GOING HOME

STILL ANOTHER PLEASANT VALLEY TALE

By William B. Grove

     As the old truck rattled out of Granddad's yard and passed the swinging bridge spanning Cherry Creek, I suddenly spied Jumbo in Grandma's gooseberry patch. The old mule hadn't been seen since Grandad dynamited the well six days ago. As the fuse was sizzling toward the bundle of dynamite Jumbo walked up and stuck his head over the edge of the well. The explosion and the flying rocks sent him off like a shot on a six day disappearing act! It made the close of my visit to Granddad's and Grandma's place complete to know Jumbo was safely back home.
     I sighed as I squeezed in between Bessie Cline and Vess Humel where they sat on the floor of the old flat bed truck. Alto and Phileta Cochran and Uncle Bruce had already found their places with their backs up against the wooden sideboards of the truck. Grandad and Grandma were in the cab of the truck with Lillian Margaret between them. Lillian Margaret was my aunt but only one year and nine months older than me.
     It was good to be going home to Phoenix but I was going to miss Pleasant Valley and all the summer fun at Granddad's. Folks in Pleasant Valley were more neighborly than in the city. For example, Granddad posted a notice in the post office inviting others who had a need to go to Phoenix to join us. That's how Pleasant Valley folks looked after each other.
     As the sun began to fade below the horizon, Bessie asked me to sing a song with her. As we passed Cagle's cabin nestled in the pines on Squaw Flats, Bessie's lovely voice joined with my boyish soprano as we sang:

"When it's nighttime in Nevada, I'm dreaming

Of the old days on the prairie with you.

I can see the great divide

And the trails we used to ride,

The only bit of Heaven I knew.

When it's nighttime in Nevada I'm dreaming

Of the old days on the prairie with you."

     Suddenly, rounding a curve, a shaft of moonlight reflected from an old rusted wood cook-stove at the side of the road. That's where Granddad and Grandma left it when the truck overturned on their move to Pleasant Valley. Lillian Margaret's cat, Weenie, terrified, had jumped out of the cab of the overturned truck and ran away never to be seen again.
     The notes of our song soared through the moonlit pines as we continued down the mountainous road. I couldn't be sure in the enveloping dusk, but I was almost positive that from beneath the old rusted stove, a pair of yellow eyes watched a familiar old rattletrap truck until it was slowly swallowed up in a cloud of dust.

Another Pleasant Valley Tale

Dinky Burro and the Cod Liver Oil

By

William B. Grove  

    Billy's flannel pajamas felt good as he pulled them on.  Standing next to the wood burning heater he felt toasty warm.  He turned and looked at his best friend, Dinky Burro.  Dinky Burro looked funny.  He had on flannel pajamas too.  The legs were too long and the sleeves hid his hands.  Billy didn't laugh.  Everyone always laughed at Dinky Burro.  He was the smallest, skinniest boy in the first grade.  He had geat big ears and feet, buck teeth, freckles and his hair stuck out in all directions. 

     Billy had heard old Mike, who ran the general store, once say, "Dinky Burro's the smallest, homeliest little wart in the whole school."  Billy thought that was mean of old Mike. 

     Dinky Burro had a real name.  It was Dean Webb.  But with his ears and teeth being like they were his Mama started calling him "Dinky Burro".  Now hardly anyone knew or ever used his real name.

     "Come on Dinkly Burro", Billy said.  "Let's go to bed".

     They started to the kitchen where their parents were sitting at the table playing cards.

     Dinky Burro, holding a pajama leg up in each hand, followed Billy.

     "Night Mama.  Night Daddy", Billy said, kissing both of his parents.

     "Night Mama. Night Daddy",  Dinky Burro echoed, kissing his parents.

     "Wait a minute son", Dinky Burro's mother said.  Reaching into her purse she took out a brown bottle.  "Mary, do you have a teaspoon I could use?"

     Billy's Mom reached for a spoon.  She gave it to Leola who poured some liquid into the spoon.  "Here, take your cod liver oil, honey.  It'll make you grow"

      Dinky Burro closed his eyes and opened his mouth as his Mom spooned in the cod liver oil.  He gagged, said nothing and started after Billy.

     "You boys go to sleep now and don't go rough housing out there on the back porch", Billy's Mom called after them.

     The parents watched the boys as they opened the door from the kitchen and stepped out onto the back porch, closing the door after them.

     "I don't think that child will ever grow an inch or gain an ounce", Dinky Burro's mother said.

     "Oh, now Leola, just give him time", replied her husband, Phil.

     "Well, the poor little tyke is so skinny I have to tie his pants on him with a coton string.  Can't find a belt to fit him.  He's so funny looking when he gets out of the bathtub.  Why, with those big feet and skinny legs he looks like two toothpicks stuck in a cow plop."

     "Oh, Leola, that's cruel", Billy's Mom said.

     "No, it's not.  I love him terribly but I know he's a homely little youngin' and I'm really glad Billy has taken a liking to him.  Dinky Burro doesn't have many friends, you know."

     As the boys stepped out on the back porch the winter chill hit them. The rest of the house was shut off from the back porch to save fuel. Stepping on the cold floor boards in their barefeet caused the two boys to race to the bed and burrow under the heavy quilts Billy's Grandma had made. The sheets were like ice but soon the heat of their bodies would warm them.
       While they lay there on their backs waiting for the sheets to warm, Billy asked Dinky Burro, "Is this the first time you've ever stayed away from home overnight?"
    "Yeah", Dinky Burro answered
    "Are you scared?", Billy asked.
    "No. Mom and Dad are right there in the kitchen", Dinky Burro said. 

"Well, I'm right here", Billy said.
"Yeah, I know." Dinky Burro said, turning on his side toward Billy.
"Do you get scared out here, Billy?, Dinky Burro asked.
"No", Billy responded, getting a whiff of the cod liver oil on Dinky Burro's breath. It was awful. Fishy! Stinky! Yuk!
"Whew, that cod liver oil smells awful. Don't breathe on me Dinky Burro".
"Okay", Dinky Burro said.
"What are we going to do tomorrow, Billy?"
Again, the smell of the cod liver oil caused Billy to turn on his side away from Dinky Burro.
"I don't know", Billy replied. "I might be sick tomorrow or something".
"You got a belly ache or somethin'?" Dinky Burro questioned.
"No, I just might be sick. Lots of times I get sick on Saturdays", Billy said slowly as Dinky Burro's breath reached him again.
Just then a loud "WHANG" came from the empty five gallon oil can sitting at the other end of the porch as it contracted from the cold.
"What's that?" Dinky Burro whispered, sitting straight up in bed.
"WHANG." The oil can popped again.
"It's Indians", Billy said quietly.
"Where?" asked Dinky Burro.
"Up on Tater Butte", Billy said very quietly.
"What are they doing?" Dinky Burro asked, his voice trembling.
"They're beating their drums. That's what you heard. They're getting ready to attack," Billy said. "Quick, pull the covers over your head!"Dinky Burro jumped out of bed and ran pell-mell to the door, bursting through to the kitchen and slamming the door behind him.
Billy pulled the covers over his head, giggled for awhile and then lay quietly, listening. He knew his mother or father would come out to the porch as soon as Dinky Burro told what had happened. He began to feel badly. Dinky Burro WAS his best friend. It was kind of lonely on the back porch now while Dinky Burro and everyone else was in the warm kitchen.
The door opened. Billy's Mom and Dinky Burro approached the bed. "Get under the covers, Dinky Burro", she said.
Dinky, quickly and quietly, slid under the quilts next to Billy.
"Billy, we've explained to Dinky that there are no Indians and I don't want you scaring him ever again."
"Ah, Mom, you don't know how awful that cod liver oil smells," Billy whimpered.
"So that's it" she said. "Just a minute", and she headed toward the kitchen.
Returning shortly, she said, "This will solve the problem. Here, sit up, Billy, and open your mouth."
Billy cried out, "Ah, no Mom. Not cod liver oil!"
"Yes, cod liver oil", she said, spooning it into his mouth.
"Now you won't notice it on Dinky"s breath.
"Good night boys and sweet dreams".
"Night, Billy", Dinky Burro said, after all was quiet again.
His breath floated around Billy's head. Sure enough, Billy couldn't smell the cod liver oil anymore. He turned on his side toward Dinky Burro and said, "Goodnight, Dinky Burro." He felt warm and comfortable. It was a good feeling to have a best friend again.