On the Road to Mr. Mineo's

by Barbara O'Connor

  Mutt headed toward the narrow road to the lake.

  He used to walk right up the middle of that road just because he could. There were almost never any cars. Once in a while somebody drove up to the bait shop, but not very often. Then one time his father had driven up behind him in his truck. He had slammed on the brakes, jumped out of the truck, yanked Mutt by the collar, and hollered, “Don’t you never walk in the middle of the road no more. You hear me?”

  So Mutt almost never did.

  As he got closer to the lake, he looked up into the morning sky.

  No pigeon.

  When he turned down the path that led to his favorite fishing spot, way back in a secluded cove, he looked up again.

  No pigeon.

  He sat on a rock by the edge of the lake and waited.

  No pigeon.

  Before long, he got bored. He should have brought his fishing rod.

  The sun climbed higher in the sky. A dragonfly flitted around in front of him and landed on the rock. He tossed a pebble into the lake. It landed with a ploink that made the dragonfly dart away.

  And then …

  … a one-legged pigeon landed on his head.

  Mutt grabbed for the pigeon with both hands.

  But the pigeon flapped his wings wildly and soared off into the morning sky, disappearing over the treetops.

  Mutt stomped his feet.

  Dang.

  Dang.

  Dang.

  He was more determined than ever to catch that pigeon.

  And when he did, everyone would see that he had been telling the truth.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Morning on Main Street

  Luther helped Edsel unload the produce from his white delivery van.

  Lettuce.

  Onions.

  Celery.

  Then they set up the checker game on top of the milk crate and began to play. Every now and then rainwater dripped from the awning overhead onto the checkerboard.

  They didn’t even look up when Tollie Sanborn unlocked the door of the barbershop across the street and went inside.

  Old Mrs. Banner, who worked at the bank, parked her shiny Cadillac in her usual spot and clomped past Luther and Edsel in her thick-soled shoes.

  She nodded to them as she passed, her mouth set in a thin, sharp line.

  Luther and Edsel nodded back.

  When she disappeared inside the bank, Edsel muttered, “Battle-ax,” his eyes still on the checkerboard.

  Luther chuckled.

  One by one, the residents of Meadville came out onto the rain-soaked sidewalks of Main Street to start their days while Luther and Edsel concentrated on their checker game.

  Jolene Hawkins carried an overflowing basket of clothes into the Laundromat.

  Dwight Malcolm hung the flag out in front of the post office.

  Bitsy Patterson hollered “Hurry up!” to her two runny-nosed children as she hurried into the pharmacy.

  Cars drove by and windows opened and cats stretched in the morning sun.

  Children rode their bikes through puddles along the edge of the street, sending sprays of dirty water onto the sidewalks.

  But Luther and Edsel didn’t pay much attention to anything except their game.

  In fact, they didn’t even notice when a little brown dog trotted right past them and turned up the alley, while a one-legged pigeon sat on the rain-soaked awning above them.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Stella Smells a Rat

  Stella rode her bike up and down the streets of Meadville, searching for the one-legged pigeon. Gerald rode along behind her.

  “Are you looking?” she kept calling back to him.

  “Yes,” he kept saying.

  But Stella could tell he wasn’t.

  Suddenly, Stella stopped. “Shhhh,” she said to Gerald. She ducked behind the pecan tree in front of the pharmacy and pointed. Gerald wiped his forehead with his shirttail, exposing his flabby white stomach, and looked in the direction she was pointing.

  Levi and C.J. and Jiggs were gathered on the sidewalk in front of the post office.

  There was someone with them.

  Stella squinted.

  Mutt Raynard!

  What was he doing here?

  He almost never came into town.

  He stayed out there with all those wild Raynard kids who lived in the cluster of ramshackle houses.

  Stella glared up the sidewalk at Levi and the others. “I smell a rat,” she said.

  “How come?” Gerald scratched at his splotchy red neck.

  “That’s Mutt Raynard.”

  “I hate him,” Gerald said.

  “I bet you anything they’re talking about that pigeon,” Stella said. “I bet Levi is asking Mutt to help him. Mutt’ll do anything. He’s crazy.”

  “Yeah,” Gerald said. “He’s crazy.”

  Stella shook her head. “I smell a rat.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The Lie That Levi Loved

  Gerald Baxter eats dirt. He crawls up under the hydrangea bushes with a spoon in his back pocket. He hunkers down against the cool, moss-covered bricks of his house and scrapes and scrapes at the dry dirt.

  He puts the dirt into his mouth and chews and chews.

  “No way!” Levi said when Mutt told him that glorious lie.

  Levi loved a good lie, and Mutt told the best ones in Meadville.

  “So that means Gerald Baxter has worms,” Levi said, “because eating dirt gives you worms.”

  C.J. and Jiggs hooted and hollered and slapped their scabby knees, laughing up a storm.

  Then Levi told Mutt about the one-legged pigeon.

  Mutt raised his eyebrows.

  “And we’ve got to catch that thing before Stella and Wormy do,” Levi said.

  C.J. and Jiggs hooted and hollered again.

  “So if you see it,” Levi went on, “catch it and bring it to us, okay?”

  “I saw that pigeon,” Mutt said.

  “Really?”

  Mutt nodded.

  “Where?”

  “Up yonder by the Laundromat.”

  Levi narrowed his eyes at Mutt. “You lying?”

  Mutt shrugged. “Maybe it wasn’t the same pigeon you’re looking for.” He picked at dirt under his fingernails. “There’s probably lots of one-legged pigeons around here.”

  Levi glanced up toward the Laundromat.

  Mutt shrugged again. “Shiny green head. Black stripes on his wings.”

  “Come on, y’all,” Levi called to C.J. and Jiggs as he took off running toward the Laundromat.

  Then Mutt trotted up the sidewalk toward Luther’s Chinese Takeout, searching for the one-legged pigeon.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Amy and That Temper of Hers

  Ernie rested his head on Mr. Mineo’s scuffed-up brown shoes while Mr. Mineo ate cold macaroni and cheese and rambled on and on about Sherman.

  “He’s never been gone this long before,” he said, tossing a piece of macaroni onto the linoleum floor for Ernie.

  “Amy’s gonna be ticked off big-time,” he said. “Her out in that shed day and night, waiting on him to come home and him off gallivanting all over tarnation and back.”

  He pushed himself up out of his old plaid lounge chair and shuffled to the kitchen.

  “When he does show hisself back in that shed, she’s liable to peck him bald-headed,” he said. “You know Amy and that temper of hers.”

  He put the dirty bowl in the sink with the others and called to Ernie, “Let’s go see if he’s back yet.”

  They went around the side of the trailer to the shed. The rain had turned the red dirt on the path into gooey red mud. Inside the shed, some of the pigeons pranced around in the chicken-wire cage on the side. Some of them pecked at grains of gritty dirt on the floor. And others sat contentedly on perches.

  Mr. Mineo said hello to each one.

  Edna

  Frankie

  Martha

  Samson<
br />
  Leslie

  Taylor

  Amy

  Joe

  Christopher

  and Martin

  But not Sherman.

  “Come on, Ernie,” Mr. Mineo said. “Let’s go look for that dern fool bird.”

  The pickup truck splashed through the puddles of the narrow road along the lake, past the bait shop, toward Meadville. Mr. Mineo had driven up and down this road three times since yesterday, searching the cornfields and peach orchards. He had turned onto the far end of Main Street, past the dirt driveway that led to the cluster of ramshackle houses, past the Ropers’ farm, and into town. He had driven past the barbershop and the post office and the bank and Luther’s Chinese Takeout. He had even gone up past the Waffle House on Highway 14.

  But he had not found Sherman.

  He hadn’t told Ernie yet, but his aggravation was turning to worry.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Stella Feels Sorry for Herself

  Stella watched as Levi and C.J. and Jiggs headed in one direction and Mutt in the other.

  She definitely smelled a rat. But she was hot and hungry and wanted to go home.

  By the time she and Gerald got back to Waxhaw Lane, the sun was starting to disappear behind the shiny white steeple of Rocky Creek Baptist Church. They went up to the garage roof to look for the pigeon, but he wasn’t there.

  So Stella went home to feel sorry for herself.

  She sat in the empty doghouse in her front yard. The doghouse had been empty when Stella’s family moved in, way back when she was a baby. She had asked and asked and asked if she could have a dog to live in the doghouse, but her parents always rolled their eyes and flapped their hands and then finally told her to stop asking.

  When she and Gerald were little, they used to pretend they were puppies living in the doghouse. They ate pretend dog food and scratched pretend fleas and barked at the neighbor’s cat when he sauntered across the yard.

  Stella had given up any smidgen of hope that she would ever have a dog. But maybe if she couldn’t have a dog, she could have a pigeon.

  She hugged her knees and sighed.

  Why did Levi have to mess everything up?

  And what about Mutt Raynard?

  Mutt Raynard was crazy.

  There was no telling what he was up to.

  She sat in the empty doghouse until dark and listened to her mother hollering for her from the front stoop. When she finally went inside, she had to go right to her room and say her prayers.

  She sat by the open window, feeling sorry for herself and whispering into the night.

  She sells seashells by the seashore.

  She sells seashells by the seashore.

  She sells seashells by the seashore.

  The words drifted through the screen and floated across the street and hovered under the streetlights, dancing with the moths. Then they swirled up into the starry sky, where a one-legged pigeon flew above the road on the outskirts of town.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Little Brown Dog

  Ethel stared up at the water stain on the ceiling of the bedroom. She had told Amos about a hundred times to get up there on the roof and fix that leak.

  Amos snored beside her. The chirp of crickets drifted through the open window. The sweet scent of the honeysuckle that clung to the side of the screened porch swirled around the bedroom and mingled with the crisp, starched smell of the gingham curtains.

  Ethel tiptoed over to the window and peered out into the yard, looking for the one-legged pigeon and the little brown dog.

  That afternoon, while hanging the sheets on the clothesline, she had realized how much she was looking forward to seeing them.

  She waited by the window, hoping they would come.

  Amos snored and Ethel waited.

  Amos snored and Ethel waited.

  Suddenly, the silhouette of the pigeon appeared against the moonlit sky.

  It swooped in circles around the top of the barn and landed on the weathervane.

  Then it hopped onto the roof and disappeared through the opening under the eaves.

  Ethel squinted into the darkness, searching the yard.

  She waited and waited.

  Amos snored.

  The crickets chirped.

  The gingham curtains blew gently in the breeze.

  Ethel’s heart sank. Where was the little brown dog?

  The clock over the mantel in the dining room ticked away the minutes.

  Ethel’s disappointment began to grow.

  Then, just as she was about to give up and go back to bed, the dog appeared at the edge of the weed-filled lot next door and trotted toward the barn. He wriggled under the fence around the old pigsty and through the open door of the barn.

  Ethel held her breath, hoping the dog wouldn’t bark and wake Amos up.

  From the dark shadows of the barn came one little yip.

  Two little yips.

  Three little yips.

  Then silence.

  Amos stirred in the bed, grumbling and snorting, but he didn’t wake up.

  Ethel smiled.

  She knew the dog was eating ground beef and gravy from the pie tin beneath the ladder to the hayloft.

  And the one-legged pigeon was sleeping peacefully in the deserted barn-owl nest in the rafters.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Wormy Lives Here

  That night, Levi spray-painted WORMY LIVES HERE on the wooden fence beside Gerald’s driveway.

  Crooked red letters with paint running down and ending with drops on the sidewalk.

  Gerald was sure it was Levi who had done it.

  Who else would do such a thing?

  Nobody.

  Gerald’s mother had gone out the next morning and painted over it, but the words still showed through, pale pink on the white fence.

  WORMY LIVES HERE

  Gerald stayed inside all morning eating ham and pickle sandwiches.

  He ate three of them.

  He could see Stella up on the garage roof. He heard her call him, but he didn’t go out.

  She came to the door three times and his mother told her he was sick. Gerald knew that Stella wouldn’t believe that.

  He peeked out of the kitchen window. Stella was sitting on the concrete bench under the hickory-nut tree.

  Gerald heaved a sigh.

  Stella was very stubborn. She would sit there for a long time.

  He finished the last bite of his ham and pickle sandwich and went outside.

  When Stella asked him what was wrong, he told her about the pink letters on the fence.

  WORMY LIVES HERE

  Stella stomped around to the other side of the fence, trampling the ivy and scaring Gerald’s gray-faced dog under the porch. She picked up a hickory nut and hurled it at the fence. Then she stomped back into the yard and plopped down on the bench.

  “Levi’s so mean,” she said. “We’ve got to find that pigeon before he does, okay?”

  Gerald wanted to say, No.

  He wanted to say, I don’t want anything to do with Levi and his scabby-kneed, germ-infested friends.

  But instead he said, “Okay.”

  He said it very quietly.

  But Stella heard it.

  And the next thing Gerald knew, he was following Stella up the side of Waxhaw Lane toward town.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Edsel’s Hunk of Junk

  Luther hung a sign on the door of the restaurant.

  GONE FISHING

  Then he tossed his fishing rod into the back of Edsel’s white delivery van and climbed into the front seat.

  Edsel turned the key.

  Whirrrrrrr clunk clunk

  Edsel looked at Luther.

  Luther looked at Edsel.

  Edsel turned the key again.

  Whirrrrrrr clunk clunk

  Edsel banged his fist on the steering wheel and said a cuss word. Then he flopped his head back against the seat, pulled his baseball c
ap over his face, and muttered, “I hate this hunk of junk.”

  His neck grew redder by the minute.

  Luther muttered, “Dang it.”

  Edsel cracked his knuckles, threw his cap onto the floor of the truck, and said another cuss word.

  He turned the key one more time.

  Whirrrrrrr clunk clunk

  Two red lights on the dashboard blinked on.

  Edsel let out a big groaning sigh. “I can’t deal with this right now,” he said.

  While Luther and Edsel sat in angry silence in the van, Stella and Gerald ran by.

  A short time later, Levi and C.J. and Jiggs rode their skateboards up the sidewalk on the other side of the street.

  “Let’s go eat,” Edsel said.

  Luther took his fishing rod out of the back of the van, and he and Edsel went inside the restaurant to eat pork lo mein. While they sat on the barstools at the chipped formica counter, Mutt Raynard loped by, whistling.

  Edsel mumbled something about those crazy Raynards.

  When a little brown dog trotted by, Luther tossed a piece of pork out onto the sidewalk. The dog gobbled it up, then hurried off toward the alley.

  And while Luther and Edsel were sitting glumly at the counter in the restaurant, a one-legged pigeon hopped through the open back doors of Edsel’s white delivery van and pecked happily at the scraps of wilting cabbage spilling through the holes of a cardboard box.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Gerald Snaps and Mutt Snoops

  Stella and Gerald walked.

  And walked.

  And walked.

  They walked up one side of Main Street and down the other.

  Twice.

  They walked up and down the alleys behind the shops, looking in Dumpsters and under parked cars.

  Stella was feeling discouraged. “Are you even looking?” she snapped at Gerald.

  “For the millionth time, Stella, yes!” he snapped back.

  Stella was surprised.

  Gerald never snapped.

  They were heading back up Main Street when a familiar voice called from across the street.

  “Hey, Wormy!”

  Stella clenched her fists and glared over at Levi on the other side of the street. “Shut up!” she hollered.

  “Okay, Mrs. Wormy,” Levi called.

  C.J. and Jiggs roared with delight.