Andy's Adventures and other Short Stories

Andy’s Adventures

and other

Short Stories

J H Ellison

Copyright © 2014 J. H. Ellison

All rights reserved.

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Table of Contents

Andy's Adventures

Life of a Child

Boy Scouts

Inflight Fright

MAC

Penny

Taming ASA

Buckhorn Country School

Air Force Memoirs

Charge at Antietam

Wakalski’s Spook

The Hunt

Pajarita Mystery

Kunsel Folly

Andy's Adventures

Andrew Oslin, a slender boy of twelve, sat at his classroom desk, wistfully looking out the window at Rattle Snake Mountain. Although it was only a couple of miles west of the small town of Russell, the distance seemed much greater.

He solemnly studied the distant outline of the mountain and visualized his favorite spots. It was his special place. A place in which he could swing on vines attached to trees, playing he’s Tarzan. Or, be a frontiersman like those he’d read about in James Fennimore Cooper’s books, moving silently through the forest.

Then, there was the flat bottom boat on Connors Lake he’d borrow and pretend it was a canoe on a frontier river. Andy had the vivid imagination of a healthy twelve year old, used to individual exploring of mountain and field. His becoming a Boy Scout last year only whetted his appetite for adventure.

Andy! Andy Oslin! Miss Thompson, the sixth grade teacher, called out.

Andy's attention quickly swung from the mountain to Miss Thompson. She was a lady of about thirty, with dark hair and a fiery temper.

Caught again! Andy could only reply, Yes’m?

You’re daydreaming again, aren’t you?

No mam! Andy replied, trying to bluff his way through.

Then tell me! What was the question I just asked?

Amid muffled snickers from fellow classmates, Andy's mind raced for a solution to his dilemma.

Well Andy!

Andy could tell that Miss Thompson's temper was on the rise.

Andy was about to answer, when the classroom door opened and Mr. Stevens, the school Principal, entered with a blond-haired girl.

All eyes focused their attention on Mr. Stevens and the girl.

Miss Thompson! Class! This is Rebecca Williams. She’ll be your new class member. Make her welcome.

Saved! Andy thought.

The previous fury on Miss Thompson's face had softened and her voice was friendly as she spoke, Welcome to the class Becky. There’s an empty desk in the back, next to Molly Wright. Please take that desk.

Becky's reply was so soft that Andy, who was also in the back, couldn’t hear what was said. Carrying the class manual, provided by the school, the young girl went to her assigned desk and took a seat, as instructed.

While Miss Thompson gave Becky the day’s assignment, Andy studied the new girl. After careful analysis, he thought to himself, She’s the prettiest durn girl in school.

Her blond hair was done in long curly ringlets, similar to Shirley Temple. When Miss Thompson and Becky talked, Andy noticed that the girl’s voice was soft with warm rich tones. Even her dress added to the beauty that his eyes were absorbing.

Miss Thompson finished welcoming Becky and was encouraging the class to do likewise. Apparently Andy’s absorbing stare triggered Becky to turn her head and look at him. Her blue eyes twinkled with merriment as she saw the dumbfounded expression on Andy’s face. A smile quickly appeared on her face, exposing a cute dimple on the right side of her face.

Andy returned the smile and concluded, Yep! She’s the prettiest durn girl in school!

Andy also became aware that Miss Thompson’s attention was now fully directed at him.

Andy’s smile quickly disappeared. Miss Thompson asked, Now Andrew Oslin! Where were we?

Miss Thompson, using his full name instead of Andy, he knew he was in trouble. At that moment the recess bell rang. Even though Andy’s desk was in the back of the room, he was among the first students to escape the room, before Miss Thompson could hold him over to scold or lecture. Hopefully, she would forget by the time the hour long recess was over.

Some of the class went to play softball, a few stood and talked, but this wasn’t for Andy. Running across the school grounds, past the boy’s outdoor toilet, he crossed through a barbed-wire fence and made for the stock pond in the pasture. It was a small pond built to stop soil erosion caused by ground flooding, and supply water for stock. Its earthen dam had several willow trees hanging over the edge of the water. The murky water was home for perch and catfish.

Reaching the pond, he kept a cautious eye on the ground for water moccasins. Tim had no love for snakes. Going onto the pond dam, he checked his fishing pole. It was a long, thin bamboo pole, held securely to the bank by a large rock.

Looking out onto the water, he could see that his red and white bobber floated on the surface. Removing the rock, he lifted up his line, which was the length of the pole. A small lead weight kept his hook dangling down from his bobber. The hook was bare.

From a small jar he had hidden among the willows, he took a worm and re-baited his hook. He considered the warm Indian summer day and re-adjusted the depth to which his hook would hang. Swinging his line back into the pond, he watched his bobber for a few minutes, to see if any fish would bite. Not receiving any, he put his pole back on the bank, replaced the rock over it and headed back for the schoolyard. Reaching the school building, he rounded a corner and almost collided with Becky.

Hi! She greeted. Andy replied the same.

I saw you going to the pond. What were you doing? She asked.

I was checking my fishing-pole. He answered.

Catch anything? She questioned.

Nope!

Ever catch anything?

Sometimes.

What do you do with them?

Put them on a willow stringer and take them home after school.

How do you get a willow stringer? Being out of the water, don’t the fish die?

I use my pocket knife to cut a stringer. I put the fish on the stringer and anchor it into the muddy bank below the surface of the water. Changing the subject he asked, Where are you from?

Whites City, New Mexico. she answered.

Andy thought he knew where New Mexico was located, but to be on the safe side he asked, What’s it like?

It’s like a desert and gets hot in the summer. It's near Carlsbad Caverns.

Although he wondered where the place was that she mentioned, he didn't get to ask. Don Barton, the class bully, walked up. It was clear that he had set his sights on having Becky as his girl. Andy knew that if he remained the sarcastic remarks from Don would lead to a fight.

To Becky, he said, See you! The smirk on Don’s face was almost more than Andy could stand. Swallowing his pride and anger, Andy turned and went inside the school building. He knew that sooner or later he and Don would tangle. His anger lasted through the next two classes. Each time he looked at Becky in class, the glances she returned came from a pretty but sad face.

The last recess of the day finally came. Miss Thompson had him remain for a few moments to lecture him about lack of attention in school. When she excused him, he bolted outside and headed for the pond to again check his fishing pole. He avoided Don who was returning from the boy’s outdoor toilet. Don gave him a smile that reeked with cruel intent.

When Andy reached the pond he found his pole floating in the middle of the pond and his anchor rock missing. With each moment of time it took to cast stones, causing ripples to get his pole close enough to reach, his anger increased. He thought, It had to have been Don Barton.

By the time he had hidden his pole and reached the schoolyard, his anger was ready to explode. He spotted Becky and Don Barton by the swings.

With decisive stride, he reached them and demanded an answer from Don, Did you throw my fishing pole into the pond?

What if I did? Wha’cha going to do about it?

Andy hesitated for a moment, considering Becky’s presence, and that Don was larger than him. Andy’s hesitation provoked Don, determined to impress Becky. Don figured that by throwing Andy to the ground, getting on top and pounding Andy with his fists, he would impress Becky.

Grabbing Andy, both fell to the ground. Somehow in the middle of their fall Andy managed to twist around, causing Don to hit the ground first, with Andy on top. Don’s attempt to hit Andy or get him off his chest only resulted in Andy grabbing his arms and pinning him down. Don’s anger exploded, but to no avail.

‘Nough? Andy asked.

Don’s response was a greater effort to free his hands and hit Andy.

Unable to get free, Don calmed down and Andy again asked, ’Nough?

Don nodded yes. Andy let him lose, got up and started towards a worried Becky. When the look on her face changed to horror, Andy spun around to face a charging Don Barton. As before, Don hit the ground first, with Andy on top. Don’s fury at being pinned down again caused Andy to chuckle. The redder Don’s face became with anger, the more amusing to Andy who thought, This will teach him not to bother me. Unable to shake Andy, Don calmed down and ceased to struggle.

Say Uncle, if you’ve had enough! Andy demanded.

Uncle. Don replied in a low voice.

Louder! Andy commanded.

Uncle! This was given in a loud voice.

Andy let him up, but kept a watchful eye on him. A sulking and defeated Don Barton went to the schoolhouse and disappeared inside. The conflict had taken only a few minutes, but much had been accomplished. He’d defeated the class bully and won the admiration of Becky.

The following days were the best that Andy could imagine. Word of the scuffle had gotten around. Classmates now treated him with respect. Becky was interested in him and had many questions about his escape world, Rattlesnake Mountain. She was a good listener, wistfully taking in Andy’s descriptions of his favorite places on the mountain as though watching a movie. She visualized his account of cutting tree vines and swinging across the branch below the dam and how a vine broke, dumping him into the water.

The vision of this caused Becky to giggle and ask, What did your mother do when she saw your wet clothes?

With a sly grim, Andy replied, I used my scout matches to start a small fire and dry my clothes. Mom never knew. Continuing he said, There’s a big rock on the mountain, shaped like a huge couch. It’s on the edge of the mountain, and you can see the town and surrounding fields for miles. There’s always a cool breeze and a stand of Black Jack oak shields me from the western sun. I like to set and think while dangling my feet over the edge.

Aren’t you afraid of falling over the edge, She excitedly asked.

Naw! Andy replied cockily. Continuing he said, There’s a place up there we guys call Scout Cave. It’s not really a cave but a rock over-hang. Someone took flat rocks and walled in a small room with an open doorway. Scout Cave is located in a small ravine and has a little brook that falls from a rock shelf on the opposite side. The water is really cold. We guys challenge each other to see who can stand below it the longest."

Becky asked, Do you guys wear bathing suits?

Nope!

Becky blushed, but Andy pretended not to see.

Andy continued, Next to Scout Cave is a tilted slab of rock, for easy access to the top. It’s covered with wild grape vines. When they’re ripe I pick several to take home to mom, to make into jelly. On top, there’s a small grove of persimmon trees, and just beyond is a large open meadow where Indians once lived.

Becky interrupted, How do you know that?

I found arrowheads there. Continuing, I found a small cave entrance on the mountain. I could barely squeeze through. Inside was a slopping floor to a small square room.

Becky again interrupted, You’re fibbing me.

Andy replied, It’s true! Cross my heart and hope to die. The room must have been built by someone, because they had built a fire and the ashes are still there. Apparently, the cave must have had a regular entrance that was closed by a rock-slide.

What makes you think that? She asked.

Because someone piled some dead branches inside that’s too large to get down the entry I found.

Why would anyone do that? Do you suppose they were outlaws? She asked excitedly.

I don’t know. Andy replied. Her question did stir his adventurous soul. He made a mental note to check this possibility out. He continued, Over on the far side is a shale slide. We guys keep pieces of cardboard there, so we can slide down.

Is it a long slide?

So, so! He made a questioning jester with his hand and continued, It’s long enough that you have to use your heels to guide you and slow down.

That sounds like fun!

Yep! Almost as much fun as boating on the lake.

You have a boat on the lake?

Not exactly. I liberate the one that’s kept there and paddle around.

Oh, Andy! Will you take me boating?

Can you swim?

Yes! Why?

There’s no life-saving things on board.

I now understand why you love the mountain like you do. It sounds so exciting. Won’t you please take me along next time?

Andy considered the request. Finally he asked, Would your parents object?

I would tell them I’d be with you.

Andy felt that she would be telling only a half-truth. What if she told her parents that she would be with him and not mention the mountain? He felt a slight guilty twinge. He hadn’t told his mother either he was going to the mountain on his first visit.

After his father’s death from a ruptured appendix, his mother had gotten a job at the post-office. Over a period of time, he explored the mountain while she was at work. When asked how he spent his time, after school and weekends, he’d tell his mom, looking around the fields outside of town. It was a half-truth. He tried not to think how that might go against the Scout Law – Trustworthy. He felt he truly lived up to the Scout Motto—Be Prepared. Later his mother learned of his trips to the mountain from one of her adult friends. By this time, Andy knew the mountain well. His mother only scolded him and told him to be careful, and always tell her when he was going to the mountain.

With these thoughts in mind, he asked Becky, Will you tell your parents we’re going to the mountain?

Yes.

Her reply wasn’t satisfying, but then his mother still didn’t know of his going swimming, with the guys in the nude, at the flooded open coal pits north of town. Or, his swimming with his friend Pete, by sliding down the muddy banks of George’s Fork creek, into muddy brown water that was known to have water moccasins and snapping-turtles. It would have just worried her and probably caused some restrictions.

Pondering all this, he told Becky, I’ll think about it.

Changing the subject, Andy asked, What does your dad do?

He teaches Botany at the college. Continuing, Becky asked, What does your mom do?

She’s postmaster. What’s botany?

Sounds like being a postmaster would be interesting. She must know a lot of people? Botany is a study of plants.

Yeah? Andy replied.

Feeling he was on unfamiliar ground, Andy answered Becky’s question. Yep! Mom knows everyone here a-bouts. Continuing he boasted, She was appointed postmaster by President Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

Wow! She was appointed by the President!

Yep!

Days passed and friendship increased between Becky and Andy. Both enjoyed exchanging stories of things that they had seen or done in life.

When school let out for the summer, he asked Becky, A bunch of us kids are planning to play tag at the cotton gin, care to join us?

Yes!

When it’s sunset we’ll all meet at the gin. Okay?

Okay.

The cotton gin was on the southern edge of town. Bailed cotton stood almost six feet tall and were placed in four separate rows of fifty bales; each row was separated by about three feet of space.

Kids would climb on top of the bales and one person was chosen it. That person would hide their eyes, count to ten; then try to catch and tag someone. The person tagged then became it.

Andy arrived a little before Becky, and was glad to see her approaching. At her arrival Andy notified the group, Hey gang! This is Becky from New Mexico. He added the state for some prestige purposes. The game was explained to her. When the person chosen it began to count, Andy and Becky ran the same way, jumping from one row of bales to another. The race to tag became intense. Kids were running and jumping between the rows of bailed cotton, to escape the It from tagging them.

There were four boxcars parked on the rails next to the bales of cotton.

Andy yelled to Becky, Come with me!

Leading the way, Andy, followed by Becky, climbed the boxcar’s metal ladder to the top. The it was right behind them. Andy and Becky ran the length of the boxcar and jumped the gap to the next car. At the last car they quickly climbed down, raced to the cotton bales and got on top. The it spotted another closer by and tagged him. When it became too dark to see well, the game ended. Both Andy and Becky managed to not be tagged.

Becky said, Oh Andy! That was so much fun. Thanks for inviting me.

You’re welcome. It’s dark. Maybe I’d best walk you home.

Walking along, the two talked about the game and the fun.

Andy asked, Have you ever played the game, Go Sheep Go"?

No, how do you play that?

It’s a little like the game we just played. It’s played after dark. A person is chosen it. That person hides their eyes and counts slowly to fifty, out-loud, while the chosen referee goes with the players to see where each chooses a hiding place. The referee returns to the tree [base] before the it finishes the count.

When the it finishes the count, that person, along with the referee, begins a search for the hidden players. When a hidden player is spotted they run to tag the tree base. If they can dodge the it or outrun him to tag the base tree, they are safe.