The boy were a goddamn milksop; had all 'is teeth. He warn't sick. An' he was young. Ten, he said. Fifty dollars he'd cost! Fifty dollars fee plus fifty cent legal. Lost his real folk to a sickness, few years back in some bigger town; Lewiston, maybe. Or Bangor.
He warn't cut out to be a farmboy, but that's what Grover's folks'd planned for, when they bought him. And by God, that's what he'd be. They was farmin' folk. Always had been. Ma'd been a farmer's daughter, Pa'd growed up onna farm, they'd raised their boys t'farmin.' Never got eddycated. Warn't no need, inna farmin' life. Jest hadda know a little 'rithmetic, so's to count the tomater seeds an' such.
Little Nancy-boy didn't get near to finishing his chores the first day, and he was cryin' and carryin' on when Pa lashed him to the table for a whuppin.' Ten years old! And never been whupped, cept'n he said at the schoolmaster's hand, if he were late, or if he were bad. Grover could hardly believe it.
He and Willie'd probably been whupped near 'bout a hundred times each by their Pa by time they were ten. Ten! Kids don't learn good without they git a good cowhidin' ever little while. Makes a body tougher. Fer all his Eddyca-shun, he had a lot to learn.
After lickin' the kid, Pa said to Grover and Willie, he said, "Boys, this 'ere orphan warn't raised right t'farmin.' Now y'all gotta help me learn 'im right, hear? Makes a body strong. Body ain't good fer this life, less'n he kin learn proper. An' 'e cain't, without he gits tanned ever little while. Helps t' keep a body humble. All 'is fancy eddy-cated ways hain't taught that. An' it hain't right. We don't want our little orphan puttin' on airs he's better'n us. Jest on counta he's lived inna city an' had schoolin.'"
"Right, Pa," Grover and Willie said in unison.
"Kin I learn 'im, Pa?" Willie added excitedly.
Grover nudged him, but Pa was already whallopin' Willie with 'is own hat. They'd outgrowed bein' whupped – they was too big.
"You cain't kill'im! Hain't I jest said? Hain't I jest geb'im a lickin'? We jest paid fifty dollars fer the little idget, 'n you wanna kill'im off? That's good money! Wanna run 'im off?"
"Sorry, Pa," Willie said loudly, fending off the cuffs. "I forgat."
"We'll lettim sleep. Yer Ma wants 'im t'kip under the porch, but not tonight. Lettim mend upstairs. Share that room'f your'n."
"Yessir, Pa, sorry, Pa," Willie said, and Grover said, too.
"We's can all use some shuteye," Pa said, and that was all he had t' say about it.
"What's 'is name? Pa? The kid?" Grover asked, afore Pa left.
"Pete Hampton."
–
They set them t'goin' upstairs fer some sleep, and afore climbin' the stairs, Grover listened fer the boy – Pete – 'cause after a body was tanned fer the first time, it set you to bein' in right misery.
He was inna corner, all hid behind a stack of muckin' boots 'n umbrellas what had holes inn'em. He was a scrawny thing. Ten! An' never worked no farm, never got no cowhidin.' What'd 'e learn? Nothin,' Grover'd wager.
"I'm awful s-sorry," Pete said, all sorrow. "Mr. Gogan musta b-been so sore at me. I d-didn't mean any harm." He was cryin' an' wipin' 'is nose innis hands.
"Aw, Christ. Pa done tanned you, Miss Nancy," Grover couldn't help hisself. Even 'is words was all proper an' fancy eddy-cated. It warn't natural. "You thank he'll git on in'ere 'n tan you 'gin? You hain't gotta set there 'n stay awake. Git to sleepin.'" Grover pointed up the stairs. He 'n Willie shared, but kid could sleep onn'a floor. Warn't no harm.
He waited a bit, but then Pete started t' climb outta the boots. "Am I…supposed to go up there?"
"Ma done said yer meant t'kip unnera porch. Jest not now. Best a body kin mend, after gittin' cowhided." Grover was tired. Iff'na dumb kid warn't gonna sleep, it suited him jest fine. He started a-climbin' th' stairs, but Pete followed, sure 'nuff.
"Cow…hided?" he said, like it were a question.
"Tanned. Licked. Whupped. Damn! All yer eddy-cashun, and you don't know nothin.'"
"My…my Ma wouldda fed me soap, for all that cussin,'" Pete said all quiet-like.
"An' that's why yer such a milksop," Grover went innis room, an' Pete stopped followin.'
"Is…is there a…a place for me?"
"Onna floor. Less'n you wanna share? Willie's younger. Y'all kin kip with him right nice," Grover kicked off 'is shoes 'n laid down onnis bed. Damn pantywaisted idget. Prob'ly thought he'd have 'is own room. Nancy.
Willie watched 'im from 'is bed, an' kid laid him onnis belly. He were prob'ly sore, a bit. Tender skin, never got no cowhidin.' Goddamn!
"G'night, um, Grover. An' Willie," he mumbled, puttin' 'is head innis arms. Prob'ly sayin' 'is prayers like a good Nancy boy.
–
They learned Petey good, in farmin.' He got so's he quit cryin' n' carryin' on after gettin' whupped, an' he were a quick 'un. He were faster 'n Grover 'r Willie at weedin' the rows of corn, 'n he stopped earnin' lickins after bouta month. 'Ceptin Willie. Willie still licked 'im. Willie liked havin' someone t'lick.
Pete sure liked it better, kipped under th' porch, an' all, anyhow.
But then Pete'd runned off.
It'd happened same afore, too. 'Bout six year ago. Ma'd found a orphan named Margaret Apsel, called her 'Peggy.' Learned her 'bout housekeepin' n' mindin'a chickens 'n all. Afore Willie got it in 'is head to help learn her 'bout this 'n that – he were 'bout her same age, Grover were older.
She runned, too. Runned off 'n told the menfolk inna orphanage but what she'd been mistreated, an' how Willie'd done a terrible awful thing 'n forced her. Ma'd whalloped on Willie, 'n he'd not denied it; said he mighta done.
Sure'n when they couldn't find Pete, Ma 'n Pa were whallopin' on Willie agin, 'n he were mighty sore about it, sayin' he hain'ta done nothin.' Grover warn't as sure. Willie'd been keen on learnin' Pete. Mebbe he'd learned 'im this 'n that, jest alike from when he'd learned 'em t' Peggy.
Grover 'membered him how Peggy'd bin all quiet-like. Pete was kinda that way, too. 'N God knew Willie warn't much fer conversatin' folk.
Well, the orphanage brought Pete back. Ma had her papers, what said Pete were theirs, 'cause of course that'd been a problem from afore; when Ma'd tried to ask Peggy back, 'n the po-lice set 'n carried on 'n on 'bout "But y'all cain't prove she's your'n. She hain't gotta go back with y'all."
Ma kept her bill of sale. She kept it on her, in her shirt, by her bosoms. Warn't a body gonna ever tell her what was hers 'n what warn't hers no more. Fifty dollars, he'd cost. Fifty dollars plus fifty cent legal. Their last fifty dollars, 'n they were workin' ever cent outta him.
–
Grover 'n Willie watched when Pa licked Pete – It were a real bad whuppin.' Pa were cross on 'counta havin' to git Pete's chores done and his own. He'd hadda hire a feller, 'n he were shoutin' how he'd take the extra dollar outta Pete's hide.
Willie liked it. He kepta askin' Pa iffin' he could learn Pete some, 'n Ma came 'n whalloped Willie.
Grover jest watched Pete. He'd bit on 'is lip, so's he wouldn't cry none, 'n carry on, and earn more lickin's. But he'd bit real hard, and Ma'd be jest as mad iff'n he bit it through 'n bled onna table.
When Pa were done, Grover went 'n untied Pete, jest so's Willie wouldn't get no ideas, 'n Pete were quiverin' 'n shiverin' 'n blubberin' but quiet.
Pa didn't notice. He was outta breath, from beatin' on Pete.
Ma said Pete couldn't sleep under the porch no more, else he'd run away agin, so he could kip with Willie 'n Grover, jest alike from when they'd first got Pete.
Willie was real happy 'bout that.
"Lettim mend, boys," Ma ordered, 'n Grover shoved Willie a bit. Willie shoved back.
Pa shoved Pete toward the stairs, 'n Pete set on 'em, 'n looked at Willie 'n Grover, 'n jest kep' quiverin,' not sayin' nothin.'
Grover went fer the stairs, too, 'n Pete scrambled up, lookin' miserable 'n sore. "Please let me be," he said, all sad 'n pitiful, goin' backwards up the stairs, not lettin' them near 'is tender backside. "I don't wanna get in more trouble."
"We missed you, Petey," Willie said from behind Grover. "We was gonna play a game a'Tug-o-War, but you warn't there, so we hain't hadda rope."
"Leave me alone, Willie." Pete had blood under his lip, where he gone 'n chewed it up. He was still kinda blubberin,' 'n Willie passed Grover onna stairs, catchin' Pete up 'n gittin' hold on 'is arm.
"That ain't nice, Petey," Willie pulled on Pete's arm, 'n Pete sorta stumbled 'n Willie clapped onnis back t' steady 'im, 'n boy did Pete scream.
"I hain't gonna have this nonsense 'a your'n!" Pa bellowed fromma kitchen, 'n Willie let go 'a Pete, 'n Pete squirmed up the rest 'a the stairs, 'n he couldn't even hide but how he'd been blubberin' no more, 'n he were onnis hands 'n knees, tryin'a do it all quiet-like, but it were still too loud.
"You cryin,' boy?"
Pa come up 'n whale on Pete some more, 'n Grover couldn'ta helped but feel bad fer the kid, all beated 'n then Pa come 'n geb 'im more cowhidin,' 'n Pete carryin' on, 'n Pa lickin' ever bit 'a Pete his belt could reach, 'n it warn't the fair tannin' side, it were the buckle end.
Pa shoved Willie 'n Grover 'n told 'em to git sleepin.' Then Pa went back down the stairs, 'n Willie was just smilin' 'n jest as excited as could be.
Grover pushed 'im to the door, 'n Willie pushed back, 'n they went in their room.
Pete came in after a bit, 'n he weren't breathin,' so's t' move quicker, but then he looked stumped: there warn't but the two beds, 'n damned if he'd ask t' share.
Grover set up, 'n went onna floor inna middle of the room. "Go on 'n sleep," he muttered, settling on his stomach 'n puttin' his head in his arms. "Otherwise it'll jest hurt like a sumvabitch inna mornin.' 'N I hain't gonna do mine and your'n fer chores."
Pete stood there, 'n it was all quiet, 'n Willie was pretendin' t' sleep, 'n Grover hisself was almost asleep, honest Injun, when he heard the bed groan, on 'counta Pete'd actually done it, finally.
–
It were dark, still, when Pa came in 'n waked 'em up. Willie were real hard to git movin,' 'n Pete were already awake. Mebbe he hain't slept. Grover thunk on it a bit, 'n knowin' Willie, he probably woulda stayed awake, too.
"I hain't got all day," Pa was hollerin.' "We're mighty behind on accounta you, Petey. You'd better make damn sure you do your work right."
"Yessir," Pete said, all quiet-like. He set up 'n pulled onnis shoes.
"Thanks, Grover. It was awful nice," Pete said inna whisper, after Pa went downstairs.
"I hain't gotta hear yer bellyachin, now, 'bout how sore y'feel," Grover muttered. Pete were still plenty sore. He warn't walkin' right, 'n he were all stiff. But he warn't wincin', and he warn't cryin' no more.
Pa was by th' horse-stalls, an' Grover came with Pete – it were Grover's job t' muck out th' stables. Pa hadda rope, an' 'e was tyin' and knottin' an' it hadda loop. Pa smiled at Pete.
"Cain't have you runnin' after you just got back, can we whelp?" Pa held up th'loop. "Hain't-a gonna get too far with this."
Pete stuck 'is foot inna rope, 'n Pa looked at Grover. "Y'all git th' north bit plowed. We's a-gonna plant late Taters."
Grover heared Pete trip, on 'counta Pa yankin' th' rope tighter round 'is foot, n' Pa kicked 'im.
"Muck 'em out. All of 'em. After, I'll relocate yeh. Weedin' the corn. And Tomaters. And the Squash. And the Pumpkins."
It had been set up that-a way on purpose. The stables stank t' high heaven, an' as the day got warmer, it'd only git worse. Then, when it was done, at the hottest part of the day, he'd go out to be scorched alive. He were meant t' finish, too. Even if he stayed out all day and night.
–
Night come, 'n it were harder. Pete looked terrible, an' Pa was still plenty sore at 'im fer runnin' off. Also, Pa'd weeded the Tomaters and Squash hisself on 'counta Pete bein' too licked 'n sore he hain't finished muckin' th' animal stalls afore th' weedin' hadda be done.
Willie'd hadda weed, too, but he were right pleased with hisself fer gittin' a punch in, an' Pete's nose warn't normal-shaped.
Pete hadda share rooms agin with Grover 'n Willie, and Grover warn't set to sleepin' onna floor ever night, he warn't that charitable.
Grover were almost asleep, 'n he saw Willie kippin' onna floor. Pete'd have to take Willie's bed, or else take the floor, too.
Grover waked up inna middlina night, on 'counta Willie carryin' on 'n moanin.' He were onna floor right by Grover's bed, 'n wailin,' 'n his face were all bloodied.
"Kid broked my goddamn nose," Willie moaned.
"What'ja do, Willie?" Grover said, all tired-like. It warn't no more'n he deserved, probly. "Gitta bed, ya milksoppin' idget! We gotta git up inna mornin,' 'n you carryin' on, Christ Almighty…"
Willie went, 'n Grover tried'a sleep agin.
He ignored the blubbin' underneath 'is bed, but Pa heard Willie 'n Pete carryin' on, and waked up.
–
Pete were licked so good, Ma hadda tell Pa it were 'nuff. Ma hadda fix Willie's nose, 'n Pa were yellin' 'bout how Pete haddit comin,' an' how ever doctor fee'd be tooked outta Pete's hide.
"There ain't gonna be a doctor, Merle," Ma said, loud 'nuff over Willie shoutin' when she touched 'is nose. "What's a doc gonna do? Bandage 'im?"
Grover didn't laugh at Willie. But he wanted to. Willie'd prob'ly broked Pete's nose, an' Pete'd jest broked Willie's back.
Pete were breathin' funny. Raspy 'n such.
"Git on, whelp. Afore I change my mind," Pa put 'is arm down, an' Pete crawled away, all shakin' 'n beated 'n bleedin.'
"Hain'tcha gonna tie 'im up, Pa?" Willie asked, grinnin.'
Pa licked Willie, then, an' Willie hollered an' carried on an' all. He were too old t' be whupped. It didn't stop Pa.
"Y'all been learnin' that boy t'death, hain't no wonder 'e licked you back! "Pa yelled. "Leave 'im be! Let 'im alone, y'hear?"
"Yessir, Pa, sorry Pa," Willie blubbed.
"Are you cryin,' boy?"
Grover went outside, set on findin' Pete. It weren't too hard. He hain't-a got far. He were kipped unner-a porch, cryin' by 'is lonesome.
"Mornin's Sunday," Grover said, 'n Pete quit breathin,' prob'ly so's t' hear better. "Ma says we gitta day'f rest."
"L-like….the B-B-Bible?" Pete said careful, wipin' 'is broked nose all gentle-like.
"Hell if I know. It don't always work, the restin.' On 'countta work needin' done."
"M-My Ma said you can't cuss about the Bible."
"An' that's why yer such a milksop."
He almost sorta smiled. Pete.
Grover went back inna house.
-o-
AUTHORS NOTE
I wrote this a bit ago; realized it is totes fanfiction, though...kinda dark, considering this is supposed to be this...happy, G-rated 1970s Disney movie and all...
Inspiration was drawn because I read Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn for the first time (that awkward moment you're 175 years late for a fandom...) and I fell absolutely in love with the way Huck's book was freaking WRITTEN ENTIRELY IN SOUTHERN DIALECT. It was torture! And I loved every minute!
But I couldn't write Huck. I couldn't do it. I'm still trying and all, but I haven't hit my stride with it, yet. But this just slipped right on out, quick as anything.
Like...I did etymology research to make sure my cussing and insults were appropriate to the time era of 1901. And I enjoyed it.
So...here! My pre-movie look at before Pete had a dragon. And my attempt to make Grover a semi-sympathetic character, because I didn't have a heart to make everyone be awful to poor Pete. He's been through enough without SOMEONE on his side.
Willie's the one with the hat. Just in case you were curious.
Review? I guess? I don't even know, man.
~Angeladex