CHAPTER SIX
Well, big Barney and I spent several days in the jailhouse planning our future, before the citizens of Pittsfield found out we weren't desperados.
Big barney stayed true to his promise to get Beeb the instant the jail door swung open. But he was too late to carry out his threat. He went charging around the town like a traffic cop on roller skates, but Beeb just wasn't there. It seems Beeb was about one day ahead of Barney in the thinking department. He had resigned his position as town marshal, claiming he was tired of New Hampshire winters, and had hopped a train for California.
We were sure by then that our eighteen thousand dollars had gone to fertilize the tourist trade in California. But we were wrong about that. The vigilantes had impounded my suitcase for evidence against us as counterfeiters. Barney and me had to go before a judge and get an order from him to get the suitcase back. I told Barney that it just went to prove that most people were honest. Heck, if those geezers had thought the suitcase was full of real spending money instead of counterfeit, Barney and me would have been stark-naked broke.
Anyway, right after we had our things all collected and ready to leave town, I went back to the grocery store to finish up some undone business. I figured I had a hundred dollars coming back for the groceries I didn't get.
------
"Say pop!"
"Yes, John. Come on in here so you won't have to shout."
You'll have to excuse the interruption. John's got something on his mind that's bothering him. I can tell by the way he yelled 'pop' at me.
"Say, pop, do you think I ought to be a people doctor or a bird doctor when I grow up?"
"Well, John, I'd have to sit and study on that a spell. I thought you were going to be a space pilot."
"I was, pop. But I got to thinking maybe I'd better do something different because all the other guys are going to be space pilots."
"That's kind of a sudden decision isn't it, John?"
"Humph! He's just mad 'cause he couldn't fix Jimmy Fox's sick bird, that's all."
"Now, Marty...Why don't you just wait until John tells me his story. Then you can explain whatever it is you're trying to tell me."
"Yeah, Marty! Mind yer own business."
"Okay, I will. But don't you come running up to Laurie's room and try to take over the comic books."
"You stole them from me anyway."
"Didn't neither."
"Whoa down there, you two. Marty, you just mind your comic books for a while, and John, let's you and I get back to this bird business."
"See, smarty, I told you the comics was ours."
"Enough, Marty."
"Yes, sir."
"Now, John -- "
"Well, pop, Jimmy had a sick pigeon, and I tried to make him well."
"The pigeon or Jimmy?"
"Aw, pop...You're teasing. Jimmy wasn't sick. You know that."
"I do?"
"Sure you do. Anyway, I put a splint on the pigeon's wing, but it didn't help much."
"Was the pigeon's wing broke?"
"Nope. But I didn't know what else to do. Jimmy wanted to give the pigeon a dose of turpentine, but I wouldn't let him, because that's dog medicine."
"It is, huh?"
"Yeah, Harry told me that."
"So what did you and jimmy do for the pigeon after that?"
"Buried him."
"Oh. Died, huh?"
"Yeah. Kind of sudden too."
"That's life, John."
"Yeah, pop, I know. And that's what started me to thinking about this doctor stuff. If I knew the right things, I could maybe stop people and birds from dying and gettin' sick and into all kinds of trouble and stuff like we are now."
"Son, you might as well know right now that when the wolf growls nobody is immune. Just being a doctor can't stop that, although it might help some. I'll tell you what. Why don't you just think on it for a week or two. Getting to be a doctor is serious business, and you'll want to be sure your choice is a wise one, before you begin a career like that. Okay?"
"Yeah. You're right, pop. Can I get you anything now, before I go upstairs."
"No. Nothing right now, son. Thanks anyway."
"You're welcome, pop."
John scares me a lot some times. He's such a bright little guy, that sometimes it makes me wonder if I'll know in time which way to point him when he does get to be college age.
------
But, getting back to this thing in Pittsfield, I have to say that I was pretty burned up about the whole mess. I was just mad enough to pull one of big Barney's fighting routines on the old geezer in the store, if I had to.
By the time I got to his place I was as puffed up as a stage struck wrestler, and I stomped into the place, figuring I'd scare holy hell right out of the old bastard. But he just glanced at me like I was nuts and played like he didn't even know me.
"Can I get you something?" he asked, clicking his falsies just as cool as a Sunday School teacher on Saturday.
"Yeah!" I growled as tough as I could. "You can get me my hundred bucks and stick your falsies up your butt."
"Oh! You again! Thought you'd left town," he smiled, squinting.
Yeah! It's me! And I want my hundred bucks back!"
"Sorry. I don't keep that kind of money around. Can't afford it, you know. Never know when one of them gangsters in the city might try a stick-up. Could maybe see my way clear to give it to you in groceries."
"You ain't giving me none of your lard or biscuits, old man. I want my hundred bucks in cold cash, or I'll take it out in hot skin, right off your ass."
"Can't do it. You bought groceries and I never make refunds," he said, starting to tremble.
"Look! Damn you!" I screamed. "You can take your groceries and shove 'em. Either you give me my hundred bucks, or you can start bleeding, skinflint."
"Are you threatening me?"
I walked around the counter and grabbed him by his necktie.
"You're damn well right, I am!"
Then that lecherous old sonofagun ups and kicks me right in the wood leg. It sure must have surprised him, because he commenced to screaming and moaning and dancing around trying to hold his foot worse than an Arab chasing one of those asp snakes. I began to feel sorry for him then, because he sure wasn't in any shape for that kind of exercise.
But about then, big Barney came in and the old geezer sure changed his tactics fast. He too one look at Barney and hobbled straight over to his cash register, reached under it, and pulled out an old greasy cigar box. Hell, I bet that lying old lobster cracker had as much money tucked away in his cigar boxes as I had in my suitcase.
Anyway, he came across with the money, and big Barney and I were several miles out of Pittsfield five minutes later, heading west or south or somewhere.
I always have said that it was too bad the people of Pittsfield weren't as pretty as the scenery, but maybe that's what that fellow was talking about when he claimed everyone should go west. But, then, like my daddy always told me, "As long as the wolf don't get you, you kin find some good and some bad in everything."
But good, bad or indifferent, big Barney and I were gone from there forever. We curved on as far west as St. Louis. Barney liked the town and decided we could find us a good business there. We had hit several good games on the way, and the dice had stayed nice and warm to our luck. It was then I noticed that Barney was sure a changed man; he had turned almost deadly serious. No longer was it just a matter of a good time when the dice rolled. He went after a bankroll just as though each table was sitting on the cliffs of Monte Carlo. By the time we chugged into St. Louis, we had close to forty-five thousand dollars to start our new business with.
Barney didn't exactly know what would be the best thing to get into, and I didn't much care myself, because I figured I wasn't much of the business type. We looked over a few restaurants, but he didn't like the hours. Then we looked over some clothing stores, but he said we'd lose our socks in dealings like that. Then we looked over a couple of hardware shops, and he said we'd bust our buckets quick doing something like that. And finally, we started to investigate the tavern business.
I guess right then and there is where things started to go bad for us. Barney got to sampling the products too much. Every time we went to see about buying one, which was everyday, he'd do more looking than talking. Then all of a sudden, it got so we just got to going any old place to keep Barney's appetite soothed.
It wasn't long before I was sure that if there was one thing in this world big Barney couldn't do, it was hold his liquor. It got so I was just plan busting a gut every night, getting him back to the hotel room. Then he'd moan and carry on something terrible about the stinking world and how he'd lost it in New Hampshire and how women were no good all over the world. I guess that girl back in Pittsfield had wounded him more than I had ever thought.
Well, big Barney got to slipping pretty fast after that. I'd shake him out of bed about noon everyday and try t get something down him besides the coffee and cigarettes and straight booze. I even rigged up a mirror in the hotel room so he'd have to look himself in the face each morning and see the damage he was doing to himself. It didn't do much good though, because he still had the fighter's blood in him; when he got into a brawl it was a fight to the finish, no matter who or what he was fighting. He had his mind made up, and there wasn't a thing I could do about it. I just had to sit back and watch him go down about fifty pounds or more in about four months.
And then history repeated itself. St. Louis had this sudden...
------
"Daddy -- "
"Yes, Wonderland."
"It's bedtime for the kids."
"That late already?"
"Yes, daddy. It's almost nine thirty."
"Have they all had their baths?"
"Yes, daddy. But we've got a bad problem."
"Well, it can't be so bad that you have to sniffle about it."
"I'm not sniffling."
"Sounds like it."
"I'm not."
"I'll take your word for it. Now, what's the problem, honey?"
"Well, daddy, when the furniture company came today and took away all the stuff, they too all the beds except yours and mine."
"Oh, I see...well, ah...that is a problem, isn't it?"
"Daddy, what are we going to do?"
"Oh, we'll manage someway, Wonderland."
"But how? There's just not enough room for anybody to sleep, unless we put someone on the floor, and it's just too cold to do that. Besides, we wouldn't have enough blankets to go around that way."
"Of course, it's too cold to do that. I'll tell you what, Wonderland -- "
"Say! I've got an idea, pop."
"You have, John?"
"Sure. Why don't we just get out the sleeping bags we used on the camping trip last summer?"
"We can't do that, dumb bunny! We sold them to buy school clothes with last September, didn't we dad?"
"Yes, Harry. I'm afraid we did."
"I can sleep with Alice, daddy."
"That's right, Laurie, you can. And that should solve the whole problem. I tell you what you do, Wonderland. Just fix my bed for the boys and move Laurie in with you. Everyone should sleep snug that way."
"But that doesn't leave any place for you, daddy."
"Sure it does. Just bring me a blanket, and I'll bunk right here in the chair."
"You can't sleep here, daddy."
"Sure I can, Wonderland. This snowy weather is kind of soaking into the wrong end of my wood leg, and you know I never sleep very well when my leg bothers me."
"But it's too cold. You'll freeze to death."
"No I won't. Just a blanket to cover up with, and I'll be as comfortable as everyone."
"Are you sure, daddy?"
"Yes, Wonderland, I'm sure. Now, you go fix the bed for the boys. Make sure Marty goes to the pot before you tuck him in."
"I already went."
"You can go again, young man!"
"Oh, all right."
"Hey, young man! March right back here and kiss me goodnight!"
"I forgot."
"Me first!"
"Okay, Laurie. You first. Goodnight."
"Night."
"Goodnight, Marty."
"Night, dad."
"Goodnight, John."
"Sleep tight, pop."
"Thanks, son. I will."
"Harry -- "
"I'm last."
"Sorry, son. Alice is."
"She's always last."
"That's because she's the oldest."
"Oh, all right. But you'd think I was gettin' old enough to be last sometimes."
"Maybe next year."
"Goodnight, dad."
"Goodnight, son."
"Are you sure you'll be okay down here by yourself, daddy?"
"Of course, I will, Wonderland. This is much better than some of the places I slept in while I was in the army."
"Well, if you need anything during the night, you just yell real loud and I'll get it for you. Goodnight, daddy."
"Ummph, huh. Goodnight, Wonderland."
"Daddy -- "
"Yes, Wonderland."
"I forgot to tell you that I love you."
"I love you too, Wonderland. Have sweet dreams."
"I'll try, daddy, I'll try."
I guess the health authorities would call us unsanitary, the way we go through this kissing ritual every night. But the germs sure don't stop us from loving on another, even though five little ones can sure dampen up a father's whiskers with a lot of unseen bugs. Anyway, I wouldn't pass it up for anything in the world.
------
As I was saying about St. Louis. Things went pretty sour, pretty quick. The whole city was caught in a Polio epidemic, and I wanted to leave town, because I always have been afraid of things I can't understand -- optimism or no optimism. Barney said I was nuts to worry about it, especially since Polio was a childhood disease and we weren't kids anymore.
So we stayed, and Barney kept drinking his way downhill, and I kept getting the feeling that the old wolf was sniffing around my corner again and started worrying worse than ever.
Then late one night, Barney got to making such a commotion in bed that he woke me up. As soon as I touched him I knew it wasn't one of his usual complaints about bad whiskey. He was burning up with fever, and nothing I did could bring it down.
I called the hotel doctor, and he took one look at big Barney and called a hospital and rushed him away. I guess those medical people there were a lot like old Doc Benjind was when he was fooling around with the flu. Their hearts were in the right places, but there wasn't much they could do. Big Barney went to screaming with pain at the slightest touch, even mine, much less the nurses.
I guess I'll never be able to forget the look in his eyes, just before he died. I guess he knew that he had lost his first fight and just couldn't believe it.
What I could never figure out, though, was how a bug guy like Barney could catch a thing like that and die, and a little scrawny runt like me never even came down with a runny nose. I suppose the only logical reason for it is that people like me go by the wolf, and people like Barney go by the bug bite.
------
Well, the old recorder is about out of tape for tonight; I guess I'm more tired than I thought.
Sitting here in this strange noisy silence gives me a creepy feeling deep down inside. John and Marty are sure seesawing loud on the snore parade, and that sure worries me a lot. Harry used to sound that way, before I had his tonsils and adenoids taken out. I guess John and Marty need theirs out too.
Then, also, there is an odd rustling sound in the way the snow is falling outside. I've heard it before, and I know as sure as the devil that the wolf is mixed-up in it some way. He's smarter then he was years ago; I guess he has to be, being up against an optimist this way all the time. But I'll bet he's stalking around out there between the snowflakes like a ghost hiding in smoke, just peeking over the window sill whenever he wants to survey the situation.
Hell, there's no sense betting on it. I know he's there. I can't see him but I can smell him. I feel just like an ostrich with his head in the sand and his ass straight up in the air. The bird kingdom might get protection that way, but it sure doesn't give me a feeling of security.
I'll sleep on it.
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