My surgeon has not called yet, although it is getting close to the time that he recommended, so I just kept on writing. Since I do not know what day I will enter the hospital, I am trying to write this story so that each chapter can stand alone. It may not be long enough to be considered a serial, but it is planned to be more than one chapter.

Guns are not for Little Boys
Chapter 1

Thirteen candles. That was how many candles were on Lizzie Jane’s cake and she blew them all out. Today, May 4, 1954, she was officially a teenager.

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The children were all excited. The news was buzzing around everywhere. A ‘picture show’ had opened in the little community of Carter’s Bend. Although some of the parents took in a movie when they traveled to other towns and cities, most of the children had never seen one.

While the girls were looking for romantic movies, the boys were riding the range with Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, Johnny Mack Brown, Sunset Carson, Tex Ritter, Durango Kid, and a host of other cowboys. It was not unusual to see boys shooting at each other with wooden pistols after seeing a Saturday western.

Little Jack Turner decided that wooden guns were not sufficient. He knew where his dad kept a western style six-shooter. That is when the problem began.

“Hey, I got a real gun”, as Jack proudly displayed the six-shooter.

Joe objected. “That is too dangerous to play with.”.

“Nah,” said Jack, laughing, as he pulled back the hammer and clicked the gun three times. “It’s empty. Daddy don’t keep a loaded gun in the drawer. He is afraid I will shoot someone.’

“Let’s play like you are robbing the bank,” continued Jack, “and I will be the sheriff and shoot you.”

“Okay”, said Joe as ran from the smokehouse, pretending it was the bank.

“Bang, bang”, shouted Jack as he clicked two more rounds. Joe acted like he was going to draw his wooden gun when, on the third time, the gun did not click.

Bam!

The sound of the firing pistol seemed extra loud, echoing through the valley.

Jack dropped the gun. Joe fell to the ground. The only thing Jack could think of was that he had killed his best friend and he ran toward the woods.

The parents of both boys ran to see what had happened. When they saw Joe on the ground, his mother went into hysterics. Kneeling down by Joe, the father screamed, “Somebody! Go get Doc Brown! He is still alive!”

Some of the neighbors had come out to see what had happened. One of the youngsters was sent to find Doc Brown since his office was closed on Sunday.

“Daddy…”cried Joe, as his father quieted him.

“Son, it is okay. Doc Brown will be here in a minute.”

News spread fast and soon almost the entire community was on the scene. Lizzie Jane, with her aunt and uncle, were the last ones to arrive. Doc Brown had just driven up, grabbed his bag, and ran to the fallen boy.

“Let’s get him to the office. It is a shoulder wound and I will give him something for pain right away; then we will see what has happened,” said Doc Brown. Seeing Lizzie Jane, he said, “Come with me. You can play nurse.”

Lizzie Jane assisted Doc Brown and listened very carefully as questions were put to Joe. She began to wonder what happened to Jack. Where did he go? Why was he not around when the parents got there? As soon as they were finished, she knew she had to find Jack. He must be terrified at what happened. After all, they were just kids. (She could think that now that she was a teen.)

Joe’s parents were in Doc Brown’s waiting room, wringing their hands, hoping Joe would be okay. When Doc Brown came out and told them the good news -- that it was a shoulder wound and not life threatening -- they were overjoyed.

“Just make sure he stays in bed a couple of days,” advised Doc Brown. “He will be sore for awhile. Here are some pills for pain. Make sure that he only gets three a day.”

Doc Brown called the sheriff and told him where he could find Joe, but asked him to go easy on the questioning because Joe would be in a lot of pain.

“What are you thinking?” asked Doc Brown as he observed Lizzie Jane sitting at a table in the break room, drinking a soft drink.

“I was just thinking about where Jack could have gone. I am sure he feels terrible about this. Why, he might even think he killed Joe,” replied Lizzie Jane.

Doc thought a minute and said, “I’ll bet the sheriff is wondering the same thing. Jack has to answer to this, you know.”

“Yes, I know, but I am afraid Jack may do something to himself.” With that, Lizzie Jane got up to help clean the medical utensils.

“Go on home,” said Doc Brown. “I’ll take care of these myself.”

“Thanks.” Lizzie Jane did not mind. She wanted to find Jack as soon as possible. It was dark when she stepped outside the doctor’s office. She began to walk home while trying to remember if she knew of anyone who played with Jack that might know his hiding place. Boys often had a ‘hiding place’, which was shared with their best friend.

She thought of Steve Moss. He had hung around with Jack quite a bit. Maybe Steve was the best friend. She decided to call upon Steve.

Since it was early evening, she found Steve hanging out with the guys at Nancy’s Café. As she approached the group, she learned that the topic of the conversation was the shooting. She noticed that Steve was quieter than usual. Maybe it was because they were talking about his best friend.

While standing a slight distance from the group, she caught Steve’s attention and with a wiggle of her forefinger, she motioned for Steve. Steve responded, wondering what in the world would Lizzie Jane want.

“Excuse me a moment, fellers. Gotta talk with a good looking gal,” Steve said as he left the group.

“Steve, I heard y’all talk about the shooting and I want you to know that Joe is okay. Just a shoulder wound. Jack cannot be found, so he must be on the run, thinking that he killed Joe. You are his best friend, so please tell me — did you and Jack have a secret place you liked?” asked Lizzie Jane.

“Well, uh...” stammered Steve.

“Please, tell me. Jack needs to know that Joe is alive. There is no telling what he might do to himself,” pleaded Lizzie Jane.

“Well, there is a hidden cave behind some bushes at Miller’s Mountain,” stated Steve. He proceeded to supply information to Lizzie Jane on how to get there. “I hope it is okay for you to know. Just keep it a secret — Okay? Just between the three of us.”

“Okay, “ replied Lizzie Jane. She smiled as she said, “I am good at keeping secrets”, thinking of her own adventure about three and a half years earlier.

“I will need a flashlight,” she thought to herself. Mack’s General Store was closing just as she arrived, but she talked Mr. Mack into opening it back up so she could purchase a flashlight. She also bought a few extra batteries in case it took longer than she expected.

As Mack was putting the merchandise in a bag, Lizzie Jane said, “I don’t need a paper poke. I will just put them in my pocket.” Although pushing extra batteries in the pockets of her tight trousers was a chore, she managed it very well. She did not want to be bothered with carrying a bag in her hand.

Remembering her experience with the panther a few years earlier, she thought about the need of protection, being in the woods at night, so she dropped by home and sneaked out with her quiver containing the bow and a good supply of arrows, along with her hunting knife. The doctors in Miami had allowed her to keep the items since she did not seem to be a danger to herself and such items were not illegal, being considered items normally used in a sport.

She did not want Uncle Jed and Aunt Maudie to know what she was doing. She had promised to keep the secret meeting place a secret and, if Uncle Jed had known what she was doing, he would have insisted on going with her.

She ran very swiftly through the woods, having kept herself in shape. She thought once about swinging through the limbs, but it was dark, so she decided against it. Also, it was more difficult to perform feats like that with the quiver on her back.

She had kept her practice up since she enjoyed the acrobatic thrill of it. It had been something she had learned with much difficulty and, who knows, she may want to join a circus someday as a trapeze artist. No one knew of her practice sessions. She had managed to do that in private.

As she came near the cave, she began to wonder how a youngster as young as Jack could stay in a place like this after dark. She well remembered how frightened she was lost in the woods when she first came to Carter’s Bend. Of course, she was a child back then. Now she was thirteen years old — as if that made her an adult. However, her experiences had made her more mature than her age would indicate. What she did not realize was that she still had the remnants of a childish mind, regardless of previous experiences.

She found the bushes and, as described, there was a hidden cave with a five foot opening. She had to bend over a little to enter, but once inside it opened up to accommodate her height plus three extra feet.

She called out, “Jack, Jack! Joe is okay. You can come out.”

Lizzie Jane listened carefully. No answer.

She carefully made her way deeper into the cave, shining her flashlight at everything she thought she heard moving. There were no bats and only one tunnel. Good.

The cave suddenly came to an abrupt end. She looked around and saw a smaller opening, just large enough for a big man to crawl through. She looked inside, using her flashlight, and saw a larger room. Coming this far, she thought she might just as well investigate that room, too. So crawling through the narrower hole with the quiver on her back barely scraping the top, she entered the new room. Also, the bow strung around her neck had created a slight hindrance, but she had gotten through.

It looked like someone lived there. Some folding chairs and a table holding some odd apparatus caught her attention. Hearing a weak voice, she shined the light around the room and found what seemed to be a pit in the corner. Investigating the hole, she saw Jack in a small corner of the pit. He seemed to be bruised with some cuts and scratches and barely conscious.

With a loud voice, she told Jack, “I will get you out in a minute. Just stay calm.”

Lizzie Jane looked around the room for a rope, but finding none, she made her way toward the exit with the intention of finding something — anything — that could be used for a rope.

In the excitement of discovering Jack, she had failed to notice a man crawling through the hole, followed by another man. A surprised Lizzie Jane just stood there momentarily as the man lit a kerosene lamp with the other man pointing a revolver at Lizzie Jane.

“Well, well, who do we have here — Pocahontas?” as he spied the bow hanging around her neck. To the other man, he stated, “Looks like you are right. We are going to have to move — if these kids can find this place, others can, too -- and after all that trouble of taking a table apart and putting it back together to get it through the hole.”

Turning again to Lizzie Jane, he said, “Young lady, looks like you and your friend messed things up.”

The other man just stood there silent.

“Get over to that hole,” he continued as he pointed toward the pit. As she stepped toward it, he gave her a shove and she fell to the bottom as Jack did earlier. “Now, we are going to take our stuff and leave. You two can rot down there. People will think you fell into the hole and assume it was an accident. After all, you still have your weapons, so there is no evidence of anything else happening.” He laughed, knowing that bows and arrows could do nothing to get them out of the pit. He also pitched the flashlight down, too, so it could be further proof that they had just fell into the pit.

Lizzie Jane felt of herself. She had some sharp pain where stones had cut her when she fell and some bruises were obvious from the fall. She did not seem to have any broken bones.

“What do we do now?” mumbled Jack, seemingly losing consciousness.

“He must have some head trauma,” thought Lizzie Jane. “Gotta get him outta here.”

She picked up the flashlight and checked the walls. There were a few jagged rocks up and down the walls, but not sticking out much. She could climb any kind of tree in a hurry, but had little experience in climbing a wall like that.

Could she? That was a question she pondered. She had to get out and get Jack out with her because he definitely needed medical attention. While she thought about the situation, she could hear the men talking and it sounded like they were taking the table apart to get it through the narrow hole. Good! At least, they were leaving. She wondered what crime they had committed. Oh well, no time to think about that now.

Lizzie Jane was facing the most difficult decision she had ever made. Jack was on the edge of unconsciousness and she had to get him out. He could die if he had a serious head injury. Finally, her mind was made up. She placed the flashlight in the quiver and attempted to thrown it out of the pit. It took two pitches, but she was able to throw it just far enough.

“Jack, I know it is going to be hard, but put your arms around my neck and please don’t go to sleep on me — Please — Okay?” pleaded Lizzie Jane.

With Jack on her back, Lizzie Jane began the ascension of about 15 feet in complete darkness. Slowly, she put her foot in place on a rock and grasped the next short jagged rock with her fingertips and pulled herself and Jack up a notch. Her fingers hurt terribly. Couldn’t worry about that now.

Her foot found another short rock and she pushed herself upward further. With aching fingers, she managed to place her hand in a hollow place in the wall. That helped the pain a little. Next, she reached for a rock a little larger, her foot trying to settle on a damp rock. Her foot slipped! Her fingers dug deeper into the wall.

“Oh, God, help me!” pleaded Lizzie Jane as she frantically moved her foot to a more solid spot. Perspiration began to pour from her body. Had she bitten off more than she could chew? Again, she wrestled with another short rock with her fingers — more pain, but determination kept her going. Again, pushing up with her feet — again slipping — hanging on with just the tips of her fingers with a weight on her back pulling against her.

She was older, bigger and taller than Jack, but his weight seemed to get heavier and heavier. If she were to fall, it might hurt Jack even more. She felt his grip around her neck begin to loosen,

“Please, Jack — stay awake. Please!” pleaded Lizzie Jane with all the strength she could use to speak. She was quickly becoming exhausted. With that remark, she felt his grip tighten a little.

“Just a little more,” she told herself. “Just a little more, just a little more…” she kept saying.

Struggling with all the strength she could produce and almost ready to pass out because of the pain and exhaustion, she grabbed a large solid rock at the top. With a little more effort — pushing with all she strength she had, she pulled herself and Jack up enough to find herself halfway out of the pit. Quickly locating another rock on the floor of the cave, she grabbed it and, with a final and almost unbearable effort, completed the torturous climb.

Lizzie Jane rolled on the floor, breathing heavily, feeling like she could not go any further, but she knew she had to — somehow — get Jack to medical help. She lay there on the dirt floor, trying to find the strength to go on, but how — how could she make it?

Still breathing heavily, she prayed. Surely God had not let her get this far —only to fail. She knew that she would never forgive herself if she let Jack die. She had to go on.

Retrieving the flashlight from the quiver, she spotted the hole she had crawled through to reach this room. Weak as she was, she managed to pull Jack through it into the main part of the cave. She pulled him up on her back one more time and managed to get outside the cave to some bushes where they could not be seen in case the men came back. That was also a great concern of Lizzie Jane. Maybe she could rest a little and get her thoughts back, so she could decide what to do.

As she laid there behind the bushes staring at the moon-lit sky getting her breath back, she questioned whether she should try to carry Jack further or leave him and run for help with the possibility of Jack dying from his injuries. It seem obvious to Lizzie Jane that Jack had a serious head injury, possible a brain injury.

Five minutes passed — ten minutes passed. Finally, weak as she was, Lizzie Jane managed to get up. She shook Jack, crying “Jack, speak to me! Jack, wake up!”

Jack opened his eyes enough that Lizzie Jane could see enough by the light of the moon that Jack’s pupils were unequal — a sign of head trauma. She said, “Jack, try to hang on to my neck. We are going to town right now.”

With that, she pulled Jack on her back and ran as fast as she could with the load. She had gone about a quarter mile when she heard voices. Lizzie Jane slipped behind some bushes and carefully, under the light of the full moon, she searched the area with her eyes, hoping the men had not come back. To her relief, she saw some men from Carter’s Bend and screamed, “Help! I have Jack and he is injured — bad!”

With that she put Jack down and collapsed. She had done all she could and her body just could not take any more.

When she opened her eyes, she saw a bright light over her head. She tried to turn her body, quickly discovering that she was too sore, but she had determined that she was in bed somewhere. Her first thought was Jack. With a weak voice, she asked, “Where is Jack? Is he okay?”

“Doc Brown! She has come to!” Lizzie Jane recognized the voice. It was Aunt Maudie.

She saw Doc Brown’s face over her. “Jack is in a Birmingham hospital in ICU. His skull is fractured and has been bleeding inside. He would not have lasted much longer. Time was important and I understand that you saved his life.’

“Now let’s talk about you. Your fingers are torn all to pieces. You have cuts and bruises all over your body. You, too, have lost a lot of blood and you are completed run down. When you get able, I want you to tell me what happened. Whatever it was, you and Jack must have gotten caught in the same pea thrasher.” With that last statement, Doc Brown smiled.

Lizzie Jane smiled, too.

Copyright 2007 by Starla Anne Lowry
Under the pen name of Billie Sue Pilgrim