Once Upon a Summer Page 7

  We walked to the house for the milk pail, then back again to the barn. He pulled up an extra stool and watched me as the white streams of milk filled the pail with foam. As I milked he talked to me. He even talked to Bossie, and I had the strangest feelin’ that at any time he might turn around and begin talkin’ to Ginger, too.

  We took the full pail of milk to the house, and Gramps said that sometime he’d like to give it a try—it looked easy enough. Did I think that Bossie would mind? I didn’t think so. She was pretty even-tempered and never really seemed to mind anything but the pesky flies that sometimes drove her runnin’ with her tail flyin’ high.

  By the time we were back from the house, Bossie had finished her chop. I let her out of her stanchion and we drove her down the lane and back to pasture. While we walked, Gramps told me how it had been for him growin’ up as a boy in a big city back east. No open pastures or acres of trees, but all tall buildings, belchin’ smoke stacks, and crowded streets. I tried to see it all in my mind, but it was pretty hard to picture, me never havin’ been anywhere near a big city.

  We ended my chores by carryin’ wood. I was glad that I had already split it. Gramps carried his share. He could take as many sticks in a load as I could. I had to admire him.

  I was about to return to the house when I remembered that Grandpa and Uncle Charlie would soon be returning with thirsty and tired teams.

  “You go on in,” I said to Gramps. “I think that I’ll jest run on down to the barn and fork down some hay for the horses, then pump the trough full of water.”

  “Tell you what, you do the forking and I’ll do the pumping.”

  He could see that I wasn’t sure that I should let him.

  “Go ahead. If I tire, I’ll rest.”

  I ran for the barn and pushed the hay down through the chute into the mangers, then I measured out the chop and put each horse’s portion in his chop box. I ran back to the pump-house. Gramps was still pumpin’. He didn’t seem too winded and the trough was almost full. I took over and finished filling it.

  Mentally I checked all the chores off the list that I kept in my mind. That was it. Everything was cared for and on time, too.

  We carried in Gramps’ two trunks and put them in the downstairs bedroom which had been our “guest room,” though we never had overnight guests. Lou had decided that would be the best place for him—before she saw that stairs really wouldn’t have slowed him down that much. The room was all repapered, fresh-painted and ready. It still seemed the most appropriate place for Gramps.

  Lou had supper ready and waiting on the back of the stove. We washed ourselves and prepared to wait, but while we were still sharin’ the long kitchen towel, we could hear the jingling of harness and we knew that Grandpa and Uncle Charlie would soon be there to join us.

  CHAPTER 9

  Family

  LOU GOT THE IDEA that it would be fun to surprise Grandpa and Uncle Charlie, them not expectin’ Gramps to show up jest out of the blue like that; Gramps went along with it wholeheartedly. He looked around the kitchen to make sure that he hadn’t left anything laying around that would give him away and then slipped into his new bedroom.

  Grandpa and Uncle Charlie took turns at the basin, sloshin’ the warm water over their faces, necks, and arms. Then they scrubbed their hands with the strong soap and rinsed them in fresh water.

  “Glad to see the mangers and the trough full, Boy,”

  Grandpa commended me. Uncle Charlie tousled my hair but said nothin’.

  They took their places at the table and Lou set on the food.

  Grandpa was the first to notice.

  “What’s the extry place?”

  “Oh, my goodness,” said Lou. “Can’t I even count anymore?” But when she made no move to take away the plate, Grandpa became suspicious. He and Uncle Charlie were probably both afraid that Lou had stolen a march on them and was doin’ a little lookin’ over the field on her own. She set down the last dish of food, a heaped-up bowl of new potatoes, and gave Grandpa her innocent little girl look.

  “Truth is, Pa, I invited a guest for supper.”

  Grandpa and Uncle Charlie really looked nervous now.

  Uncle Charlie recovered first.

  “Well—where is he?”

  We weren’t in the habit in our home of sittin’ down to eat before the guests arrived.

  “Well—he’s—he’s—a—in the bedroom.” Lou raised her voice as she said it and Gramps took the cue, but not before Grandpa and Uncle Charlie had nearly choked on Lou’s words.

  Out popped Gramps in his new, but now slightly soiled, overalls and boots, his perky mustache twitchin’ humorously and his blue eyes twinklin’.

  “Well, I’ll be,” said Grandpa as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. Then a general uproar followed with handshakes and manly hugs and laughter.

  “How’d you git here?” Uncle Charlie finally asked. “We thought that we’d git a letter or a telly-gram telling us when to meet yer train.”

  “In the midst of harvest? Even a city-slicker like me knows better than to pull a stunt like that.

  “I knew that once I got to town, I’d be able to either find a way out or to send word some way for you to come and get me.”

  We finally got back to the table where Lou’s good meal was gettin’ cold. The talk continued but the food didn’t suffer because of it. It seemed to disappear in the usual fashion. Gramps complimented Lou over and over.

  “Now that’s what I’ve been missing since your grandmother died. Some good cooking—and,” he added more thoughtfully, “someone to share it with.”

  We all understood his meaning.

  “Well,” Grandpa put in, “we all are right glad that ya decided to come on out and be with us. It’s jest real good to have ya.”

  I was almost surprised at how heartily I was able to agree.

  I already loved the old man, and he had jest been in the house a few hours.

  “Gramps helped with chores,” I offered.

  “He did?”

  “Not really helped,” corrected Gramps, “just sort of tagged along to chat a bit and see what goes on on a farm. Never been on one before, you know.”

  “But he did help,” I insisted. “He carried wood and he pumped water and—”

  Gramps stopped me. “Hey, Josh, you cut that out. Your Grandpa is supposed to think of me as old and worn out. You tell him stories like that and he’ll put me out hoeing or such like.”

  Everyone laughed together.

  “Fact is,” continued Gramps, “I’d a lot rather hang around the kitchen and bother the cook.” He winked at me and smiled.

  Suddenly he grew silent and thoughtful and raised his eyes heavenward.

  “You’ll never know how many times on my train ride out here that I thanked the Lord for my family. Must be the most awful thing in the world not to have anybody. I felt at first that I had no one—when Mama died—but all that I needed to do was to make connections again. Some people now, they’re not that fortunate. When their partner is gone, they are alone— really alone.

  “Here I am with my family—two sons, a granddaughter, and a great-grandson. My family. I am a man mightily, mightily blessed.”

  He smiled on us all. Lou brushed away tears unashamedly and Grandpa cleared his throat rather noisily. I swallowed hard. I had some thanks that needed sayin’, too—it was that God hadn’t taken seriously my prayer when I wanted to get rid of this wonderful old man. It almost made me break out into a sweat, to discover what I had been anxious to deny myself.

  Gramps had talked about his “family.” Sure we were a family. You didn’t have to be a ma and a pa and four kids to be a family. All you needed was people livin’ together and lovin’ and helpin’ one another. That’s what made a family—blood-ties and love-bonds.

  I straightened up taller in my chair. I was right proud to be a member of this family.

  CHAPTER 10

  The Fishin’ Hole

  I STILL HAD a hankeri
n’ to work in some time at my fishin’ hole before harvest ended and I found myself back in a stuffy schoolroom. Gradually my work was caught up and even a bit ahead so that I finally freed myself for a few hours on a Friday mornin’. It was already gittin’ close to the noonday meal. If I went fishin’ right away I would miss my dinner, but if I waited until after dinner it would sure cut into my fishin’ time. I decided that I’d sweet talk Lou into makin’ me a couple of sandwiches and givin’ me an apple or two.

  I was on my way to the kitchen to make my request when I noticed Gramps. He had been tired after his long journey by train, and when the excitement of meetin’ us all sort of quieted down he realized jest how tired he was. The dry air bothered him a bit, too, but gradually he was pickin’ up steam again. He still chored with me. He was catchin’ on real good as to what needed to be done. Sometimes he would even say things like, “Now I’ll take the water and feed to the chickens while you run down the lane for Bossie.”

  Durin’ the day he read a lot or even puttered in the kitchen helpin’ Lou prepare fruit or vegetables for cannin’.

  Right now he was sittin’ on the back porch readin’ a big thick book. A sudden thought hit me. Would there be any chance— any chance at all—that Gramps would care for a trip to the crik? Even if he didn’t fish, he could rest on the bank and read like Auntie Lou often did.

  He grinned at me and I gathered together all of my nerve.

  “I got a few extry hours here,” I said. “Thinkin’ of goin’ down to the crik to see if the fish are bitin’. Dug up some great night crawlers in the barnyard.”

  At once his eyes lit up.

  “Mind if I tag along?”

  I relaxed then and blew the breath that I’d been holdin’.

  “I’d like that.”

  “So would I.”

  He gathered up his book and hurried it back to his bedroom.

  Lou was busy with some yellow beans.

  “Auntie Lou,” I ventured, “Gramps and me are gonna take us a little time fer fishin’. Would it be okay iffen we took a couple sandwiches?”

  “Great idea,” responded Auntie Lou, “then I won’t have to stop in the middle of this job to fix dinner for ya.”

  Uncle Charlie and Grandpa were workin’ with a neighborhood-cuttin’-bee, for a farmer who was laid up with a broken leg, so they wouldn’t be home for dinner either.

  “You run on out and bring the clothes in off the line so they won’t fade in the sun; I’ll git your lunch ready.”

  By the time I deposited the clothes on the kitchen table, Lou had our old lunch pail packed and ready to go. Gramps was ready, too, but a little concerned.

  “I haven’t a fish pole, Josh.”

  “We’ll cut one.”

  “And no line.”

  “I have string in my pocket.”

  “A hook?”

  I grinned. “Yeah, I’ve an extry.”

  We started off, me leading the way because Gramps hadn’t been to the crik before.

  I hadn’t a moment’s hesitation but headed straight for my favorite spot—the one that I had never shown anyone before. I jest hoped that today the fish were bitin’.

  When the path was wide enough, we walked side by side.

  “You know,” admitted Gramps, “you’re going to find this hard to believe, but I’ve never been fishing before.”

  I did find it hard to believe. I couldn’t imagine livin’ without occasional fishin’.

  “You’re going to have to teach me, Josh.”

  “I’ll show ya all I know,” I solemnly promised. “I jest hope they’re bitin’.”

  We got to the crik and it looked great. The dark shadows hung on the deeper water. I could hardly wait to git started, but first I got out my jackknife and cut a pole for Gramps. Then I tied the string in the notch that I made on one end. I pulled my little bottle out of my pocket, took out a hook and attached it to the other end of the string.

  “This the spot?”

  “This is it.” Excitement filled my voice.

  “You know,” said Gramps, “I rather like the looks of that small island out there in the middle. Don’t you think that might be a great place to sit and fish from?”

  Already Gramps showed a fisherman’s instincts. I liked that. That little island was the best place along the whole crik, but you had to wade to get to it, and I wasn’t sure if I should suggest that to Gramps. Now I answered promptly.

  “Yep! It sure is, but ya gotta wade to git there.”

  “Well, let’s wade.”

  “Ya gotta go downstream a ways where the water is shallower and cross over on the sandbar, then walk upstream and come in right there at the end—slightly to the other side. That way you won’t git yer clothes all soaked.”

  “Lead the way,” prompted Gramps. “Let’s go.”

  I led the way. When we got to the crossin’ place, I set the lunch pail on the ground alongside my pole and bent down to pull up my pant legs; I was barefoot. Gramps followed suit. Then he bent over and undid his shoes and socks. When he was finished, we picked up all of our gear and started across.

  The water felt cold at first, but we gradually got used to it. I tried to pick sandy places with few rocks ’cause I realized that Gramps hadn’t been runnin’ most of the summer with bare feet like I had and his feet wouldn’t be tough like mine.

  We got into a little deeper water as we made our way upstream, and I heard Gramps chucklin’ behind me.

  When I reached jest the right spot, I cut over and headed for the small island. It wasn’t much more than room for two people to comfortably sit, but it did have some trees and bushes.

  I heaved myself up the little bank, laid down my equipment and turned to give Gramps a hand. He handed me his pole and then clambered up the bank to join me. He was still chucklin’.

  “Afraid I didn’t do as good a job as you rolling up my pant legs, Josh. One slipped down mid-stream.”

  It sure had all right. A good two feet of overall leg was soakin’ wet.

  “Does Lou get riled about wet overalls?”

  “Well, sorta,” I answered honestly. “It’s not the wet so much as the dirt that mixes with it. By the time one gits home, it’s mud.”

  “I can see the problem,” said Gramps, lookin’ at the soggy leg.

  “Well, then, we’ll just have to dry it out, won’t we?” And right there, on our little island, Gramps unclasped his overall straps and climbed out of his pants.

  He picked up the wet leg and wrung all of the water out of it that he could, then he crossed to a nearby bush and spread the overalls out over the branches, with the wet leg layin’ full in the sun.

  “There now.” His eyes twinkled as he chuckled again. “That should dry just fine by home time.”

  I looked at his wet underwear leg. He looked down, too.

  “That won’t matter any. It’ll partly dry as I sit in the sun and fish; and the wet that remains will be covered with my overalls when I walk home on the dusty path, so it won’t gather the dirt.”

  He had it all figured out.

  “Let’s get to fishing! Just hope that my white flannels don’t scare the fish away.”

  He really did look a sight, trampin’ around in his skinny-legged underwear, his plaid shirttails flappin’ loose. I couldn’t help it. I jest had to laugh and he joined right in.

  I took off my denim shirt and spread it on the ground in what I considered a first-rate spot. I figured that we should protect that white underwear as much as possible or Auntie Lou might be askin’ questions. Gramps settled down on the shirt and I handed him my pole. It was kinda special to me and had my favorite hook on it, but I knew that I wanted Gramps to have the best. He knew what I was doin’.

  “Thank you, Joshua,” he said softly.

  I showed him where to drop the line and how to jiggle the pole, jest slightly, to give a bit of action to the hook under the water. I took the other pole, baited the hook, and threw it in.

  We hadn’t be
en there long when I felt a quick tug. I knew that I had one, and like every other time, I felt excitement shiver through my whole body.

  Gramps got excited, too, and jumped to his feet cheerin’ me on. I finally got the fish landed, and it flopped back and forth in the grass a safe distance from the water’s edge. I tapped it with a rock so that it wouldn’t suffer none.

  “It’s a dandy! It’s a dandy!” Gramps kept yellin’. “You’re a real fisherman, Josh, a real fisherman.”

  I had never seen anyone so excited about a fish before. It was a fair size, but I had caught bigger ones from this hole. Still, I was pleased with it and even more pleased at the fact that Gramps admired my accomplishment.

  We kept right on fishin’ even when we ate our sandwiches. Auntie Lou had really packed a terrific lunch. I thought when I looked in the pail that we could stay fishin’ for the whole week without worryin’ about runnin’ out of food, but to the surprise of both of us, we emptied the pail of everything—sandwiches, pie, apples, and all.

  We had jest finished the last of our lunch when I felt a tug on my line again. Gramps was a-whoopin’ even before the fish jumped to try to free itself.

  “It’s a dandy! Hang on, Josh! Bring him in, Joshua! Easy now! That does it! It’s a dandy! It’s a dandy!”

  I got that fish landed, too, and as the two laid there on the grass together, they were almost identical in size. Gramps’ face was flushed with pleasure. He whipped off his hat and pounded the leg of his underwear.

  “Boy, Josh,” he said, “this beats a circus.”

  Now a circus was one thing that I’d always had a hankerin’ to see, but none had ever come anywhere near our little town.

  I picked up on it.

  “You seen a circus?”

  Gramps slowed down a bit. He even put his hat back on. He settled back down on my shirt and picked up the fishin’ pole.

  He tossed the line out carefully and began to jiggle it—jest a bit—like I had showed him.

  “Yep. I’ve seen circuses.”