The Forgotten Door Read Free Page A

house, and Little Jon was aware of animals there, waiting. A dog barked furiously at them until he gave it an answering thought of friendliness.
    They got out, and the woman carried him to the door, which the man opened with a key. Lights came on, and he was placed on a couch by a fireplace. It was a comfortable room, paneled in brown wood. He was aware of a flicker of pride in the man, who had built this home with his own hands.
    The man said, “Brooks, you and Sally unload the groceries, then look after the stock.”
    â€œAw, Dad,” Brooks grumbled. “Please, can’t we —”
    â€œDo as I say, and I’ll handle the milking later. There’ll be plenty of time to get acquainted with him. And if your mother will whip up some supper for us, I’ll build a fire and play doctor. This boy needs attention.”
    While the man kindled a fire, Little Jon removed his woven boots and carefully rolled his trousers above his knees.
    The man, turning, saw the bruises and whistled softly. He examined them carefully. “You sure got banged up, young fellow, but I don’t believe any bones are broken. Some of the Bean family liniment ought to do the trick. Good for everything from hornet stings to housemaid’s knee.”
    At that moment, as Brooks and his sister were bringing in the last of the groceries, a truck turned into the lane outside. Little Jon sat up quickly, his lips compressed. There was no mistaking the particular sound of that truck.
    Brooks peered out of the window. “I think it’s Mr. Gilby Pitts, Dad.”
    Thomas Bean frowned. “Wonder what Gilby—” He stopped, and exclaimed, “Hey, young fellow, what’s come over you?”
    Little Jon was on his feet, trembling, trying to limp away. It was not fear that made him tremble, but a sudden return of the morning’s shock, when he had met an evil that was beyond his understanding.
    Mary Bean, entering from the kitchen, put her arm around him and asked softly, “Have you had trouble with Mr. Pitts, dear?”
    At his tight face and nod, she frowned at her husband. “Thomas, he’s afraid of Gilby. I don’t know what’s happened, but I don’t like —”
    â€œTake him into our bedroom and close the door,” Thomas Bean said quickly. “Knowing Gilby, I’d just as soon not —”
    Save for the forgotten boots near the sofa, the room was clear when the knock sounded.
    After an exchange of greetings, Gilby Pitts entered.
    â€œYou folks just git home, Tom?” he asked.
    â€œOh, a short while ago.”
    â€œSee anything kinda unusual on the way back?”
    â€œSaw a nice sunset. Why?”
    â€œH’mp! I don’t pay no mind to sunsets.” Gilby shuffled toward the fireplace, rubbing his unshaven jaw against his high shoulder. His narrow eyes darted about the room. “There’s queer things goin’ on around here, Tom. I don’t like it. You still got that bloodhound you raised?”
    â€œNo. Traded it to Ben Whipple over at Windy Gap for a calf. Trying to train another dog, but he’s a tough one. About got me licked.”
    â€œSure wish you had that hound. I got a mind to go over to Whipple’s an’ borrow him.”
    â€œWhat on earth for?” Thomas Bean looked at Gilby curiously.
    â€œMight as well tell you, Tom. There’s a wild boy loose in this country. Seen ’im with my own eyes. Emma can tell you. I caught the little varmint, but Emma an’ me couldn’t git nothin’ out of him. While we were tryin’ to make ’im talk, he tore loose an’ took off like a streak. Never seen nothin’ like it! Cleared a fence like — like —”
    â€œA wild boy!” Thomas exclaimed. Then he asked softly, “What was he doing when you caught him, Gilby?”
    â€œTrespassin’. An’ I got signs up. I —”
    â€œOh, come now. No one worries about