you kissed many boys, yet?”
Blushing, she said, “Papa, that’s a personal question.”
“Well, that’s one way to find out.”
Later that night Lucretia lay awake in bed thinking over all her father had shared and when she thought about the special kiss he described, her mind began to wander. She had kissed several boys including Robert whom she found very attractive, but the only kiss that seemed special was the first kiss she had ever received. She was only thirteen and the boy was maybe seventeen. He was a wounded Southern soldier her family was keeping until he was well enough to be transferred to a Federal prison. After several months of care, the two had become friends. She remembered sitting on the front porch watching the golden leaves of fall flutter to the ground under a full November moon. Since the moment she met him she had wanted to hold him close and had dreamed how it would feel when their lips met. Knowing that he would be leaving the following morning, she finally got up the nerve to ask him for a goodbye kiss. It had been over four years since he left, but she could still feel the warm touch of his body, and the memory of the touch of his lips made her blush even in the stillness of her room. It had been so long ago, she thought, and the experience of any young girl’s first kiss would be impressionable, but still, she could not erase the feeling that she had experienced with the young soldier.
Since that night, she had learned through several letters that he survived the war and prison, but something had happened to him. He no longer returned her letters, and the last note that she had received had come from his sister, not him.
It took little more than an hour for John and Tim to reach Professor Hendon’s house and once there, they were amazed at the commotion in the front yard. Two young boys had taken refuge behind a large oak tree while another was hurling sticks and rocks at them as fast as he could pick them up.
Throwing one stone so hard that it bounced back toward John and Tim, scaring their horses, the boy shouted, “Damn you, Robert Earl! I’m tired of you not playing fair. All you do is find a way to cheat.”
“I ain’t cheatin’! Lay down them rocks and we’ll come out and fight you like a man,” came the reply from one of the boys behind the tree.
No sooner had the boy dropped his rock than the two behind the tree raced after him and all John and Tim could see were fists slinging and dust flying as the three boys tumbled in the yard.
Hearing the ruckus, the Professor adjusted his suspenders, tucked in his shirt, and stepped out on the front porch to shout, “Boys, stop that fighting right now and I better not hear any more out of you! You know better than that!”
The boys didn’t hear a word he said and continued fighting.
The Professor then reached for the limb he kept near the doorway and headed down to the boys and without asking any questions, he began to thrash the lot. In a matter of seconds he had them separated and howling with pain, as they ran for the safety of the house.
Seeing his guests, he apologized, “Sorry about that, boys. Sometimes I think I’m rearing a bunch of savages. The problem is, I just got too many children. Let me finish getting dressed and we’ll be on our way.”
Glancing back toward John, he said, “Good to see you with us, John. I wasn’t sure Tim could get you away from the house.”
Professor Hendon was over forty when he married the widow Langford and the rumor was that he had been secretly seeing her before her husband passed away. Many a suspecting husband breathed a breath of relief when the preacher pronounced them husband and wife. Since that time his wife had born him four sons and three daughters.
Tim, still on his horse, commented, “See why I ain’t gettin’ married. I couldn’t stand all that racket with them children.”
John nodded in agreement. “At his age, he’s just got too many.”
“Too many of ‘em,” Tim replied. “He’s got more children than this. He’s probably got a half dozen more around these here parts that folks don’t know about.”
“You saying what I think you’re saying, Tim?”
“Exactly, John. He’s got a bundle of bastards.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say about a man. How do you know what you’ve heard is true? Could be all lies.”
Tim reached into his pocket and checked the time on his watch, then continued, “You know I spend a lot of time gambling and when men gamble, they also drink a lot and when they drink, they get loose tongues. I’ve heard more than one man who happened up on the Professor down near the river with one of his women and they weren’t just parleying.”
No sooner than Tim had finished his statement than the Professor stepped out on his porch again, dressed in his best. Even though he was now in his late fifties, he was still a handsome man, tall with long graying hair kept neatly combed and a short cropped beard. He was also impeccably dressed and possessed a dignified and stately manner. When addressing a lady, he would usually talk in a soft and almost feminine tone that often brought him the desired results. In contrast, some men judging him to be somewhat of a softy, had confronted him about his evening endeavors only to find that his fists were too fast for them. Afterwards he usually informed them that he was a champion boxer while in college.
As the Professor made his way down the steps, his wife came to the door to wish him goodbye. Standing there in the doorway with two small girls peering from behind her skirt, the woman carefully studied the men out front. Although Mrs. Hendon was years younger than her husband, her children and household chores had taken their toll. Short and fairly plump, she stood on the porch with her hands on her hips watching her husband make his departure. As the Professor was about to mount his horse, she called out, “That you out there, John Wilson?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” came the reply.
“Don’t you let Mister Hendon do no drinking tonight. If’n he gits to drinking, he don’t know when to stop. Last time he went on a binge, he didn’t come home fer ‘bout a week. You hear me?”
“Yes, Ma’am. I hear you Mrs. Hendon.”
“And don’t let him fool with none of them pretty young skirts, neither,” she teased.
“Ain’t suppose to be none there, Mrs. Hendon, but if’n there is, I’ll keep ‘em off of ‘em,” Tim said with a smile.
“Tim Johnson, you’re worse than Mister Hendon. I know all about yore shenanigans,” she replied.
“John, you do what I said, now. Take care of him for me.”
Knowing he had no control over her husband, John said, “Mrs. Hendon, your husband is a grown man. I’ll do what I can. Can’t promise you nothing.”
Ignoring his wife’s remarks, the Professor directed his horse through his front gateway and as they rode away, he laughed and called out, “If I’m not back later tonight, I’ll see you sometimes next week, darling, and don’t let them children kill each other.”
“You better be back here tonight or you might just find me and the children gone,” she replied.
“Won’t anyone want all those children but me,” the Professor
