Peter O'Malley
Some boys are very tough. They like to brag around about their toughness, maybe shooting a sparrow or tin can to prove it. However, most of them are more talk than action, and many will completely balk at the chance to prove their strength in combat, particularly the chattiest ones. Peter O'Malley, though, did not fall into this category of bluffers, nor did he go around picking fights unnecessarily, only for the sake of showing just how tough he was, but rather did his best to remain calm and in-control, if only for the sake of his family.
It was on a warm evening in mid-December that this carefree lad stood near his family's house, doing his best to bring down the stubborn gum tree he'd been working at all day. His family had moved here a couple months earlier from a stake on the other side of town, though shortly afterwards his father had bolted to nearby Victoria, claiming this life-style had hindered his spirits too long. This had started all variations of rumours, ofcourse, and Peter, slowly greatening the dent in the trunk by throwing the axe with swings strengthened from his anger, admitted that his family had suffered great emotional damage from the flapping lips of gossipy neighbors.
With each harsh connection between old axe and old wood, Peter invisioned himself breaking in the heads of the school-boy who'd told Lottie that their father was courting three new women at once, or the old maid who'd insisted to Maggie that their father had drunken himself into gaol. Sure, he'd fix that Timothy for making Caroline cry.
Peter was so intent on how he'd punish even men ten times his size for hurting his loved ones, and how'd he'd like to have a go at his own father for destroying their family, that he didn't notice the little blonde head pop up by his side until a curious voice piped up, "What're ya doing, Peter?"
"What does it look like I'm doing, Paddy?" Peter asked, trying to calm himself down now that his little brother had showed up.
"When I'm more big, I will be strong, like you," Paddy grinned.
Peter laughed and assured Paddy, who's adoration to his oldest brother was always quite evident, that he no doubt would be; if he wasn't, if sure wouldn't be for lack of trying!
"Now, you stand back a little bit, Paddy, because this tree's about to come down," Peter warned, amused at the wide eyes of anticipation he received. Recalling a final surge of strength, Peter swung the steel axe against the stubborn gum several times, until, with a sensational cracking, the abused stronghold fell.
Peter grabbed Paddy, and the two raced around to the other side of the monster, then watched in awe as the felled beast toppled, slicing through the air and landing with a sickening thud loud enough to cause poor Paddy to cry out to Peter. The elder, who was used to the terrifying noise by now, stifled his laughter, not wanting to offend the younger, who had yet to stand so close to the fall as now.
Before Peter could congratulate himself on finally felling the gum tree, though, who should come strutting up the road and to the very spot he stood at but Black-Eye Billy, known more for his instigating a fight in which he received one than actually administering a shiner. Peter would have happily traded his bluchers, his city-coat, or even his new hat to keep the troublemaker off his land, but it didn't look like he had that choice at the moment.
"Well, who do I happen upon this lovely aft'noon if it t'isn't them fine O'Malley's," Billy drawled, selecting his path around the fallen tree carefully, then coming to a halt before the two boys.
Peter glared hard at him and demanded, "What do you want, Billy?"
"I just want to see how two of my favorite mates are doing."
"We were doin' fine, but now some rotten egg's stinkin' up the place," Peter replied shortly.
Billy remained calm, despite the abhorrence radiating from Peter, and gasped, "Why, Peter O'Malley, I do believe you're insinuating something a'negative to my e-motions."
"Have you emotions?" Paddy mumbled under his breath, but, unfortunately, Billy heard him.
Turning a hawk's-stare to the little boy, Billy threatened, "You watch your mouth, kid, or I'll punch you so hard, you'll be tasting rust for a week."
"Come on, Billy, he's not half your size; leave him be," Peter encouraged.
"Or else you'll go loony: like father, like son?"
Peter's hands tensed into fists, his teeth clenched together, and he growled out, "You shaddup about my Da, ya hear?"
"You mean don't open my mouth about your dad and the life he's living with the women, and the gambling, and thieves, and the opium, and all that crooked dealing?" Peter audibly growled, but Billy kept on, "No, I'd rather talk about your ma and how exactly she's coming by the money to raise all eight --there are only eight, right?-- of you filthy O'Malley's. Surely punishment won't be too bad; after all, Jesus and the Samaritan woman got on just fine."
The situation suddenly changed when Billy attacked Mrs. O'Malley as such, and the look in Peter's eye was purely that of the Banshee, warning Billy of his coming death.
"I'll kill you!" Peter shrieked, lunging at Billy with all the ferocity of the devil that Billy would later call him, and knocking both of them onto the wood-chip-covered ground. Peter meant to do damage, and inflict pain he did, as he clawed and bit and punched and kicked at the taunting parrot, ignoring the blubbering wails from his victim.
Paddy, not sure what to do, took off for the house, yelling, "Peter's gonna kill 'im!" over and over. At the commotion, Mrs. O'Malley, as well as Mr. Rainwater, who had been visiting-slash-courting for some time now, came running out of the house, then quickly followed the frantic child, not fully understanding what he was on about. Upon seeing Peter and Billy going at it, Mrs. O'Malley screamed, Mr. Rainwater yelled, and both began trying to break the boys apart. Mrs. O'Malley, if anything, made the fighting more agressive, but Mr. Rainwater forgot trying to break it up verbally, and physically grabbed the two boys, one in each strong hand, and struggled to pull them apart. If it had not been for the majority of the O'Malley's coming to see what was all the ruckus, though, Billy would have been a goner, for Jem and Ryan had to help to hold the enraged Peter back.
"Peter Daniel O'Malley, you are behaving like an animal; what's going on?" Mrs. O'Malley scolded and demanded, glowering at her eldest son.
Peter glared at him, and spat at him, and muttered several explicitives at him, but Billy did his best to look innocent and dazed about the current situation, knowing full well that if Mr. Rainwater told his Papa about this, he'd get the belt for sure.
"Tell that worm to mind his own life, and stop sticking his nose in other people's business."
"I did nothing!" Billy insisted. "That monster just came after me like a bat out of hell!"
Mr. Rainwater, though, was not convinced, and yelled, "Go on, get outta here! I'll go chat with your father before the sun sets!" At this threat, Billy lit out of there much like he'd described Peter, already trembling at his father, who just so happened to be the local sheriff's, wrath. Peter being Irish would be ignored merely for the fact that Mr. Rainwater, a rather prominent figure in the community, had to witness Billy misbehaving in such a manner. Mr. Rainwater was wealthy and active in the community, not to mention highly looked up to when it came to local affairs.
The O'Malley children all stood frozen, staring at their forlorn hero, while Mrs. O'Malley ranted and raved about her son's insane temper, and what in the world made him go off on the sheriff's son like that. Mr. Rainwater, though, after letting up on his firm grip of Peter's arm, just studied the boy with a careful eye.
After several minutes of this described scene, he suggested to Mrs. O'Malley, "Bridget, why don't you and the kids go on back to the house? Let us men talk for a moment." Mrs. O'Malley quickly agreed and, taking baby Gracie from Maggie, was followed by all the children, save Peter, back to the house.
Once they were out of earshot, Mr. Rainwater turned to Peter and asked, "Was it worth it?"
Whatever Peter had been expecting, this was not it, and he asked, "Sir?"
"Punching the lights out of Billy Claybourn, was it worth it?" Mr. Rainwater repeated. Then, taking a seat on the fallen tree, he added, "Been wanting to do it myself for some time now."
Peter couldn't help but let a grin slip, though it hurt his busted lip. Wiping the blood off his forehead, he sat beside Mr. Rainwater on the tree trunk, breaking several branches off with his feet so as to sit better.
"It was worth it," Peter agreed.
Mr. Rainwater nodded, then looked at the young man beside him, and said, "I'm not your father, Peter, and I'm not going to pretend to be. But you listen to me, and listen to me good. You're going to hear from your mother, and your teachers, and the church that fighting is wrong, but don't believe them." He looked Peter straight in the face, dark brown eyes meeting dark brown eyes, and said in all serious, "Don't believe them, Peter, because some things are worth fighting for."
"Like what?"
"I think you know," Mr. Rainwater answered. "You're a tough kid, Peter O'Malley. Now don't go around picking fights, but if something you love is challenged, if you have a reason to fight, then give it all you've got."
Peter smiled, Mr. Rainwater smiled, and they both sat there in silence for several minutes, until the latter said, "Now go apologize to your mother, while I go have a chat with Sheriff Claybourn."
"Do I have to?" Peter groaned, to which the elder nodded.
"Whether you were right or wrong, always apologize to a woman."
Peter laughed and stood, beginning his walk back to the house. Not three yards away, though, he turned and asked, "Mr. Rainwater? Are you going to marry Ma?"
"I don't know."
"Oh," Peter responded. Then, as if an afterthough, he said, "If you did want to marry Ma, I wouldn't fight it."
Mr. Rainwater smiled and nodded, knowing in his heart that those words were the kindest anyone had ever spoken to him.
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Written for 9th grade English class.