by Wilson Rawls
I nodded my head, thinking if people would just stop questioning me about Rubin’s death, maybe I could forget.
Grandpa said, “Well, the accident wasn’t the only thing I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve got something else—something I think will help us both forget a lot of things.”
The twinkle in Grandpa’s eyes reminded me of what my father had said: “Seems like that old man can cook up more deals than anyone in the country.”
I didn’t care how many deals Grandpa cooked up. He was still the best grandpa in the whole wide world.
“What have you got?” I asked.
“Come over to the store,” he said, “and I’ll show you.”
On our way over, I heard him mutter, “I hope this doesn’t turn out like the ghost-coon hunt.”
On entering the store, Grandpa walked to the post office department, and came back with a newspaper in his hand. He spread it out on the counter.
Pointing with his finger, he said in a loud voice, “Look, there!”
I looked. The large black letters read: CHAMPIONSHIP COON HUNT TO BE HELD. My eyes popped open. Again I read the words.
Grandpa was chuckling.
I said, “Boy, if that isn’t something. A championship coon hunt.” Wide-eyed, I asked, “Where are they having this hunt, and what does it have to do with us?”
Grandpa was getting excited. Off came his glasses and out came the old red handkerchief. He blew his breath on the lens and polished them. He snorted a time or two, reared back, and almost shouted, “Do with us? Why it has everything to do with us. All my life I’ve wanted to go to one of these big coon hunts. Why I’ve even dreamed about it. And now the opportunity has come. Yes, sir, now I can go.” He paused. “That is, if it’s all right with you.”
I was dumbfounded. I said, “All right with me? Why, Grandpa, you know it’s all right with me, but what have I got to do with it?”
Grandpa was so excited I thought he was going to burst a blood vessel.
Talking excitedly, he said, “I’ve got it all fixed, Billy. We can enter Old Dan and Little Ann in this championship hunt.”
I was so surprised at what Grandpa had said I couldn’t utter a word. At first I was scared and then a wonderful feeling came over me. I felt the excitement of the big hunt as it burned its way into my body. I started breathing like I had been running for a hundred miles. After several attempts, I croaked, “Can just any dog be in this hunt?”
Grandpa almost jumped as he answered, “No, sir, not just any hound can be entered. They have to be the best, and they have to be registered, too.”
He started talking with his hands. Pointing to a chair, he said, “Sit down and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Grandpa calmed down a little and started talking in a serious voice. “Billy,” he said, “it takes some doing to have a set of dogs entered in this hunt. I’ve been working on this for months. I’ve written letters on top of letters. I’ve even had several good friends in town helping me. You see, I’ve kept a record of all the coons your dogs have caught, and believe me, their catch is up there with the best of them. Now, I have already paid the entry fee and everything is fixed. All we have to do is go.”
“Entry fee? How much did it cost?” I asked.
“You let me worry about that,” he said. “Now what do you say? Want to give it a whirl? I understand the winner receives a gold cup, and you never can tell, we might come home with it. We have as good a chance as anyone else.”
Grandpa had me so worked up by this time, I didn’t think anyone else had any good hounds but me.
I reared back and blurted, “It’s all right with me, Grandpa. Just tell me what to do.”
Grandpa flew out of gear like a Model-T Ford. He slapped the counter with his hand. In a pent-up voice, he said, “That’s the boy! That’s the way I like to hear a coon hunter talk.”
With a questioning look on his face, he asked, “Didn’t I see your dogs with you when you came up?”
“Yes, they followed me,” I said. “They’re outside.”
“Well, call them in,” he said. “I’ve got something for them.”
I called to them. Little Ann came in the store, walking like she was scared. Old Dan came to the door and stopped. I tried to coax him in. It was no use. My dogs, never being allowed in the house, were scared to come in.
Grandpa walked over to a hoop of cheese and cut off two chunks about the size of my fist. He walked to the door, talking to Old Dan. “What’s the matter, boy?” he said. “You scared to come in? Well, that shows you’re a good dog.”
He handed him a piece of the cheese. I heard it rattle in his throat as he gulped it down.
Grandpa came back and set Little Ann up on the counter. He chuckled as he broke the cheese up in small pieces and fed her.
“Yes, sir,” he said, “I think we have the best darn coon hounds in these Ozark Mountains, and just as sure as shootin’, we’re going to win that gold cup.”
Grandpa didn’t have to say that. The way I was feeling, I already had the cup. All I had to do was go and get it.
Finished with his feeding of Little Ann, Grandpa said, “Now, let’s see. The hunt starts on the twenty-third. That’s about—well, let’s see—this is the seventeenth.” Counting on his fingers he finally figured it out. “That’s six days from now,” he said in a jubilant voice.
I nodded my head.
“We can leave here early on the morning of the twenty-second,” he said, “and barring accidents, we should make the campground in plenty of time for the grand opening.”
I asked how we were going.
“We’ll go in my buggy,” he said. “I’ll load the tent and everything the night before.”
I asked him what he wanted me to bring.
“Nothing,” he said, “but these two little hounds, and you be here early; and I believe I’d let these dogs rest, ‘cause we want them in tiptop shape when we get there.”
I saw the thinking wrinkles bunch up on Grandpa’s forehead.
“You reckon your daddy would like to go?” he asked. “As late in the fall as it is, I don’t think he’s too busy, is he?”
“No, our crops are all gathered,” I said. “We’ve been clearing some of the bottom land, but that’s almost done now.”
“Well, ask him,” he said. “Tell him I’d like to have him go.”
“I’ll ask him,” I said, “but you know how Papa is. The farm comes first with him.”
“I know,” Grandpa said, “but you ask him anyway, and tell him what I said. Now it’s getting late and you had better be heading for home.”
I was almost to the door when Grandpa said, “Wait a minute.”
He walked over behind the candy counter and shook out one of the quarter sacks. He filled it up to the brim, bounced it on the counter a few times, and dropped in a few more gumdrops.
With a twinkle in his eye, and a smile on his face, he handed it to me saying, “Save some for your sisters.”
I was so choked up I couldn’t say anything. I took it and flew out the door, calling to my dogs.
On my way home I didn’t walk on the ground. I was way up in the clouds just skipping along. With a song, I told the sycamore trees and the popeyed gray squirrels how happy I was.
Little Ann sensed my happiness. She pranced along on the trail. With a doggish grin on her face, she begged for a piece of candy, which I so gladly gave.
Even Old Dan felt the pleasant atmosphere. His long red tail fanned the air. Once he raised his head and bawled. I stood still and listened to the droning tones of his deep voice. The sound seemed to be trapped for an instant in the thick timber. It rolled around under the tall white sycamores, beat its way through the wild cane, and found freedom out over the clear blue waters of the river. The sound, following the river’s course, rolled like the beat of a jungle drum.
As the echo died away in the distance, silence settled over the bottoms. The gray squirrels stopped their chattering. The wild birds qu
it their singing. I stood still. No sound could be heard. It seemed that all the creatures of the wild were holding their breath. I gazed up to the towering heights of the tall trees. No leaf was stirring. The silence seemed strained and expectant, like a young boy waiting for a firecracker to explode.
I looked at Old Dan. He was standing perfectly still, with his right front foot raised and his long ears fanned open. He seemed to be listening, and challenging any living creature to make a noise.
The silence was broken by the “Whee-e-e-e” of a red-tailed hawk. This seemed to be a signal. All around me the happy atmosphere resumed its natural state.
I heard the “Bam, bam, bam” of a woodpecker high in the top of a box elder snag. The cry of a kingfisher and the scream of a bluejay blended perfectly with the drumlike beat. A barking red squirrel, glued to the side of a hackberry tree, kept time to the music with the beat of his tail.
Each noise I heard and each sight I saw was very familiar to me but I never grew tired of listening and watching. They were a God-sent gift and I enjoyed them all.
As I skipped along, it was hard for me to realize all the wonderful things that had happened to me in such a few short years. I had two of the finest little hounds that ever bawled on the trail of a ringtail coon. I had a wonderful mother and father and three little sisters. I had the best grandpa a boy ever had, and to top it all, I was going on a championship coon hunt. It was no wonder that my heart was bursting with happiness. Wasn’t I the luckiest boy in the world?
Everyone was just sitting down to supper when I got home. My sisters quit the table for the candy. I told them to divide it equally. The oldest one asked if I wanted any of it.
“No,” I said. “I brought it all for you.” Of course, I didn’t tell them about the four pieces I had in my pocket.
They thanked me with their clear blue eyes.
I guess it’s pretty hard for a young boy to fool his mama. She took one look at me and called me over. She ruffled up my hair, kissed me, and said, “If my little boy’s eyes get any bigger they’re going to pop right out of his head. Now tell me, what are you so happy about?”
Before I could say anything, Papa chuckled and asked, “What’s going on between you and your grandpa? What are you and that old man cooking up now?”
As fast as I could talk I started telling about the big coon hunt. I told how hard Grandpa had been working to have my dogs entered, and how he had already paid my entry fee.
Catching my breath and looking at Papa, I said, “We’re going in his buggy and he wants you to go.”
I waited in silence for his reply. Papa sat there staring off into space, sipping his coffee and saying nothing. I knew he was thinking.
In the silence I was sure I could hear my heart thumping.
I said, “Papa, please go. We’ll have a lot of fun and besides the winner receives a big golden cup.”
He scratched his head and said, “Billy, I’d sure like to go, but I don’t see how I can with all this work around here.”
I was beginning to think that Papa wasn’t going to go. Then Mama started talking.
“Work?” she said. “Why, all the work is practically done. I don’t know of one thing you couldn’t put off for a few days. Why don’t you go? You haven’t been anywhere since I don’t know when.”
“It’s not only the work I’m thinking of,” Papa said. “It’s you and the girls.”
“Why, don’t worry about the girls and me,” Mama said. “We’ll be all right. Besides, it’ll be several months yet before I need any help.”
When Mama said this, it dawned on me. I had been so busy with my coon hunting I hadn’t noticed anything unusual. Mama’s tummy was all swelled up. She was going to have a baby. I felt guilty for not having noticed. I went over and put my arms around her and kissed her.
Papa spoke up. “It’s sure going to be a big hunt,” he said. “I heard something about it up at the store one day.”
“Grandpa said there would be hunters there from everywhere,” I said, “and some of the best coon hounds in the country.”
“Do you think you have a chance to win the cup?” Papa asked.
I started to answer him when the little one piped up. “They can’t beat Old Dan and Little Ann,” she said. “I just bet they can’t.”
Everyone laughed at her serious remark. I would have kissed her but she had candy, corn bread, and molasses all over her face.
I told Papa I didn’t know how good those dogs were, but there was one thing I did know. If they beat mine, they would have to hunt harder than they ever had before.
After I had had my say about the dogs, a silence settled over the dining room. Everyone was looking at Papa and waiting for his answer.
I saw a pleased smile spread over his face. He stood up. “All right, I’ll go,” he said, “and, by golly, we’ll bring that gold cup back, too.”
My sisters started clapping their hands and squealing with delight. A satisfied smile spread over my mother’s face.
At that moment I’m sure no boy in the world could have been happier than I. Tears of happiness rolled down my cheeks. Mama wiped them away with her apron.
In the midst of all the excitement, my little sister, saying not a word, climbed down from her chair. No one said anything. We just watched her.
Still clutching a spoon in her small hand, she came around the table and walked up to me. Looking down at the floor, in a bashful voice, she asked, “Can I have the gold cup?”
Putting my finger under her sticky little chin, I tilted her head up. I smiled as I looked into her clear blue eyes. I said, “Honey, if I win it, I’ll give it to no one but you.”
I had to cross my heart and hope to die several times before she was satisfied.
Back in her chair she gloated over the others. “You just wait and see,” she said. “It’ll be all mine, nobody’s but mine, and I’ll put my banty eggs in it.”
“Silly, you don’t put banty eggs in a gold cup,” the oldest one said. “They’re just made to look at.”
That night I dreamed about gold cups, little red hounds, and coons as big as rain barrels. Once I woke myself up whooping to my dogs.
The next few days were busy ones for me. Knowing that Papa and I would be gone for several days, I did everything I could to make things convenient for Mama. I chopped a large pile of wood and stacked it close to the kitchen door. To make it easy for her to feed our stock, I cut some poles from the hillside and boxed up one of the stalls in the barn. I filled it full of hay so she wouldn’t have to climb the ladder to the loft.
Papa laid down the law to my sisters about being good and helping Mama while we were gone.
The day before we were to leave, I was as nervous as a June bug in a henhouse. The day seemed endless. A few of the miserable hours were spent talking to my dogs. I told them all about the big hunt and how important it was.
“Now if you don’t win the golden cup,” I said, “I won’t be mad because I know you will do your best.”
Old Dan wouldn’t even look at me, and paid no attention to what I said. He was sulking because I hadn’t been taking him hunting. When I talked to Little Ann, it was different. She listened and seemed to understand everything I said.
I dreaded to go to bed that night. I thought sleep would be impossible. I must have been more tired than I thought I was. I fell asleep almost immediately. Old Red, our rooster, woke me at daybreak, crowing his fool head off.
It was a beautiful morning, clear and frosty.
After a good breakfast, we kissed Mama goodbye and started for the store.
I’m sure there were a lot of coon hunters in the Ozarks, but on that morning none could have felt as big and important as I. Walking along by the side of my father, I threw out my chest and tried hard to keep pace with his long strides. He noticed and laughed.
“You’ll have to grow a little bit,” he said, “before you can take steps that long.”
I didn’t say anything. I just smiled.
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Hearing a noise overhead, I looked up. The gray ones were winging their way southward. I listened to their talking and wondered what they were saying.
Looking to the mountains around us, I saw that the mysterious artist who comes at night had paid us a visit. I wondered how he could paint so many different colors in one night; red, wine, yellow, and rust.
My dogs were trotting along in front of us. I smiled at the way their hind quarters shifted to the right. Little Ann would jump and bounce and try to get Old Dan to play, but the solemn old boy just jogged along, heedless of everything.
“You know,” Papa said, “she doesn’t even act like a hound. She is bouncing and playing all the time. Why, she acts more like a little pup than a hound.”
“Yes, I know,” I said. “I’ve noticed that myself, but you know one thing, Papa, she’s the smartest dog I’ve ever seen. Why, some of the things she does are almost unbelievable.”
“Yes, I know,” said Papa, “but still it’s strange, very strange.”
“There’s only one thing wrong with her, Papa,” I said.
“Yea, what’s that?” he asked.
“You won’t believe it,” I said, “but she’s gun-shy.”
“Gun-shy? How do you know she’s gun-shy?” Papa asked.
“I didn’t know for a long time,” I said, “until one day when I was hoeing corn down in the field by the old slough. She and Old Dan were digging in a bank after a ground hog. Across the river some fishermen started shooting a gun. It scared Little Ann, and she came running to me, shaking all over.”
“Aw,” Papa said, “maybe you just thought she was scared.”
“No, I didn’t, Papa,” I said. “It happened again up at the store one day. Grandpa shot a chicken hawk. When the gun went off, it scared her half to death. No, she’s gun-shy all right.”
“Aw, well,” Papa said, “that doesn’t mean anything. A lot of dogs are afraid of guns.”
“I know,” I said, “but you wouldn’t think she would be that way. I believe if I had a gun of my own I could break her of being gun-shy.”
Papa looked at me. He said, “From what your mother says, you won’t be getting a gun for some time yet.”