The Box M Gang

Chapter 1

W

hen I found Pa lying on the stable floor one morning, I knew he was dead before I rolled him over. Doc Greenwood had told us almost a year ago that something was wrong with Pa’s heart. Pa hadn’t looked or acted sick, so we had reckoned the problem must not have been too serious. Sitting with my back against one of the stalls, I began planning what to do next.

I reckon most folks believe that a fifteen-year-old girl ought to cry when one of her parents dies, and I did cry when Ma passed. In fact, I couldn’t stop crying. Two years later I still cried whenever I thought about her.

But as I sat there looking at Pa, I felt no sadness; I shed no tears. I had loved him because he was my father. I had never liked him. Pa had been a hard man. He had driven Ma and his five children instead of leading us. There had been no tenderness in him toward any of us. Ma told me once that fighting in the war had changed him, but I always reckoned she had just been trying to justify his behavior.

He’s dead, ain’t he, Ruth?

I jumped at the sound of Thad’s voice. He had entered the stable silently, walking the way Pa had taught him. He had paused just inside the door, but then he glided to the stall and sat beside me. He put his arm around my shoulders, and neither of us spoke for a while. Finally, Thad broke the silence.

I reckon you should tell the young’uns, he said. I always smiled when Thad referred to our younger sister and two brothers as the young’uns because they weren’t much younger than the two of us. We don’t want them coming out here and seeing Pa like this. I’ll dig a grave beside Ma’s.

Maybe you should come to the house with me before you do any digging, I said. Let’s tell the others together. I reckon we need to talk about a few things.

Thad gave me a curious look, but he helped me to my feet and followed me to the house. Although I was a year older than Thad, I had never tried to boss him around. We had always been friends.

The five of us gathered around the large oak table in the kitchen. Billy and Bart sat across from me. Where’s the grub? asked Billy. I’m hungry. I smiled. Like most eight-year-old boys, Billy was always hungry. I reckon that was why he was nearly as big as Bart, who was two years older.

Where’s Pa? asked Bart.

He went to the stable, said Sarah. At twelve, she was often mistaken for my twin or even—to her delight—my older sister. I’ll tell him to wash and come to breakfast. She pushed her chair back and started toward the door.

Wait! I said. Sarah looked over her shoulder at me but kept walking.

Why? she asked. Glancing at the stove, she grinned. Well, I declare, Ruthie Martin! You haven’t prepared our breakfast yet! What have you been doing that was so important that you neglected your duties? Pa isn’t going to be happy about this when I—

Sit down, Sarah! I said.

You’re not the boss of me! she said. Sarah opened the door.

Pa’s not coming to breakfast, I said, today or ever again.

Sarah closed the door, tip-toed back to the table, and sat beside me. Staring at the table, she reached to take my hand. What do you mean? she whispered.

Did Pa run away? Billy asked.

Last year Johnny Davis ran away to join the army, said Bart.

Did Pa run away to join the army? Billy asked.

No, I said, Pa died. Then, not because of losing Pa, but because of the hurt I saw in those three faces, I cried.

Billy and Bart cried too; but Thad and Sarah just sat, staring at the table. Nobody spoke for a while.

Billy had leaned forward on the table and buried his face in his arms. He startled the rest of us when he sat up and wailed, We’re orphans! The sheriff’s going to take us to the orphan house!

Getting Billy to settle down took some time. Thad built a fire in the stove, and I made us some flapjacks for breakfast. As I worked, I planned.

We ate in silence. When everyone but Billy had finished, I began to share my plan.

If we all work together, I said, I think we can stay here instead of going to the orphanage.

Billy’s right, Sarah said. As soon as folks find out Pa’s dead, the sheriff will come out here with a buckboard and haul us to the orphanage.

Billy started wailing again. We’re going to the orphan house!

After we had settled Billy down for the second time, I started over. If we all work together, I said, I think we can stay here.

We can’t stay here now that Pa’s gone, Thad said. Sarah’s right; as soon as folks find out, the sheriff will come for us.

Billy opened his mouth and covered his eyes.

Stop, Billy! I said. Don’t you start fussing again until you hear me out. I looked around the table at what was left of my family.

"Sarah is right; once the town folks find out that Pa’s gone, they’ll want to put us in the orphanage. That’s why we’re going to make sure they don’t find out."

Four mouths dropped open. I couldn’t keep from smiling just a little.

Think about it, I said. "Pa doesn’t have to be alive to keep us out of the orphanage; folks just have to think he’s alive. If we work together, we can keep this place going without him."

I looked at Thad. To start with, I said, we need to bury Pa where no one will see his grave. Burying him next to Ma would spill the beans.

Billy whimpered, Beans is all they feed them orphans at the orphan house.

Bart, you and Billy get dressed, and tend to the livestock, I said. Sarah, clear the table, and wash the dishes. Give Thad and me an hour, and then bring the boys to that stand of cottonwoods by the swimming hole.

Sarah shoved her chair back and stood with her hands on her hips. She sneered and shook her head.

You are not the boss of me, she said. Just because Pa is gone—

Fine, I said. Just pack a carpet bag with whatever you want to take to the orphanage. We don’t want the sheriff to have to wait when he brings the buckboard to haul us away.

I pushed my chair in, turned, and walked toward the door. With my hand on the latch, I said, Thad, if we’re going to the orphanage, we don’t need to hide Pa’s grave. I reckon we can just bury him beside Ma and save ourselves some trouble.

No, wait! Sarah said. I’m sorry! I’ll clear the table and wash the dishes. You and Thad bury Pa near the cottonwoods.

When I turned to look at Sarah, she was pale; and her hands were clasped in front of her. I smiled and nodded at her.

Thank you, Sarah, I said. I don’t know if we can get away with what we’re planning or not. I do know that our only hope will come through all of us working together.

I’ll hitch the roan to the wagon and get a couple shovels, Thad said. The cottonwoods are too far away for us to carry Pa.

I’m coming too, I said. Sarah, we’ll see you and the boys in about an hour. Please bring Ma’s Bible with you.

As I followed Thad outside and pulled the door closed behind me, the sun warmed my face. Birds were calling to each other, and a bee buzzed past my head. We neared the stable, and I smelled the familiar odors of our livestock. Everything around me seemed as it should be, but I shuddered. I had never been more afraid.

Chapter 2

B

y the time Sarah and the boys joined us under the cottonwoods near our spring-fed swimming hole, Thad and I had buried Pa. Both of us were panting and sweating as we leaned on our shovel handles.

Sarah handed Ma’s Bible to me. As we stood in a circle around the grave, the boys removed their hats; and Sarah bowed her head. I read Psalm 23, thinking more about how it applied to our lives than how it had anything to do with the way Pa had lived.

As we started back toward the house, Sarah took my hand. A few steps ahead of