The Stones of Summer

By Jim Black

It’s the summer of 1969 in the tiny West Texas town of Penny. Meg Hawes is making college plans while her boyfriend, Bobby Hargrove, and his best friend, Dilly Binzwanger, enjoy a three-month reprieve from Pirate head football coach Jack Stoner. For Dilly, it’s a summer of firsts as he lands a job, a set of wheels and a date. Things couldn't be going better for the three friends until a brief encounter with the town recluse sets in motion a series of events that will not only define their summer—but who they are as well. Count on laughs and tears aplenty in this funny and touching sequel to The Football Hero. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Outskirts Press
• Release date: Apr 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9781977273680

Jim Black

A lifelong Texan, Jim Black was born in Center, Texas, and grew up in Archer City. Today he resides in Wichita Falls with his wife, Lorrie. He is the author of several books and plays. For more information visit www.jimblackbooks.com.

Book preview

Chapter 1

DURING HER SENIOR year, in addition to being Drum Major, Meg Hawes was voted Homecoming Queen, School Beauty and Miss Penny High School. Petite and beautiful with short blonde hair, she could have had any boy in school. Despite the fact I was two grades below her, she chose me. My name is Bobby Hargrove. Besides having the prettiest and sweetest girl in Penny, Texas, as my steady in 1969, I also had the best friend a guy could ever hope for. Dilly Binzwanger may have been short, walked with a limp, wore crazy thick glasses and acted differently from others our age, but I wouldn’t have traded him for the world.

School had been out for a week, and he and I were sitting in our usual booth at Bob’s Burger Barn, enjoying supper when he paused from eating and asked, How tall are you?

I don’t know. A little over five feet seven I think.

How much you weigh?

One fifty. One fifty-five. Something like that. Why?

Think I’ll ever be that big?

I don’t know, Dilly. Maybe. You still have time. What’s the hurry?

We’re fixin’ to be juniors in high school and I’m still shorter than every girl in our class.

So?

Never mind. Just forget it. Hey, did ya hear that the booster club ordered the sign?

What sign? I asked.

The sign for the town square! So people comin’ from any direction can see it when they pass through. Everybody’s gonna know the Penny Pirates are state champions—if they don’t already.

Cool. I’ve seen those signs in other towns. I sure never thought we’d have one.

They oughta put your picture on it.

Yeah, right.

"I’m serious. No way do we win it without you. You just had the best season of any quarterback ever. And, you only played in half the games. How crazy is that?"

Pretty crazy.

I’m serious. Maybe somebody’ll make a movie about you. They should.

Will you stop that? I’m only one of eleven players. Remember? Actually, one of twenty-two. And one guy doesn’t win a state championship by himself.

You did.

I was about to get really frustrated with Dilly when owner and head cook, Bob Walcott, walked over.

Need anything, fellas?

No sir, I said. We’re good. Food’s great.

Guess y’all heard the sign’s been ordered.

Yes sir, I replied. Dilly was just telling me about it.

Bob nodded and said, They oughta put your picture on it, Bobby.

Dilly kicked me hard under the table and smiled.

That’s nice of you to say, Mr. Walcott, but I had lots of help.

Well, maybe Coach Stoner will let you call your own plays this year. If he’s got a lick of sense he will.

He don’t, said Dilly. Never has had and never will.

Bob smiled. What makes you say that, Dilly?

Cause he’s a dipshit, that’s why.

I glared at Dilly, but Bob chuckled and said, Let me know if I can get you fellas anything. And he walked away. Still smiling.

Changin’ the subject, have you and Meg got things figured out yet?

What things?

Her going to college. How’s that gonna work? And what if she meets some good lookin’ college guy? You ever think about that?

I haven’t given it any thought, I said. She and I haven’t talked about it yet. But we will. Satisfied? How about we talk about you for a while? Did I hear you say you got a job for the summer?

Yep. Gonna be haulin’ hay for J.T. White. Me and the Jackson twins.

That’s cool. Mr. White is really nice. But I thought you didn’t like Timmy and Tommy?

I don’t. They’re a couple of nitwits. They also don’t have the best hygiene. But I didn’t do the hirin’ so there’s not much I can do about it. Hopefully they’ll quit and he’ll hire somebody worth a flip.

I bet it’ll work out, I said.

Maybe. Now, what say we finish eatin’, grab a shake on the way out, climb in that cool car of yours and hit the road? I’m itchin’ to find out what this summer’s got in store for us. I got a feelin’ this one’s gonna be special.

If we only knew.

Chapter 2

THAT EVENING WHILE her dad cooked steaks on the grill, Meg and I watched. The rest of her family was indoors where it was cool. Her mom Joan and older sister Hannah were getting the rest of the food ready while Donnie set the table. Donnie was a year younger than me and a good guy, but we didn’t pal around together.

The Hawes’ house sat a ways off the highway a few miles south of town. Their nearest neighbor was a mile away. The ranch wasn’t a big one—just a little over a hundred acres where Bill Hawes kept a few cattle and planted whatever he was in the mood for. By the time he turned thirty, he’d grown tired of the accounting firm he worked for in Lubbock, not to mention the commute; so with Joan’s blessing he took their savings and a bank loan and purchased what would become the Lazy B Ranch.

Bill’s homemade smoker/barbecue grill was set up beneath a metal canopy he and his son Donnie had fashioned from leftover scrap metal. The steaks smelled fantastic. Eventually I turned my gaze from him to the surrounding landscape. Flat as it is, West Texas isn’t much to look at, but for some reason I always found the view comforting.

How do you like your steak, Bobby? he asked, swatting a fly away.

Medium, please. I said.

He turned and frowned at me. In other words, cook some of the flavor out of it but not all of it?

I looked at Meg. She smiled.

Daddy thinks anyone who doesn’t like their steaks rare is off their rocker, remember?

How do you like yours? I asked.

Medium, she smiled.

We both laughed as Bill said, What can I say? I teach my kids the important things in life as best I know how, and sometimes it just don’t stick. That one there even likes yellow coffee.

Another smile. Cream and sugar, she said.

So do I.

"Good lord. Joan! Best get out here! These two are gonna drive me to drinkin’."

Meg’s mom walked out, smiling. What is it, honey? Can’t be that bad.

I guess the good news is Meg’s finally found someone who’ll put up with her strange ways.

And the bad news?

I got a feeling her boyfriend’s about to ruin this fine piece of meat with steak sauce.

Maybe not. You don’t know. She turned and looked at me.

Do you have Heinz 57? I asked.

We all laughed long and hard. Finally Bill turned and waved his spatula at me.

You’re just lucky you brought this town a state championship, or I’d already have sent you packing.

Joan swatted him on the arm. Oh hush, Bill. Come on, let’s eat.

He gave her a smile and a wink, placed the steaks on a platter and headed for the back door. Meg goosed me hard and we followed them in.

Once we were seated and everyone had their plates filled, Joan passed me the Heinz 57 with a smile. Following a brief prayer by Donnie, we all dug into our ribeyes, salad and baked potatoes. It was delicious.

What’s the outlook for the team next season, Bobby? Have any idea? You did lose some good players to graduation.

Bill, must we talk about football? Joan asked. Bobby might want to enjoy his time off from it.

I just want to know what kind of team we’re going to have next year. ‘Sides, Bobby doesn’t mind, do you?

No sir. I said. And to answer your question, losing our fullback Jackie hurts, but Johnny and Tommy are both coming back. And Danny will step in at fullback and do great I think. And of course, Rusty won’t be back, but Larry Koontz is raring to go and we all know what he did in the championship game. Losing Haig, Ralph and Big Mike off the offensive line will be tough though. They were outstanding blockers.

Well, I can’t wait, Bill said. If you can work half the magic you did last season, we’ll be okay.

It doesn’t all hinge on Bobby, Daddy, Hannah chimed. Two years into Texas Tech, Meg’s beautiful and smart older sister was just like her. Only taller.

Hannah’s right, Joan added. Let’s not put too much pressure on poor Bobby, dear.

Hogwash. Champions eat that stuff up, Bill replied. Now pass that steak sauce over here. I somehow managed to overcook my meat a bit.

Everyone laughed and we then settled into a discussion of whether Donnie would see much playing time his sophomore year. Sadly, I didn’t think so but didn’t let that be known. I didn’t want to spoil a perfectly good evening.

When it was done, Meg walked me to my green and white ‘56 Ford Fairlane where we shared a brief kiss and hug. As I hit the road, I turned up the radio and listened to José Feliciano singing Light My Fire.

My fire was lit and had been for some time now.

Chapter 3

AS HAD BEEN our habit for several years now, Dilly came to supper at our house at 6:00 P.M. on Wednesday. I was waiting for him on the front porch when he walked up. Dilly walked everywhere in hopes the exercise would strengthen his bad leg. And because he had no other mode of transportation.

What’s up? he asked.

I want to show you something, I said, walking over to my car. I opened the driver’s door and he peered in and spotted my new Ranger eight-track tape player. Two wedge speakers sat on the rear deck.

Cool! When’d you get that?

A couple of days ago in Littlefield. Just finished putting it in.

Got any tapes?

Three. They’re in the glovebox. Johnny Rivers, Creedence and the Grass Roots.

No Tommy James and the Shondells?

Not yet. But I’ll get one, don’t you worry. Let’s go eat.

I love it, he said.

Upon entering, he sniffed the air, smiled and said, Is that fried chicken?

I nodded.

Hot dog! Your mom makes the best fried chicken on the planet.

Why, thank you, Dilly, she said, entering from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Mashed potatoes and gravy okay? And cherry pie?

"Mrs. Hargrove, when I die I wanna come here. Just burn me up, put my ashes in somethin’ and set me somewhere I can smell your cookin’. No way Heaven can top that."

We all laughed and Dilly and I took our seats at the small dining table. Sometimes Meg joined us but not usually. She wanted this to remain mine and Dilly’s special night. As was her custom, Mom set the food on the table, poured our sweet tea, asked if we needed anything else and then left for the living room. We dug in. It was a minute or two before either of us spoke.

So how’s your new job going? I asked. You like hauling hay?

I quit.

What? Already?

Yep.

Was it that bad?

"It’s okay if you like workin’ in a oven