Getting a divorce is almost unheard of in Norphlet. We had one family get a divorce a few years ago, and everybody is still talking about it. I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. Sure enough I found John Clayton in the newsstand trying to decide which funny book to buy with the dime he had.
“John Clayton, come here quick! We need to talk.”
We dashed out of the newsstand and across the street to the breadbox and jumped upon the top, and I blurted out the story of Daddy, Miss Simpson, and Momma saying we were leaving and moving to Oklahoma. John Clayton was as upset as I was.
“Richard, we’ll never see each other again, and you’ll be leavin’ all your friends. We gotta stop this from happenin’.”
“Yeah, but how? We’re just twelve-year-old kids. How in the heck can we do anything?”
“I don’t know, but we gotta come up with something. Say, you know maybe you’re Momma is just guessin’. Heck, they may not be doin’ nothin’.”
“Well, you could be right, and I would sure feel a lot better if I could know for sure.”
“Shoot, Richard, if something’s goin’ on we can durn sure find out ’bout it. We’ll just keep checkin’ out Miss Simpson’s house. Remember last year when we spotted that guy goin’ into Mrs. Smith’s house, and then later that summer they got married? Well, if your Daddy is seein’ Miss Simpson, we can find out. The next time your Daddy leaves the house at night, call me and I’ll meet you downtown, and we’ll do a little window walkin’.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”
Heck, we didn’t hafta wait very long, ’cause the very next day Daddy got up from the supper table and told Momma he had to go into town for something and Momma shook her head, but she didn’t say nothing. She followed Daddy out to the car and as soon as they were out of the house I grabbed the phone and called John Clayton.
“Hurry, I’ll meet you in the bushes behind Miss Simpson’s house,” I whispered and quickly hung up the phone. I heard Momma say, something like, “don’t believe you,” and she left Daddy getting in the car and walked back in the house.
“Momma, I’m gonna run over to John Clayton’s house and trade these funny books,” I yelled as I ran out the door with a handful of funny books. Momma was so upset she barely noticed I was leaving the house, pushed through the gate, headed downtown, and ran as fast as I could to Miss Simpson’s house where I slipped into some bushes beside her bedroom window.
“Richard, shusss,” whispered John Clayton. “I’m over here.”
I crept over to where John Clayton was hiding behind some tall azalea bushes, and we waited. About thirty minutes passed and nothing happened. In fact there wasn’t even a light on in Miss Simpson’s house, and I was just about to breathe a little easier, when I looked down the sidewalk, and I saw someone walking toward the house. Oh, my gosh! As he passed under the streetlight I could tell it was Daddy. He got almost to Miss Simpson’s house and stopped, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it as he looked around. Not a soul was in sight, and he certainly couldn’t see us crouched behind the azalea bushes.
“Richard, don’t move, he’s comin’ round the side of the house,” whispered John Clayton.
Daddy left the sidewalk and walked beside Miss Simpson’s house not ten feet away from where we were hiding. He got to the back of the house and rapped very softly on the back door, and then I heard a click as the door was unlocked and someone said, “Jack?”
“Yes, Helen.” The door opened and Daddy slipped in.
I heard the lock click again and then nothing. We waited around for almost an hour, but Daddy didn’t come out and the house remained dark as pitch.
“Whata you think they’re doin’,” I whispered to John Clayton.
“I dunno, probably foolin’ round―whatever they’re doing it’s in the dark.”
So now we knew that Daddy and Miss Simpson were seeing each other, and I was just sick worrying that this was gonna break up our family and I was gonna be heading for Oklahoma away from all my friends.
Me and John Clayton talked about it a bunch of times, but we couldn’t come up with nothing to do. Momma was so sad; you could see in her eyes. She didn’t say much when Daddy was home, and she tried to keep things from being too bad so I wouldn’t be upset.
I guess if this had been all that was on my mind last summer it wouldn’t have been so bad, but the return visit to see the judge was the next day, and boy oh boy was I nervous about that. That night, before the hearing the next day, I just lay there in my bed staring at the ceiling. After the hotel windows were broken I’d been perfect around the house and even in town, but now I realized that in the morning none of that mattered a whit. Me and John Clayton was gonna be standing before a judge with almost no hope of convincing him that we were innocent. I’d told John Clayton that they don’t send kids to prison, but I’d just made that up. Heck, maybe they do send kids to a kid prison, and before this time tomorrow we’d be in handcuffs and drug off to some cell where we’d spend several years locked up for something we didn’t do. I couldn’t sleep, and finally, with the clock showing four-fifteen, I got up and walked down to the newsstand. When Doc drove up at five o’clock, me and Sniffer was sitting on the curb in front of the newsstand. Doc got out of his car and slowly made it over to where we were sitting.
“Richard, what are you doing here this early?”
“Oh, Doc, I couldn’t sleep. We gotta go before the judge today, and Doc, what if they send me and John Clayton to prison?”
“Richard, they are not gonna send two twelve-year-old boys to prison for breaking a window. Stop worrying.”
Well that gave me a little hope and I began to think that maybe the judge would be easy on us if he got some good reports from other people.
“Say, Doc, did you mail that letter to the judge?”
“Yes, I did. Now get going on your paper route.”
I grabbed my paper bag and walked out into the dark where Sniffer was waiting, and we started for the first house.
Me and Sniffer finished the route, headed back home, and after breakfast―which was a bunch tenser than usual because of the court hearing―we got in the car and headed for El Dorado. Momma and Daddy had calmed down a little after I told them the “I’m innocent” story so many times that they at least had some doubts. Doc had written a letter to the judge telling him how hard a worker I am, and Mrs. Smith, one of my teachers, also wrote a letter telling him I was a good student, and outside of a little trouble with a bully last year, I was never a problem at school. I hoped the letters would count for something. However, we weren’t prepared for what hit us when we were standing there before the judge. I still shake just thinking about it.
“Richard Harper Mason, John Clayton Reed, please approach the bench,” said Judge Barnes. Judge Barnes kinda looked over the top of his glasses and gave us a frown like, “I can’t believe I’m having to deal with bad kids.” Then he said, “You boys have been charged with malicious, mischievous, and felony destruction of property. What have you got to say for yourselves?”
John Clayton looked like he was gonna choke to death if he had to say anything, and after a long pause I barely managed to get a few words out: “Sir, we didn’t do it. I promise, cross my heart, and hope to die!” I ended on a high-pitched squeak because my voice was changing, and for the first time the judge made a little smile. Then he picked up some papers and said, “Well, I have three letters concerning this matter. I’ll read them to you.”
First, the judge read the letter from Mrs. Smith, our teacher, which said we were good students and never, well, almost never―caused any trouble, and we began to feel a little better. Then he pulled out Doc’s letter, and his letter sounded even better when Doc told how I came to work every morning at five o’clock, and I never missed a person on my route. The judge seemed impressed and even nodded his head in satisfaction as he read the letter. I was almost ready to smile when he pulled out the third letter.
“This letter is from Doc
tor Carl Donaldson.”
Well, I almost stopped breathing when I heard the judge say Doctor Carl’s name, and I whispered to John Clayton, “Oh my gosh, this is gonna be terrible,”
Judge Barnes unfolded the letter and started to read;
Dear Judge Barnes:
My office is adjacent to the Central Hotel on Front Street in downtown Norphlet. Since moving to Norphlet my practice has grown tremendously, and consequently I am in my office more and more each day providing needed medical services to the citizens of Norphlet. Because of the great influx of patients I sometimes keep long hours, and many times I return late at night to catch up on paperwork. Over the past several months we have had numerous acts of vandalism in downtown Norphlet and on several occasions I have observed the two boys charged, Richard Mason and John Clayton Reed, in the vicinity, and at times running away from the scene of the vandalism.
Last Sunday night I stopped by the office to pick up some paperwork, and I was inside when I heard a crashing noise. I walked to the front of the office and saw Richard Mason and John Clayton Reed running down the sidewalk past the hotel. There was glass all over the sidewalk from two broken windows in the Central Hotel.
Judge Barnes, during these times when everyone in the country is working together to win the War, the act of vandalism is repugnant to every patriotic American. I hesitate to recommend such a harsh punishment, but I believe these boys should be sent to Reform School as an example to other who might attempt to tear our country down during wartime.
Sincerely
Doctor Carl Donaldson
Me and John Clayton stood there just about to die, and I could feel my knees start to shake. Finally, John Clayton just looked at me and whispered, “We’re gonna get sent to reform school for years and years!”
I made a little “Ahaaa,” like it was my last breath on earth, and then I heard our
mommas start to cry. It was the worst day in my whole, entire life.
“Boys, step forward,” said Judge Barnes.
Wow, when we walked up in front of the judge, with him just starring a hole in us, it was like being on death row waiting for the man to pull the switch on the electric chair. Then, after what seemed forever, he cleared his throat and said in a real loud voice that just seemed to blow us back, “I’m not goin’ to send you to reform school…this time. But if I see either one of you back in this courtroom, I’ll have you on a bus to Texarkana before you know it! Now, do you understand me?”
“Yes sir, yes sir.”
Then he looked at us and said, “I find you guilty of all charges. However, since your fathers repaired the damage done and this is your first offense, you will serve six months probation in the custody of your parents. Then the judge looked at us right in the eye and said, “In addition to being on six months probation, I fine you each twenty-five dollars.”
Twenty-five dollars? Where on god’s green earth am I gonna get twenty-five dollars?
He slammed the wooden hammer down, and we walked back to where our parents were sitting. Well, Momma and Mrs. Reeves were still crying, Daddy and Mr. Reeves looked liked they could bite nails, and me and John Clayton looked kinda like two whipped-up-on yard dogs as we walked outta the courthouse with our folks. Before we left the courthouse, Daddy and Mr. Reeves paid the two fines and Daddy handed me the receipt.
“Take this down to the newsstand and tell Doc not to give you a cent of your paper route money until this is paid off.”
I looked at the receipt and I thought, Paying this off at three-fifty a week― my gosh, I’ll be delivering papers until Christmas for free.
I tucked the receipt in my back pocket, and we started walking to the car.
“What’s probation?” said John Clayton as we walked along.
“Boys, it means if you do anything else, just one little thing, the judge will send you both to the reform school in Texarkana without even a hearing,” said Mr. Reeves.
Well, the ride home was horrible. Momma was crying and just kept saying over and over, “Oh, I can’t believe a boy of mine would do such a thing,” and Daddy was threatening me with the worst switching of my whole, entire life.
The judge’s probation weren’t nothing compared to what Daddy came up with. When we got home Daddy yanked me outta the car and beat the tar out of me with a big thick hickory switch, and then we headed for the barn.
“Son, I guess you’ve got to much free time on your hands. Maybe if you’re busy you won’t be running around throwing rocks through windows. Come on, let’s go in the barn.”
Daddy walked in the barn and picked up a shovel. “Here, Richard, you’re going to know this shovel real well before you’re through. I want every bit of this cow and mule manure out of this barn and hauled to the garden. Now get busy and don’t stop until I tell you.”
I looked at the two mule stalls and then the big open area where Momma keeps Old Jersey our milk cow, and I almost cried. The switching weren’t nothing compared to hundreds and hundreds of pounds of manure that had to be shoveled in the wheelbarrow and then pushed out behind the barn to the garden. But there was no choice. As mad as Daddy was I could have gotten another switching just for whining, and then hafta clean the barn out, too.
Hours later I was sitting on the back steps of our house having a drink of water when Momma came out to check on me. When Momma looked at me sitting there, about to start crying again, I knew she was feeling real sorry for me and maybe even thinking I didn’t do all the stuff Doctor Carl had said I did. I was right.
“Richard, I want you to know, I’ve been thinking about everything that happened, and I don’t believe you broke those windows.”
“Oh, Momma,” and I began to cry. Finally, someone believed me! It was such a relief that I couldn’t help crying.
“Richard, I’m so sorry,” and Momma reached down and gave me a big hug.
“Momma, look at my hands,” I held them up for Momma to see. They had big open blisters all across the palms where the shovel had rubbed them.
“Jack, Jack, come here!”
Boy, she was really upset.
Daddy walked out and Momma, who now really felt sorry for me, lit into him.
“Jack, just look at Richard’s hands! You should be ashamed for having him shovel all afternoon! You know he’s not used to handling a shovel, and let me tell you another thing! I don’t believe Richard broke those windows!”
Daddy was sure on the defense, but even though Momma said she thought I was at least a little bit innocent, he still didn’t believe me. However, he did say I could stop shoveling manure which was at least something.
That night I couldn’t sleep, and when I did doze off I’d dream of reform school and some old guard beating me with a stick, and then my dream would be me getting on a train to Oklahoma and all my friends waving good-bye.
CHAPTER NINE
Miss Simpson
I woke up the next morning still upset about being on probation, wondering exactly what it would take to break probation and get sent to reform school.
“Come on Sniffer, let’s go. We’re almost late.” I ran all the way into town and burst into the newsstand at just a few minutes after five. Shoot, maybe just being late would be enough for the judge to send me off to Texarkana, so I sure wasn’t gonna take no chances. Doc was sure surprised that I was almost on time. I ran my paper route in almost a record, and headed downtown to find John Clayton. I was waiting for him at the breadbox before eight o’clock; then finally, a little before nine, he walked up.
“Dang, you lazy so-in-so, I thought you were gonna sleep all day.”
“Sleep? Sleep? As soon as we got back from El Dorado yesterday I got switched, and I’ve been workin’ like a danged dog ever since. Daddy had me up at six this mornin’ hoeing in the garden. This whole probation thing is gonna kill us!”
“Yeah, but just think; if that sorry, stinkin’ Doctor Carl does anything else we’re gonna be on the next bus to Texarkana, and that’ll be a dang lot worser t
han workin’ round the house.”
“Richard, what are we gonna do? Every time I see that old sot Curly Sawyer, I just shake, thinkin’ he’s gonna walk over and arrest us.”
“Shoot, the way things are goin’ round my house I won’t be here for Curly to arrest. I’ll be in Oklahoma. Daddy’s got to stop seein’ Miss Simpson.”
“Richard, I’ve been thinkin’ ’bout how you could get ’em to stop seein’ each other.”
“Huh? How?”
“Well, you know you can’t even breathe that we know to your daddy, ’cause he’d whip you within an inch of your life for peekin’ in on their foolin’ round.”
“Yeah, one thing for sure, I’m not ’bout to talk to Daddy.”
“You can’t talk to your momma either. She’d just go crazy.”
“Yeah, so who?”
“You gotta go talk to Miss Simpson.”
“What? Me go talk to Miss Simpson? Are you kiddin’?”
“Nope, I’m not kiddin’. She’s the only one that can stop this thing.”
“Well, I guess Miss Simpson could just tell Daddy they were finished and it’d be over. Yeah, she could, but do you think she will?”
“Heck, Richard, she might if you tell her how upset you are, and how you don’t wanta move to Oklahoma. It’s worth a try.”
Me and John Clayton talked about it for at least an hour, and I was convinced that it might be worth a try. I told him I’d go down to the refinery office that afternoon, and when Miss Simpson got off work, I’d be standing by her car.
We were about to leave when John Clayton looked down the sidewalk and gasped, “Oh, dang, Richard, look! It’s Miss Tina and she’s headin’ right this way. Don’t say a word.”
“Don’t worry ’bout me; I wouldn’t speak to her if she was the last person on earth.”
Miss Tina started smiling before she even got to us. She was wearing a bright yellow dress with a lot of flowers on it and it came way down in the front, and I mean way down. When she got to us she stopped and looked around to be sure we were alone, and then she said real sweetly, “Hey, boys, I hear you may be taking a little trip to Texarkana―ha, ha.” Then she frowned and shook her head. “Ohoo, when I think of that damn cockroach running up my leg! You little ruffians are getting just what you deserve, and we’re not through with you yet; so you better start packing your bags!”
Lyin' Like a Dog, The Yankee Doctor, The Danged Swamp! 3-Volume set Page 26