Never Give Up

By Mister Bill

Life * Death * Survival

Never Give Up is a novel recounting the hardships, friendships, love, survival, and rewards of a family struggling to make life work on their farm in Eastern North Carolina.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781646285044

Book preview

Chapter 1

It is a hot summer day late in August, and I’m heading home from the county seat. I had just seen the latest movie. Most Saturdays, I walk to town to see a movie. In our little farmhouse, we have a radio, which I listen to as much as I can, but most of the time, I am too busy with my farm chores. Movies in town are a big treat for me.

Papa has not been home long; he was in the Army for two years, and we are finally feeling like a family again with him back home. He answered the call to duty during World War II. I was proud of him, but I sure missed him while he was gone. His tour of duty took him to an island in the Pacific Ocean. While he was away, Mama saved as much money as possible, and now Papa is going to build us a house we can call our own. We’ve always lived in a house someone else owns. The whole family is so excited about living in our very own home someday soon. Papa is a hero to us. He didn’t get any medals while he was in the service, but that makes no difference to us. We are just glad to have him back.

As I walk along the country road, I see the curve that bends to the right. Just as I round the curve, I see two parked cars. One is an old beat-up black car. I’ve never seen it before; there are not a lot of cars in the community where I live, so I pretty much know every car and who owns it. The other car is Bud’s car. Bud is our highway patrolman who lives just a few miles away on a tobacco farm with his mom and dad and is a friend of mine. I liked Bud from the first time I met him. I like hearing him tell stories about his job. He once said I could call him if I ever needed a law enforcer, but I think he was just being nice because we never have any trouble on our farm.

I wonder where Bud and the driver of the old black car are. Both cars are parked by the side of the road, but no one is around. I stop to listen. No sound, no voices. Shrugging my shoulders, I just keep walking. It is a beautiful day, so I stop fretting and let my thoughts drift back to the movie I just saw. I finally reach the section in the highway where I can see my house and know I’ll be home soon. I’m singing an old country song, as I often do whether I’m working or playing. Singing helps pass the time. I can’t carry a tune, but it doesn’t matter to the old mule pulling the plow.

I stop in my tracks at the sound of a shot. It sounds like a rifle. I know the sounds of all guns, and I can tell it’s a rifle. Everyone around here has guns. I have a shotgun and a rifle and shoot them often. My uncle has a .22 pistol. I shot it once but didn’t like it. I couldn’t hit a target too well with it, but give me a rifle and I can hit the bull’s-eye every time—well, most every time. Another shot fires. This time it is a pistol. More shots—the rifle then the pistol. I’m scared now because I have no idea who is shooting or why. I fall to the ground and stay real still. I can’t figure out what direction the shots are coming from.

After a period of silence, I get up and start slowly moving down the road. Before I know it, I’m running down the road as fast as I can. I just want to get home. I’ve always been a fast runner. Grandfather said I could hightail it out of anywhere. I think he got that saying from watching the deer run when they are frightened. I stop thinking about the frightened deer when I see Bud. He sees me, too, and motions for me to get down. I fall to the ground again just before Bud yells, Stay down! I hear another rifle crack and then see the bullet hit Bud. Now I’m really frightened. Bud cries, Billy, help me! My fear leaves and anger takes over.

Without thinking, I jump up and race toward him in a zigzag fashion, hoping no one will be able to shoot me. I have seen a lot of cowboy movies, and the good guys never get hurt too bad. They always run in a zigzag and never get shot. I fall on the dirt next to Bud and can see all the blood he is losing. It is oozing from his upper arm.

Help me stop the bleeding, Billy. I think the bullet went through my arm, Bud says. I tear off my shirt and T-shirt and start wrapping his arm. He keeps saying, Billy, you have to stop the blood or I will bleed to death. I wrap his arm as fast and tight as I can with my T-shirt, and then I wrap my shirt around it and tie it hard by the sleeves. Just as I finish, a bullet flies by my head. Bud pulls me to the ground. Now I’m really mad. I pick up Bud’s rifle and peer around to see if I can see who is shooting at us. I can’t see anyone, so I quickly put the rifle back down. Bud says, I was chasing two bank robbers when they jumped out of their car and ran into the woods.

Do you know the robbers? I asked.

No, I didn’t get a good look at them. They’re probably from out of town. No one would rob a bank in their hometown, Bud says. Another shot rings out, and I hear it whistle by our heads. Bud tells me, You are going to have to shoot back, or they may come and shoot us both. Take my rifle, and if you see anything, just shoot at it.

I peep out over the dirt mound and another shot rings out. This time I see the puff of smoke from the shooter’s gun. I slide back behind the dirt mound and tell Bud, I saw him.

Take the shot, Bud says.

I hesitate. I don’t want to shoot anyone.

Just fire several shots in the direction you think the shots were fired. Aim high above the trees.

So I take the rifle and fire several rounds into the area where I had seen the smoke. I aim high because I don’t really want to hit the person. The shots stop. We wait. We’re not shot at again. I whisper to Bud, I guess I scared them off.

Suddenly, we hear a car crank. Bud says, They’ve gotten back to their car. We have to go after them. He tries to get up but falls back down. He is too weak; he’s lost a lot of blood.

I’m really worried about him. Blood has soaked through both shirts. I say, Let them go. Someone will catch them later. I’m going to run home and get Papa to take you to the hospital.

Bud nods and says, Take my car. He hands me his keys.

Bud, I’ve never driven a patrol car before, I say real nervous like.

Bud says, Do it! I run off to the car as fast as I can.

When I get to the house, Papa isn’t there. Mama comes out of the house and asks, What is all the shooting about?

Bud’s been shot. We’ve got to get him to the hospital, I cry.

Mama and Sissy jump in the patrolman’s car with me. When we get back to Bud, he is still awake. As we help Bud into the car, we hear my three brothers running toward us. They must have been playing in the fields and seen us drive by in a rush. Mama tells Sissy to run after them and stop them from seeing Bud like this. She tells Sissy, Billy and I will drive him to the hospital. You just make sure you get those three home and keep them there until we get back. Sissy nods and takes off running.

I’m glad I am the one that got to stay with Mama because she might need help and I worry about her driving home alone in the dark. Once we get to the hospital, they call the police, and I have to tell them everything that happened. I tell the police about Bud chasing the two bank robbers and how one of them shot him. I ask them if Bud is going to be okay. A policeman says, Why don’t you go ask him? He is in the room down the hall. I find Bud in room 108, but he is asleep. I ask the nurse how he is doing. She says he will probably be just fine in a couple of weeks. Many hours later, a policeman drives us home.

It is late, and Mama says she needs to cook supper. I have not even thought about food until she mentions cooking, and all of a sudden, I’m really hungry, especially for Mama’s cooking. It is late when we all gather around the table to eat—everyone but Papa, that is.

Mama and I share the story of the robbers and Bud as we eat. I can’t wait to tell Papa when he finally comes home. He is working in a nearby town where he is helping build houses. Mama says we will keep his food warm until he gets home. Papa is usually home long before it gets this dark. I can tell Mama is beginning to worry, but us kids aren’t worried; we know Papa will be home soon.

Mama and Sissy are in the kitchen cleaning the dishes, my brothers are busy playing one of their games, and I’m by the radio listening to one of my favorite stories. I can’t help but hear Mama and Sissy talking in the kitchen. Right in the middle of one of my favorite radio stories, Mama calls me to the kitchen. I don’t want to, but I go straight away because I know she must have some chore for me to do. I am the oldest, so she depends on me to be the man of the house when Papa isn’t home. I often wonder, Why me? Papa is gone most of the time, even though he is back from the war, so Mama still depends on me a lot.

Son, why do you think your papa is not home by now?

Sissy says, I told her not to worry. Papa has to work late and probably decided to sleep in his car tonight.

I try to reassure Mama. Sissy is right. Or he might have had car trouble or even a flat tire. You know how old that car is, and the tires are bad. Mama doesn’t seem reassured.

Eventually, we all go to bed, settling on the notion that Papa must have a good reason for not coming home.

Morning comes.

I smell breakfast cooking and venture into the kitchen. The smell of country ham, grits, and eggs fills the air. I didn’t realize Papa had not come home until Mama says, I hope your papa gets home tonight. She doesn’t sound worried about it this morning. We enjoy our food and start thinking about our day.

Sissy asks, Mama, can I have a quarter to put in my saving sock?

No, Mama says, but since we are talking money, you can each have a dime to put in the church plate today.

My youngest brother, Charles, exclaims, I bet there is some of that bank robbery money down there where the patrolman was shot. We all giggle.

Mama says, It doesn’t belong to us even if there is.

Everyone says in unison, Yes, we know, Mama.

Russell, the next-youngest brother, roars, Let’s go look for the money! If we find some, maybe we will get a reward. With that, all three of my brothers run out the door.

Mama runs to the back door yelling, You all be back here in time for church!

Mama and Sissy clean the kitchen and then start their long process of dressing for church. It takes them so long every Sunday. My brothers know that they don’t have a lot of time to look for the bank robbery money (or I should say the bank’s money), but they know they have a little time. They arrive at the spot where they had seen us from a distance taking care of Bud.

Bobby, the oldest of the three, says, Let’s spread out and try to walk straight into the woods for about one hundred yards. Look in every hollar tree and for any new ground. The robbers may have dug a hole and buried the money. My brothers were having a good time looking all around in the trees, under piles of leaves, and any place the robbers might have thought was good to hide money.

Suddenly, Russell yells, I think I see something! The other two rush to him as fast as they can through the thick brush. When they get close enough, Russell says, Look over there, it looks like a pair of pants! They are so excited, but they slowly walk toward whatever is lying next to a tall tree. They see something they did not want to see—a foot, a hand.

It’s a man, whispers Charles. He must be dead. When they look at the dead man’s face, they see Papa.

Papa! Papa! They start yelling at him, trying to wake him. Papa! Papa! they yell over and over again. Papa! Papa! Wake up! His body is ice-cold, and they know he is dead but just can’t accept it.

Russell turns to Bobby. He can’t be dead. He’s just sleeping, right?

Fear and sadness overtake them as they keep yelling through their tears for Papa to wake up.

Go get, Billy, Bobby says to Russell. Tell him we found Papa and he’s been shot. There is a big hole in his head. Billy will know what to do.

Russell jumps up and runs as fast as he can to get me. Charles jumps up and starts following Russell. Bobby is left alone with Papa. He is on his knees, holding Papa’s hand, and crying.

When my two brothers reach the house, they are yelling, Billy, Billy, come quick! I think they must have found the bank robbers’ money because they sound so excited. I come flying out of the door all dressed for Sunday church. The look on their faces turns me cold. They are crying, and I can tell they are scared to death. What is wrong? I ask.

We found Papa, they cry.

What do you mean you found Papa? Then why are you crying?

Papa’s dead, Russell cries. Papa’s dead. He starts pulling on my arm as Charles cries, Hurry! Hurry!

Mama and Sissy hear the commotion and come running. Charles looks at Mama then down to the ground and says, Papa is dead in the woods.

Mama gasps and says, What do you mean Papa is dead? The fear and sadness on their faces tell her everything, and she starts crying. Where is your papa? Take me to him. She turns to Sissy and says, Get the car keys. She forgot we don’t have the car; Papa does. I can’t wait; I start running. Russell starts running after me as fast as he can, but Charles stays with Mama and Sissy. When I reach the spot where I had helped Bud yesterday, I start calling out to Bobby, Where are you?

I hear Bobby yelling, Over here!

Running like a bullet through the woods, I keep calling, Where? I keep following the sound of Bobby’s voice. As soon as I see Papa’s face, I fall down on him, crying, No! No! No, Papa! We need you! My heart is breaking, and I burst into tears. Bobby and I just sit there holding each other and crying. We cannot comprehend that Papa is gone.

My head starts banging like someone is playing a drum inside it. I can’t think. It is like my mind has just shut down. Bobby seems to be feeling the same thing—unable to think or move. We don’t move until we hear the others calling for us and moving our way through the brush. I get up to go to them, and when I get to Sissy, I say, It’s Papa. He’s dead.

Sissy looks at me with disbelief and says, It can’t be true.

I put my arm around her and say, Come see for yourself. Sissy takes my hand, and I slowly lead her over to Papa.

No! No! she cries. Why? Why? I take my shirt off and lay it over Papa’s face because I realize Mama will be here soon and I don’t want her to see how part of his head is blown off. If I cover the worst of his face, showing just enough, maybe it won’t hurt her so bad. I hear Mama and Charles fast approaching. Mama is crying, Where is he? Where is he?

Sissy says, Over here, Mama! and goes to her side. Mama looks at Papa, falls down on her knees beside him, and weeps. She weeps like I’ve never heard before. Finally, Mama says, Let me see his face. I pull my shirt off his face just enough, still trying to cover the worst. Mama stares and cries, My husband, my husband. What has someone done to you?

All of us gather around Papa, each in our own sadness. How long we sit there, I do not know. Finally, Mama says, We have to get the sheriff. She turns to me, Son, will you take care of what we need to do? I nod. She says, I am going back to the house.

Sissy says, I’m coming with you Mama. They walk away very slowly through the woods, up to the road, and on to our home.

My head is still throbbing, and I try real hard to think clearly; but it is so hard to think. I ask my brothers, Which one of you will go to Bud’s house and tell his father to call the sheriff?

Bobby says, I’ll get the sheriff.

I turn to Russell and say, Will you go to our neighbor’s house and tell them what has happened? Russell and Charles say they will go together. I tell them to hurry and that I will stay with Papa until they come back. I want to keep the wild animals away from Papa. I tell Russell and Charles to bring a sheet back from the house when they return so we can cover Papa’s body.

After everyone leaves, I sit down beside Papa with my back against the tree trunk and weep. My thoughts drift back to the day Papa left to enter the Army. My heart hurt so bad back then as I watched him leave, knowing it would be a long time before I saw him again. I remember wondering if I would ever see him again. Every time he came home during his time in the service, we would be so excited. But every time he left to go back to camp, we would be so sad. Papa had come back to us after the war, but now he was gone for good.

After a long, long wait, I hear the sound of the police car coming up the road. The siren can be heard for miles. I know it is headed out to our house. My brothers come back with a sheet. Russell hands it to me and says, I will help you cover Papa. As we finish covering him, I hear the sheriff’s car stop beside the main road.

I tell my brothers, I’m going to go get the sheriff and bring him back.

But Russell says, No. You stay here. We’ll go. In a few minutes, the sheriff, the coroner, my brothers, and two other men come walking toward me.

The sheriff says, Boys, you all need to go home now. I’ll talk to you later at your house, but for now you need to go to your mama. I don’t want to leave Papa, but I do what the sheriff says.

When my brothers and I get to the house, several neighbors are there helping Mama and Sissy. I want to see Mama and just be with her at this time. I find her lying in her bed. She is weeping while one of our neighbors sits close by her. One neighbor tells me she has already sent for the doctor in case Mama needs some kind of medicine. Old Sport, our black-and-white hound dog is lying on the floor next to the bed. He is never allowed in the house, but he is there now at her side. They tried to keep him out, but they couldn’t. I guess Old Sport knows what has happened. He was supposed to be my dog, but I think he was more Papa’s dog. I will never know what he is thinking, but he has the saddest eyes. I go over to him and sit down beside him. He lays his head across my legs and groans.

Sissy walks into the room with my brothers and asks the neighbor ladies to leave for a while because the family wants to be alone for a few minutes. After the last neighbor leaves, we all sit in silence. No one says a word. Sometime later, a knock comes at the bedroom door.

Sissy opens the door to find the doctor. He tells us how sorry he is and asks to see Mama. He listens to her heart and takes her blood pressure. He asks Sissy to get a glass of water. When she returns, the doctor gives Sissy a bottle with some white pills in it. He asks Sissy to give Mama two tablets now, two tomorrow, and two the next day. I don’t know what kind of pills they are, but if the doctor says to take them, then Mama probably should. She trusts the doctor.

The doctor looks at Mama and says, Take the pills for at least the next three days. It will help you get through these days of sadness. Mama just nods. Before he leaves, he looks around the room at all of us and says, Take care of each other the best you can and send for me if you need me.

The ritual of the funeral process starts tonight. All the neighbors are coming by to offer their condolences. Most of them bring food. Some chat with Mama and others talk to us kids. Papa’s mom and dad walk in the house, and it is real hard to see them crying. Papa’s brothers and sisters start showing up late into the night. The coroner comes to pay his respects and says he will talk privately with Mama about funeral arrangements tomorrow morning. I hear him tell Mama he will go over the details of Papa’s death after the funeral is over and all the guests have left. Then sheriff drops by and assures us he and his deputy are gathering as many facts about Papa’s death as possible and that once they have enough information, they will prepare a report. He says, I have my deputies out even now investigating the crime scene and asking folks if they heard or saw anything. Finally, the house grows empty and we all find our beds for the night.

I wake up sad, realizing today is the day of Papa’s funeral. I don’t think I’m going to make it through the day. I wonder how Mama is going to make it. My head has never stopped pounding with that bass drum inside it since the first time I saw Papa lying there. The funeral comes and goes. All day we are surrounded by family and friends. I think they really are helping us make it through the day. I see Grandfather and Grandmother sitting on the couch holding hands. I wonder how they are getting along. I lost my papa, but they lost their son. Then I start wondering about his brothers and sisters and try to imagine if I lost Bobby, Russell, Charles, or Sissy. It’s like I start feeling everybody’s hurt all at once, and my hurt gets so bad it somehow turns into anger. I like the angry feeling better than the sad feeling for some reason. The angrier I get, the less I hurt. I let the anger grow and take over my body. I realize I’m really tired, but the pounding in my head has finally stopped.

When my head hits the pillow, I think I hear Papa say, Sleep, son. I am fine. I roll over on my side and cry myself to sleep. When I am quiet enough, I can hear sobs coming from all over the house. It is a sad night. Even Old Sport is howling outside. I hear Sissy get up and let him in the house. I find a little comfort knowing we are all in the house together now.

Chapter 2

By the time I get out of bed, Mama and Sissy are already cooking breakfast in the kitchen. Old Sport is lying by the stove. Mama comes straight to me and hugs me tight. Go wake your brothers. Breakfast is almost ready, she says.

The table is full of food the neighbors brought over the past few days. As soon as I finish eating, I get up