Read Ebook: Left on the Prairie by West Noel Pearce A Illustrator

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Ebook has 478 lines and 183256 words, and 10 pages

'I promise,' said Jack gravely.

'An' ye'll sing the hymns I've taught ye sometimes, won't ye, laddie?' asked his mother softly.

'I won't forget,' returned Jack, as he kissed her wet cheek; and then she went away with a feeling of comfort in her heavy heart.

Next morning his parents started, and Jack, after the terrible good-byes had been said, stood watching the retreating waggon until it became like a speck in the distance. At last it vanished altogether, and then the boy's loss seemed to overwhelm him. In a frenzy of grief he rushed off to the woodshed, and wept as if his heart would break.

But Aunt Sue guessed the tumult of sorrow that was going on in the young heart, and she soon came to find him and offer comfort. She was so like his dear mother, with her sweet voice and gentle manner, that she soothed him in his trouble; and when she proposed he should help her to get the house brushed out and tidied up, he gladly threw himself into the work.

He was helping his aunt to lay the things on the table when his uncle came in. He had not seen the boy before, and even he felt a bit sorry for the poor lad, so he said not ungraciously, 'That's right, Sue, make him useful. There's nothin' so good fur sick hearts as work.'

Poor Jack flushed at this speech, as it touched him on a sore point; but he saw his uncle did not intend to hurt his feelings by the words, and he tried to swallow the lump that would rise in his throat. The three boys came in for supper, and Hal and Larry looked curiously to see how Jack was taking his trouble; but he was determined they should see no sign of tears from him, and they did not suspect that the little heart was nearly bursting.

Steve was a most good-natured lad, rough to look at, but with a large slice of his mother's kind heart, and he now looked quietly after Jack, seeing that he had a good supper. He was very fond of his small cousin, who in return was devoted to him, and the big boy felt sorry when he noticed the effort Jack was making to keep up a brave face before Hal and Larry.

Very soon Aunt Sue suggested he should go to bed, which he was glad to do, and once there, he was so tired out with his grief he fell fast asleep.

JACK IN TROUBLE.

Over a year had passed away since Jack's parents had left Longview for the mountains, and the boy was just nine and a half; but he was no longer the same happy little fellow as when we first knew him. Great changes for the worse had taken place, and misfortunes had come thick and fast upon him.

He lost his good Aunt Sue, for she died of heart disease ten months after his parents' departure. How poor Jack missed her! His uncle very soon afterward married again, and his new wife was a loud-voiced, harsh woman, who treated Jack most unkindly.

Steve, too, his great friend, had gone away, as he had long threatened, to be a cowboy, for he found the life at home unbearable without his mother. Hal and Larry, who had not improved as they grew older, took good care to keep away from the house, except for meals; and thus Jack, as the youngest, had to bear the brunt of everything. He no longer went to school, for his uncle's wife wanted him to wash floors, carry water, and go endless errands for her. Every morning and evening he had to look for Roanie, the cow, who was given to wandering off on the prairie for long distances, searching for better pasture. When he had driven her home he had to milk her, and if he chanced to be late getting her in he was severely scolded, and oftentimes deprived of his supper.

It was a hard life for the little lad, and many a night he sobbed himself to sleep as he thought sadly of the happy days before his parents left him.

It was dreadful to think about, but there was no getting over the facts of the case, and Jack knew right well that it was long past the time they had said he should be away from them. Only one year! He remembered it as if it were but yesterday, but not even a message had come for him. He could not understand it, and his heart felt sad and sore as he often crept away to escape his uncle's drunken wrath or the wife's cruel blows.

One evening he could not find Roanie for nearly two hours, and when he got home, tired and hungry, he found Mrs. Byrne in a bad temper. She gave him a little dry bread for supper, and, anxious to get away from her tongue, Jack stole off across the prairie for some way, where, lying on the short, burnt-up grass, he gave vent to his misery, and burying his head in his hands, had a good cry.

Suddenly he heard the sound of horse's hoofs approaching him, and a great jingling of spurs, as someone dashed up close to him and stopped abruptly. Jack looked up, and was surprised to see his cousin Steve, looking very smart and happy.

'Hello, young un!' he cried, jumping off his horse. 'I thought it was you, so I turned off the prairie road to see. What's the trouble? You'll drown everyone in Longview if you cry so hard.'

Jack sat up and wiped his streaming eyes with his sleeve. 'Oh, Steve!' he exclaimed, 'I'm so unhappy. I'm glad you've come, for they're so unkind to me, and I'm beginning to doubt as Father and Mother have forgot me. They've never sent for me.'

'Don't fret, Jack,' said Steve; 'they haven't forgot you, never fear. D'you know,' he went on slowly, 'I've found out as they sent for you long ago, an' he'll not let you go.' Steve nodded towards his home.

'Not he!' returned Steve. 'You're better than a servant to that woman, for she'd never get anyone to work as hard as you, an' she ain't a-goin' to let you leave. I heard a tale from Long Jim Taylor, as worked in the mine with Father, an' it's that as brought me home now. Father was drunk one day, an' let out about a mean trick as he'd played on your folks, an' you, too, for the matter o' that; an' though he denied it afterwards, I'm sure it's true, an' I'll talk my mind to him afore I'm done.'

Steve looked so furious, Jack felt almost frightened as he asked timidly, 'What was it, Steve? Tell me what he has done.'

Jack's eyes had grown rounder and larger with horrified surprise as he listened to Steve's story.

'How wicked of him!' he cried. 'But, Steve, I wonder he wasn't afraid o' their hearin' about it.'

'Aye, and so do I,' answered his cousin. 'I believe, however, he has been meanin' to move to some other part o' the country an' take you. Your folks are settled a long way off, an', thinkin' as you're dead, they'll probably never come back here again, so he'd be pretty safe.'

'What shall I do, Steve?' asked Jack piteously. 'I'll ask Uncle Mat about it this very night.'

'Don't make him angry,' returned the cowboy kindly; 'but tell him you have heard what he's done, an' you are bound to go to your folks somehow. I'll tell him what I think when I meet him in the street. I ain't a-goin' near that house with that woman there, so if you want to see me, come here to-morrow evening.'

'I will, Steve. Good-night.' And Jack darted away.

Jack felt very brave and determined when he left his cousin, but his courage failed a little as he approached the house. The door was open, and as he drew near he heard his uncle and his wife talking loudly, and caught his own name.

'I'm not such a fool as to let Jack go back to them,' he heard his uncle say, 'in spite o' what Jim Taylor wrote sayin' he'd told Steve, an' the lad was so angry he was comin' over to make things right for Jack. The boy's worth fifty cents a day to us, an'll make more afore long; so the sooner we clear out o' here, an' make for a part o' the country where we ain't known the better. I guess we needn't let Steve into the secret o' our whereabouts, if we can get off afore he comes.'

Jack's pulses were beating fast as he listened to this speech. He shook with indignation, and at last, unable to stand it any longer, he rushed into the kitchen, exclaiming: 'Uncle Mat, I heard what you were sayin', an' I must go to my folks. I thought as they'd forgot me, an' now I know they haven't, but you've told 'em a lie.'

A look almost of fear crossed the man's face at first when Jack burst in, but it was quickly replaced by a hard and cruel smile.

'Listenin', were you?' he said angrily, 'Well, listeners hear no good o' themsel's, an' it's a mighty bad habit to give way to. Perhaps a touch o' the whip will make you forget what wasn't meant for you to hear.'

'Oh! don't beat me, please, Uncle Mat,' cried poor Jack.

But there was no mercy to be had this time, and when his punishment was over, Jack, quite exhausted, made his way to his miserable bed, which was in a shed adjoining the house. Through the thin wooden walls he could hear the two Byrnes talking and planning to leave Longview as soon as possible, and he felt sick with fright as he heard them arrange to take him too.

'Oh dear! oh dear!' murmured the boy sadly. 'What will become o' me? If Steve don't save me I don't know what they'll do to me. But I'm glad I didn't say I'd seen him.'

JACK'S RESOLUTION.

Jack could hardly get up the next morning, he was so stiff and bruised from the beating his uncle had given him, but he was not the kind of boy to moan and groan in bed. He dragged himself up and dressed, and after washing and dipping his head into cool water in the back yard, he felt better, and soon got to work, lighting the fire and getting the things ready for breakfast. He rather dreaded meeting his Uncle Mat, but although the man looked surly enough, he did not allude to the occurrence of the previous evening, and after breakfast, to Jack's relief, he left the house. The day seemed longer than usual, but Jack finished his work at last, and hastened away to the place where he and Steve had arranged to meet.

His cousin was already waiting there, lying on the ground, lazily watching his horse quietly grazing the herbage near. He hailed Jack heartily.

'Well! how did you get on last night?'

'Very badly, Steve,' returned the boy, and related how he had been treated. Great was Steve's indignation when he heard what had taken place and looked at Jack's bruised back.

'Poor little lad!' he said pityingly. 'He has been hard on you, I can see. He licked me once in a rage, an' I wouldn't stay a day longer in his house, for I hadn't done wrong. I saw him to-day, an' we had a terrible row over you. I gave him a piece o' my mind about the way he was keepin' you from your folks under false pretences.'

'Aye! but I was a big fellow over sixteen, an' you're but a little un, not much more than a baby yet,' returned Steve.

'But I shouldn't be afraid to try,' declared Jack stoutly. 'I might get lifts from folks goin' along the road.'

'You're right there,' exclaimed Steve. 'It isn't such a bad idea after all. You're a plucky boy, for I never thought as you had the grit to make a bolt on it. If you're sure you aren't frightened to go so far alone, I do believe as I might be able to help you a bit on your way.'

'Could you, Steve?' cried Jack. 'Oh! do tell me how.'

'Well! There's a waggon here now belongin' to some miners who are on their way to the "Rockies" to prospect. I know one o' them, an' it would be a grand scheme if he would let you go along with him. Shall I ask him?'

'Please do,' said Jack. 'I'm ready to start any minute they want to go, an' I promise I won't give 'em any trouble. Oh, Steve, I must get away from here!'

'All right! I'll try an' fix it for you,' returned Steve. 'Wouldn't it be a surprise for your folks if they saw you walk in one fine day? I don't quite know where they live, except that they're somewhere on the Cochetopa Creek, but I reckon if you do get that far as you'll find 'em. I'll see the miner to-morrow. He's campin' t'other side o' the village. I guess he won't object to takin' you, as I'll tell him you're a handy little chap. I believe I'd have gone an' seen you safe there myself, but I'm goin' to look after cattle down on the Huerfano.'

'You are good to me, Steve!' cried Jack, throwing his arms round the cowboy's neck and hugging him. 'I thought you'd save me somehow, an' I do love you so.'

'There! That'll do, young un,' said Steve good-naturedly. 'Go home an' keep quiet, for if that woman gets wind o' our plans, it'll be all up, for she ain't goin' to give up a slavey like you. But, look here! How shall I let you know if he'll take you?' as Jack was turning to go.

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