Stepping Between The Ants - Book ONE: The Winter Escape: Stepping Between The Ants, #1

By Lord Chester L. Baldwin II

Set in 1963, 'Stepping Between The Ants' Book FOUR: The Fall Behind, is a continued collection of stories that follow two boys; Skipper and Richie, that try to figure out what life is all about. 

The story about Skipper and Richie with their mother, (Mother Bean) and their younger brother Charlie and their younger sister Mary, travel on a bus; running away and arrive in Portland Oregon where Mother Bean's mother; Grandma Scarbrough lives. 

This story documents some of the continued adventures and challenges that Skipper and his brother Richie encounter in their new surroundings, which include;

Having to go to a public school after having always attended Catholic schools

Skipper and Richie find their own special place to be, eventually to be placed up in Grandma Scarbrough's attic, where, for the first time in their lives they feel a sense of well-being and safety.

Skipper and Richie find new friends from their new school who help educate them to their new surroundings and help them to acclimate their bearings. 

Skipper and Richie find and join a Boy Scout Troop with their new friends where they can continue their quest to become Eagle Scouts.

Within this coming-of-age story, Skipper and Richie will have to face their own predetermined notions of what the awful label, 'Retarded' really means before they can fight the injustices and begin to truly understand, and to find the courage and strength to support and champion their newly found, life-changing friendships.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A Lord Baldwin Happening
• Release date: Dec 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201880675

Book preview

— THE  BEAN  FAMILY’S

ESCAPE —

––––––––

"A Scout is Trustworthy,... Loyal,... Kind,... no, no,... that’s not right." Richie said softly to himself while he sat nestled in the darkness on the Greyhound bus bench seat as it traveled swiftly down the road.  Richie reopened and fumbled through his brother’s Boy Scout Handbook to find the right page that could tell him the correct order to recite the Scout Law.  "I just know there’s something after Loyal and before Kind."

"Helpful and Courteous." A quiet voice statically called out from behind. Wrapped in an old, World War II army blanket on the bench seat behind Richie was his older brother Skipper, who was dog tired and trying to sleep, but after being jostled to and fro from the rough road that the Greyhound bus was now traveling down, he found it near impossible.  

Oh yeah, Richie replied, I knew that.

Yeah, of course you did. Skipper said lovingly with a note of sarcasm as he sat up and leaned over the seat in front of him. He smiled. You know, if you wait till morning, we can both see the words in my book a little better.

With all this rocking and rolling in this bus.  Richie called out, I can’t sleep. Richie looked out across the aisle to the seats behind and in front of him and said, I don’t know how mother and Charlie and Mary can sleep.

Are you kidding? Skipper replied, as he covertly reached down and finger-flicked Richie’s ear.  Mother’s been trying to catch up on all her sleep ever since we left Iron Mountain.

Ow. Richie called out in pain.  Why’d you do that?

Do what? Skipper asked innocently, sitting back out of view.

Bop my ear. Richie answered.  Anyways, it was my turn, you know?

No it wasn’t. Skipper returned. You did that wet willie to me two hours ago.

No, no, Richie retorted, you punched my shoulder right after that.

That was an accident. Skipper retorted as he picked up his Boy Scout Handbook and started thumbing through it.

That was retaliation. Richie returned, sadly watching as the book disappeared.

No, it wasn’t. Skipper said calmly as he sailed the Scout book back over the seat and sat down next to Richie. And what makes you think, Skipper said smiling, that you know what that word means anyway?

Retaliation? Richie questioned. It means I’m gonna get back at you and now it’ll be in doubles too.  His voice trailed off as he opened the Scout book up to page 84 again to study the Scout Law.

I’ll bet you, you’ll be able to say the Scout Law by heart by noon tomorrow. Skipper said with a positive smile as he returned to his own seat.

Maybe, Richie replied with a glance, but I’m, I think I’m getting tired.

I’ll help you go through it. Skipper said as he watched Richie disappear.

There was no reply. 

I mean, Skipper went on, I know it’s been three days, but the bus ain’t gonna get there till tomorrow night, and I can help you with the Scout Oath too. 

Still no reply. 

Skipper leaned up and over the seat and looked down to see Richie was fast asleep, his hand still holding the Boy Scout Handbook.  Skipper gently flicked Richie’s ear to see if he was faking it. Richie did not move. How does he do that? Skipper asked as he settled back onto his own seat to look out the window. It’s not fair.

The headlights of the bus barely cut through the black-darkness as the windshield wipers slapped frantically to clear the rain mixed with snow that was flying sideways in all directions.  Heavy winds pushed against the sides of the bus and whistled as it found access through the cracks of the windows.  The bus driver, trying to make up for hours of lost time, had taken what he thought was a shortcut.  He was nervously driving too fast down a back road that was full of pot holes and cracks, hopeful the bus was close to the Nebraska-Wyoming state line.  The bus driver squinted anxiously to try to see down the highway for some familiar landmarks or road signs to give an assurance that he was driving in the right direction, but the further the bus traveled in its uncertain direction the more the driver doubted that he was going the right way. 

Skipper gave up trying to read an Uncle Scrooge comic book in the dark interior of the bus and turned to the window and looked out for signs of life.  There appeared to be something way off, a city or town, but he was sure that it was at least an hour away. Meanwhile the whistling through the window, the hum of the engine, the beating of the hard rain against the vehicle’s metal roof and the constant swaying of the bus, began to pacify Skipper’s thoughts, prompting him to give up his quest.  The dull lighting inside the bus only agreed that it would be all right for him to rest for a moment.  He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

In his dream, Skipper and Richie were sitting in the back seat of a red and white Station Wagon and Skipper could see Portland Oregon through the front windshield of the car. His stepfather, known as Senior, was driving, while Mother Bean was sitting across from him calmly looking out the passenger window, and Charlie and Mary were peacefully and bizarrely fixed in the front bench seat between Mother Bean and Senior.

It was an unusually calm night.  As he and Richie watched the scenery out the side windows, the city’s downtown lights glimmered in the evening against the midnight blue sky like so many stars in the night.  

Gradually, Skipper began to realize that something was wrong.  He looked out the front windshield of the car and he became conscious that the skyline of Portland was shrinking; he then realized that the station wagon was traveling in reverse.

Richie looked at Skipper with a mixture of confusion and fear as he too now realized the circumstances. Richie cried out, We’re going the wrong way!

There was no response or even movement from anyone in the front seat.

We’re driving backwards. Skipper shouted, but there was still no response.

Skipper realized that Senior was calmly ignoring him and Richie, as Senior continued looking straight ahead at the diminished scenery.  Charlie and Mary continued to sit calmly, motionless in the middle of the front seat between Senior and his Mother.

Mother, do something! Skipper yelled. He knew or at least felt that somehow, she could hear him, but then, why didn’t she answer him? Mother? Skipper frantically called out again. Mother?  Mother!

Skipper’s Mother finally turned around with a, hopelessly heartbreaking, What can I do? look in her eyes.  It was at that moment that Skipper knew they were in trouble. 

Senior never turned around; he just kept driving on—backwards, with a tiny vengeful smile on his face that glared at the boys in the back through the reflection in the rear-view mirror as his mostly-bald head reflected the city too, but in a warped sort of way.

Suddenly the station wagon started to rock from side to side, then up and down. Skipper and Richie were bouncing all over the back seat while strangely, everyone in the front seat seemed relaxed and unaffected. Skipper turned around and looked out the back window to see that they were now off the highway road and were driving through some rocky field and heading for what he could make out in the darkness as, the edge of a steep canyon that looked like it was about to suddenly end.

We need to stop! Skipper shouted frantically. We’re going to go off the cliff!

Everything’ll be fine. Mother Bean said calmly, not turning around. Don’t worry.

Don’t worry? Skipper yelled back. We’re gonna crash down that mountain!

The car hit what looked like a huge boulder, followed by the car’s left rear tire driving into a huge hole in the ground, lurching the vehicle upwards as it bounced out, all of which threw Skipper up into the air.  With a hurting, heavy thud, Skipper came down fast and hit the side window before he was immediately thrown back up into the air again.

Skipper woke up suddenly at the moment his face slammed against the bus window glass a third time.  He Rubbed his face as he looked around, slowly remembering that he was in a bus heading for Portland Oregon where his Grandma Scarbrough lived.

Hey Driver. Yelled an annoyed man with a big head that was dressed in an army uniform. How’s about you slowing down a bit. There was an air of authority in his voice like the army guy had been used to giving out orders. I think I speak for all of us on this bus, he said annoyed, when I say that we want to get there alive and in one piece.

Sorry Sir. The Driver apologized curtly as he looked back in his rear-view mirror. I was trying to make up for all the lost time we were waylaid in that farmer’s barn for the afternoon after the bus broke down.  The bus driver did not like passengers chiding him, but he replied, We hit a stretch of bad road.  The driver added. I’ll slow it down.

Skipper settled back into his seat and looked out the window into the darkness.  He was bothered and wondered why Senior continued to haunt him in his dreams?  Richie? He whispered loudly to the seat in front of him. Richie, you awake?

From the low rumbling kind of snoring Skipper heard, he knew that Richie was fast asleep. Skipper leaned forward and looked down. Richie. He whispered softly, putting his face as physically close to the huddled mass as he could without touching Richie. Richie, he pressed, are you awake?

Yeah. Richie muttered, sitting up, exhaling loudly to let Skipper know he was annoyed.  But then finding the Boy Scout Handbook on his seat, Richie suddenly became more agreeable.

I had this dream. Skipper began, No, it was a nightmare,...

Yeah? Richie exhaled questioningly with a note of curiosity. 

Skipper dipped his hand into the back pocket of his gray-tweed, corduroy pants and pulled out a translucent quartz crystal.

What’s that? Richie asked, peering over with interest. 

Just a rock. Skipper answered, polishing it with his hand. Neat. Right? I found it at the last bus stop in Madison. He handed the quartz crystal to Richie.  Mother wouldn’t be too happy if I got a hole in one of my back pockets because of that rock.  It’s my only pair of pants right now.

Yeah, me too. Richie agreed. Didn’t have time to get any more clothes either."

I wish I could a gotten something to fix this, Skipper began as he held up his left shoe where the threading to the front part of the sole had worn away the stitching just enough to allow the sole to flap with every other step he took. Skipper laughed as he said, I got that, ‘step, step flap, step, step flap’ slapping sounds everywhere I go now.  Skipper had gotten used to it, and at times, had even forgotten it was happening, but while being on the bus, he walked around in his socks so as to not draw attention to himself or to his shoe’s awkward condition. 

Only minutes before the Bean family got on a bus leaving from Iron Mountain Michigan, Mother Bean had pulled Skipper and Richie out of their classes from the ‘Immaculate Conception’ Catholic School and the Bean family had gone back to the house for only a quick moment to collect things. 

Skipper, Mother Bean had said, before turning her head towards the front door; listening for something she thought she had heard.  With worry on her face, she continued, Go find your brother Richie. She walked over to the front window and scanned the street outside before turning back to face Skipper. I want you to take these pillow cases, she said, handing Skipper two pillow cases that she had hand embroidered herself with bright bluebirds enmeshed in pink flowers and spring-green leaves. Her attention turned towards the kitchen where Charlie and Mary were fighting over something.  Charlie, She shouted, annoyed, Give your sister one of those cookies.  Then without looking back to Skipper, she continued, Find your brother Richie, She paused as she scanned the room, annoyed, Why is it he is always missing when it comes to doing work? She turned to Skipper and said hurriedly, I’m not messing around.  You go find Richie and tell him.  You boys have 10 minutes to put whatever you want to take with you into those pillow cases.  Now, go.  

She looked at Skipper and smiled sadly but said, laughingly, You know the drill. Seeing apprehension still on Skipper’s face, Mother Bean added, Don’t worry.  It’s gonna be okay.  I don’t think we have anything to worry about.  Senior doesn’t know anything, but we’re gonna need to leave here she said, "Really soon," with a strong emphasis on the word, really.

We need to be downtown in,... she looked at her watch and said, The clock is ticking; you boys got ten minutes and that’s all.  She put her hands to both sides of her head and slowly ran her fingers through her hair, contorting her face like she couldn’t remember something.  So, get your stuff. She looked at her watch again and said, You now got nine minutes and we’ll be leaving.

Skipper found Richie upstairs in their bedroom.  Skipper was ready to read him the riot act but seeing the confused apprehension in Richie’s face, Skipper knew this running away, moving thing was so upsetting to Richie that he was befuddled, and rather than chastise him, Skipper handed the pillowcase to Richie and parroted what Mother Bean had said, You know the drill.

Skipper and Richie made a mad dash through their room, quickly evaluating and re-evaluating the worth of everything they owned.  Skipper suddenly stopped, turned to the closet and dug down into a broken wicker basket clothes hamper that he had salvaged from the next-door neighbor’s trash heap. This was his treasure chest where he stored all his best stuff.  He pulled out the WW II parachute that was over all his possessions, looked at it for a moment but realized it would fill most of the pillow case and he cast it aside.  Then there was the prized safari set with its safari hat, a rifle, a plastic leather-like belt with side arm (and holster), on one side of the belt and a rubber knife (with sheath) on the other side; a gift that he had gotten for Christmas from his Grandpa Scarbrough.  This too, unfortunately was cast aside; too bulky, but he threw in the rubber knife and sheath.

Skipper dug down below a stack of Uncle Scrooge and Classic Illustrated comics and smiled as he pulled up his Boy Scout uniform; his Scout shirt, always revered and folded neatly, his Scout cap which he liked but would rather have had a campaign hat like traditional Scouts of old, his Scout trousers which was a treasured item for Skipper for two reasons, first, because half of the Scouts in Michigan didn’t even have Scout pants, but second, and for the most part, because these Boy Scout trousers used to belong to his brother John and Skipper revered his older brothers, John and David.  And there was his red with black trim neckerchief along with its hand-crafted Turk’s Head woggle, given to him by his Scoutmaster when he advanced to First Class Rank, and there was a pair of Scout stockings that Skipper had fished out of the trash on one of his Scout campouts; socks that had holes in the heels and thus had been thrown away. And then there was his marvelous adjustable Scout belt which Skipper sometimes wore clandestinely with his Catholic school uniform, but the belt was safely concealed under Skipper’s sweater that had been pulled down over it,  And lastly, and almost most importantly, Skipper’s Boy Scout handbook.  Can’t leave this behind. He said stuffing all his Scout stuff into the pillow case before diving back down into the bowels of the clothes hamper to pull out other, ‘I can’t live without this’ stuff.   

The two boys were bouncing suggestions to each other and they were still scrambling around when Mother Bean yelled up the stairway from below, Alright boys, we gotta go now. 

And having no time to change, Skipper and Richie found themselves boarding the bus still dressed in their school uniform; corduroy pants, white shirt, navy blue sweater, black military-grade shoes, all part of a school dress code that, frankly, Skipper kind of liked, and with their pillowcases draped over their shoulders. 

Did your dream have vampires and monsters in it? Richie asked with mild interest, his blonde hair disheveled and directionless.

No, it was just too real, you know?

Richie sat up and tucked in his white shirt before he gazed out the window, while adjusted his sweater Where are we? He asked, yawning as he looked down at the translucent quartz crystal rock.

I don’t know. Skipper answered; shrugging his shoulders.

What time is it? Richie asked, yawning a second time. 

I don’t know that either. Skipper answered in an irritated manner.

Don’t cha wish we had a cheeseburger right now? Richie asked thoughtfully.

What? Skipper barked, disappointed that there was no interest in his dream. Hey, just go back to sleep, okay?

Why are you mad? Richie asked with surprise.

I’m not mad, Skipper replied submissively, uh, just forget it.

Richie grunted as he gave Skipper a look of exasperation before his head disappeared into the darkness. 

Forget it. Skipper said softly to himself, settling in and looking around to see that most of the passengers were asleep.  It was just a dream anyway.    

A few seats in front of him, across from where Mother Bean was sleeping, a cigarette glowed in the dark.  It was Pete; a serviceman with a large nose that had played cards with Skipper and Richie when the bus broke down in Nebraska.  Skipper moved to the empty seat in front of Pete and looked over at Mother Bean.  She was sleeping upright slumped over, with her head bouncing up and down as the bus hit the bumps in the road.  Skipper went back to his seat and grabbed his army blanket, pulled off his sweater and placed it on the edge of Mother Bean’s seat before gently lowering her down onto it.

What? She said surprised anxiously before realizing what her son was doing. Thank you, Skip. She said with a distant smile and surrendered to the sweater pillow. Skipper then covered her with his army blanket and she quickly fell back to sleep.  

Night owl, huh? Pete asked softly, leaning forward as cigarette smoke drifted into Skipper’s face and ashes from his cigarette dropped onto the top of the bench seat between them.

Nah, I just couldn’t sleep. Skipper replied. I was just thinking about things and,.. Skipper rubbed the cigarette ashes into the seat’s upholstery and looked away, careful not to stare at Pete’s long face that looked like his head had been pressed in from both sides with a vice so hard that it flattened his head, contorted his ears and had made his nose pop out.

Pete, aware of Skipper’s fixation, was humored, and said, Runs in the family.

What? Skipper said, pretending he was interested in the darkness outside.

This Durante. Pete answered, pointing. Been in the family for generations.

I didn’t... Skipper began, embarrassed.

It’s not a problem. Pete returned. When you got a proboscis like this here, ‘Cyrano de Bergerac,’ it kind of calls out to people, saying I can’t be ignored.

Ironically, Skipper had read the #79, Classics Illustrated comic book, ‘Cyrano De Bergerac’ sometime around Christmas and knew exactly why Pete had referenced the character to himself.  I hit my face hard on one of these windows. Skipper said to change the subject. 

I’m sorry. Pete said with concern.  You get hurt?

No, it didn’t hurt too bad. Skipper replied, turning round to face Pete. Say, why are you on a bus?  Don’t the army got their own buses and planes and stuff?  My brother John is in the Navy. They bring him everywhere he wants to go.

Yeah, Pete replied, they do, and I use em. But this way is faster. He put out his cigarette in his fold-out ashtray and pulled out another. Well, he continued, waving his hand with the unlit cigarette between his fingers. I could a flown out of Fort Leavenworth, but I would a had to wait for an air transit to Idaho Falls and then I’d a had to take a bus back from the other direction to make connections to Horse Creek. So, I hitched a ride to Nebraska, and caught the bus that was going from Lincoln to Cheyenne. Just an 8-hour trip by bus. Who would-a thought the bus would break down out in the middle of nothing, Nebraska?

For Skipper this bus trip was like being on vacation.  No school, no homework, and he hadn’t minded the long stay at that old farm after the bus broke down, but Mother Bean did. She kept staring down the highway, looking at every car as it passed.  This was not the first time they’d taken flight and run away.  Senior would be furious and might even try to chase after them.  Senior was no idiot.  He knew that whenever Mother Bean would run away, the destination was always to Grandma Scarbrough’s house.  How hard would it be to check the bus lines in Iron Mountain for a woman with four kids and find out where they were heading and what route the bus was going on?

I haven’t seen my mother or family for over a year. Pete said looking out the window.

Where do you live? Skipper asked.

Horse Creek, Wyoming. He said pointing out the window. It’s somewhere out there.  If we didn’t get too lost, we’re a couple hours away.

Were you in a war? Skipper asked looking over at Mother Bean, still asleep.

A war? Pete repeated with a smile. No, wasn’t in no war. Pete replied. Uh. He groaned as he waved his hand blindly in front of him as his lit cigarette left a glowing trail, We’re in the middle of winter and there’s a dang fly on this bus.

Yeah, Skipper said knowingly. He usually hangs out by ‘The End.’

The end? Pete asked curiously.

Yeah, ‘The End. Skipper said as he lifted his arms up and wiggled his fingers independently. That’s our name for the bathroom back there at the end of the bus. Skipper smiled and said with animated narrative, We call it ‘The End’ because it’s being used so much and it smells so bad, and, it’ll be the end of you if you use it."

Pete laughed and said, Well I wish this fly’d go back there right now.

Pete sat in silence for a few minutes, making a clicking sound by opening and shutting his Zippo lighter repeatedly. Then with excitement, he said, Hey, see those lights up ahead? Pete pointed out the window. I think that’s Cheyenne.

The cowboy town? Skipper asked, looking out dreamily. 

Pete laughed. Yeah, there’s still a few of em around.

Is it really cold there?

Yeah, it’s cold there, Pete answered, But that’s nothing to from where you just came from.  I heard that Lake Michigan froze over. That is cold.

It’s cold in Iron Mountain. Skipper said. Snow was up past the front porch.

That ever happen before? Pete asked. Lake Michigan freeze over?  That’s a mighty big lake.

No, I don’t think so. Skipper replied quickly. You going to Cheyenne?

Yeah. Pete replied, clicking his lighter in a slow, repetitious pattern.  I’m sure my mom is gonna flip when she sees me.  And she’ll have a lot of work saved up for me to do around the farm.

Your dad’s gone? Skipper asked, looking nervously over at Mother Bean, feeling that she would not approve of his prying, personal questions.

Yeah, Pete answered, he passed away just before I went into the Army. There was a pause. Just,... died in his sleep one night. Pete said softly as his head swayed back and forth.  Pete’s lighter rapidly clicked for a moment as he looked out the window, and then his voice became slow and deliberate as he said, One day I was out in the backyard raking leaves with him, and we were planning to go to a high school football game the coming Friday, you know? And then, the next morning,... he was gone.

I’m sorry,... Skipper began.

Hey, don’t be. Pete interrupted with a quickly changed demeanor, It’s alright. Pete crushed his hardly-smoked cigarette into the floorboard of the bus and lit another. A lot of things changed after he died. Pete said squinting his eyes and nodding slightly, I was the oldest boy and Mother was depending on me. There wasn’t much happening in Horse Creek anyway, so I joined the Army and I saved the farm.

The word army seemed to stir something in Skipper’s heart and he said with raised eyebrows, I’m in the Boy Scouts. and added qualifyingly, I was when we were in Michigan.

Really? Pete questioned in a condescending manner that made Skipper uncomfortable.  Pete smiled as he said, So how long you been in the Scouts?

I was in Cub Scouts when I was eight and Boy Scouts when I turned eleven.

So you an Eagle Scout now? Pete said jokingly.

No. Skipper replied sheepishly. I been having trouble with my advancing and stuff.  Skipper looked back determined, "It took me a while to get my First Class and I’m working on my Star rank." Skipper wanted to say how much he loved the Scouting program, but he had second thoughts.  

Skipper need no reminder why it was that he did like Scouts, it was everything to him, even though, at Scout meetings and on campouts and while working on merit badges he was mostly by himself and on his own.  He would watch as other boys would interact with their dads; dads that would monitor their son’s progress and champion their boy’s accomplishments and help them with their advancements, and work on merit badges together.  Still, he couldn’t help but feel the blues when he could see he wasn’t staying up with the other Scouts, and Skipper would be in his seat as the other boys got up to get their awards.  And from the heart breaking look on Mother Bean’s face as she looked down at him, Skipper just knew that she could see and feel his disappointment.  Skipper’s best consolation was that Richie, who was no better at advancing then him, didn’t seem to care and just seemed to like going to Scouts for the fun of it. 

There was just something to Scouting that seemed to be right to Skipper.  He loved doing stuff in Scout Troop meetings and he loved going on camping trips. Yes, he had problems with his knots and some of his cooking did not go