Tales of a Texas Boy

by Marva Dasef

  I leaned around the tree trunk and eyed the line. Yep, I could see right down it. My hands aren’t big enough to span both triggers, so I have to pull them one at a time. I figured I’d shoot the first barrel and then real quick-like, fire off the second. That way, I’d get to hit the flock twice.

  I eased the shotgun up to my shoulder and pulled back slow on the left-hand trigger. The first shot blasted off and knocked me back a few feet where I landed on my rear-end real hard. I still held the shotgun in my hands, but I wasn’t in any position to fire off the second barrel. When I sat up and looked to see how many birds I got, I was in for a shock. All that noise and not one feather to show for it. But Ma’s clothesline . . . now that’s a different story. The durn thing looked like a dead snake layin’ there.

  I knew right away Ma would not be pleased with this.

  I got myself up and was wonderin’ what to do next when I looked up and saw the blackbirds flyin’ in a circle like they were waitin’ for the clothesline to be put back up for ‘em to light on.

  Well, that burned me up they were so cheeky. To get even with ‘em, I set the butt of the shotgun on the ground, pointed it up at those birds and, standin’ to the side, pulled the second trigger. Boom! The birds flew up in the air, but I got me a little flashburn on my face from the hot barrel. I hadn’t leaned far enough away, I guess.

  My ears was ringin’, but I decided I’d better get some twine and string a new clothesline before Ma got home. When I started up to the house, I saw Sister standin’ on the porch, laughin’ her fool head off. Of course, she’d watched the whole darn thing. Now, I knew if I were goin’ to get away without a whippin’, I’d have to come to an understandin’ with her.

  “Sister,” I called out in a real sweet voice.

  She took one look at the gun in my hands, shrieked and ran into the house, slammin’ the door behind her. By the time I reached the porch, she’d thrown the bolt and locked me out.

  “C’mon now. I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

  I could hear her laughin’ behind the door. That peeved me even more.

  “I just need to get some twine so’s I can fix the clothesline. You unlock the door and let me in,” I said as nice as you please.

  “No way, Eddie, you’ll beat me up to make me be quiet.”

  “Now, why would I do that? Sure, I don’t want you to tell Ma, but there ain’t no reason for me to beat you up.”

  She seemed to think about this for awhile, then she finally unlatched the door. I jumped through before she could change her mind.

  I grabbed her by one pigtail as she was tryin’ to hightail it to the kitchen.

  “I won’t beat you up now, but if’n you tell Ma, I’ll whip you good,” I said, mean like, so she’d know I was serious.

  She started cryin’ so I let go of her hair.

  “You promise me,” I yelled at her. I knew bein’ mean only went so far with Sister.

  “Oh, quit bawlin’, you little baby. Just shut your mouth and I won’t beat you up.”

  She snuffled a little more, but seemed to be done with the cryin’. I felt bad about yellin’ at her, but this was serious business. If Ma found out about the clothesline, then I’d be marched to the woodshed.

  So, I went to the loft and got out the box I kept hid under the bed. I shuffled through and found some jawbreakers.

  I gave the jawbreakers to Sister and got her to promise not to tell. I hoped she’d remember her promise. If she tol’ then I’d have no choice but to follow up on my threat. If you don’t keep your promises, nobody will believe you next time.

  I found some twine and went back out to put up a new clothesline. I dragged the ladder from the barn along with the hammer and some nails. I was almost done when I saw the cloud of dust on the road signaling Ma and Pa were on their way. I hurried up and drug the ladder back to the barn and put away the tools. I managed to be sittin’ on the front steps when the Model A chugged to a stop in front of the house.

  Ma and Pa got out and started up the path toward me. They started to walk slower and began turnin’ their heads left and right like they were lookin’ for somethin’. I started whistlin’ to show I didn’t have a care.

  They stopped right in front of me and Ma gave me that look.

  “What? I’m not doin’ anything,” I said, like butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth.

  “What? You tell me what,” Ma said. Now, she stood with her fists on her hips and her mouth gettin’ tight. Pa kind of turned to one side and I could see he was tryin’ to keep from smilin’.

  I let out my breath kind of slow and hung my head. I was thinkin’ fast and furious now. Should I go ahead and tell her about the clothesline? After all, it was fixed good as new. Or, maybe I should just keep quiet and let Ma have her suspicions.

  Dorothy came to the door suckin’ on a jawbreaker so big her mouth was full. Still, she managed to open it just a little bit more. “Eddie shot down the clothesline, Ma.”

  I looked at Sister with what I hoped was a promise she was goin’ get it, but good.

  Pa started laughin’ out loud at this point. I don’t think he ever took anything too serious as long as there weren’t no blood involved.

  Ma grabbed me by the collar and we took the long, slow walk out to the woodshed. She glanced over at the clothesline as we went by and saw I’d fixed it up. I hoped it would let her hand go a bit easy. I was right and I only got three good switches.

  Sister will keep one eye open tonight, but I think I’ll just wait to get back at her when she least expects it.

  The Luck Brothers

  While nobody lived close enough you could talk over the fence, there were neighbors. Most are normal folk, but some of them were just a bit stranger than the others.

  Fred and Frank Luck lived up the road about six miles. We didn’t have much to do with them, but one time we, meanin’ Pa and me, had to go visiting. They was an odd pair, bein’ identical twins who purely hated each other. Their ma died when she birthed them and their pa pretty much let them go wild. A few of the womenfolk hereabouts helped out when they were just babies, but once they got to ten or so, they pretty much did what they pleased.

  After the boys grew up, their pa died and they inherited the farm equal between them. Fred wanted to sell the farm, take his share, and move to Houston. Frank wanted to keep the farm, so he didn’t allow it to be sold. That was the start of their feudin’ and they’d been at each other ever since.

  My Aunt Lyddie, Pa’s sister, had a daughter Eva, who started actin’ wild when she was seventeen or thereabouts. Well, that’s what Aunt Lyddie said anyway. Eva finished up with school and took to hangin’ round at the Luck’s place.

  One day, Aunt Lyddie come up the road in her wagon drawn up by her old horse Ned. She never did get the hang of startin’ up her Model T, though she bought one first thing they come to Lubbock. Pa and me went up and helped her down from the wagon.

  “Louis,” she says to Pa, “you gotta hep me get Eva way from the Luck boys. She ain’t been home for the last week and I’m afeared she’s goin’ to . . .” She looks down at me and says, “well, you know.”

  Pa replied, “Whatever’s goin’ to happen probably already did, Lyddie. Not much we can do about it now.”

  “Still, I don’t want her up with the Lucks. Those boys go crazy sometimes and she might get hurt if’n she comes between ‘em.”

  “Well, now, don’t fret none, Lyddie. Me and the boy here will drive on up there and see what we can do.”

  This seemed to satisfy Lyddie, who proceeded to go up to the house to visit awhile with Ma.

  Pa turned to me and says, “Wanna go for a drive, Eddie?”

  “Sure, Pa.” It was fine with me as I’d been cleanin’ out the chicken yard and anything’d be better than that chore.

  Pa and I pushed the Model A out of the barn and cranked her up. We jumped in and proceeded up the road to the Luck’s farm.

  It didn’t take but a half hour to drive the six miles. When we w
ere gettin’ close, we heard the sound of a shotgun firin’ off. As we pulled off onto the road leadin’ up to the Luck’s house, we heard shoutin’ as well.

  Pa looked at me and says, “Be sure to watch close and be ready to duck down behind the truck.”

  It made me a little nervous. It was well known Fred and Frank would go at each other just about anyplace they happened to be. Once, they both spent a night in jail when they got into a fist fight at the General Store. The Sheriff didn’t much care which one started it, so he just let them both spend the night in the pokey. He let ‘em out early enough to go take care of the livestock and didn’t do anything else.

  Now, they pretty much kept their fightin’ at home. Most often they’d just flail at each other for awhile and then one or t’other would go off in a huff. Hearin’ gunfire made me think the feud was only gettin’ worse.

  When we get up to the farmyard, we saw Frank, or maybe it was Fred, standin’ by the corral kind of hid behind a post and he was firin’ off shotgun blasts toward the granary. We could see the wood splinter as he fired. I glimpsed the other one, most likely Fred, around the side of the building.

  “Frank, you cut that out!” Pa shouted.

  “I ain’t Frank, Mr. Perkins,” the shotgun holder answered back.

  “Well, then, Fred, you cut that out.”

  “But, Mr. Perkins, that no-good brother o’ mine called me a dirty lowdown skunk. I can’t rightly take it without answerin’!”

  Pa motioned to me to stand behind the truck bed and I went round as quick as I could. Pa started walkin’ slow toward Fred movin’ his hands in a placatin’ way.

  “Well, I’m sure you two can work it out if’n you’ll just put the gun away, Fred.”

  Then, Pa calls out louder. “Frank, come on out.”

  “No sirree! I ain’t crazy, Mr. Perkins. That idiot will just shoot me if’n I come out,” Frank yelled, peekin’ round the corner of the granary.

  While the talkin’ was goin’ on, Pa kept gettin’ closer to Fred until he was an arm’s reach away. He grabbed the double barrel of the shotgun and snatched it away and tossed the gun behind him about ten feet.

  “All right, Frank, you can come out now. Fred doesn’t have the shotgun anymore.”

  Frank come out slow from behind the buildin’ lookin’ hard to make sure what Pa said was the truth. When he seen Fred didn’t have the gun, he walked on over. He gets up a couple of feet away and he lunged out at Fred and grabbed him round the neck.

  The brothers fell down on the ground and started wrestlin’ and screamin’ some pretty bad words.

  “You low-down weasel!” Bam! Frank smacked Fred right in the eye.

  “You yellow-bellied hornswoggler!” Whap! Fred hit him right back.

  Pa stood there a bit with his hands on his hips. He looked to be ponderin’ whether or not to separate them. Finally, he bent down and grabbed both the Lucks by their collars and hauled them right up on their feet. My jaw dropped as I didn’t think Pa had it in him. He held ‘em both at arms length until they quit strugglin’, then he let them go.

  Frank feints to the right like he’s tryin’ to get round Pa, but it didn’t do him no good. Pa just stuck out his arm straight and slammed ol’ Frank right in the chest. I thought it was Frank, anyways. With both of them wearin’ coveralls, there’s not much to tell the difference between ‘em.

  Finally, they settled down some when they saw Pa wouldn’t let ‘em go at it again.

  “Now, you boys can start up again when we’re gone, but while I’m here you’ll be actin’ the straight and narrow.”

  The two of them nodded with their heads downcast some. I think Pa’d taken the fight out of ‘em for now.

  Then, Pa says, “We only come up here to fetch Eva. Where is she?”

  Frank, or Fred, jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the house. I looked over and saw Eva at the doorway. Pa walked up to her and takes her by the arm.

  “You all better get back home, Eva. Your ma’s worried about you.”

  She glanced over at the Luck boys, but saw they weren’t going to stop her from leavin’, so she just sighed and walked over to the truck and got in. The Luck boys just stood there like they were waitin’ for us to leave.

  I jumped into the truck bed and Pa started it up. As we was headin’ toward the road, I was lookin’ back and saw one of the Lucks shove the other on the shoulder, then they were down on the ground again walin’ away on each other. I surely was glad I didn’t have a twin brother if’n this is how they behaved.

  We bounced back down the road to our place, where Aunt Lyddie was still waitin’ with Ma. They came out of the house when they saw us drive up. Aunt Lyddie headed straight over to the truck, opened the door, and drug Eva out. There was fire in her eyes, and I almost felt sorry for Eva.

  Pa pointed to the chicken yard. I heaved a big sigh. The excitement was over and there was still chores to be done.

  Didn’t make any difference anyhow, as she went back up to the Luck’s place the next day. She ended up marrying one of ‘em. Must have been Fred ‘cause they moved to Houston.

  Ma’s Story

  Mothers have their own joys and sorrows. Too often they keep their feelings to themselves and even their own families don’t know.

  When I was a boy, my Ma was a woman of few words, which surprised quite a few folks. The town ladies came out to visit on occasion and she’d go to town to return the favor, but mostly she listened. That did set her apart from the gossipers and them that just liked to talk to hear themselves.

  Ma married Pa when she was only eighteen years old. Pa was married before and got divorced, which was pretty unusual at the time. Flossie, Pa’s first wife, had a son name of Harley, but we didn’t ever see them. So, Pa was somewhat older than Ma and I think she was quiet out of respect for her elders.

  I didn’t really notice this when I was a kid, but only started thinking about it after she died. I wanted to remember everything I could, so that’s why I wrote down some of the stories. This here’s Ma’s story as I think she would have told it herself.

  * * *

  When I first met Louis, I was surprised, but pleased, an older man would be interested in me. I didn’t even know he was my cousin until the day we met. My mother told me we were related on her side of the family, but I didn’t ever figure out how it was. Maybe we weren’t actual cousins, but somehow we shared family a ways back.

  Louis was fifteen years my senior. He’d been married, had a child, and gone to war. All this set him apart from the boys my own age. He was a gentle man and a gentleman, as I liked to describe him. He was always ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ and ‘after you miss.’ It seemed like he took to me pretty quick, ‘cause he wasn’t a shy man, neither.

  We got married in Iowa, but moved off to Oklahoma when we were still newlyweds. Louis tried running a general store, but that made him restless, I think. When Edward, our first son, was born, we packed up and moved south to Hereford, Texas. Louis saved up enough for us to lease a farm. It was a nice place with six hundred forty acres we kept in wheat, sorghum, and corn. We had a good business raising pigs.

  Of course, we owned horses. I swear, Louis couldn’t live without a horse or two around. He’d been a horse doctor when he was in the World War in France. We also kept a few breeding jackasses, and charged out their services to the other farmers hereabouts. I do recall the problems with Bucephalus the jackass, or Beau as we called him. It makes me laugh when I think of the time when he nearly choked himself to death. Not that it would be funny if’n he’d choked, mind you, only it was funny the look on little Eddie’s face when he come runnin’ licketysplit into the house demanding I give him a butcher knife. I had to stop him and settle him down to find out Beau was needin’ rescue.

  Not long after that incident, Dorothy was born. Oh, she was the apple of her father’s eye, no doubt about it. She was such a pretty little girl and followed Edward around like a pup. They went ever’where together.

&n
bsp; One summer, we sent the two of them down south to visit the Porter family, cousins of mine. They sure did have an adventure then. They’d spent a good part of the summer collectin’ cow bones and sellin’ them to make a little money. When they were out one day, they’d rode clear over into New Mexico and met up with a young man there. He’d showed them some mammoth bones, fossils he called them, he’d found in Blackwater Draw. They sure did enjoy that adventure. The two of them couldn’t talk about much else when they got back. To tell the truth, it was Eddie did the talkin’ as Dorothy was a quiet girl.

  When Eddie and Sister were eight and four, if I recall, we had Mary Ada. She was sickly born and never did get much better. It broke me when she died of typhoid. She just wasn’t strong enough to fight it off. I was broken up more’n I thought by her dyin’. It wasn’t ‘til years later I understood how I’d kind of, well, shut down. I’m ashamed I quit carin’ much about anything.

  Mrs. Walters next door would have those afternoon teas, with fine china and silver and little sandwiches with the crusts cut off. After some urging by Louis, I went to one wearin’ my blue-checked Sunday dress and white gloves with the little pearls on them. I listened to the ladies talk about children and recipes and laundry soap and such, but my heart wasn’t in it. My heart wasn’t in my other children either. I’m even sorrier to admit that.

  I did come out of it some when James and John were born less’n two years apart. With two little boys to take care of, I didn’t have any choice but to come around. I guess I’d just mourned long enough.

  Those years between Mary Ada dyin’ and James being born, I let Edward and Dorothy go their own way. I was fortunate Eddie had a good head on his shoulders and that he looked after Sister.