Read Online Every Boy Should Have a Man by Preston L. Allen - Free Book Online

the house. He will have to stay out in the yard . My mother had a queer, sad look on her face, and she said to me somberly, He will be safe in the yard . Then she commanded me to take a nap and I did, and when I awoke from the nap, it was time for supper. I ran to the window to see my man in the yard, but could not. Well, it was a big yard. I would go out after supper and we would continue our play. So I ate my meat soup with grains that was set before me and thought nothing more of it. Afterward I ran back to the door, and my mother stopped me. Where are you going ? she asked. To play with my man , said I. And my mother had tears in her eyes as she explained what had been done. The friend of my dead father had a great appetite for man, but they were scarce and dangerously feral in that part of the earth and thus expensively sold by the trappers and hunters. But a feral man made a pet of by a boy dwelling on his property? Indeed, it was his property, as was every beast living on it. He considered the gift of the quarter portion of Fat One that he had given us to make our soup quite a grand gesture on his part. My mother warned me that if I hoped to avoid sadness, I was never to bring home another man until our situation was improved or until the friend of my dead father had made of her a wife. The warning was unnecessary, for my stomach had already been forever turned.”
    The father, having finished his story, sighed and went into the house.
    The boy, disturbed but undeterred by his father’s story, hefted his mallet and resumed his hammering of nails.
     
    * * *
     
    When the boy arrived at his wealthy friend’s house, only the wealthy father was at home and he bid him come in. They passed through the great house and to the back where the proper kennels were set up. Her kennel door was already open, and the boy reached inside and she came to him. She was pretty with her red hair in bright green hair cloths and her loins covered by a green pouch.
    As he leashed her, he said, “You’re going to live with me now.”
    She answered, “Yes, they told me.”
    The look on her face was not exactly joy, and he said to her, “You don’t want to come live with me? You don’t like me?”
    “I like you very much. I guess it will be okay.”
    The boy glanced up at the wealthy father, who shrugged, and then he said to the little female man, “I thought you liked me.”
    “I like you just fine.”
    “But . . .”
    “But that place is where my mother died.”
    “I liked your mother very much,” he said.
    “Yes, they told me. But you’re very poor. Will I be able to eat every day?”
    The poor boy flinched.
    The wealthy boy’s father smiled.
    “Yes,” the poor boy insisted, “we have food enough for you,” though he knew there would not always be food enough for themselves. “You will eat every day. I am working at the mill to make sure that you are well fed. You will eat better than we do. Does that answer all your questions, little man?”
    “Okay, I guess.”
    “What now?”
    “Instruments.”
    “We have a small singing harp.”
    He saw the look on her face. One small singing harp?
    He said, “It’s the one your mother used to play . . . and I will work to purchase new instruments for you. In time you will come to own every instrument that exists. I promise.”
    It was a promise they all knew he could not keep, so the wealthy boy’s father added, “And what he does not own, he is free to borrow from me.”
    She nodded at that, but the look on her face . . .
    “What now?”
    “Nothing.”
    “What? Tell me,” the poor boy said.
    The red-haired female man hid her face in her hands.
    “What?” he said. “What?”
    She blushed. “Well, it’s just that I have someone here that I like. Will I be able to see him from time to time?”
    “No!” said the boy.
    The wealthy father shook his head. “No man mans for you. That’s why we’re sending you away. We’re sending you away to keep you out of trouble.