Dear Reader – Blogging 101
The route that Marty took on his way to and from school included the whole length of Main Street. It was an interesting walk for him because of all the activity that surrounded the businesses along the street. There were several businesses that intrigued him; the pool hall (which was off limits for an eleven year old boy), the beer parlour (where only men twenty-one years or older were admitted), the drug store (that housed strange paraphernalia), the two hardware stores (where all the sports equipment was sold), Yee Eddy���s General Store (where you could buy hard five year old candies), the two garages (which displayed beautiful new 1951 cars and trucks), but none of these held his interest more than Tweedsmuir Hall.
Tweedsmuir Hall was the site of many functions for the community of nearly five hundred, the most important of which, according to Marty, was that of showing picture shows. Every Thursday evening, Saturday afternoon and Saturday evening, the weekly feature would be shown. The bill board which advertised the current show as well as up coming ones was placed in front of the hall and only a few feet away from the sidewalk. On Mondays, the day that changes were made, Marty would leave home a few minutes earlier than usual so that he could stop by and study the bill board. Eagerly anticipating an action show as a western Marty was often disappointed because he did not like musicals especially if Doris Day was featured.
It was on a mid September Monday morning when Marty stopped to view the billboard that he spotted the posters for Broken Arrow, the story of Cochise. Broken Arrow featured James Stewart as Tom Jeffords and Jeff Chandler as Cochise. With his heart thumping against his chest, he ran as fast as he could to the school playground where he would break the news to his good pal, Jimmy.
Two weeks later each with the admission rate of fifteen cents in hand, Marty and Jimmy lined up in front of Tweedsmuir Hall eagerly awaiting for the Saturday matinee doors to open. In oder to ensure a front row seat, Marty and Jimmy had stood in front of the doors for at least a half hour. They would not risk having to sit far back to the rear of the hall where their view would be totally blocked. They were not disappointed. Jeff Chandler was their hero: he was tall, erect, shiny black hair, chiseled face and body, proud and fearless.
Following the show and with imaginations running wild, Marty and Jimmy laid plans to emulate Cochise.
���I want to be like Cochise,��� exclaimed Jimmy.
���So do I,��� retorted Marty, ���but we have no horses, no bows, no arrows and besides there are no wagon trains to ambush.���
After some silence and with thoughts racing, Jimmy quietly whispered to Marty, ���We can make bows and arrows and there is one wagon with a team of horses in town, the drayman; we will ambush the drayman.���
So it was and after scouring the town as well as the town pasture, Marty and Jimmy were each able to fashion a bow and several arrows. Even to their surprise the bows made from partially dried willow, strung with leather shoe laces, were quite effective. They tested several kinds of arrows, some with shingle nails driven into the tips, others were blunt. All had chicken feathers wired securely at the tail ends of the arrows.
���We have our weapons, now we have to plan the ambush!��� Exclaimed Marty. ���Where will we ambush the drayman���s wagon? We can���t start shooting arrows at his horses while he is delivering parcels in town: he will see us,��� mused Marty.
���You���re right, but – aha aha, the drayman also hauls the honey wagon. We can ambush him at night as he is loading the wagon with honey from the honey pots,��� replied Jimmy.
���Wow! Good idea! We could hide behind a fence and when he stops by an outhouse to take out the pots of honey, we could shoot the horses in the ass,��� Marty replied enthusiastically.
���I have a better idea,��� suggested Jimmy. ���He uses the trail that goes through the town pasture to get to the open pit dump so we could hide in the bushes and when he comes by, we could shoot the horses in the ass.���
���Okay, let���s do it,��� agreed Marty. ���All we have to do is find out when he is making his next haul.���
Two weeks passed from the time that the plans were laid. During that lull time, the warriors had scouted the best location for the ambush. Several rehearsals in the proceedings had occurred. Distances were calculated. The ambush was simulated. Reasons for escaping their houses after dark were deliberated. Just like Cochise. Nothing was overlooked.
Marty had just finished his supper when Jimmy knocked on Marty���s door and whispered to Marty that he had just seen the drayman loading the wagon.
���Mom, I am going out for a while, okay?��� Asked Marty.
���Where are you going? It is getting dark outside,��� said his mother.
���A bunch of kids are playing Kick the Can and they want me to play,��� begged Marty.
���Okay, you can go but be back before the nine o���clock curfew bell rings.���
���Sure mom,��� came the reply from Marty.
Quickly the warriors fetched their weapons from their secret hiding place, checked the arrows and then headed out to their rendevous with the honey wagon. The two warriors scurried swiftly and silently down the alley, crossed the highway, then entered the trail that lead to the dump. They followed the trail across the railroad tracks and into the town pasture. The barbed wire gate that prevented the town resident���s milk cows from escaping the pasture, was lying open when they arrived.
���Mr. Gulak has beaten us here,��� exclaimed Marty. ���We will have to run and set up our ambush quickly because it won���t be long before he returns with the empty wagon.���
The fenced open pit where the honey was dumped was located at the farthest corner of the pasture. A small open clearing lay between the dump and the groves of aspen mixed with willow bushes. The warriors knew exactly where to position themselves so that they would not be seen but were close enough to the trail to score a good shot. They had practiced the drill several times. As the warriors crouched silently in wait, they heard the drayman talk to his horses as he backed the full wagon into position and soon after the sound of rushing, gushing honey could be heard. The smell of honey wafted over them, telling the warriors that the action would start very soon.
���It won���t be long now,��� whispered Jimmy. ���Get ready.���
A few more minutes passed. The dark silhouette of the team of horses with Mr. Gulak sitting on top of the wagon came into view. Each warrior stood up, placed the bow string into the notch at the back of the arrow, pulled back the arrow as far as an eleven year old arms could and waited with hearts pounding and sweat running down their cheeks. As the victim approached, the unsuspecting drayman could be heard humming a tune. That, and the merry jingling sounds made by the unused trace links, were all that interrupted the quiet of the darkness. Silently and simultaneously, the arrows were unleashed striking their mark. Reacting to the impact of the arrows, both horses suddenly and unexpectedly lurched forward and kicked at the unknown attackers.
Pulling on the reins, Mr. Gulak yelled, ���Whoa Jean! Whoa Pat! What the hell���s the matter with you Jean? Whoa!��� Bewildered as much as the horses as to the cause of the outburst, Mr. Gulak stopped the team, climbed down from his perch and talking softly, he calmed down the horses.
Meanwhile, Marty and Jimmy vacated their hiding places, raced ahead, settled into another hiding place and reloaded. From their hiding places, the warriors could sense that this time the approaching team and driver were excitable and confused. Mr. Gulak could be heard muttering to himself as he held the reins taut in case the team decided to run. Again, just as the team passed by, the warriors unleashed another two arrows and again effectively striking their intended targets but with different results. Jean had had enough of the pests that were annoying her. Being struck twice in the ass by blunt arrows was more than she would tolerate. Rearing up on her hind legs she drove forward with all her might carrying Pat, Mr. Gulak and the wagon with her.
���Jean, Jean! For Christ���s sake, Jean!��� Mr. Gulak yelled as Jean took the bit in her teeth and began to run away as fast as she could, taking Pat along with her.
The warriors jumped out of their hiding places and watched as the honey wagon disappeared in a cloud of dust. Yipping and laughing, the warriors followed the trail back to town. Except for the settling dust, there was no sign of the drayman and his team.
Marty walked into his home just before the curfew bell rang. His mom who was working in the kitchen asked, ���How was Kick the Can?���
���It was fun,��� came the reply.
