CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The next morning was Wednesday, and Glendon announced that he wouldstart East with Donnie on Saturday of the following week.
Katherine made no reply, uttered no protest. He supposed the silence ofdespair meant submission, as he and Juan started for Allan Flats, halfway to Willcox, to be gone several days.
"I'll be home Sunday night," were his last words as he spurred his horseand headed it toward the road leading out of the canyon. Juan lingered afew seconds to say "Adios" to the mother and child. The old Mexicancarried a heavy heart, for no one but the child was ignorant of theimpending separation.
The day passed happily for Donnie, while his mother devoted her entiretime to him. They strolled down the canyon, picking wild-flowers, thenreturning home, decorated the rooms and discovered that Juan had made achocolate layer cake for their enjoyment. After supper they sat talkingof the wonderful things Donnie was to do when he was grown. Thenfollowed an hour in the dining-room with the beloved Galahad.
The next morning at breakfast, Donnie asked, "What are we going to dotoday, Marmee?"
"Just whatever you wish," she answered with smiling lips, but sad eyes.
"Can't we go on a picnic, Marmee?"
"Yes, dear," was her reply. "I'll fix a lunch and saddle the ponies andwe'll be adventurers riding out to discover a new country, and we won'tcome home till the stars are out."
Donnie waited happily as his mother prepared the lunch. With practisedfingers she saddled their ponies; on the boy's saddle, tied a canteen ofwater and the flour-sack containing lunch, while on her own was fasteneda roll of Navajo blankets.
Katherine determined to snatch all the happiness possible for the childand herself during her husband's absence. Today she would forget thatthere must be a tomorrow; today the child was her own, despite hisfather, despite the laws of the Territory which said she had no right toher boy. So her smile met the child's laughter as they mounted theirponies and rode down the slope of the canyon to the place where the trailstruck up the divide leading to Jackson Flats.
It was a tortuous trail. At times, going up the brushy mountain sides,where cat-claw, mesquite, cacti and mescal struggled between immenserocks. Disturbed quail, rabbits, an enormous lizard--the harmlessbrother of the poisonous Gila Monster--dashed across the trail. Eachtiny incident was food for animated conversation between the two riders;a new flower, a change of view as they reached a certain point. Inplaces there was hardly room for their sure-footed ponies to travelsingle file. One side of the trail was a high, rocky cliff, while theother side dropped a thousand feet below. A displaced rock clattereddown the gully, startling a mountain-lion which leaped from a freshlykilled calf and skulked away. A coyote appeared between boulders on theopposite side of the canyon, squatted down and watched the riderscuriously.
Half way up the mountain they rode into a cave that was large enough toshelter twenty horses and men. The domed roof rose forty feet and thesides of the cave were painted with curious emblems of a dead andunknown people. The floor was strewn with bits of broken earthenpottery, decorated with the same characters as the walls. A fewarrowheads of green and black flint were scattered among the fragmentsof pottery; all that was left to tell the history of those who hadloved, hated, laughed and wept--then died.
It had been a favourite ride for the mother and child, and the relicshad made foundation for many games and stories. So the boy gatheredpieces of the pottery and amused himself trying to match them together,in emulation of his mother. As they worked she told him the history ofthose who had lived in this cave and fashioned the earthen jars. After acouple of hours the novelty wore off, and Donnie wanted to ride further.
"We can go to the top of the Box," said his mother. "You've never beenthere yet; but it will be a hard climb."
The child begged to try it, for she had told him that when they reachedthe top of the mountain they could see far across other hill-tops,beyond the San Pedro River--an unknown world to him.
After she had tightened the cinches of the saddles and they weremounted, she instructed the boy, "Lean well forward in your saddle andhold the horn tightly, dear. Give Pet a loose rein and you will not haveany trouble at all. He will follow Fox. It is a hard climb, and if youjerk on the reins you will make Pet fall back."
The horses headed what appeared almost a perpendicular wall. Donnie sawFox stretch his body like a greyhound and fairly hurl himself in leapsat the steep incline, scattering stones in every direction. Pet stood amoment, undecided, then with a shrill whinny started after Fox. Donniegrasped the horn of the saddle and clung to it desperately, leaningforward and shutting his eyes. His back jerked, his head wouldn't keepstill, his heart beat violently.
"If Pet would only keep still a minute," thought the child. "Suppose Foxwere to fall with Marmee, what would I do?"
He pulled on the reins, but Pet, watching Fox, fought the bit, andlunged ahead.
As if in answer to Donnie's thoughts, his mother's voice driftedcheerily back to him: "Almost there, dear. Tired?"
"Just a little bit," he replied, trying to be brave, but wishing hecould ride up beside her and hold her hand a minute. Then he rememberedGalahad had ridden alone, and knights were not afraid of anything. Hepretended that the trail led to the castle of an enemy and he was goingto rescue those held prisoners, so with bolstered courage, he kept hiseyes open and fixed on the horse ahead of him.
They reached a sharp knoll that formed the apex of the mountain; andafter slipping from the ponies and tying them to a stunted bit of scruboak, Katherine clasped Donnie's hand in her own, and together theyapproached the edge of the cliff, and peered cautiously over.
Two thousand feet below was the canyon, but where they gazed, four solidwalls arose like a gigantic box without a cover. There was no entranceor exit. The Mexicans called the place El Cajon, or the Box. Grass,flowers, trees and a trickling stream from a spring lay at the bottom ofthe Box, but nothing living could reach there. The walls were asstraight and sheer as the name of the place implied.
They drew back from inspecting it, and at Katherine's suggestion Donniegathered wild flowers to decorate the table on which she spread thelunch. The mother made a pretense at eating, but the memory of theimpending separation thrust itself on her despite her determination toforget it this one day. Neither she nor Glendon had told the child, sono shadow of tragedy spoiled his enjoyment.
The ride had tired him, and after lunch was over, she arranged theNavajo blankets. He stretched out lazily, watching his mother draw hisfavourite book from her saddlebag. Then he curled up with a sigh ofecstasy.
"Where shall I read?" she asked, smiling down at him.
"How Sir Galahad was made a knight," he answered, "and about the SiegePerilous."
So she read until the brown head nodded and the eyes closed slowly, thenseeing the boy slept, she laid the book aside, sitting motionless andwatching him with miserable eyes.
A white-winged butterfly flitted past her and hovered over the boy'shand, finally settling lightly on it then darting on its way. Sherecalled the story of the baby Galahad in his mother's arms and thewhite dove that had flown through the window, and the words of themaiden who bore the Sangreal, "And he shall be a much better knight thanhis father."
A mother-quail with her tiny brood slipped from the brush, peering aboutas she came forward. Fearing nothing from the sleeping child or themother who did not move, the quail called her little ones about her andshared with them the discovery of some crumbs. Katherine watched themenviously; then her eyes strayed to the child. Rebellion against thelaw, against her husband, his father, and life itself, overwhelmed her.The quail had more right to its brood than she had to her child.
The shadows lengthened as she sat fighting her battle, all the trainingand beliefs of years falling from her.
What was the use of fighting any longer? She looked at the Box. It wasso quiet down there; no one could take Donnie away from her. Just astep, and they would be safe together.
Her
lips grew tense, and smoothing a piece of paper that had beenwrapped about the lunch, she searched the saddle pocket until she founda stump of pencil, with which she wrote:
_Jim:_
I could not give up my boy to have him learn that money was the only thing worth-while--to be cruel and self-indulgent as your father wants him to be. I told you that you owed him to me in payment of your debt. The law refuses my child to me; you, too, would rob me of him, even though you know it will break his heart and mine.
I prayed God to aid me, and He will not answer my prayers. When you read this, Donnie and I will be together at the bottom of the Box. I did the best I could for you, and failed; but I will not fail with the boy.
KATHERINE.
Her hand was firm as she signed her name, and folding the paper, shetied it to a stone which she placed in the empty sack that had containedthe lunch. The stone would attract attention when the sack was untied.Securing the sack to her side-saddle, she removed the halter-ropes fromthe ponies' necks; then slipping both bridles, she tied them to Donnie'ssaddle. If the horses did not go home at once, or should there be no oneat the Circle Cross for a couple of days, she knew the animals couldgraze and water and would not suffer. They had left Tatters in thestables with water and food. She wished now that she had taken the dogback to its former master. It would miss them.
Heading the horses toward the Hot Springs trail, she slashed Fox acrossthe flank with her whip. The animal gave a snort of surprise then dashedtoward home, while Pet stumbled and tugged behind him down the narrowtrail. She watched them disappear around the curve; but later she heardthe tumbling of small rocks and knew her message was on its way toGlendon.
Walking to the edge of the Box she looked down unflinchingly. There wasplenty time. When everything was dark and quiet, it would be easy totake the sleeping child in her arms; then neither man nor law could takehim from her.