Summer of the Monkeys (24 page)

Remembering that Mama had told me to play along with Daisy when she was telling me one of her stories, I said, “What did that old man have to say this time?”

“He didn’t say a word,” Daisy said. “He was just standing there, pointing that stick at our house.”

When I heard Daisy say this, I all but came unglued. “Does that mean we’re going to have bad luck?” I asked. “Maybe that old man is going to burn our house down.”

“No, Jay Berry,” Daisy said. “The Old Man of the Mountains isn’t going to burn our house down. He would never do anything like that. He’s too kind and gentle.”

“But you said every time he pointed that stick at anything, bad luck was sure to come.”

“No, Jay Berry,” Daisy said, “not every time. It just depends. If
the Old Man of the Mountains is frowning when he points that stick, you had better look out. It means he’s unhappy with you, and you’re sure to have bad luck. But if he’s smiling when he points that stick at you, it’s different. It means you’re going to have good luck.”

“Daisy,” I interrupted, “when you saw that old man, was he frowning or smiling?”

“He was smiling,” Daisy said. “He was just standing out there in the storm with his long white hair and his robe waving in the wind; pointing that stick at our house. Every time the lightning flashed, I could see him as plain as day. He looked pleased and happy, and had a warm smile on his face. We’re going to have good luck, Jay Berry, you can be sure of that.”

“I sure hope he knows what he’s doing,” I said. “I could use a lot of good luck right now—a whole tow sack full of it. I’d like to catch those monkeys before someone else does. As unlucky as I’ve been, that’s probably what will happen. I’ve worried so much now, I’ll probably be white-headed before I’m sixteen years old.”

“Jay Berry,” Daisy said, “maybe if I told you a story, it would get your mind off all that worrying. I have a real good story in mind. Would you like to hear it?”

“Aw, Daisy,” I said, “I don’t want to hear one of those old ghosty stories; not on a night like this. The way it’s been storming and everything, we’ll be lucky if we don’t wake up dead in the morning anyway.”

Daisy giggled. “Jay Berry,” she said, “I’ve never heard of anyone waking up dead; but if you don’t want to hear a good story, that’s all right. I’ll just save it until the next time.”

I didn’t say anything to my little sister, but I thought, “If I have anything to say about it, there won’t be any next-time story telling.”

After Daisy left my room, I had a terrible time going to sleep. I kept thinking about that Old Man of the Mountains and the good luck that was supposed to be coming my way.

When I finally did fall asleep, I had a strange dream. I dreamed that Rowdy and I were lost; way, way back in the mountains. It was pitch dark and I couldn’t see where I was going. I walked and I walked. I kept falling over rocks and logs, bumping into trees, and getting all tangled up in the underbrush. Finally, I got so tired and weak, I just couldn’t go on. Rowdy and I lay down under a big, white oak tree and went to sleep.

I started dreaming that I heard someone calling my name. “Jay Berry! Jay Berry! Wake up! Wake up now!” I opened my eyes and there before me stood the Old Man of the Mountains in his snow-white robe. I looked down and saw the sandals on his feet. He was just standing there, tall and straight, with his arms folded; looking at Rowdy and me. His eyes were as blue as a robin’s egg. He was smiling.

I got up and stood before him. “Old Man of the Mountains,” I said, “my little sister said that you would help any girl or boy that had been good. Well, ever since she first told me about you, I’ve tried hard to be a good boy. I really have. I haven’t caught any of the little animals or birds. I haven’t even stepped on a flower, or thrown a rock at a lizard. I’ve done everything that Mama and Papa have asked me to do, and I’ve said my prayers every night.

“I think I’ve been a pretty good boy, don’t you? Now I need help. I’m lost and I’m tired and hungry. I want to go home. Please, would you show us which way to go?”

The Old Man of the Mountains didn’t say a word. He just smiled, nodded his head, and pointed with his stick. Rowdy and I started walking in the direction he had pointed. It wasn’t long until I saw the lamplight in the windows of our home.

I was awakened from that wonderful dream by a loud banging noise. Daisy was pounding on the door of my room with that old crutch of hers. “Jay Berry,” she yelled, “you’d better get up. Breakfast is ready, and time is a-wasting.”

“All right,” I yelled, “you don’t have to beat the door down. I’m getting up.”

Daisy giggled and I heard the thumping of her crutch as she went on her way.

I hopped out of bed and flew into my clothes. Before leaving my room, I walked to the window and raised it. I expected to see a dark, gloomy, miserable day; but I was surprised. The storm had left everything sopping wet, but there wasn’t a rain cloud in the sky.

A bright morning sun seemed to be taking a rest right on top of the highest peak of the Ozark Mountains. It was just sitting there, big and bright, and looked like it was trying to make up its mind what to do next; dry everything out or make the green things grow.

Birds were singing and chickens were cackling. Out in the hog pen, Sloppy Ann was squealing with hunger. Up in the pasture, Sally Gooden mooed her delight with the juicy, green world. From down in our fields, I heard the cawing of an old crow and the scream of a red-tail hawk.

It was one of those perfect Ozark mornings—clean, fresh, and green. I closed my eyes, puffed out my chest, and sucked my lungs full of that fresh-scented air. I could feel the tingling sensations clear down to my toes. It made me feel like I had just been born and had my whole life to live again.

As I stepped into the kitchen, I saw that Mama, Papa, and Daisy had just seated themselves at the breakfast table. “Boy,” I said as I made ready to wash my face, “wasn’t that a storm last night?”

“It was a humdinger all right,” Daisy said. “With all that rain, I bet Papa’s corn will grow twenty feet tall.”

“Aw, Daisy,” I said as I dried my face on the towel, “corn doesn’t even grow that tall. If it did, you’d have to cut the stalks down with an axe to gather the ears.”

Papa laughed. “If I ever grow corn twenty feet tall, I’ll gather the ears all right,” he said. “I wouldn’t care if I had to climb the stalks and ride them down to the ground.”

Daisy squealed with delight. “Papa, you’d be just like
Jack and the Beanstalk,”
she said. “He grew a beanstalk all the way up to the heavens; then he climbed it.”

Still chuckling, Papa said, “That would be an easy way to get to heaven. Just grow a beanstalk and start climbing. I’ll bet more people would get to heaven by climbing a beanstalk than ever would by following the golden rule.”

Looking hard at Papa, Mama said, “I don’t want to hear any more talk like that. It’s not nice to joke about going to heaven. It’s not nice at all.”

Papa didn’t say a word. He just smiled.

Finished with breakfast, Papa got up from the table. He said, “Well, it’s going to be too wet to do any work in the fields today and, in a way, I’m glad of it. There are a few things around the place I’ve been wanting to do.”

Daisy sighed. “I sure have my work cut out for me today,” she said.

Mama smiled at her. “What, young lady, are you going to do?” she asked.

“I know that old storm messed up my playhouse, Mama,” she said. “I’ll just have to give it a good cleaning.”

Looking at me, Mama said, “And what do you have on your mind, young man?”

“I’m going down in the bottoms and see about the monkeys,” I said. “They could’ve drowned, or blown away in that storm. I’m worried about them.”

“No, I don’t want you down in those bottoms,” Mama said, shaking her head. “It’ll be damp and cold down there. Everything will be dripping wet. You’d probably get soaked and come down with a bad cold or pneumonia.”

“Aw, Mama,” I said, “whoever heard of a boy getting sick just because he got wet. I’ve been wet a jillion times and it never has made me sick.”

Before Mama could say anything, Daisy giggled and said, “Jay
Berry, I remember one time you got wet and you were sick for a month. I’ll never forget that.”

“When did that happen?” I asked.

“The time you were fixing the pulley on the well, and fell in,” Daisy said. “Surely, Jay Berry, you haven’t forgotten that. Boy, there was more excitement around here that day than I’ve ever seen.

“Rowdy was looking down in the well and bawling so loud you could’ve heard him clear over in Arkansas. Our chickens and geese were making more racket than they do when a hawk comes around. Sloppy Ann was squealing and Sally Gooden went absolutely crazy. She threw her tail in the air, jumped the pasture fence, and we didn’t find her for a week. And, with all that racket going on, Cindy—my poor little cat—got so scared she climbed on top of the house and I didn’t think I’d ever get her down.

“Mama was screaming and Papa got so scared he almost fell in the well himself—trying to get a rope down to you. Boy, that was a day to remember.”

“There was a lot of excitement around here that day all right,” Papa said, “but I don’t think we’ve ever had as much excitement as we did the day Rowdy sat down in that yellow jacket nest. It was three days before things were normal again.”

“I wish things like that would happen all the time,” Daisy said. “It would make things exciting and I just love excitement.”

“That wasn’t a very nice thing to say, young lady,” Mama said. “What if your brother had drowned when he fell in the well? It could have happened, you know.”

“Aw, Mama,” Daisy said, “I don’t think there was much chance of Jay Berry drowning. I looked down in the well and he was swimming like a muskrat down there.”

“It wasn’t getting wet that made me sick,” I mumbled. “I was scared and my nerves got sick.”

Everyone laughed, but me. I just couldn’t see anything funny about falling in the well. That was a terrible day for me.

Mama seemed to be in a better mood than she had been and I figured it was a good time to mention the monkeys again.

“Mama,” I said, “I wouldn’t be down in the bottoms very long—not over a couple of hours. I just want to see how those monkeys made out in the storm.”

Mama looked at me and frowned. “Jay Berry,” she said, “if you just have to go monkey hunting again, why can’t you wait until later in the day? By then, the sun will have things pretty well dried out.”

“Oh, all right,” I grumbled. “I guess I can wait that long. Boy, I’ll be glad when I get a little older.”

“And what are you going to do when you get a little older?” Mama asked.

“I’m going way back in the mountains and live in a hollow tree for the rest of my life,” I said. “That’s what I’m going to do.”

“What are you going to do for something to eat, and who’s going to wash your clothes?” Mama asked.

“I’ll live off the land,” I said, “and I won’t need any clothes. Won’t anyone see me anyway.”

Daisy squealed with laughter. She said, “Jay Berry, it gets mighty cold in those mountains in the wintertime. Maybe you’d better take at least one pair of britches with you.”

Mama and Daisy started laughing. My blood just boiled.

Papa saw that I was about to blow up and came to my rescue. “I could use some help in the blacksmith shop,” he said to me. “I have to sharpen some plow points. You can work the blower on the forge for me.”

It was a relief to get out of the house—away from Mama and Daisy.

I loved to help Papa in our blacksmith shop. There was something about the work that fascinated me: the flying sparks and the ringing anvil, the cherry-red metal and the roaring forge.

Papa and I were about halfway to the blacksmith shop when Daisy poked her head out the back door and yelled, “Jay Berry,
I’ve been thinking—if you go to live naked in a hollow tree way back in the mountains, you’d better be careful. A woodchopper might come along and chop that tree down with you in it.”

I turned to yell something back, but before I could open my mouth, she giggled and disappeared in the house. I heard Mama laughing with her.

“Women!” I grumbled. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand them. They think everything is funny.”

“Aw, I don’t think you’re mad at the women,” Papa said. “I think you’re mad at yourself. Maybe those monkeys have something to do with it. You’ve been as grumpy as an old settin’ hen lately.”

“I know, Papa,” I said. “I really couldn’t get mad at Mama and Daisy. I love them too much; but I want that pony and gun so bad, I can hardly stand it. If something happened to those monkeys, it’ll be the end of the world for me and that’s all there is to it. I’ll never get another chance to make that much money again—not ever.”

Papa didn’t say anything right away. He just walked along looking down at the ground. Then in a low, deep voice, he said, “Son, if you really want that pony and gun—really want them—I’m pretty sure that someday you’ll have them.”

I could hardly believe what I was hearing.

“Do you really believe that, Papa?” I said. “Do you really think that someday I’ll have a pony and a gun?”

“I sure do,” Papa said, nodding his head. “I believe a boy can have anything in life that he wants once he starts working for it. The main thing is not to give up. It makes no difference how tough things get, just bow your back, keep working, and put your heart and soul into it. As you go along your way, live a good clean life, don’t hurt anyone or anything, and always be honest. It doesn’t hurt to pray a little, too. If you do all of those things—someday you’ll have your pony and gun. You’ll get help when you least expect it.”

“Help?” I said. “Who’s going to help me?”

Papa looked at me and smiled. “I think I’ll let you figure that out,” he said.

I was still trying to figure out what Papa meant when we opened the door to our blacksmith shop. Rowdy had followed us from the house. When he saw where we were going, he stuck his tail between his legs and went back. He didn’t like the flying sparks and the ringing anvil. He just didn’t like things like that.

T
hirty minutes later, Papa and I had our old blacksmith shop ringing. About that time, I looked through the open door and saw Daisy come out of the house and start up the trail to her playhouse. Rowdy was with her. He was walking along in front of her, wagging his tail as if he didn’t have a worry in the world. Daisy was hobbling along on her old crutch and was carrying a broom. Every few steps she would poke Rowdy in his rump with the broom and he seemed to be liking it. He was wiggling all over and snapping at the broom straws.