Justin and the Best Biscuits in the World

by Mildred Pitts Walter

  “But I don’t know how.”

  “Justin, that’s the easiest thing in the world to make.”

  He had seen his mother scramble eggs with rice. They almost always had cooked rice in the refrigerator. He’d make eggs and rice.

  When the teaspoon of butter was hot in the small iron skillet, he added the rice first. He got the egg and a bowl ready to beat the egg for scrambling. He broke the egg and suddenly it seemed alive. He had no control. It fell from the shell so fast he didn’t know what had happened. It splattered against the cabinet and slopped down onto the floor.

  He grabbed paper towels and tried to quickly get it cleaned up. But the egg slipped all over. What a mess! Then he smelled something awful. The rice. It was smoking, almost on fire.

  Just then Evelyn burst into the kitchen. “Justin, what in the world?”

  “I’m hungry.”

  “You know you can’t cook. Look at this floor. Get out!”

  “I-I—let me get it up.”

  “No, get out, go!”

  He left, no longer wanting more to eat. He stood outside the kitchen just long enough to hear Evelyn say, “Can’t do a thing right.”

  He slammed his door and threw the clothing that remained on his bed across the room. He stormed around angrily kicking shoes, balls, his games. He wanted to scream, I don’t care how messy I am!

  Throwing himself across his bed, he lay with his feet dangling to the floor. He looked up at the light beige ceiling—the only uncluttered space in his room. Besides all the clutter on the floor, his walls, slightly darker than the ceiling, had every inch of space covered. Pictures of baseball, basketball, and football players competed with rock stars, TV stars. And he had just added a big picture of Halley’s Comet, his favorite at the moment.

  Now he kept his eye on the ceiling, trying to forget Evelyn and how much he still had to do to make his room look neat.

  A flood of light woke him. At first he thought he was dreaming. His mama, Hadiya, Evelyn, and his grandpa were all in his room.

  “Justin, wake up. Grandpa is here,” his mama said.

  At first he was dazed. Then suddenly he realized they were there—in all that clutter.

  “What happened in here?” his mama asked. Her quiet manner and even disposition slipped away. “Why didn’t you clean your room?” she asked sharply.

  He couldn’t raise his eyes, but he felt their gazes on him. He became angry. Why did they bring Grandpa into my room? he wondered. He refused to answer his mother’s question.

  “I’ll tell you, Mama. He played. Then he messed up the kitchen.”

  “Evelyn, keep quiet,” Hadiya said, as if embarrassed to have that said in front of Grandpa.

  “Why you always have to put your mouth in it?” Justin shouted. “I don’t like you telling me what to do. I don’t like doing women’s work.”

  “What’s womanish about cleaning this room?” Evelyn retorted.

  “I told you to clean your room. Evelyn didn’t,” Mama said. “What’s wrong with you, Justin?”

  “Wait a minute,” Grandpa finally said. “Why don’t all of you leave me and Justin alone for a little while.”

  “But, Papa…” Mama said.

  “Go on now,” Grandpa insisted.

  “All right,” Mama said, “but you’re going to clean this room, you hear me, Justin.” She threw up her hands as she left with Evelyn and Hadiya.

  Alone with his grandpa, he wanted to fling himself into Grandpa’s arms. He loved Grandpa more than anyone. But he sat on his bed unable to move. Unable to speak. He struggled to hold back rising tears. Grandpa stood waiting.

  Finally Justin said, “I can’t stand it here. I can’t do anything right. Nothing.” The tears splashed and he quickly brushed them away with the back of his hand. He burned with shame: his grandpa seeing him cry like a baby.

  Grandpa still waited quietly. That’s what Justin liked about him. Grandpa didn’t rush him. He listened. Justin went on, “I don’t like to clean house, Grandpa. I don’t like to wash dishes and I hate folding clothes.”

  “And to make your bed, pick up your things, and to tidy up your room, eh?”

  Suddenly Justin was again aware of how messy his room looked.

  His grandpa reached out and touched his shoulder. When Justin looked up, he saw that look on his grandpa’s face that was always there after a great joke. They both burst out laughing.

  “How would you like to come home to the ranch with me? It’s festival time again.”

  Justin beamed. He loved the big rodeo, the games, and the parade in Grandpa’s town.

  “You know those Black cowboys I’ve been telling you about? Their rodeo is performing.”

  “You’re kidding, Grandpa.”

  “I kid you not.”

  “Can I really come?” Justin asked.

  “Let’s ask your mama.” He winked at Justin.

  His mama did not look up when she said, “I’m upset with Justin. He will not go any place until that room is neat.”

  “All right, all right, I’ll clean my room.” He raced to his room and quickly stuffed all the things back into the closet and closed the closet door.

  When his mama came to see what he had done, he nervously tried to smooth his bed, hoping she wouldn’t open the closet door.

  His mother looked around the room and sighed. Justin was not sure he had passed inspection.

  Soon they all sat down to Hadiya’s delicious spaghetti dinner.

  While they waited for that dessert Justin had tasted, Grandpa asked again if Justin could come home with him for a few days.

  “I don’t know, Papa,” Mama said.

  “Grandpa, why don’t you take me?” Hadiya asked. “I’d cook you some good food.”

  “If you cook for me the way you cooked tonight, I’d get fat, Diya. It’s Justin’s turn. Yours is next. How about it, Daughter?”

  “Justin, do you think you deserve to go?” Mama asked.

  “Oh, Mama, let him go. Be good to get rid of him for a while,” Evelyn said.

  “Sure, I want to go,” Justin said. He looked at Evelyn as if to say, I won’t miss you either.

  “He can go, but only if you spend the night, Papa,” Mama said.

  “That’s a deal,” Grandpa said.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” went up around the table, and Hadiya went to serve her magic dessert.

  4

  A VISIT TO Q-T RANCH

  LATER THAT EVENING Justin packed his duffel bag. He polished his cowboy boots and shined his silver cowboy belt buckle. He was so excited about going with Grandpa he couldn’t sleep.

  He turned restlessly on his bed, thinking about the festival and the rodeo. He thought of the horses at Grandpa’s ranch. Three of them in all. One was called Cropper after the horse of the famous cowboy Bill Pickett. Another horse, a dapple gray, got his name from Grandpa. Grandpa said the horse talked to him, so he named him Palaver. Black Lightning, the youngest of the three, belonged to Justin whenever Justin visited the ranch. Justin called him Black and called Palaver, Pal.

  For as long as he could remember, the Q-T Ranch had been in his mother’s family. Justin’s Great-Great-Grandfather Ward had been a cowboy who rode cattle trails taking cattle to market, out of Texas into Kansas. Those trips lasted many weeks, sometimes months. People in the East depended upon cowboys to put beef on their tables.

  Then the railroads spread across the country linking the East and West. Cowboys were no longer needed to drive cattle. So, many of them settled in the West. Great-Great-Grandpa Ward settled in Missouri. He founded a ranch with a hundred and sixty acres. The place was so quiet and tranquil, he named it the Q-T Ranch.

  Now Justin’s house creaked in the stillness. Everyone else was asleep. Justin lay on his bed imagining himself riding upon a horse under a dark starlit sky.

  Thousands of cattle rested close by. He listened to their breathing. Cowboys lay on blankets scattered about on the ground. Justin carefully guided his horse around
the men. Snores of some rattled in the darkness while some slept without a sound of breathing.

  The chuck wagon that carried supplies and the cook’s utensils stood farther ahead on the trail. A big box attached to the wagon held the iron rods that fitted over a firepit, and a table. When it was time to cook, cowboys helped lift the rods from the box and unfold the cook’s table.

  Justin imagined now that the cook lay sleeping under the wagon. A lantern attached to the back of the wagon burned brightly, protecting the supplies from animals. Cowboys had mostly sourdough biscuits, dried beef, and beans. That was their main food, day in and day out, for months on the trail.

  Justin went on imagining. He saw himself riding, keeping an eye on the cattle, singing softly. He looked at the stars to tell the time of night. Only one more hour for him to ride. Soon another cowboy would relieve him. Far away on the horizon bright orange lightning flashed. The cattle moved restlessly. Justin kept up his song. Singing soothed the cattle, made them calm. He wanted no stampede tonight.

  Justin’s house was quiet and still. Wishing he could fall asleep, Justin listened to a dog barking far away. His mind wandered back to the cattle trail he imagined. He went on riding and singing.

  Finally the stars told him his watch was over. Another cowboy came to ride around the herd and sing.

  Justin saw himself falling on his bedroll, ready to sleep but still worried about the restless cattle. He dozed. Then suddenly he heard cattle lowing. Hoofbeats sounded wildly on the trail. A stampede! Quickly Justin got up, jumped onto his horse, and rode to head off the leader of the cattle. He had to turn that leader toward the tail end of the herd. Other cowboys were now up and on their horses riding with him. They rode hard and fast, circling the cattle, settling them down again.

  Now Justin tossed on his bed, so exhausted he fell asleep.

  The next morning the house buzzed with excitement. Justin was anxious to go, impatient with all the talk and attention centered on Grandpa. Hadiya insisted on packing a lunch. Mama brought out a box of mended socks and shirts that Grandpa had left on the last trip. She also gave Grandpa vitamins, soap, and oils, which she insisted Grandpa use. Justin doubted that Grandpa would use the smelly cologne Mama tried to shove off on him.

  “Here,” Mama said. “Use this and wow the ladies.” She laughed.

  “I don’t need stuff like that to wow ladies,” he said, handing it back to her.

  But Mama had her way. She tucked the cologne into the box with the other things. Finally they loaded the truck that Grandpa called his “Iron Pony.” They started on their way. Already it was hot, and the day promised to be a scorcher.

  It pleased Justin that they were taking the long way. The highway wound high up around curves, then down again to the plains near the foot of the rolling hills. By lunchtime they still had some miles to go. “I know just the place for our lunch,” Grandpa said.

  The truck hummed up a steep grade. Then Grandpa turned off onto a narrow dirt road. Soon they came to a parking spot. Grandpa got out and suggested that Justin carry the lunch.

  Together they walked on a trail that led into cool woods. Justin was hungry. They walked and walked, often giving way to people coming down the trail.

  On they went, away from the regular trail onto a small path. Finally Grandpa said, “Here we are.”

  Justin looked around and breathed a sigh of happiness. The silence was peaceful. It was as if no other people had been there. He remembered the fallen tree that made a natural seat for them. The log lay in the quiet clearing with big trees growing around. Justin lifted his eyes to only a small circle of silvery sky. He felt small peeking through the skylight of those big trees.

  Hadiya had made sandwiches with lots of lettuce and sprouts. At home he would not have eaten that green stuff. But growling hungry now, he ate it all.

  Justin also remembered a lake nearby. “Can we walk to the lake, Grandpa?”

  Grandpa smiled, glad that Justin had asked. The lake was one of his favorite places, too.

  When they returned to the main trail, more people joined them going toward the lake. Justin was pleased that his grandpa, a good hiker, walked as fast as he. Justin liked to move quickly on a trail.

  Soon they saw the lake sparkling in the bright sun. People fished and some splashed their feet in the cool water. Justin and his grandpa walked around to the far side enjoying the sounds of birds and small lapping waves, and the smell of growing things.

  They came upon a man fishing. The man looked like he was somebody’s grandpa, too. He spoke warmly to Justin and asked, “Are you going fishing today, young man?”

  “Not today,” Justin replied. “We’re here for just a little while.”

  “Having any luck?” Grandpa asked the man.

  “Lots. But I don’t like fish. I just like fishing.” The man and Grandpa laughed.

  “Don’t like fish?” Justin asked. “I like fish and fishing.”

  “Then you may have these.” The man held up a string of four speckled trout, gleaming in colors of the rainbow.

  Justin grinned and said, “Thanks!” With the string of fish, Justin and Grandpa circled the lake. When they were back near the trail leading from the lake, they shouted to the fisherman and waved goodbye. Soon they were on the road again, heading to the Q-T Ranch.

  5

  MAKING A BED IS EASY

  GRANDPA’S HOUSE SAT about a mile in from the road. Between that road and the house lay a large meadow with a small stream. Everything seemed in order when Justin and Grandpa arrived.

  Justin got out and opened the gate to the winding road that led toward the house. The meadow below shimmered in waves of tall green grass. The horses grazed calmly there. Justin was so excited to see them again that he waved his grandpa on. “I’ll walk up, Grandpa.” He ran down into the meadow.

  Pink prairie roses blossomed near the fence. Goldenrod, sweet william, and black-eyed susans added color here and there. Justin waded through the lush green grass.

  The horses, drinking at the stream, paid no attention as he raced across the meadow toward them. Cropper looks so old, he thought as he came closer. But Black Lightning’s coat shone, as beautiful as ever. Justin gave a familiar whistle. The horses lifted their heads and their ears went back, but only Black moved toward him on the run.

  Justin reached up and Black lowered his head. Justin rubbed him behind the ear. Softly he said, “Good boy, Black. I’ve missed you. You glad to see me?”

  Then Pal nosed in, wanting to be petted, too. Cropper didn’t bother. Justin wondered if Cropper’s eyesight was fading.

  The sun had moved well toward the west. Long shadows from the rolling hills reached across the plains. “Want to take me home, boy?” Justin asked Black.

  Black lowered his head and pawed with one foot as he shook his mane. Justin led him to a large rock. From the rock, Justin straddled Black’s back, without a saddle. Black walked him home.

  Grandpa’s house stood on a hill surrounded by plains, near the rolling hills. Over many years, trees standing close by the house had grown tall and strong. The house, more than a hundred years old, was made of logs. The sun and rain had turned the logs on the outside an iron gray. Flecks of green showed in some of the logs.

  When Justin went inside, Grandpa had already changed his clothes. Now he busily measured food for the animals. While Grandpa was away, a neighbor had come to feed the pigs and chickens. The horses took care of themselves, eating and drinking in the meadow. Today the horses would have some oats, too.

  “Let’s feed the animals first,” Grandpa said. “Then we’ll cook those fish for dinner. You can clean them when we get back.”

  Justin sighed deeply. How could he tell Grandpa he didn’t know how to clean fish? He was sure to make a mess of it. Worriedly, he helped Grandpa load the truck with the food and water for the chickens and pigs. They put in oats for the horses, too. Then they drove to the chicken yard.

  As they rode along the dusty road, Justin remembere
d Grandpa telling him that long, long ago they had raised hundreds of cattle on Q-T Ranch. Then when Justin’s mama was a little girl, they had raised only chickens on the ranch, selling many eggs to people in the cities. Now Grandpa had only a few chickens, three pigs, and three horses.

  At the chicken yard, chickens rushed around to get the bright yellow corn that Justin threw to them. They fell over each other, fluttering and clucking. While Justin fed them, Grandpa gathered the eggs.

  The pigs lazily dozed in their pens. They had been wallowing in the mud. pond nearby. Now cakes of dried mud dotted their bodies. The floor where they slept had mud on it, too. Many flies buzzed around. My room surely doesn’t look like this, Justin thought.

  The pigs ran to the trough when Grandpa came with the pail of grain mixed with water. They grunted and snorted. The smallest one squealed with delight. He’s cute, Justin thought.

  By the time they had fed the horses oats and returned home, it was dark and cooler. Justin was glad it was so late. Maybe now Grandpa would clean the fish so that they could eat sooner. He was hungry.

  Grandpa had not changed the plan. He gave Justin some old newspapers, a small sharp knife, and a bowl with clean water.

  “Now,” he said, handing Justin the pail that held the fish, “you can clean these.”

  Justin looked at the slimy fish in the water. How could he tell his grandpa that he didn’t want to touch those fish? He still didn’t want Grandpa to know that he had never cleaned fish before. Evelyn’s words crowded him: Can’t do anything right. He dropped his shoulders and sighed. “Do I have to, Grandpa?”

  “We have to eat, don’t we?”

  “But—but I don’t know how,” Justin cried.

  “Oh, it’s not hard. I’ll show you.” Grandpa placed a fish on the newspaper. “Be careful now and keep it on this paper. When you’re all done, just fold the paper and all the mess is inside.”

  Justin watched Grandpa scrape the fish upward from the tail toward the head. Little shiny scales came off easily. Then he cut the fish’s belly upward from a little vent hole and scraped all the stuff inside onto the paper. “Now see how easy that is. You try,” Grandpa said. “Be very careful with the knife.” He watched Justin to see if he knew what to do.