Me and John Clayton walked back to the breadbox to talk about Doctor Carl, but Ears, Donnie, and Tiny were sitting there so we had to wait until we were alone. Course we’d tried to tell ’em all the stuff about Doctor Carl and Miss Tina, but they all just thought we were making it up because we had gotten caught being in the hotel and throwing rocks through the hotel windows.
“Hey, John Clayton, let’s tell ’em ’bout old man Odom,” I whispered.
“Yeah.”
“Y’all ain’t gonna believe this!” yelled John Clayton as we walked up. “Y’all know me and Richard put one of old man Odom’s melons on his front porch, and, man, is he all worked up. He’s wavin’ a ten-dollar bill round tellin’ us he’ll give it to us if we can steal another melon from his patch.”
“Let me tell you a thing or two ’bout that,” said Ears. “Me and Daddy was out at his place just yesterday to buy some sweet corn, and he was out in that melon patch rigging it with fishin’ line and cowbells. You ain’t never gonna slip in there again without being heard. Shoot, he pulled Daddy aside and whispered something in his ear, and later Daddy told me whatever I did, don’t set foot in that watermelon patch.”
“Yeah,” said Donnie, “he told Daddy he couldn’t wait for one of them watermelon thieves to return. Said he has a big surprise for ’em.”
“Heck,” I said, “no more daylight raids. If we get one of them big melons, it’s gonna hafta to be a night raid, but before anybody goes in that patch we need to see what happens when someone pulls one of those fishin’ lines. I’ll bet it’s a lot more than just a cow bell ringin’.”
“Yeah, you better find out, ’cause old man Odom was so mad I wouldn’t put nothin’ past him,” said Ears.
Everybody drifted off leaving me and John Clayton sitting there still talking about old man Odom’s watermelon patch and his ten-dollar dare.
“Why don’t we check it out tonight?” suggested John Clayton. “Heck, we need something to take our mind off that sorry Doctor Carl.”
“Yeah, maybe we can figure out what he’s got rigged up and then come back another night to get a melon.”
So me and John Clayton made plans to meet about dusk, and I walked home. I felt a little better now that Peg totally believed us. Sniffer was a little better and now he was eating table scraps and he could stand up and move around some.
When I got home I found Momma out in the barn milking Old Jersey, her milk cow. When Momma got her part-time job as a switchboard operator she bought Old Jersey with her first paycheck. She wouldn’t let anybody milk the cow, which suited me just fine. I walked up just as she was finishing up.
Heck, I might as well talk with her right now about what Miss Emma told me to say to her.
“Momma, I need to talk with you.”
Momma put the pail of milk over on top of a feed sack and turned around and waited for me to start.
“Momma, please let me finish everything I have to say. Okay?”
“Richard, what have you been into now?”
“Aw, Momma, it’s not ’bout gettin’ into stuff. This is serious.”
“Okay, Richard, tell me.”
“Momma, I had a long talk with Miss Emma down at the Randolph Hotel the other day, and she told me to tell you something.”
“What?”
“Momma, you promised I could finish.”
“Okay, go ahead Richard.”
“I told her ’bout Miss Simpson and Daddy.”
“You told her about what!” Momma screamed. “How do you know about that?”
Gosh, I’ve seen Momma upset before, but never as nervous and mad as she was right then.
“Well, Momma, I overheard you and Daddy fussin’, and I could tell you’ve been real upset. Now, you promised, let me finish.” Momma leaned back against the barn door, her eyes were moist, and she was about ready to cry.
Well, I just blurted it out: “Momma, Miss Emma said for you to be patient, and she said Daddy can’t help it. It’s just like his drinkin’. But you know what, Momma? She said Daddy loves you and everything is gonna be all right, if you just hang in there.”
I can count the times on one hand that I’ve seen my Momma cry, but this broke all records. She ran over and grabbed me, and for what seem like forever she cried and cried. Finally, she stopped, wiped her eyes, and gave me another hug.
“Richard, I’m sorry about how things have been around her for the last few months, but Emma may be right, maybe we do just need a little patience. We’ll see.”
We went in for supper, but before supper we pulled up a couple of chairs to the kitchen table and listened to Walter Winchell’s newscast.
“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. North and South America and all the ships at sea lets go to press … U. S. Marines attack … Japs reeling … 150 Zeroes shot down…”
And on and on he went about how we were just mopping up them sorry Japs, and saying the War couldn’t last but a few more weeks.
I’d been so worried about the War that nothing else had been on my mind the last few months, but now Miss Simpson and Doctor Carl just overshadowed everything.
“Richard! Richard!”
It was almost dusk when I heard John Clayton yell at me from the front yard.
“Momma, I’m goin’ frog giggin’ with John Clayton.” I jumped up from the table and ran out the door. Momma just nodded.
We headed for downtown, hid our frog gigs and toe sacks behind Echols Grocery, and soon we were walking down the road to old man Odom’s farm. In fifteen minutes we were almost there.
“Look, there’s his house. Let’s head for those woods behind his field,” I said.
In a few minutes we were standing in the woods looking over old man Odom’s farm.
“Well, it sure ain’t very dark―dang, a full moon,” whispered John Clayton.
In the moonlight, we could see the whole farm, and outside of a little light in the kitchen, it looked as if no one was around.
“Shoot, Richard, this looks too easy. Let’s get in the corn patch and slip up real close.”
We ran from the woods to the corn field, and then we crawled slowly through the corn stalks until we were right at the edge of the corn field looking out over the big watermelon patch.
“My gosh, look at that huge watermelon over on the edge of the patch. I’ll bet he’s doing that special water feedin’ again,” I whispered.
“Yeah, but look at the fishin’ line! It’s all over the place. Do you think you can step over it and still pick up one of those melons?”
“Well, maybe―Say, I wonder what happens if you pull the fishin’ line?”
“Heck, it probably just rings one of those cowbells and lets old man Odom know somebody’s in his watermelon patch. Heck, we could be back in the woods before he gets outta the house. Let’s get that big one and high-tail it outta here.”
“Well, yeah, I think that might work, but Ears said there was something else.”
About that time I heard something over to the left of where we were crouched.
“Shusss, I hear something,” I whispered. Something was moving through the corn field, heading straight for us.
“Richard, what is it?”
“Danged if I know, but get ready to run!―Wait, I can see it!”
It was closer now and I could make out a dark blur coming down one of the rows.
“It’s a big old coon,” I whispered. I clapped my hand together, hissed, and the coon wheeled around and dashed out into the watermelon patch. He ran right through the strands of fishing line as bells rang and then there was a huge “Boom,” which scared us half to death. Shotgun shot ripped through the melon patch.
“Dang!” I whispered as I flattened out on the ground, “We’d be dead right now if that coon hadn’t tripped those lines!”
The coon had gotten tangled up in the fishing line tied to all the watermelons. Mean old man Odom had set up a shotgun to shoot out into the patch if anyone pulled the fishing line. We lay sprawled out, face
down on the ground, frozen in place, too scared to make a move. But just then the back door of old man Odom’s house flew open, and out he dashed heading for the patch. The coon was struggling like crazy trying to get untangled and away from that shotgun, but before he could clear the patch, “Boom,” old man Odom nailed him.
“Oh, hell,” he grumbled, “just another damn coon.”
I guess he figured it was getting late and that trying to rig up the fishing lines and cow bells to the shotgun was going to take awhile, so he just looked the patch over and walked back inside. For the first time we started breathing again.
“We coulda been killed!” I whispered.
“Yeah, I’m never coming even close to this dang watermelon patch again,” said John Clayton. “Let’s go.”
“Hold it. The coon tore up all the fishing line and cow bells and old man Odom sure didn’t reload the shotgun. Heck, we can just walk out in that patch and pick up any ten-dollar melon we want.”
John Clayton smiled and we slipped out into the patch, picked the biggest melon we could find, and started hauling it back to town.
“Dang it, I told you we should have brought the wagon. This is the heaviest thing I’ve ever carried.” We struggled the mile back to Norphlet, and hid the melon in the weeds behind Echols Grocery.
I went to sleep that night and for the first time in a while I didn’t worry about Daddy, Doctor Carl, or nobody. I couldn’t wait to get downtown and let old man Odom see that watermelon.
I was out the door just a little before five the next morning, and ran up to the newsstand almost on time, finished the papers, had breakfast, and headed back to downtown to wait on old man Odom to come into town to buy groceries. John Clayton was already at the breadbox waiting on me. In a few minutes we’d carried the melon around from the back of the store and put it between us. It was a Wednesday, and we knew for durn sure, that at about ten o’clock old man Odom would be coming by the grocery store. Sure enough, right at ten, he drove up in his old truck and parked right in front of the store.
“Okay, John Clayton, just smile like crazy and don’t say a word.”
“Dang, Richard, this is gonna be so much fun.”
Old man Odom jumped out like he was in a hurry and slammed the truck door as he made a beeline for the store. He looked like he had something on his mind, and then he glanced over at me, and course I was smiling to beat sixty. I think he was going to walk right past us, but he saw the huge watermelon sitting right smack between us, and he stopped dead in his tracks. His mouth dropped open and before he could say a word John Clayton said, “I believe you owe us ten dollars, Mr. Odom.”
Old man Odom’s couldn’t speak for a few seconds, then he screamed, “Ohooooo, ohoooooo, you, you, little thieves! I’m gonna have you both arrested!”
Well, he started running around yelling about thieves and swearing so loud you could hear him in the grocery store. Boy, it was some kinda scene, and it wasn’t but a minute until Mr. Echols came out the door.
“Slim, Slim, looky here! That’s my watermelon! Them thieves stole it last night! I’m goin’ to get Curly and have him arrest these boys!”
Boy, was he mad. His face was as red as a beet, and he was just huffing and puffing about thieves, world-record watermelons, and seeing us rot in jail.
“Wait a minute, Henry, you’re not the only person around here that grows watermelons. Boys, where did y’all get that melon?”
“We got it out of Mr. Odom’s watermelon patch,” I said.
“What?” Mr. Echols just couldn’t believe that we’d admit to stealing the watermelon.
“See, see, Slim! They even got the gall to admit it. Ohooo, wait till I get the law on ’em!”
Mr. Echols looked at us again and said, “Now boys, you just don’t steal a watermelon and bring it to town to show off. What’s goin’ on?”
“Mr. Echols, Mr. Odom stopped us last week and dared us to try to steal one of his watermelons. He said he would give us a ten-dollar bill if we did.”
“Hey, wait a minute Slim. I was just kiddin’.”
“Henry, did you say that?”
Me and John Clayton both chimed in, “Yes sir, he did. He even waved the ten- dollar bill at us.”
“Now, Henry, did you?”
“Well, hell, Slim, I might’ve said somethin’ like that, but I was just kiddin’.”
“Huh, you waved a ten-dollar bill at these boys, and dared them to try to steal a watermelon, and then when they did, you’re all upset? Is that right, Henry?”
“Hell, Slim, the onlyest way they coulda got one of them melons was after that damn coon set off the shotgun, and I went to bed without reloadin’ it.”
“Shotgun? What in the hell are you talking about Henry? You set up a shotgun that could have killed somebody, just for stealing a lousy watermelon?”
Boy, Mr. Echols was really mad, because he had two boys that sure would get into a watermelon patch if they had half a chance.
“Slim, it just was to scare ’em. It was pointed up in the air.”
“No, no, Mr. Echols. It was pointed straight out in the patch,” I said.
“Henry, you could be arrested for doing something like that. Now, I’m going to forget I heard you say anything about a shotgun. Go take that damn thing up right now, and if I hear you’ve set it up again, I won’t call Curly, I’ll call the State Police. Now give those boys that ten-dollar bill.”
Old man Odom was embarrassed about the shotgun and losing the melon bet, but he reached up, unbuttoned his bib overalls pocket, and took out the ten-dollar bill he’d waved around. He threw it in our direction, stomped away, and roared off in his old truck.
Mr. Echols shook his head and looked our way; “Boys that was a dumb thing y’all did. What if you had walked out in that melon patch before that coon set off the shotgun? You could’ve been killed.”
“We’re sorry, Mr. Echols, and we promise we’ll never go in anybody’s watermelon patch again,” I said. Course, I had my fingers and toes crossed.
“Humph,” and Mr. Echols walked back in the store. I’m sure he didn’t believe us, but now we had old man Odom’s ten dollars, and we felt rich!
“Yahoo!” I yelled, “let’s go to the drug store for some sodas.”
“Yeah, but first I wanta stop by Doc’s and get five or six funny books and a couple of Baby Ruths,” said John Clayton.
When I got back home later that day I had a big stack of new funny books and several candy bars, and I was already sick at my stomach from the milk shakes and sodas at the Red Star Drug Store.
Momma seemed to be more patient about Daddy’s fooling around after my talk about what Miss Emma had said. Things didn’t get back to normal, but they were a little better. Momma made me repeat what Miss Emma said a bunch of times, and she always made me go back over the part where Miss Emma said Daddy loved her. I’d saved two dollars of the money I got from old man Odom for Momma’s birthday present which was tomorrow, but I couldn’t think of nothing to buy her. I was sitting at the kitchen table when she came in from milking Old Jersey, complaining about the beat-up bucket she was using to milk in, and I knew right then what I’d get Momma for her birthday present.
I tried for the paper route delivery record that next morning, but I missed it by two minutes.
“Doc, next Monday when the papers are real light I’m gonna break that record!” Doc just laughed and patted the big Baby Ruth he’d put on the cash register.
“The Baby Ruth is still here Richard! You can’t deliver those papers in forty-five minutes, and you know it.”
“We’ll see, Doc. Just keep that Baby Ruth right there, ’cause one morning I’m gonna have it for breakfast.”
“Ha—fat chance of that!”
I was back downtown that morning waiting for Boynton’s Hardware store to open. There was a bright, shiny, aluminum bucket on the back shelf that I’d seen when I was in buying fish hooks last week, and it would be a perfect milk bucket. Momma was out in the y
ard pulling weeds outta her flower bed when I got back home with the milk bucket.
“Look, Momma, Happy Birthday!” I handed her the milk bucket and she seemed startled for just a minute, but then she said, “Why Richard, it’s beautiful, and you know how much I needed it. Oh, thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome, Momma. What else did you get?”
Momma hesitated a bit and then just bent down and started pulling weeds again. I knew Daddy never missed her birthday.
“Well,” I said, “what did Daddy get you?”
Then Momma turned and looked at me, and I wished I could have taken those words back. Her lip trembled and she shook her head as she started to cry.
“Oh, Momma, don’t cry. Please don’t cry Momma. Maybe Daddy will bring you something when he comes home from work.”
“No, he won’t Richard, but thanks again for remembering my birthday.”
Momma went back to pulling weeds, and I went around behind the barn where nobody could see me. I was so sad. Things were just terrible around our house. I sat down at the spot where I usually practiced shooting marbles and instead of practicing marbles, I cried.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Letters and Snakes
I went to sleep that night knowing Daddy was out again, and I’d have bet a thousand dollars he was at Miss Simpson’s house. It was another restless night and I was dead-dog tired when I got to Doc’s to deliver papers the next morning. I went through the motions of delivering the papers without even thinking about what I was doing. Momma and Daddy were sure a problem, but that dang Yankee doctor was a whole lot worse.
Later that morning we were down at the breadbox trying to come up with some way to let people know these people were crooks from Burlington, Vermont, but nothing seemed possible. They were the two most popular people in Norphlet, and we were, according to what people thought, low-account kid criminals.
Then as if things weren’t bad enough, Miss Tina walked up.
“Hi, boys, still here, uh? Thought you’d be in Texarkana by now. Well, it won’t be long, I promise,” and as she left she whispered, “You little ruffians!”
Lyin' Like a Dog, The Yankee Doctor, The Danged Swamp! 3-Volume set Page 31