Free Man in the Moon by Dotti Enderle Page A

thought about it, the more important it became. I was going to do what I had to for Ricky. And I knew I had to do it quick.

    I raced back outside to the shade tree, where I hammered and worked for a whole hour. And when I finished, I had something that resembled a go-cart, even if it was still just a big old letter “I” with wheels.
    “That’s a mighty fine piece of transportation you’ve got there,” a voice said from behind me. I turned to see Mr. Lunas standing there with a tiny sliver of a grin, his body not much bigger than a wisp of smoke.
    “It would have been better if Ricky had built it. I don’t even know if it will roll.”
    Mr. Lunas got down on his haunches and inspected my work. I swear I could hear his bones creak. “How are you going to steer it?”
    I was so busy putting it together, I hadn’t stopped to think of that. “I don’t know.”
    He took off his hat and scratched his head. “I suspect if Ricky were making this, he’d loosen this front nail and steer this thing with his feet.” He sat down on the back board and propped his feet up on each side of the front board. “See? You could push with your right foot to go left, and your left foot to go right.”
    It made sense to me. When he stood up, I grabbed the hammer and started jerking that nail out. Mr. Lunas cleared his throat, making a gruff, brittle sound. “Also,” he went on, “since you already have a hole there from the nail, I bet you can put that large bolt in it and hold it on with that nut. But not too tight. It has to swivel, remember?”
    Mr. Lunas was right. The bolt went in snug, but I worked the board back and forth, loosening it up enough to move with ease.
    “And I think the same thing would go with those wheels too,” he said. “Why not get those tight nails out of there and use those screws instead? You already have the holes to fit them.”
    Mr. Lunas guided me. I did all the work, and he did all the advising. He showed me what wrenches and screwdrivers to use. Another hour later, I sat down on the go-cart, imagining what it would be like to sail down the hill out front. I held my arms out to my sides as though I could feel the wind hitting my face.
    “You’re going to fall off if you ride like that,” Mr. Lunas said, rubbing his chin.
    He had a point. “What can I hold on to?”
    He nodded toward some rope laying under the tree. “I think Ricky meant to use that. Tie each end on that front board, one on the left, one on the right. Tie it close to the main chassis. You can hold on to it like the reins on a horse.”
    I tied the rope tight, burning my hands with its coarse hairs. I tugged as hard as I could to make sure it didn’t come loose. Then I sat on it again, feet up, reins in my hands. I swiveled the front board left and right to make sure it worked. It wasn’t easy in the dirt, but on the open road, it would steer just fine. Hot dang, I’d built a go-cart!
    I stood up and gave Mr. Lunas a proud smile. “Thank you. This’ll work.” And at the risk of crushing his feeble old bones, I gave him a super big, squeezy hug.
    “Yep,” he said, patting my back, then turning me loose. “That’ll work just fine.”
    I let out a deep breath, feeling relieved and pleased with myself. “Hard part’s over.”
    Mr. Lunas turned back toward the house. Without missing a step, he called over his shoulder, “Nope. Hard part is getting your brother outside to ride it.”
    Those words hit me like a baseball bat. My heart beat fast as I watched him hobble away, Buddy trotting right behind him. Mr. Lunas knew my secret! Now I just hoped and prayed he wouldn’t tell a single soul.
    Daddy cooked beans and corn bread for dinner that night. He heated up some tomato soup for Ricky. I watched him tiptoe to Ricky’s bedroom door, set the bowl on the floor, then gently knock. He didn’t bother hanging around to see if Mama would let him in.
    I crumbled corn bread on my plate and covered it with a mountain of beans.