Me and John Clayton met right before we went to the picture show, and I told him I had a plan to keep from getting stuck by the bull nettle.
“I’ve been thinkin’ ’bout it, John Clayton, and if we have that tug-a-war barefooted with no shirt and wearing shorts that bull nettle is gonna nearly kill us.”
“What ya mean, kill us? It ain’t gonna hurt none if we don’t get pulled through it.”
“No, it ain’t, but that sorry Homer Ray has got all the big kids in the class on his team, and we just might lose.”
John Clayton stood there a few seconds, and I could almost see him thinking. Heck, he knew we were gonna be lucky if we didn’t get drug half way across Norphlet when that tug-a-war started.
“Well, yeah, we might lose. What’s your plan?”
I told John Clayton my emergency plan, which was kinda sneaky, and after we talked about it for a while he okayed the plan.
“Shoot, Richard, it may not work, but anything is better than being drug through a bunch of bull nettle.”
“Okay, let’s go tell our team.”
About that time I saw Billy Ray and his brother Joe Rel coming our way, and we yelled for them to come over.
After I went over my plan, they agreed to find all our team and tell them the emergency plan in case we were about to lose.
“All right, Richard; we got it. See you after the picture show,” said Joe Rel.
Me and John Clayton headed back to my house in time for Daddy to take us to the Ritz. Heck, it was a double-feature Randolph Scott, who is our most un-favorite cowboy. But shoot, we were so excited about the upside-down funny book and the tug-a-war that we didn’t even do any of our usual Ritz tricks. On the way back from the picture show John Clayton said, “Richard, you’re actin’ like we don’t have a chance against that moron Homer Ray’s team. Heck, Billy Ray is strong as an ox, and Tiny is so big he’s gonna be hard as heck to pull across the line.”
“Listen, John Clayton, that danged Homer Ray and those big kids might drag us around like a bunch of rag dolls. Shoot, I don’t wanna take no chance of being pulled through bull nettle. We gotta try something. Maybe my plan will work.”
“Yeah, maybe, but I wish we hadn’t gotten ourselves into this mess.”
Well, we whined about the possibility of getting drug through a bunch of bull nettle until we got back to my house. We told my folks we were going over to the ball field to play and in a few minutes we were at the baseball field, waiting for our team to show up.
We’d told everybody to be there by two o’clock, and the last of our team walked up at five minutes until. Homer Ray’s team was all crowding around him laughing and acting like they were just gonna cream us when Homer Ray walked over to see if we were ready.
“Is this really your sorry team, Richard, two girls and two colored boys? Ha! Ha! Ha!” Then the rest of Homer Ray’s team hooted and yelled at us. Wow, I was so mad I couldn’t see straight and so was everybody else on our team.
“Okay, Richard, we’re stretchin’ out the rope. Get your team ready if they’re not too chicken.”
I turned to our team and yelled, “Is everybody ready?”
There was one big yell of “Yes!” and we started lining up on our side of the rope.
Both teams lined up and grabbed the rope, and Tiny and Homer Ray, who were the anchors for each team, tied the rope around their waists. I took a look around before we started and I was surprised to see nearly fifty more kids had come to watch. Rosalie came over and said to me, “Freckles and I are going to be yelling for your team, Richard. I hope you win.”
“We’re gonna win, Rosalie. You just watch.” ’Course, I didn’t believe a word of what I’d just said. Heck, I figured we’d get drug through that bull nettle patch in about two minutes, and it would all be over, and if my emergency plan didn’t work, we’d be covered in bull nettle blisters.
“Get ready! Get set! Pull!” yelled William Paul, an older boy who had agreed to be the judge.
Wow, that rope yanked tight, and I dug my heels in the sand and pulled with everything I had. Well, I’d never been in no tug-a-war before, and I was surprised at what happened then―nothing. Everybody just pulled as hard as they could, and the flag tied in the middle of the rope didn’t move in any direction. Heck, I guess we were all fresh and strong. Then things began to change. At first I felt my feet begin to slip and the flag in the middle of the rope moved toward Homer Ray’s team which was beginning to wear us down. About that time Freckles and Rosalie started running up and down our line, yelling for us to pull, and we dug in. As the girls screamed for us, we began pull Homer Ray’s team toward the bull nettle patch. Wow, now there was yelling and screaming from all the kids watching, and Homer Ray started hollering for his team to pull harder. We’d been pulling like crazy for about five minutes now, and my arms were hurting, I was gasping for breath, and sweat was running down my face. Heck, I thought if we could just pull them a little further, their first kid would be in the bull nettle.
“Come on! Pull! We’ve almost got ’em!” I screamed, and we pulled with all our might. There was a scream, and I knew the first kid on their team had been pulled into the bull nettle, but just as I thought we were about to win we ran outta steam, and the flag started inching back toward Homer Ray. Well, Homer Ray was yelling that they were winning, and sure enough I was getting closer and closer to the bull nettle.
Freckles, Rosalie, and a bunch of their friends were yelling, “Pull! Pull!” right in our ears, and we were straining and pulling like crazy. Then just as I thought they were gonna pull me into the bull nettle, we dug in and the flag slowly stopped and started moving back in our direction.
My gosh, it must have been a hundred and ten degrees out there. I was sweating like a dog, gasping for breath, and I could hear Connie and Naomi, who were right behind me, just screaming they were so tired. Heck, I knew we couldn’t hold out much longer, but then I looked over at Homer Ray and his team, and I could tell that they were about to die.
Oh, I wanted to quit so bad. My arms and legs were killing me and I was gasping for breath. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Then Homer Ray started say, “Now, pull! Hold! Now pull! Hold! Now pull!”
Well, every time he yelled “Pull!” we lost a little ground, and then we’d dig in and everyone would just hold our own, but then we’d hear, “Pull!” and we’d lose a little more. Heck, it didn’t take no genius to see that after a few minutes our team would be pulled into the bull nettle. My gosh, I started screaming, and Freckles and Rosalie ran up and down by our team, urging us to hold, but we were just dead on our feet.
“I can’t hold on no longer,” I heard Billy Ray yell.
Heck, Billy Ray was one of the strongest boys on our team, and if he let go it was all over.
“Hang on everybody and get ready!” I hollered. It was a desperate situation and I was almost to the first part of the big bull nettle patch. This was the emergency plan that I had Joe Rel tell all our team. If we were about to lose, I was gonna try something real crazy, and now I raised my head and yelled, “Ready! Now! One, two!”
Well, what happened was better than I ever expected. When I yelled “Now!” our team stood up and then when I yelled real quick, “One, two!” everybody took two steps forward. Wow, Homer Ray’s team were all leaning back pulling as hard as they could, and when we moved forward they fell backward on the ground. Then I yelled, “Pull! Pull! Pull!” as loud as I could, and we all yanked that danged rope as hard as we could. Some of Homer Ray’s team had turned loose of the rope when they fell back, and most of the others were scrambling to get up and grab the rope again as we just tore out pulling. In seconds, their first kid was right in the middle of the bull nettle patch screaming his head off, and then kids started piling up ’cause none of them wanted to get pulled into the patch. Heck, they just about quit pulling, and they scattered like a bunch of quail when they hit that bull nettle, except for Homer Ray, who had the rope tied around his middle and was b
eing slowly drug into the bull nettle patch. Wow you could’ve heard him scream for a mile when he fell down, and we drug a shirtless, barefooted, screaming Homer Ray through that bull nettle.
’Course, Homer Ray’s team accused us of cheating, but we told them they weren’t no rules so what we did was okay. That moron Homer Ray had red bull nettle blisters all over him, and most of the rest of his team did, too. Well, Homer Ray wanted a rematch, but, heck, we ain’t the smartest kids in the world, but we ain’t that dumb.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Disaster Strikes
Sunday afternoon John Clayton stopped by my house, and we were sitting on the front porch laughing about stupid Homer Ray being pulled into the bull nettle in the tug-a-war battle. Heck, Monday was the first day of school, and I couldn’t wait to tell everybody how Homer Ray looked with them blisters all over his body.
***
The next day at school, the three of us, who were partners in the upside-down funny book, were kinda special, and now, after Rosalie showed Mrs. Smith, our teacher, the World Book page about the stamps, even Mrs. Smith thought the upside-down funny book might be real valuable.
Well, after a few days, we got bored talking about the upside-down funny book because we hadn’t heard from the company that prints the funny books, and until we got the name of someone who’d buy it, we just had to wait.
That afternoon after school, John Clayton started talking about whether the State Police had raided the moonshine still, and if Curly had even turned them in.
“Heck, we ain’t got nothin’ else to do,” I said. “Let’s go back down in the swamp and see if they’re still runnin’ that still.” Well, John Clayton liked that idea, and we headed down the road to circle around by the highway to where we could sneak up to where the bootleggers were. We turned off the road and made our way through the woods until we were within a hundred yards of the shed where the big still was located, and then we stared crawling along on our hands and knees through the brush like Indian scouts.
“Stop, John Clayton,” I whispered. “That guard always walks by the big oak tree when he makes his rounds.”
“Yeah, Richard, and there he comes!”
Sure enough, we could hear leaves crunching as he walked around the back of the shed toward the road that came in from the O’Rear Cutoff. He stood there looking down the road a couple of minutes and then started walking toward the creek.
“Come on, let’s head for those bushes on the left-hand side of the shed,” I said. Well, me and John Clayton scurried along on all fours until we were in a dense clump of bushes where we could see everything that was going on, , wow, things were real busy. Heck, there was two cars and three trucks pulled over in a parking area, and several men were talking with the man they called Swampy. Another man was hauling out the little barrels and putting them in the back of the trucks, and then he put a couple in the trunk of an old blue car.
“Hey, that old black truck looks familiar,” I whispered.
“Yeah, I’ve seen it in Norphlet. Wait a minute; that’s Curly’s truck! I’m sure of it.”
“Uh, huh, I believe you’re right.”
Well, I looked around for Curly, but he wasn’t with the men who were standing outside, and for a minute I thought that might not be his truck. Then, after the cars and trucks were loaded, everyone left but the men that were working and whoever was driving that old black truck. About that time the door opened at the end of the shed where they had a little office, and Swampy walked out with another man.
“It’s Curly!” I whispered.
“Yeah!”
Well, for about ten minutes Curly and Swampy laughed and talked about all kinda stuff. Shoot, we could hear every word they said, and then Curly said something that really got our interest.
“Damn, Swampy, this here moonshinin’ is done gotten to be big time. When we made our deal you told me it was just gonna be a little operation.”
“Hell, Curly, I didn’t have no idea they was gonna be so many folks wanting to buy this stuff. I’m having to cut the moonshine with water just to keep up.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re doing good, but hell, Swampy, I’m having to really cover for you, and this operation is getting’ mighty hard to hide. Shoot, I even had a couple of kids try to tell me somethin’ was going on down in Flat Creek Swamp. ’Course, I told ’em I’d take care of it.”
Curly let out one of his big burping laughs, and I looked at John Clayton. He nodded his head like, “Yeah, that sorry constable is in on the deal.”
“I hear what you a-saying, Curly, and maybe you need a little something extra for the help you’re givin’ me.”
Well, old Curly kinda swelled up and throwed his shoulders back like he was some big shot, and Swampy pulled out his billfold.
“Here’s a couple of extra twenties, and if things stay real quiet, they’ll be more of ’em next time you’re down this way.”
“My gosh, John Clayton,” I whispered, “Curly’s being paid off! He’s part of the gang!”
Curly stuck the money in his pocket, shook Swampy’s hand, and headed for his truck. We’d seen enough, and soon we were creeping back through the brush heading for the road. We trotted through the rest of the woods until we came to the O’Rear Cutoff, and we walked along, heading back to my house.
“Dang, a big time moonshine-makin’ operation and a constable being paid off.” I said. “Can you believe that?”
“Yeah, and with Curly being paid off, and Marshal Wing in the hospital, there ain’t much we can do about it.”
“Well, we need to think of how to get word to the State Police. Them guys sure ain’t bein’ paid off.”
“Yeah, you’re right, but, shoot, they ain’t a state trooper in Norphlet, and anyway who’s gonna believe two eleven-year-old kids, who everybody knows is always pullin’ stuff?”
“Nobody.”
Heck, I hadn’t been back from the swamp but a few minutes when Daddy came roaring up in our old ’36 Chevy. He jumped out, yelling at me and Momma to come into the kitchen and listen to the radio.
“Earl Stevens at the refinery told me he’d heard the Japs have surrendered!” Daddy yelled as he twisted the radio dial and tried to find KELD. “Said there would be a special broadcast by Walter Winchell at five o’clock.”
“Are you sure, Jack?”
“Yeah, Sue. Earl has a short-wave radio that can pick up Chicago, and he said one of the stations up there said it happened.”
“Here, Daddy, let me have the dial.” Heck, since I listened to my radio programs a bunch more than anybody in the family, I could tune in them stations real quick.
“Okay, I got KELD,” I announced. “What time is the special broadcast?”
“In five minutes,” said Daddy.
Well, we sat there waiting for Walter Winchell to come on, and Momma and Daddy kept saying how glad they were the War was over, and Uncle J. R.’s squadron wouldn’t have to go over to bomb them Japs, when I heard the high, squealing, Yankee voice of Walter Winchell:
“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. North and South American and all the ship at sea. Lets go to press. Bulletin! Bulletin! This just in! The Japs have surrendered!”
’Course, he said a bunch more than that, but everybody was yelling so loud and hugging each other so much that we didn’t hear nothing else. Gosh, that danged War had seemed to last forever. I went to bed that night, and for the first time I didn’t worry about the soldiers from Norphlet that were over there fighting. Shoot, with the War over and with Rosalie as my girlfriend, I was almost smiling in my sleep. Yeah, and then just before I dozed off, I thought about the upside-down funny book. Rich! I’m only eleven years old, and I’m rich.
The next Monday me and John Clayton walked on the schoolyard like a couple of princes, and I met Rosalie at the steps. Heck, kids just crowded around us and tried to be our best friends, and even sorry Homer Ray was acting like he was a life-long pal instead of our worst enemy. Rosalie was smiling to beat sixty.
“Richard, we need to be careful because some of these kids are just gonna butter us up in hopes we’ll give them some of the money when we sell the funny book.”
“Oh, I know that, Rosalie. Shoot, even Homer Ray has been nice to me.”
“Well, Richard, I’m so proud of you. I just think you’re the smartest boy in the world to realize that upside-down funny book was worth a lot of money. How much do you think its worth?”
“Heck, Rosalie, them stamps ain’t much bigger than your thumb and the World Book said they’ve sold for thousands of dollars. A funny book is fifty times bigger than a little old stamp. There ain’t no telling how much that funny book is worth.”
“Oh, Richard, that’s wonderful. How long do you think it’s going to be before we hear from the company that makes the funny books?”
“Heck, I guess we’ll have a letter back next week. You know we may even have to take a train all the way to New York to deliver the funny book. Shoot, as valuable as it is, we sure couldn’t just mail it.”
“Oh, Richard, we might be taking a train together all the way to New York?”
“Yeah, Rosalie, but we’d probably hafta have one of our parents go with us.”
“Oh, Richard you are so smart you just amaze me. Gosh, maybe by next week we’ll have the name of some big funny book collector, and we’ll be on our way to New York to sell that funny book.”
“Yeah, Rosalie, and we’ll probably stay in one of them big hotels with room service, and, heck, maybe I’ll take you to a Broadway play.”
Lyin' Like a Dog, The Yankee Doctor, The Danged Swamp! 3-Volume set Page 13