John Fitzgerald (8 page)

   
"Papa promised me a dollar if I could
help make Frankie well in a week," I said.

   
Mamma shook her head. "I am sorry,
son, but the boy is too dangerous to keep here for a week," she said.
"I'm afraid Frankie needs the sort of help only Doctor Lieberman can give
him. I'll have your father take him to Salt Lake City on the Monday morning
train. Until then I will have Bertha take care of him during the day. And your
father, Bertha, and I will take turns watching him during the night."

   
"But Papa has to get out his
newspaper," I protested. "And why not wait until we find out if
Frankie has some relatives?"

   
"My mind is made up," Mamma said
with determination. "Meanwhile, you are not to play with Frankie. I'll
have Bertha take care of him. And you are to stay far enough away from him so
he cannot harm you. Is that understood, John D.?"

   
In every court in the country anybody can
appeal a decision right up to the Supreme Court of the United States. But no
kid in the whole United States can appeal any decision his mother makes.

   
I followed Mamma into the kitchen. Aunt
Bertha wasn't there. We found her sitting on the back porch holding Frankie in
her lap.

   
"Bertha," Mamma said. "Tell
Frankie he must remain on the porch. Come into the kitchen. There is something
I want to discuss with you."

   
Aunt Bertha put Frankie down. "You
stay right on this porch," she said to him.

   
I could tell by the look on his face that
he didn't like it. But he folded his arms on his chest and sat in the old chair
on our back porch.

   
I went to the barn and climbed up the rope
ladder to Tom's loft. Mamma had ordered me not to play with Frankie or get near
enough to him to get hurt in any way. This was one place I felt perfectly safe.
I sure hated to lose that dollar Papa had promised me. I lay down on my stomach
to think about it. The more I thought about it the more convinced I became that
Mamma was right. When a fellow tries to protect himself with a football suit
and helmet and a catcher's mask and still gets hurt, it is time to give up. I
was now convinced that the accident had turned Frankie into a maniac who
wouldn't rest until he'd killed Papa, Mamma, and me.

   
I was lying on my stomach facing the top of
the rope ladder when I though for sure I was having a
daymare
,
or whatever they call a nightmare that you have in the daytime. I saw the black
hair first and then the big dark eyes. And I'll be a four-eyed bullfrog if I
wasn't staring right into Frankie's face. I hadn't been able to climb up the
rope ladder until I was five years old. I was so sure it was a dream that I
reached out and touched him on the head. Then I knew I wasn't dreaming.

   
I started to tell him to climb back down
the ladder but didn't. I was afraid he would fall. It is always harder to go
down a ladder than to go up because you have to watch your feet. I reached down
and got hold of him under the armpits and lifted him onto the loft. Then I sat
down on a box and just stared at him. He walked around the loft looking at
things and touching them. He even touched the skull of the Indian. I kept an
eye on him so he couldn't pick up something and throw it at me. I knew I had to
get him down from the loft. Although Aunt Bertha was supposed to be watching
him, if anything happened to him it would be my fault. I waited until he had
seen everything in the loft and sat down on a box.

   
"Frankie," I said, "Aunt
Bertha will be worried about you. And it is time for her to give you a glass of
milk and some cookies. You climb on my back and put your arms around my neck
and hold on tight. I'll carry you down the rope ladder."

   
He got up and walked to the edge of the
loft and looked down. I guess he was wondering if he should try to climb down
the ladder by himself. Then he got on my back and put his arms around my neck.
I carried him down the rope ladder. He let go and dropped to the ground. He
thanked me by kicking me on the shins. I grabbed his hand and pulled him out of
the barn.

"Now you
beat it back to Aunt Bertha," I ordered him.

   
He just folded his arms on his chest and
glared at me. I ran back into the barn. I climbed up the rope ladder as quickly
as I could. Then I pulled the rope ladder up to the loft. I made it just in
time. I looked over the edge. Frankie came into the barn and stood staring up
at the loft.

   
"You can't get at me now, you little
monster," I shouted at him. "Maybe I'll just live up here until Papa
takes you to Salt Lake City."

 
  
I lay
down on my back and stared up at the roof. It wasn't a bad idea at that. Mamma
could give me a couple of blankets and a pillow. She could put my meals in a
bucket and I could haul it up with
Sweyn's
lariat. I
heard our milk cow start mooing. I looked over the edge of the loft again.

   
Frankie had the barn door open. He was
leading our milk cow out of the barn. That didn't worry me. I figured he was
taking the cow to the water trough in the corral for a drink of water. In a
couple of minutes he came back and led
Sweyn's
mustang, Dusty, out of the barn. Then he came back and led our team of horses
out. I knew he'd been raised on a farm and thought he probably helped his
brother water their livestock. And I knew our own livestock couldn't get out of
the corral. So it didn't bother me.

   
But I did become worried when I heard
Brownie barking. It was an alarm bark. Any boy who owns a dog can tell the
difference in the way his dog barks. It might be a happy bark like when you are
playing with him. It might be an excited bark like when you are rabbit hunting
and he sees a rabbit. It might be a thank you bark when you feed him. And there
are many other kinds of barks a kid will recognize. I knew Brownie's bark was
an alarm bark. He was telling me something was wrong. I climbed down the rope
ladder and ran out of the barn. My dog was sure right. The corral gate was
open. Our milk cow, the team of horses, and Dusty were all gone. We had a
chicken run made from wire fence because Mamma didn't like chickens running all
over our yard. The gate was open. Frankie was chasing all the chickens out of
the chicken run.

   
I knew I'd get the blame for all this even
though Aunt Bertha was supposed to be watching Frankie. It would take me a long
time to round up our livestock and all the chickens. I thought about this and
all the things Frankie had done to me. Then I got a mental block of my own. I
was so angry I could actually see red, and in the middle of that red was
Frankie. I ran over and grabbed him by the wrist as he was coming out of the
gate of the chicken run.

   
"Now you are going to get it!" I
said. "Papa and Mamma will give me the silent treatment for a month for
letting the livestock and chickens get out. And they will take away my
allowance for a year for what I'm going to do for you. But I don't care. It
will be worth it to teach you a lesson, you little monster."

   
He began to kick and fight. I dragged him
into our woodshed. I picked up a flat piece of kindling wood to use as a
paddle. I sat down on the chopping block and threw him over my knees. I let him
have a hard whack on the behind with the paddle. "That was for hitting me
on the head with my shoe," I said.

   
I gave him another hard whack. "That
was for kicking me on the shins," I said.

  
 
I
gave him another good whack. "That was for kicking me on the shins,"
I said.

   
I gave him another whack. "That was
for belting me on the head with the stick of firewood," I said.

   
Then I gave him three hard whacks in a row.
"That was for throwing rocks at me," I said.

   
Frankie let out a scream. That made me feel
good because I knew I was hurting the little monster.

   
I gave him three more hard whacks while he
screamed bloody murder. "That was for letting the livestock and chickens
out," I said.

   
He was really bawling as I gave him three
more whacks just in case I'd forgotten anything. Then I let him go.

   
He ran crying and yelling out of the
woodshed. I walked out after him. Mamma and Aunt Bertha had heard him and were
running toward the woodshed, Aunt Bertha in the lead.

"John
spanked me!" Frankie screamed.

   
Aunt Bertha stooped over and held out her
arms. Frankie ran right by her and into Mamma's arms, carrying on as if I'd
tried to murder him.

   
It took me more than an hour to round up
the livestock and chickens. Then it was time to go inside and discover what my
punishment would be for spanking Frankie.

   
I walked to the back porch and into the
kitchen. It was empty. I could hear Papa's voice in the parlor and I thought Mamma
must not have been able to wait till suppertime for him to hand down his
punishment. She must have telephoned him and told him I'd spanked Frankie. I
squared my shoulders. I felt like a man going to face a firing squad as I
walked into the parlor.

  
 
Mamma
was sitting in her maple rocker holding Frankie on her lap. Papa was sitting in
his rocking chair. Aunt Bertha and Doctor
LeRoy
were
sitting on the couch. Instead of hostile looks I was greeted by smiling faces.
I couldn't figure it out. And I'll be a yellow blackbird if Papa didn't take
out his purse and remove a silver dollar and hold it out toward me.

"You did it,
J.D.," Papa said.

   
I was so stunned I couldn't think straight.
"Did what?" I asked.

   
"The spanking you gave Frankie made
him cry," Papa said, "and that enabled him to let out all the grief
and terror bottled up inside him. You broke his mental block and made him
remember."

I took the dollar
from Papa and sat down.

   
"Does he remember what happened in Red
Rock Canyon?" I asked.

"I
remember," Frankie said.

   
Mamma kissed Frankie on the top of the
head. "He was hysterical for about half an hour," she said.
"Just crying and screaming. And then he began to talk. He remembers
everything now."

   
I was so curious I thought I would burst.
"Will somebody please tell me how Frankie escaped from the
landslide?" I pleaded.

   
Dr.
LeRoy
said,
"Let him tell you himself, John. The more he talks about it the
better."

   
Frankie slid off Mamma's lap and walked
over and stood in front of me. "You spanked me, John," he said,
"but I'll tell you anyway."

   
I watched his eyes, red from crying, grow
wide and his lips begin to tremble.

    
"Papa said we were going to town for
supplies," he said. "Mamma didn't want to go because it was raining.
Papa said we had to go. In the canyon was a big rock on the road so the wagon
couldn't pass. Papa got the crowbar from the wagon. Papa always took a crowbar
to move the big rocks when we went to town. Papa started to move the big rock.
My brother Willie and
me
were standing in the road
watching. There was a noise like a big thunder. Willie grabbed my hand and we
began running up the road. Willie looked back. He said the slide was below the
wagon and he was going back to help Papa unhitch the team because they couldn't
turn the wagon around on the road. Willie told me to keep running up the road
until I couldn't run any more."

   
Frankie began to breathe heavily as he
relived the terrible experience. "I kept running until I heard a big noise
that hurt my ears," he continued, his face becoming very pale. "I
stopped and turned around. Papa and Willie were unhitching the team and Mamma
was waiting for them. Then the mountain fell down and they were all gone."
Tears came into his eyes. "They are all
deaded
,"
he said softly.

   
I wasn't aware I was crying until Frankie
reached up and brushed my cheek with his fingers and I felt
a
wetness
there.

   
"Why are you crying, John?" he
asked. "It is my Mamma and Papa and brother who are
deaded
and not yours."

"I just feel
like crying," I said.

   
Papa said, "There is no doubt there
were two slides, one below where they were and the bigger one right over
them."

   
Dr.
LeRoy
cleared
his throat. "I didn't want to alarm your father or mother, John," he
said, "but it is fortunate Frankie is very young. An older person seeing
such a terrible thing happen to their family might not ever have
recovered." I stood up. "I've got to go do my chores now," I
said. "Can I help?" Frankie asked.