Thanks for dropping by the Scribbler. I posted Part 1 of this story last week and if you want to check that out, just scroll down to the bottom of this post.
Can you imagine what it would be like if you were ten years old and came across a parked car in the field? Wouldn't you be curious too?
Two Boys, One Wagon & a Secret - Part 2.
(copyright is held by the author)
And then Beans says,
“We didn’t do very good in school did we? My folks keep telling me I can do
better. I hate studying, I only like arithmetic… and comics.”
The topic of
school is a tender one for Chops. The new teacher has an obvious dislike for
him. He’s not a fast thinker like Beans; he needs to hear complicated things
repeated to understand them and their instructor is short on patience. The
rural school is one room, thirty-three kids, eight grades. He claims that he
cannot devote personal time to each student and ignores those with learning disabilities.
There’s no help at home; the Sangster’s as a whole would get a C-.
“I don’t think my
folks care; we’re all kinda dumb. I wish I could like arithmetic, but I love
reading. And I really like your comics.”
“You’re not dumb.
I’ll help you with the arithmetic.”
The offer is
sincere, both bashful before the banter continues.
Another time,
Chops says, “You like Mary Jane Baker, don’t you?”
The quiet across
the road causes Beans to look back at Chops, who stops walking. His face is so
red that you can’t see his freckles. He’s so angry, he’s sputtering,
“D-d-d-don’t say
that again. It’s not true.”
Beans starts
laughing, realizing from the reaction that it is true and ambles through the
ditch singing. “Phil and Mary Jane up in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G...”
“And don’t call me
Phil.”
Beans is not
listening and scurries up onto the road. Waving to his partner, he yells out, “C’mon,
let’s head into Mr. Harnett’s. He’ll be expecting us. If we hurry, we can still
do the other way – at least down to the old gravel pit, there’s always some
there.”
Chops forgets Mary
Jane for now and hurries to catch up as Beans heads into the bachelor’s lane.
“Yeah and there’s
always some of those soggy, rubbery things – at least one. Did you ask your dad
yet what they are? Mine told me to
forget about it, that I’d know soon enough, whatever that means.”
“No, but I asked
my brother. They’re called condoms, but Dave says everybody calls them rubbers.”
Chops catches up to
his friend as he ponders the new information, trying to visualise a pair of boots
that small. The lane they’re on is dirt and winds through a dense wooded area
for a couple hundred feet until it opens onto huge fields on either side. The
rich soil is green with new shoots of wheat perfectly aligned; running parallel
to the road on one side while in the other field grass grows will, along with purple
clover, white daisies, yellow buttercups, legumes and other herbaceous plants that
will eventually become fodder. The ground is still damp from yesterday’s rain;
the bouquet of worked earth permeates the air, causing the boys to stop more
than once to breathe deeply and comment on how good it smells.
The road eventually splits in two. The lane to
the right narrows as it continues for five hundred feet, ending at a neat white
farmhouse, two storeys with a verandah in the front and a one-storey kitchen in
the back. The yard is thoughtfully groomed, but there are no flowers. Mr.
Harnett lives alone. His sister and her husband live down the other road.
A large barn and
two smaller out buildings are arranged strategically behind the house. The wooden
shingles are weathered as grey as storm clouds; the doors are painted bright
red. The property reflects the owner’s pride.
A brand new Chevy Apache sits beside the house, facing them as they
approach. The truck’s double headlights seem to stare at them. A tall bushy
haired man is polishing the chrome bumper. Without turning around he says, “I
was wondering what you two rascals might be up to; you’re usually here before
this.”
Wiping his hands
on the cotton cloth, he stands to face the boys. Mr. Harnett towers above them
and if not for his perpetual smile, he might seem foreboding. Instead, he’s a person
happy with his lot. The three chat for a bit, the man teasing the boys and the curious
boys asking about the new truck. Mr. Harnett soon sends them off to the front
steps where he has placed this week’s empties.
“Goodness, your
wagon is full. Think you can fit some more in there?”
Chops is toting
the bottles to the cart. Beans waves back saying, “We’ll carry them if we have
to. Thanks a lot Mr. Harnett; you’re a swell guy.”
Harnett grins as
he watches the lads tuck some of the bottles in upside down between the others.
Beans ends up carrying three as they head out the lane. Both boys gaze back at him
briefly and he gives them a wave before returning to his polishing. Chops tugs
on the wagon as they come up the slight rise that leads to the wooded area.
When they are about twenty feet away from the woods, the sun that had been
hiding behind a cloud bursts out and glints off something metallic at the edge
of the field, causing both boys to look up. They stop where the hay field meets
the woods. Tire tracks tell them a vehicle has driven across the culvert and
through the uncut grasses. The field extends for a good distance, the land is
slightly hilly and except for the antenna, the vehicle is hidden from their
view. The ten year olds are filled with curiosity. Chops says, “Those tracks
weren’t there when we came in.”
Beans sets the
bottles he’s carrying down beside the wagon.
“And we know it
isn’t Mr. Harnett.”
“Could be his
brother-in-law.”
“Naw, his truck
was at the house, I saw it across the way.”
The boys are given
to wild imaginations; rumours they hear are given more credibility when
something mysterious enters their energetic minds. Chops is the reader, his
thinking more creative.
“Suppose it could
be whoever stole Jason Lawson’s horse?”
The fact that it
would be the unlikeliest of hiding places did nothing to dampen their
enthusiasm. Instead, it fuelled on the possibility of intrigue. Beans is the
action one.
“We should go
see.”
“I don’t know,
Beans. What if it is a thief or worse, thieves?”
“C’mon, we’ll just
sneak along the woods and see. If it’s strangers, we’ll come back and tell Mr. Harnett.
He’d want to know.”
“Okay, but you go
ahead and be quiet.”
They pull the
wagon closer to the tall spruce that borders the road. The boys enter the woods,
keeping the field on their right. Watching where they step so as to be quiet,
they approach to the edge of the field. A womanly shriek stops them dead. It
sounds like she’s in pain. It startles the two so keenly that Chops almost wets
himself. He quickly turns around to head back, but is stopped by a Beans’ hiss.
“Wait! It sounds like a woman and she could be hurt.”
“I don’t care. I’m
scared. Let’s go.”
“Don’t be a
sissy.”
Beans moves
forward slowly, Chops reluctantly following. When they hear voices and groaning,
they drop to their knees. Crawling toward the sounds, they come to the rim of
the field. A white Pontiac is parked at the crux of the right angle of field
and woods. The nose of the car faces them, both doors wide open. From below the
passenger’s door, tangled in the long grass, are four legs. The two feet pointing
up have coloured nails and something pink and lacy hangs from one ankle. The
feet pointing down are shod with black shiny shoes, dress pants scrunched about
the ankles, toes digging in the dirt. The car rocks with the same rhythm as the
thrusting of the heels. The boys don’t understand what is happening. They are shocked
at what they see yet mesmerized by the moaning.
A piercing yell
almost causes Beans and Chops hearts to stop, scaring them so intensely. They
hold their breath. They want to hug the earth but are frozen by what they see.
The car is heaving back and forth more rapidly. A man’s head appears in the
windshield, bent unbelievingly back, his eyes tightly shut, lips stretched into
a grimace, spittle flying from his mouth as he exclaims, “Yes baby, yes baby,
yes baby…”
Suddenly
everything stops, the head disappears, the feet stop moving, the car settles
down. They boys stare at each other in total disbelief. The two innocents have yet to experience an
orgasm and for the life of them cannot fathom what they have just seen. There
is mumbling coming from the car, nothing they can discern. Chops stares at Beans now, wondering what
they should do. A womanly voice urges
softly but commandingly, “Okay, get off me now.”
The lads are
stunned when they see the man stand up before bending down to retrieve his
trousers. It’s Horatio Glendenning, their schoolteacher. A young lady sits up
in the car, tugging at the pink fabric around her ankle, placing the other foot
gently through. Standing behind the man, the woman wiggles the tight panties
into place. When she moves aside to straighten her dress, her face is in full
view. It isn’t Mrs. Glendenning. They
don’t know who it is. Chops is started by a soft blow to his shoulder. Beans
begins to creep away. “Let’s get the dickens outta here.”
They are almost
running when they get to the wagon. Beans tosses the three empties he’d been
carrying into the ditch. “We’ll get those next week.”
Standing behind
the wagon, he gestures for Chops to start pulling while he pushes. The boys are
soon scooting down the wooded lane. Veering to the left the two head directly
home, ignoring whatever empties might be had along the way. There are too many
questions. Their innocent minds can’t understand why the woman had her
underwear off, why the car was shaking, or why the man was repeating himself.
They figure that their teacher was punishing the woman for something.
The conversation
drifts when they turn into Beans driveway and head for the garage. Unloading
the wagon in silence, each boy is preoccupied with his own thoughts. Looking to
Beans for the answers, Chops asks, “What are we going to do?”
“Nothing right
now. I’m going to talk to my brother Dave about this.”
Even though he was
only fifteen, Dave, like his brother and father, is big for his age. He made it
a point to “run into” Mr. Glendenning at the Farmer’s Market one Saturday
morning in July. And when the boys started back to school in the fall, they
never failed an exam. Chops is the first one in his family to get an A.
Thanks for visiting the Scribbler. Hope you enjoyed meeting "Beans & Chops".
Please watch for details of my newest novel coming soon.
JW: It was always my dream to be a published author. Of course, I never believed in my wildest dreams it would come to fruition. 
My mission is to help bloggers. Although it started out to help new bloggers, many of the bloggers that started blogging when I started writing are no longer new. 
