breathing hard as his nostrils flared, his eyes wide and
frightened.
Charlie dropped down beside him wiping away the small ball
of foamy white froth that was on his lips. As Charlie raised
his head gently onto his lap, Navajo quieted a little, some-
what soothed by Charlie's comforting talk and nearness.
The convulsions were mild, and he didn't suffer much. He died a few minutes later. For a long time after the last weary sigh came weakly from the old horse, Charlie held Navajo's head close against his lap. Charlie's own head dropped down against Navajo's cheek, there in the darkness. Poor old Nav . . . the trip had been too much for him. Charlie cried softly a long time. Nav was gone. His best friend, and now he was gone.
At last, Charlie went into the Shack again, trying hard not to think. He rummaged around through the back porch shed, finally locating the spade. Pausing as he started through the kitchen, Charlie dug down in the deep cooler box and took out the bag. The whole bag, since it was the last time.
He worked silently, steadily, digging in the soft sand of the corral yard. It wasn't long before he had the grave dug deep enough, down to the cool, moist sand. In the most careful way he could, Charlie eased Navajo's body over, sliding it down into the shallow pit. Then he covered Nav's head over with the piece of oilcloth he had brought out. And in beside it, he placed the bag, with all the remaining apples that had been in the cooler box.
Charlie didn't cry any more when the pit was finally all covered over and smoothed out. But by the time he reached the shed on the back porch to put away the spade, the tears in his eyes felt like hot desert rain. He sat down on the floor beside his bunk, after turning out the light, and leaned his face against the blanket.
The late moon was slowly rising, slanting beams across the floor. Charlie first noticed it as he turned and saw the beam of light moving up his ankle. He had no idea how long he'd been there, and he didn't much care. He didn't even look at the clock as he sat on the bunk, pulling on his boots. Then in a sudden mixture of loneliness and fear, Charlie ran to the phone across the room, trying hard to call anyone, in town. It hadn't changed. The powerlines were making as much static as ever. He got nothing but static.
Going to the door, Charlie breathed the cool air of the desert night into his lungs, to try and stop that deep down pain, though he knew it wouldn't help. He started walking toward the Colorado, silently watching the small shadows of clouds race across his path on the desert floor. There was no way of telling how long he walked, not caring whether it was up river or down river. He vaguely recalled crossing the Dam road, millions and millions of years ago ... it didn't matter.
Then he noticed a faint gray in the East, across the mountain ridges. It must be near to morning ... Dondee ... Biri, they should be far out in space by now. And Elstara ... and the Primate ... his folks.
"Charles Bin," Charlie whispered the words aloud. "My folks."
He shouldn't have said that out loud, for, more than ever now, he realized how lonely he really was. The feeling was worse than ever. His chest ached at the memory of Uncle John, Navajo ... his other family.
Not caring where he walked, Charlie headed around the turn in the road, the small hill up river from the Dam. Then he stopped suddenly. He stood very still. There—it came again just now—that familiar impulse, one he knew so well!
His mind was playing tricks on him, and he'd better run back to the Shack and get some sleep. But as he turned to go, he heard it again—stronger, clearer, unmistakable. Those two familiar impulses. They were as clear and sharp as the early morning desert air. Charlie felt crazy, but he stood there and tentatively answered with his own impulse—then he waited.
Charles—we are waiting, Charles ! We are waiting for you!
There was no denying it now, that joyous impulse, that gentler one mixed with it—he knew them well! Charlie started to run, that last stretch around the hill, to see the Saddle Peaks, Saddle Mountain. And as he did, the tightness in his chest was disappearing. It was going fast as he raced out into the clear open desert. Somehow, as he saw the great filled-in space of Saddle Mountain, just as he had left it, he knew the cure for that old pain deep down inside him. The pain was gone now, and he knew it would be gone forever.
Far in the distance, Charlie saw two tiny, arm-waving figures, running across the sands to meet him. They had
waited all night long for him, and he ran harder now, waving
too.
"Hi, duplicates!" Charlie said aloud, laughing happily.
The first brilliant rays of morning Sunlight shot out across the mountains. The golden Sun had struck the discus flagship with a giant shaft of light. The night was gone.
The great jagged chocolate mountains swung hard in an easy motion—standing up vertically on end, sideways. Then they settled back down, in a swift and graceful curve, to the horizon. From far above the sleeping desert, high above the icy Colorado, a great star ship thundered out silently, into the blackness of space. The lone passenger it had been waiting for, hoping for, was now aboard. Charles Bin was going home.
Star Ship on Saddle Mountain Page 15
