The Some-Day Country by Luke Short

Author:Luke Short [Short, Luke]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

It was Nathan who wakened first just before false dawn. Rolling out of his blankets laid out beside the sleeping Cap, he listened a moment for any movement behind the canvas partition which would tell him that Silence was awake. Hearing nothing, he stepped out of the wagon, lighted the lamp which was still on the table and set about building a fire in the small iron stove. The racket he made usually wakened Silence and Cap if they were still sleeping.

His morning chores after building the fire were simple enough. From the water barrel ironed to the side of the wagon, he dipped out enough water to fill the tea kettle, which he placed on the stove. Afterwards, he took out tin cups, granite plates, tin knives and forks and set the table. Following that, he went over to the brush corral which held their five horses, drove them down to water at the creek, then staked them out on fresh grass.

Looking around him now, he saw that the lantern was missing from its nail on the wagon side, and he wondered crossly what Silence had done with it. Then it occurred to him that it really didn't matter since it was getting light anyway.

By the time Nathan had staked out the horses, it was full day and the camp was astir. As he approached the wagon, he saw Cap standing under the fly, hands on hips. He was alone, which was strange, Nathan thought. As Nathan stepped under the fly, Cap saw him.

"Where's Silence?" Cap asked.

"Still asleep?"

"She's not asleep. She's not even here. Her blankets weren't slept in."

Cap and Nathan regarded each other soberly and silently. It was pointless for either of them to suggest that Silence might have stayed with a friend since Boomer wagons were far too crowded to sleep guests.

The lantern, Nathan thought, and he was already in motion.

"Where're you going?" Cap asked.

"To the bath house."

Cap fell in beside him, and they both headed toward the creek. Impatiently, Nathan broke into a run, leaving Cap behind. As he rounded the corner of the bath house closest to the creek, the first thing he saw was the half-submerged bucket which Hovey had kicked into the creek. Moving carefully on moccasined feet, Nathan approached the door frame and at one swift glance saw that the door was open and the lantern placed on a bench, still burning. By that time Cap, breathing heavily, rounded the corner and without turning, Nathan held out his arm to bar the way.

'The lantern's still burning," Nathan said. Then he squatted down on his haunches and regarded the scuffed ground in front of the door. The grass on the short path to the creek had been worn away and in the dirt were the prints of the shoes of many women. Close to the door, however, was a set of different prints. They were a man's, Nathan noted. The man had worn cowman's narrow-heeled, pointed boots. The morning dew still held on the path which argued that the prints had been made in the night.

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