Norton, Andre - Novel 32 (17 page)

"Coffee,"
Mrs.
Wildhorse
dictated, "canned
peaches, some mixes—say, gingerbread, and
biscuits, and a couple of cake ones—matches,
syrup, pancake mix, onions,
potatoes
—"

"That sounds like an awful lot," Libby commented.

"Judging by today, they are going to need
every bit of it," her mother
answered. "Put
down
lemonade mix, Christie, crackers, cheese,
cookies—I
would say that visitors here are only
beginning
to come. Even more will come over
the
weekend."

Christie hoped they would not. She did not
mind people like Mr. Simmons and
some of the
others. But Mr. Toner—if he could be counted
as visitor—she did not want to see him again!
Mr. Toner was like a big black shadow
stretching over the whole station, tall and thin
though
he was. She did not want to think about
him
and what he said. But she kept doing so
in spite of all her efforts.

"This is just a lull before another storm, I sup
pose," Father said. "At
least no one has shown
up yet this morning. Maybe they'll hold off if
Wylie sets things in motion at
the courthouse.
I'll
be glad of a breathing spell. One good
thing—the publicity has tied Toner's hands for a while.
Wylie and the council members in
formed him that his court order is suspended
in the public interest. Wylie told
me he's making a point of seeing Judge
Framely
to
that ef
fect this
morning. He was very sure
Framely
would agree."

"All this uncertainty."
Mother shook her
head. "We're worse than just
camping out
now. I never know when I'll
have to be packing
up again. And that mess
out in the yard—"

"I know. When Colby gets here we surely
must be able to
sort everything out. He said
over the
phone he's making it in at least two
days.
Meanwhile, Patricia, we'll just have to
sit tight and do a lot of hoping. However, we
can turn to in the yard and clear up some of
that. If the public descends upon us again in
flocks—or droves—or whatever you want to term it—of cars, we can make slightly
more
room. If we didn't have this trouble with Toner,
all this publicity would be the best thing we
could hope for. Simmons wants to bring in his
traveling TV crew as soon as they reach Giles-
burg."

There
was no news from Sheriff Wylie, and,
while a
few cars did come out from town (the
delivery
truck from the market one of them),
there
was no jam-up in the yard such as there
had been before. Christie was counting days impatiently. She could only
guess how long it
might take her
letter to reach
Maine
—maybe
a week. Then, if the postman did
know a Wood-
bridge
family, how long would it be before an
answer came? Always assuming they would
answer at all. To her even one
week seemed
to be a
very long time.

However, they were not just going to sit
around waiting for anything—Mr. Toner, a let
ter, or the sheriff. They helped Father
pile
and store into neater stacks the material to be used
in restoring the station. Pinto came back out of
hiding, though he still disappeared quickly into
the smithy at the arrival of any new car, slam
ming the door behind him. Nor did he bring the
horses and the burro family back into the cor
ral, stating that visitors upset them.

"I'd say we've done a pretty good day's
work," Father announced that
evening. "In
fact
we've done so well we deserve a vacation.
So suppose we each think of what we would
like to do most. You first,
Pat." He looked to
Mother.

"Really want to do?" She laughed.
"Really
truly?"
That was what
Parky
always asked.

"Really truly!"
Father said firmly.

"Then I would like to go in to town, have
my hair washed and set, get a
facial, and have a dinner I haven't cooked myself in a nice air-
conditioned restaurant."

She paused, looking from one to another of them. "I
see my kind of really truly is not in
favor with the rest of you. But suppose I say
it is really truly for me alone,
that none of the rest of you
have
to share it? Would
that be all
right?
You see,
Marina
has an appointment
with
Mr. Simmons, who wants to interview her
on
TV. I could ride in with her, so I wouldn't
need the car."

"Done!"
Father slapped his hand down on
the table so hard his coffee mug
bounced.
"Now—Perks,
Parky
. What's your really truly."
The twins always chose the same
thing, so a
single
question was all that was needed.

"Go out there."
Parky
waved a hand toward
the
open door. "See some place we haven't
been to before."

"Christie?"

She was undecided. It would be nice to go
in town with Mother. But just
sitting around
waiting
at the beauty shop would be boring.

"I don't know—maybe to go off, like
Parky
said."

"Neal?"

He was excited and ready. "I'd like to go
and see the ghost town Pinto told
us about—
Darringer
. I've never seen a ghost town—ex
cept on TV."

"And you, Harvey?" Mother asked the
question now.

"Oddly enough, I had Neal's suggestion in
mind. Lucas is back and would be
willing to
guide us.
Libby and
Toliver
would probably
like to go along—leave you girls
free for your
day in
town. As I understand, there's enough
of a road left so we can use the station wagon.
I want to take some pictures. We
can carry a
picnic
lunch and water with us."

"You think it wise—just to leave here, I
mean?" Mother asked.

"Now that all the 'treasure'
is safe in town,
yes.
Nothing worth
taking here.
If any sight
seers come, they can poke around and Pinto
will keep an eye on things. Be a
good idea for
all of
us to get away for a day. However, if
we're going to
Darringer
we'll have to get an early start. That means bedtime for all you ad
venturers now."

"What do adventurers do?" Perks wanted
to know.

"Have adventures—like explorers," Neal
answered. "We were
adventurers when we
found
that cave, weren't we, Dad?"

"Very much so, I would say."

"Maybe we'll find something at
Darringer
!"
Parky
was excited.

"Don't get your hopes up too high,
Parky
.
Darringer
has been visited
by a lot of explorers.
I'm afraid you can't
count on much luck there.
Now bed for each and every one of you—and
that pronto!"

"Chris," Perks said as they settled down for
the night, "does a ghost
town have real ghosts
in
it?"

"Of course not!
It's just a town where every
body moved off and left the buildings standing
empty. You know—like on the TV when a cow
boy rides into one of those places and there
are tumble weeds blowing around and he's all
alone—"

"But sometimes there're bad men hiding out
there waiting to get him,"
Perks said uncer
tainly.

"That just happens in stories, Perks. Father and Mr.
Wildhorse
will be with us. No, this is
just an empty town
we're going to—nobody's lived there for a long time."

"Why did everyone go off and leave it?"

"Because there wasn't any
more silver to be
dug
out of the mines there.
Most of the men
worked in the mines. So when there was no
more work they had to go and find someplace
where there was."

"Oh." Perks seemed satisfied.

Christie lay in her bunk with Shan purring into her ear
and thought about
Darringer
and
the ghost towns she had seen on TV. Perks was
right about the herd always getting into trouble
in
one. Usually someone was hiding out, ready
to
start a fight. But that was only in stories. All they would see would be some
lizards and spi
ders in the old
buildings.

It was early the next morning when they were
called. And on the table in the
big room there was not just one picnic basket but two. Father
filled the canteens and some extra water bottles
and Mother put out breakfast.

"There's supposed to be a spring near the
town, but the old pumps are certainly not work
ing," Father said. "Water is the one
thing we
want to be sure we have. Lucas will load some,
too." He screwed the lid on the last
container.
"I suppose Shan is
going as well as Baron?"
He
looked to where the brown cat was crunch
ing dried food from his bowl.

"We couldn't leave him!" Christie was startled.
"Even if we shut him in here, someone
might open the door and—"

"Then be sure he has his leash on, and you'll
be responsible for him,
Christie."

"Yes, Father," she answered through a
mouthful of cereal.

Before they were through breakfast the Wild-
horse family had arrived. Lucas
and Father
loaded the
cans of water and the baskets into
the
back of the station wagon, along with some
bundles
the Navajos had brought. Baron jumped
into
his usual place behind. The children took
the middle seats while Lucas and Father were in front. They waved goodbye
to Mother and
Mrs.
Wildhorse
and were on their way.

For a while they followed the town road.
Then, at Lucas's direction, Father
swung off
to the
north. Now and then there were faint traces to be seen on the ground as if this
too
had once been a
road. But the riding was even
more bumpy
than on the town road and Father
drove very slowly.

"The new highway cuts northwest within
about two miles," Lucas was
saying. "To open
a
trail in from that direction would be the best.
You might get some backing from
Gilesburg
for
that. After all, the town wants all the tourist
trade it can get.
Darringer
would make a good
added attraction to people going to and from
the park. Does your partner intend
trying any
restoration?"

"Depends on what interest he can raise in
such a project. A lot of
Hollywood
money is going into such schemes
now—Disney paved
the
way. There certainly isn't much road left
here—that's sure. Can we make it by car?"

"You
could last year. Movie outfit came here
looking
for an authentic background. They
were
here for about a week, then there was a
flash flood and they cleared out. My cousin
Brad set up their camps for them. Now—wait
a minute!" Lucas pushed forward in the seat
to survey the ground ahead. "Yes—see that
rise over there? You turn
here,
use that for a
guide point. Now—see those ruts—" He pointed
to depressions in the ground. "
Ore
wagons
made those. In spite of all the
time gone by
since
then, those have been left to mark the
road."

"When did the last digging close down?"

"Let's see. The
Letty
Bell
was working
about
quarter time back in
nineteen twenty
.
She ran out a couple of years later. There were
still some small pockets where men
held on
maybe two,
three years longer. The rich ore
was gone and what was left cost too much to
extract. I don't know when the
last of the small operators closed.
Been no one there since I
can
remember.
Some of the prospectors use the
town for a camp now and then
while they poke
around
the hills, but no one else goes there."

"When did the first mine open?"

"Slim Gordon made the big strike there in
eighteen seventy. He'd been
nosing around before the Civil War and staked out then what he
thought was a promising claim to
come back to later. Even put up his monuments—"