I mooched around the front yard, scuffing up the dirt with my bare feet, occasionally kicking a scratching hen out of the way.  I had nothing to do except hang around the house waiting for Maw’s call from the bedroom, where she was lying in her and Paw’s big bed, with my little sister, Mindy Lou. 

Paw and Jeb had gone off in the old wagon pulled by Sam, our mostly useless mule.  They’d gone to pick up Aunt Minnie at Pollen Junction, the railroad station closest to Pollen Bend.

I hadn’t met my Aunt Minerva, Maw’s sister, since Jeb was born when I was two years old.  She’d married an assistant bank manager, and they’d gone to Missouri to live.  She’d never had any kids, so each time Maw had a baby she came to look after Maw, and to get away from her husband for a couple of weeks.

Now she was on her way here to look after Maw and Mindy Lou, and to get to know her nephews.  I just hoped she didn’t get to know us too well!  “She’s a little strict,” said Maw, “But I’m sure you’ll grow to love her.  She’s sure looking forward to meeting you two boys.” 

Jeb and I had been banished to the barn to sleep while our guest was here, and we’d already shifted our personal stuff out there.  Paw said it was only polite to get our rubbish out of her way, but I was keen to move it anyway, to keep Aunt Minnie from sticking her nose into things that grownups tended to disapprove of.  Like my collection of penny dreadful comics that I’d swapped apples for with the kids at school, that Paw and Maw didn’t know about.  Or Jeb’s pet skunk, Homer.  Homer was big enough to strike fear into the heart of the stoutest man, especially one who didn’t know that Homer had been de-scented.

When Paw and Jeb finally arrived with her perched on the wagon, my heart sank a little.  She wore all black except for a pale blue blouse under her stern jacket, and her hair was fastened back into a bun, too reminiscent of our temporary teacher, Miss Taylor.  She was also cradling an excuse for a dog that she told us was a Poodle called Herbert.

“And you must be Jake,” she said with a thin smile.  “My, how you’ve grown.  And just look at you, no shoes on outdoors!”

What was it with these darned foreign women and their obsession with shoes?  She answered my unspoken question.  “You could tread on a rattlesnake or poison ivy twigs.”

“I never gits close enough to a rattler to git bit,” I protested.  “And there ain’t no poison ivy around here.”

Her lips went even thinner, and I knew the signs from Miss Taylor’s class, and quit while I was behind.

After we’d taken Aunt Minnie’s bags upstairs and put them into my and Jeb’s bedroom, Paw took her to see Maw, and we heard her cooing over Mindy Lou.  “Isn’t she the cutest little thing you’ve ever seen?”  She was talking in that high, stupid sounding voice that old women thought they had to use while talking to babies.  Jeb and I fled before she got to the coochie coochie coo stage.

“Jake, I got some bad news.”  announced Jeb as soon as we were out of earshot of the house.

“I think we’ve already seen it!”

“It’s worse.  Aunt Minnie knows Miss Taylor, she even likes her.  It’s her fault that Miss Taylor’s here.  When she heard about us needing a replacement for Mrs Bennett, she went and told her about it.”

“That’s it!  I’m running away!”  The thought of Aunt Minnie and Miss Taylor in cahoots was too hideous to bear.  Life wouldn’t be worth living, either at school or at home.  Eventually I decided to wait until after feeding time before hitting the road, just in case Aunt Minnie turned out to be a decent cook, and my stomach was thinking my throat had been cut.

I came close to being Aunt Minnie’s slave for life when I tasted her candied yams and feather light biscuits, though I held my enthusiasm in check when she blatantly said that she intended visiting her good friend Miss Taylor, and hoped that we were getting along well with our new teacher.

Imagine my horror a couple of days later when she announced that Miss Taylor would be our guest for dinner that evening.  “She wants to have a word with your Maw and Paw about your schoolwork,” she told me.  “And I thought it would be good for you to socialise with her.  Won’t that be nice?  But Jeb, it may be better to keep Homer out of the way.  City ladies don’t really hold with wild animals like that, and she’ll probably be a bit scared.”

“Good,” I thought.  If it would keep Miss Taylor away I’d tell Jeb to get a lady skunk and start a skunk farm. 

That evening things were going even worse than I had expected.  Miss Taylor sat for a while on the porch with Paw while Aunt Minnie cooked dinner, and told him I was an undisciplined child who was a distraction in class.  She said that I couldn’t seem to give a question a straight answer, in an attempt to get her goat, or in order to get the other kids to laugh at her expense.

She actually told Paw that I was bound to amount to nothing if he didn’t apply the birch switch to my legs more often.  From our hidey-hole under the porch Jeb and me could hear Paw saying that he’d be sure to talk with me about it real soon.

She asked what I planned to be when I grew up and Paw said probably a farmer like him, as I was right smart around the farm.

“And young Jeb?” she continued prying into our lives.

“Well, Jeb gets along real good with critters.  He has a prize-winning rooster that won a rosette at the last county show, and he’s raising a skunk right now.  He watches the vitn’ry working whenever he gits the chance and I reckon he’s going to be a vitn’ry hisself when he gits grown.”  Jeb lay there open-mouthed at the note of pride in Paw’s voice, when all he usually heard from Paw on the subject of his critters was yelled orders to get that damned skunk or cat or dog out of the blasted house right now!  There was no figuring adults.

“A skunk?”  I could see her eyebrows rising.  “A skunk?”

“Oh, it’s alright, he’s been de-scented.  They make real friendly pets, though Minerva has trouble keeping him outa the kitchen.  He goes in there for Herbert’s feed.”  Dad hid his disapproval of Aunt Minnie feeding that yapping thing in the house.

“You don’t see any skunks in Joplin,” said Miss Taylor, sounding interested.  “I wouldn’t mind seeing a tame one.  Maybe I could ask Jeb to bring it into my class for show and tell?”

Right on cue, Aunt Minnie came running out the door and into the yard, waving a kitchen broom at a flash of black and white that promptly ran under the porch to where we were lying listening.  Jeb and me looked at each other then at Homer, lying snuggled up to Jeb, then looked in horror at the strange skunk stamping its tiny paws in irritation at being chased.

“There he goes!” yelled Paw, not knowing one skunk from another.  “If you look under there you should get a good view of him.”

Miss Taylor did as she was bid, and crouched beside the porch while Jeb and me did our best to look like a couple of piles of rubbish.  She didn’t heed the warning sign as the skunk lifted his tail, but two seconds later he let fly with a foul smelling spray that hit her square in the chest.  I frantically wriggled backward, dragging Jeb with me, with Jeb dragging Homer after him, and we got out from under the house and ran around to the side barn, well away from the indescribable stench and the mayhem.  Miss Taylor was screaming under the porch, with her feet drumming on the ground, Aunt Minnie was standing there with the broom still in her hand, looking horrified, and Paw was diving to Miss Taylor’s rescue. 

Meanwhile, the strange skunk, having shown his disapproval of being chased with the broom, was sauntering away towards the stand of oaks, quite calm now he’d done his worst.

Paw pulled Miss Taylor clear of the porch and dragged her over to the horse trough that we kept filled for the benefit of Sam the mule and our three cows.  Dropping her in it, he yelled for Aunt Minnie to run and get the lye soap.  The moment Paw saw Jeb and I approaching from our usual opposite direction, he yelled, “Jeb, what in the hell’s happened?  I thought you had that goddamned varmint fixed.”

“But Paw,” said Jeb with his angelic face as straight as possible under the circumstances.  I was proud that I’d taught him well.  “That there skunk ain’t Homer.  Homer’s right here.  Homer wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Aunt Minnie looked from Homer to the now distant stranger and promptly rolled up her eyes and fainted.  I ran to get the can of lye soap that she had dropped and handed it to Paw.  More entertainment followed as Paw gingerly applied it to Miss Taylor’s blouse while she fought to keep his hands away from her.

“Get your dirty hands off me,” she yelled at Paw.

“But I was just…”

“Get away from me!”

“But…”

“Leave me alone!”

Paw put the can of lye down beside the trough and backed away rather thankfully, as Miss Taylor stunk to high heaven.

“You Jake,” he called to me.  “Hitch up old Sam to the wagon and we’ll get Miss Taylor home so she can get herself all cleaned up.  I don’t think you’ll be able to wear them fancy duds again,” he said to Miss Taylor.  “You’ll be better off burning them, ‘cos that smell just won’t never come out.”

When Miss Taylor climbed out of the trough and onto the wagon, I was deputised to take my teacher home.  I desperately wanted to refuse, but knew that bad as things were, that would only make them worse.  She didn’t bother saying goodbye to Paw, but pulling her evil smelling jacket around her like a tattered cloak of dignity, she sat in haughty silence as we drove through the fields, with me sitting as far away from her on the bench seat as possible. 

As we passed through Pollen Bend, the clouds of stench that surrounded our wagon attracted much hilarity from the men clustered around the saloon door.  Amid the catcalls and jeers were few expressions of sympathy, as Miss Taylor had made no effort to make friends among the townsfolk.

I snuck a sidelong glance at her red face and was surprised to see tears in her eyes.  I came closer to liking her at that moment than ever before, so I made a friendly overture and asked her, “Miss Taylor, do you want Jeb to bring Homer in for show and tell tomorrow or to next week’s class?”

Well, goodness me, I never thought teachers knew that sort of language, but in a loud, bitter, long winded way she said no.  I hoped I could remember all she’d said so I could tell Jeb.  I wondered if the headmaster would make Miss Taylor wash her mouth out with lye when he heard about it.  I reckoned I’d just tell Maw and Paw and Aunt Minnie that she’d decided against it.