“I got about five guys that look just like him,” Bucky complained. “All about that big, all with hair that exact color. How am I gonna learn their names?”
“Just call ‘em all ‘kid,’” Dan advised. “That’s what I’m going to do. ‘Get over here, kid, and pick up that mess before I pound you.’”
Despite the depression he still felt from the phone call of the night before, Bucky had to laugh. “Litton, you’re going to be Counselor of the Year, I can tell.”
“Hey,” Dan asserted, “you remember what old Ronald Reagan used to say: ‘Peace Through Strength,’ son.”
“Yep.” Bucky glanced out the window as another yellow bus came lumbering up the twisted dirt road leading to the camp. “I wonder if this is about the end of ‘em?”
“You going to get out on that lake again today?”
Bucky’s pulse quickened. “Yeah, I’d like to if I can.”
“You’ve pretty well nailed that start - up.” Dan popped a piece of gum into his mouth. “Before we’re done, you’re going to have to teach me.”
“Sure.” Bucky grinned, thinking about his first attempts at mastering the tricky sensation of being pulled out of the water on a single ski. But after an intensive morning of skiing, it now felt as natural as catching an easy fly ball in center field.
A half - hour before supper, Joe Carpenter announced over the camp public - address system, “Counselors and campers, check in at your cabins. All counselors and campers to your cabins, please.”
A sudden rush of nervousness ran down Bucky’s spine. “Oh boy,” he groaned. “Here we go.”
“Peace through strength,” Dan reminded him again, popping a bubble with his gum. Standing, he headed toward his own cabin assignment.
Leaning against his bunk, Bucky surveyed the ten boys who stood amid their sleeping bags and duffel bags. “Hi, guys,” he began. “I guess you want to know who I am.”
“We already know.” A tall boy with a Florida Marlins hat looked up at him. “Bucky Stone.”
“That’s right.” Bucky tried to manage an easy smile. “We’re going to have a lot of fun this week.”
“Do you teach horseback riding?” one of them wanted to know.
“Nope. I’m one of the water ski instructors here at camp.” He tried to sound confident.
“Cool!” Two of the boys standing in the back gave him admiring looks. “Can you teach us?”
“Sure.” Bucky looked from one to the other. “Why don’t you all tell me your names?”
One after the other, the boys rattled off their names. Bucky squinted, trying to piece together names and faces . . . but one clump of boys did look amazingly alike. “I’ll try to remember,” he said with a grin. “But don’t get mad at me if I forget.” He looked at his watch. “Anybody have any questions before we head over for some supper?”
One of the shorter boys raised his hand. “Mr. Stone?”
The unexpected title made Bucky tingle. Mr. Stone? “Uh, what?”
“I want a top bunk, but there aren’t any left.”
“You don’t want to sleep on the bottom bunk?”
“Huh uh. That’s what I do at home.”
Bucky chewed on his lip, his mind scurrying for an answer. “Who’d you come here with?”
“Logan.”
“Let’s see. That’s . . . you, right?” He nodded toward a taller boy. “Are you in a top bunk?”
“Yeah.”
Bucky gave him an encouraging glance, trying to foster a sense of sympathy in Logan. “How about we split it up? Half a week each?”
“Hey, no way! I got it first.”
“Come on.” Bucky tried to sound reasonable. “We’re here to learn how to be like Jesus. And share and everything. Half a week for you and half a week for Bobby. That’s fair, don’t you think?”
Logan fretted for a moment. “But a week’s seven days. How can you cut that in half?” He shot his counselor a triumphant look.
“Well, we’ll go four nights and three nights. And you can have four nights ‘cause you did get the top bunk first.”
“OK.” Feeling like a victor, Logan accepted the deal.
Bucky grinned. “Is that OK, Bobby? Starting Thursday night, the top bunk’s all yours. Give you something to look forward to.”
The little boy nodded. “OK. Thanks, Mr. Stone.”
For a second Bucky wondered if he’d be hearing “Mr. Stone” all summer long. “Well, we got that fixed,” he said with a laugh. “Come on, men. Let’s see if we can have the cabin that eats more food than anybody else’s. Especially Mr. Litton’s guys.” He laughed again.
The ten boys piled enthusiastically into the cafeteria and loaded up on burger fixings. Bucky winked at Nancy as she handed him an extra handful of French fries.
“Gonna make it?” she asked.
“Piece of cake.” He sat down at the head of the long dining table, motioning his group to be quiet for prayer. “Anybody want to say the blessing?”
A stony silence. One of the boys, reddening a little bit, gave a little shake of his head as Bucky caught his eye.
“Well, guess I’ll go first. Maybe tomorrow you guys’ll loosen up a little bit,” Bucky said easily. Bowing his head, he said a brief prayer.
“Mr. Stone! Donny kicked me!”
“Did not! Jerk!”
As Bucky looked up the two boys glared at each other across the table. “Big mouth,” the younger boy muttered.
Donny retorted with a tight obscenity under his breath.
“Hey!” Bucky stood up and leaned toward the two. “That doesn’t go here, guys. I mean it!”
“I didn’t say nothin’,” the sullen camper retorted.
Standing slowly and deliberately, Bucky walked over until he towered over the two boys. “Well, we’re going to stick to a Christian vocabulary all week, and that’s all there is to it,” he told them. “Anybody flubs up again, and I throw him in the lake.” He tried to inject a note of light cheer, but his eyes still flashed a warning.
The sternness seemed to work. “OK.” Donny nodded dourly as he took a bite of his ketchup - drenched burger.
After campfire, Bucky and his boys gathered around the counselor’s bunk in their cabin. “Tomorrow’s going to be a big first day at camp,” he told them, “so let’s get a good night’s sleep.” He looked from one to the other. “Who’s going skiing with me tomorrow?”
Several of the campers raised their hands.
“All right! I know the rest of you guys’ll have fun too.” He glanced down at his watch. “Guess it’s almost bedtime.”
Briefly he shared a worship thought that had occurred to him during the evening meeting, then closed with a very short prayer. “OK, men, let’s sack out.”
As he lay awake on his bottom bunk, listening to the rhythmic breathing of his young campers, he wondered how Dan was getting along. He felt a deepening sense of responsibility, of being a protector for his boys. Could he reach them with a growing love for Jesus during a short seven days?
“Mr. Stone?” The words were whispered.
“Yeah?” He opened his eyes to see the smallest boy in the cabin standing next to his bed.
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
Bucky tried not to show any impatience. “Do you know where it is?”
“Huh uh.” The little boy looked pained.
“It’s right out there past the next cabin. By that big tree.”
“Can’t you go with me?”
Bucky hesitated. “Sure. Come on.” He pulled himself out of his bunk and pulled on a pair of jeans. “What’s your name again?”
“Monty.”
“Let’s go.”
He waited outside the restroom for the young camper to emerge, stifling a yawn as he looked around at the shadows untouched by the single light bulb illuminating the pine cone – covered ground.
“All set?” he asked as the boy came back out. Monty nodded. “OK, let’s get back to sleep.”
; The days of Week One fell into place easily as Bucky got better acquainted with his ten campers. Despite minor temper flare-ups, the boys seemed to sense that their counselor had a no - nonsense determination just underneath the surface of his easygoing nature. Bucky and Dan talked about it during supper Thursday evening.
“I gotta admit you’re right,” Bucky confessed as they stood watching their two respective squads gobbling down their corn on the cob and jello. “These guys really want to feel like somebody’s in charge of ‘em.”
“Yeah.” Dan shot a warning glance at one of his boys who was wadding up a paper napkin to toss across the dining room. “I just had to let them know that Mr. Litton was the major boss of their life.”
“‘Mr. Litton.’ I love it.” Bucky grinned.
Suddenly Dan gave him a little punch on the arm. “Well, lookie here. Somebody’s got a pretty visitor.”
Bucky glanced up. Standing in the entrance to the cafeteria was . . . Tracy. “What in the world?”
“Trackin’ you down to the ends of the earth.” Dan gave a little laugh as he popped a final bite of pudding into his mouth.
The redhead spotted them and walked over. “Hello, boys.”
“Hey.” Bucky tried to maintain his composure in front of his charges. “How’d you find us here?”
She gave her bubbly laugh. “You’re forgetting that I have a high IQ,” she told Bucky. “It didn’t take much spying.”
“I know, but . . .” He wiped his hands off with his napkin and stood up. “I mean, how’d you come to be way out here?”
She edged closer and leaned an elbow on his shoulder. “Oh, I made a little two - day excursion up to Reno to see my cousins, and decided to come back down the long way. And check on your prison camp here.”
Bucky could feel the fascinated stares of ten pairs of eyes on him and Tracy. “It’s nice to see you.” He forced a laugh. “It’s just been Litton and me and the monsters.”
Tracy scanned the row of eager campers. “Hello, boys.” She laughed. “Is Bucky treating you OK?”
“You mean Mr. Stone?” Monty piped up.
The redhead snickered. “Mr. Stone?”
“That’s right. Show a little respect.” Bucky scowled at her.
She reached down and pulled him up by the arm. “Well, come on, Mr. Stone. Show me around the prison yard.”
He glanced over at Dan. “Can you watch my guys until they’re done eating? I’ll just give Tracy a tour and then be back before worship.”
“Sure.” Dan let his chest swell up. “I can boss twenty little squirts just as easy as ten.”
“No way!” Several of his boys protested.
“Aaah, go on.” Dan gave the couple a cheerful wave of dismissal.
Bucky and Tracy walked down to the lake chatting easily about the week’s activities. “So do you, like, stay with these kids twenty-four hours a day?” she wanted to know.
Bucky explained the daily routine, including his recent success as a water - skiing instructor. “It’s really kind of fun,” he told her. “Like Pastor Jensen said, it’s like getting paid for playing all day.”
“Pretty good.” She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm as they walked along the lake’s edge. “Except you’re not around to come check out my swimming pool back home.” She shot him an inviting look. “I got me a new swimming suit I think you’d kind of like.”
Her presence reminded him of his recent resolution about romantic involvement with girls who weren’t committed Christians. A brief flicker of weakness seemed to flow through him. “Yeah.” He looked down at her. “I guess that’ll have to wait until the end of the summer.”
The ringing of the bell reminded him that it was nearly time for campfire worship. “You want to stay?”
She shook her head. “It’s still a long drive home.” When they reached the parking lot, she suddenly eased closer, giving him a little farewell hug. In the background Bucky heard a muffled cheer go up from a small knot of boys.
“Now look what you’ve done,” he scolded, trying to hide an embarrassed smile.
“Oops.” She looked up at him with a teasing glance, then held out her right hand in a formal gesture. “Well, good - bye, Mr. Stone. It was delightful to see you again.”
“Oh, give me a break.” He laughed. Despite his resolutions, it was impossible not to like Tracy. She gave him a little wave as her car disappeared around the corner in a cloud of dust.
“Is that your girlfriend?” Logan didn’t waste two seconds coming to the point as Bucky walked back toward the main lodge.
“No, just a friend of mine.” He gave the boy his best look of nonchalance.
“Boy, too bad. She’s a babe.” The ten - year - old nodded emphatically.
“Come on, let’s go to worship.” Bucky quickly counted heads. “Guess we’re all here.”
Right before lights - out the campers gathered around for their usual prayer ritual. Bucky looked from one to the other, savoring the feelings of real friendship that were forming among the group.
“Any deep thoughts tonight?”
Silence. Finally Logan raised his hand.
“Yeah, what?”
The dark-haired boy hesitated. “How do you . . .”
A long pause.
“Come on. What?”
The boy looked embarrassed. “How do you, like, get a girlfriend?”
The boys exploded in a good - natured round of jeers. “Oh, brother.” Bobby shook his head in derision.
“Hey.” Bucky quieted the teasing. “That’s actually a good question.”
“That girl with the red hair really wasn’t your girlfriend?”
Their counselor shook his head. “No, Monty. She really wasn’t.”
“How come?”
For a moment Bucky weighed his words. “OK, I’m going to tell you,” he said at last. Briefly he described his recent experience with Tracy and his determination to only allow a relationship to develop with another Christian. The boys listened without comment.
“So she isn’t one?”
He shook his head. “Well, I just don’t think she’s ever had much chance to think about it before.”
“If she was a Christian, would you start liking her then?” Bobby this time.
Bucky grinned. “I like her now. I mean, she’s a great girl. And you saw how cute she is.” They all bashfully nodded.
“But I’m just not going steady with her or anything. And I’m never going to with anyone who doesn’t love Jesus like I do.”
“Wow.” Logan seemed impressed. “That must be kind of hard.”
Bucky nodded. “It is.” He looked directly at the camper. “But it’s the only way. And it’s what I figure you men ought to decide too. When the time comes.”
“In about forty years,” Bobby declared.
“Right!” Bucky laughed. “Come on, guys, let’s get to sleep. Tomorrow some of you guys are going to get up on one ski or I’m fired.”
Chapter Five: Ski Teacher
The second week of summer camp went by at a dreamlike pace. Nine boys, older this time, blended into a unit that by Tuesday was cheerfully bonded. Bucky remarked about it to Dan as they sat with their groups for the Saturday evening campfire. “Man, this is easier than I thought.” He glanced down at his row of guys as they listened to the final installment of the continued adventure story.
“Yeah, me too.” Dan, sporting an ever - deepening tan, was clearly enjoying his summer. “This crew of kids is no sweat at all.” He looked up at the moonlight as it filtered through the tops of the pine trees. “I guess we’re just born leaders, Stone.”
Sunday morning was the usual ritual of good-byes and hellos as Bucky and Dan welcomed the new recruits. Primary Camp was another flock of younger kids, ranging in age from eight to ten. One in particular was a whiny - looking child, Bucky noted. While not exactly crying, he edged close to his mother when it came time for her departure.
“I’ll write to you every day,” Bu
cky heard her promise. “And you can see your counselor right over there. Doesn’t he look like a nice man?”
Right before supper he gathered the young boys around for the usual get - acquainted session. By now learning names was easier for him, although it was still difficult to let go of last week’s names in order to begin memorizing the fresh batch.
“And I guess you guys can call me Mr. Stone.” The title now sounded almost normal to him. “Or just Boss.” He laughed. “Anybody hungry yet?” As they walked down the path toward the cafeteria, he noticed one of his boys who had been ahead of him now began to hang back a little bit. Quickening his own pace, he caught up with the child. “What’s your name again?”
The boy kept his gaze fixed on the ground just ahead. “Alex.”
“Oh, yeah.” Bucky sized up the new camper. Typical size, maybe a little bit skinny for his age. Very dark eyes, sober. “Your mom and dad bring you up this morning?”
“Just my dad.”
“Where do you live?”
Alex gave a little sniff and wiped at his nose. “Just near here. I forget the name of it.”
“Oh.” Bucky turned and whistled to one of the other boys who was also lagging behind. “Don’t get lost.”
After supper the new team gathered for campfire worship in the amphitheater. Definitely a quieter bunch, Bucky noticed. It had none of the jovial teasing and good - natured shoving that had characterized the previous week’s kids. Looking around, he noticed that Alex was sitting away from the other boys, a serious little scowl on his face.
“Hey. Come sit here by us!” Bucky tried to keep his tone light. “We won’t bite.”
At first Alex looked down at his feet and mumbled something, but finally edged just a few inches closer.
The new camp pastor was a tall Black ministerial intern from Pacific College. “Pastor Jack,” as he instructed the 150 kids to call him. “And if anybody calls me anything but Pastor Jack” – he lowered his voice menacingly – “especially if anybody tries to call me Pastor Washington, even though that’s my name . . . I’m just going to go deaf on that kid. Pastor Washington sounds too much like the President or something.” His laugh echoed through the trees.
“Who’s going water - skiing tomorrow?” Bucky asked after the meeting as the boys gathered around his bunk. Seven of them raised their hands.
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