The Way to St Louis

by Steve Rubin- Writer

The first in the series called 'The Fifty' which follows the life of a hundred-year-old fifty dollar bill, 'The Way to St. Louis' follows two young boys in Arkansas in the 1930's in their quest to save up enough money to go to see a big city doctor with the hope of fixing the younger boy's physical ailments.

One

Their walk home from school usually took forty minutes; nearly an hour if the weather was bad but the brothers didn't mind because attending school, and walking to and from it, were the only things beside maybe a tornado that kept them from having to do endless chores. Probably half of the boys they knew didn't go to school at all or had stopped by the sixth or seventh grade because their Mas and Pas also had seemingly endless things that always needed to be done, and that was solely outside of planting and harvest times, just the months in between. The walk itself wasn't so bad, unless it started raining, or a hard wind kicked the dust up. Sometimes the dust blew so hard you had to pull your shirt collar up over your face to just barely see and breathe and still at times it was damned hard to do either. When a dust storm happened the boys would plod along the road's edge, heads held low as they shuffled along, no discussions about baseball or any of the girls at school or what life might be like right now in a real city, a place neither boy had been. Dusty days almost always meant heat too, oppressive heat so dry it hurt your head and your chest and could make your nose bleed. Their uncle Ned, who looked after their Ma some since Pa took his fall, bought them each a new pair of shoes come spring if their old ones were too worn or had become much too small. The brothers figured they were pretty lucky; some boys they knew didn't have shoes at all. Despite almost two year's difference in their age, and the difference in their height, the boys wore the same size shoes. Clem, the older of the two, short for 'Clement' but only his Memaw ever called him that, was a mostly shy, wispy-will of twelve years old (and five months, he'd tell you), light brown hair, and often as many pimples as freckles. Terrence, his younger brother, was shorter by a couple of inches, hair a bright shock of orange, and nearly as many freckles as clear places of pink skin on his cheeks. At times, often when he thought about things hard one side of his mouth and his lower lip would sag and droop a little but he never seemed to notice or if he did he never commented on this. Terrence walked funny because one leg was shorter than the other, or one leg was longer than the other, they could never remember which. Clem used to poke fun, telling Terrence: if you was to walk out in a field by yourself you'd walk 'round in big circles forever. Terrence wasn't really sure if this was true but he stuck beside his brother anyway, just in case it was. They brushed against one another comfortably as they went. Clem looked out for him the best he could, around bigger boys.

One day, when the wind was blowing lightly and the dust and heat were low, they were arguing about baseball and whether or not Babe Ruth was the best hitter ever when a small fox ran across a culvert and disappeared into a cornfield.

"Hey Clem- a cat! Did ya see it?"

"Not cat, kit," Clem corrected. "Kit. It's a baby fox."

"Nah uh. I seen it. Cat."

Clem put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "You seen it. We seen it. Seen the same thing. I seen a kit fox."

"Nah uh."

"C'mon," Clem steered his brother into a field of high corn, all of it taller than Clem and he was near six foot; well, five-foot nine anyway, but he'd grow to six foot eventually -at least- like Pa. Clem made a wedge with his arms, his hands pressed together in front of his face, and the stalks peeled apart like saluting soldiers. Terrence followed close behind.

"But Baberu," he pronounced it as one word, "he could be da pitcher too, so he's better."

"We're talking 'bout who's the best hitter ever, best of all time. Bein' a pitcher don't have nothin' to do with bein' a hitter."

"Hey Clem! We gonna get lost? Gonna get lost in here? I cain't see my way."

"Just follow behind me. Hold onta m' shirt if you want."

"Nah," Terrence said, because he was ten-years old now and ten-year olds didn't hold onto their brother's hand or the tails of their brother's shirt. But then he did grab on anyway, and did relax some. Terrence had been with Pa when Pa had had his fall. No one was really sure what had happened to Terrence; the plow wound up on top of Pa and Terrence was sitting on a rock sucking at his thumb when the Wheatons happened by and heard Pa's moaning and screaming. Doc said he couldn't find anything wrong with Terrence, but their other Memaw who was still alive back then, said that maybe Terrence: had got a rung bell -or something, meaning his head, and that all manner of strange things had happened to men and animals alike that got 'rung bells'. Since the accident, Pa spent most of his time in bed, and Terrence was just a little…off.

"I reckon' I know where the den's at. I'll show ya. Bet ya there's pro'lly a few of 'em in there."

After what felt like hours of never-ending stalks, the sky feathered slowly back into view. Clem looked up toward the bright blue and the thin clouds. Some dust blew and momentarily stung his eyes. He wiped his mouth automatically on his shirtsleeve and wished he hadn't forgotten his kerchief at home.

Terrence hurried to keep up. "Where we goin' to now?"

They walked side-by-side out along the space between the Wheatons and the Platts, the Platts having the biggest farm that Clem knew about anywhere in the county, along to a gradual rise and a small copse of old mesquite and cedar where there sat perched a really old graveyard, and a spot where a homestead had been before it likely burned down like so many others in the days before the fire brigade.

"Why's the boneyard say them? Say 'Platt'? Wrote on it?"

"I reckon' this is their hillside," Clem replied. "They own it. Now, hush up if you want to see them kits. Pretty sure the den is just yonder."

Terrence was slowly beginning to realize that Clem often glamorized things or told outright fibs in order to distract him from asking all of his questions. Clem did enjoy the solitude of his own thoughts mostly but he'd overheard James Wheaton talking at school and James was telling Terry Blanchard about the kit foxes he'd seen and where he'd seen them when James and his Pa had been out hunting for possum or the like.

"Ssh," Clem whispered and motioned with his hand, then bent down and crouched low behind some bushes and a mound of rocks.

Both boys raised up slowly to barely peak over the thorny bramble. "That's it over there. See that hole 'neath the rock?" Terrence nodded excitedly. They held their breath.

Terrence started to get dizzy so he breathed first. "I don't see 'em, Clem! Don't see nothin'."He blurted a bit too loudly.

They stood despite having been hidden for only a matter of moments. Clem said: "Me neither. Maybe the one we seen is still coming back. Pro'lly with its Ma. We kin sit. Wait in the graveyard for a spell. See if he comes back. We kin see 'em from in there." Clem pointed.

"I dunno, Clem," Terrence began to worry his hands. "C'aint we stay back behind them bush instead?"

"Don't be a sissy. Nobody's been put in the ground in here for years. Not since we been alive, that's for sure. Probably since before Pa's been alive even." Terrence didn't really see how that mattered, but Clem rarely called him 'sissy' and he sure didn't want to hear it again. Clem hopped over the worn and mostly grey picket fence that hadn't seen whitewash in years. The fence was surprising intact and relatively stout. Terrence walked around and opened the squeaky iron front gate that had long ago stopped closing all the way. There were maybe twenty markers in all, mostly simple crosses, and five stone markers all embossed with "Platt" and carved with various angels and oak leaves, the stones interspersed between some smaller mesquite bramble that surely appeared over the years and neglect. The etchings had lost their fight to time and weather and were nearly flush, some filled with a fine moss or mold nearly black in color. The largest was an obelisk taller than Clem that stood majestically over plots for the husband and wife, the original homesteaders. Clem sat along the base, the shady side cool enough in contrast to the sharp sun that it almost made him shiver. Terrence fidgeted with his hands and finally sat tentatively on top of a smaller marker beside.

"We kin still see that den from here. Betcha a nickel we might see 'em come right out of the corn, and then go right down into the hole."

Terrence said quickly: "Don't got no nickel." Then, to be sure he wasn't unknowingly agreeing to some sort of wager, he quickly changed the topic: "Them foxes, they ain't scared 'a ghosts from the boneyard?"

"Aw, ain't no ghosts in here. You seen any? No. I told you." Clem stood and turned and rubbed at the face of the obelisk. "Now, look here. Says that Benjamin Platt was buried, here on this spot, in eighteen fifty-three. There aint no stone like this, granite I believe, anywhere 'round here, so someone had to carve this stone and then bring it here on a cart, or maybe a train even, from far away. From a real city pro'lly, like Kansas City, or maybe St. Louis."

"We ever gonna get to go to one? To a real big city, Clem? Like Pa said we could? He said he'd take us. One day he'd take us."

"Yeah, we will," Clem said, believing his words but realizing that it may be without their Pa when they did.

"Will the doc fix me all up then?"

"Yep," Clem said with somewhat edgy confidence, parroting what their deceased Memaw had also told him which was that places like New York and St. Louis had docs who knew how to do all kinds of things that their doc in Twin Forks, Arkansas could not, or would not, do. Clem knew this cost money and he was pretty sure lots of it. So he and Terrence had been saving every penny they could get their hands on for as long as he could remember. Right now, as of today, they had seventeen dollars and sixteen cents, a fortune, stashed carefully in a tobacco tin, beneath a rock out behind where the old outhouse used to sit, a rock so heavy it took them both to raise it just a little bit. Clem had seen a fifty-dollar bill – twice – and a hundred-dollar bill once when he and Pa were bringing some grain to market. All the men at the barn seemed to take note of the hundred dollar bill but tried to look like they weren't when it was changing hands. As far as Clem knew, a hundred dollars was the most money you could have. This made fifty dollars seem somewhat attainable but it would take a long time, maybe even most of their lives. They'd get the money, Clem was determined, but more and more he was hoping that the city doc could fix his brother's 'bell' first, even if it meant Terrence always walking with a limp. Clem didn't tell him this because he figured Terrence might not understand, because truthfully he didn't understand and merely parroted what he'd heard about 'rung bells' if somebody should ask. Clem figured he might have to look after his brother forever, even after he was married and had his own place, like over at the Kendricks' where they had his friend Huey Kendricks' crazy uncle Nate living with them for all that Clem could remember. Nate had mostly grey hair despite being reportedly in his twenties, and walked around all day in his bare feet and a filthy, moth-eaten robe. Most folks chose to walk on the other side of the street when they saw Nate Kendricks. Terrence wasn't 'crazy'; he was just a little bit off.

Terrence was pattering on about 'Baberute' and stealing glances for the fox kits, but also for any ghosts that might be lurking behind a marker or bush despite the high, bright sun. Clem folded his hands on his belly and crossed his legs; his best pondering position, leaning his head back and watching some lazy clouds decide which way to blow.

"Hey Clem! There he is! Lookit!" Terrence whispered a little loudly and as Clem followed his brother's finger he caught just a glimpse of the fox kit as it spied them then turned and darted back into the corn.

"Ssh. C'mon," Clem moved as quietly as he could around the back side of the graveyard, keeping one eye on the exact spot he'd seen the fox kit poke out from, dipping down low to move under some mesquite branches, stopping just inside the empty back corner of the graveyard where the tree and weed cover was at it thickest. He bent a couple of branches back out of the way despite the noise so they wouldn't get hit in the face, then motioned for Terrence to sit on the ground just behind the fence where Clem knelt behind him. They stared out toward the hole beneath the rock. After about five minutes, suddenly, there was a strange sort of noise, not really a bark, more of a queer cackle, followed by another, and Terrence's face broke into a broad smile. First one, then two, and then three kits popped out of the hole followed by an adult, probably their Ma who was making most of the strange sounds. This prompted the fourth, missing kit to appear from the cornfield, still tentative and casting a glance in the direction of the boys then apparently not seeing them before trotting over and sidling up to its mother. Terrence simply could not contain himself and stood and climbed over the low picket fence. He tripped on his way and spooked the foxes back into their den before he's snuck two steps. Clem wasn't real sore; he was just happy to have seen them.

"Aw," Terrence could not hide his disappointment.

"What, did ya think they was just gonna let you grab 'em? Bet their Ma would've bit ya good if you'd 'a even tried."

Terrence went over to the hole and squatted low with his knees spread, trying in vain to see down into it.

"You ain't gonna see 'em. C'mon. Let's go." Clem moved away.

Terrence waited for one last desperate second then sprang up and hurried after his older brother.

Clem went along a trail that lead through a thicket but didn't seem to have been travelled upon in a long, long time, moving weeds and branches out of the way, bending some so they wouldn't snap back and catch Terrence harshly.

"Hey, Clem. Whassat?"

Clem was hungry now and wanted to get home so he could have something to eat before they set about their chores. Slightly peeved, he stopped and turned on his heel. "Huh?"

"Lookit," Terrence had stopped and had his back to the trail so Clem backtracked a few paces to see what the boy was pointing at.

"What is it, Terrence? Let's get on home. I'm hungry. Ain't you?"

"Yeah, Clem, but lookit," Terrence pointed earnestly to an opening in the mesquite. Clem came up beside him and looked where Terrence was pointing, through the small but thick copse to a mini hill and an indentation in it.

What the heck? Clem thought, moving past Terrence for closer inspection. He'd never been on the particular trail which he figured was still on Platt land, or maybe shared space with the Wheatons. Moving closer the boys came upon an opening in the hill, a small cave nearly invisible behind thick overgrowth.

"How'd you see it?" Clem asked, and they both approached timidly, highly interested but wary of what might be living inside. There were Javelina, wild pigs that sometime grew to deadly size, as well as an occasional panther or bobcat. But nothing had been moving through this overgrowth in some time, at least not from this side. Clem pushed through the thick brambles, trying not to get cut or scraped and to do his best to stamp some aside to make a path.

"It's a cave, ain't it?" Terrence stated the obvious.

"Too big for a den. 'Less there's 'a elephant 'round here..."

"No ediphants here," Terrence agreed boldly, but then how did he know for sure?

Clem added: "'Cept in the circus. Maybe one of 'em done escaped." Clem's attention was focused on the cave. He pressed into the opening and the boys stopped still.

"It's dark, Clem." And it was, far too dark to explore; and far too dangerous. "Lookit here," Terrence was in a mood more inquisitive than wary. He took a step to the edge of the cave pressed tightly behind several tall bushes. There were signs that there had once been a door or some kind of concealment blind attached but the make-shift hinges had been taken or disintegrated already and left only discolored outlines and a few slats of crumbling wood.

Clem leaned in and looked more closely. Then, he looked around, moving dirt and groundcover with his shoe. But he kept being drawn back to the cave. "We need to bring us a lamp. C'mon, let's get on home. We know where it is now; here, close it back up. We kin come back later with a lamp."

"Kin we come back over t'night?" Terrence was nearly breathless with anticipation.

"Don't know 'bout that." Clem was pretty sure that he could sneak out after dusk without his Ma knowing but he didn't know if Terrence could keep quiet about it or make a silent escape but he wasn't about to exclude him from the adventure, especially since Terrence was the one who noticed the cave in the first place. "What would we tell Mawe're goin' to do? She'd worry plenty, pro'lly even tell Pa that we snuck off."

"We could come back 'round after school?"

Clem thought about this, stealing glances at the black shape. It seemed to shimmer in the shade of the hot sunlight. "It'd be too dark tomorrow too then, just like today. We'd have to bring a lamp to school," he noted mostly to himself. This just did not seem realistic.

"Nah-uh. We could…we could take one lamp inta them bushes…an' then go 'n get it again on the way home, on the way to school tomorrow!"

Clem started, a little shocked at Terrence's prescience. That would work as long as they weren't seen by one of the neighbors.

They hurried home, Terrence actually walking ahead a few times; babbling endlessly now not just about Baberute, but mostly guessing about what might be in the cave. The whole time they'd been doing their chores all Clem would think about was the cave. He didn't expect to find anything inside because it was obvious that someone had used it a long time ago, and whoever that had been, probably someone's grandpa when he was their age was his guess, whoever that had been undoubtedly took everything interesting with them whenever they decided it was no longer useful or fun. Heck, they even took the hinges and door or blind cover, or whatever had been attached at the entrance.

Yet still…

Clem made sure he got some matches from the school storeroom since in his excitement to get the lamp he forgot to take some matches from home. There were six or seven boxes strewn near some old lamps that never got used since the electric lights had been installed and after he tested a couple to be sure they still lit he helped himself to two boxes and secreted them in his britches pocket. It didn't feel like stealing because no one ever used them anyway except in an emergency when the electricity didn't work. He kept fidgeting in his seat during instruction and drew suspicious looks from some of the boys who, like Clem were always starved for anything remotely interesting to talk about.

Clem knew that Terrence had trouble keeping secrets. There was the issue of whose land the cave was on. There were no issues of trespass; farms were too big for fences and half of the valley was kin one way or another. But if word got out about some secret discovery Clem would bet that someone would try to lay claim to it, some adult, or one of the local toughs, and he and Terrence would be on the outside; heck, that's what he'd probably try to do if one of his schoolmates had found a hidden cave on their Pa's farm. He and Terrence generally kept to themselves, but their neighbor Jeremiah sometimes came around and walked with them on the days when he went to school, which were rare. Here he was today, having caught up with the boys luckily just after they stashed the lamp in some bushes. Now Clem had the added problem of whether to include Jeremiah in their discovery which really wasn't much of anything right now other than a hole in the earth that likely hadn't been visited in a really long time. They could cut back through the corn and lose him there but such mischief would be difficult with Terrence in tow and might result in Jeremiah getting sore. He was pretty big, a lot bigger than Clem, and anyhow Clem didn't want trouble. Clem could tell that Terrence was also thinking about similar matters and what to do about them when the afternoon bell pealed and thirty or so kids poured from the schoolhouse and into the play yard. Just as they met in their usual spot near a big willow tree they were saved as Jeremiah's Pa was waiting to take Jeremiah somewhere other than straight home so Clem and Terrence waved to him as he climbed up into his Pa's truck then they quickly scampered off before any other boys got ideas to follow.

"You got them matches?" Terrence asked for the third time. Clem didn't answer him and unknowingly quickened his stride, the pace already a little hard for his brother and his mis-sized leg to keep up.

"Whaddya reckon''s in there, Clem? In the cave?" Terrence asked for the thirtieth time.

"Told you that's what we're gonna find out." Clem answered patiently.

They got back to the bushes and looked around, twice, for someone watching, before retrieving the lamp. It was one of those mining lamps with a tin plate behind the wick housing to block the wind and direct the light. Clem hadn't had need for one in a long while but he was able to get it lit on the second try then turned the high, smoky, dirty flame down to a settled glow and held the lamp into the cave. Terrence was again more excited than scared and pushed right up against Clem.

"Stand back some. Don't break the lamp; could cause a fire. Grab ahold 'a my shirt."

Okay, Clem.

"Darn hard to see anything at all in here. Watch it for cobwebs, spiders. Pro'lly be some scorpions too," Clem added but did not mention the most likely problem: snakes; rattlers; because Terrence was deathly afraid of them and Clem wasn't too far behind. They crouched a little, not because the ceiling demanded it but because there were all sorts of ancient cobwebs and dangling roots, a fine dust and dirt on everything, dust motes suspended in the air. Clem moved the weak light beam slowly from side-to-side. They went in about fifteen feet where the tunnel widened into a space big enough to fully stand in, maybe ten foot square. Clem held the lamp toward the ceiling then leaned his head back and sniffed the air. "There's fresh air back here from somewhere. Kin ya see where?" Terrence had been breathing air the whole time and couldn't hardly see the walls let alone the air so he didn't answer and pondered the question. Clem said: "Yeah, there's a crack up in there, see it? Must be lettin' in the air," Clem brought the light back down and began a closer inspection of the space.

"Clem lookit!" Terrence moved quickly past him to a small, crudely fashioned bench and a broken produce crate. There was dripped wax all over the side of the crate and the bench had some things carved into the top. Clem set the lamp on the bench and both boys squatted down for closer inspection.

"Says: 'Jacob wuz here'." Then: "This here says 'Merry Mike'. An' over here this looks like '1878'. I bet it's old man Platt, the old grandpa what died, heck, when you was 'bout three."

"If I was three then you 'as four." Terrence grasped some math.

"No," Clem patiently reiterated, "I'm seventeen months older'n you. So, sometimes I'm one year but sometimes two. I was five when he died if I remember right."

Terrence wasn't really interested in math. "Why would he come inta here?"

"If he come in in 1878, well then he woulda been younger, maybe our age now, like I said yesterday. That's why maybe it hadn't looked like anyone been in here in a real long time. All the cobwebs an' all. Pro-lly, he come in here like a fort. I bet he coulda had a fire, for light and in the wintertime. See the lamp smoke goes up through that crack in the ceiling? The crack where we could feel the air come in."

"So he would go to sleep in here?"

"I dunno. Maybe. A fort's like a place to go'n meet with your friends, hide out if he had to. Maybe from some Indians or something."

Clem regretted saying 'Indians' right after it crossed his lips since it was another one of Terrence's favorite subjects, from the first book he'd ever read (sort of) without any help: "Little Indians," by Mabel LaRue, but Terrence was busy looking in the dim lights through the swirling dust motes, frantically around the bench and the dust-covered dirt floor for something, for anything of interest. There were some old newspapers in one corner that were in surprisingly good condition, and some old rope which was not.

"This ain't nuthin' but trash," Terrence held some of the rope up with dismay.

"Here's an old bottle," Clem bent and picked it up. "Take it. We'll throw rocks at it on the way home."

Terrence took the bottle grudgingly. He looked into every corner and cranny one last time then started kicking his toes into the ground, then back and forth with one foot. A frustrated gouge appeared. "Ain't nothing here," he repeated his dismay.

"What, did ya think was gonna be in some old cave? Blackbeard's Treasure?" Terrence didn't know about this. All of the beards he had seen were black except for Mr. McNerny who had a red one but Terrence thought it might be from some barn paint.

"Who's got 'a treasure?"

"Ah, nevermind. Look, we could come out here some. Make this to be our fort. Then no one would know. Light a fire in the wintertime, when it's cold. Here look, ashes. Old man Platt must've been out here some in the winter."

"I guess," a somber Terrence kept grudgingly gouging the dirt with his toe.

"Better quit that. Gonna wear a hole in your shoe."

"Yeah," Terrence agreed, but he kept on doing it.

"C'mon," Clem grabbed the lamp and headed for the entrance drawing darkness like a blanket in his wake. Terrence turned to follow then stopped.

"Wait, hey Clem! Hold up! I seen something."

Clem stopped walking and turned with the lamp, illuminating his brother's freckled, cherub face somewhat brightly against the dark background. Terrence was pointing behind them back into to open space and shaking his hand fervently.

Clem took two steps back into the space and held the lamp aloft casting eerie shadows licking the walls "Ain't nothin' here, Terrence. We done looked everywhere."

"No, there, down where I was rubbin'." Terrence darted back a few more steps and disappeared into the darkness alone- shocking. "Ow," Terrence cried out and Clem heard him stumble and hit the ground, hard, as he must have tripped.

"You okay?" Clem reached him with the light as Terrence was standing back up. Dust and dirt were swirling everythere.

"Yeah, but c'mere. Lookit," Terrence squatted over the gouge he'd made and clawed at the hard packed dirt with his fingers, ignoring any pain as it ground into his nails. Clem set the lamp down right next to Terrence and knelt. The younger boy was digging feverishly. Suddenly there was the flash of silver, dirt covered yet shiny in the dim light and against hard-pressed dark soil. Clearly visible in the flickering lamplight. The edge of a coin.

"It's a dollar! It's a dollar, Clem! Tole you I seen somethin'!" Terrence squealed then quickly deferred to the bigger boy who set the lamp off to the side as he dropped onto his knees and worked the coin free.

"It's a half-dollar." Now Clem was excited too. He rubbed the dirt off and held it to the lamp glow.

"Wow, wow, lemme see, lemmeseeit! Hey Clem!"

"It's yers, Terrence. You found it fair 'n square." Clem handed him the coin. "Don't lose it, though. It brings us up, almost to eighteen dollars in our savings."

"Ain't half 'a dollar," Terrence examined the piece more closely, near impossible in the dim light. "Aw, it don't look right. We got them other ones. It ain't real."

Clem was still excited. "'A course; it's real silver. Caint you tell?" But the more he looked at it the less sure he really was. It sure looked silver but Terrence was right, it wasn't like a regular half-dollar.

"Maybe there's some more," Terrence dropped back down and started clawing so hard that Clem knew he'd better stop him before Terrence worked his hands bloody. But, maybe there was more, maybe a whole trove!- so Clem knelt down beside him and dug too.

After five minutes and a couple of split fingernails, blood mixing in the dirt, Clem gave up. "Stop now. C'mon. And we'd better fill it in, to be sure in case someone tracks us in here or something."

"Fill it?"

"We'll bring back in a shovel maybe or something. We're took too long already as is. Ma's gonna see we're all dirty and we hadn't even started our chores. Look at your britches." Clem held up the lamp. The flickering light didn't fill the room but it illuminated Terrence's face which was a hodgepodge of emotions. They filled in the hole just enough with their hands but still had trouble pulling themselves away. Clem moved first and the sudden darkness finally overwhelmed Terrence's interest and he followed his brother out of the cave.

"Kin I see it?" Clem motioned for the coin as the two walked along.

Terrence tried to fish the half-dollar from his britches pocket while they were walking but this didn't work. In fact he stumbled and skinned one knee pretty good. "Ow!" He cried out.

"Yer okay. Give it here."

Terrence handed him the coin then tended to his scrape, flicking tiny pebbles and sand through the hole in his britches from the now oozy red. A little trickle of blood flowed down his shin. He hurried to keep up.

"1802. It's 'a old one. 'S why it looks different, I'll bet. But see here- says: United States of America." And: "Half Dol. That mean's half-a-dollar. Means its got less silver in it than a dollar. You have a silver dollar, it has as much as two of these, see?"

"It don't look right," Terrence was beginning to think it wasn't much treasure at all and Clem still wasn't entirely sure; he'd never seen one that looked like this one but then he'd seen some different dimes and nickels. As long as it said: United States of America- he was pretty sure it was a real coin; and he was almost certain it was struck from silver. Maybe it wouldn't be worth fifty cents any more. That could be a problem. But he felt that it had to be worth something. Then Clem began to imagine them returning the next day. Who was he kidding? That night he and Terrence would risk it for sure- and then what if there were a lot more of them hidden in the cave floor. His mouth dry, his excitement soured at this possibility as newfound wealth on such a scale could never be kept from others, certainly not Ma with whom they would want to share first thing anyhow but then neighbors too, boys at school. No one had ever found treasure around here; just yesterday they'd sat for half an hour just to see some fox kits and they'd worked to keep that secret. News of buried treasure would carry to neighboring towns. Maybe big cities. Also, it wasn't their land; it wasn't even their Pa's land which in and of itself would have been complicated. The Platts and the Wheatons; one of them could claim deed to the cave, or maybe it lay on the borderline between them and then there would be argument, a dispute, the kind that could become a feud. Clem already learned that about arguments surrounding money. As he got nearer to home, all of these possible drawbacks were making his head hurt and his assurance of a night time visit wane. But Clem kept it all to himself. There was no calming Terrence completely but Clem had never mentioned the possibility of returning at night so after school the next day was what Terrence assumed was their earliest option and he was still excited that it was he who had thought to hide a lamp in the bushes. Clem was thinking about how they could walk half to school with a shovel too without being noticed, and how to keep Terrence quiet and keep their Ma from any further speculation until they figured it all out. Terrence couldn't help himself and, despite stern looks from Clem, babbled something about buried treasure, Ma as usual didn't pay Terrence's babbling much mind.

They settled on a spade, what Terrence called an 'ants shovel' and stashed it in the same bush where they secreted the lamp. During the day, both boys were chastened for inattention by their teachers, Terrence more than once (but this was not unusual) and Clem almost slipped up during lunchtime when he asked his friend Stanley Winslow if he knew what you were supposed to do about it if you found something on someone else's farm.

"Like what?" Stanley had asked and Clem, who hadn't thought that far ahead blurted: "I dunno. Like money maybe…or something else," and just like that he was backpedaling. Clem quickly told the boy he'd found some arrowheads and thought maybe he saw an old tomahawk that might be worth something so that's why he asked but the boy still eyed him suspiciously when he walked away. Clem was starting to feel a little guilty about the half-dollar; just in and of itself it was a lot of money. But, then again it was so old that if someone's grandpa, who was probably already dead, dropped it playing in a cave when he was a boy, could his descendant family really lay claim? They could if there were lots of half dollars. They could if there were more. How many more? Maybe they would just find one other, or a quarter, or a dime. Heck, it was worth any of the trouble they'd suffered or would for a penny. After a day's pondering he settled arbitrarily on two dollars. Clem luxuriated in the thought of a two-dollar minimum they would have to unearth before he would feel compelled to tell Ma, and then hope for the best, hope for some kind of a reward if it was a lot more that they dug up. He looked at his brother as they hurried nervously away from school. How would any further discoveries remain secret when Clem himself had all but slipped up and told the Winslow boy earlier today? After nearly twenty-four hours of wild speculation Clem feared only 'Blackbeard's Treasure' itself would satisfy Terrence, and only then assuming it was too big for the two of them to carry out once they'd found it.

"Hold the light now, Terrence. I'm better at digging," Clem took the spade and dropped to his knees. "Don't let it swing, so I kin see. And don't burn none 'a my hair. Or yers."

"I won't, I won't- promise! C'mon, Clem, dig!"

The flame flicked and danced shadows on the cave walls as the lamp swung every time Terrence fidgeted which was often. Both boys gasped with every ping of the metal spade against what turned out to be rock as the hole grew very slowly from the shallow impression left by Terrence's toe dragging the day before to a hole big enough to fit a small pail inside. Then a large pail. Clem coughed some from the swirling dust.

Frustrated, Terrence lurched forward. "Lemme dig it." In his haste to grab the spade Terrence almost dropped the lamp.

"You drop that lamp we ain't gonna be able to see'n get out 'a here." Clem scolded. "Give it here," Clem took the lamp and handed Terrence the spade. "Go ahead," he was getting frustrated. Terrence took it in both hands and began driving it down from above his head into the hole. Debris flew. "Easy there, don't be breakin' that spade. And don't rip your britches no more neither. Ma'll be plenty sore."

Terrence was hardly listening. Clink, clink, clink –dirt and rock flew.

Ten minutes later, with the hole now large enough to fit a milking stool Terrence seemed to lose interest as quickly as the excitement had come on. "Ain't nothing but dirt'n rocks, Clem," he wiped his nose on his arm, smearing a black streak across one freckled cheek.

"Still got the half a dollar. You ever find a half-dollar before?"

"Uh uh."

"It's a lot. Makes almost eighteen we got, savings. All tole." They began to fill in the hole but then walked back toward the blinding sunlight without filling it to flush.

Clem extinguished the lamp and both boys blocked the sun with their free hands as they left the cave and their eyes adjusted.

They ambled along. Clem asked: "So, if we got eighteen all tole then how much more do we need to get to fifty?"

"Dunno, Clem. Don't do maths so good."

"I know," he put his hand on the smaller boy's shoulder. "Just try. You know how much fifty is, right?" Terrence nodded. "How 'bout like this. You know what five is, huh?"

"Yeah, five is this," Terrence held up his free hand, fingers spread wide. "One-two-free-four-five."

"Okay. So now, what's ten then?"

He dropped the spade and stopped walking. "Ten? Ten's this and this, right?" Holding up both hands, fingers spread wide, then he bent and picked the spade back up. As they wended along the back trail the boys didn't take notice of the figure that moved in behind them. Stanley, the boy from Clem's class, who eyed them as their shapes got smaller, then he followed the tracks and went to the mouth of the hidden cave.

"Should we go look for more 'a them caves?" Terrence asked as they came up on their road. "Maybe another's got a half-a-dollar?"

Clem scoffed. "Cave wadn't so great. I mean, it's cool inside 'n all, but we'd hafta have lamps or make fires and someone would see if we was in there all the time. And that there lamp oil costs money."

"But maybe there's more half-a-dollars. I'll do diggin'."

"Half a dollar? What's this now?" Stanley called out spinning both boys around. Clem reddened somewhat as if he got caught by an adult at some mischief. Surprisingly, Terrence looked more annoyed than anything else.

"Hi, Stanley" Clem said. "We was just talking, is all."

"Nah, you ain't. I seen ya been in that tunnel back there. I seen ya."

Clem crossed his arms. "So what? So what if we went in? Ain't your place. What's it to you?"

"I reckon' ya found somethin' what's worth half a dollar,'s what I think. Might go have me a look. Awful dark in there though. But maybe I'll go on home 'n get my cousin and me a lamp and come back and have a look around in there."

"Jerome's a shitterbox," Terrence spat, clearly not enamored with Stanley's cousin Jerome or the prospect of maybe having Stanley and Jerome return with their own lamp and find some coins that he and Clem had somehow missed.

"He'll whup your ass good, retard," Stanley shot back and made Clem squirm a little, friendly enough with Stanley but wary of defending Terrence here as he was fearful himself of Stanley's cousin Jerome, a big, sometimes mean and rowdy boy, and unsure of Jerome's reaction to Terrence's mentioning.

Clem said: "Terrence don't mean nothing. You know."

Stanley let it pass. "That where ya found that Injun stuff you was talkin' 'bout? Ain't no Injun stuff worth no half a dollar, not even a good tomahawk. Heck, we got arrowheads and all all over out at our place. Ain't worth no penny even."

Now, Terrence was confused. "What Injun stuff?"

Clem decided to come clean before some wild rumor started and spiraled out of control. "Okay. Lookit, we found a half-dollar. Well, Terrence did, but not in that cave, just walking around near it. Show him, Terrence." Terrence fished the silver coin from the front pocket of his britches. He was surprised when Clem said he could hold onto it like that instead of immediately putting it into the cigar tin and hiding it with the rest of their money beneath the heavy rock that it took both of them to lift.

"That ain't no half a dollar," Stanley said, eying it suspiciously. He reached out for it but Terrence reeled it back in. "Lemme see it. I ain't gonna take it. Lemme look at it," he outstretched a hand.

"It's okay," Clem told his brother.

"This ain't real." Stanley looked it over. "Don't look right."

Clem took the coin back and made his case."'Cause it's old. See, says from 1802. More'n a hunnert years."

"Yeah, I seen it. Well, maybe. Ain't that the Platts what own that tunnel anyhow?"

"I tole you, he found it walking. We was just lookin' around that tunnel. It's cool in there outta the sun. We might make it inta a clubhouse. If we want."

"Did ya ask old man Platt if ya could?"

"How do you know it's his anyhow? Could be Wheatons what own it. Ain't no one what's been in there for a real long time, that's fer certain."

Stanley scratched his head and stared at the coin as he didn't know for sure. "Oughta go 'n' ask Matt Duggan's grandpa. He been to work at that bank what's over in Barling for a long time. Bet he could tell you that it ain't real."

"Is too real," Terrence blurted.

"Don't matter how old it is," Clem added, but truthfully he wasn't certain.

"Let's take it an' see grandpa Duggan then."

"Caint go now. We got chores."

"Yeah," Stanley looked down somewhat dejectedly as he had them too.

"Maybe later on though," Clem offered.

"Yeah. Okay. See ya."

"See ya," both boys said in unison as Stanley turned off the trail and headed west toward his Pa's farm. Clem thought the boy gave up a little too easily, not demanding to see exactly where Terrence had unearthed such fortune. It washed over Clem how lucky they might have been for only finding the one piece, and the fiasco that might have been if they were hauling 'Blackbeard's Treasure' home when Stanley found them. Letting his mind run, he nearly giggled with the idea of Platts and Wheatons shooting it out over some bump of dusty land as if it suddenly became the sole source of water in the county, wild greed causing otherwise kin-like neighbors to engage in mortal combat. Could start another old-time feud Clem had heard some things about, people hating one another for no reason but their last names, over a long period of time. Then, suddenly fear grabbed him- what if Stanley was right and the half-dollar was too old and wasn't worth anything? Their good fortune proved as folly, what if? Then it would be just another day of chores, or of school and chores, or church and chores, all totaled two more wasted days gone by. They wouldn't have their eighteen dollars and three cents, only seventeen dollars and fifty-three cents, and would be set back that much further from their goal of fifty dollars saved.

Two

The Little Red River ran about a half mile from their farm in Twin Forks, in the township of Greenwood, specifically. Sometime back when their Papaw had first settled here he dug a little culvert from the side of the Little Red a couple of feet deep and maybe three or four wide that naturally widened in the springtime or after a big rain but normally the water just ran an inch or so deep right down its center. It allowed them to grow the peach trees that lined one side of the back field. The trees were as a last line of defense, behind which was just plain land, dry, flat and dusty straight into Oklahoma and east Texas, seemingly on forever after that. Pa had said numerous times that if it weren't for that culvert they probably would have had to pick up and move on years ago, unable to properly irrigate the rotating fields of cotton, corn and wheat, or the constant water demands of the peach trees. Tending to the peaches had become exclusive domain for Clem and Terrence after Pa's fall. It was heavy, laborious work, the fallen fruit alone an enormous attractant of animal and vermin, and Clem particularly took offense to the smell of rotting fruit on the ground. Terrence still found frolic in practicing his pitches as, pretending to be the 'Babe' he lobbed often damp or downright dripping peaches out into whatever was growing nearby, confident that between harvest time and the tilling for replanting the pits would go unnoticed. Clem found no such joy anymore, although when he was younger and out with Pa he'd been known to toss at least a couple himself. Terrence would often have peach juice running down his throwing arm by the time the boys were done with the raking or picking or pruning or sitting around for hours with their air pump rifle killing rats, armadillos, squirrels and possums, sometimes unlucky birds if they just plain got bored. Clem was glad that Terrence seemed to enjoy the pruning, which often involved climbing up into a tree beyond the reach of their ladder or keeping one foot precariously balanced on the topmost rung. Clem did not like heights. For some reason either as a result of his age or the accident Terrence scampered up the tallest trees and hung, often by one arm, with no trepidation. Pa had bought a Ford motorcar for driving to town but not a farm truck; nor had he replaced the tractor which had broken (apparently beyond repair) when it rolled over on top of him. Clem and Terrence had to use the old cart and a mule to haul with, which meant they had to walk along side, making the mile or so back to the house seem nearly as long as the three mile walk to school. Pa's taking to bed also meant the boys had to handle much of the constant repair work to the fencing and the sties, replacing building siding or roofing lost to high winds and the like, often without the help of their Uncle Ned.

"Terrence, clean them filthy hands. Floor's getting sticky from your mess."

"Okay, Ma."

Terrence turned back and went outside to the barrel that had diverted culvert water always running through it. He scooped out a pot full and poured one on each hand away from the barrel like Pa had shown him so no one would have to drink any that went back in, then he went to splash some on his face just in case Ma sent him back for that too which she often did. Terrence dropped the pot full into the barrel in his haste to get back inside when he heard his Ma say to Clem: "What's this 'bout ya boys diggin' over at the Platts?"

"Who said?" Terrence burst out as he rushed in, letting the door slam behind him which for some reason annoyed Pa now no end and often elicited a loud moan or garbled rebuke from his bedroom, which in fact had been moved into the old sitting room on the first floor to accommodate himafter his fall. In lieu of a wall or double set of doors they hung a couple of old bed quilts which did little to keep everyone from hearing everyone else's business. Had it been Clem burst out like that Ma would have issued a reprimand or certainly a stern look but she's been badly beaten down in the useless fight to correct Terrence and his outbursts so she turned back to Clem and put a hand on her hip. Ma was a strong woman though not a particularly large one. More like average one might figure. But she'd been lifting hay bales and kept up with five brothers when she was a girl and was often known as a woman to speak her mind regardless of the surrounds.

"Never you mind where I heard it. Ya'll been diggin' out there or not?"

Moments like these put Clem in a difficult position. Normally one to tell the truth, he was becoming aware as he got older that there were different kinds of truths and different levels of lies, fibs and deceptions. Skirting a question where the answer was irrelevant to the inquiring party was often better than long drawn-out explanations or subsequent lectures. One problem was that Terrence didn't seem to understand this and had been known to blab the actual 'truth', often at inopportune times.

"Not really, Ma," Clem began, casting quick eyes to quiet his younger brother as they helped Ma set bowls of steaming food onto the table.

"Now what'n the hell does that mean? Either ya'll been diggin' or ya ain't?"

Terrence could not keep silent "I 's diggin' in dirt with my toe!- with my shoe. Found half a dollar.".

"What's this?" Ma was confused. She had fixed Pa a plate so she strode off then returned and took the boys' hands at the table for grace.

Clem decided there was no risk in coming clean; they hadn't found enough to warrant mention nor had they dug a hole large enough to be a problem considering they had filled it back in pretty good and it was in an obviously unused cave.

"Terrence was just digging 'round with his foot 'n we found an old half-dollar in a cave up near Platt's old boneyard."

"Boneyard? Ya mean graveyard?"

"Yes'm. Graveyard."

"We looked for some ghosts," Terrence said, spooning food onto his plate and shoving some into his mouth with his bare and still not too clean hand. Ma's eyes were more red than usual and her strong shoulders rounded a little in the back. Out of exhaustion if nothing else she was going to let the topic pass, and would have if not for mention of half a dollar. A half-dollar was a day's pay for a lot of folks in these lean times and she wasn't sure if she liked the idea of the boys having that much money to waste on who knew what. She knew they'd been saving but she didn't know for what, and she had no idea how much they'd managed to put aside. She only knew that on times when they'd gone to town and maybe one of their Memaws gave them each a dime or maybe a quarter that neither of them ever returned with requisite merchandise to match their funds. They were good boys and she didn't fret much, but knew that Terrence could often be more than either she or certainly Clem could handle.

"Ya'll found half a dollar in the graveyard? Where was it, sitting on a marker…"

"No! No, I found it when we went inna the cave. I 's digging with my foot 'n I found it in the ground."

Pa spoke some slurred words and made some gurgling sounds. Mawiped her mouth, stood and went past the hanging wall of quilts to see what he needed.

Clem leaned forward. "Don't talk so much, Terrence. Last thing we need is Ma tellin' the Platts we was messin' 'round in their boneyard, or takin' the half-dollar."

"Boneyard," Terrence repeated between joyous mouthfuls.

"I'm bein' serious. Ya want Ma to take it from ya?"

"No!" Terrence's hand instinctively went to the front pocket on his britches despite the fact that they'd put the old coin neatly in their cigar box under the heavy rock so it wouldn't fall out and possibly be lost again. The last thing Clem needed was for his brother and him to be retracing all of Terrence's steps with lanterns in dark futility when the half-dollar inevitably fell out somewhere during the day.

"Well then just let me do the talkin'. Let me answer her questions about what you 'n me done."

"Ain't gonna lie to Ma is ya?"

"No, I ain't gonna lie to Mabut it don't mean we gotta tell her all 'bout everything." Clem went back to his supper when Ma came back in with Pa's plate to add more pork meat from the stew. She was mumbling below her breath and her face looked like it might just slide off beneath her eyes. The boys didn't think much about it because except for in the dead of winter near everyone was tired and sore who worked on a farm. She took the plate into the makeshift bedroom then came back and had at her own food with vigor.

After a few minutes of farm-related dialogue, Ma put two fingers to her temple and closed her eyes, then said: "What am I forgettin'. Oh yeah, now what was this down at the Platts?"

Clem flashed a look at Terrence that he hoped his Ma didn't see then quickly said what he'd been rehearsing in his mind: "Wadn't nothing, Ma. We just went in this little cave that's hidden back in them hills behind the graveyard and Terrence found half a dollar in the dirt. But it's old so maybe it ain't even worth nothin'."

"Lemme see it. Come on, give it here." Ma held her hand out first to Clem then quickly to Terrence who again instinctively reached for the front pocket of his britches then seeming to remember Clem's words fumbled badly trying to pretend he didn't hear. "C'mon, Terrence. I'm ain't gonna ask a'gin."

Panicked, Terrence looked to Clem then spat: "Don't got it, Ma," which was indeed (and thankfully) the truth.

"We got it in our savings, Ma," Clem continued.

"Savings," Terrence breathlessly concurred.

"Yer savin's, huh?" Thankfully, Ma had never asked much about their savings, assuming it probably hovered around a dollar or maybe two depending on how much hard candy the two boys snuck in. "Well, don't be messin' 'round in their graveyard is all. Sure as heck don't need no more headaches 'round here."

"We won't, Ma."

"We won't, Ma."Terrence parroted.

Clem asked: "Was it wrong that we didn't tell the Pratts we found it? Near their place?"

Ma stopped with dinner and thought for a second. "No, but you're right to ask me. Ask y'self what would you'd think if someone was snooping 'round here 'n found your money. Wouldn't want 'em to keep what's yers."

"No, Ma."

"No!" Terrence added.

"But," she went on, "I doubt much they knew it was there, where ya'll found it, 'specially since ya'll said it was old. Someone pro'lly just dropped it, years back."

They ate for a moment. "Your Uncle Ned'll be 'round tomorrow, take the peaches to town, so you boys caint go to school 'til Thursday."

"We goin' to Fort Smith then?" Clem asked, happy to have the subject changed even if it was back to talk of more chores.

"I 'magine. Why's that?- don't ya like Fort Smith?"

"No, I like it all right. Just wonderin' is all."

Later, after Clem cleaned the table and washed the dishes by himself (sometimes Terrence helped but mostly he made a bigger mess and didn't clean them proper) the boys sat up in the hay window in the barn and watched as the last of the day's sunshine tried in vain to hold on to the horizon.

"Reckon we could see to St. Louis all the way from here?" Terrence asked as he did almost every night when they sat up here, pronouncing it: 'Saintlooz'.

"On a clear night pro'lly," Clem answered how he almost always did. "Got streetlamps in St. Louis so that all the motorcars kin tell where they 's going when they drive around at night."

"Pa'd said there could be a glow?"

"Yup."

They would sit for hours and look out over their fields to the Winslow's farmhouse and then to other farms beyond. Just past the river was really all that they could see that was familiar. Lots of moonless, clear nights they swore they could see a dim halo hovering way off in the blackness, but it was probably just wishful thinking, in the direction where the sun was when it came up which was where they knew St. Louis generally to be.

"T'morrow right after morning chores, before breakfast though, we oughta get your half-dollar 'n take it with us with Uncle Ned to go to Fort Smith. The bank what Stanley was talking 'bout it's over in Barling. If m' memory serves right we go right through there on the way, on the way to Fort Smith." Clem had already begun to work out a way to get to go to the bank without rousing suspicions or inquiries from their Uncle Ned. Uncle Ned usually smelled of liquor and often slurred his words even during the daytime. Once, on the way back from town, he'd driven the truck that he'd borrowed from the Brewsters to move the crops right off the road, on a sunny day with no other motorcars or trucks around! Clem meant to tell Ma about it even though they were on their way back and the truck had been empty so nothing was lost and no one had gotten hurt, so at the time he'd thought: why did she need to know? It wasn't a lie not to tell every little thing that happened, especially if it was nothing bad that happened. Once before, on a trip with their now deceased Memaw she had given the boys twenty-five cents apiece and Uncle Ned had asked Clem if he could borrow a dime for a bottle of beer but what he really meant was to have the dime because Clem never did see that dime again, and he sure didn't want Uncle Ned seeing a whole half-dollar and getting any similar notions.

"'Less go 'n git it now!"

Clem shook his head. "Uh, uh. Too dark. We'd need to take a lamp along. Then maybe someone would see. Ya know how easy it is to tell someone's comin' in their motorcar or their truck from far off on account 'a their lamps."

Terrence didn't really recall this but he grudgingly agreed anyway then woke up half the night worrying about the matter.

Three

Loading peaches was hard and heavy, messy work. No matter how you tried not to let any bruise or tear, some always did, and then those were only good for canning which meant they brought twenty cents on the dollar. Clem realized that the older he and Terrence got, and the more they grew, Uncle Ned seemed to move more slowly, and spent an awful lot of time tinkering with the truck and such right at the times when the loading was being done. Terrence never complained about any of the chores, and despite being shorter than Clem by half a head he was every bit as strong, maybe even a little stronger, although Clem would never admit to this. They would alternate with one boy in the truck bed taking baskets from the other on the ground, much harder on whoever was on the ground because they had to lift the basket that weighed as much as forty pounds up above their heads. When Terrence was in the truck bed Clem had to keep one eye on him, watching for him to become distracted or tire. When the baskets started being dropped rather than set down, then they would switch places. If Terrence ever tired from lifting heavy baskets above his head he never said so. They tried to load it all before sun-up to keep all of the flies at a minimum. With peach juice often coating their arms up to their necks, flies could be a real bother. Today they worked even more quickly than usual and Clem hoped that neither Ma nor Uncle Ned took notice as they might then expect it to be a new standard. Clem and Terrence had to retrieve the coin, confirming that it was still worth half a dollar would be a relief, before Uncle Ned decided he was ready to travel, usually at first light. Clem's plan was to tell Uncle Ned that Ma needed some molasses, and that he and Terrence would go to the mercantile which was right next to the bank. It being late in July meant it would be plenty warm early in the day.

It was downright hot and the flies were hard at work by the time they drove into Barling. Clem was banking on Uncle Ned wanting a cold soda pop to drink, or, more likely, a cold beer (or three).

"We won't be a minute," Clem said as he hopped out of the bed of the idling truck, Terrence right behind.

"Boy's want a soda pop?" He pronounced it 'sodee parp'. "I reckon' I'll get me one. Be my treat."

Clem smiled inwardly. "Okay, sure. Thanks Uncle Ned."

"Thank ya Uncle Ned." Terrence chimed in.

The boys moved quickly across the street, watching for motor cars or trucks which often ran recklessly between the horses, mules, people, dogs, wagons and carts. 'Sherman M. Smith: Mercantile Goods' was fairly busy and quite a bit larger than 'Main St. Mercantile and Tannery' in Twin Forks, their usual haunt. Clem grabbed onto Terrence's shoulder.

"Caint be lookin' at everything on the shelves and caint buy nothin' extra, ya hear? We don't got that much time and we ain't spendin' none 'a our savings."

"But…hey Clem!" Terrence mumbled, positively mesmerized, eyes glued to the corner of the store that was stocked with licorice, hard candy, marbles of various sizes, toys, dolls and even trains. Clem found it plenty hard himself not to indulge, especially on the much larger selection of marbles than were available in Twin Forks, but he drew his breath and stayed on bought the first fat bottle of molasses they saw with the twenty cents Ma had given them, took the three cents change, and then stole back to the storefront for a quick glance outside to the street to be sure their uncle wasn't idling there before darting out the door and nearly banging rudely into a women who was coming into the mercantile. The tipped their caps and apologized then moved quickly over to the bank next door.

Tiny bells chimed as they entered the 'Barling Bank' maybe a bit too quickly, both short of breath, drawing a stern look from a woman behind the counter.

"Somethin' I can help you with?"

Clem took off his cap and Terrence quickly did the same. Clem said: "Uh, yes Ma'am, we 's tryin' to find Duggan- uh, Mister Duggan. Grandpa Duggan. Ma'am. Please."

"I see. And whom should I tell him is calling?"

"Call 'im?" Clem began to fidget. "Uh, no Ma'am, we don't got no telephone. We was hopin' just to ask him a question. -'Bout something."

Sensing that they were not up to any mischief, the woman softened. "Well, what're your names?"

Both boys answered at once then looked sheepishly at one another. "I'm Clem, 'n this here's m' brother, Terrence." Clem repeated slowly.

She looked them over more closely. "Hello Clem and Terrence. Now, do you know Mr. Duggan personally?"

"Uh, no Ma'am, we…my…well, our friend Stanley, Stanley Winslow, he'd said that Matt's grandpa worked at the bank here. In Barling."

"Matt…Duggan?"

"Uh, yes Ma'am, Matt Duggan. He's from Twin Forks. Back from where we's from."

"Well, our Mr. Duggan is quite busy at the moment." Clem began to fidget again not liking the sound of this as he was only affording them a couple of minutes before his Uncle Ned might come looking for them, asking questions. "Maybe I could answer your question for you?"

Clem motioned to Terrence that it was okay and he fished the coin from his britches and reluctantly handed it to his brother who held it with both hands and turned. "We found, well, my brother, Terrence, he found this in the ground. Says right here: 'half a do.', that means dollar…"

"I see," the woman smiled.

"…and, so, we was wondering, since it's old, is it still worth somethin'?" He hoped it was still worth half a dollar or near to it.

The woman took the coin and gave it a quick glance before handing it right back to Clem who after a pause glumly handed it back to Terrence. "Yes, it's still worth half a dollar. The value is determined because it's made from silver. It will be worth fifty-cents today, tomorrow, or a hundred years from now, just the same."

Now that it was confirmed, the boys were ecstatic but held their glee in check, although truthfully Terrence wasn't really paying much attention. As long as he had the coin in his pocket; that was all that mattered.

Just then, a door opened at the back and two men dressed very fancily in long jackets and black top hats emerged and strode out from the bank. Another well dressed man moved behind the counter, wearing a suit and tie though no top hat on his white, balding pate.

"Oh, Mr. Duggan. I believe these two boys are friendly with your grandson?"

"What's this now?"The older man said, walking over.

The woman turned. "Was his name Pat? Pat Duggan?"

"Uh, no Ma'am, his name's Matt."

"Oh Matthew, yes, I have a grandson by that name who lives in Twin Forks. That where you boys are from?"

They both said: yessir.

"Well, what brings you to Barling and our fine bank?" He rested his hands on the counter, then thought quickly, stood back and motioned for them to follow him over to the door behind an iron gate that kept customers away from the vault. "Would you boys like to see the vault?"

"Oh boy! Oh boy!" Terrence had wanted this since the first time he had been in a bank and Pa explained to him what the vault was used for and that therefore no one was allowed in, and now he hopped up and down excitedly. Secretly, Clem was thrilled too but since he was older he just nodded his head as if he'd been in plenty of vaults before and followed, gripping his cap tightly to his chest. Mr. Duggan led them into the vault and explained how it opened, proclaiming that it was strong enough to stop any bullet, and nearly any sized bomb.

"I suppose if you built a big enough bomb, it would blow up the vault and probably take the whole city block with it," Mr. Duggan said in answer to Terrence's excited query about: even a really, really big bomb?

"Now, what was it you boys had come all this way to ask me?"

Clem was already satisfied with the woman's answer; that their find was real and still worth half a dollar, and he was becoming desperate about their being gone so long but he didn't want to be rude to such an important man. He was about to explain it all when Terrence whipped the half-dollar from his pocket and held it forth. "It's a half a dollar. Found it unner the ground. We dinna know was it still worth nothin' since it had been buried in the ground."

"I see." Mr. Duggan seemed extraordinarily patient with Terrence who was known, quite frequently, to rub adults the wrong way (lots of kids, too).

"Kin we put it in your vault? (Terrence pronounced it: 'bault'). Fer… so..so… no one'll steal it from us?"

"Well, you could open a passbook account with us and deposit it. We keep all of our customer's deposits safely in the vault. Now, you said it had been buried for a long time. I'm not sure what you mean by that. May I see it?"

Terrence looked to Clem who nodded his okay. Terrence handed the man the coin. "Let's see what you have here. Oh, an 'oh-two', very nice. Very nice. You boys say you found this coin?"

"Uh, yeah, he…"

"I did!" Terrence shot out. "Dug it all up with m' foot. With m' toe!"

"I see. Were there…more of these? I'm sure you gave a good look, no?"

"We dug more," Terrence explained, looking toward the ground and mimicking digging with his foot. "And…and then brought over 'n ant shovel 'n a lamp to see inta the hole."

Clem began to sweat, not wanting anyone else to hear mention of the name 'Pratt' and prayed Terrence was through blabbering. Clem quickly said: "It's called 'spade', Terrence. We dug 'round with a spade but that was the only one there."

"I see." The man looked at the coin closely again. "Would you boys wait here for me for a moment please? I don't want to speak ahead of myself. I will be right back." Mr. Duggan got his hat than strode from the office with their coin, leaving the boys somewhat speechless. Was he taking it from them? Wasn't that stealing? Maybe he was going to deposit it into his big vault although Clem didn't remember formally agreeing to this. Clem's instinct was to just run back outside and find Uncle Ned if Mr. Duggan hadn't taken their half a dollar with him, wherever he'd gone. They'd get hollered at now or worse from their uncle for being late, wandering off. But fifty cents was just too much to lose. The foreboding made Clem sweaty on his neck and then in his palms.

Terrence seemed to pick up on it. "Hey Clem! He tookit! Tookit with 'im! Is he gonna put it in the big vault?"

"I don't know, Terrence. I seen him, too! Been sittin' right here the whole time, Terrence."

"Is we in trouble? Is he gonna go 'n tell where we found it at?"

"I don't know, Terrence. Sure hope not." Clem began to worry even more. They were trapped in the bank, trapped in Matt Duggan's grandpa's office, and now without their half-dollar.

Five minutes later, the balding, white-haired man shuffled back in and hung his hat on a hook on the door. "I'm sorry about all of this secrecy, boys, but I didn't want to go garnering false hopes on your part." Neither boy had an idea what any of that meant. Clem was more focused on Mr. Duggan's face, on his manner, to try to tell if they were in any trouble and if they were, how bad. The man looked serious, a lot more serious than he had earlier when showing them around the vault. Serious, yes…but angry? It didn't seem so. "I took your find over to a friend of mine who runs an antiquities shoppe. My hunch was that due to its age there might be some collector interest."

Interest. Clem wasn't sure but he thought that meant paying somebody extra money, like being assessed a fine. Could Mr. Duggan have seen one of the Pratts here in Barling? Did they just speak about it?

"In any event, what you boys found is worth rather a lot of money."

"It's a half a dollar!" Terrence blurted, dismayed.

"You're right, son. But you see, this particular half-dollar that you found was minted by the United States government more than one hundred years ago. They didn't make very many to begin with, not like today, and most of them probably got melted down or shaved for their silver at some point in time. That makes this one rare. And rare means that there are not very many of them in existence, or sometimes things that are one-of-a-kind." Mr. Duggan asked Clem: "How old are you, son?"

"Uh, thirteen. Almost thirteen, sir."

"And you boys are here on your own from Twin Forks? Did you come by automobile?"

"Uh-uh. Not really…" Clem was about to explain about riding with Uncle Ned aboard a borrowed truck from a farmer from Smithville when Mr. Duggan kept on.

"Well, I guess you certainly seem responsible. It's just with so much money at stake..."

"That half a dollar ain't all 'a that much. We got more'n…we got more'n eighteen dollars savin' back at home. Our savins'," Terrence repeated.

Clem just didn't see all of the fuss over the boys having half a dollar at their ages. Boldly, he said: "We take money places sometimes for our Maand our Pa, for the farm, sir." Fearing a loss, Clem was nervous now and finding it difficult to sit still.

"Okay. Fine. Well, I can tell you that your coin is worth thirty-five dollars. You've been offered thirty-five dollars for it. What do you say about that?"

Both boys were thoroughly confused, Terrence of course more so. Thirty-five dollars? What was this? When had there been any mention of such an amount for anything? Clem wasn't sure what it cost to buy an automobile but it couldn't be much more than that. Terrence should not have been spouting off about their savings either. But the man was a banker which meant that he could be trusted with complete secrecy for such important matters.

"Uh, I don't know, sir. We don't have that kind of money for nothin'. Like m' brother said, we got more than eighteen in our savin'."

"What? No, no, I'm not sure that you understand." Mr. Duggan smiled. "Okay. Let me ask you this," he reached into his pocket and produced a shiny new silver dollar. "What would you say if I offered to trade this silver dollar for your half-dollar? You would make the exchange, would you not?"

"Yeah," they said in unison.

"Why?"

"Cause yours is bigger. Yours is more. Yours is a dollar," Terrence said confidently, unaccustomed (and happy) to grasp math in such practical terms.

"Okay, so generally bigger is better. There's twice as much silver in this dollar coin as in your half-dollar. Do you follow me so far?" They nodded. "Now, what if I offered to trade your same half-dollar for this," he reached into his pocket and removed several folded bills, selecting a ten-dollar note. "What say you then?" Terrence didn't know about this. Clem was fairly sure of what to say but was confused over what he was starting to fear was going to result in their losing the half-dollar, and with the mention of this 'interest' who knew what else. And there was still their being late to return to their uncle Ned to contend with. Mr. Duggan continued. "It's just a piece of paper with ink and design. There's no actual silver in it, am I right?" He didn't wait for any r4esponse. "It has value because the government places ten dollars worth of silver into their vaults when they print it so we all agree that this piece of paper is the same as ten of these silver dollars," he held up the thick coin. "Just easier to carry in our pockets than ten coins would be." He weighed the coin in the air in his palm. "Heavy, right? Okay? Now, let's just say that when men fancy things that are not easily available they will offer to pay more than what the object is actually worth, in an effort to obtain it over another man who wants to obtain just as badly. A glass of water is free, am I right?" They nodded. "But, if you were in the desert, and you were out of water, and very thirsty you would certainly pay a nickel for a glass, would you not? A dime even? Your half-dollar? Or your entire eighteen dollars in savings if you were on the verge of dying of thirst?" Terrence could not comprehend why anyone would pay for water you could get out of any river or creek, and truth be told he was more than ready to just get back into the truck bed with the peaches and forget about all of it. He dangled his feet back and forth below the chair. Clem likely would have grasped what Mr. Duggan was saying if he wasn't still so afraid of losing their half-dollar. "Because your coin is so old, and there are so few of them, the men who like to collect, who like to own this sort of thing…the value of this particular half-dollar to such a collector is thirty-five dollars. Then, if another collector decided that he wanted to own it for himself he might pay that man thirty-six dollars whereby the first man would get an extra dollar, which is called 'profit'. This is why people collect items of value; for some to enjoy, aesthetically, or with the hope that the value will increase and they will then be able to sell them at a profit. Now, since you boys found this treasure…" Mention of the word 'treasure' and surely the soon to be ensuing questions on behalf of the Pratts got both boys too flustered to pay attention any longer. Both stood, somewhat rudely, readying to flee.

"Uh, our uncle, Uncle Ned, he's waitin', waitin' on us, in the street. On the truck. With them peaches. He's gonna be sore." Clem motioned toward the street. Ignorant of social protocol, Terrence leaned over the desk to retrieve the half-dollar from Mr. Duggan who was reluctant to the point of actually wresting the coin back from Terrence before the boy could retrieve what was rightfully his.

"Wait for just a moment. Please. Okay. Let us make this simple. I am prepared to give you boys thirty-five dollars in exchange for your coin. I'll give it to you in silver coin if you'd prefer."

"Thirty-five of them?" Terrence couldn't comprehend this. "Them big ones?" Terrence asked.

"If you would like. Might be cumbersome…might be…heavy. Bulky. Hard to carry. Too big for your pockets. Which is why I could give it to you in paper notes."

"It's the same," Clem whispered, their turn in fortunes for whatever the crazy reason suddenly dawning as a literally breathtaking, dizzying possibility. Mr. Duggan stood and strode out to the counter without waiting for an answer.

"Clem, what's happenin'? What's happenin' to my half-a-dollar?"

"Hush up," Clem responded, maybe a bit too harshly, and then gave Terrence a reassuring squeeze on his thin shoulder. "We're gonna get it back and then some I think. I'll explain it all later, when we're by ourselves." Telling him they would discuss it when they were alone always placated Terrence because no one understood him like Clem did; and Clem always explained things several times over without even hollering, if need be. "I'll get ya two of 'em. I promise," he whispered just to be sure.

Mr. Duggan came sauntering back into the office holding several bills. He began to count. "Okay, here is five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five dollars. Now, are you boys sure you're used to handing this much money? You said something about having an uncle nearby?"

"Uh, yes sir, no sir," dizzy, Clem licked at his painfully dry lips, the office and its high ceiling suddenly feeling like they were collapsing, shaking, feeling more constrictive than the Pratt's dark cave where the coin was found. "We'll be just fine, Mister Duggan, sir, thanks." Clem reached out and somewhat clumsily took possession of the stack of seven five-dollar bills. "We gotta go find our uncle."

"But…where's my half-a-dollar! Hey Clem!" Terrence waved his hand as Clem dragged him quickly from Mr. Duggan's office and then from the bank.

"We gotta go find Uncle Ned. Quick like, c'mon. And don't say nothin' to him about going to the bank, Terrence, don't say nothin' about being in the bank. Nothing! I'm being real serious here, okay?"

"Okay, okay, won't talk 'bout the bank but why we gotta give 'im the half a dollar? I found it in the dirt!"

"I tell ya all later. I promise. I'll get ya two of 'em to keep, later. How 'bout that?"

Terrence paused. "Promise? Two of 'em?"

"Promise. Now, here's Uncle Ned. Let me do all the talking."

Uncle Ned had two cold bottles of beer in one hand and cold two bottles of soda pop in the other, tiny droplets of water reflecting prismatic, dancing colors from the piercing sun. He handed one each to the boys. It seemed that Uncle Ned may have already polished off another beer or two while Clem and Terrence were supposedly in a line waiting to pay at the grocer's, but this worked out okay because he didn't seem to notice their absence and Uncle Ned didn't say anything at all he just waited for Clem to set the molasses onto the front seat beside him then climb into the truck bed with Terrence and the peaches. With an oily belch and the small pop of a backfire the peach-filled truck rolled out of Barling, piloted a tad unsteadily by occasional farm-hand (and pretty regular drinker) Ned Skinner.

In the truck bed, Clem was still in a state of shock. Ten times in the first five minutes he found himself reaching into his pocket to feel, to confirm that while they were out the half-dollar he indeed had thirty-five paper dollars in hand, and he kept looking back behind them as the town of Barling drew away to finally just a small dot, expecting Mr. Duggan or maybe the police to be hot in pursuit, whatever mistake had just occurred surely to have been corrected by now.

Thirty-five dollars.

Nearly twice what they had amassed already, saved over years of working and scrimping and denying themselves of momentary, visceral pleasures in lieu of their long-term plan.

"M' gosh," Clem exclaimed suddenly, drawing Terrence's attention away from looking at the homes and farms and goings-on that flipped by as they reached the outskirts of town.

"Wha's'matter?"

Clem knew he should keep quiet until they were back home, in the safety of the hay loft or out in the peach groves, but his recent conclusion simply could not be kept silent.

"Terrence, we done it! We done it! I just added up."

"What'd we done?"

The hard-running truck and the blowing air made enough noise that Clem was confident that their Uncle Ned could not hear. He kept his voice low to be sure. "See, that coin you found, the half-dollar, because it was so old, remember? More'n a hunnert years. Said: '1802', r'member? Well, on account 'a being so old it was worth a lot more than half of a dollar to Mr. Duggan because he wanted it and it was so old. So Mr. Duggan traded us thirty-five dollars for it. Them seven, five-dollar bills? That's what we was doing back at the bank. All 'a that money ya seen him countin' out, it ain't for Pa and Ma, it's ours, for us. For our savin'. You unnerstand how much seven, five-dollar paper money bills is?"

"Yeah, Clem, I seen it. I know to count seven."

"Okay, well let's see your adding then. How much is it: eighteen dollars and three cents and thirty-five dollars then?"

"Uh…" Terrence really wanted to get the answer right but eighteen was a strange number to be trying to add up without actually seeing peaches to count maybe or even numbers on a slate but truthfully even that would have been challenging, and thirty-five was more than he had in fingers and toes.

Clem stole a glance at the back of Uncle Ned's head as he seemed to be singing something to himself and happily drinking his beer. "I'll tell ya. Then later, and ya gotta keep quiet. I mean it! Caint say nothing to nobody! Not to Uncle Ned, not to Ma yet neither, none of them boys in town, nobody! When we get back home later we'll go get our savings an' I'll show you it all then. Okay?"

"Okay." Terrence said cheerfully, really not very interested anymore. He turned back around and leaned on a side rail, his arms dangling in the breeze. Then he turned back suddenly. "Hey Clem! What about them two half- a-dollars? Like ya said you was gonna get me at the bank?"

Clem sighed. "I will, Terrence. I told ya; when we get back. Don't worry none. I promise."

"Promise," Terrence parroted. Satisfied, he turned back around.

Clem looked off into the distance but fretted over their newfound bounty. Something had to be wrong. But if it wasn't, it had not only vaulted them to their goal of fifty dollars more quickly than he could have ever imagined but also changed the amount of their find at the Pratts an amount a touch greater than the self-imposed two-dollar threshold he'd set for continued secrecy.

Twice, while they were unloading the peaches Terrence almost could not contain himself. Had he divulged their secret to Uncle Ned, Clem really wouldn't have blamed him or been all that sore; Clem was still dizzy himself, weighed heavily by the notes in his britches pocket now stuck together in a sort of pressed lump from all of his perspiring. He was worried that they might fall apart from the dampness, maybe be ruined. And he just couldn't see how they'd keep it a secret forever, at least from Ma.

Truthfully, he knew by the time they returned to Oak Street at the edge of Twin Forks that even if it meant surrendering all or most of their bounty telling Ma might be better than the burden he was now carrying.

"Hey Clem. We go ta the schoolhouse t'morrow? And then…then after the school kin ya give me them two half-a-dollars?"

"T'day's Saturday. So t'morrow's Sunday, and we ain't got school. We got church on Sundays. Right?"

"Church." Terrence thought about this. "Kin we get 'em after we go to the church then? You promise! 'An 'member ya said ya'd tell to me all secrets too! Up in the barn."

"After supper. Now, wash up. We pro'lly ought go an' swim. Get real smelly unloadin' them peaches."

Clem looked down at Terrence. Terrence's eyes were almost a powder blue, and with all of his freckles and near constant, silly grin, Clem could see why other boys often called him a 'circus clown'. Clem playfully mussed the boy's already mussed up hair. "C'mon. I'll tell Mathat we're goin' then I'll race you. Go'n get the soap, 'n git a couple 'a towels to dry off with." Terrence had grown to the point where a race was really a race and although Clem was dog-tired the excitement of the day kept his adrenaline up.

"Okay, Clem. A towel 'n a soap." Terrence nodded.

Terrence went off toward the barn and the clothesline and Clem went to the kitchen to look for Ma.

Ma was in the makeshift bedroom with Pa. She came out and seemed to be agitated about something. Or maybe it was just another day.

"Go'n wash up. You know ya caint sit at my table smellin' like that."

"Me 'n Terrence are gonna go for a swim. We'll wash up down at the river."

"Well, don't you dawdle. Ya'll should be plenty hungry I'd imagine."

"We are. I am, Ma."

"Well, git to it then. I could use some help with supper."

"Yes, Ma," Clem said but then didn't walk off, his cap in one hand held tight. He stood kind of stupidly, squeezing the wad of bills through his britches with his other hand, self-consciously checking that they were still there and he wasn't coming out of some long, strange dream.

Ma left the room for a moment, muttering something, and then furrowed her brow when she returned. "You got somethin' to say, son? Spit it out. Does the cat got your tongue?"

Clem fidgeted, working his cap with both hands now. "Uh, see, when me and Terrence was over 'round the Pratts…"

"The Pratts?" Maspat venomously. "Hadn't we already been over that, Clem? Ya'll didn't got back over there after I told ya'll not to?"

"No, Ma. I swear!"

"You and your darn brother. Sometimes, I swear sometimes I think ya'll'r gonna put me in 'a early grave. Now, go on. Go. Shoo. Be back in fifteen minutes 'n help out with supper. Terrence too."

Clem fidgeted for another moment but couldn't form words. He nodded and ran gratefully from the kitchen carelessly letting the screen door shut too hard then sped down the path to the back of the barn and right past Terrence who was squatting down and examining something on the ground between his feet.

"Hey. Hey! Hey Clem! That ain't fair! No heas…no heasstarts!" Terrence leaped to his feet in chase then promptly tripped and fell. Standing, he went to start again and then realized he'd forgotten the soap and towel. He turned and stomped his foot down in frustration. Then he walked back, bent and retrieved the items, turned and started walking real slowly down the river path. Clem suddenly appeared, slightly out of breath.

"Will ya c'mon? Thought we was racin'?"

"Ain't fair!" Terrence started to cry, quickly working himself to sob. "No heasstarts."

"Sorry, Terrence. I'm sorry. We'll race later. C'mon. But listen, we gotta go wash up fast so we kin go ta the savings b'fore supper, 'n Ma wants us both to help her out. Here. Give it here. C'mon." Clem took the towel and the soap and steered his brother ahead of him. Wiping his face on his filthy shirtsleeve, Terrence walked too fast and stumbled but righted himself before he fell.

"T'morrow after the church. Them two half-a-dollars..."

"I promised, didn't I?" Clem stopped and spun the smaller boy around holding Terrence's shoulder with his free hand. He looked at him sternly. "Don't I always keep promises?"

"Yeah, Clem."

"Then why ya gotta ask me the same thing over and over when I already said that I promise?"

"I dunno, Clem," Terrence wiped his nose on his sleeve again, still running a little because of his crying.

They got to the edge of the river. The Little Red was low and still a kind of brown due to the summer months where hot winds blew so much dirt around. Clem looked around carefully, twice, while Terrence stripped off his sweat-soiled britches and filthy shirt. Leaving them where they dropped, he jumped right in. Clem pulled his shirt up over his head, washed both shirts perfunctorily then walked over to a bush where he took the shirt and then his carefully folded britches and hid them cautiously beneath it, noting the bush as his clothes could not be seen.

"Uh, oh. Hey Clem! Think…I done loss the soap. Caint find the soap!" Terrence bent over in about a foot deep of the slowly moving water, feeling around blindly in the silty flow.

"Don't fret none. Just use the sand for now. Ya know how. Scrub good then let's git," Clem cast a last nervous glance toward the bush that secreted his britches and shirt then bent himself and began scrubbing with handfuls of the fine sand that lined the river's edge. Terrence kept hopelessly feeling for the lost piece of soap which was probably a hundred yards downstream already. This time of the season the river was thin enough at their swimming spot that on a good day Clem could almost throw a rock all the way across it. Trees were sparse but bushes plentiful, thick enough that you couldn't see around the bend from their side but you could see for a mile or more in the other direction where the river flowed past. It was part of a big, rolling loop of about three miles where if you set a raft or boat in upstream to float down you could ride the slow current for nearly an hour and then wind up at a game trail with only about a quarter of a mile over land to cross to get back to where you started. Sometimes when the boys were bored on rare days where no one had anything for them to do they would take their fishing poles and wade across the river then walk over to the bend where they could lash some wood together into a makeshift raft and float and fish until the current gently brought them back around the loop and home. There were a lot of boys in the area but like Clem and Terrence they were usually kept busy so when Clem first heard the sounds of boys fooling around he thought it was his paranoia getting the best of him. Terrence was still yammering on about losing the piece of soap while half-heartedly wiping clumps of dripping sand across his scrawny stomach and arms while he searched with the other hand.

"Ssh," Clem admonished. "Ya hear somethin'?"

"Hear what, Clem?"

"Thought maybe somebody was coming. Hurry up now, we gotta go 'n help Ma with supper." Clem suddenly had a powerful need to race to their savings spot and get the thirty-five dollars safely into the cigar tin and under the heavy rock as fast as possible. Inwardly, he cursed himself for not doing it first thing even at the expense of a scolding.

Unmistakable laughter from tomfoolery sent a chill up his back despite the hot summer weather. Familiar laughter, of his friend Stanley Winslow as he appeared suddenly at the bend, not fishing but just floating along with his older brother William and his cousin Jerome, of whom neither Clem nor especially Terrence cared for much as he was very big for his age and a known bully. He wasn't very smart and made up for it in brutishness.

"Hey, there's Stanley!" Terrence pointed, then realized their friend was not alone and lowered his hand slowly with a bit of concern. Terrence remembered he might have called Jerome a bad word the other day and hoped that Stanley hadn't spoken any of it. Both boys were still wearing their undershorts, and as Clem swiftly rinsed off and moved quickly to retrieve his hidden clothes he thought for a moment that the other boys might just continue on a little further and stay to the other side of the river where the crossing trail was but then Stanley waved and started paddling over towards them. His brother William, who was three years older, stayed to the right, clearly not interested in stopping to talk to the much younger Wilcox boys. Jerome was loudly recalling some boastful story that only got louder when he noticed Clem and Terrence, and then he seemed to fix a steely-eyed glare, especially at Terrence who was now also hurrying to get his clothes back on.

"Where ya'll goin'?" Stanley called out.

"Uh, we gotta help Ma," Clem answered.

"With the supper," Terrence blurted, and Clem wished he hadn't as Jerome was now within earshot and not likely to let something like that pass.

"What're ya'll, gurls? Ya ever help yer Mawith supper, Stanley? Dudn't your sister do it?"

"Don't got no sister," Terrence stated, a nervy tenor apparent in his voice.

Jerome glared. "Ya say somethin' retard? Got somethin' to say dummy?"

Terrence retrieved his clothes and was trying to pull them on clumsily while edging closer to Clem who was himself trying to dress and avoid the situation lurking before them. Despite being only thirteen, maybe fourteen, Clem wasn't sure, Stanley's cousin Jerome was already bigger than their Pa, and already had the wide shoulders and muscular arms of a grown man. And plenty of belly. His pug nose made boys think him pig-like but no one their age or size would ever say so out loud. Clem had heard much older boys taunt Jerome before with pig calls.

Jerome always had his mouth half open, waiting for someone to say something he disagreed with or had a strong opinion on which seemed like just about anything you might say, if you asked Clem. The weight of the sweat-pressed wad of bank notes in the front pocket of his britches felt impossibly heavy and now somehow seemed destined for disastrous exposure and even possible loss though an amount so great could be attributed rationally only to Pa and the farm as no boys their age would ever possess such a sum and Clem didn't figure Jerome would ever dare to bully from an adult. It was an impossible sum of money. If Jerome got wind he would surely take it from them at first. Clem could imagine the trouble and felt light-headed with the thoughts.

Jerome stared at Clem. He had a small, poorly constructed raft that barely kept him afloat but it was so hot out it was preferable to be mostly submerged anyway. He paddled over to them, climbed off his raft and then stood next to Stanley. "Stanley said ya'll found ya some coins. Think they might've been some coins I done lost."

Stanley was in a difficult position, being friends with Clem but having to spend a lot of time with his cousin because his Mamade him, a known bully who really wasn't much fun to be around. Stanley had been on the receiving end of the bullying plenty of times if Jerome was in the mood and no one else was around, and he had no interest in getting involved with whatever was transpiring so when Clem looked quick to him in a nervous way Stanley turned his head and suddenly found some loose binds on his raft which needed his immediate attention.

"Didn't find no coins." Clem croaked, trying in vain to keep his voice from wavering. "Terrence…Terrence found him a half-dollar, 'n old one. Don't know even if it's real."

"Lost me a half-dollar. In them coins I just said I lost. Mine was 'a old one too. Lemme see it. I'll tell ya if it's mine."

"Don't got it; he don't got it no more," Clem finished pulling on his britches and would swear he could feel Jerome staring at his bulging pocket. "They got it in the bank in Barling." He told the truth here.

"Callin' me lyin'?" Jerome held his raft from drifting away with a length of twine and took another step up the bank closer to Clem and Terrence. Even though he was standing in the water below them he still seemed taller, and definitely menacing.

Clem's mouth dried up. He'd been in fights before, a couple of scrapes, really more wrestling matches, and always fair. Even in a fair fight he was no match. Jerome would do what he wished and both boys knew it.

Clem unconsciously patted his palm against his pocket. "Ain't got it. Took it to Baring, took it to the bank. Saw Mr. Duggan, like Stanley said." Clem directed a nod at Stanley who acknowledged the comment but did not respond.

Jerome furrowed his brow. The story seemed plausible. "Well, ya got any other coins then?" He turned his attention to Terrence. "How's 'bout you retard?"

"Don't got no half-a-dollar," Terrence mumbled.

Clem could tell by the look on Jerome's face that the bigger boy didn't really like how this was unfolding but then didn't seem real interested in finding a place to tie off his small raft either, to maybe cause more trouble, to force Terrence to empty his pockets or the like. Jerome scowled then pointed a thick finger. "See ya at the schoolhouse. See ya after the school t'morrow. Better have it back by then. What I lost anyhow. More'n a half-dollar, too." He turned and knelt on the weathered boards that were bound as his raft, sinking to nearly his waist, and then paddled across the slow-moving current to where Stanley's brother had already made land. Sheepishly, Stanley flashed a little wave then climbed onto his raft and followed Jerome across the river to the trail.

Clem looked at Terrence. Neither one liked this development as Jerome didn't go to school so his behavior there wouldn't necessarily come under their teacher's thumb. Both boys hurried to finish dressing, and then hurried down the path back to their farm.

"Hey Clem! What 'bout goin' to the saving? Them two half-a-dollars? Ya promise."

"We'll have to go out later. Ma's gonna be sore if we don't git back 'n help out. 'Member, don't say nothin' 'bout goin' to the bank or the thirty-five dollars, nothin' of it! Or it'll all get taken 'n then we caint git ya the two half-dollars or go to see the big city doc like we always been plannin'. Promise now."

"Promise."

Four

"Hope you boys didn't cause yer uncle no grief."

Terrence was worked up from the day and the recent altercation, thinking probably he didn't want to go to school tomorrow, forgetting again that he wouldn't have to because of the day. "So…'n then Uncle Ned…Uncle Ned got us two 'a dem soderpop. Got m'own, Ma!"

"That's nice, Terrence. How long did it take ya'll to unload?"

"Only maybe two hours, Ma," Clem said.

"I'm getting' mus-cles, Ma. Uncle Ned said. Lookit," Terrence held his arm up, bent to show his arm muscles. Ma smiled thinly then turned back to Clem.

"Did yer uncle stop at any saloons? Have a bottle with him? Bottle fer sippin'? Like a whiskey bottle?"

Clem sure didn't want any questions asked about what they were doing in Barling. "No, Ma, I don't think. And I'd 'a seen him. He maybe drank a bottle of cold beer when we got…when he got us them soda pops, like Terrence said."

"Didn't have no whiskey in the truck?"

"No, 'n we coulda seen 'im."

"We could see 'im," Terrence chirped.

Miraculously, they made it through supper without either boy saying anything about the bank or the money. Ma seemed especially distant, lost in heavy thoughts, rising almost robotically to tend to Pa when he gurgled or grunted or occasionally spoke a few words that were coherent.

Just as they were finishing, Mrs. Winslow and one Stanley's memaws knocked on the back door. Clem was actually glad to see Mrs. Winslow carrying a bottle of homemade wine because he knew the adults would sit on the front porch awhile, this despite of the fact that normally it irritated him to see his Ma get even a little soused. He didn't understand why most adults seemed to like to drink alcohol. He knew from when he was younger that it had been illegal by the President but that some folks still did it. Tonight though he was glad because it gave Terrence and him the chance to disappear for a half hour or so after they cleaned up from supper.

Checking for the umpteenth time that no one was about, with Terrence low to the ground and lifting with all of his strength they moved the boulder aside, brushed the dirt off and lifted the cigar tin from its recess in the ground. Terrence had recently tired with the whole notion of their savings as gathering that much money to make a trip to a big city seemed about as possible as flying to the moon did, and he'd begun to pester Clem to buy more hard candy or soda pop regularly, then grumbled about wanting to maybe also buy special marbles or some other toy that could reduce their savings by a dollar or more if Clem wasn't cautious. Don't ya wanna get fixed by the city doc? -Clem would sometimes ask in exasperation, and while he considered the question Terrence would often shift side-to-side, testing his mis-sized leg, though Clem meant fixing his rung bell.

"Okay," Clem laid his kerchief on the ground and carefully removed first the bills, two dollar bills, then the various coins from the tin. He then took the pressed wad of five-dollar bills from his britches and began separating them carefully. "See Terrence, these here, these ones from the bank today, they's five-dollar bills. So for each one 'a them you kin git five 'a these…" he held a five-dollar bill between his fingers then a dollar bill up then held up a silver dollar. "Or, you kin git five 'a these. They's all worth the same, for buyin' things with. So whatever you wanted to buy, if it cost five-dollars you could trade 'em for one 'a these, or five 'a either 'a one 'a these. Unnerstand?"

"Yeah, I guesso. But what 'bout them two half-a-dollars?"

"Terrence, pay attention now. I'm gettin' sore. This 's real important, okay? Say what if somethin' was to happen to me like what had happened to Pa? Then you would be the only one who knows where our savings is hidden at. Now 'member how yesterday, heck, just this mornin' we had, we had what, eighteen dollars and then thirty-three cents more? 'Member?"

"Yeah, Clem. We counted up eighteen when we put in them coins what memaw gave us."

"Right. Good. Well, see now that half-dollar you found in the dirt, well, a normal one would be worth same as this," he held up a newer half-dollar then pointed to the other coins. "Same as two 'a them quarters. Or five 'a them dimes. Okay? But the one you found was real old, like more'n a hunnert years, so that means the banker Mr. Duggan, he traded us all of them seven for it 'cause he wanted bad to have it, 'n he's a rich man. Thirty five dollars. Ya see?"

"Yeah, Clem," but Clem knew he really didn't. Terrence saw a grasshopper and watched it take flight.

Clem carefully laid all of the money out in separate piles, and then he counted out loud to fifty-three dollars, thirty-three cents. Sobering, as he carefully placed the money back inside of the tin Clem almost told his brother that now they would make plans to visit a big city, St. Louis more than likely, but caught himself, knowing that he would have to plan the trip by himself and only tell Terrence that they were going at the last possible moment if it was ever to be kept between them.

Terrence chased the grasshopper through the wheat.

"G'night, Terrence."

"G'night, Clem.

"If I die in the night before I wakes up," Terrence was mumbling but Clem knew that Terrence was so tired that he couldn't stay awake for more than a few minutes after they lay down from their long and varied day. Terrence could never remember his prayers properly but seemed fascinating with the prospect of 'dying before he woke' and always seemed to remember that line muddled in with whatever else came into his mind. Normally he ended his mishmash of prayers by thanking god for Maand Pa, and then, particularly: my brother, Clem -but tonight he drifted off immediately. Clem was exhausted himself but he still had a few things to work out in his thoughts as soon as possible before he slipped up or Terrence told someone and their great fortune was jeopardized before they could go see about getting Terrence fixed. Clem still could not believe that they had fifty dollars savings! Clem figured he had to come up with a way to have Uncle Ned take them to St. Louis; at better than four hundred miles a trip that took upwards of five days. There were only a few times of the year where it was even possible to be gone for one week let alone two and this was mainly in the wintertime when travel could be bitterly cold and even slower going than usual in spots where there was ice or snow. And while Clem was allowed to operate the motorcar on short trips into town, on errands to the mercantile and such, he knew there was no way Ma would allow it gone that far for that long without Uncle Ned driving, and she'd be nervous of that because of his drinking. And then she'd be suspicious of how they were paying for all of the gasoline necessary for such a long trip. Clem had no idea how much gasoline would cost for such a journey. These were real problems.

Clem was fidgeting so badly his stomach hurt. It felt like the time he drank two bottles of some homemade sarsaparilla from the county fair and was so jittery that his lip quivered for half an hour, like Terrence's lip did sometimes, only real fast. It was a very still night with no wind to move the branches or rattle the leaves on the giant sycamore trees that kept a part of their farmhouse in perpetual shade. Nights like these sound carried so well that Clem and Terrence could sometimes hear the Winslows or the Drakes if they were out on their porches, maybe singing and playing some songs, drinking alcohol more than likely. When it was dead silent you could clearly hear the sound of the train, the FriscoLine that ran between San Francisco, California and St. Louis, Missouri, with stops for water, coal or passengers at forty-one depots along the way, including the next town over from Twin Forks: Stillman, Arkansas, where Clem could hear the faint sounds of the train's brakes and then the blast release of steam. He'd never been on a train before so neither had Terrence.

Snuggling under the bed sheet, Clem allowed himself a thin smile and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

Five

Three days later they got to the station nearly an hour before the train was scheduled to arrive, assuming it was on-time which it rarely was. Clem knew that Terrence hadn't slept more than a wink because every time Clem looked over to be sure that Terrence was sleeping he saw that he wasn't. Clem had been a little worried about being seen loitering at the depot but only a little as there were often kids playing, or sometimes hobos about, and generally people paid them little mind if they weren't causing a stir. Ma had been dumbfounded when Clem showed her just one of the five-dollar bills, simply not believing that the boys could have saved that much money without having stolen any of it but she never thought her boys' thieves, just that somehow, probably Terrence, had made a naïve error and taken some money from someone when they weren't looking. She asked Clem repeatedly about it but all he said was that they'd been saving every bit they could since when he was five and repeated about finding a whole half-dollar just last week. Clem had pled with her to let them just ride the train over to St. Francis and back, just a few hours, well, one day total with the wait for the return train once they got there. He chose St. Francis as a fictitious destination because it was the only place beside St. Louis that Clem knew with 'saint' as a part of the name thinking that if Ma heard Terrence babbling about 'Sainloos' as he called it she wouldn't think a thing. He wasn't even sure if the train went there when he brought it up but figured correctly that Ma then didn't know either. She had refused to let them go, saying she didn't want to discuss it and why would the boys spend more than three dollars, the cost of two tickets, all of that money, on something so frivolous and so short-lasting? Since when're ya'll so interested in trains? -was the last thing he remembered her saying on the matter before he decided that if he and Terrence were going to make their way to St. Louis they would have to do so without her blessing. After two days of planning out best he could it was time to go. So far the morning had gone smoothly, the one hitch being a couple of boys from town who tagged along when Clem and Terrence hopped down from the ride that ironically Jeb Pratt, one of the Pratt cousins, had given them in the back of his harvest truck when he found them happening along the road. With almost everyone recently to harvest, the town boys also had idle time on their hands. Terrence simply could not stop his wondering out loud (and loudly) about various concerns and questions he had regarding trains and how they operated. The three town boys themselves had never actually ridden on one either, one boy said he'd been allowed up into the conductor's seat while the train was stopped but they all doubted this was true, so the Wilcox boys' possible pending adventure was enough at least initially to warrant some tagalongs on the slight chance that it wasn't a wild, speculative dream or outright fabrication.

After about twenty minutes of waiting and seeing no tiny steam plumes in the distance, the three town boys figured on something better to do with their precious off-time and wandered away.

After deciding to take a train, when Clem's casual inquiries at the depot confirmed that, while expensive, passage costs were well within their means his spirits soon sank as he knew that Ma would find out about their deceitfulness, someone in town would surely tell when they came up missing. But after he thought about it for a while he realized that this would be a good thing for once they'd gone Ma wouldn't worry about ill fortune having found them as she would assume they were gone to safely on a train as they'd discussed and then she could set about working up a suitable punishment for their rarely displayed insubordination. The sky was blue and bright and painful to the eye; the dry, biting wind of the unusually cold September day cleverly finding every hole Clem had in his coat, in his britches and his wool cap. He held his coat tight to his heart and stood pressed against the sunny side of the depot while Terrence could not stop from darting repeatedly out to the tracks to lean over to check if he could see or hear the train coming. Clem warned him not to touch the cold tracks, and in the wintertime to never, ever, lick them (or any other metal if someone dared him to) as Clem knew from personal experience the unpleasantness of doing so. When he wasn't checking the tracks Terrence was trying to climb up onto anything he could to crane his neck, sometimes hold a hand over his brow as if he were a lookout on a top-mast of a ship, then call down that he thought he saw something, the steam! -only to realize it was just a mirage or stray cloud until finally his excitement moved Clem from his spot in the sun as there could be no doubt.

"It's…them trains 's here! Here's them! Them trains!"

They'd watched the trains before, many times, to see who got on and off, to look at strange faces through the windows, but never before were they about to become some of those faces in the windows themselves. It took only a few minutes to arrive from the farthest point they could see it but it felt like hours; the tiny plume and puffs, the cracking and creaking and shrill squeaking and rattling growing louder until even screaming themselves they could hear nothing else and finally the steel behemoth was upon them, threatening to devour them like a giant, iron whale if they got near to the tracks. They'd come to the depot sometimes as the other boys had done because trains never ceased to enhance limited entertainment options near Twin Forks but this time knowing they would purchase their own tickets and actually ride the train like every other passenger made it almost suffocating.

"Terrence! Terrence, go 'n git your bag!" Clem called out as Terrence was already firing questions in heated discussion with the conductor who had just helped a local, Mrs. Spatsky down the small ladder. Mrs. Spatsky glared at Terrence who paid her no mind, then glared at Clem who tipped his cap and shied away. Clem was sure Mrs. Spatsky would have Ma's ear at church on Sunday, if not sooner, something about Ma's 'hooligan' sons running amok.

"Can I help ya'll?" The conductor, he had his name: 'Munroe' –stitched across the breast pocket of his vest, a tall, slender man with a wispy mustache who had to lean over a bit to talk to Clem as Clem nervously approached, carrying both bags. Clem handed Terrence's sac to him and told him to hold it, and then turned to the man.

"Uh, we…m' brother Terrence 'n me, we're gonna ride to St. Louis. We got our money, see?" Clem held out the thick wad of now carefully folded bills.

"Goodness. Ain't gonna cost ya that much to ride to 'St. Looie'," Munroe took off his cap and scratched the side of his head, then his sharp eyes darted around, grateful that this was not a bigger, busier stop. "What're ya'll boys doing wit'all that money? Don't be showin' it around. Come on. Come with me," Munroe motioned the boys up the small run of stairs, Terrence tripping due to his excitement and skinning a knee through a new tear in his britches but he hardly noticed, despite the dampening, warm spot of blood. Clem took one last look behind them, at the small, weathered depot then the shops and church that edged the town; and then farther back to the west and the edge of Twin Forks where he knew his Mamight come looking for them and soon realize they were gone. But they'd get to St. Louis and find the doc who would fix up Terrence, and then Ma wouldn't be sore when she saw that Terrence was fixed up. Maybe, not even walking funny anymore, too. Munroe led them to two seats right next to his conductor's station and motioned for them to sit. Clem set his sac down and sat politely with his hands on his lap but Terrence merely dropped his sac to the floor and quickly stood on the seat to look through the window, fidgeting with it, trying to get it open so he could see better.

A huge blast of steam was released then Munroe yelled: All aboard- and picked up the small step ladder as the heavy train jerked and groaned and started to roll very slowly forward. Clem couldn't contain himself and since no one had hollered at Terrence for standing on the seat to look out the window, Clem took the empty seat one row behind and did the same thing though being taller he only had to kneel to see through the glass. In the distance Twin Forks was gone completely before their breathing slowed, then quickly on through Smithville which at two miles was as far north as they had ever been without a truck or motorcar and had no depot. The train had only a few passengers in their car. Clem knew there were several cars all connected but in the excitement he hadn't noticed how many were for passengers and how many were boxcars or haulers. And, of course the engine and the caboose. The passengers looked well-to-do, especially the three women who were dressed as fancy as Clem had ever seen at church and it was a Monday. The men all looked like bankers or businessmen except for two hard-looking men whose suits and caps were worn threadbare. They sat bearing fixed scowls in the car's rear.

Cold air rushed in as Terrence got the window down. Munroe came over and slid the glass closed. "You'll freeze the other passengers, son. Now ya'll're going all the way to 'St. Looie' you said, am I right?"

"Yes, sir," Clem reached into his britches again. Munroe looked down the car and decided he didn't like the look of the two gentlemen who sat in the rear and hadn't said two words to one another or to anyone else since they boarded nearly an hour ago.

"Well that'll be a dollar and eighty-five cents for each of you. So if you're gonna pay for your brother there, I'll need three dollars seventy cents, for two tickets to 'St. Looie'," he began punching out the appropriate spots on two thin strips of paper. When he saw Clem holding up the fat wad of money again preparing to count he motioned and held his hand down. "Why don't you boys come see my station?" He focused on Terrence. "Bet you'd like to see?" He said loudly.

"Yeah. Yeah," Terrence shook his head eagerly. "Kin I blow the whistle?"

It was very cramped in the small booth. Munroe showed them the emergency brake and the bell and telephone he used to get the engineer's attention, and he let them each hang far out the window and wave to the engineer who waved back through the reflection off of a mirror.

"You boys travel by yourself before?"

"Uh, yes sir," Clem said.

"On a train?"

"Nossir," Terrence blurted. Munroe smiled.

"I didn't think so. Now, ya have to be careful with all of that money. What are ya'll doing with all 'a that anyway? Not really my business, but…" Clem was used to answering adults honestly so he went ahead and started to tell Munroe why they were going all the way to St. Louis but Munroe cut him off before Clem shared too many details about the tractor accident. Terrence could not pull himself away from the window despite the biting cold as the wind rushed by, the train now rolling along at nearly fifty miles an hour. "Well, that's mighty noble, son. I sure hope the doc can help ya. How much have ya'll saved?"

They had left Terrence's two half-dollars behind in the tin so he wouldn't lose them but had the rest of their savings in Clem's pocket. "We got fifty-six dollars 'n seventy-two cents.

Munroe whistled. In another lifetime when he was young and drunk most of the time, and broke and riding the rails he might have relieved the boys of their money himself, through cards or maybe even strong-arm. But he was sober now and loved his steady job as conductor so the thought was fleeting. "Tell ya what. Why don't I give ya'll a fifty-dollar bill in exchange for fifty dollars of your one dollar bills and five dollar bills. That way you can hide it safe somewhere, in your shoe or somethin', and you won't have to worry about someone seeing all that money you have and thinking to take it from you. There's a couple of unsavory types riding the back of the train might take it from you and just laugh, who knows, toss you off the train for fifty dollars. That's near as much money as I make in a month," he mumbled under his breath. Clem had planned on turning in for a fifty-dollar bill himself when they got to St. Louis, figuring that banks there would have plenty of bills that large, and having just dealt with Stanley's cousin Jerome recently he didn't like the unsavory reference to the two men. Munroe took out a zippered pouch from inside of his vest and Clem saw a small, hidden pistol. Stealing and deceit were alien to Clem and Terrence but they knew enough from being on the wrong side of Stanley's cousin Jerome that there were bad people who would rob you of your money if they got the chance. Munroe took a brand new looking fifty-dollar note from the bag and waited while Clem carefully counted to fifty out loud, muffled enough by the whipping winds, Terrence now back in the small booth rubbing his cold ears and paying some attention as once again his brother was doing something with their 'saving.'

Munroe handed Clem the fifty-dollar note. "Good, now put that somewhere safe and never take it out where anyone can see. If someone asks do you have any money you tell 'em no, then if you have to you show 'em your coins. So you pay three dollars seventy for the two return tickets and you'll still have enough to buy any food and such. I'll leave you here for a moment to hide the bill then go back to your seats and enjoy your first ride on the 'Frisco'," which was the name of the train. Munroe left the booth and Clem folded the crisp, new bill four equal times and stuck it in his stocking foot, and then put his foot back into his shoe. He liked the idea that now he could feel the fifty dollars safely with his foot without having to check his pocket time and again.

A moment after Munroe went back to his duties Clem and Terrence went back to their seats. No one seemed to pay them any mind, but Clem cast an extra glance at the two men in the back before he settled in. After a minute of listening to Terrence exclaim: hey lookit that!-'n that there! –Clem took his sac and went to the row behind.

The speed was awesome. Clem doubted that Pa's motorcar went half this fast. Over the flat land they could see farther out, across vast farms, hues of different shades and colors clicking smoothly past. Clem reached into his sac and took out a folded paper map he'd purchased years ago to see how far St. Louis really was from Twin Forks. He unfolded a piece of a kerchief and took out a sliver of lead, then marked off the first town they'd passed through, Smithville. The next town was Oden and it had a sign but no depot. He figured to track their passage all the way out and back. Hope, Malvern, Benton, the small towns, most without depots, ticked by. Then Little Rock appeared and both boys jaws dropped in awe.

"Issit 'Sainloos' Clem? We there? We there?!"

From the outskirts Clem was going to comment but wasn't himself rightly sure. He'd forgotten to ask Munroe how long the trip took. He could see buildings six-stories tall; he'd never seen one taller than three and often the third floor was just a façade. But they'd only been gone for about two hours. Clem consulted his map. "Must be Little Rock, Terrence. It'd be Little Rock, I'd bet."

"Little Rock," Terrence agreed, his pressed nose and rapid breath repeatedly fogging the freezing glass and causing him to wipe it clear with his forearm.

Clem had Terrence come sit beside him and showed him on the map as the train began to slowly decelerate, screeches and jerking, making it hard to stand or kneel on the seat when the train took the turns. The boys looked everywhere. Besides the handful of buildings that they could see, buildings which were more than three stories tall, the depot itself was bigger than any building in Twin Forks, bigger even than the bank in Barling. There were lots of people about, with lots of folks dressed like some here on the train, many of the men with long coats and top hats smoking cigarettes from extended, tapered holders, some of the ladies hats resembling overstuffed fruit bowls. Their train car was suddenly nearly full, every seat, mostly people but also Clem saw several seats taken up with hat boxes and luggage that he imagined was too fancy for the rooftop or racks with the other valises. There were some other children on board now, two separate families by the look of it, both well-to-do. One group had three young girls and one boy, the girls all dressed like miniature versions of their Ma and a tiny boy of no more than three dressed in a suit and tie exactly like his Pa. Then, two girls who looked older than Clem sat across the way, travelling with their Pa and maybe one of their memaws who kept scolding them both for being fidgety, and then one for smiling at Clem. A man with a monocle, a long, droopy mustache and a very stern expression sat behind them and was reading a newspaper, making a point to snap it loudly as he turned and smoothed out each page. He had some sort of spot, 'from their livers' on one cheek like their memaw had on her hands. Clem could tell that the man was eying them pretty carefully, probably wondering who they were and why they were travelling alone. Maybe worried that they might be ruffians intent on stealing from him should he doze off or lose attention. Twice Clem caught Terrence looking at the man queerly; his long mustache and discoloration undoubtedly garnering the boy's attention, so Clem pinched Terrence's knee just hard enough and whispered that it wasn't right to stare.

"Now, 'member to stick close by when we get to St. Louis. Don't need to be gettin' lost."

"Okay, Clem."

"An' try not to be talkin' to nobody neither. Ya heard Mr. Munroe, to be quiet about havin' our saving, having our money. We saved all them years for to getcha fixed up by a big-city doc and we're gonna need all of it. 'Member, that's why we're goin' on this here train."

Terrence was paying little attention to Clem and more on everything else, but less so what was flying past the windows ouside. "Gurl. She's purdy," Terrence said it a little too loudly and Clem was grateful for the racket that the full train made between the clanging and the passenger chatter so the girl who smiled didn't hear his brother's blurt. Clem was doing his best to sit proper, to appear as mature as possible. Clem had to inform Terrence on several occasions to wait to talk about the girls at school or in town until they were alone as it could make the girls uncomfortable but apparently as these were strangers Terrence must have forgotten this lesson. Clem cast a quick glance and saw the girl pretending to mind her memaw but instead stealing looks at both he and Terrence, stifling a giggle at the younger boy's innocently clownish grins.

The train picked up speed and Little Rock quickly became just a dot behind them, as Twin Forks had.

The boys thought that Little Rock, Arkansas was big. Nearing St. Louis, Missouri the train got past the outskirts which feathered in for miles and into a long, strange tunnel, not one through a mountain like the one that they'd already been through but one that dipped underground and into the Union Station, serving twenty-two different railways, the largest in the world. Munroe told them that the station: handled more'n one hundred thousand passengers each and every day. Clem wasn't sure but he thought that might be more people riding trains into and out of St. Louis than there were people living within the entire State ofArkansas, as the train finally jerked to a stop and the other passengers quickly stood and gathered their things and disembarked. The girl across the aisle was smiling at both of them as her memaw shuffled her along, and the mustachioed man with the monocle eyed Clem directly as he took his top hat and walking stick and strode past. For all of his planning about how to get here, Clem had no plan once they arrived. They sat in their seats, frozen.

"Time to go, boys," Munroe began walking along with a hand broom and dustpan, lightly cleaning all of the seat rows. "How long ya'll gonna be staying in 'St. Looie'?"

Clem said: "Well, we need to go to see the doc. Like we told ya. About Terrence." The boys shouldered their bags and stood side-by-side. Clem put his arm around his brother.

"Lots of doctors here. Got one in p'ticular?"

"Uh, no, sir. Don't know how many there'd be." He actually just assumed there would be only one but that he would be a very good one, one of the best, like Pa always said. Dumb, Clem -he berated himself. Only little towns like Twin Forks had just a single doc. "Well, you might start at the City Hospital then. It's some miles south. Down on Lafayette Avenue, runs right out there," Munroe pointed arbitrarily as they were still underground. "If you can't find it, jes' ask someone ta point you to 'Lafayette'."

They thanked Munroe and slowly left the security of the train, Terrence holding on to the back of Clem's coat and Clem inching his way toward the open lobby, maneuvering through the incredible streams of humans moving in a chaotic fashion that approached from all sides and angles, people chatting and gabbing, some with stern, serious expressions, others laughing, drunk maybe, carefree. Clem, his brother by his side, suddenly felt very, very small. He took a breath and pushed down on his stocking foot, the folded fifty-dollar bill still pressed snuggly (and safely) beneath his right foot. The train station itself was massive, made almost entirely of stone with an ornate ceiling above the lobby that Terrence noted was: high as the clouds. Had the boys merely spent a night there and then returned home it would have been by far their greatest adventure and undoubtedly the envy of most of the other Twin Forks town boys. Clem stopped for a moment to take it all in. Here there were twenty ticket windows with passengers lined in front of each, instead of one window when they boarded in Arkansas. There were vendors of every kind selling newspapers and cigars, produce and hot foods, flowers -though why would anyone pay for something you could just go and pick? -and shoe shines for gentlemen. Smells wafted that were exotic, unknown, and Clem began to salivate and realized they hadn't had anything to eat or anything to drink since they'd left Twin Forks early that morning.

"Clem, I'm hungry," Terrence said, timely.

"Ya read m' mind," Clem steered the boy over to a side where there were men and young men, some boys selling fruit and some selling bread rolls and some offering cooked meats that Clem couldn't quite place. They gravitated to a vendor who had something that looked like sausage frying in a pan, but these were thin and of a different color than Clem was used to. He stopped to watch as another man made a purchase but Terrence simply couldn't contain himself and let go of Clem's coat then sped around and went right up to the vendor, dangerously close to the hot cooking pan.

"Careful," the man said in English but with a heavy accent of origin that Clem had never heard before. The man leaned over and a little too gruffly moved Terrence a couple of feet back with a giant, callused hand. They watched as another man handed the vendor a dime and a nickel and took possession of one of the funny pieces of sausage that the vendor handed back to the man stuffed into an equally unusually shaped dinner roll.

"Hot dogs. Get your hot dogs!" The vendor called out as he worked, ignoring the boys who rightly didn't look like that had much if any money and unknowingly drew the attention of several vendors as possible thieves due to their loitering. The vendor turned and looked right at them. "What's it gonna be, boys? Can't just stand there blocking the way for regular customers."

Clem stepped forward boldly. "We'll buy for two, please. One fer us each."

"Be thirty-cents," the unimpressed vendor waited until he could see Clem counting out the coins before whipping into action and producing two more bread-filled sausages which he traded for the coins. Clem took a moment to inspect his as they walked away but Terrence was too hungry for any of that.

"Ow!" he cried out as he took a big bite, some hot grease squirting out from a hole in the casing and dripping and burning onto his chin which he promptly wiped off on his coat sleeve. Then, he flashed one of his loopy grins and quickly took another big bite. "Hey Clem! Issa sausage, kinda, I think, but issa dinner roll!"

"Guess they call sausage 'hot dog' here," Clem took a bite of his own and was immediately awash in a flood of wonderful new spices. By his second, more cautious bite than his brother, who despite the burning from the hot grease continued to wolf his down, Clem's stomach immediately began to warm. They walked slowly to one side, away from the flow of people who they seemed all but invisible to.

"Clem, I'm thirsty."

Normally Clem would have had them drink from a water fountain like they had in the town square back home but that simply wouldn't do here in this majestic environment. "Let's share one bottle 'a soda pop."

"Caint I have m'own? I kin drink it! Like from Uncle Ned!"

Clem was on a high. "Okay. Sure."

The hot dogs were gone by the time they left the station, both boys licking at their fingers and savoring pleasant memories while sipping on cold bottles of Coca-Cola, one apiece.

"Best dog-sausages I ever et, Clem."

"Hot dog, Terrence. And that's the first one ya et. They call 'em 'hot dog' but that's just a name. Nobody makes up sausage outta no dogs, you know it. They use 'a hog like we would. Wouldn't wanna eat no cooked up dog, would ya?"

"Uh, uh!" Terrence couldn't believe his ears, that his brother would even suggest such a thing.

"Me neither. Wasreal good, though. Maybe, we kin have another one when we're on our way back home after the doc." Clem was aware of every penny he held for them, but now that they were done with their saving he figured it was ok to indulge, at least a little bit. He'd planned ahead, on having to pay for rent on a room for a night for them to sleep in, maybe two nights even while the doctor performed his magic. The rooming house in Twin Forks cost a dollar and fifteen cents. Sometimes the doc in Twin Falls made you sleep at his house for a day or more, if you were real sick or hurt real bad. Pa was kept for four days after he had his fall. If they were nearer to home they might have slept outdoors but not here in such a big, unknown city.

They walked through the heavy front doors which were nearly always open as people strode in and out. The street in front of the depot was nearly as crowded with people as the station lobby. With an extra wide thoroughfare absolutely jam-packed with carts and horses and cars and delivery trucks it made indoors suddenly seem more manageable.

"Whoa," Terrence stopped in his tracks.

The commotion was unimaginable; the end of a busy day winding down with people coming and going from the numerous trains and others who lived locally crisscrossing the street on car and truck and foot and horse and bicycle and motorbike. Some vendors were closing up their shops. It was important that Clem take the lead so he drew a deep breath then ushered Terrence down the enormous set of stone steps, nearly bumping into several passersby as the boys made their way purposefully to the street corner where the word Lafayette was clearly visible on a prominent street sign that unlike in Twin Forks was made of metal with ornate styling and not just whitewash painted on wood. Clem could read okay but he didn't do real well with words he hadn't been was practically frozen from all there was to see and might have no idea if he were standing on the corner all alone. The cross street was Nebraska which Clem knew from his state studies so Clem figured the other funny word that started with: L-a-f- must be the right avenue.

Now, which way was north?

A streetcar made its way, pushing aside the harried throng who all seemed to be in flow with its pace and moved at the last possible second. Clem had never seen one but he knew what it was from school- like a train and a bus put together- and there were so many different types of automobiles and trucks that he could get dizzy if he tried to watch them all. One time, an out-of-towner had stopped in Twin Forks for gasoline in a Cadillac, an event told to Pa by Mr. Winslow which caused Pato stroke his chin and offer aloud that he was sorry he hadn't been in town to see it. Featured something called a: 'straight-eight'. Pa said it would drive faster than any car or truck we'd ever seen, faster than a train even, maybe even some airplanes I remember thinking wildly. There were so many cars criss-crossing this way and that that Clem figured odds were that some of the fancy ones, they must be Cadillacs. He made a thought to keep his eyes open for one so he could tell Pa if Pa should ask that he and Terrence had seen one themselves. Clem saw two men he figured for constables, again from pictures he'd seen in books. Twin Forks had a sheriff and deputy sheriff who wore uniform shirts over their normal britches and had silver stars on their chests (and drawn on ones on their hats). These men here had full, deep blue uniforms and funny looking hats but also wore silver stars and had long, black sticks that hung on one side of their britches, pistols on the other. Clem noticed that they looked at the boys kind of mean. If in fact Clem was paying closer attention he would have noticed a lot of faces on strangers that looked somber, suspicious or angered. Nearly everyone in Twin Forks made eye contact, smiled and said: good day, or: hello. The men tipped their caps.

The constables first caught Clem's eye because the men were staring at them with suspicion. They asked Clem where they were going and Clem told them the doctor down to the south on Lafayette and the constables said that they must mean the hospital and that it was quite some walk and they might ought to ride a streetcar which would take them more than halfway but Clem said they were okay walking so the constable shrugged and the boys set out on their way. Clem assumed, erroneously, that the streetcar cost the same amount in money to ride as the train from Twin Forks had, and he wasn't about to spend another three dollars seventy cents. They were used to walking.

It wasn't dark yet though clearly headed that way and the boys walked along with their sacs slung over their shoulders, Terrence holding onto Clem's shirt tail and yammering on about all sorts of things. Clem decided that they better see about a little more to eat for supper and then find a place to sleep. He was aware of other boys shadowing them from alleyways and rooftops as he and Terrence made their way through the neighborhoods and the most urban part of the city and this reaffirmed his notion that sleeping outdoors was not a good idea in such a big city with so many strangers. Thankfully, they didn't look like much, their clothes old and ill-fitting, bags made from old burlap sacks. Without incident, after two or three hours walking and the last of the sunlight Clem turned in to a building that had a painted sign along the roadway that said: Rooms.

"Boy's travelling alone are ya?" The man asked when Clem knocked on the door.

"Yessir. Goin' to see the doc tomorrow."

"Which doc is that?" Clem didn't rightly know so he told the man they were headed to the hospital further down south on Lafayette and the man nodded and said: "Well, you're on Lafayette but the hospital's still a good ten miles from here. You could take the streetcar a good ways."

Clem nodded politely but he already knew this information and saw that the room would cost them two dollars and twenty cents so additional train fares were even further out of the question. The man asked if they were hungry and Terrence blurted: yes- then proceeded to tell the man about eating the dog-sausage before Clem quickly corrected him with 'hot dog'. The man said there was a mercantile that was closed but a saloon next to it which was open and would serve the boys a hot plate for a quarter if they went to the back door and knocked and that the hot plate was probably enough food for the two of them to split just one so after he showed them which room they could sleep in they shouldered their bags and ventured across the way. The 'hot plate' consisted of boiled potatoes and onions and some kind of meat stew. They argued over whether it was meat from a cow or a lamb as they shared it sitting on the small bed they would sleep in afterward, eating with their fingers and passing back and forth one spoon and making quite a mess on their shirts. Terrence especially had food all over his face as well; the excitement of the trip and probable exhaustion made for particularly sloppy eating. They agreed the stew was only okay, not great like the hot dogs had been, or even as good as Ma's.

"Caint forget to bring the bowl back to the man t'morrow 'fore we go, like he said," Clem told Terrence but Terrence had already drifted off to sleep, fully dressed with dinner remnants all on his shirt and face, still. Clem organized their bags, set the empty bowl on the table and took off his shirt and britches before lying down beside his brother who was stone asleep. He tried desperately to stare at the ceiling and reflect on their amazing day and worry a little about Maworrying but, exhausted he too fell quickly asleep.

Six

"Clem, m' shoe! Hey Clem!"

It was nearing ten o'clock. They had been walking since just after sun up, munching on a couple of hard rolls, the conversation leaning more and more toward seeing the doc. The rows upon rows of bigger buildings had given way to rows upon rows of smaller buildings, apartments mostly, then houses, of decreasing quality and size, then finally farms but only for a little while before the buildings started up again, growing back up in reverse. Clem was pretty sure he could see the congested area in the distance which was where the hospital probably was (he hoped) but the walk was a lot more than he would have bargained for had he known. His legs were so tired, and his feet so sore too, that the three dollars seventy-cents he'd (wrongly) figured for the streetcars might have been a worthwhile investment after all.

"Lemme see," Clem stopped walking and set both of their bags down. He'd been carrying Terrence's bag for him after the fourth or fifth time Terrence stopped to gawk at something, or play with a stray dog, and left his bag behind. Their shoes were pretty worn to begin with and now Terrence squatted low and peeled back the front of one shoe showing Clem two of his toes, one of them poking through the stocking, the skin covered black with dirt.

They sat on the pathway and took off Terrence's shoe, Clem inspecting it closely then pulling off the stocking and rolling it over halfway again so there would be some protection for Terrence's toe. "Might be a little tight. We'll look for a cobbler then, maybe. Uncle Ned'll pro'lly get us new ones soon anyway, won't cost us nothing', like he always does."

"Okay, Clem."

Clem shouldered the bags and they started back down the pathway. A lot of the sights and smells of yesterday at the train station and its neighborhood surrounds were beginning to materialize again as the buildings became taller and almost seamless as far down the avenue as they could see, and once again they drew passing interest from neighborhood boys, vendors and constables.

Clem double-checked for the hundredth time that they were still on Lafayette when he froze, now that they were so close suddenly unsure of what to do. For something he had thought so long about since his old memaw first brought up the possibility he was woefully unprepared. Really, it was miraculous he'd gotten this far on his own, with fifty dollars folded inside his stocking, now actually standing in front of the St. Louis City Hospital. People were shuffling in and out of the multiple doorways almost as regularly as they had at the train station.

Everyone always seems in such a hurry – Clem thought.

Nurses in pressed white dresses and crisp white hats scurried along, shielding from the cold wind, alone and in little groups. Distinguished gentlemen in proper dress, far fewer in number, moved decidedly slower and less concerned with the cold as they ambled up the wide stone steps and went inside. Workers or patients were obvious of every ilk including some with yellowish skin and funny looking eyes that Clem had read were people born somewhere called: China -which all that he knew about it was that is lay across the great sea. A strange looking truck painted bright red with a big white cross on the side sped up from down the street, a sheriff's siren wailing, and turned sharply enough that Clem cringed it might lose a wheel or plum tip over then it whipped around sharply and backed up to a loading deck where two men dressed in strange white uniforms came out through wide doors and helped to move someone from the back of the red truck to a thin cart that stood high off the ground on wheels. The men wheeled the person inside on the cart then returned and jumped back into the truck and sped off again. Clem figured it for a big city ambulance; he'd read about them too. Twin Forks didn't have an ambulance. If someone got too sick for the doc to manage with the help of Mrs. Stemple then the doc would have the sheriff drive the person to Barling, or if someone was bleeding real bad, which happened quite often in farm accidents, the hearse from Fineman Funeral Parlor would be dispatched for transport, generally making the already traumatized rider all the more uncomfortable. Clem had only seen the hearse twice; when Bobby Marchand got his right arm tore clean off in a reaper and when Beau Longley got a grape stake driven through his chest after his Pa's tractor skipped over it and shot it back like a giant arrow, right through the boy who'd been busy sifting onions behind the tractor and certainly not expecting an airborne grape stake shooting like an arrow.

Clem picked the biggest set of doors and ushered Terrence inside, the boys standing off to one side of the hubbub and again feeling rather small but better than yesterday at the big train station. "Take of yer cap," Clem said after he'd done the same. There was an 'Admitting' window, a word that Clem did not know. He knew that 'admit' meant to tell what you did, but the bank and train station and one of the granaries all had windows like this one so he figured it was where you started.

"Sit over there. There's some books you kin look at fer a minute while I ask 'bout seein' the doc."

"Okay, Clem," Terrence climbed into a chair and then leaned far over to take something to look at from a pile strewn about on a nearby table. There were several other people waiting in the same area, some who looked sickly or had others with them including a few children who were there with their Mas busy trying to keep their kids under control.

"I'm leavin' both 'a our bags. Keep watch on 'em, ya hear?"

"Okay, Clem."

Clem set their burlap sacks down right up against the front of Terrence's chair where he couldn't miss them and took Terrence's cap and set it right on top. Then Clem walked over and stood patiently behind a few people who were already standing in front of the window. He worked at his cap in his hands.

"Yes? May I help you?" A black-skinned woman wearing the dress and hat of a nurse looked down at him. Twin Forks only had one black-skinned family, the Washingtons, and they were farmers just like everyone else.

"Uh, well, we come to see the doc. Bout m' brother, Terrence." He wasn't sure if he should address her as 'Ma'am', her being black-skinned and all but he would address Mrs. Washington or their memaw that way if he saw her in Twin Forks.

"What's he got? Is he here with you?"

Clem motioned over his shoulder toward the waiting area. "Well, he's got two things to see about." Clem leaned forward to speak a little lower. "He walks funny on account 'a one 'a his legs bein' too short or bein' too long, 'n then our Pa he had 'a accident 'n Terrence was with 'im, an' m'old memaw what's dead now said his bell had got rung, I believe." Clem was nervous but proud of himself for presenting everything so thoroughly and thought maybe now was the time to show the fifty dollars but he didn't want anyone to see him having his money in his stocking foot.

"Where's your parents? Do you got parents? How old are you? How old is your brother?"

There were some people behind Clem in line and bored or impatient with their own concerns who all seemed to be paying attention to nothing but the exchange going on at the window. An awful lot of questions asked awfully quickly.

"Uh, we got parents but they caint come over with us on account 'a the farm. We come up on the train from Twin Forks. That's inArkansas. On the train. Me, I'm Clem, I'm almost thirteen, 'n m' brother, Terrence, he's ten."

"So they know you're here? Your parents?"

Clem had an answer ready that wouldn't be a lie because by now Maand Pawould definitely have heard from Mrs. Spasky who had been coming off the train that the boys were headed onto it. And with all of the talk about St. Louis and the docs before, surely by now she would have figured it out. "Yeah," he told the woman, and then he spoke even lower. "I got the money fer it."

The woman busied herself with something off to the side then turned back around and said:"Can you read and write?"

"Uh, yes Ma'am." Gosh, he hope she meant words that he knew.

The dark skinned woman didn't act any different when he referred to her as Ma'am and handed him a writing board with some papers and a pencil. "Go over and sit and fill out these forms, best you can. If you need help with anything wait until you're done then come back and ask me."

Clem nodded, pushed his cap into his back pocket and took the papers back over to where Terrence was waiting.

Was waiting.

"Terrence. Hey, Terrence!"

His brother was gone.

At first Terrence tried to find something to look at, like Clem had told him to, but then Clem said to watch their two bags also and Terrence didn't see how he could look at a picture book or papers and look at the bags at the same time. Or why he had to sit down; except for his toe hurting he wasn't even tired from all of the walking, and this place, this 'hops-spital' had all sorts of nice people in it, plus the hurt people who were in the rolling chairs or had come in from the funny red truck he'd seen out front. Well, stuff like this was downright irresistible. Blood and injury didn't bother Terrence none; he liked cleaning the critters he and Clem shot or trapped to eat or for their skins. Made him think of the 'assident' with Pathough, made his head hurt some and he didn't notice but his lower lip sagged a bit.

Then, a boy who was a little older, maybe Clem's age, who'd been leaning against a wall across the room motioned Terrence over, motioned him to follow, and then to bring the sacs with him, which Terrence did, following the boy to the edge of the room then around a corner and down a long, shiny white hallway, hurrying to keep up while carrying both sacs.

"You hungry? What's your name?" The boy whom Terrence had assumed was just bored and there with one of the families now seemed to be much more mature and maybe at the hospital by himself, or maybe even worked here.

"Terrence. M'name's Terrence. I'm 'a hungry."

"Got any money? They got a dining hall down the way but you gotta have money."

"Got two half-a-dollars."

This comment made the boy stop for a moment, then look around. He looked squarely at Terrence. "Here, why'n't you let me carry one of them bags for you. We can go for something to eat."

"No!" Terrence admonished loudly, pulling the bags away somewhat aggressively when the other boy reached for one. Clem had been real 'pa'cific' about watchin' over their sacs.

The boy, he said his name was 'Boo', looked Terrence over. The red haired kid was small and looked like some farm hick; dirty, tussled hair, no sense of grooming or style, britches with patches and holes, one toe pushing through a shoe. A little twitchy too, crazy maybe even, eye's flickering around, lower lip tending to droop. But he looked pretty strong and looked like he might put up a fight or holler really loud if Boo simply took the bags from him and ran. He mentioned having a dollar which Boo was sure he could acquire easily and without any ruckus if he could just get the boy off somewhere alone, get a deck of cards. Farm hicks were no match for Boo. He could take it from him in minutes. Farm hick probably didn't even know any of the games. Besides, Boo was hungry.

"Suit yourself. C'mon. This way."

Terrence followed the boy because he could now smell some of those same new cooking smells he'd smelled yesterday. "Kin we eat two 'a them dog sausage? They got dog sausage at this 'hopspital'? 'Cause I kin eat one m'self."

"Dog sausage? You mean hot dogs. In a bun, right? Yeah, pro'lly they got 'em here but they got better stuff too. C'mon, Terrence. We're friends now, right? Put 'er there." Boo held out his hand which Terrence tried clumsily to shake while shouldering the two bags. "Dining hall's just over here. Hurt your foot? That why your here?"

"Didn't hurt it; it's too short. Or it's too long. What doc says. My brother, Clem… we caint tell."

Boo wasn't really listening but then Terrence wasn't either. They entered the dining room, only sparsely filled as the staff readied for lunch.

"'Time is it? Got a pocketwatch?"

Terrence shook his head. "Uh, uh. Ain't got no pocketwatch." Terrence kind of wished he did; he could always tell someone the time as long as the clock had the numbers drawn on.

"C'mon. We can get some eggs, grits, toast'n sausages. Fifteen cents." Boo took a plate from a stack and handed one to Terrence who could only use one hand as the other was occupied keeping the sacs from falling off of his shoulders and onto the floor.

"Get out of here you rapscallion!" An older woman who was serving the food pointed a ladle and a glare at Boo. "I catch you stealing…"

"We got money. Me 'n my cousin! M' cousin Terrence here."

"I got two half-a-dollars," Terrence added proudly.

The woman was skeptical. "Lemme see one."

Boo turned to Terrence. "Give one to her. Don't you wanna eat?"

"I'm hungry, already tole you," Terrence agreed. "Half-a-dollars' 's at m' house. My brother Clem, he'll take us over there later but I come to see the doc. At the 'hopspital'."

Suddenly angery, Boo spun Terrence around. His demeanor had changed completely and Terrence was suddenly frighgtened of his new friend. "You lied to me you little hick." He squeezed Terrence's shoulder hard making Terrence drop both bags.

"Ow!" Terrence wailed.

"You leave him alone! I'm calling for the constable," the old woman turned and began to holler. Boo looked frantic for a moment then grabbed the nearest bag he could and ran off. Terrence was too preoccupied with his hurt shoulder at first to notice the theft. Then a couple of nurses who were just coming to the food line and had seen some of what had happened and came over to him.

"Are you okay?" A nurse asked. She had hair nearly as red as Terrence's.

"Squeezed m' shoulder, hard. Hurts."

The older woman returned with a constable and began explaining about the theft.

Just then, amidst the minor commotion, Clem burst into the room. "Terrence!" He strode over with an angry look then saw that the boy was crying. "Told ya wait by them chairs!"

Terrence was too upset to speak. He waved his arms, his lower lip drooped extra heavily and his head hung low, swaying side-to-side as he tried to speak.

"A boy stole his bag," the serving woman with the constable reiterated loudly enough for Clem to hear. Clem looked down and saw only Terrence's bag. Relief washed over Clem that there was no money missing, just his change of clothes, a book he'd brought along and the map. The constable seemed mostly annoyed by the matter and nodded his head disinterestedly, at one point saying that he knew who they were describing, he'd see about it and that the boy went by the name 'Boo'. Then the constable walked off without another word.

"Are you hungry? Are you boys here alone?" Another nurse asked.

Clem didn't want to lose his place back in the first line and still had the form papers and pencil lead in his hand. "We ate some this morning already, Ma'am. I gotta go 'n git back in the line, got the forms," he held them up.

The nurses were convinced that they were okay so Clem took Terrence's bag and the boys turned and headed back to the admitting area. Terrence calmed some and absentmindedly took hold of Clem's shirt tail.

"But Clem, that boy…he said we could eat another a' them dog sausage. Hey Clem. I'm hungry."

"Just stand here. Where I can see ya. Then we'll eat something. Promise. " Clem stood Terrence off to one side and then got back into the line after it took him nearly half an hour to fill in the three pages of forms the best he could. He had Terrence stand far enough to one side where it would be hard for him to hear what would be discussed at the window.

When his turn finally came, the lady smiled at him a little as she took the forms. "It says here that the patient, 'Terrence Wilcox', who I assume is your brother…"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"…is listed as being ten years old. Now, under 'nature of the inquiry' you left this blank."

"Uh, wadn't sure what it meant, what was meant by that question," Clem replied sheepishly.

"It means: why are you here? What's wrong with him? Looks all right to me." The woman could see Terrence standing off to one side of the line, fidgeting with his feet, talking quietly to himself or maybe his hurt toe.

Clem could tell that while they pretended not to, people in the line were again eavesdropping on the conversation and he began to sweat. He repeated: "Uh, well he's got one leg that's longer and one that's shorter but we caint tell which," he said loudly enough for Terrence to possibly hear, then he leaned forward a bit and spoke lower as the woman leaned in as well. "He also got his bell rung bad in 'a accident off the tractor with Pa." He repeated. "Makes him talk funny and stuff."

"I see. Well, sit over there and I'll have a nurse come and get you. She'll take you to see one of the doctors."

Clem nodded and feeling grown up and proud, he stepped out of the line. He went back over to Terrence and said: "We gotta go 'n wait for a nurse ta come see us."

"Okay, Clem."

"Did you hurt your leg?" The nurse asked Terrence as she walked the boys down a series of steps and long hallways.

"Nah, it don't hurt none."

"It's always been that way," Clem offered. "Since he was real little."

"I see," the nurse decided not to probe any more. "You may sit here. I'll come for you when Doctor Smithson is ready to see you."

Clem had prepared for this. "Uh, would it be all right if I talk with the doc real quick first please, Ma'am. Before he sees after Terrence?"

The nurse looked at Clem a little oddly but he seemed very mature for his age so she merely shrugged. Clem had told Terrence that he needed to speak with the doctor privately about the fifty dollars and gratefully Terrence did not question the matter.

Doctor Smithson was a short, rotund gentleman with very curly hair, half of it gone gray. He wore a white long coat over a shirt and tie but the tie hung loosely, and had wire-rim spectacles. The nurse led Clem to a set of chairs in front of a large desk that was piled with papers and samples of human bones that were made from clay or something, like the ones Clem had seen when his teacher taught them the sciences. He was busy reading something and did not look up. "Thank you, Myra," he mumbled. After what seemed like forever, he set the papers he was reading down, adjusted his glasses and picked up the forms Clem had filled out earlier. "Hello…Terrence? I'm Doctor Smithson," he extended a chubby hand which Clem shook somewhat awkwardly.

"I'm Clem…short for Clement. My brother, he's Terrence."

"Okay," Doctor Smithson scratched his head and read quickly down the form. "What can I do for you?" He stared intently through the spectacles and was clearly a bit harried.

Clem explained the situation about the 'rung bell' again, best he could, and Doctor Smithson nodded his head and seemed to follow what he was saying. "Well, let's have a look at him. I must ask, since you're here by yourselves, how do you intend to pay?"

Clem knew he could trust the doc as you trusted them with your health, and what was more important than that? While Doctor Smithson looked at him queerly he pushed his one shoe off with the toes of the other then he slid off his stocking and carefully removed the folded and now tightly pressed fifty-dollar bill.

"I see. Well, that will certainly more than cover your visit. That's an awful lot of money, young man." The doctor crossed his arms across his chest and eyed Clem suspiciously. "Are you sure it wasn't obtained nefariously?" Clem smartened, reddened and sat back into the hard chair. He had little to no idea of the question but the look on the doctor's face made him nervous. Could the fifty-dollar bill not be real? Had he been taken in by the banker? This seemed unlikely, yet... "Is it rightfully yours?" The doctor's tone softened a bit. "You didn't steal it?"

Far from offended, Clem was relieved. "Uh, no sir. Mr. Duggan, at the bank over in Barling, he gave it to us."

The doctor now assumed that it was some act of charity on the part of a wealthy banker as the boy looked like a typical laborer who could never have amassed such a fortune through legitimate means. This made the doctor look more favorably at the situation.

"Well, let's go have a look at…" he looked down his nose at the page, "…Terrence."

Terrence was sitting in the waiting area swinging his legs beneath the chair while he went on and on to a smiling nurse about things from Twin Forks. "Thas's m' brother, there," he pointed. "Hey Clem!"

Doctor Smithson took command. "You must be Terrence. I'm Doctor Smithson. How are you today?"

"M' leg don't hurt none. I tole the lady."

Doctor Smithson smiled. "Well that's certainly good. Come into the examination room and we'll have a look at you. How does that sound?"

Terrence looked at Clem then back. "Kin m' brother come? Clem?"

"Of course."

The doctor took them into an examination area while the nurse, Myra, spoke with a couple who just came in, told them to wait, and then followed behind the boys and closed the door. The doctor motioned for Terrence to sit up on the table. Clem put his hand out and was about to surreptitiously stop Terrence's leg swinging before he started but then the doctor came over with a round mirror on his forehead and began looking into Terrence's eyes and then down into his throat.

"Just a quick check then we'll see about that leg."

The doctor cast Clem a flash that Clem couldn't interpret but seemed of worry or possible warning as he finished looking into Terrence's eyes then moved to the end of the table and had Terrence lay back down so he could examine his legs.

After a quick examination Doctor Smithson sat back and said: "I'm going to have you go a see a colleague of mine for a moment. Will that be okay?"

"He means to speak with another doctor," Myra added kindly when both boys looked confused.

"Okay," Terrence said cheerfully. He enjoyed all of the attention and wondered if he'd be taller, like the longer leg, or shorter like the shorter one, after the doc gave him some medicine.

The doctor returned. "Myra, why don't you take Terrence here over to Doctor Wells' office, please? Clement and I will be right along." Myra steered Terrence out of the examination room after Terrence got an approving nod from Clem. Terrence took the nurse's hand. Clem didn't much like being called Clement but he kept his tongue.

"Your brother appears to have what's called a 'subdural hematoma'. Most likely from the," Doctor Smithson returned to the notes, "tractor accident you said he suffered a few years ago. Pressure on his brain can affect his speech, his facial muscles, that sort of thing. I'm not sure what we could do about his leg. It is apparently congenital. That means he was born with it. I'm afraid for now he'll just have to walk a little funny. Perhaps as he grows it might balance out some. Do you understand?" Clem nodded though truthfully his head was throbbing and he only understood a little. But he trusted the doc because, well, you just always did.

The doctor stood and opened the door. "Shall we?"

Seven

"What happened on your face?" Clem was aghast as he and Doctor Smithson entered another office and heard Terrence asking this of the new doc, Doctor Wells. Terrence was standing next to the tall, thin man with a long, waxed mustache who was also dressed in a long, white coat. Terrence was pointing at a liver spot on the man's face. Clem stood dumbly, frozen to talk. The man from the seat behind them on the train! Doctor Wells still had the same stern look he'd had on the train, and when Clem saw into his eyes he thought he saw faint recognition. Terrence continued: "Did ya get kick by a goat?"

"Terrence!" Clem came to his senses and moved quickly to his brother's side. Clem was going to apologize but being in this office with two strange doctors, and two strange nurses, in a big, unknown city made him feel more like crying than trying to be polite.

Doctor Wells said: "It's quite alright. Terrence and I were just getting acquainted. The marks on my face are called 'cavernous haemangioma' and I have had them since birth. Not unlike your leg, am I right? Your leg has been this way since you were born?" Clem nodded so Terrence did too.

The doctors spoke quietly between themselves for a moment then Doctor Smithson and Myra went to the door.

Doctor Smithson said: "I have another patient to see about. Come back to my office after Doctor Wells has had a look at you, okay? You're in fine hands. Doctor Wells is one of our hospital's finest surgeons."

"Hops-spital," Terrence concurred. Doctor Smithson smiled. Doctor Wells did not. The boys nodded again as Doctor Smithson left.

"Now," Doctor Wells went behind his desk to read the forms and some notes that Doctor Smithson had written then came back around affixing his own round mirror to his head. "Follow me please," he led them through a couple of sets of doors to another examination room, this one larger than Doctor Smithson's. There was some strange looking apparatus sitting on the countertops, and some things attached to a chair. Doctor Well's nurse was an enormous woman nearly as tall as the doctor himself and maybe twice as heavy.

"Let's have a look, shall we?" Doctor Wells had Terrence lie back on the table, and with the big nurse hovering Terrence looked nervously at Clem for a moment before lying all the way down. "Yes," Doctor Wells went on as if he was orating, "I believe I saw you two gentlemen travelling alone by train." He glanced at Clem for confirmation.

"Uh, yes sir. We came from Twin Forks."

"Twin Forks? Missouri?"

"No, sir. Twin Forks is in Arkansas." Clem didn't really feel right about correcting the doc.

"Ar-kinsaw," Terrence nervously concurred. He was fidgeting extra with his hands, and the big nurse tried to gently get him to release them and lay them by his side.

"Have you parents? An aunt or uncle maybe? Someone who looks after you?" The doctor bent to peer into Terrence's ear. Terrence giggled.

"Parents, yes, sir. Ma and Pa. And our Uncle Ned, he comes 'round a lot since Pa took his fall."

"I see. And they sent you here alone? You must be very mature boys." Clem was relieved not to have to tell the tale he'd conjured for why they'd come by themselves, so it appeared to be complete with Ma's blessings. The doctor walked around to look into Terrence's other ear. This time, Terrence did not giggle and seemed to flinch a little when Doctor Wells moved his ear around.

"Well." The doctor moved the mirror to one side. "I am going to perform a procedure. It won't take very long and should make you feel much better. You'll go to sleep for a little while and when you wake up you'll have to stay in bed to rest until I tell you that you can get up. The nurse here will help you clean up, get you ready."

Doctor Wells and the nurse walked off. Terrence squeezed Clem's hand. Whatever fun was being gleaned from all of the attention or praise for their maturity was rapidly fading and being replaced with fear.

They sat alone in the room.

"I'm 'ascared, Clem."

Clem wanted to tell him not to be but the truth was that Clem was scared too. Plenty. The nurse had taken Clem aside and quickly explained what the doctor was going to do, trying not to get Clem too nervous but the idea of a doc making a hole in Terrence's head was downright terrifying. Didn't the doctor know that blood came out when you got holes in you? And, if too much blood did come out you got real sick or maybe even died? Of course he knew this; he was a doctor! Clem's throat began to swell and his head began to swim. What if the doc made a hole too big and all of Terrence's blood ran out of him and he did die? What then? The only thing Clem was glad about was that Terrence didn't know this himself. Terrence was already real nervous. Clem knew it wasn't his place to question adults especially a doc. He wished he could talk to Maon a telephone and ask her if it was all okay but he hadn't ever used a telephone before and he wasn't sure how, nor did he know how he would go about having someone tell Ma to go into town where some stores or a few well-to-do neighbors had telephones that he might talk to her on. Smiling weakly at his brother, Clem fretted.

After a while, dizzy, Clem had lost track of time, the big nurse and an orderly came into the room and had Terrence sit in a wheelchair. Terrence seemed momentarily preoccupied with the notion of rolling himself around but the orderly told him that it was his job to wheel him which Terrence still found some amusement in though neither boy understood the reasoning as Terrence could walk just fine on his own. Clem followed as they wheeled Terrence down to another room where the big nurse left for a minute while the orderly had Terrence change out of his clothes and into a strange garment that looked like one of their memaw's house coats but was split up the back. The orderly tied it as tight as he could and assured Terrence that no one would see his buttocks, and that he would be lying on his back to ensure it.

"I'll put your clothes here in this basket and you can get them back later," the orderly told them both. Then the big nurse returned with a rolling table and Clem helped Terrence to climb on while Terrence kept one hand on the back of the funny dress to be sure it didn't open up and show the nurse his backside.

The big nurse said: "It's time to go." This time she didn't offer any soothing words but her tone wasn't mean about it either.

Clem walked alongside of the rolling table, holding tightly to his brother's also clammy hand. There were all sorts of strange smells, bright lights and myriad sounds that included people in pain. It was quite nearly completely overwhelming. The procession wheeled into an operating room where Doctor Wells entered from a different door and went to scrub his hands real clean in a deep sink basin.

Terrence couldn't stop himself from propping up on his elbows to take it all in. "You just lie still, try to calm yourself. Everything's gonna be fine," the big nurse told him.

Clem nodded in agreement but in his own pounding heart he wasn't quite sure.

Clem began to shake, and did everything he could to fight it so Terrence wouldn't notice. The doctor came back over and with the big nurse helped Terrence to move from the rolling table to another table. The orderly then took the rolling table from the room. Clem didn't really see why there was such a fuss; Terrence could walk fine all by himself, but he didn't ask any questions and then figured maybe the doctor and nurse wanted to continue the ruse that they were fixing Terrence's leg in order to make his brother more at ease. The table they moved him onto had leather straps hanging from the sides. Something about it made Clem think of a large, feral dog that was growling just before showing its teeth. Then Clem noticed a tray of tools and instruments the big nurse was arranging- were they all to be used on Terrence? -and he grew so faint that his knees did buckle. Terrence might have noticed them too so Clem quickly tried to draw his attention away.

"This 's what we been plannin' for, Terrence…fer a long time." Clem said low, unable to keep his voice from cracking. "The doc's gonna help ya out, make ya git better."

"You won't even know," the big nurse added. "Doctor Wells is an excellent surgeon, and you'll be fast asleep the whole time. I promise you won't feel anything."

"Ain't tired. Daytime," Terrence said.

"They give ya some medicine fer sleepin'," Clem offered, looking to the nurse gratefully for confirmation. "Like what Pa had. 'Member?" Terrence nodded. This recollection made him feel grown up. If it was okay for Pa then it must be okay for him, too. He calmed a little and stared at the ceiling but did not let go of Clem's sweaty hand.

"Hey, Clem. They got the whitewash put on the roof. Put on the roof an' on the wall. Hey Clem!"

Clem looked up and indeed the ceiling was white just like the walls were.

"I'm afraid you'll have to go now." Doctor Wells came over, and then said to Clem: "You can wait just outside. It won't take long. But Terrence here will have to rest for a good while afterward."

Terrence squeezed Clem's hand extra hard and his eyes began to tear up. "Hey, Clem! I'm 'ascared. Stay here! Caint ya stay here? -Caint ya stay with me? Hey Clem!"

Clem was too choked up to speak. He opened his mouth dumbly. The big nurse tried to smile and motioned toward the waiting area, then told him gently to go there. Clem couldn't even feel his legs as he moved and his head throbbed as he saw as the nurse closed the door to the operating room, watching the last look of tear-streaked fear and utter loneliness on his younger brother's panicked face.

He did as he was told and sat in a chair. Then, for the first time since he'd ventured away from Twin Forks, Clem Wilcox put his head in his hands and cried.

Eight

When Terrence opened his eyes all he knew was that he had no idea where he was and that his whole head hurt, plenty, but especially on one side. For a moment he blinked and stared at the unfamiliar white ceiling. The noises, the murmurs, some wails, echoed through the large room that was bigger than the one in church and rowed with cots, all of them with patients resting on them. Terrence slowly raised his head and tried to get his bearings then saw his brother fast asleep in a chair along the wall. Hey Clem! -he wanted to call out! But no sounds came, and his lips were dry, very, very dry, to the point of cracking, and he was pretty sure he'd never been so thirsty in his whole life, not even after a whole day picking peaches. A new nurse, a tall, thin, older dark skinned woman came over and gave Terrence a sip of water then began asking him how he was feeling when Clem arrived behind her rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Terrence's head was wrapped in bright white bandage and unconsciously he began pulling on it; the nurse scolded him not to. Clem could see a spot of blood on one side of the white gauze. It was not a very big; heck, he'd seen worse from scraped knees, and he was greatly relieved that Terrence didn't lose too much blood through the hole, and that he was still alive.

"Head…hurt," Terrence rasped with some effort past his split lips.

The nurse told him to lie still; that she would go get Doctor Wells. When she wandered off, Clem wondered first about Terrence really being all right, and then how was he different. "Don't ya move 'round none. 'N like the nurse says don't touch yer head. Wait for the doc ta come."

"Thirsty."

"Lemme see if I kin git ya some more water. Don't move, 'n don't touch yer head none though, ya hear me?"

Terrence nodded but was still real groggy, like right after the tractor accident with Pa. He let his eyes slowly close.

Clem looked around and found an orderly with a tray of glasses and a pitcher and was returning with a glass of water just as the nurse came back in with Doctor Wells. Doctor Wells saw Clem and held up his hand.

"Let's have a look before we give him too much to drink. The anesthesia can make him sickly in his stomach." Doctor Wells placed his monocle over his eye and sat on one edge of the cot, then looked first at the bandage and then into both of Terrence's eyes. "Terrence, how do you feel?"

For a moment, blinking, Terrence again seemed unaware of his surroundings. "Head hurt," he mumbled. "Hey…Clem..."

"Can you move your toes for me?"

Terrence's attention got diverted toward his feet. "'M leg…too long…too short." The actual difference had never been visible to either boy.

Doctor Wells said: "Let's have you sit up." The nurse moved over and helped Terrence to sit. For a moment Terrence acted as if his head weighed a hundred pounds and he began blinking rapidly. Clem thought that Terrence might go faint like he'd seen his neighbor Mrs. Lorentzen when she got the letter telling her that her husband had been killed in an accident in the Army.

Clem watched over the Doctor's shoulder, gripping his cap in front of him, squeezing it hard. Something did look a little different in Terrence's eyes, maybe? And Clem waited for his brother's lip to start to droop with his concentration at any time but for some reason it didn't.

"You're doing fine. I want you to spend the night here and I'll have another look in the morning. And then we can see about sending you home. If your head hurts the nurse will give you some medicine that will help you to sleep. You have a few sutures beneath your bandage -stitches; please don't pull them out."

Clem nodded thanks as Doctor Wells moved off and the thin nurse helped Terrence to lie back down. Clem was relieved, encouraged even, but an extra night away from home was expensive; the cot for Terrence in the large, communal room alone cost four dollars per night; it said so on a sign on the wall. Clem fretted over how this would be paid as the doctor's surgery would surely cost them their fifty-dollar bill, and then there would not be enough money left for them to pay for the train ride back to Twin Forks, two tickets. Clem had no idea how they would earn money in St. Louis and earning the kind of money it took to buy train tickets anyway would take them weeks or more. By now, in the event that Ma hadn't heard about their boarding the train she would be powerful worried, and likely even more powerfully mad. It had already been two days that their chores hadn't been done, and now with the overnight stay a guaranteed third. Clem figured glumly that the two dumb goats and the five dumb pigs were probably making a bunch of ruckus about it that Ma had to bear.

The large communal room was noisy all the time and neither boy slept much. Patients were moaning, sometimes screaming or hollering out. Many, when they could fall asleep, snored loudly, like Pa. And there were always lights on too: dimmed some at night but still bright enough for the nurses to move around. Sleeping in a chair didn't work too well so Clem had taken Terrence's sac and a blanket and made a pallet on the floor beside Terrence's cot, between it and the wall so he wasn't really in anyone's way. This way he could keep an eye on his brother and make sure he didn't pull at the bandage, or sewing stitches that held together the hole that Clem had let the doctor put into his little brother's head.

"Ain't bleedin' none no more," Clem told Terrence the next morning after gently lifting the bandages aside anyway to have a quick look. "The doc stitched ya up real good. Jest pro'lly have a scar under yer hair when it grows back. Won't even be able ta see it."

"Like them's with Pa?" Terrence had been fascinated with the several scars Pa bore which too were supposed to be hidden once his hair grew back but in Pa's case they were too big and never quite were.

"Nah, Terrence. Ya jest got ya a little one. Maybe about like the size 'a the tip 'a my little finger, maybe. Ain't like Pa's. Pa got all cut up."

Terrence considered this by looking at his own little finger. Heck, he got cuts bigger than that practically every day. He seemed a little disappointed that it wouldn't show like Pa's. Clem was once again surprised not to see Terrence's lip droop as it normally did whenever he was thinking about something real hard.

"Reckon' I'll be able to run faster? Fer at baseball? Hey Clem!"

"I hope it. Now tell me, private here before the doc comes back 'round, can ya I don't know, hear me any better?" Terrence looked at him queer but Clem asked: "I dunno, can ya remember anything what's different?"

"Differen'? Like, 'memberin' what?"

A nurse came over as Clem was getting flustered, worried that they had just wasted their life savings on his brother who was never going to have a normal leg and wasn't any different in his rung head. The nurse again asked Terrence how he was feeling, had a quick look under the bandage herself and then declared him fit to go. She told them to go back to Doctor Smithson's office, the first doc they'd seen, and pointed the way.

"Well, let's have a quick look at you," Doctor Smithson had Terrence sitting on the edge of a table. He took his rounded mirror and looked in both of Terrence's eyes then his ears and then into his mouth before a quick glance under the bandage. "I'm going to have Myra put on a lighter bandage. Then have you come back in three days so we can remove the sutures."

"The sewin'?" Terrence asked. Doctor Smithson smiled.

Clem began to gulp. "Uh, sir, we was gonna go back on the train today, still, if we could. If we have the money left fer the two tickets."

"Oh, that's right. You said that you don't live around here. Well, I'm sure your local doctor can remove them for you. See Myra about paying your charges. Good day, gentlemen." Doctor Smithson strode off and after a moment the nurse, Myra, reappeared. She motioned them over to a desk where she sat and had some more papers. Clem already had the fifty-dollar bill carefully on-hand, in his front pocket and liked being referred to that way by the big city doc.

"The charges, for the hospital, are eleven dollars, twenty cents..."

Wait, what? This was too good to be true…

But, then she went on: "…for Doctor Smithson, the charges are six dollars…" Still…six plus eleven…

"…and, for Doctor Wells, his examination fees total twelve dollars…"

Clem was adding best that he could so quickly. Eleven, plus six, plus twelve…

"…and for Doctor Well's surgical procedure the charge is forty-five dollars."

Clem sagged, the knowing without arriving at the exact amount that they were woefully short. Nurse Myra wrote something quickly then looked up at the boys who were standing side-by-side. Even Terrence seemed attentive. She kept on talking smoothly. "Now, if you're indigent," she could tell by their puzzled expressions that they didn't know the word. "Indigent. Poor. It means that you don't have much money…"

"Uh, no Ma'am. We got some money," Clem rocked on his heels then quickly remembered the math. "Problem is we got us a fifty-dollars and maybe a little some more but we still gotta git tickets back to Twin Forks on the train. 'An some more food to eat too, 'fore we get back ta our farm."

"I'm hungry." Terrence agreed, always hungry it seemed unless he just et.

Myra thought for a moment. "Well, I need to go speak with the doctors. I'll be right back." She strode off.

"S'matter Clem?" Terrence turned to face him.

Clem sighed heavily. "Well, see, all-tole, well, paying both them docs is more'n what we got. With the fifty-dollars. More than the fifty-dollars."

"I could give m' two half-a-dollars?"

"Yeah. Yeah ya could, 'cept they's back in the tin at home, 'member? And it still ain't enough to add 'em all up."

"Wha's gonna happen? Ain't m' leg gonna stay fixed up?"

"Terrence, I done told ya, yer leg fixin's gonna take some time to fix. And, thing is, Ma needs us back but I'm figurin' we might need to stay on here, stay on in St. Louis so that we kin work 'n pay our earning to the docs." Clem looked down and said mostly to himself: "'Cept, then, what about Ma 'n Pa."

Terrence nodded his head solemnly too. He seemed to understand. He wiped his nose on his shirtsleeve. Truth was, he missed Ma and he missed Pa, missed sitting up in the barn window, missed sleeping in his own bed and looking out the window at the sky at night, smelling all of the sweet, familiar farm smells while he tried to stay awake and talk to Clem before always falling asleep too soon. Even though he often complained about it he guessed he missed looking after the goats and pigs too. But not chores involving peaches, or baling hay. He sure didn't miss those. "How many long would we have to stay?"

"Until we could earn up at least maybe five dollars savings, I Reckon'," Clem could not hide the somber nature of the report. They both knew that meant being out away from Twin Forks for a long time.

Both boys looked at the floor and waited for the Myra to return with the bad news.

Nine

"Hey Clem! Lookit! That's where we was walkin'! Other day!" Terrence was pointing and had his face hanging out the window of the number thirteen streetcar. They were able to board after only walking for about ten minutes, and the man who took their nickels said they could get off right near to the trains. Clem figured even if it cost more than seven dollars total, like the train did, he still might have paid in order to avoid all of the time spent walking, but only one nickel each! How could this be? He was feeling real grown up, real proud.

Somehow, both of the doctors decided not to make them pay any money. Clem had no idea how this miracle occurred or why and was so light-headed from the switch from fear over having to stay in St. Louis for months, maybe longer, alone, to being sent on their way with a good part of their fortune still intact. Only the eleven dollars and twenty-two cents for the hospital and cot fees left his pocket. Sadly, the fifty-dollar bill itself was gone but nearly as suitable consolation there was one twenty-dollar bill which they had also never owned before. The twenty-dollar bill was carefully folded and inside one stocking but Clem carried the rest of the paper money and coins in his britches pocket, real careful. Terrence was excited about riding on the streetcar and pointing out everything as they were going much more slowly than while on the train and were stopping nearly every block. Clem was excited for the ride but also looking forward to getting back to Twin Forks, to Ma and to Pa, and even to the school. Ma might be sore but she sure wouldn't be when he handed her the twenty dollars deciding that the remainder would go back into the tin but twenty dollars was a lot of money for Ma too so maybe she wouldn't be too sore. Maybe he'd even take a dollar, no, two, and let Terrence buy candy, toys and marbles with it.

Clem looked at his brother and they exchanged a smile. He wondered if Ma would notice that Terrence's lip no longer drooped when Terrence was thinking real hard.