I had heard that once he had cut a boy with a knife in a fight over at the sawmill.
Rainie was the youngest, about my age. He had the meanest disposition of any boy I had ever known.
Because of this he was disliked by young and old. Wherever Rainie went, trouble seemed to follow.
He was always wanting to bet, and would bet on anything. He was nervous, and could never seem to stand still.
Once at my grandfather’s store, I had given him a piece of candy.
Snatching it out of my hand, he ate it and then sneered at me and said it wasn’t any good.
During a pie supper one night, he wanted to bet a dime that he could whip me.
My mother told me always to be kind to Rainie, that he couldn’t help being the way he was.
I asked, “Why?” She said it was because his brothers were always picking on him and beating him.
On entering the store, they stopped and glared at me. Rubin walked over to the counter. Rainie came over to me.
Leering at me, he said, “I’d like to make a bet with you.” I told him I didn’t want to bet.
He asked if I was scared. “No. I just don’t want to bet,” I said.
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