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Trading Jeff and His Dog

<h2>10. BOMBSHELL</h2> Dan Blazer, going up the trail toward Granny Wilson's with the shotgun in one hand and Pal's leash in the other, was a little angry and more than a little resentful. Though Jeff had said that Dan was going to take care of Granny, the boy had convinced himself that he was actually to be taken care of. He resented it because he and Jeff had a pact—Dan had promised to do anything Jeff said—but Jeff seemed to have forgotten. If he wanted to stay at Granny's, he had only to say so and nothing else was necessary. Dan turned to pull the balky Pal along. "Come on!" he ordered. "Come on, Pal! Jeff's going to Ackerton and he doesn't want either you or me with him!" Pal, who had wanted to go with Jeff but who was beginning to get the idea that he was not supposed to, stopped straining back on the leash. He was not wholly abandoned, as he had been when Johnny went away, and that was a comfort. Dan brightened a little. Jeff had not only let him have the shotgun and the six shells but had insisted that he take them. The very fact that Jeff had trusted him with both made him feel more like a man and less like a little boy. He gripped the shotgun tightly. Some day he would look down the rib that separated its two barrels and see the man who had shot his father. Dan's eyes flashed, then softened. That day must not be now; he had promised Jeff that he wouldn't shoot anybody and Jeff was very smart. Dan skipped along. Save for the one dark cloud, the future glowed with bright promise. Jeff had promised to make a peddler of him and that would be the ideal life. Dan thought of it during his waking moments and dreamed of it in his sleep. All he had to do in order to make his dreams come true was obey Jeff, and that was a small price to pay for the reward it offered. Jeff was all-wise, all-good, all-powerful, and maybe he had really sent Dan to take care of Granny. When Granny's green hill came in sight, Dan's spirits were almost completely lifted. The fact that he wished so desperately to take a man's part helped convince him that he was taking one, and he forgot his resentment to greet Granny with a smile. "Good morning, Granny." "Dan! My land! Where's Jeff?" "Gone to Ackerton and he'll be gone for some time. He—" Dan hesitated. "He sent me and Pal up to look after you while he's away." Granny reacted precisely as Jeff had thought she would. "Now that was a kindly thought! I really miss a man around the house. Come in and let me set you a dish of cookies." Granny's wholehearted acceptance of himself and his mission removed most of the lingering suspicion Dan retained that Granny was really supposed to take care of him. He swelled with newfound importance and felt a profound gratitude toward Jeff for sending him on a man's job. The cookies Granny set before him were tangible proof that taking care of her would not be without its rewards. With the appetite of a dragon and the digestion of a goat, and despite his substantial breakfast, Dan finished all the cookies and wished there were more. But it would hardly be polite to ask. "I can stay until Jeff gets back, Granny," he said. "You won't have to worry while I'm here." "I won't," she asserted. "I just won't fret even one particle. It's such a comfort to have you. What's Jeff doing in Ackerton?" "Trading. We've been working pretty hard and now he has to trade everything we got." Dan thought wistfully of Jeff, who in the boy's mind was nine feet tall and possessed all the capacities of a wizard. "He'll do all right, too. Those city people, they're not near as smart as Jeff." "They couldn't be," Granny agreed solemnly. "That Jeff, he's man all through." "We're partners," Dan said. "Partners in everything. Any of those Whitneys been bothering you, Granny?" "Not of late." Granny looked a bit puzzled. "Why do you ask about the Whitneys?" "Because," Dan said fiercely, "one of them shot my pop and soon's Jeff and me find out which one, we're going to shoot him!" "My land! How you talk!" Dan felt suddenly that he was a little boy again, and justly censured by an adult for lack of wisdom. He all but blushed. "We're not going to do it right away." "That's nice," Granny said. "Now I have to take care of you. What needs taking care of first?" "You might go see that no pesky thing's troublin' my sheep." Pal at his heels, Dan raced down to where the fat sheep were at their endless task of cropping grass. They looked at him with mildly surprised eyes and continued to crop. Dan circled the sheep three times, petted the gentle creatures, and was more than a little disappointed because there seemed to be no immediate need of his protective services. But he did not lose hope, there was still a lot of Granny's hill left. Molly, Granny's placid old cow, and Ephraim, Granny's mule, were as well off as the sheep. Dan sighed, then became a little excited when four blackbirds winged out of the trees to scratch in Granny's garden. He stalked them carefully. But before he could come near enough, Pal charged the blackbirds and sent them in jittery flight back to the trees. Dan circled the foot of the hill, looking hard for something from which Granny should be protected. But all he found was a cottontail rabbit that confounded the fleet Pal by ducking into a burrow three inches in front of his nose. Dan wandered back to Granny's house just in time for lunch. That, consisting of bread much softer and better than any Abel Tarkman sold, butter, delicately-spiced strawberry preserves, goblets of milk, and a crisp apple turnover smothered in cream, was better than any Dan had eaten, even at the Jackson School for Boys. Suddenly homesick, he thought of the school and all it had meant to him, then put the thought behind him. He had left the school because he was driven by a mission that would not let him rest and would never permit him to have peace until it was fulfilled. Until it was, he must think of nothing else; he shouldn't even think seriously of going peddling with Jeff but he couldn't help that. Then his faith restored itself. Jeff was all-wise and all-powerful. Jeff had promised him that justice would be done. Dan was a bit ashamed of his doubts.... Unable to swallow another bite, he pushed his plate back and lingered over it. Granny, who hadn't had a hungry boy to satisfy in far too long, was shaping an apple pie at the table and Dan's eyes lingered on her. The big wood stove cast a pleasant glow into the room, and tantalizing odors promised much to come. Dan licked his lips, the faint beginning of fresh hunger rising on the very heels of the meal he had just eaten. Dan wrinkled his brows. He had been sent to look after Granny, and look after her he would. But she didn't seem to need any looking-after right now and the forest surrounding the hill was an inviting place. He asked, "Is everything all right, Granny?" "Land! It's right as rain since you got here. Haven't felt this safe in a dog's age." "Would you still feel safe if Pal and me went down in the woods this afternoon?" "Can you beat that? I was just about to ask you if you would! What you goin' to do there, Dan?" "Look around and make sure nothing's lurking too near." "Good! Good! If you can spare the time, you might bring a few trout for us to sup on." "Oh, boy!" Dan whooped from his chair. With Pal bustling at his heels, he ran out to the garden. He loved to fish, his father had taught him how to catch trout, and Granny's accustomed tackle, a hook and line tied to a willow pole, hung over the door. In the spring's damp overflow Dan grubbed until he had filled his pocket with fat worms. Then he snatched the pole from over the doorway and raced down to the little stream that from the hilltop wound like a silver ribbon through the forest. He strung a worm on his hook, crawled cautiously up to a pool and dropped the worm gently, watching with bated breath the ripples that spread. A trout surged from the depths, struck viciously, and Dan drew his wriggling catch in. Deftly he slipped it onto a willow stringer. Stringer in one hand, pole in the other, he sneaked up to another pool and caught another trout. Mindful of the pies Granny was making, he decided that he needed no more than two trout for himself because his appetite must be saved for more important things. Granny might eat three. Dan had four trout on his stringer when Pal growled. Hackles raised, ears alert, nose questing, he peered up-stream. Dan stopped, not knowing what was coming but sure that Pal wouldn't growl for no reason. Dragging the dog with him, the boy slipped into the brush and a moment later Barr Whitney appeared. He was fishing, too, but instead of a willow stringer he carried a buckskin creel into which he slipped trout as he caught them. Dan held his breath and at the same time did his best to control his rising rage. He wished mightily that he had brought the shotgun, but so far there had been no indication that he would need it. Watching Barr come nearer, he made himself very small. If he did not move, maybe Barr wouldn't see him. But when the man came opposite Dan, he swerved and splashed across the creek. Trousers dripping, seeming like some wet monster that emerged from the water, he had only a glance for the growling Pal. But he thrust a hand inside his shirt and the boy knew that he had a weapon of some sort concealed there. Dan quieted the growling Pal by gently stroking him. "What be ye doin' here, boy?" Dan glared. "I don't talk to no blamed Whitneys!" Barr's eyes clouded. "Mind your tongue, boy." "I won't mind it! But one of you Whitneys will wish you'd minded yourselves when Jeff and me find out who killed my pop!" "We will?" "Yes, you will! And me and Jeff are on the track." "You be?" Jeff's image came to stand beside Dan, so that he no longer felt small, alone and so terribly frightened. With his friend beside him, he could do anything. "Ha!" he exploded. "You think Jeff's a peddler, but he's not." Dan cast desperately for an apt description and thought of the most awesome image his mind could conjure up. "He's a policeman. A real policeman. Now he's gone into Ackerton for more policemen, and soon's he gets some, they'll get every one of you darned Whitneys. You wait! You'll be sorry, Jeff said so!" "So-o," Barr Whitney purred. "So-o." "Aren't you—Aren't you going to do anything to me?" "Can't think of ary I'd do, 'cept mebbe string you on the hook an' use you for bait." No longer interested in fishing, Barr Whitney splashed back across the creek and disappeared in the forest. Immensely gratified, Dan watched him go. He'd told those Whitneys. <hr style="width: 45%;" /> Except that the fluffy kitten did not like the bird cage and expressed his dislike with frequent far-carrying "miaouws" that attracted the attention of everyone else in the day coach, Jeff's trip from Ackerton to Delview was almost routine. It was not entirely so because twice the conductor threatened either to take the kitten into the baggage car or throw Jeff and his luggage off the train. Both times a chorus of dissent rose from the six other passengers in the car. The train did not make as many stops as the one from Delview to Ackerton had, but it was equally slow and the kitten provided diversion. When they finally reached Delview, the kitten stood erect and glared at everything in sight. Obviously he was a creature of great character and he would fit in perfectly on Granny's hill. Pack on his back and the caged kitten dangling from his right hand, Jeff strode down Delview's main street. He had decided, as he usually did, to guide himself by whatever circumstances seemed to require. If he felt too tired, he would put up at one of Delview's two hotels overnight. But the events of the day, particularly his astounding success with Granny's tapestries, had roused him to a pitch of enthusiasm so high that he was not at all tired. The star-lighted night was ideal for walking and Jeff made up his mind to go right through to Smithville. He should get there some time in the early morning hours. He was anxious to see Dan again and to watch Granny's eyes when he told her what he had done with her tapestries. He was hungry, but the first café he entered was one of Delview's exclusive eating places and the late diners who still lingered there stared in horror at the caged kitten. A waiter asked him to leave, and Jeff did not feel like arguing the point. The second café, not so pretentious and presided over by a fat man with a completely bald head and a clean apron, was less particular. Jeff laid his pack down, put the cage on a chair and ordered, "Steak, fried potatoes and coffee. Heavy on all three and a saucer of milk for the kitten." "Sure, bud, sure." The fat man poked a pudgy finger at the kitten, who crouched in the cage and evidently imagined himself unseen. He sprang suddenly, and when he leaped against the cage's door, it burst open. The kitten slithered through, jumped to the table, gave everything in the restaurant a haughty look, scrambled to Jeff's shoulder and began to purr contentedly. "Cute lil' feller!" the fat man said admiringly. "Why do you keep him caged?" Jeff saw opportunity. The cage had been only a means for getting the kitten from Ackerton to Granny's. But if the kitten preferred Jeff's shoulder, he was welcome to ride there. The fat man was obviously interested in the cage. "Usually I don't," Jeff admitted. "I got the cage to bring him through from Ackerton." He added, as though it were an afterthought, "Darn' thing cost me two dollars." "Hmm. Need the cage any more?" "I don't know." "My wife's been lookin' for such. She keeps birds. What'll you take for it?" Jeff forsook bargaining. His pack was full, and since the kitten seemed happy on his shoulder, he did not want to carry the cage to Smithville. "Swap for the dinner." "It's a swap." The fat man, who apparently was also the cook, went into the kitchen. He came back with a platter containing a huge steak and an ample supply of potatoes. He also had a mug of coffee that held at least a pint. The kitten scrambled from Jeff's shoulder to the table top, turned up his nose at the saucer of milk placed before him, and looked appealingly at Jeff's steak. Jeff grinned. This kitten knew what he wanted and was willing to try for it. Jeff fed him a small piece of steak, then another, and a third. Only when Jeff firmly refused to give him any more did he turn and lap up every bit of the milk. When it was time to go, he climbed back on Jeff's shoulder and pressed his naked nose and pads against his friend's neck, where they would stay warm. Jeff walked swiftly through the cool night, stopping every hour or so to rest. He enjoyed every second of it. Dawn was faint in the sky when they came to Smithville, and rising and stretching on Jeff's shoulder, the kitten greeted it with a hearty miaouw. "Who's there?" It was the constable, Bill Ellis. "Jeff Tarrant," Jeff called. "I've been waiting for you." Even though the constable was only half-seen, there was about him a great hesitation that was mingled with a certain furtiveness as he came through the darkness. Jeff waited, more than a little surprised. Bill Ellis came nearer and whispered, "Where you been?" "Why—Ackerton." The kitten miaouwed again and Bill Ellis took a backward step. "What's that?" "Just a kitten that I'm bringing to Granny Wilson." There was vast urgency in Bill Ellis' voice as he said, "Don't go there. Turn around and get out of the hills. Don't come back." "Why?" "Never mind why. Just go." "I'm going to Granny's." Bill Ellis' shrug was more sensed than seen. "You got a gun?" "Why—no." "Where is it?" "At Granny's. By the way, here's the letter from the school." He took the letter from an inside pocket and handed it over. Bill Ellis accepted it, but it seemed unimportant. "If you won't run," he said, "get to Granny's and get your gun while darkness lasts. Don't go anywhere again without it." "But—" "Do as I say and—" there was a definite note of fear in Bill Ellis' voice—"don't tell anybody I told you." He turned and walked swiftly away, as though the peddler had suddenly become an outcast or tainted being with whom he must not have further contact. Jeff stood a moment, completely bewildered. Why this unexpected warning? What had come into the hills since he'd left for Ackerton? Why was Bill Ellis afraid? Jeff called softly, "Bill." The constable waited. Jeff trotted to him. "Tell me some more." "I've told you enough. Don't go out unless you can protect yourself. I can do nothing for you, and the best thing you can do is run." "Nobody would gun down an unarmed man." "Don't be a fool." "I see. Bill, did Johnny Blazer have a gun when he was found?" "No. Leave me now. It's growing lighter." Jeff resumed his journey up the road, and the kitten stretched all four paws against his neck. Shaking his head uncertainly, he did not turn aside when he came to Johnny Blazer's cabin. Bill Ellis had told him to get to Granny's and arm himself—before daylight. He'd better do it. The sun was just rising when Jeff came to Granny's green hill, and he heard Pal's happy roar of welcome. He quickened his steps, and even on this hill of peace he had an uncomfortable feeling that he was watched by furtive eyes. Johnny Blazer had been shot down in cold blood. At the door, he composed himself. Granny and Dan must not be worried. When he entered the cabin, an ecstatic Pal flung himself forward and Jeff tickled the big dog's ears. He turned to meet Granny, who always rose with the sun. "Hiya, Granny!" He plucked the kitten from his shoulder. "I brought you a present!" "Oh, the love!" Granny cuddled the kitten against her cheek. Knowing experienced hands and instantly liking Granny almost as much as she loved him, the kitten licked her cheek with a pink tongue and fell to purring. Rubbing sleepy eyes, pajama-clad Dan came from his bedroom. "Jeff!" "Hi, Dan!" "My land!" Granny's eyes sparkled like sunshine on dewdrops. "I'll make some breakfast right away." "What'd you see in Ackerton?" Dan asked eagerly. "What'd you see in Ackerton, Jeff." "Hang on to your horses!" Jeff laughed. "I'll tell you in good time. Granny, I sold your tapestries." "Did you now?" "Couldn't get what they're worth, though," Jeff said sadly. "Land! Had no idea they were worth anything." "I got two hundred dollars." "Jeff!" Granny almost dropped the kitten. "I did, Granny. Four times as much as I told you I'd get." "But—" "And there's a place for more." Granny stroked the kitten and there was a look of near sadness in her eyes. After a moment she said gently, "It seems almost sinful, that much for aught so small." "It's not," Jeff assured her. "The man who bought them from me will make a profit, too." "He can do that and welcome he is. Land! Who would have thought it? Two hundred dollars! Half would do me for a year." "All would do you for two years." Granny shook her head. "No, Jeff. For sixty-four years I've abided here and never had a hundred dollars all at once. Never missed it, either, 'cept when Enos was sick. I might have paid a doctor for him. If you see fit to give me half, I'll take it should I have need of aught that is not at my hand. Half is yours." Jeff hesitated. He worked for profit, but somehow it hadn't seemed right to make any on Granny. Still, as far as she was concerned, a hundred dollars was a vast sum and obviously she had gone as far as she intended to go. Granny laughed. "We'll leave it that way and I'll have more ta—Oh, hang! I keep forgettin' the name. More cloths the next time you go. It seems a mort of pay for what pleasures me so dear. Now I'll rouse up some eatables." She baked delicious pancakes, fried a heaping platter of sausage and put them on the table. Granny and Dan listened intently, prompting him if he omitted the smallest detail, as Jeff told everything about his trip to Ackerton. When he had finished, he looked pointedly at Dan, declaring, "And finally, I arranged for you to go back to school in September." "I'm not going," Dan said firmly. "You must go," Jeff urged. "Dan, you and I can build up a good business here, but unless we always want to carry peddlers' packs, one of us has to know business methods. The place to learn them is in school." "I want to carry a pack." "You'll have your chance; it isn't going to work that fast. Think of ten or maybe even fifteen years from now. Imagine a trading post in Smithville and a store in Ackerton with BLAZER AND TARRANT ENTERPRISES in gold letters a foot high across both of 'em." Jeff grinned. "We could cut out the Ltd. If we were partners, we wouldn't be limited any more." Dan said stubbornly, "I can't go." "Could you if—if you were satisfied about your pop?" Dan hesitated. "You promise, Jeff?" "I promise." "Before I go?" "Before you go." "Then," Dan sighed, "I reckon I can go back." "Good," Jeff said quickly. "Now I want you to stay here and keep Pal with you. I'm going away for a little while." "Where you going, Jeff?" "Into Smithville and I'm taking the shotgun." "I'm going with you." "Not this time. I have to go alone." "But—" "It's wisdom he speaks," Granny said softly. "You bide here, Dan." "Well—When you coming back, Jeff?" "I don't know exactly. But I will be back." "You take a care." "Now don't be fretting about me." Jeff grinned. But he was not grinning when, with the shotgun in his right hand and the paper-loaded shells in his pocket, he left Granny's house and hit the trail back to Smithville. The time for a showdown was here. Jeff planned as he walked. He had always known that he would stop wandering and settle down when and if he found a place he liked well enough, and he liked these hills. Though he'd never been able to imagine himself confined to any one small spot, the hills were not small. They presented a challenge he liked. The fact that he'd have to fight for his right to be here, and that there were problems to be solved, was not extraordinary. He'd always had to fight and there'd always been problems. Jeff knew suddenly what he had never known before, his whole life had been almost desperately lonely. He hadn't thought of it in such a light because there had been no fair basis for comparison. Never having been anything except lonely, he could not know what it was to be otherwise. Now he had Dan, Granny, Pal, and a genuine love for all three. They were his, and having them was good. He had no illusions about becoming very rich, for he saw no great wealth in the offing. There would be a comfortable living, with always enough variety so that there would be continual zest. The hill people needed what the outside world could offer, but without someone to act as intermediary, they had almost no chance of getting it. Those of the outside world delighted in the products of the hills, and they had the money to pay for them. Nobody would be cheated. Jeff put these thoughts behind him. First things must always be first, and before he did anything else he had to meet, and fight, whoever was gunning for him. For Dan's sake, and his own conscience, he must bring to justice whoever had shot Johnny Blazer. He could do neither with words, for it had come to guns. But before he could use the shotgun effectively, he had to have live ammunition for it. He wished mightily that he had left at least one shell loaded. Wanting only to see if anything had been disturbed there, Jeff swung aside when he came to Johnny Blazer's cabin. He entered. Inside, each man armed with a rifle that swung at once to cover Jeff, were Pete, Barr, Yancey, Grant and Dabb Whitney. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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