Summer of the Monkeys

by Wilson Rawls

  Rowdy knew that practically every time Grandpa gave me some candy, he was supposed to get something to eat, too. He turned, walked over to Grandpa, and sat down right in front of him. With begging eyes, he looked him straight in the face.

  Grandpa didn’t say a word. He shoved his hands down in his pockets. With a grin on his whiskery old face, he just stood there staring back at Rowdy.

  Rowdy couldn’t stand to have anyone stare at him and not say anything. His tail started beating the floor and he whimpered a few times. Then he raised his old head straight up and bawled. Never before had I heard such a bawl come out of my old hound.

  Grandpa started laughing. He reached down, patted Rowdy on the head, and said, “All right, old fellow, I understand. I’ve been saving something for you. We had company yesterday and the women cooked a big ham. I saved the bone for you, but you’ll have to take it outside to eat it.”

  That was the biggest bone I had ever seen Grandpa give to Rowdy. It had meat all over it.

  When I saw Grandpa give that ham bone to Rowdy, I thought of the fairy ring and the wishes.

  “Grandpa, did you ever see a fairy ring?” I asked.

  Grandpa frowned, looked at me for a second before he said, “No, I’ve never seen a fairy ring. From what I understand, very few people have ever seen one. Why did you ask?”

  “I saw a fairy ring this morning,” I said.

  As if he couldn’t believe what he had heard, Grandpa said, in a rather loud voice, “You saw a fairy ring this morning?”

  “I sure did, Grandpa,” I said. “Daisy found it.”

  “Daisy found it!” Grandpa said. “Where did she find it?”

  “Up on the hillside,” I said. “Right in front of her playhouse.”

  Grandpa was flabbergasted.

  “Did you make a wish?” Grandpa asked.

  “All of us made a wish, Grandpa,” I said. “Even Old Rowdy sat down in the fairy ring and acted like he was making one. If he did, it’s a cinch he wished for a bone and it looks like his wish has just come true.”

  “What about your wish?” Grandpa said. “Hasn’t it come true?”

  “No, not yet,” I said, “but I sure hope it does.”

  Grandpa frowned and said, “I don’t understand. Didn’t you wish you’d catch those monkeys so you could get that pony and gun? I thought you wanted that more than anything.”

  “I do want a pony and gun, Grandpa,” I said, “but I didn’t wish for that. I started to, but I changed my mind.”

  “Changed your mind,” Grandpa said. “I thought catching those monkeys was all you could think about. It’s all I’ve been thinking about. What did you wish?”

  “Oh, Grandpa,” I said, “I can’t tell you what I wished. The legend says that if you tell anyone, the wish won’t come true, and I really want my wish to come true.”

  Grandpa fidgeted a little. “Things like this bother me,” he said. “I don’t like to be left hanging on a limb. Maybe if you whispered and told me what you wished, no one would hear and everything would be all right.”

  “Oh, no, Grandpa,” I said. “I don’t want to take the chance. I want my wish to come true.”

  Grandpa grinned and said, “I was just kidding you. I don’t want you to tell me what you wished. I just wanted to see if you were man enough to stick with it. I’m proud of you.”

  “Grandpa,” I said, “if my wish comes true, I won’t only tell you, I’ll tell the whole world.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that,” Grandpa said. “You can’t ever tell, maybe your wish will come true.”

  Grandpa looked at his watch and said, “I think you and Rowdy had better hightail it for home. I’m going to lock up the store and make a trip up the road.”

  “Where are you going, Grandpa?” I asked.

  “I’m going up to Indian Tom’s place,” he said.

  “Do you mean Indian Tom, the horse trader?” I asked.

  “That’s right,” Grandpa said, nodding his head.

  “What are you going there for, Grandpa?” I asked.

  “Indian Tom has been trying to get me to keep a couple of his horses here and sell them for him,” Grandpa said. “I think this is a good time to make a deal with him. I’ll tie them behind my buckboard and bring them home with me. When you come up tomorrow, you can pick the pony you want.”

  I was so surprised by what Grandpa had said, I dropped the sack of candy I was holding in my hand. My old heart gave one big thump and then it really took off. I wanted to say something but I couldn’t. I just stood there with my mouth open; looking at Grandpa and not even seeing him.

  Grandpa grinned and said, “Well, say something. Isn’t that what you’ve been wanting—a pony?”

  I swallowed a couple of times, nodded my head, and said, “Sure, Grandpa, I want a pony and a gun real bad, but I don’t have any money yet.”

  “You will have,” Grandpa said. “In a day or two, you’ll have plenty of money. You can buy that pony and gun and have money left over.”

  “Boy, Grandpa,” I said, “it’s hard to believe all of this is happening to me. It’s like a dream coming true.”

  “If a fellow didn’t dream and have hope,” he said, “life would sure be miserable.”

  “Grandpa,” I said, “why can’t I go with you to Indian Tom’s? I might learn something about buying horses.”

  Grandpa frowned and said, “I thought about that, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. When two old horse traders get together, you might hear some words I wouldn’t want you to hear; especially, if you’re doing business with Indian Tom. He’s the most bull-headed Cherokee I’ve ever run into. He’s smart, too. When it comes to trading or buying horses, he’s as smart as a two-headed fox.”

  “Aw, Grandpa,” I said, “I don’t think Indian Tom could ever get the best of you in a deal, could he?”

  “I’m not too sure about that,” Grandpa said. “I’ve been buying and trading with Indian Tom for a long time now and I always seem to come out on the short end. I can’t see how that Indian can be so smart. I don’t think he ever saw a schoolhouse.”

  “Grandpa,” I asked, “how much does a pony cost?”

  “I don’t know,” Grandpa said, “but if I know Indian Tom, it won’t be cheap. Horses and mules are really bringing a price. Everything else is dirt cheap, but not horses and mules. I’ll do the best I can.”

  “Grandpa,” I said, “tomorrow will really be a big day for me—the biggest day of my life.”

  Grandpa smiled and said, “When you get to be as old as I am, you’ll have a lot of memories. I can still remember my first pony. Someday when we have time, I’ll tell you about it.”

  I thanked Grandpa for all he had done for me and I was walking on a cloud as I started for home.

  When I reached home Daisy was sitting at the kitchen table where she was putting a new dress on a corn-shuck doll. With the sack of candy in my hand, I walked over and handed it to her. “Here, this is for you,” I said.

  “What is it?” Daisy asked as she opened the sack.

  “It’s candy,” I said. “Grandpa gave it to us.”

  Daisy looked down into the sack and her eyes lit up like a match in the dark. “Boy, howdy!” she exclaimed. “Grandpa must really be feeling good today. A whole sack full of candy!”

  “I think I’ll go have a look at the monkeys,” I said. “They may need something.”

  “I wouldn’t bother them, Jay Berry,” Daisy said. “They’re sleeping now. After they had eaten all they could hold, they crawled down in the straw and went to sleep.”

  Just then Papa came in from doing his chores, carrying a bucket of milk. As he set the bucket on the washstand, he chuckled. “Just before I left the barn, I peeked in the corn crib,” he said. “Those monkeys are all wadded up in that straw bed, sound asleep.”

  “I think we can forget about those monkeys for a while,” Mama said. “Right now we’re going to have some supper.”

  While we were eating,
I told them about my trip to the store.

  “Jay Berry,” Daisy said, “what kind of pony are you going to pick out? What color will it be?”

  “I don’t care what kind of pony it is,” I said, “or what color it is—just so it’s a pony.”

  Mama got up from the table and started stacking the supper dishes.

  Daisy said, “Mama, I’ll help you with the dishes.”

  Papa looked at me and said, “While they’re doing the dishes, let’s go check on the monkeys.”

  “Sure, Papa,” I said, “I’d like to see how they’re getting along.”

  “Don’t forget what night this is,” Mama said.

  “I haven’t forgotten, Mama,” Daisy said. “It’s Bible-reading night.”

  In our home, three nights a week we read the Bible. It made no difference if we had company, or if one of us was sick, Mama would still read from the Bible. After she had finished reading, she would hold a question and answer period with Daisy and me.

  Daisy was always full of questions.

  It was different with me. I couldn’t always keep my mind on what Mama was reading. Sometimes it would take me down to the river bottoms with Rowdy, chasing rabbits; or back in the hills messing around; or sitting on the river bank with a fishing pole and a can of worms. My mind had a mind of its own and all I could do was go along with it.

  It had gotten dark while we were eating. I got the lantern, lit it, and Papa and I walked out to the barn. Before we opened the corn-crib door, we stood still and listened. We couldn’t hear a thing—not even a mouse running around in the corn.

  In a whisper, Papa said, “Everything must be all right. I don’t hear a thing.”

  As quietly as I could, I opened the door, held the lantern up, and looked in. Jimbo raised his head out of the straw and looked at us for a second. Then he made a sleepy little noise and laid his head down again.

  Papa whispered, “They’re doing fine. Let’s not bother them.”

  With as little noise as possible, I closed the crib door, locked it, and we went back to the house.

  Mama and Daisy were in the front room when we got back. Daisy was sitting on the floor holding a small mirror in her hand and combing her hair.

  Mama was sitting in her rocking chair close to the lamp, turning the pages of our Bible. “Jay Berry,” she said, “it’s your turn to choose what you want me to read.”

  “Oh, boy, here we go again,” Daisy said. “It’ll be Daniel in the Lion’s den, or David and the Giant, or when Samson took that jackass bone and killed all those people. It’ll be one of those three. It always is.”

  It seemed that every Bible-reading night, Daisy and I got into an argument. I never did figure it was my fault.

  “Aw, Daisy,” I said, “I like those parts of the Bible. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with it, Jay Berry,” Daisy said, “but I’ve heard those parts so many times, I have them memorized. There are a lot of other good stories in the Bible. Why can’t you choose something else?”

  “All right, I will,” I said, looking at Mama. “Read that part where God opened up the river and all those people walked across and didn’t even get their feet wet.”

  Daisy said, “It wasn’t a river—it was the sea.”

  “What difference does it make?” I grumbled as I walked over and sat down by Daisy’s side. “It’s all water.”

  As she turned the pages, Mama said, “Let’s see—that will be in Exodus.”

  After Mama found the place in the Bible, she made herself comfortable in her chair and started reading. Mama was a good reader; especially, if she was reading from the Bible. For a good hour, we sat and listened to Mama read about how the Lord opened up the sea and let the good people walk over to the other side.

  I really liked that part of the Bible. I thought it was wonderful how the Lord had opened up the sea. Many times while Rowdy and I were prowling the river banks I would stop and, with my arms folded, I’d stare over the river and wonder how He did it. I never could understand it.

  After Mama had finished reading, and the question and answer period was over, Papa got up from his chair, stretched his arms, and yawned. “It’s bedtime,” he said. “I want to get a good night’s sleep. It should be dry enough to work in the fields tomorrow.”

  I was in my room, getting ready for bed, when Daisy poked her head in the door. “Jay Berry,” she said, “when you came back from the store, what was Rowdy carrying in his mouth?”

  “It was a bone,” I said. “Grandpa gave it to him.”

  Daisy smiled and said, “That’s what I thought it was.”

  I heard her humming a happy little tune as she went to her room.

  That was a miserable night for me. I must have had a dozen dreams—good ones and bad ones.

  I dreamed that the corn crib was on fire and the monkeys were screaming for help. Then I dreamed that Jimbo had opened the door and all the monkeys got out. I could see them with their tails in the air; running back to the river bottoms.

  I dreamed that I was riding a beautiful pony, up and down the country roads, and far back in the green rugged hills; even way up in the clouds—riding, riding, riding.

  Once I fell out of bed and it scared me half to death.

  Along in the wee hours of morning, I fell asleep. The next thing I knew I was awakened by Daisy, poking me with that old crutch of hers.

  “Jay Berry,” she said, “you’d better get up. Breakfast is almost ready, and things are liable to start happening around here today.”

  “All right,” I said, “you don’t have to poke a hole in me with that crutch. I’m getting up.”

  I heard Daisy giggle as she left my room.

  When I walked into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing the sleep from my eyes, Mama looked at me and said, “Jay Berry, you look terrible. Your eyes are red and you look a little pale. Are you sick?”

  “No, Mama,” I said, “I’m not sick. I dreamed all night and I didn’t sleep very good.”

  Papa and Daisy were already sitting at the table.

  Daisy said, “Mama, maybe you should make him stay in bed for four or five days and let me doctor him.”

  “Oh, no, you won’t,” I said. “I’m not staying in bed and I don’t need any doctoring. I’ve waited a long time for this day. I’m going after my pony and I don’t want anything to mess that up.”

  Papa said, “Wash your face in some cold water. That always helps. At least, it’ll wake you up.”

  Our well water was as cold as a plow point in January. I poured some of it into the wash pan and washed my face. It almost took my breath away but I did feel better.

  While I was drying my face, I saw that Mama was dishing up some oatmeal for me. “Mama,” I said, “I think I’ll go check on the monkeys before I eat breakfast.”

  “You won’t have to do that,” Papa said. “I took care of them while I was doing chores. I gave them a fresh pan of water and some more vegetables. They’re doing fine.”

  I thanked Papa and sat down at the table.

  I was so nervous and excited about getting my pony, my oatmeal didn’t even taste the same that morning.

  We had just about finished eating when all at once Rowdy came tearing out from under the porch, bawling his head off.

  Papa looked at Mama and said, “Must be somebody coming.”

  “This early in the morning?” Mama said. “I wonder who it could be.”

  “Listen! What’s that?” Daisy said.

  Then we all heard it, the chugging of a motor.

  “Why, that sounds like a car,” Papa said.

  “I think it is a car,” Mama said.

  To see a car pass our home was just about as rare as seeing a white blackbird. I had seen very few of them up until then and those I had seen had passed by in a cloud of dust.

  We hurried out to the porch.

  Rowdy was standing in the middle of the road, with every hair on his back standing straight up, and bawling for a
ll he was worth.

  It was a car, but not like any I had seen. It had one seat and the back of it was nothing but a big box about ten feet high and ten feet long. The box was almost as wide as the road and was painted white and green.

  I heard Papa say, “It’s a truck, but I’ve never seen one like that.”

  “I haven’t either,” Mama said. “It looks like a house built on the back of a car.”

  “I know what it is, Mama,” Daisy said. “I’ve seen pictures of them. It’s a circus truck.”

  When I heard Daisy say that, a funny feeling came over me. My skin started crawling around on my bones.

  Chugging and squeaking, the big truck wheezed up in front of our house and stopped.

  Rowdy must have thought the truck was a booger and he didn’t want it messing around our home. Growling and showing his teeth, he darted in and bit one of the tires.

  I heard Mama say in a low voice, “That crazy dog.”

  On the side of the truck facing us was a picture of a huge gorilla fighting with a big snake. Above the picture, in a half-moon design, large red letters said “Johnson Brothers Circus.”

  Two men got out of the truck and came over to us. One of them said, “Good morning!”

  Papa nodded his head and said, “Mornin’!”

  The man said, “I’m Ben Johnson. This is my brother, Tom. We’re looking for the Lee farm.”

  “You’ve found it,” Papa said. “I’m Bob Lee. This is my family—my wife, Sara; my daughter, Daisy; and my boy, Jay Berry.”

  The Johnson brothers were very polite. They took off their caps and nodded to Mama and Daisy. Then they shook hands with Papa and me.

  I had never shaken hands with a man before and it gave me a wonderful feeling. I felt like I had grown about a foot straight up.

  Ben Johnson smiled and said, “So you’re Jay Berry. Your grandpa says that you have some monkeys for me.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “They’re out in the corn crib.”

  “Could we have a look at them?” Ben Johnson asked.

  “Sure,” I said.

  “It didn’t take you fellows long to get here,” Papa said.