Banjo Billy and the River Rat Kids
By Billie Atamer
Published by Raider Publishing International at Smash Words
Copyright 2011 by Billie Atamer
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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CHAPTER ONE
Jeremy P. Stone awoke to the sound of circus music filtering through his bedroom window.
“Fat chance I’ll get to go to the circus and take a ride on that Ferris Wheel,” he mumbled as be punched his fist into the pillow. Hot tears formed in the corners of his brown eyes, and his nose started to run. He rolled over on his stomach and punched the pillow again, this time with both fists.
Jeremy couldn’t ask his mother for money. She worked too hard already, taking in wash for the rich folks in the small Appalachian town of Waverly, but it paid for the food and rent on the rundown place they called home.
Times were tough in the early nineteen hundreds, and jobs were scarce. What few jobs there were went to the older boys who had bikes for paper routes or delivering groceries for Johnson’s Market.
Jeremy was thirteen years old with a thick crop of straight brown hair that fell across his forehead and covered his eyebrows. He was small for his age, but strong. His father had died a few days before Christmas when he was only ten. He missed his father but never spoke of him, because it made his mother cry.
“Hey, Jer,” someone yelled from outside. “What ya doing in there, layin’ an egg?”
Jeremy wiped his eyes and ran to the window. He saw his friend Ollie standing under the old elm tree.
“What’s going on, Ollie?”
“Are ye deaf, boy? Don’t you hear that circus music? The circus done come to town. Wanna go? And don’t tell me you ain’t got no money,” Ollie shouted as he shaded his eyes from the sun.
“I ain’t got…”
“I told you not to tell me you ain’t got no money,” Ollie shouted as he looked up into the sky and shook his head.
“I ain’t a-lyin’… I ain’t…”
“I told you not to tell me you ain’t got no money. Come on down here. I got a plan to take care of your money problem.” Ollie turned toward the dirt covered road to see if anyone was listening.
Jeremy dressed quickly and ran down the stairs, two steps at a time.
Ollie was a year older than Jeremy, tall, and blond, a blue-eyed Swede. That’s what the town’s people called him and the other members of his family. He always seemed to have money to spend, although his family was just as poor as Jeremy and his mother.
“Hey, Ollie, what’s up?” Jeremy yelled as he ran out into the yard.
“I know how you can get money to go to the circus and ride on that there Ferris Wheel everybody is talkin’ about,” he whispered. Ollie took Jeremy’s arm, led him to the end of the walk, and looked around to see if anyone was within hearing distance. “Listen real careful now. Jist before midnight tonight, I want you to slip out of your house and meet me under that old elm tree in your yard there. See that tree yonder?”
Jeremy nodded.
“And be real quiet; don’t want to wake nobody up. That clear? I’ll throw pebbles at the top window to let you know when I git here. Sleep with your clothes on, even your shoes. Don’t want to waste no time gettin’ dressed. Bye, Jer,” he hollered, looking back at the house. Just in case someone was listening, it would look like they were having a casual conversation. “See you around sometime.” Ollie turned and waved as he walked into town.
Jeremy stuffed his hands into his pockets as he watched Ollie disappear around the corner. Suddenly, his mouth dropped open. “Jeepers, what if he wants me to steal something? No way! Ain’t gonna do that, no sir-ree. Not gonna steal just to take a ride on a stupid ole Farris Wheel,” he said out loud. He wanted to run after Ollie and tell him the deal was off, but Jeremy was afraid Ollie might call him a big baby. Jeremy looked up into the sky. He wished he could talk to his dad, wished he hadn’t died… Everything had been better back then.
The rest of the day he spent helping his mother with the wash. He didn’t mind hanging clothes on the line, because it was in the back of the house and no one could see him. It was a sunny day, so he knew the clothes would dry fast and his mother would finish her work early.
After supper, Jeremy helped his mother with the dishes and went up stairs to his bedroom, still wondering what he was going to do about the secret meeting that night with Ollie. He climbed into bed with all his clothes on, even his shoes, just as Ollie told him.
The light from the gas street lamp gave the room a soft golden glow. It was so quiet that Jeremy could hear his heart beating. He closed his eyes and began to count… one… two… three… Just then, a sudden gust of wind blew his curtains into a billowing, twisting, frenzy, as if there were something in there trying to get out.
Jeremy pulled the covers over his head. “Oh, what am I’m gonna do? I don’t want Ollie to think I’m… I’m chicken. ”
The warmth of the covers he pulled over his head made him sleepy. “I… I cain’t go to sleep,” he whispered. “I cain’t go to…” and Jeremy drifted quietly into a deep sleep.
Ping… Ping… Ping.
“Ollie… It’s Ollie.” Jeremy threw back the covers and ran to the window. There stood Ollie in the shadows of the old elm tree. When he saw Jeremy at the window, he waved for him to come down.
Jeremy had left the door slightly ajar so that it would be easier to open. He slipped through the doorway into the dark hall that led to the stairs. He stepped on the first stair; it squeaked softly. He skipped the second stair, because he knew that it had the loudest squeak.
Home free, he thought to himself. The rest would be easy. He ran out into the dark, still night.
* * *
“You ain’t gonna make me steal something air you, Ollie, ’cause I just couldn’t do it— circus or no circus,” Jeremy whispered to Ollie.
“Air you crazy? Why would I want you to steal something?”
“Well… how can we make money at midnight except we…?”
“Listen, Jer, you’re my best friend, and I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. I’m gonna show you how you can make some money. Come on now, no more talking.” Ollie took him by the hand and led him to the end of Pine Street and into the woods.
Jeremy had never been to the backwoods at night. The trees had lost their leaves, and their branches looked like long black whips whisking through the sky in search of something to attack. Even the bushes seemed to reach out and pull at his clothes, as if trying to hold him back from something dangerous.
There was a chill in the air, and the wind kicked up again.
“How much further?” Jeremy asked as he pulled a tangled branch from his pants.
“Jist a little ways.”
“Where we goin’, Ollie?”
“Down to the river.”
“What’s down there?”
“Not what… Who. Banjo Billy: that’s who we’ll be working fer tonight,” he said as he jumped over a log that had fallen over the pathway.
“What’re we goin’ be doing for Banjo Billy?” Jeremy caught up with Ollie and walked alongside him
“We’re goin’ catch river rats.”
“River rats? I’m scared of rats. I… I’m goin’ home.” Jeremy turned and started to run. Ollie ran after him, tackled him to the ground, and sat on his chest.
“Ya can’t go now; you know my secret… There were only two of us, but now with you, it makes three. You can’t go; you know my secret!”
Jeremy covered his eyes. “What does he do with them… eat ’em?” He thought he was going to be sick.
“Heck no. He makes banjos out of ’em. Skins ’em critters right down their bellies and stretches ’em from limb to limb. That’s how they make the part that they strum. I didn’t know that until Banjo Billy told me.” Ollie stood, held out his hand, and pulled Jeremy to his feet. “Come on, it’s right up ahead.”
Through the trees, Jeremy could see an old lean-to cabin. He’d seen it from the river many times but didn’t know that anyone lived in the dilapidated old place.
“Who goes there?” a deep voice shot out from the still night.
A thick, strong arm encircled Jeremy’s neck. He clawed at the hairy arm, trying to pull it away from his throat. Jeremy gasped for air.
“Banjo Billy… it’s me… me and my friend Jeremy,” Ollie screamed. “Let him go.” Ollie demanded. “We’ve come to work for ya.”
“Ollie my boy, you didn’t tell me you was bringin’ a friend.” Banjo Billy whirled Jeremy around and looked him square in the eyes. “You sure he can do the job?” He looked quickly at Ollie, then back at Jeremy. “He looks awfully puny. He ain’t much bigger than them river rats…”
Banjo Billy was a tall, thin man with thick, gray hair pulled back into a long braid that fell halfway down his back. He wore faded Levi’s, a red felt vest that had banjos embroidered down each side, and cowboy boots with long pointed toes. His eyes were as black as the ace of spades, and they seemed to sparkle in the darkness.
“He’s small, but boy is he strong. Stronger than me,” Ollie lied.
“You strong enough to be a river rat kid, Jeremy?” Banjo Billy stooped down to eye-level and looked into Jeremy’s eyes.
“Yep, I can do the job all right.” Jeremy’s voice quivered a little as he spoke.
“You sure?”
“Real sure.” Jeremy stared right back into Banjo Billy’s eyes without blinking.
“All right, I’ll go git the gunny sacks.”
Banjo Billy walked to the lean-to and opened the door. A soft light appeared through the darkness.
Jeremy sneaked closer to the lean-to and looked inside. There was a cot with an Indian blanket covering the bed, a small camp stove, and several pots hanging on the side of the wall. Dishes were stacked on the side of a worn wooden table with a single handmade chair. He could see dozens of rat skins stretched onto wooden planks neatly stacked in several rows. He watched as Banjo Billy gathered up sacks with long strings hanging from the tops and some short, thick sticks. Then, he came out into the dark night.
“You’ll get twenty–five cents fer each river rat. Got yer bait?” Banjo Billy asked.
Ollie nodded.
Banjo Billy handed the gunny sacks to Ollie and the sticks to Jeremy. “See you when the sacks are full. Ain’t gonna have no trouble on a night like this. ”
Banjo Billy turned and left the two boys standing there as he went back into the lean-to and turned out the light.
“What happens if we cain’t get no river rats?” Jeremy asked.
“Don’t worry ’bout that; there’s hundreds down at the river,” Ollie said as he whipped the sacks over his shoulder and headed for the river.
Jeremy took the sticks and walked slowly behind Ollie. Oh, yes, I’m in way over my head now.
Ollie placed one of the burlap gunny sacks along the river’s edge and put a stick inside to hold it open. He threw a big chunk of cheese into the sack; then, they hid behind a clump of bushes.
Within minutes, they heard a rustling sound. Then… WHAM… the sack collapsed.
Ollie ran to the sack, tied the jumping, wiggly river rat into the sack, and took it to the bush hideout, where they waited for the next one.
“Your turn next, Jeremy,” Ollie said.
“I can’t do it… I’ll take the next one. I can’t run as fast as you, and the rat might get out and bite me.”
“Want to lose your twenty-five cents? Don’t make no difference to me. I’ll take all the money.” Ollie stuck out his chin. “Big, fat baby.”
Jeremy knew when he was being baited. “I’ll take the next one,” he said.
It seemed like a lifetime until the next gunny sack collapsed.
“Get it, Jer. Hurry… Don’t let it get away.”
Jeremy ran to the sack. His heart was beating fast. He jerked the stick, grabbed the long string, and tied it quickly around the top. The river rat was a big one; he could tell as he held up the sack for Ollie to see.
“Good job, Jer.” Ollie was laughing.
The night passed quickly. Ollie and Jeremy caught six river rats and returned to the lean-to.
Banjo Billy was waiting for them. “Good night for river rattin’; moon’s real bright; brings ’em right out. How many did you git?” he asked.
“Got six big ones, Banjo Billy,” Ollie said as he held up his three. Jeremy had to drag his, because they were so heavy. Both of the boys had smiles on their faces. They brought the sacks to the door and left them.
“Well… let me see… Six times twenty-five cents is… one dollar and fifty cents. That right, boys? That makes seventy-five cents apiece.” Banjo Billy took out a small black leather purse with turquoise beads stitched across the center from his vest pocket. Six shiny quarters fell into his hand.
“Hold out your hand, Ollie my boy,” he said as he handed him the money.
“And now for my smallest little river rat kid. Come here, Jeremy Boy.” Jeremy moved closer, but stayed far enough away so that, if he decided to get him by the neck again, he could get out of his reach.
“You did real good for a first time… so, for a little ree-ward, you get another quarter.” Banjo Billy reached into his vest pocket and pulled out another quarter.
Jeremy never had so much money in his life! One whole dollar! One hundred pennies! He stared into his hand. He looked up into the face of his new friend. “Thanks, Banjo Billy. Nice working fer you.”
“Come on, Jer, the sun will be up any minute now. We got to get home so no one will suspect nothing. Thanks, Banjo Billy. See you next week,” Ollie shouted.
The two boys hurried through the backwoods, their money still clutched in their hands, thinking about the great time they would have at the circus.
When they reached Pine Street, Jeremy waved goodbye to Ollie and ran to his house.
Jeremy quietly opened the door and took off his shoes, hoping he wouldn’t awaken his mother. He looked into her bedroom. She was still asleep. He smiled as he thought of the material he would buy for a new dress to surprise his mother. Maybe there would even be enough money left over for the circus and a ride on the Ferris Wheel.
Jeremy took off his clothes and crept into bed. He closed his eyes and smiled. “It ain’t so bad being a river rat kid,” he whispered to himself.
At last he had a job and a new friend. Now all he needed was a good night’s sleep.
CHAPTER TWO
Ole Black Foot
The next morning, Jeremy awoke with the sun. He could hardly wait to go to the circus; then, he remembered it was Sunday. Church day! Maybe he could talk his mother into going to the circus instead.
“Oh yeah, like that’s gonna happen,” he whispered to himself.
Jeremy went to the dresser, opened the top drawer, and slipped out the red woolen sock that was now too small for him. He turned it upside down and watched the coins he earned from Banjo Billy drop into his hand. He counted them over and over. Then, slipped the coins back into the sock, closed the dresser drawer, and began getting ready for Church.
He washed his face and hands in the blue and white porcelain bowl on the bedside table, brushed his teeth, got dressed, combed his hair, and smiled into the small gold-framed mirror. Then, he ran down the stairs— avoiding the second step that always squeaked— and into the warm kitchen.
Mother, still in her robe and slippers, sat at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea. “Jeremy, we won’t be going to Church today. Black Foot, that ole grizzly bear, was seen last night at the edge of the woods,” Mother said.
Jeremy’s eyes widen. “The woods?”
“Yes, a posse formed early this morning. Mrs. James came over an hour or so ago to let us know. We must keep all windows closed and the doors locked. I didn’t want to awaken you; you were sleeping so soundly.” His mother paused. Her hands trembled as she lifted the cup to her lips. “I’m afraid, Jeremy, afraid for both of us. Last year Ole Black Foot killed Mr. Gilbert’s dog. What if he…?”
“I’ll join the posse; I’m not afraid of that stupid old bear,” Jeremy said, as he slammed the table with his fist.
“You’ll do no such thing!” His mother’s shrill voice shot through the room like a bullet. “That’s a job for the men.”
“Ma, I’m thirteen. I am a man.”
Jeremy’s mother looked into his boyish face with a worried smile. “We’ll talk about this later. Will you check the doors and windows, please? I’ll fix breakfast.”
Ollie and I were in the woods last night— same time as Ole Black Foot. We’re lucky to be alive. I’ve gotta tell Ollie… but I know Ma won’t let me out of her sight, he thought.
“Hey, Jer,” Ollie shouted as he knocked on the kitchen window. “Got some important news.”
Jeremy ran to the back door and let Ollie in. “Good mornin’, Mrs. Stone,” he said as he politely removed his hat and smoothed his hair. “Have you heard the news? Ole Black Foot’s on the prowl again. I guess he wants to fill his belly before he hibernates for the winter.” Ollie nervously stood on one foot, then the other.
“Yes, we’ve heard,” Jeremy’s mother said. “I’ll get dressed and fix breakfast.” She placed her tea cup in the sink and hurried up the stairs.
“What happened to the circus?” Jeremy asked. “I don’t hear no music.”
“Hightailed it out of here, band and all, when they heard Ole Black Foot was on the loose again. No use gittin’ the circus people killed. Jer, do you have a gun?” Ollie whispered.
“Air you kiddin’? Where would I be gittin’ a gun?” Jeremy whispered back. He looked over his shoulder to see if his mother was out of earshot.
“Wonder if Ole Black Foot comes banging at your door… what air you gonna do, spit in his eye?” Ollie threw his hat on the kitchen table. “You need a gun now that your pa’s gone. Dang it, you need to protect your ma and yourself.”
Jeremy sat down at the kitchen table and laid his chin on his folded arms. Suddenly, his head popped up. He looked Ollie straight in the eyes. “You gottta gun?” he asked.
“Gotta Winchester 57 for Christmas last year. My pa showed me how to load it and how to shoot straight, jist in case something happened while he weren’t home.”
“Where’d he buy it?” Jeremy whispered.
“Sears catalogue. They got pages and pages of guns, all kinds. Some as cheap as three bucks. Mine cost $3.50. Course, you’ll need bullets, too, but they ain’t much,” Ollie spoke in a hushed voice.
Jeremy’s eyes lit up. “We got a Sears catalogue. Ma buys her material from that book. Let’s go to the parlor. It’s in the magazine rack.” Both boys jumped up and started for the parlor.
“Wait a minute,” Jeremy whispered. “What’ll we do if Ma finds us lookin’ at the page of guns?”
“We’ll close the book real quick,” Ollie whispered.
“We gotta think up a better story than that. My ma can smell a lie a mile way.” Jeremy scratched his head as he and Ollie slowly walked back to the kitchen table and sat down.
“Don’t worry; I’ll think of somethin’,” Ollie whispered.
* * *
While Jeremy’s mother prepared breakfast, the boys told stories of how Ole Black Foot had broken into several wash houses and barns looking for food. But, the saddest story of all was how he killed Mrs. Gilbert’s dog… and right before her eyes.
“Now he’s on the loose again. No telling what he’s up to,” Ollie said between bites of eggs and Johnny cakes with strawberry jam. “That bear’s favorite meal is fresh corn. He eats the husks and all.” Ollie finished his milk and beamed at Mrs. Stone with his milk mustache.
“Thank you, ma’am. Everything was jist the best. Did you make that jam yourself?” Ollie asked, looking as if he were really interested.
Jeremy gave Ollie a swift kick under the table. Why does he always drag things on and on?
“Yes, I gave your mother a jar of my strawberry jam last year for Christmas,” she said, smiling down at Ollie’s clean plate and milk mustache.
“It’s about the best I ever et. You sure air a good cook,” Ollie said, shaking his head and licking his lips.
Jeremy wondered why grown-ups fell for Johnny’s sweet talk.
“ ‘Ate’, Ollie, not ‘et’. That’s proper English. Doesn’t your teacher correct your English?” Mandy Stone asked.
“Mrs. Blackburn’s real old, but she’s a real nice lady.” Ollie smiled, then changed the subject.
“Ma’am, do you mind if a take a look in your Sears catalogue? I’ll be needin’ some new galoshes this year. Mine air too small. I’m givin’ em to my poor cousin.” Ollie flashed an angelic smile.
“Of course. How thoughtful of you. Jeremy, show Ollie where we keep the Sears catalogue. If you need any help, I’d be happy assist you,” she said as she cleared the table.
“Can I help with the dishes, ma’am?” Ollie asked and flashed that angelic smile again.
Jeremy rolled his eyes.
“Thank you, but no. This will take only a few minutes. You two go into the parlor and see about those galoshes.”
Jeremy pushed Ollie through the door before he had a chance to start another conversation. Galoshes? How does he come up with this stuff, he wondered.
“Galoshes? What was that all about?” Jeremy whispered out of ear shot of his mother.
“It’s the only thing I could think of. We needed to find a way to git in here and take a look at them guns.”
Jeremy took the catalog from the magazine rack, and both boys sat down on the sofa.
“Open it up to the gun section,” Ollie said. “It’s in the middle of the book.” He reached across Jeremy and started thumbing through the pages.
“Lookie, lookie here,” Ollie said, pointing to page eighty-two. “Women’s underwear. Hee, hee, hee,” he giggled.
“We’re looking for guns; remember?” Jeremy flipped the pages again. “Look: material. I need to buy some material for Ma’s Christmas dress. Let’s see… twelve cents a yard, and here’s some for twenty five…”
“I thought we were looking for guns. Keep turning the pages. It must be here somewhere.” Finally, they came to the gun section.
GUN SECTION – BEST GUNS SEARS HAS TO OFFER.
“Wow! Look at ’em all. Hundreds of ‘em,” Jeremy said in a hushed voice. “What kinda gun did you get?” But before Ollie had a chance to answer, Jeremy said loudly, “Look at this ’in. It’s only $1.69,” Jeremy pointed to a Daisy Air Rifle.
“You ain’t gonna kill Ole Black Foot with that gun. It’s for little boys that cain’t shoot straight… And keep yer voice down.”
The guns ranged from $1.69 to as much as $100.00. The more pages they turned, the more depressed Jeremy became. He wondered how he could come up with enough money to buy a gun and bullets, plus thirty-seven cents postage. He’d have to catch a lot of rats for Banjo Billy, that is, if Banjo needed more rats for the banjos.
“Do you think we can work for Banjo any time soon?” Jeremy asked. “I’ve only got one dollar, and I’ll need bullets and postage. I’ll be needin’ at least four dollars. That’s a lot of rats at twenty-five cents, and that’s the cheapest rifle at two-ninety nine. Golly gee, I ain’t never gonna git that kinda money.”
“Well, there’s only one way to find out. Let’s go ask Banjo Billy if he has any more work fer us. Maybe he has a friend needin’ work done.”
Jeremy closed the catalogue and put it back in the magazine rack. “Ma,” he called, “I need to help Ollie with his arithmetic. We have a big test tomorrow, and Ollie’s afraid he’ll flunk if he don’t git help.”
Mother came into the parlor, wiping her hands on her apron. “But what about Ole Black Foot?”
“My house is only a skip and a hop away, and the posse’s out huntin’ him now. And I know for a fact that Ole grizzly only comes out at night,” Ollie said pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. “I really need help with my ’rithmetic lesson. I don’t wanna flunk. I’ll get a beatin’ from my pa if I do,” he said, wiping more pretend tears from his eyes.
“Well… I don’t know…”
“We’ll run all the way,” Ollie wiped his nose on his coat sleeve.
“You can see us most all the way if you watch from the porch,” Jeremy pleaded.
Jeremy’s mother looked at Ollie’s sad face. She didn’t want him to get a beating from his father. “Do you promise to have Mr. Peterson bring you home when he returns?” she asked her son.
“That’s a deal you can count on,” Ollie said, using that angelic smile that always hooked the grown-ups.
“Well… I guess it won’t hurt, as long as I can see you all the way.” Jeremy’s mother walked to the front door, then turned as if she had changed her mind. “Ollie’s father must bring you into the house so I can thank him properly.”
“Pa’ll make sure Jeremy gits home safe. I’ll come with ’em,” Ollie added, as if his promise assured a safe return.
“I guess that’ll be all right. But, be sure to be home long before dark. I don’t want you out after dark when Black Foot will be on the prowl again.”
The boys raised their hands in a pledge of obedience. “I promise,” they answered in unison. Jeremy held his left hand behind his back and crossed his fingers. He wondered if God would strike him dead for making a promise he knew he wouldn’t keep.
“Do you mind if I take the catalogue with me?” Ollie asked, “I’ll be needin’ to order those galoshes before the snow starts.”
“Of course. I won’t need it for a week or so. Mrs. Young’s daughter will be getting married this spring, and I’ll be making her wedding dress. I’m looking forward to that,” Mrs. Stone smiled.
“My ma says you’re the best sewer in town,” Mr. Angelic Smile said.
“That’s nice to hear. Here’s the catalogue,” Mandy said as she handed Ollie the Sears book. “Now you boys run along now. Get your lessons done as quickly as you can, and tell your mother I send my best greetings.” Mrs. Stone accompanied them onto the porch and watched as they ran down the dusty road.
Ollie never mentioned that his mother wasn’t home.
CHAPTER THREE
The Plan
“How air we gonna git to Banjo’s with Ole Black Foot on the loose?” Jeremy asked as he and Ollie ran down the road together.
“I’ve got it all figured out. I can think and talk at the same time. Ma says I got that little gift from my Grandpa Ellis.” Ollie was huffing and talking in spurts. “All the while I was talking to yer ma, I was thinkin’ out a plan.”
“Well, it better be a good one. My ma’s pretty smart when it comes to lyin’. She’s probably better than your grandpa. She can smell a lie ten miles away.” Jeremy turned around and saw his mother waving her hand. He waved back and continued to run.
“I guess I’m better’n the whole town. How come your ma didn’t smell my lie? I was standing right next to her. I guess I’m better’n almost ever’body in the whole world,” Ollie bragged.
Jeremy’s side began to hurt, and he was tired of listening to his bragging genius friend. “Ma can’t see us anymore. Let’s slow down. My side hurts.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. We’ll need all the strength we can muster up to git to Banjo’s and back before sundown. Now here’s my plan…”
As Jeremy listened to the plan, he wondered how someone so smart couldn’t learn the multiplication tables. Ollie would rather fish than go to school. Maybe he was smart enough already, Jeremy thought.
When they arrived at Ollie’s house, both boys— out of breath— collapsed on the living room sofa. After catching his breath, Ollie went to the closet and took out an old ragged quilt. Wrapped in the quilt was a shiny, well-oiled Winchester 57 rifle. “We got a real good break…” Ollie continued. “Ma’s visiting her sister, who just had a baby. I’ve got my Winchester, so we’ll be safe from Old Black Foot. And don’t worry; I know how to shoot real good. If that stupid grizzly gets within a half-mile of me, I’ll kill him dead,” Ollie said as he loaded the gun and shoved extra bullets into his pocket.
“What about your pa? What if he comes home and finds us gone?”
“I don’t know if they’re even back yet from huntin’ down Old Black Foot. If the posse’s back, they’ll all be at the Dancin’ Donkey Saloon. Pa’ll be there with his friends for sassafras tea. He don’t drink the hard stuff; tells me it can kill ya, and I believe him. The men talk for hours on end. Don’t need to worry about my pa. He’s almost as good at telling stories as Grandpa Ellis and me.” Ollie flung the gun over his shoulder and opened the back door, looked both ways, then said, “Come on.”
They took a short cut through the back yard so that no one would see them. The leaves that clung to the tree branches were withered and dried. Fall had passed and soon the cold mornings would last all day. But, now the warm sun glistened through the trees and onto the faded leaves that had fallen to the ground. Jeremy remembered his mother calling the fall leaves “jewels of the forest”. He heard the dried leaves crunch into dust under his boots. It would make a thick ground cover for the cold winter ahead.
The trip to Banjo’s seemed quick. Jeremy walked ten paces behind his friend, just in case the gun went off accidentally.
When the boys arrived, Banjo Billy was nowhere in sight. “Wonder where he is? Lordy, lordy, you don’t think Ole Black Foot got ’em; do you, Ollie?” Jeremy took his hat off and put it over his heart. Then, he went to the window and looked in. “Lordy, lordy, I think he’s dead! Come look! He’s dead in bed. Now what air we gonna do with a dead Indian on our hands?”
Suddenly, Banjo Billy bolted upright and yelled, “Who goes there?”
Both boys, scared out of their wits, jumped back from the window. “It’s us Banjo… me and my friend Jeremy,” Ollie hollered back, shaking from fright.
“Well, why air you hidin’ fer? Come in here. I gotta talk to you two,” Banjo replied.
Ollie propped his gun against the lean-to door frame, and both boys slowly opened the creaky door. Ollie walked in first, taking careful steps. Jeremy inched in behind him, just in case Banjo was in a bad mood.
“Come over here boys. We need to have little talk. I have a job fer ya.” He turned back the covers and the boys gasped at what they saw.
Banjo’s right leg was wrapped in blood soaked rags. Dried blood was caked over the middle section of his leg. He lifted the wounded leg over the side of the bed with a painful expression, followed it with the left leg, and sat up.
“What happened to ya?” The boys asked in unison, unable to keep their eyes off the bloody leg.
“Fell off the cliff down at Cougar Dam. Dern near killed myself. Did a job on my leg— gash about fourteen, fifteen inches long— but it’s healin’ pretty good now. The ginger root’s got the swelling down, and I’ve made some Gooter tea. Good fer healing cuts and stuff. I’ll be comin’ along good as new in no time at all,” he said, trying to smile through the pain.
“You need a doctor. Want us to fetch ole Doc Young?” Jeremy asked.
Banjo frowned. “What fer? I’m healing fine. Just need to keep off my leg for a week or so. That’s where you two comes in.” Banjo smoothed his hair and hobbled to the straight back chair and dropped down. “My friend Weasel Mitchel needs them rat skins yonder,” he said pointing to the skins in the corner. “The boat that he loads them on comes in next Sunday, and I won’t be able to git there, what with my leg an’ all. He’s expecting them to be delivered on Saturday.
“That’s where you two comes in. You’ll have to take ’em to Weasel. I ain’t goin’ nowhere fer the next few weeks. You take Mulie with you. She can carry the load, and Ollie can run shotgun ’cause of Ole Black Foot. Yeah, I know all ’bout him. Stupid grizzly’s scared of his own shadow. If he comes around, jist throw a stick at him. He’ll run like a scared jack rabbit,” Banjo chuckled. “Don’t have to be ’fraid of that one.
“I’ll give each of you fifty cents fer the job. Is it a deal?” Banjo asked through squinted eyes.
“Who’s Mulie?” Jeremy whispered.
“Banjo’s mule,” Ollie explained. “He keeps him in a stable a few minutes from here. I went with Banjo last time he took the rat skins to Weasel. I went along jist for the fun of it then, but now it looks like we’ll be in charge.” Ollie slapped his hat back on his head and said, “We sure can do that fer ya, Banjo.”
“Ollie, jist wait a… How far is it, and how long will it take?” Jeremy was annoyed at Ollie. As usual, he never thought of consulting Jeremy, and Jeremy wondered how on earth he’d be able to be gone from home next Saturday without causing his mother to worry.
“I know the way. It ain’t far.” His friend stood on one foot, then the other. Jeremy wondered if he needed to go to the outhouse before they started for home.
“It’s jist beyond Frog Creek” Banjo said. “It’ll take ’bout two hours each ways. Stay on the river trail. Mulie knows the way. But keep the harness around her head and lead her. She gets stubborn sometimes— stupid ole mule— so let her see you’re carrying a big stick. Weasel lives in a cabin about a-eighth of a mile down Frog Creek. Cain’t miss it. It sits on top of a knoll. Look for the silver tin roof. It’ll be shinin’ from the time you reach the creek. Ain’t gonna miss that!”
Banjo cleared his throat, shifted his bad leg to one side, grimaced, then continued. “When you git to the cabin, knock three times, wait a second or so, then knock two times. That’s our secret code. No one knows this but the two of us. Tell him I’m down on my leg and your working fer me. I told him that once before. He’ll see ole Mulie and know your tellin’ the truth. He’ll come out and count the skins. You count ’em with him; he ain’t called Weasel for nothin’. When ya come on Saturday, I’ll give you a paper that tells you how much money he’ll give you. Count it out…”
Jeremy looked down at his dusty boots. He’d lost interest in the long detailed plan. How was he going to make a four hour trip without his mother suspecting something was up? And what about Ole Black Foot? Maybe Banjo told them that story about the grizzly being afraid of his own shadow just to get the skins to Weasel. Then, he thought about the gun. Yeah, he really did need a gun to protect his ma, and he knew he had to take a chance.
“Come on, Jer, we need to git home. See you next Saturday Banjo. Do you need us to bring you anything?”
“No, thanks. All I need’s rest. I have plenty roots stored in the ground, and I can get around well enough to make my healing tea. You boys run along now; I’ll see you on Saturday.”
As soon as they were out of ear shot of the lean-to, Jeremy said, “How the heck air we gonna do this? You know my ma can smell a…”
“I know… I know. Now, let me think for a few minutes,” Ollie interrupted. “Let me see… You want a gun but ain’t got no money… Banjo has the money fer a job he needs done. Your ma can smell a lie ten miles away. There has to be a way. Jist hush up and let me think.” He picked up the rifle, flung it over his shoulder, and they walked into the woods toward home.
Both boys grew silent. Ollie wondered how they could deliver the skins and get home before dark. But, Jeremy was thinking out a plan of his own.
CHAPTER FOUR
Black Foot’s Last Stand
By the time the boys arrived back in town, they heard shouts and singing.
“Looks like the whole town’s come to Main Street. Wonder what’s up,” Ollie said with a puzzled look.
“Hey, what’s goin’ on?” Ollie asked a young boy standing at the edge of the street with his hands stuffed into his over-sized pants pockets.
“They shoot Ole Black Foot. Killed him dead.” The boy looked like he was going to cry. “Why’d they have to kill ’em? Why couldn’t they have jist put him in a cage or somethin’?”