Bad Bones (Claire Morgan) by Linda Ladd Read Free Book Online Page A

on my bruises. Don’t you tell him that I gave it to you, you hear me, Punk? He’ll tan my hide for helpin’ you.”
    Nodding, Punk took the little metal jar and rubbed the greasy medicine around his eyes. It hurt to touch the swelled up parts.
    “I have to call you Punk, you know,” Bone Breaker said. “Pa said so. All of us have to. And they’re all callin’ me Bones now, too, ’cause I broke that bone in Hardnose’s arm. Pa’s givin’ us all fightin’ names now.”
    “Okay.” Punk looked at the only brother who had ever been nice to him. Bones was awfully brave to come out and defy their pa. “You did good last night. Thank you for comin’ in and beatin’ up that Hardnose kid for me.”
    “No problem. I like to beat up kids like him. He acts all rough and rowdy until you hit him hard as you can in the face. Then he ain’t so tough no more.” Bones grinned, very pleased with himself.
    “You’re real good at fightin’.”
    “Yeah, I know.” Bones looked around. “I better git outta here ’fore Pa comes out. He’ll whup me, even if I won and broke that guy’s bone. He says he’s gonna whup you today, so be ready for it. And remember, don’t you yell and cry, or he’ll keep it up until you stop.”
    Punk nodded, but inside he trembled with fear. He had gotten whuppings before, and it really hurt. Pa always used the whip that he used on his fighting dogs. So he went back inside the shelter and gave Banjo half his biscuit, and then he hid there for the rest of the day, hoping his pa would forget about him. But his pa didn’t forget about him.
    Just when the sun was almost all the way down and it was hard to see anything in the gray light, his pa called out his name from outside the dog pen. Punk cringed down in the straw and held his breath.
    “You better come out here, you little sissy punk, or I’ll take the hide right off you!” Pa was yelling now, loud and scary. All the dogs got real restless and started barking and howling, afraid, too.
    Punk crept out the dog door and stood beside it in the dusk. He began shaking all over, like the leaves on the oak trees around the dog pens. He was terrified. His pa did all kinds of bad things to his boys, and especially to Punk.
    “Git over here. Now!”
    Swallowing hard, Punk obeyed and walked slowly to the end of the dog run where his pa stood waiting with the whip. He was slapping it in his open palm, hard enough to make a clapping sound. He always did that when he was waiting to punish somebody. Punk moved up to him and stared down at the ground.
    “You know why I’m doin’ this to you, boy?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Why then?”
    “’Cause I lost that fight.”
    “No. Because you are a sissy little punk coward, that’s why. And I’m gonna beat you until you show me some backbone like my other boys do. Give me your hands.”
    Punk held them out, and Pa tied them to the fence post. Then he hit him once very hard on the back. Punk clamped his jaw, trying not to scream, like Bones had told him. But it hurt. It hurt him so bad.
    “Good boy,” said Pa. “Now you’re bein’ a man and takin’ it like you oughta.”
    The crop came down hard again, this time at his waist. He bit his lip until it nearly bled. But tears came out of his eyes, and he tried to wipe them on his shirt before Pa could see them.
    “You cryin’ now, that what you doin’, you sniveling little pig.”
    When his pa raised the crop again, little Banjo inched closer and started growling at him. When she bared her teeth, Pa laughed. “Hell, lookee look, that damn little pup has more courage than you do. At least, she’s got some guts.”
    But then Pa brought the whip down on Banjo’s back as hard as he could, and the little beagle fell on her side, bawling with pain. Horrified, Punk didn’t even think about it, he just turned as far as he could on the ropes and kicked his pa’s legs as hard as he could. He kept it up, too, yelling cuss words at him until Pa stepped