This story was written as a challenge, the first line was given. Thanks, FaustBZ for the betareading.
The Stagecoach Robbery
"You better not never tell nobody but God. Or better, tell it the devil himself because I'm gonna send you straight to hell!"
I sat in my room preparing for the university entry exams when I heard my seven year old brother exclaim that sentence. Hurrying to the stairs, I heard my other brother squeaking in his faintest voice, "Mercy, Mister, we sure never ever gonna tell the sheriff. Don't kill me and my poor husband".
"Hoss, Joe, what are you doing?" I looked down from the landing. "You know better than to use those words, don't you?"
"But Adam I'm a villain. Villains say things like that. They say even dam—"
"Joe, don't!"
"Ah, Adam, you're a spoilsport!"
"No, I'm not. I´m only the one in charge while Pa´s in town."
"But you are one!" my brothers chorused.
I chose to ignore that. "What are you playing anyway?"
"A stagecoach robbery! I'm the robber and Hoss is all the passengers."
That explained why Little Joe wore his bandana wound around his lower face and Hoss his draped around his head.
"Please, Adam, can't you play the good guy? That role was made just for you!" Little Joe flashed me his biggest smile.
Oh, I saw the catch. I wouldn't be outsmarted by a seven year old but I couldn't resist.
"All right. Where is the stagecoach?"
"Over there, the settee."
I wasn't satisfied with the prop at all. I –an engineer-to-be— would not accept that for a pretended stagecoach. I surveyed the room. Ah. Yes, that would be better.
"I gotta real fine coach for us," I said, grabbing the Indian carpets from the banister. I draped them on the table securing them with a chair. Indeed, much better. Now was only a blanket missing to indicate the front...and voila, it was done.
"Hoss, you sit beneath the table. And you come in from the kitchen, Little Joe. I'm the stagecoach driver and sit on the chair on the table. Later I'll be the rescuer. The driver…wears a cape: the tablecloth."
"Wow, Adam, that's a mighty fine coach! Playing with you is much more fun!"
Hoss crouched under the table, Joe went into the kitchen, and I climbed onto my chair.
Being praised makes you proud, so I gave everything: enacted the stagecoach driver and six horses, flicking and whinnying and all. It must have been the intense performance that made me miss the door being opened. Only when they stood right in front of me I noticed Pa and the other man.
Pa looked close to faint as he uttered his disbelieving, "Adam?"
I, however, was focused on the distinguished older man with his gray, well trimmed beard, carrying all those books; and I knew within a second who he would have been: the new Latin tutor Pa hired for me. "Would" being the crucial word here, because never I saw him again.
I'd have been ever so glad if "nobody never told nothing" about that story "to nobody but God". But my invisible brothers' giggling and my father's yell of anger told me that wouldn't happen.
