Summer of the Monkeys (29 page)

“What is it?” Daisy asked as she opened the sack.

“It’s candy,” I said. “Grandpa gave it to us.”

Daisy looked down into the sack and her eyes lit up like a match in the dark. “Boy, howdy!” she exclaimed. “Grandpa must really be feeling good today. A whole sack full of candy!”

“I think I’ll go have a look at the monkeys,” I said. “They may need something.”

“I wouldn’t bother them, Jay Berry,” Daisy said. “They’re sleeping now. After they had eaten all they could hold, they crawled down in the straw and went to sleep.”

Just then Papa came in from doing his chores, carrying a bucket of milk. As he set the bucket on the washstand, he chuckled. “Just before I left the barn, I peeked in the corn crib,” he said. “Those monkeys are all wadded up in that straw bed, sound asleep.”

“I think we can forget about those monkeys for a while,” Mama said. “Right now we’re going to have some supper.”

While we were eating, I told them about my trip to the store.

“Jay Berry,” Daisy said, “what kind of pony are you going to pick out? What color will it be?”

“I don’t care what kind of pony it is,” I said, “or what color it is—just so it’s a pony.”

Mama got up from the table and started stacking the supper dishes.

Daisy said, “Mama, I’ll help you with the dishes.”

Papa looked at me and said, “While they’re doing the dishes, let’s go check on the monkeys.”

“Sure, Papa,” I said, “I’d like to see how they’re getting along.”

“Don’t forget what night this is,” Mama said.

“I haven’t forgotten, Mama,” Daisy said. “It’s Bible-reading night.”

In our home, three nights a week we read the Bible. It made no difference if we had company, or if one of us was sick, Mama would still read from the Bible. After she had finished reading, she would hold a question and answer period with Daisy and me.

Daisy was always full of questions.

It was different with me. I couldn’t always keep my mind on what Mama was reading. Sometimes it would take me down to the river bottoms with Rowdy, chasing rabbits; or back in the hills messing around; or sitting on the river bank with a fishing pole and a can of worms. My mind had a mind of its own and all I could do was go along with it.

It had gotten dark while we were eating. I got the lantern, lit it, and Papa and I walked out to the barn. Before we opened the corn-crib door, we stood still and listened. We couldn’t hear a thing—not even a mouse running around in the corn.

In a whisper, Papa said, “Everything must be all right. I don’t hear a thing.”

As quietly as I could, I opened the door, held the lantern up, and looked in. Jimbo raised his head out of the straw and looked at us for a second. Then he made a sleepy little noise and laid his head down again.

Papa whispered, “They’re doing fine. Let’s not bother them.”

With as little noise as possible, I closed the crib door, locked it, and we went back to the house.

Mama and Daisy were in the front room when we got back. Daisy was sitting on the floor holding a small mirror in her hand and combing her hair.

Mama was sitting in her rocking chair close to the lamp, turning the pages of our Bible. “Jay Berry,” she said, “it’s your turn to choose what you want me to read.”

“Oh, boy, here we go again,” Daisy said. “It’ll be Daniel in the Lion’s den, or David and the Giant, or when Samson took that jackass bone and killed all those people. It’ll be one of those three. It always is.”

It seemed that every Bible-reading night, Daisy and I got into an argument. I never did figure it was my fault.

“Aw, Daisy,” I said, “I like those parts of the Bible. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it, Jay Berry,” Daisy said, “but I’ve
heard those parts so many times, I have them memorized. There are a lot of other good stories in the Bible. Why can’t you choose something else?”

“All right, I will,” I said, looking at Mama. “Read that part where God opened up the river and all those people walked across and didn’t even get their feet wet.”

Daisy said, “It wasn’t a river—it was the sea.”

“What difference does it make?” I grumbled as I walked over and sat down by Daisy’s side. “It’s all water.”

As she turned the pages, Mama said, “Let’s see—that will be in Exodus.”

After Mama found the place in the Bible, she made herself comfortable in her chair and started reading. Mama was a good reader; especially, if she was reading from the Bible. For a good hour, we sat and listened to Mama read about how the Lord opened up the sea and let the good people walk over to the other side.

I really liked that part of the Bible. I thought it was wonderful how the Lord had opened up the sea. Many times while Rowdy and I were prowling the river banks I would stop and, with my arms folded, I’d stare over the river and wonder how He did it. I never could understand it.

After Mama had finished reading, and the question and answer period was over, Papa got up from his chair, stretched his arms, and yawned. “It’s bedtime,” he said. “I want to get a good night’s sleep. It should be dry enough to work in the fields tomorrow.”

I was in my room, getting ready for bed, when Daisy poked her head in the door. “Jay Berry,” she said, “when you came back from the store, what was Rowdy carrying in his mouth?”

“It was a bone,” I said. “Grandpa gave it to him.”

Daisy smiled and said, “That’s what I thought it was.”

I heard her humming a happy little tune as she went to her room.

That was a miserable night for me. I must have had a dozen dreams—good ones and bad ones.

I dreamed that the corn crib was on fire and the monkeys were screaming for help. Then I dreamed that Jimbo had opened the door and all the monkeys got out. I could see them with their tails in the air; running back to the river bottoms.

I dreamed that I was riding a beautiful pony, up and down the country roads, and far back in the green rugged hills; even way up in the clouds—riding, riding, riding.

Once I fell out of bed and it scared me half to death.

Along in the wee hours of morning, I fell asleep. The next thing I knew I was awakened by Daisy, poking me with that old crutch of hers.

“Jay Berry,” she said, “you’d better get up. Breakfast is almost ready, and things are liable to start happening around here today.”

“All right,” I said, “you don’t have to poke a hole in me with that crutch. I’m getting up.”

I heard Daisy giggle as she left my room.

When I walked into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing the sleep from my eyes, Mama looked at me and said, “Jay Berry, you look terrible. Your eyes are red and you look a little pale. Are you sick?”

“No, Mama,” I said, “I’m not sick. I dreamed all night and I didn’t sleep very good.”

Papa and Daisy were already sitting at the table.

Daisy said, “Mama, maybe you should make him stay in bed for four or five days and let me doctor him.”

“Oh, no, you won’t,” I said. “I’m not staying in bed and I don’t need any doctoring. I’ve waited a long time for this day. I’m going after my pony and I don’t want anything to mess that up.”

Papa said, “Wash your face in some cold water. That always helps. At least, it’ll wake you up.”

Our well water was as cold as a plow point in January. I poured some of it into the wash pan and washed my face. It almost took my breath away but I did feel better.

While I was drying my face, I saw that Mama was dishing up some oatmeal for me. “Mama,” I said, “I think I’ll go check on the monkeys before I eat breakfast.”

“You won’t have to do that,” Papa said. “I took care of them while I was doing chores. I gave them a fresh pan of water and some more vegetables. They’re doing fine.”

I thanked Papa and sat down at the table.

I was so nervous and excited about getting my pony, my oatmeal didn’t even taste the same that morning.

We had just about finished eating when all at once Rowdy came tearing out from under the porch, bawling his head off.

Papa looked at Mama and said, “Must be somebody coming.”

“This early in the morning?” Mama said. “I wonder who it could be.”

“Listen! What’s that?” Daisy said.

Then we all heard it, the chugging of a motor.

“Why, that sounds like a car,” Papa said.

“I think it is a car,” Mama said.

To see a car pass our home was just about as rare as seeing a white blackbird. I had seen very few of them up until then and those I had seen had passed by in a cloud of dust.

We hurried out to the porch.

Rowdy was standing in the middle of the road, with every hair on his back standing straight up, and bawling for all he was worth.

It was a car, but not like any I had seen. It had one seat and the back of it was nothing but a big box about ten feet high and ten feet long. The box was almost as wide as the road and was painted white and green.

I heard Papa say, “It’s a truck, but I’ve never seen one like that.”

“I haven’t either,” Mama said. “It looks like a house built on the back of a car.”

“I know what it is, Mama,” Daisy said. “I’ve seen pictures of them. It’s a circus truck.”

When I heard Daisy say that, a funny feeling came over me. My skin started crawling around on my bones.

Chugging and squeaking, the big truck wheezed up in front of our house and stopped.

Rowdy must have thought the truck was a booger and he didn’t want it messing around our home. Growling and showing his teeth, he darted in and bit one of the tires.

I heard Mama say in a low voice, “That crazy dog.”

On the side of the truck facing us was a picture of a huge gorilla fighting with a big snake. Above the picture, in a half-moon design, large red letters said “Johnson Brothers Circus.”

Two men got out of the truck and came over to us. One of them said, “Good morning!”

Papa nodded his head and said, “Mornin’!”

The man said, “I’m Ben Johnson. This is my brother, Tom. We’re looking for the Lee farm.”

“You’ve found it,” Papa said. “I’m Bob Lee. This is my family—my wife, Sara; my daughter, Daisy; and my boy, Jay Berry.”

The Johnson brothers were very polite. They took off their caps and nodded to Mama and Daisy. Then they shook hands with Papa and me.

I had never shaken hands with a man before and it gave me a wonderful feeling. I felt like I had grown about a foot straight up.

Ben Johnson smiled and said, “So you’re Jay Berry. Your grandpa says that you have some monkeys for me.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “They’re out in the corn crib.”

“Could we have a look at them?” Ben Johnson asked.

“Sure,” I said.

“It didn’t take you fellows long to get here,” Papa said.

“When we got that telegram, we didn’t lose any time,” Tom Johnson said. “We jumped in our truck and drove all night.”

With Rowdy in the lead, we started for the barn. On the way,
Ben Johnson explained how valuable monkeys were to a circus. He said a circus just wasn’t a circus without monkeys.

When I opened the corn-crib door, we saw Jimbo sitting on top of the corn, eating an apple. The minute he saw Ben Johnson, he dropped the apple and started grunting as he hopped up and down on his short legs. Then he raised his long arms in the air and started toward us. He jumped from the corn-crib door right into Ben Johnson’s arms.

Mr. Johnson wrapped his arms around Jimbo and buried his face in his fur. In a choking voice, he started telling him how happy he was to see him, how much he had missed him, and how much he loved him.

Jimbo whimpered like a little puppy.

I thought Mr. Johnson was going to cry.

Mama said, “I didn’t know that animals could have so much love for anyone.”

I looked at Daisy. She was leaning on that old crutch. There were tears in her eyes.

Ben Johnson looked at his brother and said, “Tom, do you think you could back the truck up to the corn crib?”

“Sure,” Tom said, “that would be easy, but I don’t know about getting through the gate. It looks a little narrow to me.”

“We can take out one panel of the rail fence,” Papa said. “You’d have plenty of room then.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” Ben Johnson said.

“Naw,” Papa said. “That’s one thing about rail fences—they’re easy to tear down and easy to put up.”

After the truck was backed up to the door, it was no trouble to load the little monkeys.

Mr. Johnson locked the truck door. He turned to me and said, “Well, Jay Berry, I guess it’s payday.”

He reached in his back pocket and got his money poke. He opened it and took out the biggest wad of money I had ever seen.

My eyes almost popped out of my head.

“Let’s see,” he said, “two times twenty-eight is fifty-six, and one hundred for Jimbo—that comes to one hundred and fifty-six dollars.”

I held out both hands and stood speechless while he stacked the money into my trembling hands. In a voice choked with emotion, I thanked him. I folded the money and crammed it down in my pocket.

I heard Daisy say in a low voice, “Mama, he’s really going to be hard to get along with now that he’s rich.”

Tom Johnson walked over to Papa with four small blue cards in his hand. “Mr. Lee, I’d like you and your family to have these,” he said. “They’re lifetime passes to our circus.”

Papa thanked him for the cards and said, “We’re poor folks and don’t get out of these hills very often; but next year when your circus comes to Tulsa, we’ll try to be there.”

“You do that,” Tom Johnson said. “Look me up and I’ll see that you don’t miss anything.”

Mama said, “Would you fellows like a cup of coffee or something to eat?”

Ben Johnson turned to Mama. “Thanks, Mrs. Lee,” he said. “We’d like that fine but I’m afraid we don’t have the time. We’re in a terrible hurry. Our circus is leaving Tulsa for Arkansas tomorrow and we have to be there.”

The Johnsons said “Good-bye” to Mama and Daisy, and shook hands with Papa and me. Then they got in their truck and took off down the road in a cloud of dust.

As I stood there in our barn lot and watched the truck disappear in the distance, a strange feeling came over me. I should have been very happy but I wasn’t. I felt a little sad and a little lonely.