looked at each other, and I sensed that the flour sack behind Stubby’s back wasn’t the only thing they were hiding.

  I put my hand out. “The sack.”

  Stubby hesitated.

  I said, “The twins really did see something, and you two know what it was. Give me the sack or I’ll hurt both of you.”

  Stubby knew I was serious and handed over the sack.

  Patience stamped her foot and gave him a dirty look.

  Inside the sack were five or six folded pillowcases, a long rope, a hollowed reed flute, a one-foot-by-one-foot piece of tin, and a wooden spoon.

  “Explain.”

  Pay said, “You have to swear not to tell Mother and Father.”

  “What did the twins see?”

  Stubby said, “Promise you won’t tell.”

  I crossed my fingers and said, “I swear.”

  Pay said, “Give me the sack back.”

  Neither one of them could be trusted, especially Patience. The looks that Patience gave me could send cold shivers through my heart. And there was the problem of that knife she always had near at hand.

  I handed the sack to Stubby. “You show me.”

  He dug into the sack, then reached into one of the pillowcases. He pulled out a stack of papers and handed one to me. It must have been printed at Miss Cary’s shop in Chatham.

  “Explain yourselves.”

  Stubby said, “Benji, you won’t believe it, but we built a tree house in the woods and some way it got turned upside down. It happened when we went to Toronto with Father.”

  Patience gasped. She’d put one and one together. I could see her getting madder and madder.

  “Go on,” I said before Pay had a chance to get too worked up.

  Stubby said, “We decided the best thing we could do was to try to make something good from all of our work. We charge a penny for anyone to go into our upside-down tree house.”

  The little crooks! They were inviting all sorts of people into my woods! And making money from doing it!

  “We only take six people at a time, not a hundred. We can control six real easy.”

  “But how would they not see where you’d taken them and then just come back with their friends to see it for free?”

  Pay said, “That’s what those rat twins saw. We put pillowcases over our customers’ heads so they can’t see, and then, so they won’t rip the cases off to get a peek, we tie their hands behind their backs. Then we make them hold on to a rope and follow us.”

  “People pay you to do this to them?”

  “We give them their money back if they don’t have fun.”

  My brother and sister are geniuses! Tricky little geniuses!

  Stubby started running his mouth, bragging almost. “We walk them in circles for a while so they don’t know what direction we’re going in. Once they’re confused, we lead them to the tree house, then we take the pillowcases off their heads. We only do it at dusk because it makes everything scarier, and with no sun up, it’s impossible for them to tell where they are in the forest.”

  Pay hissed at him and he shut up.

  “And the demons the twins saw?”

  “That was us. We do that to make it more mysterious and fun.”

  “And this flute and this piece of tin were the music you enchanted them with?”

  Patience said, “That’s nonsense; those twins are idiots.”

  “How much money do you make doi
ng this?”

  They hesitated and I lunged at their ears.

  Stubby blurted out, “Twenty-five pence a week.”

  “What?”

  “On a good week, thirty or forty pence. Kids have been coming all the way from Chatham to see.”

  My anger and disappointment at what little crooks my siblings were turned to something else.

  “Well, since you are using my woods, you need to pay rent.”

  They whispered back and forth a bit before Patience said, “How much?”

  “Fifteen pence a week.”

  Stubby jumped like he was going to attack me.

  Patience said, “Wait, Timothy. You must trust me.”

  She said to me, “Do you promise not to bother us in any way if we pay?”

  “Of course. There are more important things in the life of a newspaperman than childish nonsense like this.”

  She stuck her hand out. “Ten cents; not a penny more.”

  I shook her hand. It’s sort of frightening that a little girl’s hand can be so calloused and rough.

  I said, “And I will need a week’s rent in advance.”

  Stubby drew back again.

  Patience turned her back to me, reached into the pocket of her dress, and turned toward me again. She opened a small pouch and counted out ten pennies!

  Being a landlord is great!

  I pretended I tipped a hat at them, took a big bow, and said, “It’s a pleasure doing business with my two new partners. Give me a hug, you little scalawags! There’s something very special about being in business with your own family, isn’t there?”

  Neither one of them would embrace their new partner.

  I put the ten pennies in my pocket and continued my walk to the Miller twins’ house. A nagging voice told me I should pay more thought to the angry look on Pay’s face.

  The night’s headline would read:

  TWO HEADS BETTER THAN ONE? NOT ALWAYS!!

  When it comes to Father, I’d learned that all I had to do was wait and even the oddest circumstances would be shown to have a rational explanation.

  It had been a week since Grandmother O’Toole caned me in the kitchen, and the small hammer next to Father’s plate at supper was definitely an odd circumstance. I’d be like the tallest tree in heaven and patiently wait to find out why it was there. Grandmother O’Toole eyed it suspiciously as well. But both of us held our tongues.

  We finished eating and I cleared the table. Father winked at me, then slid a blue-ribboned Hirsh Jewelers box across the table to Grandmother O’Toole.

  “Chester Stockard, what in the heavens is this?”

  “Something to show a little appreciation for all you do around here, Mother O’Toole. I know it’s not easy looking after Alvin and me, and I know at times it may seem we take you for granted, but nothing’s further from the truth. Both of us appreciate you from the cockles of our hearts.”

  I was glad Father didn’t ask me to agree with that statement. The cockles of my heart agreed with me; Grandmother O’Toole needed to go to an asylum.

  “Oh, Chester laddie, ye shouldn’t’ve. What have I done to deserve a gift? Spending me every waking hour watching over this lazy chowderhead of a grandson is me duty, and though it fills me with dread each morn when I awake, and even though it’s cutting years off me very life, ye’ve never heard me complain, have ye? Aye, Chester, ’tis me duty to my poor dear departed daughter Mary, not the sort of thing to be given such a grand present for.” She turned the small box over and over. “From Hirsh Jewelers no less? How did ye afford this, son?”

  Father smiled. “I saw it in their window and knew, regardless of the price, it had been made for my beloved Mother O’Toole and I had to have it. Go ahead, open the box.”

  Her trembling hands took the blue bow off, then opened the blue clamshell box. She gasped and pulled a large postage-stamp-sized silver bell from the blue felt inside. There was a four-leaf clover and the word ERIN fancily engraved on one side of the bell.

  “Oh, Chester! ’Tis far too grand for such a poor old woman as I! ’Tis beautiful! And mercy, do me eyes deceive me? ’Tis really Irish?”

  “That’s what it says. I’m glad you like it, Mother O’Toole.”

  “But what is it?”

  She turned it over and over, studying the bell with great curiosity. “I’m not one to complain, but there’s no loop to thread a necklace through. And alas, though ’tis as fine a bell as I’ve ever beheld, I’ve never seen any jewelry with a nail at the end where ye’d be expecting to see a loop.”

  She looked at Father and asked, “ ’Tis some new fashion one of these wretched Canadians has started?”

  Father said, “No. Word is it’s from the north of Ireland, Mother O’Toole. They call it a cane bell. They say every time it rings, another sin is washed clean away from the soul of a poor Irishman.”

  “No! And you say in the north ’tis known as a cane bell?”

  “Truly.”

  Father took her cane and picked up the small hammer he’d brought to the table. After a few taps, the bell dangled from the end of the cane’s handle.

  Father shook the cane, and the light tinkling sound assured us that a whole gaggle of Irishmen had gotten away with something.

  Grandmother O’Toole hugged the cane with its new bell to her chest.

  “ ’Tis is the most glorious gift I’ve ever been given, son. Thank ye from the bottom of me heart. Every time it rings, ’twill remind me of what a grand decision me Mary made in choosing ye for her spouse.”

  She looked at me and snarled, “Do ye see how a true gentleman behaves, ye little redhead hooligan? Do ye?”

  I smiled and looked at my father.

  “Yes, Grandmother O’Toole, I do see. And I’ll be praying every night that someday I can be as grand a gent as he.”

  Two mornings after I became a landlord, I walked into the kitchen and knew trouble was in the air. Mother, Father, Pay, and Stubby sat at the kitchen table without speaking. No one returned my good-morning greetings.

  Like any good newspaperman, I surveyed the scene. One of the oddest things was the opened cookie jar sitting in the middle of the table.

  Father pointed at my chair. “Sit.”

  This wasn’t good. Mother and Father were very tense. Patience and Stubby had their eyes cast down, traces of something I couldn’t read on their faces. I wondered if they’d snitched on me for charging them rent.

  But no, this had to be about some mischief that involved the cookie jar. My fears eased when I realized I had no worries; it had been months since I’d last taken a cookie without permission. Well, maybe it had been weeks. But it had been long enough ago to have been noticed before now.

  These were turning out to be really bad days for Stubby and Patience! Not only did they have an upside-down tree house and a new partner they didn’t want, they were also about to face Mother and Father’s anger for stealing cookies. I hoped they would deny doing it. That would make their punishment all the more severe!

  I was surprised when Mother said, “Patience and Timothy, you are excused.”

  As she rose from the table, with her back to Mother and Father, Pay fought to keep her face straight. She widened her eyes and pursed her lips in a long silent whistle directed at me. Stubby wiggled his eyebrows.

  I was confused.

  Mother said, “Well, Benjamin?”

  “How many did they steal, Mother? I thought I saw crumbs on their pyjamas the other night before they went to bed and wondered what nonsense they’d been up to. I’m shocked! Who would have thought they’d –”

  Father’s hand slammed on the table. Me, the cookie jar, and the silverware all jumped.

  He said, “You wanna know what that’s good for? That’s good for a week in the Amen Corner!”

  I was thrilled! Even though they called it a time for learning, the Amen Corner was the worst punishment Mother and Father could give. Patience and Stubby would have to spend their every spare minute for
a whole week sitting in the corner of the parlour with their backs turned to us while they read the Bible!

  We only have one Bible, but that shouldn’t be a problem. I could run over to the Alexanders’ home. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind letting us borrow theirs for a week.

  I decided then and there that even though Stubby and Patience weren’t going to be giving expeditions to our Charming Little Chalet in the Woods for a week, they would not be excused from paying their rent. I hoped they’d saved some cash.

  I tried not to sound too excited when I told Father, “A whole week? That seems a bit on the harsh side, Father?”

  The cookie jar, me, and the silverware jumped a second time when Mother’s hand slammed on the table! She said, “Enough, Benjamin! You deserve every minute of this punishment and even more!”

  What?

  “Me?”

  There was a terrible mistake being made here.

  “Mother, what do you mean? I didn’t take any cookies, I swear!”

  Father said, “One more word out of you and …”

  I’d always told myself that one day I was going to be brave enough to find out what the and means that Father always dangles at the end of a threat.

  Today was not that day.

  Mother said, “I found three of the cookies under your clothes hidden in your chiffonier, Benjamin. And crumbs all over your pillow and sheets. We will tolerate neither thievery nor lying in this house. Two dozen cookies? Shame on you. Did you take them and give them to your friends?”

  “What? Of course not!”

  Father said, “Then you’ve committed the mortal sin of gluttony as well. Ten days!”

  There is no feeling as rotten as being convicted of a crime that you had nothing to do with. Later, once the bitter anguish began to fade and I sat in the Amen Corner with the Bible in my lap, I started to understand what had happened.

  Patience!

  This was her doing. This was the price she was making me pay for becoming their landlord.

  Well, she and Stubby were about to get a very unpleasant surprise. When my ten days of Bible reading were done, I was going to smash Charming Little Chalet in the Woods into enough kindling to set the world on fire!