The Bridge

The Bridge
By Donald Jones

The woods were about a half of a mile away from where I lived as a teenager. When I was thirteen I went to the wood one Saturday as I often did. Tommy Green, one of my best friends had joined me on that morning. There was a large branch that went down the center of the woods and made it difficult to get to the other side of the woods. This was one reason why a moon shiner would some time use this location to sit up his still. One year I decided to cross this bank and found bullets whizzing past my ear. I took off in a run I did not know was possible, up one side of the hill back home. A few days later he had moved it to another location. He probably did not like someone getting to close to his still, and feared he would be discovered by the sheriff.

My friend and I decided that we were going to build a foot bridge across the branch. There was a lot of small trees in the area left over from loggers who had been cutting trees in the area. The little trees were in the way of there trucks so they just cut them down and cleared them out of their path. We finished the bridge, after we spent the better part of a the morning working on it. We were proud of the job and thought we would rest and break for our lunch we had brought along.

While we were eating, we heard footsteps in the woods. It was easy to hear some one coming through the leaves and branches. We waited and watch to see who it was. We new the owner of the land, and had permission to be there, so we thought it might be him. Momentarily the mystery was revealed. Gerald, a fat bully who made every one miserable when he was around. He especially wanted to try and beat me up. Fortune had been on my side when it came to bullies. I stayed away from where they were. No matter how hard you try sometimes they will come looking for you anyway.

He came just to start something. He started first making fun of the bridge. “Who do you think you are Davy Crockett?” he laughed. Then he began to destroy the bridge. Gerald was a good two feet higher then I was. He was fat and big and I knew what he thought he would try to do. He wanted to provoke me to a fight. A contest that would be a joke.

There was one thing that Gerald had not expected from me. It was my secret that would turn this day from what most certainly would have been a tragedy if he got his way, to a victory. A few weeks earlier at Grandmas place I had been prowling in the old smoke house that had become a storage shed for all the old stuff to good to throw away. While there, I found and old knife half buried in the dirt floor. It was and old German Military dagger. A relic my uncle or some family member had deposited there and forgotten. I ask my uncle Hack if I could keep it, and he said I could have it if my dad did not care. Dad gave his blessings with a warning not to cut my self and be careful with it. This dagger was very useful in cutting rope and small limbs in the woods. And now the dagger was resting in my waist band of my jeans under my tee shirt.

After Gerald had destroyed the footbridge he started for me. He thought that I would run, instead I stood my ground. Tommy was already behind me with his hand ax hidden behind him. Tommy was not expecting any violence from Gerald because he did not know him that well, but after seeing what he did to the bridge, I could tell he was worried.

“ You low down dirty good for nothing,“ I said, knowing that it would really get his attention. This startled him because he did not expect any retaliation just cowering fear. He looked at me and I saw his face turn into a red rage. He ran for me, but I stood my ground and smiled at him and even laughed at him. This preplext him because he expected me to run. He approached me and grabbed me by my shirt and lifted me off the ground with a smark on his face.

He called me a few names and cocked his fist ready to pound me, then the moment I had been waiting for sense I saw him start tearing up the bridge. It was my turn to get my vengeance. Slowly I pulled the dagger from my waist, while he was muttering his expletives. When he suddenly stoped with a wide look of surprise on his face. As the sharp point of the blade made its introduction to his fat navel. I spoke very softly and deliberately as he held me in his face.

“You stinking no good for nothing low life. You put me slowly on the ground and get out of here or I’m going to spill your guts all over these woods,” I said. By this time Gerald was bewildered and in shock. His pray had turned into the proverbial tiger by the tail. It was my moment, and only moment, but it was mine. I had triumphed over the biggest bully in the neighborhood, and made him run. Gerald put me down gently while I held the dagger against his fat stomach.

“Give me the hand ax Tommy,” I said. He handed me the ax which made me feel a little more confident. Once it was in my other hand, I warned Gerald if he thought he would change his mind I was very good a throwing an ax. That was not a boost. What else does a kid in the woods do for fun, when he plays Davy Crockett?

Gerald left with some heavy threats as he got out of sight where he knew he was safe. Tommy and I decided we would go another way to get home that after noon. There was no doubt Gerald would be hiding ready to jump us when we went up the path.

Vengeances is sweet, but sometimes stupid. That was not the end of my problem with Gerald, but he never got his chance to try and even the score. He was furious that I had gotten the better of him by putting a knife at his stomach. Word got out to others that he had been humiliated by me. I never bragged about it, but Tommy told everyone at school.

Now that is not the end of the story. Gerald grew up while my family moved away to another city. I never saw Gerald after I moved. Years later my younger brother who still lives in the area said the Gerald went to prison for murder at age 34. He was in a restaurant where he got into an argument with some one and shot them in cold blood. He spent twenty years for his actions and was up for being paroled at age 55,but was turned down.He must spend another 10 years before he is allowed to try again.

Hind sight is always twenty, twenty. As I look back, maybe I did not just stop a fight that day but maybe I saved my life as well.

Story ID:	2370
Written by:	Donald L. Jones (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Family Memories
Location:	Mc Minnville Tennessee USA
Year:	1958
Person:	Self