The True Blue Scouts of Sugar Man Swamp (22 page)

I, SONNY BOY BEAUCOUP,

TURN OVER THIS WHOLE DARNED

SWAMP TO CHAPARRAL BRAYBURN.

GOOD RIDDANCE.

SIGNED,

SONNY BOY BEAUCOUP

He nailed it to the front door, where someone would surely find it. And as if the swamp itself wanted to seal the deal, when Sonny Boy ran his hands through his hair, there, tucked just behind his right ear, was a beautiful black feather with a white tip.

Last we heard, Sonny Boy was living in a desert area, someplace like Phoenix. Do we care? Not a whit.

A
S FOR
B
UZZIE AND
C
LYDINE
,
word on the street is that as soon as they brushed themselves off from their trips to outer space, they gathered up their brood and hightailed it to Arkansas, where they hired themselves out as mascots for some of the local high school football teams.

We've heard that none of them will ever again put one bite of sugar into their porky little mouths.

It's not out of the range of possibilities.

W
E
'
RE ALMOST TO THE FINISH
line, sports fans, so hang in. When Bingo and J'miah, their bellies full of crawdads, wandered back to the DeSoto, rain was beginning to fall, so they scampered in through the entryway of the passenger side. They were pooped. It had been a long few days, and both of them were ready for a nice summer snooze.

As soon as they entered the car, they noticed three things.

First: “Breaking and entering,” declared J'miah.

Quickly, he looked around to see if anything had been taken. He checked his beloved photos. He loved the surprised look on the armadillo's face. He was also glad to see the photo of the bird, even though it wasn't a bird he recognized. And still in its place stood the photo of the Sugar Man. All three photos were right where he had left them. Whew!

The second thing they noticed was the distinctly human smell in the air, which explained the breaking and entering.

But the third thing they noticed was the other smell—sugar pies! Sure enough, there they were, two sugar pies, resting on the dashboard.

The brothers looked at each other in surprise. Bingo started laughing.

“Blinkle!” he said. “Our wishes came true!”

N
OW, ALL IS WELL IN
Radioland, so far as we know. The cane has grown back. The rattlers are just as spicy as ever. The armadillos are surprised. J'miah has learned a song or two on the Marine Band music thingie. He's no Snooky Pryor, but he's getting there. Sweetums has finally come out of the closet. Steve got his phone back. Once the porch was repaired, the Old Beaucoup Homestead was turned into the Museum of Natural Swamp History. And the pies kick booty.

As for the ivory-billed woodpecker, since those old trees were left to stand, and the Sugar Man Swamp is safe from marauding hogs and merciless Beaucoups, maybe that woodpecker will return someday and bring her family with her. We're hoping. Lord God, we are.

There is only one unanswered question . . . the one about the photo of the Sugar Man. The moment Chap saw it, he knew . . . it could save the swamp.

And it might have, even without the flying hogs. But
while Chap sat there in his grandpa's beloved car, staring at proof of the Sugar Man, he also realized that the photo could stir up that swarm of hornets that Audie had warned him about.

When word got out that the Sugar Man was still extant, the thrill-seekers would flock to the swamp. A gazillion rattlesnakes would not keep their kind away. Nothing would be safe from their ropes and axes and shotguns.

How, Chap asked, could he do that to his grandpa's swamp? Wait. How could he do it to
his
swamp? An image of the drawing his grandpa had made of the greater roadrunner flashed into Chap's head. And when it did, he heard Audie's voice,
Nosotros somos, paisanos!

Taking care not to bump the other two photos, Chap set the one of the Sugar Man back on the dashboard, right next to the sugar pies. Then he stepped out of the car and with his back, leaned against the door until it closed. He stretched his arms out wide and declared, “This is paradise.” And with that, our man of the household walked away. It was, we can safely say, a very good idea.

O
FTEN, WRITING A STORY FEELS
like a wade through a swamp. I might still be mucking about were it not for the kind assistance of my fellow
paisanos
: Debbie Leland, Laini Bostian, Jeanette Ingold, Rebecca Kai Dotlich, Kimberly Willis Holt, Marion Dane Bauer, Janet Fox, Donna Cooner, Diane Linn, Rose Eder, and Dennis Foley.

Right in the middle of the deepest, darkest lair, my agent, Holly McGhee, sent me a heart when my heart was breaking.

My editor, Caitlyn Dlouhy, was never afraid to wrestle the alligators, even when they gathered in the margins and lurked between the lines.

Elizabeth Harper Neeld listened while I told her about the raccoons and the car and the radio before I even wrote a single word. She was the one who said I needed pies. Oh, yes, pies were needed.

Also needed were answers about Hummers, which Phil at LA Custom Coaches provided. Thank you, Phil.

For answers about the DeSoto automobile, Dave Duricy manages a website called DeSotoLand:
duricy.com/~desoto/
.

I am indebted to the late J. Frank Dobie, for his 1939 essay, “The Roadrunner in Fact and Folklore,” for background on the chaparral. And for all things IBWO, no one writes more passionately than Phillip Hoose. His book,
The Race to Save the Lord God Bird
, has had an honorary place on our coffee table for years.

Gratitude goes to my sweet husband, Ken, who sat beside me while I read the whole thing through out loud and helped me catch a boatload of mistakes. Jeannie Ng, copy editor extraordinaire, helped me correct those mistakes. It's safe to say, she saved my bacon. My mom, Pat Childress, laughed just when I needed to hear some laughter.

My biggest thanks goes to Cynthia Leitich Smith, who sent me an e-mail that said simply, “Write something funny.” At first, I didn't understand. But now I do.

Also by Kathi Appelt

Keeper

The Underneath

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• This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. • Copyright ©2013 by Kathi Appelt • Jacket illustration copyright ©2013 by Jennifer Bricking. • Jacket design by Dan Potash• Jacket illustration by Jennifer Bricking• All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. •
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. • Design by Dan Potash • The text for this book is set in Adobe Caslon Pro. • 0613 FFG • First Edition • Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data • Appelt, Kathi, 1954– • The true blue scouts of Sugar Man Swamp / Kathi Appelt. — 1st ed. • p. cm. • Summary: Twelve-year-old Chap Brayburn, ancient Sugar Man, and his raccoon-brother Swamp Scouts Bingo and J'miah, try to save Bayou Tourterelle from feral pigs Clydine and Buzzie, greedy Sunny Boy Beaucoup, and world-class alligator wrestler and would-be land developer Jaeger Stitch. • ISBN 978-1-4424-2105-9 • ISBN 978-1-4424-8121-3 (eBook) • [1. Swamps—Fiction. 2. Land developers—Fiction. 3. Swamp animals—Fiction. 4. Raccoons—Fiction. 5. Scouting (Youth activity)—Fiction. 6. Humorous stories.] • I. Title. • PZ7.A6455Tru 2013 • [Fic]—dc23 • 2012023723