The Forgotten Door Read Free Page B

trespassing signs except in hunting season. You know that. We cross each other’s land all the time. Saves miles of travel by the roads. I do it all the time when I’m out rock-hunting.”
    â€œThis is a heap different. I been missing things. I —”
    â€œDid it ever occur to you,” Thomas Bean interrupted, “that this boy you’re talking about could be lost, and in need of help? Why, he could be badly hurt —”
    â€œ He weren’t hurt! You shoulda seen ’im jump!”
    â€œThen you must have frightened him badly. Why did you frighten him?”
    â€œThe varmint come sneakin’ down to that west field o’ mine with the deer. He —”
    â€œWith the deer! ”
    â€œThat’s what I said. With the deer . Just like he was one of ’em!”
    Thomas pursed his lips, then said dryly, “You wouldn’t have been taking a shot at one, would you, Gilby?”
    Gilby Pitts spat angrily into the fireplace. “Fool deer been ruinin’ my field. Man’s got a right to scare ’em away.”
    â€œBut the boy —”
    â€œHe took off, an’ got tangled in the barbed-wire fence, or I’d never acaught ’im. Acted like he didn’t know the barbed wire was there. But he knowed it the second time, when he busted loose. Sailed right over it like he had wings. I tell you he’s wild. Wild as they come.” Gilby stopped. In a lower tone he added, “An’ that’s not all. He ain’t natural . I don’t like unnatural things around. If there’s more like ’im, we ought to know about it.”
    There was a moment’s silence. In the adjoining bedroom, where every word of the conversation could be heard, Mary Bean had opened the liniment bottle and was rubbing Little Jon’s bruises. There was wonder in her eyes as she whispered, “Is that true about the deer? You were — friendly with them?”
    He nodded, and struggled to fit new words to thoughts. But the words were too few.
    â€œYou’re an odd one,” she whispered. “I wish you could remember your name. Try real hard.”
    â€œJ — Jon,” he said. The name came unbidden to his lips. There was more to it, but the rest would not come.
    They fell silent, for Thomas Bean was talking.
    â€œGilby,” said Thomas, “if I were you, I’d go sort of easy about this. Suppose a stray kid from over at the government camp got lost. If he fell and hurt himself, he could wander around in a daze, not even knowing who he was. If you actually found him, and scared him away instead of trying to help him, you’d be in for a lot of criticism.”
    â€œWell, mebbe …”
    â€œWhat’s more, this isn’t hunting season, and you’d be in for more trouble if people thought you were trying to sneak some venison.”
    â€œNow lissen to me, Tom —”
    â€œI’m only telling you the truth, Gilby. Anyway, it’s quite possible that some Cherokee boys from the Reservation came over this way on a hike. You know how they are in the spring.”
    â€œAw, I dunno. Emma didn’t think he was no Cherokee.” Gilby shuffled around, and suddenly muttered, “I declare. Them’s queer-lookin’ boots yonder.”
    In the bedroom, Mary Bean stood up quickly, alarm in her blue eyes. She went to the door and started to slip into the hall, but at that instant Sally darted past her from the kitchen.
    â€œHello, Mr. Gilby,” Sally chirped brightly, scooping the boots from under Gilby Pitt’s nose. “My goodness, Mommy will scalp me if I don’t get the mud off these.” She skipped back into the kitchen, calling, “Mommy, when are we going to have supper? I’m hungry! ”
    â€œComing in a minute, dear,” her mother answered.
    Gilby Pitts scowled, rubbed his chin on his high shoulder, and finally shambled toward the door. “Reckon