CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Glendon, just back from one of his numerous trips to town, tossed aletter to his wife without a word. It fell to the floor, but she reachedfor it quickly, her heart beating fast at the thought it might be areply from her Aunt Jane.
There had been no further discussion between herself and her husbandabout Donnie going away, but she did not know at what hour the ordealmight face her. Even if Aunt Jane declined to advise her in this matter,or aid in any way, Katherine wished that the strained relations betweenherself and the only one belonging to her by ties of blood, might bemore kindly. She had come to understand Aunt Jane's attitude and toacknowledge that the old lady had read Glendon's character better thanthe girl who married him.
Looking back, Katherine saw all too clearly, that what she had mistakenfor love, had been reaction against the dull monotony of her life withAnn and Aunt Jane, and a longing for some outlet for her repressedemotions. This very knowledge made her more staunch in her attitude toGlendon, fearing that her own lack of deep affection made her more aliveto his shortcomings.
Her husband stood watching her, and she knew that whatever might be thecontents of that letter, he would demand the right to see it. She had nofriends who wrote her. If Aunt Jane mentioned receiving any letter, orreferred to the appeal, Glendon would at once understand that his wifehad written without his knowledge and this very fact would precipitatethe catastrophe she had hoped to avert.
The letter was lying face down between them on the floor. Hiding thenauseating fear, she picked it up and turned it over. The engravedaddress of a firm of lawyers met her eyes. Her name, the ranch, typed.
Puzzled, she tore open the long envelope and started to read. Then shelooked up at Glendon, her eyes full of tears, her lips trembling, as shesaid brokenly, "Aunt Jane is dead!"
"Well, what of it?" he demanded. "Do you expect me to howl with grief?You've not heard from her for years. Can't see that it makes muchdifference to you whether she's dead or alive. The old cat!"
Her eyes went back to the pages in her hand. They were typed andlengthy. She read them through, then, without comment handed them toGlendon.
"It's a legacy," she said simply.
He sat down and began perusing the contents of the communication, hisbrows knitting angrily as he grasped the purport.
_Dear Madam:_
Miss Jane Grimes, whose will has been left in our hands, has made you and your son, Donald, beneficiaries subject to certain conditions.
A sufficient sum to educate your son is set aside, all bills to be rendered to the Trust Company and paid by them. Your desires to be considered in the selection of proper school, but one which must be approved by the Trust Company.
Twelve hundred dollars annuity to be paid to you after the death of your husband, James W. Glendon. Until demise of James W. Glendon, the twelve hundred dollars per annum and accruing interest shall be held by the Trust Company.
In event of failure to agree to the terms set forth in the will, copy of which is herewith enclosed, the entire estate is to revert to the Prohibition Society of America. Otherwise, the estate will pass to your son on his thirtieth birthday.
Kindly communicate with us at your earliest convenience, and oblige, Yours very respectfully,
GOODRICH TRUST COMPANY.
P. S. Letter enclosed from Miss Grimes.
The other letter read,
_Dear Katherine:_
You have had time now to realize that my estimate of James Glendon's character was correct. I have been at some pains and expense during the last seven years, since you moved to Arizona, to keep myself informed as to your husband's actions. I feel that I was justified, and it impels me to do all I am able to assist you after I am gone, without being of any comfort or benefit to a man whom I despise.
You are to confer with the Trust Company regarding a school for Donnie. It must be a school where self-respect and honour are taught; in fact, an old-fashioned school where boys are trained in the almost forgotten standards of an old-fashioned gentleman.
The annuity of twelve hundred dollars a year will be paid you at the death of your husband, for I know your inflexible principles and that you will never invoke the aid of the law to protect you by a divorce. It is because I, myself, am opposed to the wide-spread evil of divorce, that I am trying my best to aid you without aiding your husband financially. I wish to prevent him from benefitting in any way. I am confident that you will sorely need enough to provide a roof and food in event of his death, and should I make any other provisions for you and your child, I do not believe either of you would benefit one cent by my legacy.
He is the type of man who has no sense of moral obligation, but I want you to understand that you have my sympathy, and that you always had my love.
Affectionately,
AUNT JANE GRIMES.
Glendon finished the two letters, returned them to his wife with a shrugof his shoulders, saying, "Sweet old cat! She certainly had it in forme from the very first day we met!"
Katherine waited for a violent tirade, but Glendon turned on his heeland left the room. It was a relief to her, but the uncertainty was notdispelled.
Four days went by, and then Katherine broached the topic.
"Jim, I've got to answer that letter."
He was sitting on the porch step smoking, his thoughts evidentlyfar-afield.
"What letter?"
"About the legacy and sending Donnie to school," was the woman's reply.She knew that the future of the child depended on the answer she waitedfrom the child's father. Her hands lay in her lap, gripped tensely, hereyes looked pleadingly at the face of the man.
"Do as you please about it," the words were indifferent. "I haven't anytime to waste talking over these things. This drouth will about wind upmy remnant of credit in Arizona. It won't make any difference to you,for you're heeled for life, if I am out of the way."
She tried to tell him her appreciation, "Jim! I will stand by you, nomatter what comes! With Donnie's education provided for, we can surelywin out together!" she moved impulsively to his side, laid her hand onhis shoulder and stooped over to kiss him, but Glendon's shoulder jerkedaway roughly, as he answered, "Oh, for God's sake, Katherine, stop yourmelodramatics and let me alone!"
Despite the rebuff, her heart was singing with joy as she hurried towrite the Trust Company, and stated that she could have Donnie ready tostart East in two weeks; but that she had not the money, nor could shecome with him on that account. The drouth in Arizona had stagnated allcattle business temporarily.
Katherine explained to the child that his going away was with her fullconsent, and that it did not mean he was to stay away, except duringthe school term. They could be together for the summer vacations. Shealso told him of the strange old aunt who had cared for her owneducation, and who, though dead, now made it possible for him to go to agood school, such as his father could not afford. She made himunderstand, too, that his father had given consent, and without suchconsent, no one could have done anything.
The reply from the Trust Company informed her that one of the members ofthe firm would meet the child at Willcox on a date specified. Thatbusiness matters had made a trip to California imperative, and thereturn trip would be arranged via Willcox, if the child were there atthe time.
Katherine timidly told this to her husband, but met with no opposition.His acquiescence surprised and touched her. She ascribed it to hisdesire to make amends, and her gratitude was pathetic. Yet, knowing hisvacillating character, she hastened to perfect arrangements. Not untilshe saw the child in charge of the man who met them at Willcox, andaccompanied them to the depot platform, did she feel safe. She claspedthe boy in a last, close embrace and watched him wave from the window ofthe train. The "stone wall had toppled over," and the hideous fear oflosing her boy com
pletely was laid to rest.
Aunt Jane had not answered her letter but now Katherine knew that theold lady had understood the situation and set her wits to work to aidthe niece she really loved.
Before the train pulled out Doctor Powell crossed the street, and stoodtalking with Donnie, thus helping both in their battle to be brave.Then, Katherine and Powell stood side by side, watching the train pullaway until it disappeared in the gap between the Graham and Dos Cabezasranges. But, long before the crags intervened, it had vanished from themother's eyes in a blur of tears.
"Tell me," Powell spoke, "Is Donnie going to his grandfather?" He wasthinking of the paper that reposed in the hands of his lawyers, andwondered if Glendon had dared defy him.
"No," Katherine smiled happily, "Jim gave up that intention some timeago. It was a legacy from an aunt of mine, which provides for Donnie'seducation. So, you see, you were right. The stone wall has toppledover!"
Powell's hand gripped hers, "I'm glad for your sake and for Donnie's!"