by Wilson Rawls
“You just want to be stubborn,” Rubin said. “I’m ready for my money now.”
I asked him to wait a few minutes.
“Ain’t no use,” he said. “No hound yet ever treed that ghost coon.”
Hearing a whine, I turned around. Little Ann had crawled up on the log and was inching her way down the slick trunk toward the water. I held my lantern up so I could see better. Spraddle-legged, claws digging into the bark, she was easing her way down.
“You’d better get her out of there,” Rubin said. “If she gets down in that old tree top, she’ll drown.”
Rubin didn’t know my Little Ann.
Once her feet slipped. I saw her hind quarters fall off to one side. She didn’t get scared. Slowly she eased her legs back up on the log.
I made no reply. I just watched and waited.
Little Ann eased herself into the water. Swimming to the drift, she started sniffing around. In places it was thin and her legs would break through. Climbing, clawing, and swimming, she searched the drift over, looking for the lost trail.
I saw when she stopped searching. With her body half in the water, and her front feet curved over a piece of driftwood, she turned her head and looked toward the shore. I could see her head twisting from side to side. I could tell by her actions that she had gotten the scent. With a low whine, she started back.
I told Rubin, “I think she smells something.”
Slowly and carefully she worked her way through the tangled mass. I lost sight of her when she came close to the undermined bank. She wormed her way under the overhang. I could hear her clawing and wallowing around, and then all hell broke loose. Out from under the bank came the biggest coon I had ever seen, the ghost coon.
He came out right over Little Ann. She caught him in the old treetop. I knew she was no match for him in that tangled mass of limbs and logs. He fought his way free and swam for the opposite bank. She was right behind him.
Old Dan didn’t wait, look, or listen. He piled off the ten-foot bank and disappeared from sight. I looked for him. I knew he was tangled in the debris under the surface. I started to take off my overalls, but stopped when I saw his red head shoot up out of the water. Bawling and clawing his way free of the limbs and logs, he was on his way.
On reaching midstream, the ghost coon headed downriver with Little Ann still on his tail.
We ran down the riverbank. I could see my dogs clearly in the moonlight. The ghost coon was about fifteen feet ahead of Little Ann. About twenty-five yards behind them came Old Dan, trying so hard to catch up. I whooped to them.
Rubin grabbed a pole, saying, “He may come out on this side.”
Knowing the ghost coon was desperate, I wondered what he would do. Reaching a gravel bar below the high bank, we ran out on it to the water’s edge. Then the ghost coon did something that I never expected. Coming even with us, he turned from midstream and came straight for us.
I heard Rubin yell, “Here he comes!”
He churned his way through the shallows and ran right between us. Rubin swung his pole, missed the coon, and almost hit Little Ann. The coon headed for the river bottoms with her right on his heels.
The bawling of Little Ann and our screaming and hollering made so much noise, I didn’t hear Old Dan coming. He tore out of the river, plowed into me, and knocked me down.
We ran through the bottoms, following my dogs. I thought the ghost coon was going back to the sycamore log but he didn’t. He ran upriver.
While hurrying after them, I looked over at Rainie. For once in his life, I think he was excited. He was whooping and screaming, and falling over logs and limbs.
I felt good all over.
Glancing over at me, Rainie said, “They ain’t got him yet.”
The ghost coon crossed the river time after time. Seeing that he couldn’t shake Old Dan and Little Ann from his trail, he cut through the river bottoms and ran out into an old field.
At this maneuver, Rubin said to Rainie, “He’s heading for that tree.”
“What tree?” I asked.
“You’ll see,” Rainie said. “When he gets tired, he always heads for that tree. That’s where he gets his name, the ghost coon. He just disappears.”
“If he disappears, my dogs will disappear with him,” I said.
Rainie laughed.
I had to admit one thing. The Pritchard boys knew the habits of the ghost coon. I knew he couldn’t run all night. He had already far surpassed any coon I had ever chased.
“They’re just about there,” Rubin said.
Just then I heard Old Dan bark treed. I waited for Little Ann’s voice. I didn’t hear her. I wondered what it could be this time.
“He’s there all right,” Rubin said. “He’s in that tree.”
“Well, come on,” I said. “I want to see that tree.”
“You might as well get your money out,” Rainie said.
I told him he had said that once before, back on the riverbank.
XIII
COMING UP TO THE TREE, I COULD SEE IT WAS A HUGE BUR oak. It wasn’t tall. It was just the opposite, rather low and squatty. The top was a thick mass of large limbs, and it hadn’t shed all of its leaves yet.
It stood by itself in an old field. There were no other trees within fifty yards of it. About fifteen feet to the left were the remains of a barbed-wire fence. An old gate hung by one rusty hinge from a large corner post. I could tell that at one time a house had stood close by.
Rubin saw me looking around. “A long time ago some Indians lived here and farmed these fields,” he said.
I walked around the tree looking for the coon, but could see very little in the dark shadows.
“Ain’t no use to look,” Rubin said. “He won’t be there.”
Rainie spoke up. “This ain’t the first time we’ve been to this tree,” he said.
Rubin told Rainie to shut up. “You talk too much,” he said.
In a whining voice, Rainie said, “Rubin, you know the coon ain’t in that tree. Make him pay off and let’s go home. I’m getting tired.”
I told Rubin I was going to climb the tree.
“Go ahead,” he said. “It won’t do you any good.”
The tree was easy to climb. I looked all over it, on each limb, and in every dark place. I looked for a hollow. The ghost coon wasn’t there. I climbed back down, scolded Old Dan to stop his loud bawling, and looked for Little Ann.
I saw her far up the old fence row, sniffing and running here and there. I knew the ghost coon had pulled a real trick, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. Little Ann had never yet barked treed. I knew if the coon was in the tree she wouldn’t still be searching for a trail.
Old Dan started working again.
My dogs covered the field. They circled and circled. They ran up and down the barbed-wire fence on both sides.
I knew the coon hadn’t walked the barbed wire. Ghost or no ghost, he couldn’t do that. I walked over to the old gate and looked around. I sat down and stared up into the tree. Little Ann came to me.
Old Dan, giving up his search, came back to the tree and bawled a couple of times. I scolded him again.
Rubin came over. Leering at me, he said, “You give up?”
I didn’t answer.
Little Ann once again started searching for the lost trail. Old Dan went to help her.
Rainie said, “I told you that you couldn’t tree the ghost coon. Why don’t you pay off so we can go home?”
I told him I hadn’t given up. My dogs were still hunting. When they gave up, I would, too.
Rubin said, “Well, we’re not going to stay here all night.”
Looking back to the tree, I thought perhaps I had overlooked something. I told Rubin I was going to climb it again.
He laughed, “Go ahead. Won’t do any good. You climbed it once. Ain’t you satisfied?”
“No, I’m not satisfied,” I said. “I just don’t believe in ghost coons.”
Rubin said, “I don’t
believe in ghosts either, but facts are facts. To tell you the truth, I’ve climbed that tree a dozen times and there just ain’t no place in it for a coon to hide.”
Rainie spoke up. “Our old blue hound has treed the ghost coon in this tree more times than one. Maybe you two don’t believe in ghosts, but I do. Why don’t you pay off so we can get away from here?”
“I’ll climb it one more time,” I said. “If I can’t find him, I’ll pay off.”
Climbing up again, I searched and searched. When I got through, I knew the ghost coon wasn’t in that tree. When I came down, I saw my dogs had given up. That took the last resistance out of me. I knew if they couldn’t find the ghost coon, I couldn’t.
Digging the two one-dollar bills out of my pocket, I walked over to Rubin. Little Ann was by my side. I handed my money over, saying, “Well, you won it fair and square.”
With a grin on his face, Rubin took my money. He said, “I bet this will break your old grandpa’s heart.”
I didn’t reply.
Reaching down, I caught Little Ann’s head in my hands. Looking into her warm friendly eyes, I said, “It’s all right, little girl, we haven’t given up yet. We’ll come back. We may never catch the ghost coon, but we’ll run him until he leaves the country.
She licked my hands and whined.
A small breeze began to stir. Glancing up into the tree, I saw some leaves shaking. I said to Rubin, “Looks like the wind is coming up. It may blow up a storm. We’d better be heading for home.”
Just as I turned, I saw Little Ann throw up her head and whine. Her body grew stiff and taut. I watched her. She was testing the wind. I knew she had scented something in the breeze. Stiff-legged, head high in the air, she started walking toward the tree. Almost there, she turned back and stopped. I knew she had caught the scent but could only catch it when a breeze came.
Looking at Rubin, I said, “I haven’t lost that two dollars yet.”
Another breeze drifted out of the river bottoms. Little Ann caught the scent again. Slowly she walked straight to the large gatepost, reared up on it with her front feet, and bawled the most beautiful tree bark I ever heard in my life.
Old Dan, not understanding why Little Ann was bawling, stood and looked. He walked over to the post, reared up on it, and sniffed. Then, raising his head, he shook the dead leaves in the bur oak tree with his deep voice.
I looked at Rainie. Laughing, I said, “There’s your ghost coon. Now what do you think of my dogs?”
For once he made no reply.
Going over to the post, I saw it was a large black locust put there many years ago to hang the gate. Looking up at the tree, I saw how the ghost coon had pulled his trick. One large long limb ran out and hung directly over the gate. It was a drop of a good twelve feet from the branch to the top of the gatepost, but I knew we weren’t after an ordinary coon. This was the ghost coon.
I said to Rubin, “Boost me up and I’ll see if the post is hollow.”
After breaking off a long Jimson weed to use as a prod, I got up on Rubin’s shoulder, and he raised me up. The post was hollow. Not knowing how far down the hole went, I started the switch down. About halfway, I felt something soft. I gave it a hard jab.
I heard him coming. He boiled out right in my face. I let go of everything. Hitting the ground, I rolled over on my back and looked up.
For a split second, the ghost coon stayed on top of the post, and then he jumped. My dogs were on him the instant he hit the ground. The fight was on.
I knew the coon didn’t have a chance as he wasn’t in the waters of the river. He didn’t give up easily even though he was on dry land. He was fighting for his life and a good account he gave. He fought his way to freedom, and made it back to the bur oak tree. He was a good six feet up the side when Old Dan, leaping high in the air, caught him and pulled him back down.
At the foot of the tree, the fight went on. Again the ghost coon fought his way free. This time he made it and disappeared in the dark shadows of the tree. Old Dan was furious. Never before had I seen a coon get away from him.
I told Rubin I would climb up and run him out. As I started climbing, I saw Little Ann go to one side and Old Dan to the other. My dogs would never stay together when they had treed a coon, so that any way he left a tree, he was met by one of them.
About halfway up, far out on a limb, I found the ghost coon. As I started toward him, my dogs stopped bawling. I heard something I had heard many times. The sound was like the cry of a small baby. It was the cry of a ringtail coon when he knows it is the end of the trail. I never liked to hear this cry, but it was all in the game, the hunter and the hunted.
As I sat there on the limb, looking at the old fellow, he cried again. Something came over me. I didn’t want to kill him.
I hollered down and told Rubin I didn’t want to kill the ghost coon.
He hollered back, “Are you crazy?”
I told him I wasn’t crazy. I just didn’t want to kill him.
I climbed down.
Rubin was mad. He said, “What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing,” I told him. “I just don’t have the heart to kill the coon.”
I told him there were plenty more; why kill him? He had lived here a long time, and more than one hunter had listened to the voices of his hounds bawling on his trail.
Rainie said, “He’s chicken-livered, that’s what it is.”
I didn’t like that but, not wanting to argue, I didn’t say anything.
Rubin said, “I’ll go up and run him out.”
“I won’t let my dogs kill him,” I said.
Rubin glared at me. “I’m going up and run that coon out,” he said. “If you stop your dogs, I’m going to beat you half to death.”
“Do it anyway, Rubin,” Rainie said.
“I’ve a good mind to,” said Rubin.
Just as Rubin started to climb the tree, Old Dan growled. He was staring into the darkness. Something was coming.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Rubin said. “Don’t sound like anything I ever heard.”
“It’s ghosts,” Rainie said. “Let’s get away from here.”
An animal was coming out of the darkness. It was walking slowly in an odd way, as if it were walking sideways. The hair on the back of my neck stood straight out.
As the animal came closer, Rainie said, “Why, it’s Old Blue. How did he get loose?”
It was a big blue tick hound. Around his neck was a piece of rope about three feet long. One could see that the rope had been gnawed in two. The frayed end had become entangled in a fair-sized dead limb. Dragging the limb was what made the dog look so odd. I felt much better when I found out what it was.
The blue tick hound was like the Pritchards, mean and ugly. He was a big dog, tall and heavy. His chest was thick and solid. He came up growling. The hair on his back was standing straight up. He walked stiff-legged around Old Dan, showing his teeth.
I told Rainie he had better get hold of his dog, or there was sure to be a fight.
“You better get hold of your dog,” he said. “I’m not worried about Old Blue. He can take care of himself.”
I said no more.
“Don’t make no difference now whether you kill the ghost coon or not,” Rubin said. “Old Blue will take care of him.”
I knew the killing of the coon was out of my control, but I didn’t want to see him die. I said to Rubin, “Just give back my two dollars and I’ll go home. I can’t keep you from killing him, but I don’t have to stay and see it.”
“Rubin, don’t give him the money,” Rainie said. “He ain’t killed the ghost coon.”
“That’s right,” Rubin said. “You ain’t, and I wouldn’t let you now, even if you wanted to.”
I told them my dogs had treed the ghost coon and that was the bet, to tree the ghost coon.
“No, it wasn’t,” Rubin said. “You said you would kill him.”
“It was no such thi
ng,” I said. “I’ve done all I said I would.”
Rubin walked up in front of me. He said, “I ain’t going to give you the money. You didn’t win it fair. Now what are you going to do about it?”
I looked into his mean eyes. I started to make some reply, but decided against it.
He saw my hesitation, and said, “You better get your dogs and get out of here before you get whipped.”
In a loud voice, Rainie said, “Bloody his nose, Rubin.”
I was scared. I couldn’t whip Rubin. He was too big for me. I started to turn and leave when I thought of what my grandfather had told them.
“You had better remember what my grandpa said,” I reminded them. “He’ll do just what he said he would.”
Rubin didn’t hit me. He just grabbed me and with his brute strength threw me down on the ground. He had me on my back with my arms outspread. He had a knee on each arm. I made no effort to fight back. I was scared.
“If you say one word to your grandpa about this,” Rubin said, “I’ll catch you hunting some night and take my knife to you.”
Looking up into his ugly face, I knew he would do just what he said. I told him to let me up and I would go and not say anything to anyone.
“Don’t let him up, Rubin,” Rainie said. “Beat the hell out of him, or hold him and let me do it.”
Just then I heard growling, and a commotion off to one side. The blue hound had finally gotten a fight out of Old Dan. Turning my head sideways, I could see them standing on their hind legs, tearing and slashing at each other. The weight of the big hound pushed Old Dan over.
I told Rubin to let me up so we could stop the fight.
He laughed, “While my dog is whipping yours, I think I’ll just work you over a little.” So saying, he jerked my cap off, and started whipping me in the face with it.
I heard Rainie yell, “Rubin, they’re killing Old Blue.”
Rubin jumped up off me.
I clambered up and looked over to the fight. What I saw thrilled me. Faithful Little Ann, bitch though she was, had gone to the assistance of Old Dan.
I knew my dogs were very close to each other. Everything they did was done as a combination, but I never expected this. It is a very rare occasion for a bitch dog to fight another dog, but fight she did.