A Place Called Serenity: Mr. And Mrs. Rupert - Part 4

Mr.s. Rupert's sense of justice was
swift and complete.
(Continued from yesterday.)

The day after the ride in the brand new Kaiser-Frazer Dickie asked his Mother, “Can I walk to Mrs. Rupert’s by my self?”

Dickies’s Mom looked out the window as if looking for some reason for saying no.

“Are there any bears?” Dickie said.

“No,” Dickie’s Mother said.

“Can I walk by my self?”

“Sure,” Dickie’s Mother conceded. “But don’t stop for anything. Don’t go near the dump or wander over near the pond.”

Dickie’s Mother dressed him in a jeans and a pull-over red and blue striped shirt. She tied his shoes and sent him out the door. She watched him as he walked across a gravel drive and past the Martin’s house. He walked behind the Martin house and from the view of his mother.

Dickie looked at t dump. It was a small ravine full of discarded construction scrap. There were all sorts of interesting things in a dump. A child can take a few boards and make an airplane, a house, or train.

Dickie walked to the edge of the dump. He was tempted the explore further. It never entered his mind that Mrs. Rupert expected him at a certain time and if he didn’t arrive she might walk to Dickie’s house to inquire of his absence. When children stop to explore a few minutes can actually be an hour.

Dickie jumped on to a board. It was like a springboard and propelled him high. He sprung up and down on it. It was exhilarating.

He wondered by the edge of the dump and peered over into a small pond. He watched fish jumping and the ripples on the water that they left.

Time to a child can act in the opposite way. A few minutes can seem like an hour. Dickie suddenly became aware that he might have spent too much time exploring. He ran up the ravine and onto the path that led to the Rupert’s. He ran and his feet hit the ground like the sound of beating a blanket on the clothes line.

The chickens spread like leaves from the wind. Behind him the rooster chaste. Dickie ran faster. The rooster jumped on his back. Dickie flailed it away. The rooster was relentless and attacked again. Dickie fell and rolled over on his back. The rooster landed on his chest and began to peck at the hands protecting his face. He screamed and cried out, but could not regain his feet to escape.

Suddenly there was silence except for the flapping of wings. Chickens cackled in the distance.

Mrs. Rupert had the neck of the rooster held firmly in her hand. She marched to the tree stump and dislodged the hatchet. She pinned the rooster’s neck to the stump and held the hatchet high above her head. The hatchet came down swiftly and violently. She held the rooster as it flapped and suddenly it fell limp. She dropped it to her side and walked over to Dickie.

“That was the excuse I needed to kill that ole rooster,” she said helping Dickie to his feet.
Dickie continued to shake and cry. He buried his head into Mrs. Rupert’s round stomach.

From that day on, Mrs. Rupert always chased the chickens away when Dickie came, but he never lost his fear of fowl.