Bad Choices

THE RIDE: PART TWO

It happened this way. Boys will be boys and these boys, led by Furlow Thompson were wandering the countryside, up to no good, when they noticed that Mr. General Lee Bohanon wasn’t home. Someone said that he went to Pine Bluff once a week and stayed all day, sometimes staying all night at the Wagon Yard. That stared it all.

Mr. Bohanon raised some cows, did come timbering, and raised cotton to get by. And he got by pretty well in this little part of the world. This was after his boy was killed in the war. His daughter, Mary Custis Bohanon was married by then and his wife had died some years later. It was quiet around the place so we decided to have a look.

We didn’t intend to steal or damage anything. Well, nobody did but Furlow and we realized that only after the damage was done. Everything went well until we came across a large cattle pen behind his barn. There, standing as proud as Caesar on the Rubicon, was the prettiest half-grown bull café you ever saw.

“Would you look at that,” Bobby Joe Hankins said.

“I’ll bet he’ll go a thousand pounds,” his brother Robert said.

“Spect he’ll keep him for breeding,” Booger Shannon said.

“Let’s ride him, “Furlow Thompson said.

That silenced the crowd. “No,” he said. “Let’s ride him. Mr. General Lee won’t care.”

The thing with Furlow was you never knew when to take him seriously. You didn’t want to argue with him. He knew to many secrets wasn’t about to be shy in using them.

We waited. Nobody wanted to share responsibility, but nobody dared move. Then Furlow swirled around and walked into General Lee Bohanon’s barn like he owned the place.

T-Boy Stewart spoke up. “Is he serious?” T-Boy was the only colored member of our little gang and he knew full well that, whatever happened next, he wouldn’t be held harmless. “I ain’t havin’ nothing to do with this,” he added. “My daddy works for Mr. Bohanon.”

Before anyone could answer, Furlow came out of the barn holding two lengths of rope, each one about six feet long, a “phantom each” as they say in the Navy. “Come on,” he said. He threw the lengths of rope over the fence, undid the gate, and ushered us all into the pen where the bull calf waited, looking at us with a mixture of suspicion and contempt.

I didn’t feel good about this but followed the rest in and didn’t say a word.

 

Next week: What happened when good sense left for the day.