Justin and the Best Biscuits in the World Read online

  Mildred Pitts Walter

  Justin and the Best Biscuits in the World

  With illustrations by Catherine Stock

  This book is dedicated to

  Franklin Folsom and Paul Stewart

  who have done much to preserve and gain respect

  for true Western history and Western lore.

  Contents

  1. Justin is Grounded

  2. Women’s Work

  3. Grandpa Arrives

  4. A Visit to Q-T Ranch

  5. Making a Bed is Easy

  6. Riding Fence

  7. About Black Cowboys

  8. The Exodusters

  9. Arrival in Missouri

  10. At Last, the Festival

  11. Rodeo Time

  12. Justin’s Triumph

  Extras

  About the Author

  Other Books by Mildred Pitts Walter

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  1

  JUSTIN IS GROUNDED

  THE BALL HIT the board and rolled around the rim of the basket. Justin reached his tallest, caught it on the rebound, and tipped it in.

  “My win,” Justin said to his friend Anthony. Surprised and pleased he had at last won, Justin said, “Let’s play another game.”

  “I gotta get home, but tomorrow, OK?”

  “Let’s come early.”

  “I’ll pick you up,” Anthony said.

  Justin still wanted to play one-on-one, his favorite basketball game, but there was no one left to challenge him. The playground was emptying fast. Only a few girls were scattered about. Some played jump rope. Others played tetherball.

  He watched the rope jumpers and had an urge to get into their game. His sudden, untimed move broke the rhythm. One girl threw down the rope and chased Justin, shouting, “You better stay out of our game!”

  Justin ran fast, laughing at her. The girl soon gave up and went back to turn the rope for her friends. Justin returned to the basketball court. He zigzagged, dribbling the ball. Then he tried making long shots and missed them all. At the free-throw line he tossed twice and missed. Disgusted, he dribbled around the court again.

  The August sun moved far westward. Rolling hills in the distance cast shadowy shades of purple. The playground was now quiet, deserted. Justin tossed for the basket. He hit. He tossed two more perfect shots and decided it was time to leave.

  He walked along the tree-lined streets between rows of sturdy wood frame houses, wishing he didn’t have to go home. Not yet. If only he had brothers; one brother, anyway. Somebody to help him control Evelyn, his older sister.

  He turned the corner onto his block. Their car was in the driveway. His mother was already home. He hadn’t known it was that late. Hadiya, his younger sister, strained under bags of groceries as she removed them from the car. That was his job. The one thing he did well enough around the house to win praise and approval. He needed to be home. He started running.

  There was much talk, a lot of hustle and bustle inside. That old feeling of being left out came over him. He waited in the hallway just outside the kitchen door, listening.

  “Oh, Mama, you didn’t,” Evelyn shouted.

  “Oh, but I did. I had a wonderful sale today, and that means a big bonus.”

  “Oh, great,” Hadiya said, happily. “Now I can get my bicycle fixed.”

  His mama and two sisters all talked at the same time. When he finally walked in, everything stopped. Dead silence. All eyes turned on him.

  “So?” he asked, not waiting for them to question where he had been, why he was late. He glanced at Hadiya and was tempted to return her smile, but turned away instead.

  “So it’s about time you got home,” Evelyn said. She took charge while their mama worked each day.

  Justin spread his legs as if to take a firm stand. He hated Evelyn being the boss. He stared ahead and said nothing.

  “See how he acts, Mama,” Evelyn said. “He’s that way all the time.”

  “Aw, Evelyn,” Hadiya said, to protect Justin.

  He liked Hadiya. Everyone said they looked alike: both dark, tall, and thin. Hadiya, two years older than Justin and three years younger than Evelyn, was the tallest. At ten years old, Justin was already almost as tall as Evelyn.

  Evelyn went on, “He gets in here just before you every day, Mama. And he does nothing around here.”

  Justin lowered his eyes but still said nothing.

  “And you ought to see his room. Like Grandpa’s pig pen,” Evelyn said.

  Hadiya giggled. Justin cut his eyes on her. She retreated to set the table.

  Finally Mama said, “Justin, where have you been?”

  “At the playground,” he answered.

  “Every day, Mama. That’s all he does.”

  “All right, Evelyn. I’ll handle it,” Mama said.

  “But you always say you’ll handle it and Justin gets away with murder,” Evelyn said.

  “That’s enough, Evelyn.” Mama increased her firmness.

  Justin smiled inside, glad his mother had rescued him as she always did. He looked at Evelyn as if to say, You know I’m her favorite. Then he felt put out with himself for getting home too late to help with the groceries. He had let his mother down. He waited for her to say something about his being late.

  His mama said nothing as she took lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and sprouts from the refrigerator to make a salad for dinner. Justin still waited. Finally she said, “Go wash up.”

  On Tuesdays they had Justin’s favorite dinner: pizza. At the dining table everyone seemed pleasant. Hadiya talked about a new recipe she just had to try. Justin thought he had weathered the storm when Evelyn offered him half her share of pizza because she was starting a new diet. And he knew things were back to normal when Hadiya offered to do the dishes. They all knew she wanted the kitchen to begin her messy cooking experiments.

  Mama had other plans. “No, Hadiya, not tonight. Justin is going to do the dishes.”

  Justin looked at his mother and smiled shyly. Now he could make up for being late.

  “Oh, no!” Evelyn cried. “Mama, you know he’ll do nothing but make a mess that I’ll have to clean up.”

  Justin flared with anger, knowing that Evelyn always complained about his using too much soap, about his not rinsing dishes well and splashing water all over. “Aw, shut up!” he shouted. “Who can’t wash dishes?”

  “You!” Evelyn retorted. “We’ll be tasting soap for days.”

  “Evelyn!” Mama said with quiet force. “Leave him alone. He has to learn. And, Justin, tomorrow I want you home so you can clean your room. Papa is coming.”

  “Grandpa’s coming?” Justin jumped up from the table. “Wow! When?” Grandpa was his favorite person.

  “Yes. Tomorrow, and I want your room clean. I want you to help Evelyn, too. You do whatever she tells you.”

  Justin glanced at Evelyn whose eyes fastened on him, sizing him up. He felt trapped, grounded. How would he ever get away with Anthony to play one-on-one? Moving slowly, taking his time, he cleared the table. As he let hot water run over the dishes, he thought, Wish I could go live with Grandpa.

  2

  WOMEN’S WORK

  JUSTIN WOKE EARLY. He had to clean his room and be ready when Anthony came by. If he cleaned up, then maybe Evelyn would let him go to the playground.

  He looked about his room and decided there was no way he could be through by the time Anthony came. Suddenly he had an idea.

  Justin knew Evelyn’s one weakness: she liked to sleep late. In a very quiet house she might sleep all morning. With her asleep, he could slip aw
ay and play one-on-one with Anthony for an hour, at least.

  First he took the phone off the hook. Suddenly he realized he had better catch Hadiya before she went into the kitchen and started banging around doing her experiments. He knew she liked reading in her room almost as much as she liked cooking. Especially if the books were about magic.

  Luckily on his recent visit to the library he had checked out some books on just that subject. Now armed with those books on magic, he knocked on Hadiya’s door.

  She was already dressed. “Now what?” she asked as she opened the door.

  “Can I come in?”

  Seeing the books, she said, “No, you can’t read in my room today.”

  He smiled. He liked reading in her room better than anywhere else in the house. She had a place for everything and everything was in its place. Her bed was always smoothly made. Her room reeked with order.

  “I’m not here to read in your room,” he said proudly. “You want these books?”

  She looked at him suspiciously. “What do you want, Justin?”

  He laughed. “Nothing. Here, girl. Read.” He shoved the books at her.

  She took them and quickly closed her door. He sighed, relieved.

  Now with quiet assured, Evelyn would stay asleep and he could slip away to the playground. Softly, quickly, he went past her room down the hall. Just as he was almost to the door, the doorbell rang. “Oh, no!” he muttered. Who’s so stupid, hanging on the doorbell, he thought. He raced to check.

  “Anthony! Why you ringing the bell, man?”

  “I wanted you to know I’m here.”

  “Sh, sh, sh!” Justin said.

  “What’s wrong?” Anthony wanted to know.

  “I’m grounded. I think I can slip away, though. For a little while.”

  “Justin,” Evelyn called. “Who is it?”

  “Aw, shucks! She’s alive. C’mon in.” He shouted to Evelyn, “It’s my friend.”

  “You know what Mama said,” Evelyn called.

  “You know what Mama said,” he mimicked her under his breath to Anthony. Then he shouted, “I ain’t going nowhere.”

  “You can’t go to the playground?” Anthony asked.

  “I told you I’m grounded. My grandpa’s coming. Got to clean my room. C’mon.”

  With Anthony he felt comfortable even though his room was messy. The bed, though made, was lumpy. Covers showed beneath the bedspread. His closet door stood ajar. Clothes, more off hangers than on, were wedged together. Socks, balls, clothes hangers, and some T-shirts were scattered over the floor. Quickly he closed the closet door and said, “Sit down, man.”

  Anthony removed clothing from the chair and sat. Any other time Justin would not have been any more aware of his room than Anthony seemed now. But Justin was uneasy, ashamed, remembering the talk last night. Like Grandpa’s pig pen flashed into his mind. “Sisters,” he blurted out. “Git on your nerves, man.”

  “I don’t have any sisters,” Anthony said as though he liked it that way. “But my mama and my grandma get on me. Wanting me to do their work.”

  “Yeah. Washing dishes, cleaning up, folding clothes.”

  “All that old stuff. Women’s work. I hate it,” Anthony said.

  Justin heard Evelyn in her room. He knew those sounds of making the bed, straightening up. “They waste a lot of time cleaning, don’t they?” he said. “And so many other things in the world to do.” His foot shuffled a basketball left in the middle of the floor. “Let’s play some one-on-one here,” he said to Anthony.

  Evelyn walked from her room just as they started out with the ball. “Where you think you’re going?”

  “Out,” Justin replied.

  “You had better get busy cleaning your room.”

  “Aw, c’mon, Evelyn! I got all day to clean.” He and Anthony went to the backyard. Justin’s father had put up a basketball net on the garage only months before he had been killed in an automobile accident. That had been four years ago when Justin was six years old. Justin still remembered playing one-on-one with his father. At first, when his father died, Justin couldn’t play one-on-one at all because of a lonely heaviness in his chest. But now he hardly remembered anything except the fun he had had playing with his dad.

  Justin played basketball with a lot of zest. However, Anthony, though shorter than Justin by almost three inches, was the better player. Justin jumped higher than Anthony, but Justin did not move as fast, nor did he keep as sharp an eye on the basket.

  The sun shone hot, but they played hard and fast with Justin forgetting he had work to do.

  Finally, exhausted, they took time out to get a cool drink from the water hose. Before the game started again, Evelyn bounded outside with her quick stride. “Play you both one-on-one,” she challenged them.

  “You mean one-on-two,” Justin said, bouncing the ball.

  “I’ll beat both of you is what I mean,” she said, and moved in on Justin, who still had the ball.

  Evelyn was a fast, aggressive player. The two boys played as hard and as well as they knew how, but she still outscored them.

  Finally she said, “Enough. Anthony, you go home now so Justin can do his work.”

  “You can’t tell my friend what to do,” Justin said.

  “Then I’ll tell you. You had better come in and do your work.” Evelyn went inside.

  “C’mon, Anthony, we don’t have to do what she says.” They started another game.

  Evelyn shouted to Justin, “You want me to call Mama on the phone? You know what she told you last night.”

  Justin fumed with anger. “You’d better not.” He knew they must never disturb their mother at the shop where she worked framing paintings and selling frames and artwork. Only for the most important things did they call.

  “Listen, Anthony,” he said, embarrassed. “I gotta go in and clean up.”

  “Want me to help?”

  “Can you?” Justin asked, putting his hands on Anthony’s shoulders. He knew he needed someone to help him get that room straight. He didn’t want to ask Hadiya, and he wasn’t about to let Evelyn know it was all beyond his skills. Maybe he and Anthony, together, could find a way to make his room neater. Maybe his bed could look as smooth and his closet as organized as Hadiya’s. He even felt excited about that possibility.

  For a moment they stood in the middle of the room. Anthony looked around. “You do need help,” he said.

  They began by stripping all the covers off the bed. They stumbled over each other as they tugged and pulled at the sheets and light blanket. They worked and worked.

  Finally Anthony said, “Is that good?”

  Justin thought of Hadiya’s bed and felt that his did not look the way he had hoped it would. He tried again to tuck the sheets and blanket underneath the bedspread. He patted the pillow. Though he knew the bed looked even worse than before, he sighed and said, “Yeah, it’s OK. Fine. Now let’s do the closet.”

  “When my grandma helps me clean my room, she makes me take everything out of the closet. You better get a broom,” Anthony said.

  When Justin returned with the broom, all the clothes from the closet were piled on his bed. Shoes, socks, balls, even games he had stored in back of his closet were strewn about the room.

  Anthony doesn’t know any more than I do about getting closets neat, Justin thought.

  He got busy sweeping the closet floor, wondering how he would ever get all that stuff put away before Grandpa came.

  It was well past lunchtime and they had only half of the things back in place. Exhausted and starving, Justin finally decided that his room looked no better than at first. And with the balls, socks, and extra clothes hangers strewn about outside the closet, maybe it looked even worse. He jabbed his hands into his pockets and sighed. Why couldn’t he get his room straight?

  His mind flashed to Hadiya’s room. Neat as a pin. Evelyn was not fussy as Hadiya, but her room was far neater than Justin now thought his would ever be.

  He looked
at Anthony sitting on the lumpy bed, with his elbows on his knees, his hands cupping his face.

  “Let’s stop now and get some lunch.”

  Anthony quickly said, “I gotta go home now.”

  Justin suddenly knew that Anthony had to be feeling as exhausted, frustrated, and disappointed as he was. He remembered Anthony’s words about women’s work. Maybe this is work that only women and girls can do, he thought, and went to see Anthony out. “We’ll play tomorrow, OK?” he said.

  “I can’t. We’re going away for the weekend. My family.”

  Justin said goodbye and went to the kitchen to find something to eat.

  3

  GRANDPA ARRIVES

  HE FOUND HADIYA in the kitchen. Whatever she was cooking smelled delicious. For a twelve-year-old, she cooks good, he thought. She should. She lived in the kitchen, forever stirring up something.

  “How come you always in the kitchen?” he asked as he fixed himself a bowl of cereal.

  “I guess because I like magic.”

  “What’s magic got to do with it?”

  “Well, see, when I put dough in the oven, what do I take out? Cake! And when I put milk, eggs, sugar, and vanilla in a pot—add a little heat—presto! Pudding.”

  After he had downed two bowls of cereal and a peanut butter sandwich, he was still hungry. “M-mm-m, that smells good, Hadiya. What is it?”

  Pleased, she said, “Want a taste?”

  He licked the spoon. Lemon-flavored something. Only Hadiya knew what. Justin only knew it tasted good, and he wanted more.

  “No,” she said. “That’s for dessert tonight. Grandpa’s coming, remember?”

  Justin knew he had to have something else to eat. “How about making me an egg?” he asked Hadiya.

  “I’m through in the kitchen now. You can make your own egg.”