The bell rang and I walked back into class thinking about what John Clayton had said. I glanced back at Rosalie and she gave me the biggest smile. Forget that stupid John Clayton.
***
Two more days passed without any trail being picked up by the bloodhounds, and everybody figured they’d done hopped a freight train, and by now they were out of the state. As the next couple of days passed, everything began to get back to normal. Kids were now playing all the way at the back of the playground near the woods. Heck, I missed all the excitement, and when Wednesday passed without any sign of the escapees, the bloodhounds were put up until someone sighted them. Now even the state police were saying they must have gotten away—but little did they know, them guys were still lurking just down the road from my house in Flat Creek Swamp
CHAPTER NINE
Homer Ray and Ronnie
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Wow, I know you won’t believe how loud that dang clock is. Shoot, it’d wake the dead.
“Dang that stupid clock,” I muttered as I crawled out of bed, and funny books fell all over the floor. I took one look at them and shook my head. “Dadgum it!” I muttered, “I’ve read these stupid funny books to death. I’ve gotta trade for some new ones.” I pulled 10 of the absolutely sorriest, beat-up, ones I owned and set them on the little table by my bed. I won’t trade any Tarzan or Captain Marvel. The no-trade stack contained funny books that I never got tired of reading, and Tarzan is my all-time favorite. After the paper route I was gonna go trade with Ears.
I walked over to my closet and pulled out my clothes. You might guess, my summer clothes ain’t much. Today I put on a pair of cutoff blue jeans. Yeah, that’s it. No underwear, no shoes, no shirt, no cap or nothing else. Well, cutoff shorts are summer clothes, but heck, I’ve been going barefoot to school since April. All you have to do is bring a note to school from your momma saying you can go barefooted to school. Shoot, it ain’t just me, but almost every boy, and quite a few of the girls in school goes barefooted from late April until mid-September. ’Course, Rosalie would never even think about going barefooted, but that dang Connie does, and she’s usually the first one in school to show up without shoes. Well, ’Course, if I take a trip to the big town of El Dorado or go to church I’ll wear shoes. However, going barefooted all day, every day, is sometimes really painful, especially the first few weeks when your feet are white and tender, and that’s because our schoolyard is full of what we call sticker burrs. Well, it’d been a month since I started going barefooted, and the soles of my feet were hard and tough. Shoot, I could run through a sticker burr patch without no problems.
***
Oh, for gosh sakes, late again! It was almost 5:30. I ran all the way to the newsstand, and sure enough there was Doc sitting in his wheelchair, looking real mean, and holding my paper bag.
“Richard, you’re late! I’m gonna deduct 50 cents from your route money!”
“Yes sir! I’m sorry. Momma had me taking out the trash and picking up my room. I couldn’t tell Momma no, could I?”
“Humm?”
’Course, that sorry little lie got Doc to thinking about me telling Momma I wouldn’t gonna do something, so he kinda shook his head and said, “Oh, well, don’t be late again, you hear!”
“Yes sir.” Doc always wanted an excuse. It didn’t matter to Doc what the excuse was, you just needed an excuse. Momma wasn’t even up when I left home, but Doc didn’t need to know that.
The papers were real light, and I ran most of the route, finishing in almost record time. As I walked in, I glanced at the clock hanging above Doc’s desk. “Fifty-five minutes Doc, not bad!” I walked to the back room of the newsstand and dropped my bag.
“Hey, wait just a minute, Richard. Did you throw all your papers? You haven’t been gone an hour.”
“Yes, sir, every one of ’em.”
“Now, Richard, you’d better tell me the truth. You know anybody that you missed will show up here to tell me and get a paper.”
“Doc, I promise—cross my heart. I ran the route today, because the papers were so light.”
“Humph, maybe if you can finish the route that quick, I’m paying you too much.”
“No, Doc, you know some days it takes me nearly two hours.”
“Well, we’ll see.”
Me and Sniffer left the newsstand at a good run, and we were back home in just a few minutes. I ran into the kitchen and headed for the table.
“Momma, I’m home. Where’s breakfast?”
“Sit down, Richard; it’s almost ready.” In a few minutes Momma sat bacon and eggs with two big biscuits in front of me. Daddy was sitting there drinking a second cup of coffee while he read the El Dorado Daily News.
“Anything in the paper about catching the escaped prisoners? I asked.
“Yes, it said someone spotted them trying to cross the highway, but before the state police and posse could get there they ran back into the swamp.”
"Gosh! Really, Daddy? Were they up close to our house?"
Momma stopped what she was doing and started getting a real worried looked on her face. Then Daddy glanced her way and said to me, “No, Richard. They were several miles down the road. They brought in the dogs from Tucker Prison and trailed them for most of the day, but the dogs lost them after they started wading in Flat Creek.”
Heck, I could just see on Daddy’s face—he was lyin’ like a sorry yard dog—again. Them escapees were probably just right on the edge of our farm. Waiting to sneak up and rob or shoot us. Daddy gave me a little shake of the head, and I knew that meant to not ask a question that would worry Momma. So I just asked about how they was able to stay out in the swamp.
“Heck, Daddy, they’ve been in that swamp and sleeping out in the woods for several days, and I’ll bet the mosquitoes and snakes have almost eaten ’em up. I don’t think they can last much longer.”
“You're probably right about that, Richard. I talked with the sheriff yesterday and he didn't think they could hold out but another day or two without food. They'll probably turn themselves in pretty soon."
Momma started getting nervous again, and Daddy kicked me under the table. That’s how I knew we'd said enough about the escaped prisoners. Well, I started gobbling down my breakfast again, and in less than 10 minutes I was finished.
“Richard, how many times have I told you to slow down when you’re eating?”
“Oh, Momma, I was so hungry and you cook the best breakfast!” Momma always liked someone to say her cooking was great.
Momma smiled. “Well, okay, Richard. You can be excused.”
I walked into my room still thinking about them sorry criminals. Shoot, they may be in Canada by now, crossed my mind—but I didn’t believe it—not a bit.
I picked up the funny books I’d set out to trade, and headed out the door to Ears’s house. “Momma,” I hollered, “I’m going over to Ears’s house to trade funny books. I’ll be back after while.”
I was almost to Ears’s house when I looked down the sidewalk and spotted that sorry Homer Ray.
“Dang,” I muttered, “Trouble.” Oh, my gosh, I knew that sorry kid was gonna give me fits again. Heck, last year my daddy whipped up on his daddy for picking on me, and I thought I was through with that bully. Then, a few months later, right out of the blue, Daddy said he and Mr. Parks, Homer Ray’s daddy, talked and they’d decided that me and Homer Ray should settle things ourselves and the grownup shouldn’t get involved. Shoot, I nearly died when Daddy said that, and sure enough in a few days that worthless kid was all over me again. Heck, I could just smell trouble as he walked up to me.
“Hey stupid, did you bring me some funny books?”
“Homer Ray, leave me alone. I’m going to Ears’s house to trade.”
“Gimme them funny books!” Homer Ray grabbed me, and I tried to keep them away from him, but he twisted my wrist until I turned them loose.
“Let’s see—no not this one.” He ripped it in half. “Hey, I li
ke this Donald Duck.”
Homer Ray went through my 10 funny books ripping in half the ones he didn’t like. He selected three and slapped me across the face with a rolled up Terry and the Pirates.
“Thanks for the funny books, Dumb, Dumb.” Then he walked back toward his house leaving me standing there so mad I could hardly breathe.
“Dang, that bully! I’ve gotta do something! He’s making my life miserable!” I mumbled. Yeah, I guess I knew right then that sooner or later I was gonna have it out with Homer Ray, and Daddy shor wasn’t gonna be no help. I walked back home and picked out 10 more funny books, and in a few minutes I was walking back toward Ears’s house.
I had my head down looking at one of my funny books, trying to decide whether to trade it or not, when I glanced up. Oh, my gosh! Rosalie and Freckles, Rosalie’s best friend, were coming down the sidewalk heading straight for me. I stopped, smiled, and tried to think of something really smart to say, but after stuttering for a few seconds all I could think of was, “Hot enough for ya?”
“Oh, hi, Richard. Yeah, it is kinda warm, but heck this is Arkansas,” said Rosalie.
Well, how do you answer that? I stammered and then just mumbled something, like “Yeah, uh, huh,” and walked on up the sidewalk. I couldn’t believe how that girl made me feel. She was just so darn pretty I couldn’t keep from staring at those blue eyes, and when I did that everything about me froze up. I tried to forget about Rosalie, as I headed on up the sidewalk to Ears’s house, but of course I couldn’t. It was only another 100 yards up the sidewalk and pretty soon I was standing out in his front yard yelling.
“Ears! Ears!” Ears walked out on his porch with a funny book in his hand—uh, huh, just like I said, he’s the Funny Book King of Norphlet.
“Hey, Richard, whats ya doin’?”
“Ears, I’ve brought 10 of my very best funny books, and they’re almost brand new. How about trading?”
“Well, maybe, but only if your funny books have the covers on them, and ain’t a year old.”
“Shoot, Ears, these funny books are almost new.” Ears walked back in his house, and in a few minutes he came back with a huge stack of comics.
“Here, Ears, I have 10. I’ll pick out 10 from your stack.”
“Not so fast, Richard. Look at them sorry funny books of yours. They’re in terrible shape. New? Heck, some of your funny books are old as the hills, and Archie? Nobody wants those stupid Archie funny books.”
“Well, yours ain’t much better.” I glanced at Ears’s stack of funny books, and right on top was an almost new Tarzan. “Hey, I want that Tarzan. Here, I’ll give you two of these Donald Ducks for it.”
“Heck, no! This Tarzan is almost new. I’ve only read it two times.”
“I don’t believe you, Ears, but I’ll give you your pick of three for it.”
“Nope, if you get this here Tarzan, you’re gonna have to give me all 10 of your funny books.”
“They ain’t no way on God’s green earth I’m gonna trade 10 for one! You can keep your old, lousy, beat-up Tarzan!” Ears started picking up his funny books, and I had a little, I really want that funny book thought, zip through me. Dadgum it! I gotta have that new Tarzan.
Ears just ignored me, and he was about to walk back in his house.
“Wait a minute, Ears—it’s a trade.” Ears smiled and handed me the Tarzan funny book, and I gave him all 10 of mine. As I walked back home thumbing through my new Tarzan, I realized why Ears has so many funny books.
“Dang it! Out traded-again!”
The sidewalk was already scorching hot and it was just 9 o’clock. Boy, summer had gotten off to a heck of a start. The sidewalk might be hot but the only thing that would bother my feet now was what we call bull nettle. Shoot, stickers burrs ain’t nothing compared to bull nettle. That danged bull nettle has some little old bitty thorns that don’t look like they could hurt a fly, but them little thorns are full of a poison that causes blisters and it starts hurting just as soon as you touch it. Oh, you ain’t had nothing hurt you like that in your entire born days.
***
That afternoon me and John Clayton met an old friend who was back in town, Ronnie Lowery. Ronnie lives way out in Oklahoma and goes to a big school, and, shoot, he doesn’t get to go barefooted until he arrives in Norphlet, and so as soon as Ronnie gets to town every summer, he takes off his shoes and shirt. ’Course, he wants to show everybody he’s one of the gang, so he joins us playing around town sporting them clean, tender, white feet. That afternoon, I took one look at them white feet and smiled at John Clayton. He nodded his head, and I yelled. “Ronnie, come on, we’re going to the ball field!” We took off running right through an old weedy field where we knew there were bunches of sticker burrs and plenty of bull nettles.
“Come on, Ronnie, you slow poke!”
Heck, we were running like the wind, but all of a sudden I looked over my shoulder, and I almost fainted. Connie had just appeared out of the blue, and she was flying across the field right behind us. Well, I really turned it on, and I left John Clayton in the dust, but that dang Connie was coming up behind me like nothing I’ve ever seen. I was running faster than I’ve ever run in my whole, entire life, and I managed to hold her off until we were almost to the ball field. She was about to pass me when I stopped.
“Hey, let’s wait on Ronnie,” I said as Connie flashed by.
Connie pulled up, turned around, and yelled back, “Chicken! ’Fraid I’m gonna beat ya?”
“Naw, Connie, I wasn’t trying to race,” I lied. “Heck, we were just trotting over to the ball field.”
“Trotting? Ha! Oh, come on, Richard!”
“Yeah, we wanted to get Ronnie to run across the field through all those stickers,” snickered John Clayton as he walked up.
About that time we heard Ronnie yelling, “Oh! Ohooo! Wait up! Stop! I can’t go any further! Dang, you two! You knew there was a bunch of stickers in this field! And dadgum it! I stepped in a big bull nettle!”
“Aw, come on, Ronnie, you crybaby.” I yelled.
After a slow crawl out of the sticker burr patch, he sat down and started going though the slow, painful process of pulling out each sticker. We walked over to see how Ronnie was doing, and he was whining about the bull nettle stings. Well, Connie’s feet were as tough as ours so running through them stickers didn’t bother her one little bit, but she was hot about poor Ronnie, who had sat down, feeling just miserable as he pulled out stickers and whimpered about the bull nettle.
“You two should be ashamed of yourselves!” Connie yelled at us.
“Hey, we didn’t make Ronnie run through them stickers,” I said. Then I did a little shake of my shoulders and grinned. John Clayton stuck out his tongue at Connie and we both laughed. Heck, it was really funny, and I remember just standing there looking at Ronnie, laughing and having a great time. Me and John Clayton were wearing cut-off shorts with no shirts or shoes, and we were brown as a burned cotton boll. ’Course, Connie was dressed the same except she did have on a sleeveless t-shirt. I’ll admit she did kinda look cute with her messed up short blonde hair and brown tanned skin, but she was really mad at us, so, heck, being cute and mad didn’t seem to go together.
Then I looked over a Ronnie who was still sitting on the ground pulling out the last of the stickers. He was dressed just like we were, but his shoulders and face were red and sunburned and his lily white feet were now whelping up from the bull nettle stings. Connie walked over and tried to help Ronnie pull out the stickers, but after we started giggling and whispering he stood up and shoed her away.
“You know something?” said Connie. Dang, she was really hot. She shook her finger at us. “One of these days y’all are gonna get yourselves in a bunch of trouble. And you know why?”
“Naw, you tell us, Miss Smarty,” I said.
“Because y’all are the most stupid and ignorant boys I’ve ever known, and you’re both just trouble waiting to happen!”
Well, we both stuck out
our tongues at exactly the same time and that was so funny we just laughed our heads off. Connie kicked sand in our direction and walked away. We walked over to see how Ronnie was doing, and he was still whining about the bull nettle stings.
“Hey, Ronnie, you need to pee on any place where that bull nettle stung you. That’s the only way to make it stop hurting,” I said.
“Really?”
“You’re dang right. Just pee on your foot, and it’ll stop hurting immediately.”
“You’re sure?”
“Shoot, yes!” said John Clayton.
Well, Ronnie peed on both feet and his ankles, and I don’t know if it helped his bull nettle sting, but it was really funny watching one of our friends pee on his feet. Later that morning Doc ran Ronnie out of the newsstand because his feet smelled like pee.
I took it easy for the rest of the day reading and rereading my new Tarzan funny book. Heck, summer was going along just about like all my summers, but something was about to happen that would danged sure change that.
After supper that night, when Momma wasn't around, me and Daddy talked about the escaped prisoners for a long time, and by the time we finished talking I was as nervous as a long- tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Shoot, Daddy couldn't come up with any reason why them sorry men wouldn’t come up right into our back yard.
Well, Daddy saw that I was getting upset, and he began talking about Uncle Spencer who was fighting them sorry Japs, and by the time it was my bedtime, I had forgot about the escaped prisoners. However, just before I went to sleep, I remembered how mean that man the other prisoners called Sam looked, and then I started wondering what was going on and if they were still hiding down in the swamp— maybe our barn.
CHAPTER TEN
Danger
Well, a couple of more days passed since them prisoners had been seen, and everybody figured they was maybe in Canada or Mexico by now—but they wasn’t. Heck, no. I guess we all should’ve had enough sense to think they still might be roaming around in Flat Creek Swamp, and that would have danged sure kept me out of the swamp that Saturday morning.
Lyin' Like a Dog, The Yankee Doctor, The Danged Swamp! 3-Volume set Page 42
