turkey gobbler's wattle.
The last of my corn was just going through the grinding stones. Grandpa pushed a lever to one side, shutting off the power. He came over and said to Rainie, 'What do you do? Just go around looking for trouble. What do you want, a fight?'
Rubin sidled over. 'This ain't none of your business,' he said. 'Besides, Rainie's not looking for a fight. We just want to make a bet with him.'
Grandpa glared at Rubin. 'Any bet you would make sure would be a good one all right. What kind of a bet?'
Rubin spat a mouthful of tobacco juice on the clean floor. He said, 'Well, we've heard so much about them hounds of his, we just think it's a lot of talk and lies. We'd like to make a little bet; say about two dollars.'
I had never seen my old grandfather so mad. The red had left his face. In its place was a sickly, paste-gray color. The kind old eyes behind the glasses burned with a fire I had never seen.
In a loud voice, he asked, 'Bet on what?'
Rubin spat again. Grandpa's eyes followed the brown stain in its arch until it landed on the clean floor and splattered.
With a leering grin on his ugly, dirty face, Rubin said, 'Well, we got an old coon up in our part of the country that's been there a long time. Ain't no dog yet ever been smart enough to tree him, and I-'
Rainie broke into the conversation, 'He ain't just an ordinary coon. He's an old-timer. Folks call him the 'ghost coon.' Believe me, he is a ghost. He just runs hounds long enough to get them all warmed up, then climbs a tree and disappears. Our old blue hound has treed him more times than-'
Rubin told Rainie to shut up and let him do the talking. Looking over at me, he said, 'What do you say? Want to bet two dollars your hounds can tree him?'
I looked at my grandfather, but he didn't help me.
I told Rubin I didn't want to bet, but I was pretty sure my dogs could tree the ghost coon.
Rainie butted in again, 'What's the matter? You 'yellow'?'
I felt the hot blood rush into my face. My stomach felt like something alive was crawling in it. I doubled up my right fist and was on the point of hitting Rainie in one of his eyes when I felt my grandfather's hand on my shoulder.
I looked up. His eyes flashed as he looked at me. A strange little smile was tugging at the corner of his mouth. The big artery in his neck was pounding out and in. It reminded me of a young bird that had fallen out of a nest and lay dying on the ground.
Still looking at me, he reached back and took his billfold from his pocket, saying, 'Let's call that bet.' Turning to Rubin, he said, 'I'm going to let him call your bet, but now you listen. If you boys take him up there to hunt the ghost coon, and jump on him and beat him up, you're sure going to hear from me. I don't mean maybe. I'll have both of you taken to Tahlequah and put in jail. You had better believe that.'
Rubin saw he had pushed my grandfather far enough. Backing up a couple of steps, he said, 'We're not going to jump on him. All we want to do is make a bet.'
Grandpa handed me two one-dollar bills, saying to Rubin, 'You hold your money and he can hold his. If you lose, you had better pay off.' Looking back to me, he said, 'Son, if you lose, pay off.'
I nodded my head.
I asked Rubin when he wanted me to come up for the hunt.
He thought a minute. 'You know where that old log slide comes out from the hills onto the road?' he asked.
I nodded.
'We'll meet you there tomorrow night about dark,' he said.
It was fine with me, I said, but I told him not to bring his hounds because mine wouldn't hunt with other dogs.
He said he wouldn't.
