Читать книгу Westy Martin on the Mississippi - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 5

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Westy strolled down to Cole’s Hardware Store later that same day. It was his first visit there in perhaps three years. He had little occasion to go when Norris was away at school and his own absence of a year had seen many changes in Bridgeboro’s Main Street shops. But not so Cole’s—they prospered but never progressed.

As he approached the old store and looked up at the rickety sign precariously waving in the high wind, he did not wonder at Norris’ evident rebellion against his father’s antiquated methods and ideas. Mr. Cole was still living in the year eighteen hundred and ninety nine.

Perhaps there was no one in Bridgeboro who knew the adamantine qualities of Mr. Cole any better than did Westy. And, too, he knew that his thriftiness was taking on a parsimonious look. In truth, he felt that Norris was entirely justified in wanting to get away from it. He sauntered in through the street door and encountered Brower, Mr. Cole’s faithful old clerk who had served the establishment since eighteen hundred and ninety. He had shriveled up in those years of devoted service and looked as dry and uninteresting as the carton of wire nails he was unpacking.

He nodded distantly in answer to West’s friendly greeting and went on with his task. Hearing his friend’s voice, Norris called gaily from a distant aisle where he was perched high on a gaunt, rolling ladder and surrounded by a formidable looking array of stock boxes.

“I’ll be down in a minute, Wes,” he said brightly. “Grab a stool for yourself and get out of the dust. We have enough of it here to fill Main Street.”

Westy laughed, but he shuddered at the thought of happy, carefree Norris spending his life in that desolate, dusty store. “Gosh, I don’t know why I should mind it so,” he whispered to himself as he swung around on one of the aged oak stools that were ranged along in front of the counter. “It oughtn’t to be my funeral what happens to Norrie, but somehow I feel it is.”

That was Westy all over—a creature of sunlight and adventure and he pitied anyone who could not have it in the measure that he had it, especially Norris.

In a few moments, Norris descended the ladder and taking a graceful leap, landed on the worn, gray counter. He sprawled his long, slim body across the counter and sighed, restlessly. “That’s the way it is in this business, Wes. You’re either rushed to death or there’s nothing to do. It’s dead on Friday afternoons but we make up for it tomorrow and tomorrow night.” He grinned mischievously.

“What’s the big joke?” Westy asked, taking another swift revolution on the creaking stool.

“I’m thinking about tomorrow night,” Norris answered in an undertone. “Pop doesn’t know that I’m going to get off yet. I’m going to spring it to him after dinner tomorrow night. Be here and watch the fireworks.”

“I will,” laughed Westy. “Where are you going?”

“Movies,” Norris answered with sparkling eyes. “Trick and I are going—that is, he’s going to meet me later. Want to come?”

“I don’t like the talkies much, Norrie, else I’d come.”

The store door opened at that juncture and a young fellow of their own age strolled leisurely in. His small, light blue eyes glittered at sight of Westy. “Well, if it ain’t our little Arizona cowboy!” he exclaimed jovially.

“It’s me all right,” said Westy, frowning at Trainor’s indolent swagger and sleek, small town elegance. “What are you doing now, Trick, studying your brains away or working yourself to death?”

Trick Trainor bent forward and with his thumb and forefinger, smoothed down the already knife-like crease in his wide-bottomed trousers. Then he glanced at Westy and smiled. “Neither, is the answer to your question,” he said hoarsely. “I’m just having a hard time spending my spending money.”

“I was just asking Wes if he wanted to go to the movies tomorrow night,” Norris interposed.

“I’d rather see real adventure than go to the movies and watch the make-believe,” said Westy, modestly. “Gosh, when a feller’s had a taste of it like I did in Arizona you can’t be satisfied with watching it in the movies.”

“Gee, I don’t blame you,” Norris agreed. Then to the smiling Trainor he said: “Westy may go along on an inspection tour of the big levees with that Major Winton. He’ll go in every big town on the Mississippi. Boy, wouldn’t you like that, Trick?”

“I’ll say,” Trick condescended. “Anything’s better than this berg.”

Norris’ eyes were alight with some inner enthusiasm. “If we had the carfare we could go down,” he said in hushed tones. “Wes says that they’ll give jobs to strong fellers on any of the big levees—even college fellers are working there now.”

“Work!” Trick repeated scornfully. “That doesn’t mean anything to me. And you ought to be the last one in the world to get fussed up over it, Norrie. Your old man doesn’t give you anything but work in this dump. If you said vacation I might listen.”

Norris colored faintly. “Oh, Pop doesn’t mean to be the way he is—he just won’t listen to reason,” he said bravely. “If I could only make him see that I’d like a little fun once in a while.”

“Fun,” laughed Trick, sardonically. “What you need is a lot of spending money and a year’s vacation like I’ve had.”

“You’ll soon be going into your second year, won’t you, Trick?” Westy asked mockingly.

“That’s my funeral,” Trick answered. He jerked his splashy blue tie and patted his tight-fitting collar. “As long as my old man ain’t worrying, why should you?”

Brower, passing at that moment, glared at Trainor. “It’d be better for you if your father did worry some,” he grumbled. “Boys nowadays ain’t got enough on their minds, that’s the trouble.”

Trick smoothed his shining blond hair and laughed. “That’s enough from you, old horse-feathers,” he said with a sneer.

Brower pretended not to hear that retort and went about his duties. Norris frowned and bit his lip. “Be careful, Trick,” he said softly. “I know Brower’s a cranky old duffer, but he’s gotten just like Pop. They’re both rusty and in a rut, that’s all. I wouldn’t want....”

“Cut out the lecture,” Trick interposed lightly. “You’d be a swell guy with me to guide you.”

“It’s my turn to laugh,” said Westy mockingly. Trick turned to say something but voices from the street boisterously claimed his attention. They were the voices of his friends—three counterparts of himself and at their insistent beckoning he swaggered off to join them.

“S’long,” he called over his shoulder. “See you again.”

Norris watched until he and his friends disappeared in Main Street’s throngs. Westy frowned. “Gosh, Norrie,” he said, “there’s something about Trick—I don’t know—he’s in with the wrong bunch of fellers or something. He’s worse than when I saw him last. The way he talked to Brower and all—gosh, I’d be careful of him. I know I’ve talked to you about going away but I really wouldn’t want you to do it. That is, I wouldn’t want you to sneak about anything. I’d tell your father first and if he refuses why then it’s up to you.”

“And have a fine rumpus,” said Norris tersely. “Don’t you worry about me, Wes. I’m not a baby. Gee, I can look out for myself.”

Westy sensed that Norris resented his advice. “Boy, I didn’t mean to preach,” he said apologetically, “but I’m just afraid that you’ll get into trouble through Trick. You heard him laugh about working. He wants easy money and my father says a feller like that always gets into trouble sooner or later. Gosh, I wouldn’t say anything if you weren’t a friend of mine. We were scouts together....”

“Do you think I’d ever forget that!” Norris said with vehemence. “But I’ve got to stick up for Trick, Wes. He’s been friendly ever since I’ve been home and I can’t forget that he’s a lot of noise and he doesn’t mean a bit of harm. My mother says he’ll get over his loafing one of these days and work as hard as any of us.”

“Maybe you’re right,” said Westy thoughtfully. “Gosh, I’m a fine ex-scout to talk about a feller like that, huh? I’ll take it back, Norrie, and believe me I’ll never say a word against Trick until I know it’s the truth.”

“Atta boy, Wes,” smiled Norris. “There’s lots of things Trick does and says that I don’t like exactly but when I’m a friend, I’m a friend.”

Westy had much cause to ponder on the weight of that statement during the coming weeks, but innocently he asked: “Does that include me too, Norrie?”

“I’ll prove it to you,” answered Norris stoutly.

“You can wait until Christmas, huh?” Westy laughed.