Me and Jake

by Boo Riley

  We walked out the back of the barn and stared off into the woods like we didn’t have no more sense than a goat.

  “Cameron, you stole his helmet, and he come and stole it back. Now who’s wondering?”

  “Man, who’d have thought? I hid it good too.”

  “Let’s get chores done. I’m hungry. Then we can get out of here.”

  About halfway to the bus stop, Dad passed us. We didn’t wave and he didn’t wave.

  “Cameron, do you love Dad?”

  After a quick wave at the floating dust the pickup stirred, Cameron looked at me like I’d kicked him in the shin. “Heck no. We done talked about this. I don’t love him.”

  “I do.”

  “How could you love him? He hates us and treats us like animals.”

  “I don’t like him.”

  “That don’t make sense. You love him, but don’t like him? You need to go see a doctor. You ain’t right in the head.”

  “Maybe not. It’s just the way I feel.”

  “I don’t see the difference.”

  We all arrived at the bus stop at the same time—Jason, the bus, me, and Cameron. Cindy was there and she sat alone. Our eyes met, and she used hers to point to the empty spot next to her. She moved her backpack so I could sit.

  “Good morning, Ty.”

  “Morning, Cindy.” I put my books on my lap and stared straight ahead. My tongue froze about the time my mind went blank.

  “Ty, did we have math homework?”

  “What? Oh, Miss Betty Sue gave us a page of problems. I got them all done, but I don’t know if I did them right.”

  “I could help you, if you want. Help you with your homework sometimes. We could do it during lunch and on the bus.”

  What a better way to spend time with Cindy. “I worried about you yesterday, ’cause you didn’t come to school.”

  “One of my cousins is sick, and Mom wanted me to go with her to the hospital to see him. He got out yesterday.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. What’s it like? A hospital, I mean.”

  Cindy’s red lips pooched out like maybe she was going to give me a quick peck on the cheek, but I misread her. “Ty, you don’t get out much.”

  “No, I suppose I don’t. I’ve never been to a doctor. Cameron either.”

  “You didn’t go when your Dad hit you in the mouth?”

  It was my turn to be surprised. “How’d you know about that?”

  “Ty Ray, I’m not blind. Yours and Cameron’s lips were swollen the first day of school. I’m not the only one who knows how your dad treats you.”

  Her comment made me check the tooth with my tongue. Cameron hadn’t been messing with his tooth lately, so his might be OK too.

  We didn’t talk much after that. Like with Cameron, I felt comfortable in the silence between us. When I glanced at her, she glanced back and smiled. She had a scar on her right knee. She pulled her green skirt down to cover it and heat rose in my face. I didn’t realize I’d been so obvious.

  Miss Betty Sue went over our homework in class, and it was a good thing. I didn’t get a one of them right and would have failed. I know when something is less than or greater than something else, but I had the signs mixed up. I wanted Cindy’s help—just to be with her—but I also wanted to get something right on a test for once.

  Cowboy walked by on the way to the pencil sharpener and mouthed off about driving a pickup. The words rolled off my feelings like water off a pig’s back. Christmas wasn’t far off. I was going to look into how much a kite cost, buy him one, and present it to him in front of the class.

  As the day wore on, thoughts of Mr. Jordan and working took over my mind. He mentioned he had a fence to mend. And he said we’d be able to practice our driving skills. A stop at The Burger Stop could be in the mix. I wanted to see Randy, see how he felt. The bell rang.

  Cameron stood at the curb. “I told Miss Adams we wouldn’t be on the bus.”

  “What’d she say?”

  “Nothing, just ‘See you Monday’.”

  “That was easy. This is the first time we haven’t ridden the bus home.”

  “There’s Mr. Jordan, behind the red pickup.”

  Mr. Jordan pulled to the curb in front of us. I reached for the door handle, but before I could open it, he got out.

  “Hello, boys. I hope you’re well today and don’t have too much homework. Ty, you drive.”

  I was stumped. “Sir?”

  “Get over here and drive Cameron and me down to the end of the road. Hurry up. Folks want to get in here and get their kids.”

  I ran around the pickup, hopped in behind the wheel, and put on my seatbelt. Cameron looked as wide-eyed as I felt. I was in the ninth grade! I don’t know what Mr. Jordan was thinking.

  I looked up, and there stood Cowboy and Cindy. My heart soared. Cindy wore the biggest grin I’d ever seen. Cowboy looked like he’d choked on a mouthful of crow.

  Cindy gave me a quick wave.

  I put her in gear and eased out the clutch.

  31

  I drove to the main road, pulled to the side, and stopped. Mr. Jordan hopped out and I slid over. My cheeks hurt. I couldn’t remember smiling that much, not in all my days.

  Mr. Jordan and Cameron had matching grins. “Ty, you did well, son. Well, I tell you. Cameron, when we get to the house, you can take a turn.”

  “Yes, sir. I appreciate the lesson.”

  “You boys hungry? Did you get enough for lunch today? We can stop and get you something if you didn’t.”

  Me and Cameron looked at one another. Stopping to get something to eat would be wonderful, but we’d had plenty—at least I know I did. Today was chilidog and fries day, and I’d managed to find two extra dogs to eat.

  “No, sir,” I said. “We had a good lunch. We’re ready to go.”

  “I don’t think I’m going to work with you today. Randy has been sick, sicker than normal. We had to put him in the hospital right after you saw him, and he just got home. You remember Ed? He drove when we picked up hay. He’s going to work with you at a place I’m leasing across from the house. The fences are a mess and wouldn’t hold a cow any time at all.” We pulled in, parked, and got out. “You men remember to bring your gloves?”

  “Yes, sir, got them right here.” I held up mine. I’m glad we remembered. They were like a gift.

  Mr. Jordan pointed toward the barn. “I think Ed’s getting supplies loaded in the ranch truck. See if you can give him a hand.”

  “Sir, would you tell Randy…tell him I’ll say a prayer for him. I hope he gets well real soon.”

  Mr. Jordan looked at me, his blue eyes intense. The silence was long enough to make me fidget and poke at the grass with a toe. “I sure will, Ty. Thank you for that.”

  Praying wasn’t something I’d ever done on purpose. Dad had forced me to request God’s help a few times, and I didn’t know if that was considered a prayer. Until we went to the white church, asking God for other things had never crossed my mind.

  Ed had an armload of steel fence posts. He tossed them into the bed of an old, tan pickup, next to a roll of barbed wire, shovels, hammers and the like. He pulled the glove off his right hand and offered it. “Gentlemen, good to see you again. You ready?”

  “Yes, sir,” we said at the same time. We shook his calloused hand.

  “Did you bring some work clothes?” He paused a moment as me and Cameron looked each other up and down. “No? I’ll tell you what. I think there’s a couple of shirts hanging in the tack room that Randy wears when he’s doing chores. Let’s see if they fit. I bet they do.”

  I put on a white cotton shirt. It had stains on it and a pocket was missing. The material was whiter where the pocket had been. Cameron put on a brown one. We hung our shirts where we got the replacements.

  Ed eyed us. “That’ll do. No use ruining a good shirt. If we had some extra britches, I’d let you have them too, but we don’t. OK, I think I’ve got everything we need in the pickup. Who wants to drive
?”

  I answered by walking around to the passenger’s side.

  Ed crawled in behind me and closed the door. “Well, men, the only thing wrong with manual labor is Manuel doesn’t ever show up.” He laughed and looked at me, then Cameron. “You don’t get it?”

  “I don’t get what?”

  He laughed again only louder. “Never mind. Cameron, this old truck is automatic, just put it in D for go. And remember that R don’t mean race. Take a right at the end of the lane and a left at the first gate. It’s open. Just drive in and stop.”

  Cameron looked at me and grinned.

  Ed was going to be fun to work with.

  The fence looked to be a mess, both wire and posts missing and broken. The wire that remained sagged.

  Ed jumped out and opened the tailgate. “Let’s start by replacing the bad posts along the road. Cameron, you and I will take the step-jack and that short piece of chain there and pull the bad posts. Ty, you bring the post pounder and a couple of posts at a time and put in a new one behind us. Have you driven posts before?”

  “No, sir, not yet.”

  “Well, it’s easy. Stand up the post, like so.” He grabbed a steel post and held it with his left hand. “Then, put the post driver over the top of it and beat the dickens out of it. But stop before it reaches China.”

  We laughed at that one.

  Ed continued. “Just make sure the notches are facing the same way. That’s what supports the wire. And keep them straight as possible. They bend easy enough, so if one is crooked, you can push it straight. You ready?”

  Ed removed four strands of wire from the first post. Then he and Cameron tied a short piece of chain around the bottom of it, made a loop for the jack to fit in, and jacked it out of the ground.

  Ed tossed the old post aside. “We’ll drive by before we quit and pick these up. Cameron, carry the jack to the third post down, the bent one. Ty, come on and give her a try. Move it over ’bout a foot, so the post isn’t in the same hole.”

  I placed the bottom of the post where I thought it should be, stepped back, so the post driver, which was only a piece of two-inch pipe—three feet long, with a piece of steel plate welded on top of it—could be slid over the top. It was heavy, about the weight of a half a sack of feed. After standing the two erect again, I gave it what for, and holy cow. My shoulders felt like they’d been set afire. After ten whacks, I couldn’t do it anymore.

  Ed laughed loud and long, and I joined him. Most of the time, when someone laughed at me, I’d take offense. But not this time. I must have looked a sight, and I enjoyed laughing at Ed laughing at me.

  Cameron’s mouth hung open as if he’d never seen the like.

  Ed reached over and squeezed my left shoulder. “If this was a fight, the post just won, whupped you fair and square. Let the driver do the work. You just pick it up and help it start south. It’ll do the rest. We have thirty or forty to replace, so don’t kill yourself on the first one. You do four or five and Cameron can take a turn.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He gave me a pat on the back. “You’re just the right height for each post too. Drive them in until they’re as tall as you are.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He left me with it. I took another short rest after hitting it a few licks. Then I found my rhythm and started counting each stroke of the driver in my head. By the third post, I had my own competition going, trying to beat the number of strokes it took to drive the last post.

  After five posts, Cameron had his turn. He must have taken a lesson from the beating I took because he looked like a pro.

  The next thing I know, me and Cameron were following the pickup, throwing old posts in the back.

  The sun was still high, a huge yellow ball sitting over the horizon, maybe an hour of daylight left. The evening would be cool and pleasant.

  “Ty, it’s funny.” Cameron tossed in a post and walked to the next one.

  “What’s funny?”

  “My arms are killing me and my hands are sore, but I feel wonderful.”

  “Me too. What is that?”

  “I know what it is, but I don’t know if I can say what I’m thinking.” We walked to the next post together, quiet, while he looked for the words. “Fear. We work hard for Dad ’cause we’re scared. I’m not scared here, and I work harder and I like it. I like it a lot.”

  Cameron amazed me sometimes. He was a thinker.

  Ed stopped and we crawled in the cab with him for the ride back to the barn. He pulled around to the side and backed up to a stack of old posts and wire. “Take the old posts out, if you would. I’m going to mosey up to the house and check in with the boss. I’ll be right back and take you home. I’ve got a place we might stop too, if you’re not in too big a hurry.”

  “We got no place to go.” Cameron gave me a quick look and grinned.

  I nodded my head. “My shoulders are going to be sore tomorrow.”

  “Mine too, but it feels good. What’s next, I wonder?”

  “I hope it’s a burger, fries, and apple pie with a big soda pop to wash it down with.”

  “Yeah, that would top it off. Hey, look who’s here.”

  I turned and suddenly felt like crawling under the pile of posts.

  “Hi, Ty.”

  “Hi, Cindy.”

  32

  Ed turned off of the main road before I got a glimpse of the sign above The Burger Stop. It was just as well. Seeing it would’ve made me hungry. Cameron kept staring at me like I had something stuck in my teeth. I raised my chin at him. “What?”

  He whispered, “You’re a moron.”

  I gave him my shut-up face. Cameron knew the face but didn’t care. “You, brother, are a moron.”

  Cameron might get a kite the same day I give one to Cowboy if he didn’t watch it. They can go fly them together. I shrugged him off and looked at houses and trees as we passed, like I didn’t care what he said.

  We weaved through town until I didn’t have a clue where we were. Usually, I’d ask, but today I didn’t give two hoots.

  Ed slowed, flipped on the blinker, and then turned onto a dirt lot. The sign at the entrance, The Coon Club, hung on chains between two wooden posts.

  Cameron leaned into me. “You ever heard of this place?”

  He was trying to be nice, but I was still thinking about his “moron” comment. “Nope.”

  Ed parked among two-dozen pickups. “Come on, men. Let’s go watch.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “It’s a swimming contest for coon dogs. You boys ever seen one before?”

  Cameron shut the door. “No sir, not yet.”

  The pond might have been fifty paces long and ten wide. To one side of the pond stood a small set of bleachers that would seat a dozen or so people.

  Everyone seemed to know Ed because hellos and handshakes went around amid bays and barks of a dozen coon dogs. Black and Tans, Redbones, Beagles, and Walkers pulled at their leashes. A ruckus erupted when a Walker got loose and got into a fight with a Redbone.

  An older man in a green ball cap walked up to Ed. He pointed at me and Cameron with his cigar as they talked. Ed looked our way, nodded, and then walked over. “They need someone to run the dog boxes and pedal the coon. You mind helping?”

  “We’ll help. What do we have to do?” I turned to look at my brother. “Eh, Cameron?”

  “Yep, I’m in.”

  Ed led us to the other end of the pond where a set of four wooden dog boxes stood, side by side, like a starting gate. All the doors were linked together, so they’d open at the same time. Bolted to the top of the boxes was an upside-down bicycle with no front tire. The back tire had been replaced with a small wire cable that ran to a pulley on a tree across the pond and back—a continuous loop. A small cage hung by the wire and inside the cage was a wily bandit.

  I pointed at the coon. “Cameron, I ain’t seen one of those since you opened the door to our cage and got all scratched up and ate on.”

>   He stuck out his tongue at me. “You’re still a moron.”

  I puffed up as best I could. “Why do you keep saying that?”

  “Cindy, she’s Randy’s cousin, Mr. Jordan’s niece. She told him what Hillman said. They set you up.”

  “Well, I didn’t know. You thought it was a coincidence too. She just told Mr. Jordan what Hillman said. It was Mr. Jordan’s idea to let me drive.”

  Cameron’s nose wrinkled. “Moron, moron.”

  Ed bent to inspect the boxes. “They’re going to have four races today. Got twelve dogs, so four will swim in the first three races. The three winners will swim in the last one to determine the champion.

  “Ty, why don’t you run the boxes? The boys will load their own dogs, so you don’t risk getting bit. They have a starting pistol. It shoots blanks. When it goes off, just pull the rope. All the doors will open at the same time. Cameron, you get to ferry the coon. Give it a try.”

  Cameron grabbed the bike pedals with both hands and gave them a whirl. The cage and its captive sped across the pond a couple of feet above the water’s surface.

  Ed put a hand on Cameron’s shoulder. “That’s good, but not so fast. You want to keep the cage just out of their reach. They’ve rigged the bike so it pedals both ways. Bring the coon back to the edge of the water. That should be a good starting point for you. This won’t take long, and we’ll go get a bite to eat before I take you home.”

  Oh, yeah. Me and Cameron slapped hands.

  Cameron looked like a three-year-old sitting in front of a pile of honey-soaked pancakes. “Boy, Ty. Too bad ole Jake ain’t here to run this. I bet he’d do good.”

  “I bet he would too.”

  The first four dogs to race were Jake look-alikes, and boy, did they have a set of lungs. The baying and howling the likes I never heard before. I’d have been proud to count any of them as my friend.

  We got them in the boxes. Cameron eased the cage back, and they got wind of the coon. They bayed together, like they knew the same song.

  Men lined the pond, but most sat in the bleachers at the finish line. They visited and smoked cigars and cigarettes, or chewed tobacco.