Books : Red Dog : Excerpts

Adam looked at his mother, then at Sam. His stomach was all tied in knots. He tried to stop the tears from coming, but he couldn't. That was the worst thing of all -- having Sam and Mother see him crying like a little kid. And when he could stand the embarrassment no longer -- when he felt like he was going to burst wide open if they kept looking at him -- he turned and ran toward the mountains behind the cabin.

Like he expected, no one called after him and ordered -- or begged -- him to come back.

"They don't care," he cried inside. "They just don't care about me." It seemed like everything he had ever loved was gone now. His father was dead, but the memory of him still lingered. That seemed to make the hurting worse. Sam and Mother had taken him away from all the people and places he knew and brought him out here where there were no friends to play with, no warm streams to swim in.

And now they had taken the last thing in the world that was really his. They'd taken his big, clumsy red pup.

Adam didn't know how long he'd been gone, but it seemed like most of the day. He hoped he'd been away long enough for Mother and Sam to get good and worried about him. He hoped they'd start getting that some wild animal had got him or that he'd run away for good and was never coming back.

"That would serve them right," be thought, smiling to himself as he started home. `'After same' them like I did, they'll start being nicer to me, 'cause they won't want me to do it again."

The sky was still filled with light, although the sun had long since dropped behind the high peaks that surrounded the Whiskey Basin.

Adam didn't know what to expect when he walked around the side of the house. But when he noticed no one was outside, he smiled to himself again, figuring they were all out searching for him and scared to death.

Then he sniffed the air and frowned.

The smell of fresh bread filled his nose. He glanced up and saw the smoke pouring from the rock chimney over the fireplace.

A sound came from the barn. He stared into the half-darkened opening and saw Sam busy at stretching and tanning the hides they had brought back.

All of a sudden he felt his mouth open and his shoulders go slack. "They aren't worried about me at all," he thought. "Mother's bakin'' bread, just like she always does, and instead of combing the woods for me, Sam's messin'' with his pelts."

Feeling half numb and downright confused, Adam flopped down on the porch. He scratched his head, trying to figure out why no one seemed worried.

The sound of someone opening the door startled him. He jumped to his feet.

Mother ignored him. She cupped her hands towards the barn.

"Supper's ready. Can you come?"

"Be right there," Sam called back.

Then she looked down at Adam, like she expected to see him there the minute she came out.

"Go wash up and come eat."

And that's all she said. She turned and walked back inside the house.

Adam got to his feet. Finally, he made up his mind that he wouldn't go in. He'd make Mother come and ask him to come eat. Only, after being out in the woods all day and not eating since breakfast, the scent of fresh bread and the venison steak roasting over a pine fire was too much. Adam decided to wash his hands and go eat.

"I'll find out why they're acting so funny afterward ward," Adam thought.

Supper was kind of quiet. Sam and Mother talked, mostly about the weather, and wondered if the corn was getting enough water -- stuff like that. Laurie kept asking why they called the trees pees, and where the rocks came from, and why grass was green instead of yellow, and a whole bunch of other stupid questions that little kids always ask. But Adam made it a point not to say a word.

He got by with giving Mother and Sam the "silent treatment" -- that is, until they were just about finished eating. Mother passed him the bread and smiled.

"You over your little temper fit now?" she asked.

Adam bit down on his lip and didn't answer.

Mother scooted her end of the wood bench back and picked up her and Sam's plates.

"Well, Adam?"

Still, he didn't answer.

Mother sighed and shook her head. She turned to lay the dishes by the wash pan. Adam could tell she was crying. He could tell by the way her head was all ducked over and the way her shoulders kept jerking every once in a while.

But still he didn't say anything. He didn't like to see Mother cry. It hurt him inside when she did. But to his way of thinking, she deserved it. If it hadn't been for the way she treated him this afternoon, things would be all right. It wasn't his fault.

"Son, why don't you answer your mom?" Sam whispered beside him.

"I'm not your son," he sneered.

Sam stiffened in his chair. His big arms seemed to tighten up, and so did the lines in his face.

"All right, boy," he sneered back at Adam. "Why don't you answer your mother?"

"I'm not a boy, either," Adam snapped. "Why don't you leave me -- "

"If you ain't a boy, then quit acting like one," Sam growled back at him.

Adam jerked in his chair. Sam had never talked to him like that, not in that tone of voice. Still, Adam was determined not to buckle down. He got up from the table and started toward the door.

"Sit down," Sam ordered in a deep voice.

Adam hesitated. Then he marched straight out the door. Behind him, he could hear his mother crying. Then, all of a sudden, he heard the banging sound of a chair flying across the room and Sam's big voice: "I've had enough, Louise! I've treated him with nothing but kindness and respect, but he ain't growed-up enough to understand that. I'll take no more from him."

"Now, Sam," Mother's voice pleaded. "Don't lose your temper. Don't do something you'll be sorry for."

"I won't," Sam said. "1 want to be a father to that boy. But whether I'm a father or not, you're still his mother, and I won't have him treatin' you the way he has. I want him to like me, but I'm at the point now where I don't care anymore. I do know one thing. As long as he lives in this house, he'll treat his mother with respect."

"Sam...please..."

"Stay out of it, Louise," he roared at her.

Adam had been listening with his ear against the front door of the cabin. When Sam came roaring out, the door slammed against the side of his head and sent him flying back. He landed, sprawling, in the middle of the yard.

He got to his feet, still confused and wondering what was happening, when Sam grabbed him by the back of the neck.

"Sorry, boy. Didn't know you was standing that close to the door."

But the way Sam yanked him around and pinched down on the back of his neck didn't make him seem like he was sorry at all. Adam's feet barely touched the ground as Sam hauled him toward the barn. He didn't have time to fuss or argue. He didn't think to hit or kick with his feet. He just went along real peacefullike, hoping Sam would let some of the pressure off his neck.

An old tree stood just beside the west edge of the barn. Sam, still holding Adam, marched to it and pulled off a small, limber switch.

"I been wanting you to be a son to me," Sam said. "Only, I haven't been treatin' you like I would my own son. Reckon part of the way you been acting is my fault."

Sam marched him to the front of the barn and shoved the door open with his foot. "If you was a son of mine, I woulda done this long ago. I just reckon I give you too much credit for bein' growed-up."

Still holding Adam by the back of the neck, Sam put the switch under his arm and started stripping the leaves and small twigs from it. Then he loosened his hold on Adam's neck.

"You reckon you're man enough to take your come-uppance?"

It wasn't until right that very second that Adam figured out what Sam was up to. He never figured that Sam would try to give him a licking. And when he saw what was coming, it downright startled him.

He set up a fuss that could have shaken the bears out of a winter's sleep. Panic started his arms slinging and his feet kicking to get free. He commenced yelling at the top of his lungs, squealing like a little baby.

Only, he didn't have much time to make a fool out of himself. Sam tightened up on his neck again and bent him clean over. The switch popped across his seat.

"You been askin' for this." Sam spoke softly. "I figure it's time I give it to you."

He whopped again.

Adam wanted to be brave, but everything had taken him by surprise. If he'd been given a little warning, he might have done a better job of acting tough. But with that switch whistling down on his seat...

Well, he could only squeal and sort of dance around, all bent over.

Finally, Sam let go of him. Adam fell down in a stack of hay by the wall. His seat stung so much, he couldn't even rub it. So he just lay there, feeling the sticky hay on his wet face, and cried.

"I know I ain't your father," Sam said from behind him. "I can't take your dad's place, and I ain't never tried to. All I ever wanted from you was to be liked. But whether you like me or hate me, that don't matter. I do know that you ain't gonna keep your mother torn up all the time. Ain't gonna make her cry and feel bad when she only wants you to do what's right. If you do, I'll bust your butt like this, every time."

He slung the switch down and stood there, silent for a time. Then he turned and started away.

"One other thing." He stopped. "I'll make it a special point never to call you son again. But as long as you keep acting like a boy, I'm gonna call you boy."

All of a sudden his voice seemed to get real tight, like he was going to cry.

"I reckon I love your mother more than anything else in this world. And you being her children, I reckon I love you and your sister, too. Only, it's time you stopped acting like a little brat and started to grow up some. I got business in Cheyenne 'fore too long, and I can't leave a boy to look after your mom and sister. They need a man not a baby."

He left then, moving on heavy feet. Adam buried his head in the straw and had himself a good cry.

He knew he wasn't crying so much from the busting Sam had given him. He was crying more over what Sam had said.

Sure, getting spanked with a hickory switch hurt. But the way Sam talked to him hurt even worse All the things he said were true. He had been acting like a little kid instead of a man. And realizing that made him hurt down deep inside instead of just on his seat.