E-Mail By Bobby E. Neble    Bio/Address

A warm breeze slipped through the opened door, bringing with it the inviting smell of fresh grass, adventure and loads of fun.

With my chores completed, my best friend Darren and I were aching to fly out the screened-in porch and zip across the wide pasture behind the house. With its wide expanse of pecan trees ringed by green apple trees the widow Shultz's place called to us. The wind and the fluttering leaves beckon us to break free of the restraints of the indoors and go fill our bellies full of the juicy apples. It'd been way too long since we slipped over the fences and on up to the apple trees.

It's hard to remember exactly whose idea it was, but we were both in full agreement that those apples sure would taste good sitting in the shade of an elm in the Barrenness’ backyard. We each slung a grain sack over our shoulders and headed toward the Shultz mansion.

Between my house and our destination were many dastardly traps and obstacles placed there just to slow us down. About half a mile of mesquite trees with at least a hundred different kinds of bramble bushes grasping at our jeans, threatening to rip the fabric right from our bodies. With true frontiersman style, we faced the horrid obstacles and prevailed. Nothing would be able to stop two daring explorers from attaining their goal! The brush or the barbed wire would not stop them.

The pasture full of Brahma bulls was something else entirely. Not wanting to anger the testy brutes, we used our vast navigational skills and followed the sparkling strands of barbed wire all the way around that menacing pasture.

Having so easily bested our main obstacle, we exchanged successful grins and slipped through the triple-strand barbed wire and stood on the outer edge of the Shultz mansion. Our tiny eyes darted side-to-side, seeking out the presence of the grouchy old caretaker whose sole purpose for existence seemed to be to foil our long thought-out plans.

0l' Amos is a mean character that we ran into a few times in the past when we ‘accidentally’ wandered onto the Shultz's property and just happened to find ourselves deep within the center of her apple trees. For some reason, he didn't take too kindly to our presence.

"I reckon Ol’ Amos is off today," said Darren. He raised a hand up to shade his brown eyes and continued to look around the wide fields of fruit and pecan trees. "I don't see him nowheres."

We sat still, patiently searching the trees and shadows for the hidden presence of Amos. The old man had shown himself to be a wily ol' coot that we could never take for granted. Several long minutes passed without either of us seeing any sign of him. Satisfied, we cautiously advanced toward the apple grove.

The widow Shultz's mansion sits atop a small hill with total indifference to the laws and guidelines set up by the guardians and protectors of mischievous boys the world over. The apple trees were right at the bottom of this hill clearly in view of the house, yet also clearly visible from outside the property as well. Just the sight of the huge sparkling windows facing the grove would probably have deterred your average apple hunter, but Darren and I were seasoned veterans. Plus, we were hungry and as everyone knows there's no stopping the driving hunger of youth!

We hopped over a short chain-link fence with the practiced ease that only comes from experience and darted into the cool shadows of the first row of apple trees. Limbs loaded down with the juicy red fruit bobbed gently in the light wind enticing us to grab some of them. Since we knew there were better ones, we successfully fought against the urge. We slipped around the trees until we stood a scant hundred yards from the entryway to widow Shultz's mansion. We stood gazing at the biggest apple tree in the county! The limbs of this monstrous tree sagged underneath the weight of hundreds of apples just waiting to be plucked by our excited little hands.

We wasted no time clambering up the tree and began to eagerly stuff our sacks with juicy red apples. The only time we slowed down was to switch branches in search of even bigger ones.

My thoughts wandered. As I placed apple after shinny red apple into my sack, I tried to figure out a way I could convince my grandmother into making a fresh apple pie. I could already taste the homemade ice cream I'd drop on top of the warm pie just as soon as it came from the oven.

"RUN!" Darren's loud yell yanked me from daydream. "RUN!"

I looked across the small patch of knee-high grass separating the grove from the mansion There was Ol’ Amos running downhill just as quick as his stick-like legs would carry him. He was toting a huge, double-barrel shotgun! He yelled something I couldn’t understand, but the redness glowing from his face backed up by the glinting blue steel of the gun made his message perfectly clear. We were in a heap of trouble.

I tossed the sack of apples to the ground and jumped. I saw Darren already weaving between the next line of trees, not even pausing to see if I was following. The inviting shadows of the denser pecan trees pulled us in, welcoming us with open arms. Darren cut to the left, disappearing behind the trunk of one of the larger pecan trees.

BOOM! The gun blasted and I felt a tingling sensation along my left leg and lower backside. The burning pain propelled me faster, and seconds later I was flying past Darren and bolting straight for the mesquite trees ahead.

BOOM! The hand cannon exploded again, sending out another load of hot lead through the air and raising thick clods of dirt and grass right in front of me. I cut right and hurtled over the barbed wire fence in a singe bound. Still airborne, my white sneakers kicked trying to propel my body even faster!

Like Olympic sprinters, we shot through the trees, weaving in and out of their rough trunks with nary a thought. We came out the other side and shot right through the dense pack of Brahma bulls. Shocked by our unexpected appearance, the large beasts scattered and then stood around absently mindedly flicking their ears and tails as they watched us dive over the fence into the other side of their pasture.

We never slowed our mad dash until we thundered up onto the wide wooden back porch of my house and then into the safety of the house itself.

I turned and slammed the door shut, then twisted the lock for good measure. I stood there panting and scared half to death. I couldn't believe Ol’ Amos had really shot at us. No, my burning backside reminded me, he hadn't shot at_ us — he had shot us! Well, me. I raised my t-shirt and began to inspect the mortal wound I suffered. Surely I would now die.

Darren caught sight of the blood soaking through the blue of my jeans. He screamed, "Bobby Earl's done been shot! Help! He's dying, help!"

The entire household pounced down upon us with excited concern. Before I could get a word in edgewise, I was being poked and prodded and ultimately found myself bent over my grandmother's bony knees while she carefully extracted the evidence of our crime with a pair of tweezers.

As I endured the painful extraction of lead, as well as the embarrassment of having my bloody and bare rear up in the air for all to see — which they did — I heard Darren giving my dad the details of our misadventure.

"Yes sir, Mr. Neble, I tried to talk him out of it. But he wouldn't listen to my reasonin'. Now look at him, probably crippled for life."

My grandmother completed her makeshift operation and allowed me to rise to my feet. Twelve pellets had hit me. Of course, to me, it felt like twelve hundred. I tried to generate as much sympathy as possible for my wounded backside, but it wasn't working. Darren had spilled the beans and I was in hot water. A perfectly useable thirty-dollar pair of jeans along with a few sweet pies and pastries from my grandmother's oven had been ruined! No one was going to be feeling sorry for me this time around.

I was confined to my bedroom for two and half weeks. Not only did I suffer the loneliness of being grounded, it practically killed me to just sit down! An official apology to widow Shultz and a commitment to contribute two more weeks of my summer vacation to pulling weeds around the very tree that had brought all this on. Finally I was free to roam the neighborhood again.

A very valuable lesson was learned. Two lessons in fact. The first was that it never pays to try and take something that doesn't belong to you, even something as small as a few tasty apples. But the second and most important lesson is "If you do decide to become a thief never take Darren along with you!"