The Great Brain (11 page)

“Friends?” Sammy asked.

“Friends,” Basil said as they shook hands.

Sammy must have guessed his defeat was the result of my brother’s great brain. “I’ll bet you could lick any kid in town in a rough and tumble fight,” he said to Basil, but the words were meant for my brother. “I’ll bet you could even whip Tom.”

“You can’t get me to fight him rough and tumble,” Tom said, grinning.

“Me only fight to show me no cry baby or Mamma’s boy,” Basil said, which was quite a mouthful of English for him.

“Three cheers for Basil!” Tom shouted.

We all joined in three
hip hip hoorays
for Basil. Then we accompanied him to the hydrant in the corral where Tom stopped the nosebleed with cold packs on Basil’s neck. The black eye Sammy had given Basil was almost swollen shut by this time.

I went with Tom and Basil to the Palace Cafe. I was hoping Mrs. Kokovinis wouldn’t be in the kitchen, because Basil was a sight. I felt relieved as we entered the kitchen and saw only Mr. Kokovinis. He looked at Basil and shook his head.

“Another one,” he said sadly.

“He did it, Mr. Kokovinis!” Tom shouted as he pounded Basil on the back. “Basil whipped Sammy Leeds in a rough and tumble fight and whipped him good!”

Basil was so excited that he began to jabber in Greek as he described the fight to his father. Mr. Kokovinis looked so proud as he listened that I thought he would burst right out of his chef’s uniform.

“This is a proud and happy day for the Kokovinis family,” Mr. Kokovinis said as Basil finished describing the fight. Then he looked straight at Tom. “And we owe it all to you. Thank you.”

Tom’s face dropped the distance between a thank you and a dollar. Basil knew my brother well enough by this time to sense what was the matter. He spoke to his father in Greek.

“Of course,” Mr. Kokovinis said. “I was so happy I forgot.” He put his-hand into his pocket and took out a silver dollar which he handed to Tom. “I’ve been carrying this dollar in my pocket, hoping for the day I could give it to you,” he said. “It is very little for the happiness you have brought to me and my son.”

“Thank you. Mr. Kokovinis,” Tom said as he pocketed the dollar. “And to show you my heart is in the right place, I am going to teach Basil all the English I can before school starts in the fall. And I’m going to be Basil’s best friend.”

I thought Mr. Kokovinis was going to cry. And if he had known how much it was going to cost him for Tom being Basil’s best friend, he probably would have. Now that Tom had made Basil a genuine American kid like the rest of us, it made the Greek boy fair game for my brother’s great brain.

Right now, I thought to myself, I’ll bet Tom is trying to figure out how much to charge Mr. Kokovinis for each new English word he teaches Basil.

CHAPTER SIX

A Wreath for Abie

AUGUST CAME TO ADENVILLE, bringing with it the hottest weather of the year. The heat slowed everybody down. People walked a little slower. Our fathers began crowding us kids at the swimming hole to escape from the heat. Dogs became listless. My dog, Brownie, spent most of his time lying in the shade of a tree or under our back porch. I began to worry about Lady, who was expecting a litter of puppies. Tom had told me that it would take sixty-two days from the day Lady was mated with Brownie before the pups would be born. He assured me that the heat wouldn’t stop Lady from having the litter. As always The Great Brain was right. Lady gave birth to a litter of eight beautiful puppies the second week in August. I took Tom’s advice and decided to wait until three weeks after the puppies were weaned before taking my pick of the litter.

“They will be bigger then,” Tom had told me, “and not dependent on their mother, so I can judge them better.”

During the third week in August Abie Glassman fainted in front of the livery stable. He was carried inside by Mr. Tanner and some other men who revived him. Everybody blamed it on the heat.

Abie had earned himself a reputation for being a miser since opening his variety store. It began when he had removed the strong box from his peddler’s wagon and placed it in the living quarters of his store. It was a box made from wood with steel bands around it and had a big padlock on it. I guess Abie needed the strongbox when he was traveling around the outlying country and didn’t get near a bank only once or twice a year. Everybody who had seen Abie carrying the strongbox into his store had wondered what was in it.

It was just a couple of weeks after Abie opened his store that the rumor got around town the strongbox was filled with gold pieces. A man named Milton Tedford, who worked on the railroad as a brakeman, started the rumor. He had made a purchase in the store and had given Abie a twenty dollar gold piece. He told friends that Abie had gone into the living quarters to make change out of the strongbox. Abie had given Tedford a ten dollar, a five dollar, and a two-and-a-half dollar gold piece in change. As the story was repeated around town people became convinced that the strongbox was filled with gold pieces.

Uncle Mark was worried about the rumor. He told Abie there were always drifters in town who might hear about the strongbox and attempt to rob it. He tried to persuade Abie to put the money in the bank. Abie told Uncle Mark there was nothing to worry about.

Howard Kay was the first one to tell me Abie had a strongbox filled with gold pieces. He had heard his father telling his mother about it. I had run all the way home to tell Tom about it.

Later when I learned Abie had failed to take Uncle Mark’s advice and put the money in the bank, I asked Tom why Abie wouldn’t.

“What money?” Tom asked as we sat on the back porch steps, waiting until it was lunchtime.

“That strongbox full of gold pieces,” I said.

“If anybody tries to rob Abie,” Tom said, “he is going to be mighty disappointed.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

“I just know, J.D., and that’s all,” Tom said, and I knew from the way he said it that he wasn’t going to tell me any more.

Mamma had tried to buy everything she could from Abie after he’d opened his store. When she sent me to the store on an errand, she always told me to try the variety store first. If Mamma only wanted a small item like a spool of thread, I always went to the variety store. But when she wanted several items, I always went to the Z.C.M.I. store because I knew Mr. Harmon would give me a stick of peppermint candy free. There were never any customers in Abie’s store when I did go there. I began to think that Papa had made a big mistake in talking Abie into opening a store in town. And I hoped that people were right and Abie did have a strongbox full of gold pieces, because he sure wasn’t doing much business.

The second time Abie fainted was just six days after the first time. He fainted in front of the post once. Uncle Mark saw it happen. When he revived Abie, he wanted to take the old man to see Dr. LeRoy.

“A doctor cannot help me,” Abie told Uncle Mark.

During supper that evening Papa and Mamma were talking about it.

“I don’t understand what Abie meant,” Papa said, “unless he meant that he has some kind of incurable disease.”

“Dear God I hope not,” Mamma said.

The third time Abie fainted was just a few days before school started. It happened right before my eyes. Mamma had sent me to get her a package of needles. I knew Mr. Harmon wouldn’t give me any free candy for such a small purchase. I went to the variety store.

“How are your good father and wonderful mother, John?” Abie asked me as he got the package of needles.

“Just fine, thank you,” I said.

Abie laid the package of needles on the counter. Then he suddenly pressed his hands to the sides of his head. I became terrified as I watched his eyes roll crazily around and around and saw him fall to the floor. I ran screaming out of the store and didn’t stop until I reached the marshal’s office. By the time I returned to the store with Uncle Mark some people who had seen me run screaming out of the store had revived Abie. He was sitting in a chair. Again Uncle Mark tried to get Abie to see Dr. LeRoy. Again Abie refused to see the doctor.

I told Mamma about it when I got home.

“Abie must see a doctor,” Mamma said when I finished. “Even if he has some incurable disease as you father suspects, at least Dr. LeRoy can give him something for the pain. I’ll get your father to invite Abie for Sunday dinner. That will give your father and me a chance to persuade Abie he must see a doctor.”

Papa stopped at the store the next morning to invite Abie for Sunday dinner. There was a CLOSED sign on the door.

“I thought he might be so ill that he closed up the store,” Papa told Mamma when he came home for lunch, “so I went around in back and pounded on the rear door. There was no answer. The only explanation I can think of is that Abie went to Salt Lake City to see a specialist or to order some new merchandise for his store.”

Mamma sent me to the variety store three days later to get a package of carpet tacks. The CLOSED sign was still on the door. I went to the Z.C.M.I. store to get the tacks. When I told Mamma about it, she got real upset. She telephoned Papa and Uncle Mark to come to our house at once. I went to tell Tom and Sweyn, who were cleaning the parlor rug. They had it hung on the clothes line and were beating it with broom handles. They were covered with dust, but that didn’t stop them from following me into the parlor where Mamma was waiting with Aunt Bertha. Papa and Uncle Mark arrived a moment later.

Nobody sat down as Mamma looked at Uncle Mark. “Did you see Abie leave on the train for Salt Lake?” she asked.

“No,” Uncle Mark replied. “I usually meet all trains but that was the day I had to ride out to the Gunderson ranch. Pete Gunderson thought some of his steer had been rustled. We found them after an all-day search in a gully.”

“Did anybody see Abie leave?” Mamma asked, and her face was now strained with worry.

“Come to think of it,” Papa said, “nobody has mentioned seeing him leave. And it is strange he didn’t tell me so I could put an item about it in the
Advocate.”

“How do we know he did leave?” Mamma asked.

“I see what you are getting at,” Uncle Mark said quickly.

“There have been quite a few drifters in town lately. One of them might have heard about the strongbox. Putting a CLOSED sign on the door would just be a cover-up to give the robber time for a getaway. Let’s go!”

All of us except Aunt Bertha ran all the way to the variety store. Uncle Mark took the butt of his Colt 45 and knocked out a pane of glass in the front door. He reached through the opening and pulled back the barrel bolt lock.

“Locked from the inside,” he said with a worried look.

We found Abie lying on his cot in the living quarters of the store. He was holding a Jewish prayer book in his hands, which were clasped on his chest. He was fully dressed, including his Jewish skull cap. His eyes were closed but he was breathing.

“Thank God it wasn’t robbery,” Papa said. “He is just sick.”

“Take him to my house,” Mamma said briskly.

“I’m afraid to move him until Dr. LeRoy looks him over,” Uncle Mark said. He turned to Sweyn. “Run and get the doctor, Sweyn.”

So many people had crowded into the store and living quarters by the time Sweyn returned with Dr. LeRoy that they had to push their way through the crowd. Dr. LeRoy ordered everybody out of the living quarters except Uncle Mark. He pulled the curtains across the doorway to the store so we couldn’t see. He and Uncle Mark remained there for what seemed a long time before coming out.

Finally Dr. LeRoy pushed aside the curtains and came into the store. His eyes were wide and his mouth twisted as if he were in pain.

“Abie is dying of malnutrition,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

I grabbed Tom’s arm. “What’s malnutrition,” I whispered.

“Hunger,” Tom answered. “Abie is starving to death.”

“Can he be moved?” Mamma asked as tears came into her eyes.

“He must be,” Dr. LeRoy said. “He needs immediate care and nursing but I’m afraid…” He didn’t finish the sentence.

“Bring him home with me,” Mamma said.

Uncle Mark wrapped Abie in a blanket and picked the sick man up in his arms. “He’s as light as a feather, just skin and bones,” Uncle Mark said, his voice choking.

Uncle Mark carried Abie down Main Street to our house, with a crowd of people following. Mamma told him to put Abie in her bedroom. She ordered Aunt Bertha to prepare some broth immediately. Then she sat on the edge of the bed bathing Abie’s face with a wet cloth.

When Aunt Bertha brought the hot broth, Mamma tried to spoon feed it to Abie. He spat it out on the bed. Then Dr. LeRoy tried to force the broth down Abie’s throat. Abie threw it up.

“I’m afraid we are too late,” Dr. LeRoy said sadly.

Mamma cradled Abie’s head in her arms. He opened his eyes slowly. A flicker of recognition came into them as he looked at Mamma. His lips moved but no words came. Then he died in Mamma’s arms.

Mamma lay his head gently on the pillow. Dr. LeRoy closed Abie’s eyelids. Mamma pulled the sheet up over Abie’s head. Then Mamma walked slowly into our parlor which was filled with people. She looked as if she had just lost one of her own loved ones.

“Abie is dead,” she said as tears toppled down her cheeks. “Three times he fell carrying his cross, just as Christ did, and we were too blind to see. May God have mercy on us.”

Every business in town closed the day we buried Abie. Every man, woman, and child able to walk followed the pine-board coffin to the cemetery. We stood there shamefaced, an entire town, as Reverend Holcomb of the Community Church looked helplessly across the grave at Bishop Aden of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

“Read the Christian burial service over him,” the Mormon Bishop said as the wind from a threatening cloudburst made his white beard wave back and forth. “I am sure both God and Abie will understand.”

We buried Abie with Reverend Holcomb reading the Christian burial service as thunder roared and streaks of lightning stabbed like swords of fire through the sky. The rain broke as the first shovelful of dirt was placed on the pine coffin. Then the cloudburst came, with rain coming down as if dumped from giant buckets in the sky. Not a man, woman, or child left the cemetery until the last shovelful of dirt had been placed on the grave and a big wreath made by all the ladies of the Community and Mormon churches placed upon it. I guess we all stood there praying that the rain would wash away some of the guilt from us.