* * * * *
In the afternoon Gramp was playing he was a bad Indian and trying to
scalp me when a strange car drove in our yard.
Mr. Van and two men with badges got out.
Mr. Van was real mad. "We've come after the money, Bill," he said.
Gramp got white. He was scared, but he said, loud, "What the hell are
you talking about?"
"You know what, Bill," Mr. Van said. "Someone saw you break into the
store. It will go easier on you if you admit it."
"I told you I don't know what you're talking about," Gramp said. His
eyes moved kind of quick. Then he noticed me and he walked over to
me. "That's a fine way to talk in front of the boy," he said over his
shoulder. He took my hand. "Come on, Chum. We're going in the house."
"Just a minute," the biggest policeman said. "We've got a few questions
that we have to ask you."
Gramp made believe he was brushing some dirt from my pants. "Did anyone
see me take the money, Chum?" he whispered to me.
"No," I said, even though I didn't understand exactly. "Mr. Van is just
pretending he knows you took it but he doesn't."
"Good boy." Gramp patted me on the head. "Go into the house now."
He turned and walked back to the three men, pushing his wooden leg into
the ground hard. I didn't go in the house, though.
"Now I've had just about enough of this," Gramp said, with a big frown
on his face. "You can't bluff me, Van. Say what you got to say, and
get off my property."
Mr. Van's shoulders seemed to sag and he got sad. He made the pictures
in his mind of Mrs. Van being dead and being put in a big hole.
It made me so sorry I couldn't stand it, and I cried, "Tell him you got
his money under the seat in our car! Please, Gramp! Give it back to
him."
Nobody said anything, but everybody turned and looked at me.
They stood real still. I saw in Gramp's mind that I had been bad, bad.
I ran to him and put my face in his coat and began to cry. I couldn't
help it.
After a minute Gramp knelt on his good knee in front of me and took my
cheeks in both his hands.
"I've let you down, Chum," he said. He wasn't mad any more.
He picked me up in his arms. "You needed me, Little Joe," he said. "You
needed me." His eyes were all smudgy. He squeezed me so hard I couldn't
breathe, almost.
Then he put me down and said, "Come on," to the two policemen. He
walked away between them.
Gramp!
The pictures in his mind were awful. I could hardly bear to look at
them.
The worst picture was--me.