CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Powell and Chappo were alone in the new home at Hot Springs ranch.Limber had gone to the Diamond H in order to adjust the final details ofthe joint range work.
While the Mexican busied himself in the kitchen, Powell smokedcontentedly in the living-room as he sat before the fire of blazingmesquite knots. He glanced about the home-like place, with itsred-shaded lamp on a large table that was strewn with magazines. A deskoccupied one end of the room and book shelves held well-worn volumes atthe opposite end. The couch, which was covered with a glowing Indianblanket and mannish pillows, harmonized with the massive brown leatherchairs and Navajo rugs on the floor. The pictures bore signatures ofwell-known artists.
"It's just what I've wanted all these years," said Powell aloud. Thecollie pup at his feet looked up with questioning eyes, then telegraphedreply with bushy tail. The man leaned over and patted the dog's headbefore selecting a magazine and settling down for the evening.
"Buenos noches, Senor," Chappo smiled politely, his shabby sombrero inhand.
"Buenos noches, Chappo," answered Powell, whose life for several yearsin a South American mining camp had familiarized him with the languageand the type of people found in all Latin-American sections. A fortunatemining investment during those years had awakened a love of theuntrammeled outdoors, and also made it possible for him to carry on hisplans for a sanitarium.
After Chappo had departed for his bunk-room, the doctor became absorbedin his book. Three hours passed, then the drowsing collie started witha muffled growl and sharply cocked ears.
"What's the matter, old chap?"
The dog leaped up ran to the door whimpering, and Powell went on thefront porch. It was too dark to discern anything and no unusual soundsreached the man, but the dog, with a hysterical yelp darted from theporch into the shadows. The short, sharp barks that broke the stillnesswere barks of welcome such as always greeted the doctor upon his returnto the ranch.
A woman's voice spoke to the dog, and Powell ran quickly in thedirection the collie had taken. The way led to the Circle Cross; thevoice was that of Glendon's wife.
"Be quiet, Tatters," called Powell. As the noise abated, he reachedKatherine Glendon's side, and in the faint light saw that she wascarrying Donnie.
"Oh, I am so glad you are home!" she exclaimed. "Donnie is hurt, I don'tknow how badly--but his arm is broken."
Already the doctor had reached for the child.
"Let me have him. Don't try to explain anything now."
They hurried toward the house, entered the room and Powell laid thechild on the couch. The doctor knelt down beside the almost unconsciousboy, then with gentle touch felt the broken arm. Chappo came through thedoor, his faded brown eyes were full of pity as he watched the motherwho stood with tightly gripped hands waiting the doctor's words.
Donnie looked at her, his quivering lips showed the effort to controlhis emotions when he tried to move his arm and saw that it was broken.
"It really don't hurt very much, Marmee," he said stoutly as Powellfinished the examination and rose to his feet.
"We'll fix you up in no time," the doctor announced cheerily. "Nothingthe matter with you except a broken bone, and that is in the very bestplace it could happen." He turned to Katherine and continued, "Don'tworry, Mrs. Glendon. A healthy child's bones knit quickly and perfectly.It's a simple fracture, fortunately, and above the elbow, so only onebone to knit. He'll be playing around tomorrow."
Powell left her sitting by the couch, and Chappo listened carefully tothe doctor's low-voiced instructions which were spoken in Spanish.
"I understand, Senor," nodded the Mexican. "Lots of times I have helpedwhen there was no doctor. Horses, cows, dogs, and people, all bones arethe same."
The books on the table were removed for rolls of bandages and surgicalsplints, then Powell turned briskly to Donnie and put his arm about thechild's shoulder as he said, "Now, old man, Chappo and I will take careof that arm for you. It may hurt for a few seconds, but after that itwon't bother you at all."
"Let him brace himself against you, Mrs. Glendon," continued thephysician.
Chappo, at a nod from the doctor, grasped the boy's arm and pulledsteadily. Donnie's face paled but not a sound escaped his tightly setlips. The doctor's fingers pressed the fractured bone and held it inplace while the splints were adjusted. A sling in which the hand rested,finished the operation, then Powell arranged the pillows on the couch.
"Take it easy now, old man," he said. "You're the pluckiest boy I everknew."
Donnie tried to smile, but tears filled his eyes and he held out hisuninjured hand to his mother. She sat on the couch beside him smoothinghis hair and talking in a low voice, until at last, with his right handstill clasped in hers, he fell asleep.
"All right now," Powell assured her, as he put away the articles on thetable. "He is exhausted from the nerve shock, nothing more."
The doctor glanced at Katherine and exclaimed, "Bless my heart! Youneed attention almost as badly as Donnie."
He left the room and returned with a glass. "Just a little port wine.Drink every drop of it," he ordered.
Her hand shook as she lifted the glass to her white lips, then she heldout the empty glass and sank into a chair that Powell rolled before thefireplace. Her eyes closed wearily. The doctor understood the over taxednerves, and as he glanced from mother to child, a feeling of rageagainst Glendon consumed him. The only sound in the room was the sputterof the burning wood. Katherine looked anxiously at the sleeping child,then at the doctor.
"He's all right," Powell answered her unvoiced fear. "It had been aterrible strain on you both. The bone will begin to knit in a few daysand Donnie will have nothing to remind him of the accident in a shorttime. It's part of a boy's life to have such things as broken legs andarms," he smiled.
"Please don't think I am ungrateful. There are some emotions one almostcannot express, because we feel them too deeply for words. I don't knowhow to thank you."
"How did it happen?" asked Powell, trying to divert her from any senseof obligation.
"It came so suddenly that it dazed me," she began. "Last summer the wallof the bedroom bulged and Juan made new adobes to fix it; but Mr.Glendon has been too busy to attend to it. We never thought of danger,for an adobe wall often stands for years with big cracks in it, youknow. Donnie was sleeping next to the wall in my bed when the crashcame. The wall fell outward, but part of the adobe struck his arm. Itwas dark. I spoke to him and he did not answer. I thought he was deaduntil I heard him moan." She stopped and bit her lip fiercely.
The doctor placed a fresh log on the fire, and while he prodded theembers, the woman gained control of her voice.
"I lit the candle, but when I looked at him he was unconscious. I liftedhim and when the bed covers fell from his arm, I saw the bone had beenbroken. Then--I thought of you, and brought him here."
Powell knew that her fear that the child she carried might be dying inher arms, or that she might not find anyone but Chappo at the Springs,must have made the three-mile walk seem endless.
"Were you alone?"
"Yes. Juan is on the San Pedro for ten days and my husband went toWillcox yesterday morning. He does not expect to return home for a week.I had no horse or I could have ridden here."
"You and Donnie must go to bed now and rest," commanded the doctor,cutting short the words she was about to utter. "I have a guest roomand Chappo sees to everything necessary, so you need not fear you arecausing me the least inconvenience. Tomorrow we can drive down to yourplace and take inventory of the damage. Since Juan has the adobes readyto use, Chappo and I can fix up the wall. I learned all about adobeswhile I lived in South America eight years ago."
"That was the same year we came here," commented the woman.
Powell smothered an ejaculation of indignation and wonder at herendurance of such a life. "Yet," he mused, "a bruised flower becomesmore fragrant." His elbow rested on the mantle and he looked down,studying her face line by line. A
gain that vague resemblance baffled himuntil he recalled a stream near his boyhood home, where a shallowcurrent reached a bend and formed a deep pool. He had loved to sprawl onthe bank and gaze into the wonderful, ever-changing reflections, whererough trees were softened, the sky became more blue and the many-huedflowers more beautiful. It was a magic pool to his boyish eyes; in lateryears be called it his Pool of Illusion.
Down in its mysterious depths lived a shadowy form. A woman's face withsteadfast eyes looked back into his own, understanding his unspokendreams, while her slender white hands were held out to him. The longingto touch them was actual physical pain, and often he dived into thewater, but the vision vanished in the ripples. He had gone his way,looking into many women's faces in many lands, always hoping to findwhat he had seen in his Pool of Illusion, but the years of search hadbeen fruitless.
Tonight the firelight from his hearth flickered across that dream face.
The dream and reality blended so perfectly that it startled him whenKatherine rose from her chair and held out her hand, saying, "I do thankyou with all my heart. I shall never forget what you have done for us.Maybe some day I can show my gratitude."
"Please don't speak of it again," he replied, and seeing Donnie on hisfeet, Powell added, "Good night, old man.
"It's lucky that adobe fell on the left hand, for it's much harder tolearn to use it. My right arm was broken when I was your age. It'sfunny, though, how quickly my left hand learned to work like its twinbrother. After my arm was well, I used my left hand much of the time."
Mother and child entered the cheerful guest room and for a while Powellheard their voices through the closed door. He sat by the dying embersof the fire. He had found the woman of the Pool. She was the wife of hisneighbour Glendon. The realization of his dream was more unattainablethan ever, but his bitterness held an undercurrent of happiness inknowing that he might be able to ease the burden she was bearing sobravely.
With a sudden movement he touched the chair where her head had rested.Then he turned out the lamp and went to his own room, but that night inhis dreams he saw the Woman of the Pool sitting again before hisfireplace, and a child leaned against her shoulder. As he drew nearer,her lips smiled and her eyes met his in perfect confidence andunderstanding.
He held out his arms to her and the child, for they were his own.
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