The Forbidden Trail by Honoré Willsie (accelerated reader books .TXT) 📕
"No, sir. I've been pretty bad. Say, Papa, how much would it cost to build a railroad, under the ground, from our house to Prebles'?"
"A good deal of money. What way were you bad, Rog?"
"Oh, about every way, temper and all. Papa, I guess I'll build that railroad. I got a big piece of pipe and a gauge that might work. Guess I might begin to make a engine. Aren't I a pretty good inventor, Papa?"
"I don't know, Son. Nothing you've ever said or done makes me think you're one yet. In the first place an inventor is the most patient animal in the world. An inventor just can't lose his temper. Why don't you begin by inventing a way to control your temper, Son?"
Roger subsided into his bowl of bread and milk.
Mr. Moore was smoking on the front porch when Mrs. Moore joined him after putting Roger to bed. She sat down on the steps beside him while she told him of Roger's day.
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"It's all right, Gustav, old man," he said gently. "I won't touch Dick. Go on and do what Elsa wants and as soon as I've rested a bit, I'll help you."
"You'll feel better if you have some food, Roger." Elsa came round to the side of the cot where Roger could see her. She was carrying a bowl of milk and a plate of bread, which she placed silently on a chair beside him, then she and Gustav disappeared toward the tool house where Ernest already had gone.
Roger did feel better after he had cleaned the two dishes and he dozed a little.
He was roused by the sound of sawing and hammering from the tool house. A moment after Charley flew out the door and down the trail to the door of the little adobe shack.
"What are you all doing?" Roger heard her ask in a voice totally unlike her own, so shrill it was, and broken.
"Don't come in, Charley," cried Elsa. "Roger, come here."
Roger already was hurrying down the trail.
"You must take Charley down to the Plant and keep her there for awhile," Elsa said firmly, as Roger came up. "We'll tend to things here—she's reached her limit."
"Wait till I get Peter," replied Roger. He was back shortly with the little burro and Charley's broad hat. When the trembling girl mounted he walked beside her with a steadying arm over her shoulders. Her helplessness suddenly made her seem very like Felicia to him.
"We'll go right to the living tent," he said, quietly, "and you must try to rest while I get some supper."
"No! No! Don't leave me. I'm not hungry. I can't rest! I killed her, Roger, I killed her!"
"Nonsense! Booze killed her. Come, Charley, dismount, poor girl, and we'll turn old Peter loose," as they reached the camp.
Charley dismounted, then stood staring levelly into Roger's eyes. "I let my love for Dick kill her. I hate him now. Oh, how I hate him!"
"Don't talk about that," exclaimed Roger. "Charley, let's go into the living tent out of the sun."
They sat down side by side on one of the trunks. Roger had a vague notion that Charley would find relief if she could weep. But he had no notion of how to make her do so. He took one of her feverish, trembling hands in his and began talking at random.
"You are so like Felicia. You two always were getting confused in my mind and right now it's worse than ever. She loved me as much as I loved her. And now you'll have to try to be fond of me too, for her sake, Charley, and overlook my failings. You didn't kill her, my dear. She might have been bitten anywhere and at any time. Try to think of that. Why, you took wonderful care of her. Such care as never was on sea nor land, she used to say to me."
Felicia's familiar little phrase was too much for Charley. Suddenly she ran over to one of the cots and dropping there burst into tears. Then Roger, wiping the sweat from his face, left her while he went out to boil the tea kettle. When he returned in about half an hour, he was able to persuade Charley to drink a cup of strong tea and eat a cracker. The sun had set by the time she had finished, and she asked him to walk with her up and down the sand before the door.
How many hours he paced up and down in the hot darkness with Charley clinging to his arm, he could not tell. She did not cry again. Her agony of mind, like Roger's, was too deep for tears. She could only wring her hands and stumble back and forth like a hunted thing.
It was Roger's first experience in trying to assuage the grief of any one else. He discovered resources within himself of which he never before had dreamed.
"We were all to blame, Charley," he insisted again and again.
"No, the fault was mine! Oh, little, lovely Felicia! Roger, you must know that though I wouldn't let you strike Dick, I hate him! I hate him!"
"Good God, Charley! Let's not bring Dick in, to-night. We have our own private hell as he has his. Do you know that I'm realizing that what you said is right? That if Felicia had seen me again in one of my temper fits, it might have driven her away, just as this did. I'll never lose control of my temper again, Charley."
She did not answer except to groan. After a time, Roger said, "I'm thinking about Dick's wound. If it isn't attended to, soon, gangrene may set in. You and I had better drive him into town to-morrow."
"We'll not. He deserves to lose his leg!"
"Perhaps he does. But we aren't the ones to say so. Come into the tent, Charley, you are staggering and so am I."
Once more he led her into the tent where he lighted a "bug" and once more they sat down side by side on the trunk. Suddenly Roger put his arm about the girl and pulled her close against him, saying brokenly:
"Oh, Charley! Charley! You are so like her! Lean against me, dear, as she would, and we'll try to weather this together." And Charley, with a tremulous sigh, laid her soft cheek against his rough, unshaven one. They sat there until the tent was filled with the lovely gray of the filtered moonlight. Then Roger persuaded Charley to lie down. But when she had done so she clung to his hand.
"Stay with me, just a little bit longer," she whispered. Roger seated himself on the floor, clasping her hand closely. It was not long before Charley, still clinging to his hand, drifted off into uneasy slumber. Roger then leaned his tired head against the pillow and cramped as he was in his sitting posture, he dropped into a profound sleep.
Thus Gustav found them at dawn. His face was tear-stained but he smiled a little with a look that was full of pity and understanding. He tried to tiptoe out without a sound but a board creaked and Charley sat up, stared at him, then exclaimed:
"I must go up and dress her."
Roger clambered to his feet. Gustav came over to the cot and took Charley's hand in both his own.
"Miss Elsa haf dressed her, in the leedle vite dress and sash. And den, Miss Charley, you know how in so few hours Gott changes the bodies ve love so ve can't vish to haf them longer—so ve lay the little sister up on the mountain side last night, ven the moon came."
Charley sat staring at him with horror in her eyes, then when he had ceased speaking, she lay back and closed her eyes and the two men left her.
Later in the day, it was decided that Gustav must drive Dick, who was in great pain, into Archer's Springs to the doctor. Charley absolutely refused to see Dick or to offer any suggestions.
Just as the wagon with Dick perching on the cot at the bottom was ready to start for the camp Ernest called:
"Oh, Gustav, be sure to find out about the Smithsonian's visitor and wire to Washington the reason for our failure to meet him."
Roger, who was standing in the living tent, caught his breath. Through his grief for Felicia merged realization that his great opportunity had come and gone. For the first time in three days he turned to the engine house.
After the wagon was a receding dust-cloud on the trail, Charley went back up to the adobe, where Elsa was to stay on with her, and Ernest to sleep at night.
Outwardly life assumed its old routine. Gustav returned on the third day and reported that Dick was established at Doc Evans' house and that the Doc said "he'd have Dick about again in two or three weeks if no new complication set in." He also brought a letter from the Smithsonian man, Arlington, somewhat caustically deploring the fact that Roger had not been sufficiently interested to meet him and closing with the remark that he would not be in the neighborhood again for another six months. Gustav brought with him, too, the refilled drums of sulphur dioxide.
Roger handed the letter, without comment, to Ernest and went back into the engine house. He did not go up to the ranch for supper that evening as he had been doing, but the following morning which was Sunday, he appeared for breakfast. He was looking haggard and old but he greeted his friends cheerfully.
"Got any victuals for a broken down inventor?" he asked Charley.
She smiled faintly as she set a place for Roger at the table.
"You certainly look the part, Rog," said Ernest. "It's a good thing you've got friends with business heads."
"With what?" exclaimed Roger.
"Don't be cynical!" cried Elsa. "We sat up half the night working out a wonderful scheme for you. We—"
"Yes," Ernest interrupted eagerly, "we all went over the situation and we've made up our minds to a mode of action. You are such an impractical old chump, Rog! It's ridiculous for you to waste your time trying to make an engine out of a junk pile while the main idea of your invention, the real selling part, is neglected." He stopped to butter a biscuit.
Roger sipped his coffee and waited for Ernest to continue. "Now then, Elsa has a little money, enough to take me to Washington and back. It's her idea that I take that and go to see the Smithsonian people. There's not the slightest sense in your going. You're no salesman and I am. You remember it was I who landed Austin in the first place."
"I remember," said Roger quietly.
There was a long silence. Roger thought of the tiny food supply and of the months of experimentation that must go on before the Sun Plant would show efficiency.
"I hate to see Elsa putting money into this thing," he said slowly, "but at most I can always take a job and pay her back."
"Of course you can!" exclaimed Elsa.
"I know I can get money from the Smithsonian," said Ernest, "and we'll repay her at once."
Roger looked at Charley. "What do you advise?" he asked.
"I wouldn't hesitate for an instant," she replied. "Elsa feels just as I would—that the work must be finished."
"I know I can land the Smithsonian," reiterated Ernest, "and we'll repay Elsa at once."
"You needn't hurry," exclaimed Elsa. "As long as I have no money, I can't go home!"
Roger looked from Ernest to Elsa, then out the door across the desert to where the Sun Plant lay in the burning, quivering blue air.
"We'll try it out, Ern," he said. "You know how grateful I am to you both."
Ernest nodded. "Nobody's using the horses, so I'll drive in and leave the team at Hackett's. If Dick gets well before I come back he can drive himself out. Otherwise it will be waiting for me. Elsa, do you think you could fix up a clean collar and shirt for me?"
"If she can't, I can," offered Charley.
"Take anything you can find of mine," Roger's face was more cheerful than it had been for days. "I'll get the reports and drawings ready for you."
So, by the united efforts of the two households, Ernest was made ready for a flying trip to civilization. He was so happy and excited over the trip that he really lifted some of the sadness that had hung so heavily over the ranch house. After his departure, Gustav slept at the ranch, in order to do
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