I grew up near a small farming town in Texas, close to the border with Oklahoma. It was a religious community centered around the church and my parents were good God fearing Christians. We owned a small farm and grew vegetables, some grain, and raised livestock. It was a demanding life with lots of chores, but overall, I had a good home.
I lived with my Momma, Pop, older brother Billy and younger sister Rosanne. I was a pretty average kid who liked to spend free time playing baseball and marbles with my friends, catching tadpoles, and shooting at pop cans with my BB gun. We had an old dog named Bongo who I loved like a sibling, and a pony that I would ride when my farm work and homework were done. My parents were strict but loving and my Mom and Dad were happy together, even after all the hard years and struggles associated with trying to scratch a living out of the soil.
One summer's day when I was nine years old, I came home from a ballgame to find my sister playing dolls with a new girl I'd never seen before. Rosanne quickly introduced her new friend as Ella who was now living at the next farm where her father had been hired by Mr. Miller as a hand. Ella and her parents moved into the small bunkhouse Mr. Miller had built several years before when he decided he was too old to run the farm without help. The Millers were good people and we socialized with them often, but they were an older childless couple and Mr. Miller was not as spry as he used to be. His last farm hand recently moved on so he recruited another, leading to Rosanne being ecstatic because she now had a playmate within biking distance from our place.
Ella was a pretty girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. She was slim and outgoing and said hello before going back to playing with my sister. She was my age but she didn't look like she could throw a baseball and she played with dolls, so I really wasn't interested in getting to know her better.
Over the next couple of years, I saw Ella regularly at school and at our house, but never paid her any mind. She was smart and popular and I had her in several of my classes, but we seldom spoke. Then, one day on the way home from school, I ran across her in the ditch beside the old gravel road that led from our farm into town. Our school was on the far side of town and it was a thirty minute bike ride from home, but we all rode it every day unless the weather was really bad and our parents drove us.
Ella had run over a rock and gone off the road into the ditch. She was a bit scratched up and covered with some mud, but not really hurt. Her bike, however, had a broken chain and wasn't rideable so when I found her, she was looking quite miserable and somewhat desperate.
Even though Ella and I were both 11 and she wasn't really my friend, I couldn't just leave her there alone. My folks would expect me to look out for my neighbor, but I couldn't fix her bike without tools. I told her that I would walk her home so we pushed our bikes together in the warm afternoon sun.
It took us about an hour and a half to walk home and during that time, I finally got to know Ella a little better. She told me that she was done with dolls and would rather catch frogs and play sports. I told her where the best tadpole holes were and about the abandoned quarry where you could swim when it was really hot outside. She asked me if I would teach her to fish, and I said I would, but I had to promise that I would worm the hook for her. By the end of the walk, I had a new friend and I was excited to start doing some of the things we'd talked about together.
Momma was upset because I got home from school so late and hadn't started my chores, but when Ella explained that I had 'rescued' her, Momma was satisfied that my actions were charitable and stopped being angry. We both helped Ella clean up and then she offered to help me do my evening chores. It was a lot more fun doing chores with a friend than doing them alone.
By the time we were all done, Momma was ready to put supper on the table, so she invited Ella to stay and said Dad would drive over to the Miller farm so Ella's Mom and Poppi would know where she was and not worry. I asked Ella why she called her Dad Poppi and she said that her Dad had died in an accident when she was young and Poppi was her Momma's new husband. Dad told Ella that her Poppi would fix the chain on her bike, but Ella shook her head and said, "Poppi's going to take me to the barn tonight for sure."
Taking a kid to the barn was an expression we used for getting spanked because it was common for a father to take his kid to the barn, take off his belt, and give the kid some swats across the backside. My Dad did this to all of us whenever we did something that warranted punishment. It hurt, but he was always moderate with the dispensing of physical punishment and always hugged us after it was over.
Momma said, "It was an accident Ella. I don't think your Poppi will punish you for something that wasn't your fault."
"Oh, he takes me to the barn for lots of stuff. Being lazy, talking back, not doing my chores, lots of things," she said, but without any reservation or fear. "Must be two or three times a week we go to the barn."
"Does your mother know he spanks you that often?" Momma asked with a concerned look on her face.
"Poppi told me never to mention it to my Mom cause she's sickly enough and doesn't need my bad behavior to worry about. He says it's between him and me, but he never hits me so it's OK," Ella explained.
"If he doesn't spank you, why take you to the barn?" I asked, now quite confused.
When Ella explained what happened in the barn, Momma turned white and Dad sent us all to our rooms, except for Ella, who they asked to stay behind.
A few minutes later, Momma told us Ella would be staying over for a couple of nights and that Dad had gone over to the Miller farm to talk to Mr. Miller and Ella's folks.
