The Mystery of the Canebrake Read online

  “Dang you, Richard, look at this shirt; wet, wrinkled, and smelling like a danged sick mule instead of vomit. You just had to help that lady and offer to let her sit by us. Didn’t you?”

  “Come on, John Clayton, didn’t you hear me say “watch out” when that kid was ’bout to puke.”

  “Oh, you big liar. All you did was jump outta the way while I held him throwin’ up all over everything. Shoot, now I’ve got to wash my shoes.”

  John Clayton dipped his shoes in the horse-watering trough, and tried to shake off the water, but you can’t really shake water off of shoes and you sure can’t wring

  ’em out. When he put them on, they squished as he walked. And I didn’t want to tell him, but he really did smell like some old mule.

  “Come on, quit whining and let’s head for the Ritz. The sun’s out and you’ll dry off pretty soon.”

  We started for the Ritz, and after walking about 100 yards, John Clayton stopped.

  “Dang you, Richard; this is all you fault! I smell like a mule, and I’m wet and miserable!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The Ghost of the Ritz

  We walked up Hill Street to the corner of Main to where the colored kids were standing by their ticket window.

  “Wait a minute, John Clayton, we need to get Joe Rel lined up for the Ritz trick.”

  “Joe Rel, Billy Ray!” I walked up to the crowd of colored kids, yelling and waving my hands to get their attention.

  “Here, Richard!” yelled Joe Rel from the back of the crowd.

  Joe Rel slipped through the kids and came over to where we were standing.

  “Richard, you gonna get us all in trouble. Are you sure you wanta do this trick? You know Old Man Slater is already after y’all, and he’s bound to know it was you Norphlet boys doing all those tricks.”

  “Heck, Joe Rel all you have to do in pull up this fishin’ line ’bout 20 feet.”

  Finally, after I had to pay Joe Rel a nickel, he took the roll of fishing line and walked back into the crowd of colored kids.

  “You think Joe Rel is gonna chicken out?”

  “Naw, he’ll be okay once he gets up to the balcony. Heck, if he doesn’t, he’s gonna owe me a nickel. Yeah, for a nickel Joe Rel will do just ’bout anything.”

  We walked around to the back of the theater and waited by the exit door for Ears to come let us in. The door slowly clicked open and we slipped in and quickly shut it to keep light from getting in the theater.

  “Come on, John Clayton, go get a seat right under the balcony, I gotta go down front and wait for the mystery girl.” I ran down the aisle of the theater toward the front row, plopped down, and saved a seat beside me.

  So, the long planned ghost trick was just about to happen. Several weeks ago, we saw that the Ritz was going to feature a big, horror picture show weekend, with Frankenstein and Dracula. Over the past week, we had talked about what we could do to scare the kids and pull the Ritz trick to end all Ritz tricks. Finally, we came up with the ghost of the Ritz, but we needed help from the balcony.

  Joe Rel was to let a fishing line down, and we were gonna tie it to a balloon that we’d draped a sheet over and then right in the scarcest part of the picture show Joe Rel was gonna pull it up where it looked like it was a floating ghost. And, when it passed in front of the projector, it would look huge.

  I sat down and folded up the seat beside me to save it for the mystery girl, and I looked back at John Clayton, who was sitting right under the balcony waiting for Joe Rel to let the string down.

  The theater got dark and the curtain parted as the trailers started. I kept turning and looking back for someone to come and sit by me, but I didn’t see a soul. I was just about to give up when someone came from the other side of the aisle, and she was right beside me before I saw her.

  “Is this seat taken?” she said.

  I jumped about three feet as I looked up.

  “Freckles? Freckles!” I stammered. “Uh, no sit down.”

  “Richard, I’m so embarrassed. I can’t believe I did this.”

  I was so shocked for a minute that I couldn’t speak. Then as I looked over at Freckles and as she smiled at me I realized that I just hadn’t noticed her because she was always with Rosalie, and when Rosalie was around I only had eyes for her. And me and Freckles had always kidded and had such a good time together that I thought of her as a good friend. But now I realized that I had a lot of the same feelings she did.

  Finally, I managed to mutter something, and then I said, “Freckles, you’re a special girl,” and I reached over and held her hand. She smiled and we settled back to watch the picture show. Then I thought, Oh, my gosh the ghost of the Ritz will be starting any minute!

  “Freckles,” I whispered, “me, John Clayton, and Joe Rel have a funny trick planned that’s gonna start in just a few minutes. Don’t be scared. It’s not real.”

  Freckles smiled and nodded, “Another one of your Ritz tricks, huh?”

  “Yeah, and this one is great, but it won’t start until the picture show get really scary.”

  We settled back and I thought about Freckles being the mystery girlfriend, and I was so glad and could hardly sit still.

  The serial, trailer, and the newsreels were finally over and the first picture show, Dracula, started. Gosh, as that show went on and on, every kid in the theater was clutching the armrests of their seat. I looked up at the balcony rail, and I could see Joe Rel looking over. I watched him let the line down and soon the thin fishing line was hanging down right in front of John Clayton.

  “John Clayton had the balloon already to go, and I watched as he put the sheet over the balloon and got ready to signal Joe Rel to pull it up. We had painted a big grin, eyes, and a nose on the sheet just where the balloon would be. Joe Rel had gone back to his seat, waiting for John Clayton to jerk the string. One jerk and he would slowly pull the ghost up until it was right in the middle of the big open area between the balcony and downstairs, right in front of the projector.

  John Clayton sat there and waited until Dracula was in the little village stalking this pretty blonde girl and just before she walked into this dark room where Dracula was waiting, he jerked the string. Everybody was holding their breath as she opened the door, and some of the little kids were yelling for her to not go in—then, as the balloon ghost floated up in the theater, John Clayton made a loud moan and all the kids down front looked around. My gosh, about that time the ghost balloon got right in front of the projector and it looked like a monster ghost was in the theater! Wow, you should have heard all the screaming.

  “Ahaaaaaaaa! Ahaaaaaaa! A ghost! Ghost! Ghost! Ahaaaaa! Ahaa!”

  The kids who were closest to the ghost started running and climbing over seats, scrambling to get down front as the theater went crazy. Joe Rel panicked and turned loose of the string. I thought the balloon would just float down and it would be over, but no. A gust of air from the big fan that blew refrigerated air into the theater carried the ghost right down front toward the mass of kids that had panicked and run down there, pressing against the edge of the stage.

  Then what happened was just good luck, or you might say it was because John Clayton hadn’t tied the balloon tight enough, because the knot came undone and the ghost swirled around swooping up and then straight down toward the mass of kids down front.

  “Ahaaaaaaa! Ahaaaaaaa! Ahaaaaaaa!” Screams echoed through the theater as terrified kids sprinted up the aisle only to run into Old Man Slater and two theater maids who’d been knocked down and stepped on as they tried to leave the theater.

  ’Course, Old Man Slater was screaming at the top of his lungs for them to stop and go back and sit down, but it was too late. The theater emptied of most of the little kids, and I could hear them still yelling as they ran out the front door.

  Me and John Clayton were in shock. In all our laughing about doing this trick, we’d never thought it would go over this good. Old Man Slater turned on the houselights and walked down front w
here a limp sheet and a flat balloon were lying on the floor.

  “Look! Look! Come on back in here. It’s just a joke. It’s nothing! Nothing!” he yelled.

  Pick up here

  It really didn’t matter much to all the kids that had run outta the theater screaming. Dracula was bad enough, and the addition of even a play-like ghost was more than they could stand. Old Man Slater looked down front where we were sitting waiting for the picture show to start again.

  “What? What in the hell! You didn’t run out because you knew this was just a trick, and by god y’all are guilty. I know you did it!” He pointed his boney finger straight at me and started pulling off his belt.

  “No sir, no sir, it didn’t look real to us.” I lied.

  “Hell, no it didn’t look real ’cause y’all hooked this damn thing up.”

  Old Man Slater yelled a little more, but he sure didn’t have any evidence, and we told him the kid that did it ran out of the theater with the crowd of scared kids. He finally started the picture show again, and we settled back still giggling about the Ghost of the Ritz. Freckles thought the ghost trick was the best one ever, and we sat and held hands through the whole picture show and when Frankenstein knocked the castle door down and rushed in, she grabbed me and gave me the biggest hug. I was in love before I left the theater.

  We walked out of the Ritz about 1 o’clock, Freckles’s Daddy picked her up, and we headed for Woolworth’s to get a hot dog before the picture show started at the Majestic. Finally, after the Majestic and then the Rialto, we walked back to the train station and waited for the train. It was a little after 5, and, as I stood there and thought about what we were gonna do, I started to get upset. Heck, we weren’t but 13 years old, and just the thought of riding in a boxcar at night all the way to Little Rock had me breathing like I’d just run a race.

  John Clayton looked over at me, and I knew he was about to jump ship.

  “Richard are you sure we wanta do this, ridin’ in a dark boxcar all night? What if there’s some bad people in them?” John Clayton stood there biting his lip like he does when he’s all upset.

  I didn’t say nothing for at least a minute, and I was about to say that maybe we shouldn’t do it because it did sound plumb dangerous. Heck, John Clayton was right, what would be in them old boxcars, and how in heck would we find the fairgrounds once we got to Little Rock? But then I thought of Mr. Bill sitting there with his coonskin sack just waiting on us to come get him, and if we didn’t one day soon he’d hafta go into town, and they’d haul him off and lock him up for the rest of his life in the Home for the Strange. I knew right then that even though this was something that we were plumb crazy to get into, we didn’t have a choice, and we were gonna make the best try we could.

  “Yeah, we gotta do it. Come on let’s go.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The Trip to Little Rock

  It was nearly 6 when we heard a long, wailing whistle from the switching yard—the train was coming.

  Listen, John Clayton, I’ve been thinkin’ ’bout this, and we don’t need to go all the way into Norphlet. When we get on, I’ll tell the conductor that we need to get off at O’Rear’s Crossing—you knowwhere Flat Creek crosses the railroad—and we can walk through the Swamp to Mr. Bill’s place. I don’t think we should go back to Norphlet. Somebody might see us.”

  “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

  We climbed onboard and I told the conductor we needed to get off at O’Rear’s Crossing. The whistle sounded again, we heard, “All aboard!” and the train lurched forward. Shoot, O’Rear’s ain’t but a 10-minute train ride from El Dorado, and before we knew it the train ground to a halt.

  “Boys, this is it.”

  “Yes, sir,” we both said. We hopped off the train and started walking along Flat Creek back into the Swamp, and 30 minutes later, we got to Mr. Bill’s canebrake. Mr. Bill had some Vienna Sausages and some white bread that we shared for supper. It was almost 7:30 and starting to get dark.

  “We can’t walk up the road to Norphlet,” I said. “Somebody might see us. Let’s walk back to the railroad tracks and then we can go to the refinery switching area, and when the train comes in from El Dorado, we can hop on when it picks up the cars from the refinery.”

  “Yeah, let’s get started. Heck, that freight train don’t run on a schedule like the passenger train,” said John Clayton. He got up and started to walk toward the tracks with me and Mr. Bill following him.

  Thirty-minutes through the Swamp, and we reached the railroad tracks. Then, in another 20minutes, we were sitting in the weeds waiting for the freight train to arrive from El Dorado.

  “Dang, Richard, it’s getting dark.” Heck, I could sure tell he was starting to get fidgety.

  “Uh, well, yeah, stupid, it’s after eight. It always gets dark ’bout this time.”

  “Naw, you know what I mean; it’s that this thing seems a lot more scary after dark.”

  “Now, boys, you have been mighty good to me, and if you don’t want to help me I’ll understand. I just hope all this works out, and y’all don’t get in any trouble.”

  “Heck, Mr. Bill this will be just an adventure for us. It’s gonna be a lot of fun,” I said. Shoot, I was just trying to act like I wasn’t just about to faint from being so upset.

  John Clayton wasn’t too sure about that and as I looked at him sitting there crouched in the weeds beside the railroad track I begin to feel like maybe we had bit off more than we could chew. Just then, before we could change our minds, we heard a whistle and we could feel the tracks shake as the 9 o’clock freight train rounded the curved from O’Rear’s Crossing. It was too late to back out.

  “Everybody get ready,” I said, “and when the train stops to pick up the refinery cars, run, and jump in the first boxcar that’s empty.”

  The big black engine slowed down and a railroad man jumped off to switch the tracks where the train could pull into the refinery switching area and pick up the asphalt cars that were loaded.

  “Come on, run! Head for the boxcar on the end with the door open,” I whispered.

  We sprinted across an open area toward the tracks and jumped in the open door as the train slowed and then ground to a halt.

  We all made it on board and Mr. Bill walked back toward one end of the car while me and John Clayton started for the other end. About that time, the train jerked and we were on our way picking up speed as we cleared the switching area.

  “Come on, John Clayton, get back here in this end of the car.” I started for the dark end of the car when I saw a shadow and then this man said, “Hey, kid, where do you think you’re going? I’m taking this end of the car.”

  My gosh, I jumped three feet. Somebody was already in the boxcar, and he didn’t sound friendly at all.

  “Hell, what’s a couple of kids doing in a boxcar anyway?”

  Then out into the fading light stepped a big hobo with a ragged black beard wearing an old pair of overalls. His pants had holes in them and he had an old beat-up felt hat pulled down over one side of his head. Mr. Bill had slipped back into the other end of the car out of the light, and I guess the hobo had been asleep and hadn’t seen him. The train had really picked up steam now as it passed through Norphlet.

  “Whut are two young boys doing ridin’ the rails? Probably runaways huh?”

  “Uh, no, sir, uh, we’re going to Little Rock and back tomorrow,” I managed to say.

  “Hummm, you boys got any money?”

  “Yes sir, I’ve got my paper route money, and John Clayton has two dollars he saved up for the trip.”

  “Lemmie have it.”

  “What?”

  “Gimmie that money, or I’ll break your skinny neck.”

  The hobo stepped forward and grabbed John Clayton by the shoulder and started to shake him.

  “Stop, stop, don’t hurt me!”

  “Gimmie that two dollars, right now!”

  John Clayton was reaching in his pocket to find the $2, whe
n out of the dark end of the car was a roar and Mr. Bill jumped into the light flinging off the scarf that had covered his head.

  “Oh my god, what in the hell,” the hobo yelled. He dropped John Clayton and backed away toward the open boxcar door. Just then, Mr. Bill let loose another scream and dropped down on all fours as he lunged toward the hobo who by now was almost outta the open boxcar door. The hobo backed away and grabbed the iron rail on the car door as he raised his foot to kick at Mr. Bill, who was snarling and lunging at the hobo.

  John Clayton was yelling and Mr. Bill was making the funny growling sounds that he’d made when he was in the circus, and I was running around the boxcar trying to figure out some way to help. Then, I saw a piece of wood about three feet long. I picked it up and swung as hard as I could, aiming for the hobo’s hand that was holding on to the door. Shoot, when I smacked his fingers he let outta a yell like nothing you’ve ever heard.

  “Ahaaaaaaaaaaa!”

  Well, about that time, the train lurched and he turned loose of the rail. The last we saw him he was rolling down into the ditch beside the track.

  Mr. Bill stood up and shook his head.

  “Well, boys, I never thought looking like a wild man was much good, but that circus trick sure helped us out tonight.”

  “Yeah, Mr. Bill, that hobo was so scared he was ’bout to jump out of this car. I guess my lick on his fingers helped him along.”

  “Shoot, Richard,” stammered John Clayton, “we coulda been killed! That hobo looked crazy outta his eyes, and what do you think he was gonna do with us after we gave him the money?”

  Shoot, I didn’t wanta answer that because just the thought would’ve gotten me more upset that I was.

  “Well, I can tell you one thing, we don’t hafta worry ’bout him no more,” I said. “Bouncin’ down into that ditch going 50-miles-an-hour had to hurt.”

  I looked around to be sure there wasn’t anybody else in the car, and then we settled down and tried to get some sleep as we rolled on toward Little Rock. Well, Mr. Bill just laid down, put his head on that coonskin sack, and was asleep in 10 minutes, but me and John Clayton were so danged scared we couldn’t have gone to sleep if our lives had depended on it.