FINAL FREE DAY!
Tales of a Texas Boy
Great Book for Dad or Grandpa - Get them the ebook for Christmas or buy a "real" book for Christmas. Ta Da! Christmas shopping is done.
Barn raising is a community affair that takes place in almost all rural societies across the country. In Texas, nearly every community event also includes a barbecue, although it’s sometimes by default. It all depends on why the barn needs raising.
A LITTLE TORNADO came through last week and Nate Simmons’ barn got flattened. Specially bad for Mr. Simmons, two cows were in the barn at the time and didn’t make it out alive. All it meant was there was plenty of meat for a barbecue when all the neighbors came around to rebuild the barn.
The cows got butchered right away and Mr. Simmons managed to sell quite a bit, but there was still a good half left over for the barbecue. My Pa and me went to help set up a pit right after and by the next Saturday, it was all ready to put the half cow on the spit. It does take a couple of days to roast a half, so Mr. Simmons got it fired up on Thursday, so by Saturday it was pretty much ready to go.
All the neighbors gathered up their tools and their families. We packed up and headed over to Mr. Simmons along with everybody else. Mr. Simmons brought in a load of lumber so everybody just brought their tools. We got there in the mornin’ and the men made good progress on clearin’ the scrap from the old barn and startin’ to frame up the new one. They salvaged what they could, stackin’ the good lumber to one side. They built some rough tables from a few pieces that wouldn’t be any good for the barn. Of course, people brought along chairs and such as they knew folks would need some place to sit come meal time.
The ladies, bein’ warned, already baked up biscuits and pies. More’n one family brought a kettle full of beans or potatoes ready to serve. They set those around the fire pit to keep warm while the work of barn raisin’ was in progress. I helped by carryin’ tools and boards to the men as they worked. It got pretty noisy what with all the poundin’ and sawin’ goin’ on.
Along about noon, we could smell the beef pretty good and it made my mouth water. Ma called me over and handed me a gunny sack.
“You go fetch corn, Eddie. We’ll need mebbe fifty ears so don’t come back without that many.”
“Yes’m, Ma. Can I take along Sister? She can pick the low ears while I get the high ones.”
“Sure enough. She’s gettin’ big enough to carry her weight,” Ma said then she went back to stirrin’ the kettles sittin’ next to the pit.
I grabbed Sister, who’s really Dorothy, but we called her Sister. Anyways, we took off to the corn field and proceeded to pull the ripe ears off the stalks. It takes the right eye to get the ripe ones. Some folks have to peel back the silk from the ear and take a look. Me and Sister had done this so many times, we could tell just by how fat the ear looked. So, we were movin’ along pretty good and had about half the ears Ma said to get.
I looked down the row to see how far we’d got when I saw a skunk traipsin’ up toward me. First off, I wondered what the little polecat was doin’ out in the middle of the day. Most often, they hunt at night. I stopped quick and looked around to see where Sister was. I couldn’t see her, so I decided just to let her know.
“Hey, Sister. There’s a skunk up here, so don’t go up the row no more,” I yelled.
“What row, Eddie?” she hollered back.
“The row I’m on,” I answered and wondered why she couldn’t have figured that out herself.
“Which row, I say-ed?” she asked again, soundin’ a little disgusted now.
“This darn row!” Why didn’t the fool girl know which row I was on. Then, it occurred to me I didn’t know where she was neither.
“Say somethin’ again and I’ll find you.”
“I’m heeere!” she sang out.
I could tell she was in front of me and a row or two south. I looked back to where the skunk was, but he’d disappeared. It came to me she might be close to where the skunk was by this time.
“Look out for the skunk,” I called out.
“What skunk?” Sometimes I wondered if she thought anything out.
“The skunk I said was up in front of me,” I said a bit on the mad side now.
Then I heard the scream from Sister and I figured she’d found the skunk. I dropped the sack of corn and ducked through the corn row. Sister ran smack into me. I saw the skunk no more’n five feet up the row. He was stampin’ his feet and hissin’ to beat the band. They do that afore they spray. Then, he raised up on its front legs, rear-end pointin’ right at us. He was fixin’ to shoot!
I grabbed Sister by the arm and jumped through the row back the way I’d come. I pulled her through just in time as I could smell the skunk had let loose. I grabbed up the sack and we both hightailed it up the row in the opposite direction as the skunk.
We ain’t gone more than a couple of steps when we see another skunk in front of us. Then another! We was bein’ overrun with skunks. I dropped the bag of corn as it was slowin’ me down. Sister and me jumped through to the next row and looked both ways to see if any more skunks were headed our way. We didn’t see none, so we skedaddled back out of the cornfield. When we got to the end, we stopped to think over our situation some.
“Ma won’t be none too happy we didn’t bring back the corn,” Sister pointed out the obvious.
“Well, I don’t want to go back in there,” I answered, thinkin’ fast as I knew Sister was right. Skunk smell or a lickin’? Not much of a choice, so I decided we’d go back in for the corn.
“C’mon, then. We gotta go back and get the corn.”
“Nooo, I’m not goin’,” Sister got her stubborn voice and I knew it wouldn’t do any good to argue with her.
“All right, but I’m goin’ tell Ma you didn’t help,” I answered knowin’ it was the only thing that might change her mind.
“She didn’t say I had to go, she just said I could go. Eddie, you’re not goin’ to put this off on me.” With that, she swung herself around to march off. I grabbed her shoulder and her braids whipped around and hit me in the face. It didn’t bother me, though. I was gettin’ desperate, after all.
“Ow!” she yelled and kicked me in the shins. I was glad I wore my boots so it didn’t hurt much.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just need your help,” I whined some so she’d feel sorry for me.
We both stood there for awhile lookin’ at the corn patch, tryin’ to decide how we’d go about gettin’ in and out.
“What if we just pick the corn on the edge here?” Sister asked.
“No good. The stalks out here don’t have much good corn. We’d never get fifty ears.”
We continued to stand there starin’ at the patch, hopin’ something would come to mind.
“We’ll just have to go in,” I finally decided and squared myself up to the task.
Once we’d decided–although Sister still looked like she’d bolt–we headed back into the corn. Our best move was to get the sack as it already had half the corn we needed. So, we started down the row where I’d dropped it.
I didn’t see any sign of the skunk, so I was hopin’ she was gone. I figured the others to be her pups, since skunks are usually loners. It was no wonder she was in a fightin’ mood as I was between her and her children. Any mother would be het up.
We got the sack with no further trouble, filled it up, and headed back to the barbecue pit. Ma saw us comin’ and waved us to put the sack by some big kettles with water heatin’ up. As soon as the water started to boil, then we’d drop the ears in. But, I knew our job wasn’t finished as we also had to husk the corn.
I saw my friend Red watchin’ the men work, so I called him over to help. We got the ears shuck in no time at all. He did notice one small problem.
“This corn stinks, Eddie. Where didja get it?” he asked whilst holdin’ his nose with one hand and tryin’ to shuck with the other.
“We ran into a skunk,” I answered a mite testily as he didn’t have to go in the corn patch and didn’t have no right to complain.
Sister didn’t answer him, but she did punch him in the arm. That’s generally her way of dealin’ with a complainer.
The water was startin’ to boil, so we threw the ears in, dividin’ them between the two big kettles. Ma saw we were puttin’ the corn in, so she came over to check our work. She’s particular about shuckin’ and doesn’t like if we leave too much silk on the cobs.
As she got near us, she started wrinklin’ her nose and I knew she was smellin’ the skunk, too.
“What in tarnation happened to this corn?” she asked, glarin’ at me and Sister.
“Ma, it ain’t our fault. There was a skunk in the corn. Matter of fact, there were five skunks in the corn. We jus’ didn’t get away in time. We were lucky it didn’t hit us, too.” I ran out the excuses, so just shut my mouth.
Ma stood there lookin’ down her nose at us with her arms crossed. Her glasses were glintin’ in the sun so I couldn’t see her eyes, but I figured what they looked like. I’d seen that look often enough to know.
“You two, and you Red, go back to the corn field and get up another fifty ears,” she pronounced our sentence.
Glumly, I grabbed the bag, but Ma took it away and tossed it in the pit where it lit up and was gone in a flash. She grabbed up another bag and handed it over.
The skunks seemed to have left the territory, so we had no more problems. We got up another bag of corn, shucked it, and threw it in the fresh pots of water Ma put to boilin’. Our previous bunch o’ corn went in the pit. The ears burned slower than the bag since the corn was fresh, so to speak.
After it was all said and done, though, it was a good barbecue and we finished up the barn by dusk. Everybody headed home weary, but glad they could help out a neighbor in need. That’s just the way it worked around these parts. Sister and me were just glad we escaped the skunks in the corn patch.
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