“What’cha doin’ tomorrow?” Billy Joe asked, knowing that he and Jack would probably be doing the same as always, biking, hiking or fishing.
“My Uncle Red and Aunt Bert are comin’ in this afternoon so I suspect we’ll be sittin’ around talkin’ to them,” Jack replied.
“You can’t get out of that?”
“I don’t wanna get out of it,” Jack said. “My Uncle Red is a traveling salesman for a wholesale hardware company out of New Orleans. He covers Mississippi, Alabama and Arkansas. Lots of strange things happen to him and I love to hear him tell about it.”
“Why haven’t I ever met your Uncle Red?”
“When he comes, it’s usually after dark and the next day he leaves early to see some more customers or he goes fishing.”
“Goes fishing?” Billy Joe questioned.
“Yeah—he owns a fishin’ camp at Wilkerson’s Ferry on the Pascagoula River and another one on the locks up at Demopolis, Alabama. He loves to fish. I think he must be the best fisherman in the world.”
“Prob’ly not,” Billy Joe offered, “but I’d like to meet him and talk about fishin’.”
“Maybe you could come over tonight for a little while,” Jack suggested, “and you can meet him. He and Daddy usually talk about pipe and fixtures and other hardware but Uncle Red’s favorite thing to do is fish.”
“Your daddy doesn’t fish so I’ll bet we can get your Uncle Red talkin’ on fishin’ with us for a while.”
“My daddy does go to Red’s camp at Wilkerson’s Ferry sometimes but that’s just so he can talk to Red, I think.”
“When I’m a grown man, I’m gonna have a fishing camp everywhere there’s good fishin’,” Billy Joe declared.
“Yeah, me too,” Jack seconded the thought. “You just keep reading those comic books. I’m gonna ask Momma if you can come over tonight to meet my Uncle Red.”
He left Billy Joe in his bedroom reading
Captain Marvel
and went to find his mother. He found her in the kitchen talking to his daddy.
“What’s goin’ on, Jack?” his father asked. “Where’s Billy Joe?”
“He’s in my room reading comic books. Can he come over tonight to meet Uncle Red?”
“Do you mean for supper or to spend the night or what?” his mother asked.
“I just meant, just come over and meet Red and then go home,” Jack said, “but if he could eat supper and spend the night that would be really good.”
Jack’s mother and father looked at each other and laughed.
“You stepped into that one, Millie,” his father said.
“Well, I don’t care,” she said. “We’re havin’ a platter of chicken fried cubed steaks, mashed potatoes and vegetables. There ought to be plenty.”
“There you go, Jack,” his father ended the discussion. “Go tell Billy Joe to ask his mother if it’s all right with her.”
“Helen will call me to see if it’s okay or I may call her first so she’ll know Billy Joe has, indeed, been asked.”
“Thank you, ma’am, sir,” Jack said, leaving the room before they could change their minds.
“My momma’s gonna call your momma and ask if you can have supper with us and spend the night,” Jack said, entering his bedroom where Billy Joe was still perched on one of the twin beds reading a comic book.
“Hot dog!” Billy Joe said. “This is workin’ out good. Momma will prob’ly let me spend the night but I doubt if she was gonna let me come over here after dark to meet your Uncle Red.”
The bedroom door opened and Jack’s mother came in.
“I just talked to your momma, Billy Joe. She said you can have supper and spend the night but she wants you to come home first to clean up and get some pajamas and your toothbrush.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you,” Billy Joe properly responded.
As soon as his mother had left the room, Jack said, “Let’s go to your house and get your junk. Then we can come back here and read comic books until Uncle Red comes.”
They left the house on a run, mounted their bicycles and disappeared up Court Street toward Billy Joe’s house.
At Billy Joe’s house, his mother informed him that he had to take a bath, comb his hair and put on clean clothes.
“Aw, Momma, I just had a bath yesterday. I don’t need one today,” Billy Joe protested.
“Boy, don’t argue with me or I won’t let you go a’tall,” she said firmly. “You are not goin’ over to spend the night at Millie’s house as dirty as you are. Now scoot. Get in there and scrub yourself good.”
After he had gotten his bath, combed his hair and smelled much better, he said to Jack, “I hope your Uncle Red is worth all this.”
It was just after seven that evening when Red and Bert pulled up in front of the house. Jack’s father and mother went out to meet them, where hugs were exchanged all around. Jack endured a hug from each of them and Bert said, “Boy, you are growin’ like a weed. You’re gonna be taller than me soon.”
Jack didn’t know why all adults felt like they had to say that. They couldn’t see him grow.
“And this,” Millie said, “is Jack’s best friend, Billy Joe.”
“Sir—ma’am,” Billy Joe said.
Red nodded to Billy Joe, and Bert said, “I’ve heard Jack speak of you, Billy Joe. I’m glad to finally meet you.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am,” Billy Joe replied self-consciously.
They all went into the house with Jack and Billy Joe bringing their luggage.
Jack’s father made drinks for the adults using the Canadian Club from the pantry with Coca-Cola. Jack wondered if it was actually Canadian Club or if it was from that “keg of evidence” the sheriff gave his father.
Red and Bert seemed to like it either way.
After supper and coffee, the men went into the living room while the women cleaned up the supper dishes. The boys followed the men and sat on the floor so they could get in the conversation if it turned to fishing.
“So,” Red said, “you boys are best friends.”
“Yes, sir,” Jack answered. “Since school has been out, we have spent most of our time fishing.” Jack was anxious to change the subject to fishing.
Jack’s father chuckled at the obvious attempt.
“You’ve got some good fishin’ in this area, that’s for sure,” Red said. “Where do y’all go?”
“Mostly in the creeks but sometimes out to the Leaf River when our mommas will let us,” Billy Joe said.
“They would live on that river if we let them,” Jack’s father said.
“How about Bogue Homa Lake? Don’t y’all ever go up there?” Red asked. “That’s some of the best shellcracker fishin’ in this state.”
No, sir,” Jack said. “We have to get there on our bikes, when our mommas will let us, and Bogue Homa is such a big lake with lily pads all around its bank, you need a boat.”
“Well, I tell you what, boys,” Red said. “You dig us a keg of worms and I’ll come down here and take you both to Bogue Homa Lake fishing.”
“When you wanna do that?” Jack asked.
“Heah, Jack,” Jack’s father admonished. “Don’t pin Red down. He’s a busy man.”
“Naw,” Red said. “You just call me when you are ready and I’ll tell you when I can come down here and we’ll for sure go.”
With dreams of a wonderful fishing trip with Red, the boys listened to Red describe his two fishing cabins and relate some of his best fishing experiences. The boys finally went off to bed to have good fishing dreams based on Red’s experiences.
“Red,” Jesse began in a very serious tone, “do you remember Lige Garner?”
“Yeah, I do,” Red said. “Wasn’t he your top plumber when I ran the hardware store in Ellisville? And if I remember rightly, he was very good at his job.”
“He was that, but he had a bad problem with a bottle.”
“Yeah, I remember that too,” Red added. “What’s the problem with Lige?”
“He came around a few weeks ago wanting his job back. I have trained Leonard Garner, Lige’s cousin, and he is even better than Lige and Leonard doesn’t drink.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“He keeps coming around at work time some mornings and has gotten to the point where he almost demands his job back. If it hadn’t been for Leonard getting between us on one occasion, I think I would have had to defend myself physically.”
“Jesse, call the sheriff on that fool,” Red almost insisted.
“I did speak to the deputy assigned to Ellisville and he said there was not much he could do as long as Lige only asked for a job and didn’t attack me.”
“You got a pistol, Jesse?”
“No, I don’t, and I’d rather find another way to handle it if I can.”
“Yeah, I know you would like to handle it that way, but sometimes you can’t,” Red advised. “If he were a younger man, I think I’d go to his father, brothers or other relatives to get them to talk to him. That still might do some good. Sooner or later, you’re gonna have to call the sheriff and insist he come get this fellow.”
Jesse let it go at that.
The next morning at breakfast, the boys wanted to talk about the fishing trip they were planning to Bogue Homa Lake but they didn’t get a chance to get into the conversation.
Red and Bert hugged everybody, got into their car and drove away. They always left a warm feeling. It was a definite pleasure to have been with them.
“Daddy, we need a keg,” Jack said. “Do you have one we can get?”
“Yeah, I think so. What do you want it for?”
“Uncle Red said when we dig a keg of worms, he will take us to Bogue Homa Lake, fishin’,” Jack explained. “We wanna get started diggin’ worms.”
Jack’s father laughed. “Boys—that was just one of Red’s exaggerations. He didn’t actually mean for you to dig a full keg of worms. Nobody could use that many.”
“Well, we wanna make sure,” Jack said. “If we dig a keg full, he will have to come take us to the lake.”
“You know, you’re right,” he said, thinking about the joke it would be on Red when he saw a full keg of worms. “Come on around to the garage and we’ll see if we’ve got a keg in good enough shape to hold worms.”
The three walked around the house to the garage. Under the platform that led from the breezeway, there were four kegs. Jack’s father looked over each and decided on one.
“This one should hold your worms satisfactorily,” he said. “Just make sure you keep the worms covered with good rich dirt and sprinkle in a little water every day—not a lot of water, though. You don’t want to drown them.”
“He said a keg of worms,” Jack remembered. “Do you think he meant worms with dirt in them or a keg of nothing but worms?”
“Yeah, I wondered that myself,” Billy Joe responded.
“Come on, boys,” Jack’s father said. “He was pulling your leg when he said ‘a keg of worms.’ He will expect you to put dirt in the keg. The worms will die if you don’t. Besides, how can you three use a keg of worms in a day of fishing?”
“Just the same,” Jack said, “we had better get as many worms in the keg as we can. That’s what he said he wanted to take us to Bogue Homa.”
Billy Joe nodded his agreement.
“Okay then,” Jack’s father said. “Why don’t you start with that pile of boards under the seedling pecan tree in the chicken yard. Just pick up the boards and lean them against the back of the chicken house so they will dry. Then dig where the boards were. There should be plenty of worms in that rich soil.”
“Yeah,” agreed Jack, handing the keg to Billy Joe and picking up a round-bladed shovel from the corner. “Let’s go, Billy Joe.”
“Start out by putting a couple shovels of dirt in the bottom of the keg,” his father said as they walked away.
In the chicken yard, the boys found the boards and a three-foot-by-five-foot RC Cola sign. They moved the boards, leaning them against the back of the chicken house. They laid the RC Cola sign on top of the chicken house to get it out of the way.
“Let me dig first,” Billy Joe said.
“Well, you better start digging then. With your big mouth you’re gonna scare them all to China.”
“Aw, that ain’t so. Worms ain’t got no ears,” Billy Joe defended himself.
“No”—Jack continued to make up a story to tease Billy Joe—“but they feel the vibrations of your words.”
“You’re pullin’ my leg,” Billy Joe protested.
“Naw, up at Bronson’s worm farm at Pendorf, their biggest problem is worm stampedes,” Jack continued the story.
“Jack, the Devil’s gonna get you for telling lies like that,” Billy Joe said.
“The next time you are up there, you ask them,” Jack fabricated. “When it lightnings and thunders, it vibrates those metal troughs they keep them in and they all start trying to get out. It takes all their people to keep throwing them back in the troughs until the thunderstorm is over.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Would I lie about a thing like that?” Jack lied.
The boys took turns digging in the rich earth and found several hundred worms—just enough to let them see how many a keg would hold.
In the next week, they visited all the places where they had dug worms in the past and some new ones they had not.
They also developed a routine for taking care of their worms. They kept the keg in the shade under the back steps of the house and every afternoon at three Jack sprinkled in exactly a half cup of water.
Jack covered the keg with an old towel his mother gave him and secured it with a rubber band made out of an old inner tube he found in the garage.
Each day, the boys would add a layer of worms and a couple inches of rich dirt to the keg.
Finally, they decided that they now had a ‘keg of worms.’
“What do we do now?” Billy Joe asked.
“Tonight I get Daddy to call Uncle Red.”
“When we gonna ask him to come take us fishing?” Billy Joe asked.
“We’re not,” Jack said. “He said that we should call him after we get a keg of worms and he would come take us fishing when he can. He has to work, you know.”
“When will your daddy call him?”
“I ’spec’ he will call right after supper tonight,” Jack said. “I’ll make it sound kinda urgent, like maybe the worms are dying or somethin’.”
“Just say you’re not too sure about the worms stayin’ alive. That’s possible. He knows more about worms than we do so you can’t fool him saying they are, for sure, dying.”
“Yeah, okay,” Jack said to that strange logic.
After supper, Jack asked his dad to call Uncle Red and tell him they had the keg of worms.
“Okay, I’ll call him but remember, he’s working and may not be able to get here to take you fishing for quite a while. Don’t be disappointed if that’s what he says.”