CHAPTER FIVE
Big Barney and I got to be inseparable buddies from that day on. He got to laughing like a mad man when I told him how I happened to be in Chicago at that cathouse, and was my face a pretty shade of purple when he told me what cathouses really were. I never was that stupid about anything since. I can sure tell you that.
Anyway, big Barney knew all about the wolf bellerin' at times, because he confessed to me that he had heard the wolf often enough himself. He didn't have any kin left either, so the both of us just made it up like we were a regular family. From then on, we just traveled from one place to another living high off the hog like a couple of rich people having plenty of fun.
My optimism was in the best possible shape in those days. Nothing went wrong for a long time. If my optimism was running lucky, so was my shooting hand with the dice. It seemed like the only thing I could do with the "rattle babies" was throw sevens and elevens.
We'd get into a city and big Barney would find a joint someplace where a game was going. Then we'd wait until a payday night when a crowd was around and on in and pick up a bundle.
I never once worried about any smart guys getting rough with us, because big Barney just wouldn't mess with them. Heck, I saw him take on two or three fellows at one time several occasions. He'd plant them in bye-bye land so quick that he wouldn't even get to breathing hard.
Big barney sure liked to live, I'll say that for him. But one thing that always worried me about him was the way he'd spend money. He could blow it so fast you hardly knew you had it. It just seemed like one bankroll per tow was the way it had to be. I'd put most of my earnings in a suitcase and leave it there, because Barney insisted on doing all the buying. I tried to tell him lots of times that we weren't broke, but he'd get mad and claim we were, and I wouldn't have the heart to try to out-talk him.
He'd say, "Hank, money is for spending. You just set back enough to get us in a game now and then, and I'll worry about the rest. If that magic hand of yours keeps on working, we'll never be chased by the wolf again."
And he was right, because my hand just kept working and working. But one time my habit of putting my money in a suitcase got us into more trouble than a guy could dream possible.
It was about October 1948 up in New Hampshire. We'd been up in that country most of the summer. We'd stayed longer in one spot than most, because big Barney was in love with a girl there. He claimed he wasn't, but I knew he was, because when she ran off and got married to another man, he just fell to pieces. We just about got snowed in for the winter, because of it, and I guess we would have, if I hadn't pulled another duncy boner.
After Barney's girl had run off, he said he was going to park there forever and wait for her to come back. We rented us a little shack on the edge of Pittsfield -- that's the town we were in -- and went to housekeeping like a couple of bachelors with no maid service.
Thinking back about it all now, I think I really enjoyed it there more than any place Barney and I had ever been. Living out was a real vacation for me. There was plenty of hunting and fishing and fun things to do. Sitting here like I am now, I can still remember walking through the woods there, hour after hour, watching the pretty leaves come swirling down off the trees, like a shower of fairyland creatures, brilliant in all their pungent beauty, dying before their day. It was something to remember, that patch of woods in Pittsfield. Then, too, I was only a couple of miles away from the ocean, and I'd go to the beach sometimes and sit all day ling to watch the sailboats on the sea, and get chilly up and down my spine when the golden sunsets curled red across the white-topped waves. It was beautiful. I kind of wish I could go back to Pittsfield now and see those things again, but I know I never will.
Anyway, big Barney was so much in love that he forgot about living expenses, so I just naturally figured it was time to bite into the resources in my suitcase. We got to running short of supplies, so I pulled a few bucks out of the poke and went into town to get some refreshers. No sooner --
"Dad, Hey, dad!"
"Don't slam to door so hard, Marty. You might break the glass."
You'll have to excuse the interruption for a minute. You know how it is with kids when they have an emergency.
"Harry and John won't let me shovel snow with them, dad."
"Why not, Marty?"
"'Cause I ate supper over at Mike's house."
"That's why you're so late getting home, huh?"
"Sure, dad. It was good too... Hi, Laurie. How come yer not out playing in the snow?"
"Because grandma fell off the roof, silly."
"Laurie! That's not the right expression. If you can't understand that book, ask Alice to tell you how to discuss your problem."
"All right, daddy."
"Can I go help Harry and John, dad? Just a little bit maybe?"
"Why wouldn't they let you help them, Marty?"
"'Cause they said they were almost done getting bread and boloney for supper, and I wasn't titled to none, 'cause I already et! Hi Alice."
"Marty! you get right out of those wet clothes this instant!"
"That's right, Marty. You had better do as Alice says. You're built too close to the ground to be shoveling snow anyway."
"Oh. All right."
Alice is just like a mother to Marty. She's taken care of him the biggest part of his life anyway. I guess over the years she has pinned more diapers on him than I have.
"Dad --"
"Yes, Wonderland."
"Hey! Goodie-goodie! Here comes Harry and John, Alice! And they've got a great big grocery sack with them."
"Laurie, you had better not be up to your usual tricks. If you're kidding --"
"I'm not, Alice. Honest I'm not. And boy! Is John all wet and frozen. He looks like he's been rolling in snow."
Excuse me for whispering again. Laurie likes to play act a lot. She gets to reading a book, and then she'll look out the window or go to the door and make the other kids think it's all going on for real outside. She's pretty good at it, too. She's fooled them often enough. Me too, as a matter-of-fact.
"Hey, dad! We got some bread and boloney."
"See, Harry, I knew you could do it."
"Yeah, pop! We sure did! And we earned enough to get some other things, too."
"Like what, John?"
"Oh, other stuff."
I better explain right now that John's got a sweet tooth. You can just about bet that every time he gets some money he'll find some way to squeeze in a little candy. But he's not selfish. He always gets enough to split even-steven with his brothers and sisters.
"What kind of stuff, John?"
"Oh, just something for dessert, pop."
"Like what, John?"
"A bag of candy, pop. But it ain't a big bag. I didn't do wrong did I, pop?" I mean there's enough to go around. You aren't mad, are you, pop? You always said the wolf won't eat candy."
"No, John, I'm not mad. I imagine a little candy for dessert never hurt anyone."
"Gee, pop. You're the greatest dad in the world."
"Thanks, John. But I --"
"Hey! Where's the TV set?"
"It's gone, Marty."
"Gone? Gone! Where'd it go to? It ain't broke down or nothing, is it?"
"No, son, it didn't break down. The furniture company came and got it and most of the other furniture today. There just wasn't any way to keep them from taking the TV set. I'm sure sorry about it."
"How come? They had no call to do that, pop."
"I'm afraid they did, John. We were just too far behind on our payments."
"Why those dirty-ernies --"
"No swearing, young man."
"But, dad --"
"Yes, Marty."
"What are we going to do for entertainment, now?"
"I guess you'll just have to read a book. Yes, that's it. Why not read a story and put on a play like you used to do."
"Aw...That's no fun unless there's somebody to watch it."
"Marty! You stop talking like that. It's not very kind of you at all."
"That's alright Alice. I'm sure Marty didn't realize what he was saying. Did you, Marty?"
"No, dad. I'm sorry."
"Humph! Little boys just don't know nothing about life, that's all."
"Haw! How would you know prissy pants."
"Laurie! John! Let's not have any of your squabbles this evening."
"Yes, dad."
"Okay, pop."
" Yeah, Miss Owens don't like arguments."
"That's enough out of you, too, Marty."
"Aw..."
"Say, dad, John and me did pretty good shoveling snow."
"Of course you did, Harry."
"I mean, besides the bread and baloney, dad, we made better than six bucks. I hope it snows for a week."
"Well, I hope you saved some back for a rainy day."
"Nope. Sent it all. We bought some bacon and eggs for breakfast, and we got a great big grapefruit for you dad. Seeing as how you haven't had any lately, we figured you'd like a little dessert, too."
"Harry, you shouldn't have done that. Nobody is entitled to special privileges around here.
"It's not a special privilege, dad. We had seventeen cents left over, and we saw this great big grapefruit and knew how much you like them. Besides, you never eat our candy, and you have to have dessert once in awhile too."
I guess maybe Harry ought to be a lawyer when he grows up. He sure knows how to beat the spider out of the bush to get around a problem.
"Oh...I see what you mean, Harry."
"You do?"
"That's just a figure of speech, Harry. Why don't you see if you can give Alice a hand in the kitchen."
"Okay, dad."
"And thanks for the grapefruit, son."
"Sure."
"Say, dad -- "
"Yes, Wonderland."
What am I going to feed the kids on, since the furniture company took our table and chairs?"
"I guess they'll have to stand around the cabinet by the sink."
"But Marty can't reach that far."
"Marty said he ate at Mike's house. He probably won't want anything except the dessert, and I think he can reach that well enough."
"Harry and John said that they got a couple of cans of soup. I think Marty ought to have some. It's pretty cold outside, and he just can't live on candy."
"Well, see what you can do, Wonderland. Maybe you can find a box for him to stand on."
"Are you going to eat with us?"
"No. It'll be crowed enough in the kitchen as it is. You kids just go on and eat. Besides, I'm not much hungry this evening."
"Yes, you are! And you know it. I'll bring you some hot soup and a sandwich. How do you want your grapefruit fixed?"
"Just save that for tomorrow, Wonderland. Soup's plenty for today."
"Okay, dad. Coming right up in a jiffy."
Alice is sure going to make a fine woman for some man some day. She's a lot like her mother, the way she fusses and worries over the kids and everybody. I guess a man would have to go pretty far to find a daughter as good as her.
------
Now, let's see, where was I? Oh, yes. Pittsfield and the suitcase money.
I hiked all the way into Pittsfield that day to a grocery store, figuring to get a box or two of stuff to hold us together until big barney got done licking his love wound. But having been a cook in the army had kind of got my eyes trained to fill more bellies than Barney and I owned. Heck, I guess I tried to buy enough supplies to feed a platoon.
Anyway, somewhere between the flour, bacon, sugar, and jellybeans, this old geezer at the store gets to nosing into my business affairs something terrible.
"Figurin' on laying up for the winter?" he says, wiggling his mouth at me over his bifocals.
"Nope." I said. "Just a week or two until my buddy gets over his wound."
"Hurt pretty bad?" the old geezer says, wrinkling his eyes up tight.
"Worse than anytime I've ever seen him. But he'll get over it."
"Where you staying?" the old geezer says, tamping down a sack of navy beans on his greasy counter.
"Couple of miles outta town."
"Which way?"
"South. Near the place where the road forks off toward the west."
"Must be the old Pot's place," the old geezer says, like he's a walking authority or something. "I heard tell it was going to seed pretty bad."
"Don't know about that," I says. "Big barney, that's my buddy, rented it."
"Oh, he did, huh?" the old geezer sneers. "Well, if he done business with Peter Pot, he got a skinnin' Bet he paid a pretty penny to rent it. You'd do well to watch old Pot. He'd boil his own mother in oil, if he could get away with a extra penny er two."
"A watched pot never boils," I says. "I don't know how much Barney give for the place, but he ain't one to come out second best in a business deal."
The old geezer looks at me for a second or two and stumbles around with a few 'haws and 'humphs,' before he could get his false clickers set proper to go on prying into by business.
"Where you workin'? he finally asks.
"No where. We're just taking it easy for a spell."
"Pretty hard buying groceries, when a fellas not got a job or income," the old geezer says in a real suspicious tone.
"We've got a little saved up to keep the wolf from the door," I says, getting pretty disgusted.
"That'll be eight three, seventy eight," the old geezer says real smart and sudden like. "I don't take no checks or give credit."
I wish you could have seen that old bastard hovering over the stack of groceries on the counter. The way he had his arms spread out and his face all screwed up at the mouth, you'd have thought he was a buzzard with his talons caught in a dead carcass and couldn't stand the stink.
"What do you charge for delivering," I says, figuring to set him down some.
"Dollar in town. Three dollars out to the Pot's place."
"Can you get them out by sundown?"
"Yep."
"Good," I says, and peeled out five twenties.
"Ain't you got nothing smaller than that," the old geezer says, while his bifocals danced on his nose. "Don't like to use up all my change on one transaction."
"Just keep the change," I says like a big shot. "There's plenty more where that came from."
The old geezer couldn't say a word for choking on his falsies. I figured it was worth thirteen dollars and twenty-two cents to put him in his place.
Well, come sundown, I was a diddling around at the cook stove with a couple of fox squirrels I had killed, figuring I'd cook up a real delicacy for big Barney and cheer him up some. But at the time big Barney was sitting by the front window just staring off to the west like he was facing a firing squad. The sunlight streaming through that window on the New Hampshire dust specks made his face look like the side of an eroded cliff. I don't think I ever was him look so old and used up as he did then with his face all streaked with the shadowy darkness like that.
Then, all of a sudden, he jumped up and screamed, "She's come back! Hank, old buddy, she's come back!" Then he tore out the door like a bull chasing a kid through an apple orchard.
He scared the hell out of me with his sudden commotion, and I flipped the squirrel clear up around the stove pipe and got my wood leg so tangled up in the oven door trying to retrieve it with the frying pan, that I came damn near being a reared casualty again.
Right then, there was one hell of a racket outside, and I went to investigate.
It looked like the whole town of Pittsfield, armed to the man with pick handles, pitchforks, crowbars, shotguns, and slingshots, had invaded the front yard. Big Barney was standing in front of the crowd with his dukes up like he was about to pick chickens by the dozen. I figured I'd better hurry on out and talk some, before he lit into them.
But, no sooner had I stepped off the front porch, when this old geezer from the grocery store starts doing a foxtrot up and down in front of another geezer who was wearing a six pointed star on his shirt front.
"That's him, Beeb! That's the feller! Put the cuffs on him, Beeb! Put the cuffs on him!"
This Beeb guy wasn't paying much attention. He was facing big Barney, and ordering him to put his dukes down or get shot at sunrise. But big Barney was in a fighting mood. He hunched up and plowed into that crowd so fast that I didn't have a chance to stop him. He busted about ten of those pumpkin heads to the ground, before they even begin to realize that the marines had landed. But about this time, this Beeb character sneaks up behind Barney and cracks him across the back of the head with an ax handle, and the fight was over.
About then, this old geezer from the grocery store gets to screaming, "We got 'em! We got 'em! See, Beeb, I told you they was crooks."
Then this Beeb guy saunters over to me, rubbing his star like he was an agent of the Internal Revenue Service or something.
"You the feller what cashed five twenty dollar bills at Puckett's Super Market this afternoon?" he says out of the side of his mouth.
"Nope!" I says. "I'm the fellow who blew a hundred bucks on groceries in that old geezer's food shop this afternoon. Which, I gotta tell you, ain't been delivered yet."
"Same difference," this Beeb guy says, tapping his Billy club-ax against the palm of his hand. "You city fellers sure think you're somebody when you get into the country."
"Us city fellers, begging your pardon, Mr. Officer," I says just as smart as he was talking. "sure didn't know there was a law against spending money in your town."
"There ain't, if the money is come by honestly," Beeb smirks.
"Well, it was come by honestly."
"That so?"
"Yeah, that's so."
"Then you won't mind telling me where you got it, will you?"
"Heck, no!" I grinned, figuring I had him there. "I got it out of the suitcase."
"What suitcase?"
"My suitcase. The one in the cabin there."
"Get the suitcase!"
"Go to hell! It ain't none of your business."
"I'm making it my business. Get the suitcase."
"Get it yourself!"
Then this charming Beeb fellow turns to his posse and says,
"You men hold this guy at gunpoint while I investigate the cabin. If he makes a move shoot him.
Well, I was pretty sore and didn't have my thinking cap on very straight; so just to show them, I folded my arms and stood back like I didn't really give a damn. But when I saw this Beeb start advancing on the cabin, I got to giggling real hard. I knew I was close to a laughing jag and did every thing I could to suppress it.
But, hell, Beeb was just a sight bellying across the front porch like a hound dog with a case of pinworms. Heck, I wasn't the only one who commenced to giggle either.
But what really iced the cake was when Beeb came stumbling out of the cabin with the suitcase clutched to his belly, just a puking and choking like a regular machine. I had left the squirrel in the frying pan on the stove, and I could tell by the whiff I got from clear out front that Beeb must have thought a skunk had pissed in his face. There sure isn't a thing worse than the compelling odor of burnt squirrel in a closed shack.
I just plain rolled up in a fit of laughter right then. The posse had to pick me up and carry me to a truck and from the truck to the jail. And, then, it was almost morning before I could get my tickler stopped.
Anyway, come morning, things were both good and bad. Barney came-to just growling like a bad bear about justice and the back of his head. In a way, I was glad to hear him growling about the damage done to his noggin, because I could tell hen that the fight had been just like a dose of occupational therapy and had cured him of his love wound, which he had licked long enough.
I read in a book somewhere about this business of occupational therapy. I memorized one passage and still quote it to the kids once in a while when they get to acting too smart about what they learn in school. I don't know the source, but it goes:
"Occupational therapy is the only device known to medical science whereby a patient, set upon a rewarding emotional and physical program of manipulations, and thus be enticed from a nebula of self-instilled, physiological sadness with psychological complications, without the sociological benefit of the physician's general panacea of all ills -- the monthly statement -- can thus cure himself and refuse to pay the bill."
Which all means, I think, one good jolt to the head is often enough to cure a sick heart. Personally, I like my dad's optimistic approach better.
Anyway, by mid-morning big Barney and I were in a hell of a mess. We had been charged with counterfeiting, suspicion of bank robbery, attempted arson, the Mann Act, the Dyer Act, disturbing the peace, battery and assault while resisting arrest, and vagrancy. Hell! this Beeb guy had even wired the FBI in Washington, D.C. that he was holding us until the FBI extradited us to wherever we had committed our crime.
When he brought us our baloney and cold chili for lunch, Beeb was so cocky that for once I was mad enough to fight...especially since he just slopped the food through the jail bars like we were dogs or something. But big Barney beat me to it. He dipped into his bowl of chili with one hand and threw a glob on the stuff right into Beeb's shining, pee-brained face.
Beeb went to sputtering like a go-go girl without her skivvies and hissing vengeance like a pup nipping at a horse's tail. "Big feller," he says, "you'd better watch your step or the next time I bust your head you'll need three doctors to sew it back together again."
"Hayseed," big Barney yells at the top of his lungs, "when you open this jail door the first time, I'm going to personally jam your Billy club down your throat and break it off inside your neck."
"I've handled tough birds like you before," Beeb says.
"Not from the front like a man," big Barney growls. "And I don't care how many are around you buster, when we get out of here, you're the first. You can count on that."
Then Beeb gets cocky and saunters right up to the jail bars to make his nest quotation.
Blam! Big Barney reached through the jail door and grabbed Beeb right around the left biceps and started squeezing. Big Barney was just too strong for any man. You could just about hear the bones cracking in Beeb's arm as Barney put the pressure to him. Beeb screamed bloody murder. When Barney let him go, he fell to the floor like a mop with a broken handle.
"That's only the start, hayseed," Barney said. "Now, you go tell your friends how tough you are. Just remember the day this door opens is the day me and you are going to have at it. You bring all the Billy clubs you want...one isn't going to be nearly enough."
Big Barney calmed down right after that. For a while there, I thought he was going to start mooning over his love affair again. But, then, he got around to talking, and I know everything was all right.
"Hank, old buddy, how did we get into this mess, anyhow?" I sure don't remember getting on a drunk or nothing."
"Danged if I know, Barney. All I did was walk into town to buy some groceries. And when that old geezer at the grocery store brought the groceries to the cabin he also brought the whole town along with him. Soon as he got there he started screaming to everybody that we were crooks, just because I gave him five twenty-dollar bills."
"Well, that sure ain't a crime," Barney said.
"Yeah, but when you got mad and busted into them, they were sure we were on the run from something."
"Sorry about that," Barney said.
"Then this Beeb character wanted to know where I got my money, and I told him out of my suitcase. When he opened it up he swore to high heaven we were bank robbers, because no honest person would hide that much legal money in a suitcase."
"How much was you carrying?" Barney asked, looking kind of funny.
"Close as I can figure, about eighteen thousand."
"Eighteen thousand!"
Yeah, Least ways, I think it was."
"In a suitcase!"
"Sure. You know I always put most of my winnings there. I wouldn't have touched it at all, if we hadn't needed some groceries to eat on."
"Hank, old buddy," Barney said and then went to laughing like his old self. "Haw, haw...hee, hee...you're just too much," was the way he ended it.
I laughed pretty hard for a while myself. Then I said,
"Then you ain't mad at me for spending the money?"
"Mad? Hank, you're the first guy I've ever known that I never got mad at," Barney said, turning serious again. "You're just too honest for your own good."
"I'm sure glad you're not mad at me about the money. But you ought'a be sore some about me getting us throwed in the clink."
"Hank, you didn't get us throwed in here. It wasn't your fault, at all. Don't you ever believe it was. Those jerks out there are what we fought for in the war. They'll yell blood every time it rains. They've just got to pick on someone, or they'd be fighting each other. We were the strangers in town and they elected us. We couldn't have done nothing right in their eyes if we had walked down the main street with crosses on our backs. There are a lot in the world like them, Hank. You ought a know that by now."
"Yeah, Barney, I guess there is."
"It's only when you're strong enough to beat the jerks at their own silly games that it counts, Hank. Always remember that."
"Sort of like being an optimist, huh?"
Yeah, Hank. But with guts."
"Well, I've sure got plenty of guts now, all right. Even if they are growling empty as can be."
"Sure you have, Hank. Say, just to change the subject, you know what we ought to do when we get out of here?"
"Sure. Get the hell out of town as quick as we can."
"I mean besides that," Barney said.
"Beats me," I shrugged. "I guess, head south for the winter."
"Nope!" Barney grinned. "We're going west and find us a business to get into."
"Heck. I thought we were in the crap-shooting business. That is a business, ain't it?"
"Sure. But not the right kind. We need something worth working at. This 'easy-come, easy-go' stuff just ain't getting us no place."
"It got us all over the country a couple of times, and --"
"I don't mean traveling, Hank. I mean something that we can keep for appearance sake--like the things other people have got. Something we own and nobody can take away from us while we're fighting to keep it."
"Well, I don't know much about the fighting part, but doing something else for a change is okay by me. That is, if it ain't nothing like coal mining or something like that."
"You can bet it won't be coal mining, Hank. We'll look around and find us a real respectable business. Okay?"
"Okay," I replied.
Then Barney went to musing about his new idea, and I could see that there wasn't going to be anymore talk for a while, so I laid down on my iron cot and took a nap.
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