Summer of the Monkeys (33 page)

All the way to town Papa kept our old mules a-stepping.

When we got to the depot, Papa drove around behind it and tied the team to a hitching rail. While he was taking care of the team, I took the rope and tied it to Rowdy’s collar.

A lot of people were milling around the depot. They didn’t pay much attention to Rowdy and me. Oh, some of them looked at us and nodded their heads. A few spoke, but that was all.

Papa walked over to where a group of men were talking, and joined in on their conversation.

While Papa and the men were talking, Rowdy and I took a walk along the track. That was the first time I had walked a steel rail of a railroad track. It was fun.

Not to be outdone, Rowdy got up on the rail and walked it, too.

Rowdy did all right with his rail-walking but I didn’t do too well. It’s not easy to walk a rail if you’re holding onto a rope with a hound dog tied on the end of it. Believe me, it’s pretty hard to do.

Rowdy and I were a good way down the track when I heard the train whistle in the distance. It was coming from the other direction. We hurried back to the depot.

I had never seen a train before and I was all excited about seeing my first one.

The track made a bend about five hundred yards from the depot. I glued my eyes to the bend and held my breath. I waited and watched. The rails started clicking and the ground started trembling. With its bell ringing and black smoke rolling, the engine came around the bend.

When Rowdy saw the big, black, noisy engine coming toward him, he got scared. He tried to get between my legs, but I wouldn’t let him.

I was scared, too, and I didn’t want a hound dog and a rope wound around my legs if I decided to have a runaway.

Rowdy must have gotten so scared he didn’t know what he was doing. With every hair on his back standing straight up, he growled and showed his teeth. He ran out to the end of the rope and started to bawl at the train.

Behind me, I heard someone say, “If that boy would turn that old hound loose, I think he’d tie into that train.”

All around me people started to laugh.

Just before the train got to the depot, it whistled. I all but jumped out of my britches. I had never heard anything like it in my life.

That whistle was too much for Rowdy. With his tail between his legs, he came scooting back to me and tried to get between my legs again.

“Rowdy,” I said in a quavering voice, “if you don’t sit down and behave yourself, I’m going to whip you.”

I didn’t mean what I said, but I was so scared I had to say something.

Jarring the ground with its big pounding wheels, the engine chugged by us. It pulled past the depot a little way and, with steam hissing and brakes squeaking, it stopped. A passenger coach was right in front of us.

For several seconds, a silence settled over the people waiting on the depot platform. All I could hear was the hissing breath of the engine.

The door of the coach opened and a black man with a small stool in his hand stepped out. He was wearing a dark green uniform and a round hard-top cap with a long bill.

That was the first black man I had ever seen and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He must have noticed me staring at him. As he set the stool down on the platform, he looked at me and then at Rowdy.

With a friendly smile on his face, he said, “Will that hound tree anything?”

I swallowed and said, “Yes, sir, he’ll tree anything.”

The smile spread all over the black man’s face. His white teeth flashed. He said, “That’s the kind of dog to have. When I was a boy, I had an old hound just about like him. I still remember that old dog. We had a lot of fun together.”

I liked the black man. He was so friendly and I could tell that he liked boys and dogs.

Two cowboys were the first ones off the train. They were carrying their saddles over their shoulders.

In a loud voice, someone in the crowd said, “Hey, Larry! How did the rodeo go?”

Larry laughed and said, “It went all right for me, but Old Henry here, he didn’t do so good. He got bucked off everything he got on.”

Henry said, “If you had drawn the buckers I drew, you would have been in the air so much you would have sprouted wings.”

Everyone around roared with laughter.

Then two drummers got off. Each one was carrying two suitcases. No one said a word to them.

The next person to get off was a big, stout woman. She had about a dozen kids bunched up behind her. It sounded like every one of them was bawling. The woman was jerking and shoving kids and giving orders.

Then I saw Mama and Daisy at the door of the coach.

Mama was carrying her suitcase in one hand and Daisy’s old crutch in the other. She saw me and smiled. Tears flooded her eyes.

Mama didn’t waste any time getting off the coach and coming to me. She dropped the suitcase and the crutch, threw her arms around me, and kissed me. She squeezed me so tight I could hardly get my breath. Then Mama turned me loose and, with a low choking sob, she went right into Papa’s arms. I never saw so much hugging and kissing between Mama and Papa.

Daisy was the last one to get off the train. She was still standing in the door of the coach and was looking at me. She had her suitcase with her and some bundles. I had never seen such a warm, tender smile on her face. Her blue eyes were as bright as a bluebird flying into the sun. Two big tears were sliding slowly down her cheeks. The tears stopped about halfway down and held there as if by some invisible force.

I let my eyes travel from Daisy’s face down to that old crippled leg. I sucked in a mouthful of air and stared. I just couldn’t believe it. Daisy wasn’t crippled any more. I kept staring from one leg to the other. If I hadn’t known which one had been crippled, I never would have been able to guess. There was no difference in either leg.

As I stood there, looking at Daisy, I knew that I would never regret giving up my pony. It was all worth it. My little sister wasn’t a cripple any more.

Daisy must have seen that I was staring at her leg. Very slowly she raised her foot and wiggled it. Never before had my little sister been able to move her foot like that.

To let her know that I understood, and was happy for her, I smiled and nodded my head.

With no limp at all, Daisy came down the steps and over to me. She stopped about three feet from me, set her suitcase down, and piled the bundles on top of it. For a second, she just stood there, looking at me. I could see the tears glistening in her eyes. Then she just kind of jumped, and wrapped her arms around me.

I didn’t know my little sister was so strong. She was hugging me so tight her small arms felt like steel bands around my neck.

“Jay Berry,” she whispered, “I love you so very much. I won’t ever forget what you did for me.”

Then she kissed me right on the mouth.

I felt the blushing heat as it crawled up my neck and spread all over my face. “I love you, too,” I said in a low voice, “but you didn’t have to kiss me like that—not right here in front of all these people.”

Daisy smiled and said, “I don’t care what anyone thinks. You’re my brother and I’ll kiss you any time I want to.”

I wanted to argue with Daisy about that but I didn’t think it was a good time to start an argument.

Papa came over and hugged and kissed Daisy. It was the first time in my life I saw tears in his eyes.

Just then the deep voice of a hound dog rang out over the depot platform. In his own way, Rowdy was telling the whole wide world that he was a happy hound. The family was together again.

All around us people started laughing. I was feeling so good that I laughed a little, too.

We were putting the suitcases and bundles in our wagon when
Papa looked at Mama and said, “Why did you bring Daisy’s old crutch home? She doesn’t need it now.”

“I know,” Mama said as she climbed to the wagon seat, “but I don’t care. I brought it home anyway. I want it hung on the wall in our home where I can see it every day—and be thankful.”

Papa never said a word as he laid Daisy’s crutch in the wagon, but I could tell by the look on his face that he was thankful, too.

A
s we rode along in our bouncy old wagon, Daisy talked up a storm. She had so many things to tell me. She told me all about her operation and her stay in the hospital. She said that the first day she walked without her crutch was the happiest day of her life.

Rowdy would ride in the wagon for a while. Then he’d jump out and go sniffing along the road. He had so much hunting blood in him, he couldn’t stay in the wagon for very long.

When we came in sight of our home, Papa said, “It looks like we have company.”

“Why, that’s Grandpa’s buckboard,” Mama said. “Bless his old heart! He just couldn’t wait—he wants to see Daisy.”

Papa stretched up to see better. “What’s that I see in our barn lot?” he said. “I’m sure it wasn’t there when we left this morning.”

I stood up in the wagon so I could see over the rail fence around our barn lot. My mouth flew open and my eyes all but popped out of my head. I got warm all over and my old heart started pounding like a sawmill.

Standing in the center of the lot, with her head up and looking in our direction, was the little mare.

Daisy grabbed the back of the spring seat to steady herself and stood up in the wagon, too. “What is it, Jay Berry?” she asked.

I wanted to answer Daisy but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but stare at that beautiful paint pony.

Just then the little mare shook her head and snorted. She trotted over to the rail fence. With her small ears pointing straight up, she looked at me and nickered.

The nicker jarred me out of the trance I was in. “It’s the little mare!” I shouted. “It’s the little mare!”

“Oh, it’s a paint!” Daisy said. “Isn’t she beautiful!”

The little mare was all excited. With her mane and tail flying, she galloped around the lot. Now and then, she would stop, toss her head, and nicker.

I could see that she wasn’t limping at all.

Daisy said, “Jay Berry, that pony acts like she knows you. Have you ever seen her before?”

“She does know me,” I said. “I saw her at Grandpa’s store.”

I was still looking at the little mare when Papa drove up in front of our house and stopped the wagon.

Grandpa was sitting on the porch in Papa’s rocker. He was just sitting there with a grin on his whiskery old face; rocking away and looking at us.

I jumped down from the wagon and ran to him. “Grandpa,” I said in a loud voice, “the little mare—did you bring her?”

“I sure did,” Grandpa said. “She’s all yours—she’s your pony.”

I was so stunned I couldn’t even thank Grandpa. I just stood there with my mouth open, looking at him and not even seeing him.

From behind me I heard Daisy squeal with excitement. “Oh, Mama,” she said, “it came true! It really did! The wish I made in the fairy ring has come true. I wished that Jay Berry could get his pony and .22.”

On hearing the rustling of paper, I turned around just as Daisy walked up to me. She had one of the packages in her hands and was hugging it to her.

With a serious look on her face, she said, “Jay Berry, this is your
gun. But before I give it to you, I want you to promise me something. I want you to promise me that you won’t ever shoot any of the little things that live in these hills. I mean little birds, squirrels, chipmunks, and bunnies. They don’t hurt anything. If you just have to shoot something, there are plenty of old rattlesnakes, chicken hawks, wolves, and wild cats around. You can shoot them—but not the little things. Will you promise me that?”

Things were happening so fast I couldn’t think straight. My mind went completely blank. I wanted to promise Daisy but I couldn’t talk. All I could do was nod my head.

Daisy said, “Don’t just nod your head, Jay Berry. I want to hear you say it out loud.”

I took a deep breath and said, “All right, Daisy, I promise that I won’t hurt any of the little things—not ever again.”

As Daisy held the package out to me, she smiled and said, “Mama and I walked all over Oklahoma City looking for this .22. I think it’s just like the one I saw you looking at in our catalogue.”

With trembling hands, I tore the paper from the package. There it was—my own .22. It was a single-shot Hamilton—the very gun I had always wanted.

I turned the gun over and over, and ran my hand along the dark walnut stock and the slick metal barrel. I put the stock to my shoulder and drew a bead on a fence post.

As I stood there with the .22 in my hands—one of the most precious treasures a country boy can own—I looked over to the pony in our barn lot. The little mare was standing with her head over the rail fence, looking at me. She nickered, tossed her head, and started pawing the ground.

It was so still on the porch of our home, you could have heard a worm breathing. Visions started flashing through my mind. I saw Daisy’s playhouse and all her treasures—the cross she had made from grapevines wrapped in tinfoil, and the face of Christ she had molded from the dark red clay of the Ozark hills. I could see the wild mountain flowers peeking from the tin cans—rooster heads,
violets, and daisies. I saw the fairy ring and remembered the wish I had made when I knelt in the center of that snow-white circle.

I felt the hot tears in my eyes. I tried not to bawl, but I just couldn’t help it. I bawled anyway.

I wiped the tears from my face with the sleeve of my shirt. “Daisy,” I said, “there’s something that I want to tell you. The wish I made in the fairy ring has come true, too. I wished that you could get your crippled leg fixed up.”

Whimpering like a pup under a tub, Mama buried her face in Papa’s chest.

Papa put his arms around Mama. Looking at me, he said, “Son, when your mother and I made our wishes, we wished for the same thing you did. We wished that Daisy could get her crippled leg taken care of. Our wishes came true.”

In a choking voice, Mama said, “It’s a miracle! All four of our wishes have come true. It was the work of the Lord. It couldn’t have been anything else.”

With a low cough, Grandpa cleared his throat. He got up from his chair and said, “You know, when your grandma and I first came to this country, I did a lot of walking. I don’t do much walking any more—not since I opened the store. But from this day, I’m going to walk all over these hills and river bottoms, and I don’t care where I walk I’m going to look for a fairy ring. I’d sure like to find one. There are a lot of things I’d like to wish for—a lot of things.”