Barefoot Boy
Part 3
For, eschewing books and tasks,
Nature answers all he asks;
Hand in hand with her he walks,
Face to face with her he talks,
Part and parcel of her joy, --
Blessings on the barefoot boy!
~~~John Greenleaf Whittier
May, 1874
"Where we going, Papa?" Blair asked for the third time in five minutes as they headed down the boardwalk to their mystery destination.
"You'll see when we get there, Blair," Jim answered patiently with the same phrase he had twice before. He stifled back a chuckle at the bundle of nerves bounding at his side. Jim kept their pace brisk hoping it'd burn off some of the restless energy emanating from the little boy since they arrived in town late yesterday afternoon.
The rancher could understand the excitement. Birthdays came only once a year, and today, May 5th, Blair Sandburg Ellison would be turning nine.
Jim Ellison let his son's excitement infect him as well, but mostly he felt a profound sense of contentment. The rancher had ever since Christmas when he told Blair he'd adopted him. Jim knew to his dying day he'd never forget the joy filled expression on Blair's face when the fact that they were now legally father and son sunk in.
Not that everyday was all sunshine and roses. While not the spoiled child he'd found eleven months ago, Blair could still be a handful, leaving the new father feeling in way over his head. Why didn't children come with instruction books? Still, the rewarding times far outnumbered the trying ones when, occasionally, his pride and joy's actions required a swat on the bottom rather than a pat on the head. Raising a very inquisitive, active and spirited child to be also respectful, obedient and an upstanding citizen was a responsibility Jim Ellison took very seriously.
They arrived at the livery stable, the birthday boy still a bundle of hyperactivity.
"Blair, I'm just going to check on Sentry, and the wagon horses. Wait here, this won't take long."
Leaving the frustrated boy in the stable yard, Jim quickly retrieved his hidden surprise from the stablehand. Thanking the man for getting it ready, Jim led his son's birthday present out of the barn.
"Blair," Jim called his son away from whatever fascinating discovery he'd made by the water trough. Jim indulged in a wide grin at the puzzled look on Blair's face. He held a hand out and when the boy reached out to take it, Jim lay the reins he'd been holding across Blair's palm.
"Happy birthday, son."
Blair stood stunned for almost a full minute, looking from the small horse to his father and back again.
"For me?" The tentative question turned Jim's wide grin into a tender one.
"Well, the saddle used to be mine when I was about your age. The horse is a descendent from Justin Morgan himself. Ethan put a lot of stock in those tough little horses. So do I."
Jim had to take a step back to brace himself when Blair flung his arms around his father's waist. He returned the embrace, ruffling the curly head that pushed into his stomach. His wide smile returned when he heard a muffled, "Thank you, Papa." Jim bent down and bestowed a kiss on top of his son's head. True, not every day was sunshine and roses, but days like today diminished the memory of the difficult ones, putting it all into perspective.
Jim patted Blair gently on the back. "Come on, Little Bit. It's time for your first riding lesson."
With a trained, critical eye, Jim watched Blair ride around the corral, issuing occasional corrections and instructions. "Blair, give her more of her head...that's right, just lay the rein along her neck. Good!...Sit up straighter and more over her shoulders...That's the way, good job...Okay, son, bring her in."
The little bright bay colored Morgan mare, with dark brown mane and tail, white blaze from forehead to lip, and three white socked legs, nuzzled its nose into Blair's hand when he gave her a lump of sugar after their exercises.
"That was a good ride, Blair. She's almost as responsive as Sentry. You two seem to be getting a pretty good feel for each other." Jim let Blair bask in the praise before asking if he'd thought of a name for his new horse.
Blair patted the little mare's neck while looking deep in thought. Jim easily saw on the boy's expressive face when a choice had been made.
"What'd you decide on, Little Bit?"
"I like Ceylon."
The named surprised Jim since he expected something more along the lines of Flip or Boots.
"Where'd you get Ceylon from?"
"Don't you remember, Papa?" Blair incredulously asked. "Ceylon was one of the islands Cap'n Nemo visited in ‘Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.' That's where the pearl divers lived. She's a pearl of a horse, so her name's Ceylon."
"That's a fine name, Blair. We'd better get Ceylon stabled so you can get cleaned up before your party." Jim derailed the protests he saw mounting about any kind of bathing with, "I'm sure Miss Rhonda's going to want your help decorating your birthday cake. The sooner you're presentable, the sooner she can have her official batter and frosting taster."
Jim had never seen Blair more willing to bathe.
~~~
The screen door squeaked as Blair slowly maneuvered himself out to the back porch steps trying not to drop the plate holding a huge piece of chocolate cake he held in one hand or spill the very full glass of milk he held in the other. With a mild slam the screen shut behind him and he eased himself down to sit on the steps looking out over the backyard of the Pendergrast's. house He could hear the muffled noise of rowdy children coming from the house he'd escaped. Normally he'd be in the middle of the action, but for once being the center of attention left him feeling a bit overwhelmed. The relative quiet of the porch allowed him the break he needed to bring his mixed thoughts and emotions in some kind of order.
This was the first birthday party he ever remembered having. Oh, he'd attended plenty of other children's parties, but it always seemed like when his turn came, he and his mother were on their own. His mother would fix a cake and he'd get a present, but no party with lots of people singing Happy Birthday. It would be his special day to do whatever he wanted, just the two of them -- within reason. He remembered going to a circus for his sixth birthday and, from behind his mother's skirt, saw an elephant. The beast seemed as big as a house!
This day felt like an elephant had picked him up with his mammoth trunk and ran away with him! It was too much. First, Papa had given him a horse for his very own with a saddle and everything. Papa had sent all the way back to his family's farm for her. The fine-tooled, but worn, saddle had been his father's when he was a boy. Papa had let him ride her around the corral for an hour teaching him how to handle her.
That's how his birthday day began and it only got better. Miss Rhonda fixed all his favorite foods for lunch and made his birthday cake just the way he wanted. Besides the Pendergrast's four children, the Taggerts came with their brood of five and the Bank's where there as well. Each had a present for him. He got more toys in one day than he owned total! Everyone around the table sang Happy Birthday to him. It almost made him cry. He blew out the candles without making a wish, what more was there to wish for?, and got out of the room as soon as he could before he began bawling.
Blair took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before putting another large bite of cake in his mouth, the chocolatey confection melting on his tongue. He would plead with Miss Rhonda to give Papa the recipe, not that his father found time to make such extravagant desserts. Cobblers and crisps were the norm at the Ellison house. The boy took another mouth full of cake that was mostly frosting and grinned impishly. He'd find a way to get this cake again.
Swallowing the almost choking mouthful, Blair chased it down with several huge gulps of milk. Setting the glass down, something near the edge of his peripheral vision caught his eye. He turned to his left and softly gasped at the sight of a small dog a few feet away.
The creature seemed about the size of the Anderson's cocker spaniel, but looked nothing like it. This dog had wiry brown and white spotted fur, from what Blair could see of it through the dirt and mud caking its body. The little dog cocked its terrier-like face, its one white ear erect while the brown one rested at permanent half mast. Its big brown eyes set in irregular patches of more brown fur seemed happy and the hindquarters wiggled a little stump of a tail.
"Come here, boy. I won't hurt you," Blair cooed, trying to coax the animal closer. He held his cake filled fork out. "Here want some of this?"
The little dog did not hesitate at the invitation and began licking cake off the offered fork, its stumpy tail wagging its whole back end. Blair set the plate on the lowest step and scratched behind his new friend's loppy ear while the dog made quick work of the remaining cake.
"Like that, huh? You're sure cute. You got a family?"
"Blair? What're you doing out here, son? You're missing your party."
Blair looked over his shoulder at the sound of his father's concerned voice as the rancher, in his Sunday suit, opened the screen door to join him on the porch. The grimace that passed over his father's face didn't go unnoticed by the boy. Blair turned his head back, following the glare, to the little dog licking the cake plate clean. Uh oh.
"Papa, I --"
"A greedy little thing," His surprisingly calm father said, forestalling Blair's explanation. The
boy watched as Jim eyed the little creature critically. "But, cake will probably not set too well
on his belly. Best come inside, son, and let this little scamp get on home."
Papa picked up the plate, set the milk glass on top, and with his other arm pulled Blair up, moving him back toward the house. As the screen door closed with a bang, Blair looked back at the little dog sitting in the dirt wagging its tail before being guided back to the party. The boy knew now what he should have wished for when he had blown out his birthday candles.
~~~
James Ellison didn't release his son's shoulder until they were surrounded by the other children, begging Blair to let them play with his new toys. The rancher finally exhaled deeply when Blair seemed to be absorbed in planning a mock battle with his new tin soldiers. The little stray out back forgotten. Good.
Jim had been making inquiries around town about who's bitch was due to whelp or who had
recently. After the wolf pup near disaster, he'd stepped up his "thinking about it" on the dog
issue, not that he'd really reached a decision yet. He'd enjoyed many dogs in his youth, but
they had all been pure breed hunting dogs of known parentage. Not stray mutts. A dog that
could not be trusted around other animals was a liability. He'd not break his little boy's heart by
having to get rid of a dog because it caused injury to the stock, especially if it meant doing so by
putting the animal down.
His asking around town had turned up a couple possibilities of quality animals. The Meyer's had
a cow dog ready to whelp any time now, and the Simpson's bitch had given birth two weeks ago.
Jim shook his head. The Simpson's animal had reportedly attacked a couple of unannounced
visitors and stole chickens. He didn't want a dog with that blood in him. No, he'd wait to see
how the Meyer's litter looked and maybe then they'd get a pup. He'd think about it a bit more,
knowing a decision had better be made soon before the boy tried to name the chickens again.
After the party officially ended, the Pendergrasts won't hear of the Ellisons having supper at the
hotel. They stayed well into the night, talking long past the birthday boy's bedtime. Blair was
so deep in slumber, slumped in a wing-backed chair, that Jim couldn't even rouse him to say
goodnight to their hosts. Hoisting his sleeping son into his arms, Jim held the boy against his
chest with one arm, Blair's head resting snugly on Jim's shoulder, and juggled packages containing
Blair's presents in his other hand. Fully loaded down, Jim bade his old friend and his wife
goodnight before cautiously making his way across town to their hotel.
Jim climbed the hotel's stairs, mindful of the precious dead weight held in his arms. After a few minutes of juggling boy, packages and room key, he managed to get the door open and them all inside. Jim quickly set the boxes down so he could pull back the bedding on the nearest bed to gently lie his son down. Blair remained a rag doll while Jim removed the boy's Sunday suit until all that remained were his long johns and socks. Jim pulled the blankets back up over the boy and moved a few wild curls out of the way so he could kiss his son's forehead.
"Goodnight, Blair. Sweet dreams," he whispered to the softly snoring child.
Jim removed and folded his own clothing before getting into the other narrow bed. They'd had a big time this trip into town. Jim grinned, adjusting his pillow. They'd painted the town red.
~~~
The crisp morning air reddened Blair's cheeks while, under his father's guidance, he saddled his birthday present. Finally, with the cinch tight enough to meet the elder Ellison's approval, they were ready for the ride home. Blair led Ceylon out of the livery stable while his father finished harnessing the wagon horses, Brownie and Blaze. He smiled at the sight of the little dog he'd befriended the other day.
"Hey, there, fella. How are you this mornin'?" Blair tied his horse to a post and approached the dog slowly.
The little animal came right up to him, its rump in constant motion from its rapidly wagging stumpy tail. Sitting on the ground to pet the animal, Blair began to giggle when the stray began a thorough licking of the boy's face.
"Blair! Get out of the dirt, boy, and away from that mutt," his father bellowed, appearing above him with a stern frown.
Blair quickly rose, attempting to brush the dust and paw marks from his jacket and trousers. "Look, Papa. It's that same dog. I bet he doesn't have anyone to take care of him. He's real friendly. Can we take him home? Please."
Giving his father his most pleading look, Blair waited for an answer. He kept his pitiful look going even when his father's features began to soften, getting cocky would mean a definite no. The elder Ellison's face regained it's stern appearance, much to Blair's disappointment.
"No, son. We know nothing about this dog. It probably belongs to someone."
Looking down at the bedraggled creature at his feet, Blair frowned.
"Well, if he does then they're not taking very good care of him!" he pouted.
Jim took a deep breath and looked to the sky. Blair pouted more when his father's eyes returned to him more stern than before.
"Son, it's not our dog and we need to get on the road. I want to be home by midday. We have a lot to do when we get there."
"But, Papa, I want him!" Blair whined, catching himself before he stamped his foot, knowing that would only get him a sore bottom.
"That's enough, Blair. That dog stays here. I'm still—"
"Thinking about it," Blair mimicked his father's words in a peevish sulk. "I know."
"Are you sassing me, young man?"
The sternness in his father's countenance deflated Blair's tantrum instantly.
"No, sir," Blair said softly, head bowed, knowing he'd lost this battle of wills.
He looked up when he felt a familiar hand gently squeeze his shoulder.
"I know how much you want a dog, Little Bit. I just need to know more about an animal we bring into our home. Understand?"
"Yes, Papa," Blair said, although he really didn't.
"All right, mount up while I pay the stableman."
Blair watched his father go back into the barn. It's not fair!, he thought. Why can't I have this dog?
He looked down at the dirty, but happy little creature still sitting next to him, wagging its stumpy tail. Blair took out the biscuit he'd saved from breakfast and handed it to the dog.
"Good-bye," Blair whispered solemnly, petting the small furry head one last time. "I wish you were mine."
He saddled up just as his father drove the wagon out of the barn. Slowly, he brought Ceylon abreast of the wagon and they headed home.
~~~
They had stopped at a meadow to give the horses, and themselves, a break. After finishing an early lunch, Jim was ready to get back on the road.
"Blair, I'm going down to the creek to fill the canteens. Pack up the basket while I'm gone."
"Yes, Papa."
Blair began gathering the leftover food and putting it back in the basket Mrs. Pendergrast had
made them for the trip home. He took the basket to the back of the wagon when he stopped
stunned in his tracks. There by the back of the wagon sat the little spotted dog. Blair knelt
down instantly at the sight and began petting his little friend.
"How'd you get here, boy?" Blair giggled when the animal rolled over to have its belly rubbed. "I mean, girl."
Knowing his father would be back any minute, Blair tried to decide what to do. If his papa saw
the dog, he'd probably chase it off, or at least leave it behind again. He could hide the animal in
the bushes and hope it would follow. But what if it didn't? Hearing his father return, Blair made
his decision. He grabbed the little dog and put it behind the nearby shrubs with some leftover
food and put the basket in the wagon. He ran back to the picnic site to get the blanket just as Jim
came into sight.
"Not finished yet, Little Bit? Best get a move on, boy. We're burning daylight." Jim gave his pride and joy's hair a quick tousle, and his bottom a light swat to get him moving faster. They'd had a good time visiting, contention over the mutt excluded, but Jim always preferred the peacefulness of their valley to the bustle of Cascade.
While Jim inspected Brownie's harness straps, he paused as the sound of eating drew his attention toward some nearby bushes. Before he could look behind them a little dog came trotting out to sit at his feet.
"What the Sam Hill?" the rancher swore at the sight of the little mutt from town.
"Go on, get!" Jim raised his arms to shoo the animal away before Blair saw it, inciting another confrontation. The little dog scampered back into the bushes just as Blair brought the folded blanket to the wagon.
"I'm coming as fast as I can, Papa," Blair said, apologetically.
"Just shooing away a pest, Little Bit. I wasn't talking to you." Jim smiled to reassure the boy and was rewarded with a big grin back. "Mount up quick, Blair. We need to ride."
~~~
The rest of the trip home proceeded without incident. Blair periodically looked back down the road they had come and along the sides of the trail hoping to see his little friend. They arrived home by mid-afternoon with no tagalong in sight.
As soon as the arrived, the rancher wasted no time. There were chores to be done.
"Come on, Little Bit. Shake a leg. The chickens need to be fed, the garden needs weeding and the
kindling bin's empty. I'll muck the stalls and you can put in fresh straw. I want to show you
how to take care of Ceylon, too. Starting tomorrow morning, you'll be coming with me when I
go to feed the horses at sun up."
Blair barely stifled a groan at that news. "Yes, Papa."
"Go feed the chickens, then join me in the barn."
Blair grabbed a bucket of seed from the barn and headed for the chicken coop. He had almost finished flinging the feed around for the birds to scratch at when a familiar sight caught his attention.
He dropped the bucket and quickly closed the gate around the coop before hurrying over to the little dog sitting behind the cabin. Blair dropped down next to the bedraggled creature.
"You look tired, girl, but it's all right now. You made it." Blair crooned his words softly as he stroked the dirty matted fur. "You need a bath. Papa likes things clean. If you were, I'm sure he'd let you stay!"
"Blair!"
The boy's head snapped in the direction of the barn as he heard his name bellowed.
"I'm coming," he shouted back before dashing in the cabin. He returned to the little dog with a large hunk of bread.
"I gotta hide you so Papa doesn't see you before you get cleaned up."
Dog and bread in his arms, he raced to his fort of discarded boards by the stream and blocked the little creature in before high tailing it to the barn.
His father cast him a disapproving glance when he finally dashed through the barn door. "About time you got here, boy. Now pay attention." And the lecture and demonstration on proper care for his new horse's feeding and grooming began.
~~~
Jim patted the little horse's rump as Blair closed the stall door.
"You did real good, son. Ceylon is in very good hands."
His father's praise had the boy smiling from ear to ear.
"Can I go now, Papa?"
"Sure, son."
The words had barely left his mouth when Blair took off like a pack of wolves were after him.
Jim shouted at his son's back before the boy ran out the barn door. "Remember, chores first, play second!"
Blair's slight falter at the barn threshold, and low groan, were the only indications that the instructions had been heard. The rancher shook his head and chuckled as he returned to his own work.
~~~
Blair hastily filled the kindling bin and pulled the most noticeable weeds in the garden before
racing to his fort to retrieve his dog. On the way he pondered over names. Once you name
something, it became yours. That's what his mama said. By the time he reached the slapped
together wooden structure he had it.
He removed the barricade and took out the horse brush from under his shirt that he'd taken from the barn before kneeling down to rub the offered tummy.
"Hello, Nemo. Let's get you a bath."
~~~
Jim approached the cabin after finishing in the barn with a set jaw. Blair stood on the porch with a clean, little, spotted dog in his arms. The big, blue, pleading eyes almost did him in, but with great effort Jim stayed firm. There was more to consider here than just a little boy's wants. The boy's hope filled face fell a bit when Jim didn't return his smile.
"Where'd this dog come from, son?"
"She's the dog from town, Papa. She followed us home and I cleaned her up. Nemo's real nice, Papa. Please, please, Papa, can I keep her? I'll take real good care of her. Nemo won't be a burden at all."
Nemo? Thunderation, the boy'd already named the mutt. He felt himself soften a bit as two pairs of soulful eyes stared up at him.
"Nemo's only a little dog, she won't eat much and I'll brush her and clean up after her and --"
Jim gently took Nemo from Blair's arms. The rancher held her and stroked her smooth fur absently while watching his anguished son shift from foot to foot.
"Blair, when did you find her?" The warning in the voice clear.
"When I fed the chickens...I hid her in my fort."
"Let's see if I have this right. You find the dog I said we couldn't keep, hide it from me so you can clean her up, hoping I'd like her and change my mind. That about it?"
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, but Nemo's really a good dog, Papa...and she's clean, too."
"I can see that, son. She's also a brave little dog for making such a trip." Jim looked down at the dog cradled in his arms and frowned watching the little dog lick its paws.
"What's wrong there, girl?" he spoke softly, taking one of the licked paws in his hand to examine. His frown deepened at the sight of several deep cracks. After a quick examination of the remaining paws, Jim took the animal into the cabin, Blair close on his heels.
"Blair, run to the barn and bring back the salve I use on the horses." He didn't have to add an admonishment to hurry, the boy all but flew out the door.
"Don't worry, Nemo. We'll get you fixed up." Jim scratched behind the floppy ear as the spotted dog licked his chin. Jim's hand glided over the soft spotted fur, letting the big brown eyes, set in a very cute face, turn him to mush. He made a quick inspection of her skin while waiting for Blair to return. She'd better be vermin free. He didn't want fleas or ticks in his home.
Blair quickly returned from his errand and soon they had Nemo ensconced on an old horse blanket in front of the fireplace. She lay in a ball, her bandaged paws beneath her, her new little master stroking her head.
"Papa, is she going to be all right?"
Jim sat down in the rocker next to Blair and their new dog. He reached out and tousled his boy's mop of curls before answering.
"Yes, Blair, she'll be just fine. Her paws aren't used to that amount of walking. She's real tuckered out, too. Give her a day or two and she'll be all right."
The radiant smile bestowed by the apple-of-his-eye made Jim's next words even harder, but they needed to be said.
"Blair, we need to talk about you hiding Nemo from me."
The smile left Blair's face at the stern statement. "But would you've let her stay if I didn't get her cleaned up?"
Jim pulled the boy to stand in front of him, holding him by the arms as he lectured.
"No, I probably wouldn't let her stay, but not for that reason. Even so, I would have been wrong. But, that doesn't make it right for you to hide things from me. I'm responsible not just for you, but for everything that effects our home. I need your help and that includes your honesty. Do you understand, Blair?"
"Yes, Papa." Blair nodded his head solemnly. "I won't do it again."
"I believe you. You can think about what you should have done while you're mucking out all the stalls yourself tomorrow. Also, I'll try to listen to your side of the picture more. I may still disagree, and that may be a mistake, but I'm the head of the house. Let it be me who's wrong and not you. You'll stay out of trouble more often that way. Got it?"
"Got it." Blair replied before Jim enfolded his repentant son into a forgiving embrace.
The end, for now.