The next mornin' when I got down to breakfast, everybody had et and
grandpa had gone down the road where the tenant was buildin' a fence. So
I took my kite and went way into the middle of the pasture and sent her
up. Then I lay on the grass and watched her sail and drift and looked
over at the Mason County Hills, that seemed so mysterious and quiet and
never ending. By and by I thought I heard somebody callin' me--and there
was. It was grandma. So I hollered back and drew in my kite, and went to
the house. And there was my pa. He looked so powerful, and his voice was
so deep, and he was so full of fun. You'd never thought he was the same
man who was beside hisself over Little Billie. And he was awful glad to
see me, and took me on his knee and pulled out a knife he had brought me
for a present. Of course grandpa wouldn't say anything about that sign
in front of my pa--it warn't the place and didn't fit in. But, anyway,
grandpa seemed himself again. So I sat down and listened to 'em talk.
Before they had got very far my grandpa said he'd seen slavery abolished
and the time warn't far off when hard drink would be done away with. I
was eyein' my pa close, for I knew he drank a beer now and then, and I
wanted to see what he'd say. But he didn't say nothin'. He just looked
calm, and as grandpa went right on talkin', it would have been
interruptin' if my pa did say anything. So he got over that place in
the conversation without any trouble. Later, just before dinner, I saw
grandma give pa a drink of blackberry wine and take a little herself.
She came from a different part of Kentucky from what grandpa did. And
yet they lived happy. It was because she was so smart and like a piece
of oiled leather that bends and don't crack.
Well, as I said, I sat listenin' to my pa and grandpa talk--awful
interesting too. Pa was tellin' about "Pinafore"; but grandpa kind o'
smiled in a forced way, because he didn't believe in shows. But pretty
soon it came out that Joe Rainey had been killed the night before, and
Temple Scott had killed him, which boarded at their house. And so I knew
there was another case. And I said to myself, it's lucky I was here, for
if I'd been in town, most likely Mitch and me would have been around
sommers and been witnesses, and got into another tangle, to keep us from
goin' to see Tom Sawyer.
It was this a way, as pa told it. Joe Rainey was drinkin' and he and
Temple Scott was always the best of friends, but when he was drinkin' he
always quarreled with Scott and threatened him. Then my pa says: "His
threats came to nothin'. He wouldn't harm a child. He's threatened me a
hundred times. I never paid any attention to him. Every one knows he was
harmless."
They were practicin' "Pinafore" at Joe Rainey's house--my pa, my ma, and
just as my pa was singin':
The merry, merry maiden, the merry, merry maiden,
The merry, merry maiden and the tar,
all of a sudden they heard a shot, and then another shot, and somebody
opened the door, and there was Joe Rainey lyin' on the porch, almost
dead--unconscious, and bleedin'. And Temple Scott had stood his ground
and said that Rainey had threatened to kill him, and had drawn his
pistol first, and that he shot him in self-defense. My grandpa
interrupted to talk about the sin of drink and what it makes people do.
Then pa went on to say that they searched Joe Rainey's pocket and
couldn't find his pistol; that later they searched the house and his
office and couldn't find his pistol, and the wonder was where it was.
And pa said he didn't believe he had a pistol, at least with him at the
time. But Mrs. Rainey said that her husband had come into the house
earlier in the evening and got the pistol. But pa said that Mrs. Rainey
was too sweet on Temple, and he didn't believe her, and he intended to
prosecute Temple Scott as hard as he could and hang him. Then he said
that this broke up the practicin' of "Pinafore," that Mrs. Rainey was
goin' to play Josephine, but now that her husband was killed, she
couldn't. That they all went home, and that the town was full of talk
over it, and where the pistol was if Joe Rainey ever had one.
Well, Joe Rainey had died about one o'clock that mornin', beggin' every
one not to let him fall asleep for fear he wouldn't wake up no more.
They had give him ether or somethin' and so he kept gettin' drowsier and
drowsier, and finally died in his sleep.
So my pa and grandpa talked till noon--most wonderful talk; and then we
had dinner and grandma told more funny stories than you ever heard, and
had the best time in the world. And after dinner, grandpa hitched up the
horses and drove pa to Atterberry to catch the train for Havaner. But pa
wouldn't take me. He says, "No, sir, you stay here and get well, and
mind your grandma and help her. If you don't, I'll whale you. And I'll
come for you a week from Saturday, maybe."
That settled that, I was afraid. "Well, then," I said, "will you tell
Mitch that I'll be back a week from Saturday?" He said he would, and I
made up my mind to it.
What do you suppose, when we got to Atterberry, there was Willie Wallace
in charge of a freight train which had side-tracked for the passenger
goin' to Havaner. You can't imagine how funny it seemed to see him
talkin' to the conductor and everything; and how funny it seemed that I
knowed him so well, since I had seen him plow and drive a team and all
that on the farm.
"How do you like it?" says I to Willie.
"No more farm for me," says Willie.
"Ain't you afeard? Ain't it dangerous?"
"Yes, it's dangerous," says he. "But look at the pay. And then look at
the fun. One night it's Springfield, the next night Peoria--always
somethin' new."
Just then the passenger train whistled, and Willie got up and began to
motion to the engineer on his train. I went back to the platform and
said good-by to pa. And then we drove back to the farm.