By the Way of the Silverthorns

by Grace Livingston Hill

  “Who wants me?” said the boy with almost the sound of an incipient sob in his fierce young voice.

  A gentle look came into Luther’s eyes, and a tenderness into his voice.

  “Why, it’s your mother wants you, son!”

  A hard unbelieving look came into the lad’s eyes.

  “My mother!” said the boy in a hard tone. “She never wanted me before! You’re kidding me, mister. What are ya doin’ it for?”

  “No,” said Luther, “I’m not kidding you. Your mother wants you. She’s sick and is crying for you all the time!”

  “How could you find out a think like that? Who are you mister, anyway?” There was a sneer on his young face.

  “Oh,” said Luther, “you sister Minnie wrote some friends of mine about it. Lincoln Silverthorn. Did you ever hear about the Silverthorns, Lincoln and his sister McRae? They were friends of some cousin of yours, Sydney Hollis, who got married a few weeks ago. Do you know them?”

  The boy listened in amazement.

  “Sure! I know them. But they never had anything to do with me! They wouldn’t know about us.”

  “Yes,” said Luther. “The Silverthorns know about you. Your sister wrote to the Silverthorns to see if they knew anything about where you were, because your mother was very sick. She said the doctor said she couldn’t live long. She’s got some disease that goes very fast, and the doctor said if they couldn’t stop her crying she’d go even faster, and the doctor said they should get in touch with you. She wants you to come back before she dies.”

  The boy was watching Luther with large-eyed unbelief still.

  “If all that was true, why’n’t my father come and get me? My father always looked after us kids.”

  “Your father sailed for China just after you left home, I understand. He doesn’t know about your mother either. He doesn’t know you are not at home.”

  And now the boy’s eyes were half believing.

  “I know!” he said thoughtfully. “I didn’t go till after he’d left home. But I didn’t know he had gone off for a long time. I didn’t know where he went. He talked as if he might come back the next week. I just snuck off in the night. But my sister was gone too. She said she had ta go up ta that wedding. She said Sydney would want her.”

  Luther looked at him thoughtfully.

  “Yes, she did come up to the wedding. I saw her myself there in the church, though I didn’t speak to her. But she went right back home the next day.”

  The boy didn’t believe that. He shook his head decisively.

  “No, she never would. She told mom she never was coming back. She said she was sick of that old town, and wanted to go back where we came from. I don’t believe she came back.”

  “Yes, she did. I saw the letter myself that she had written to the Silverthorns.”

  “But I don’t believe Min ever wrote them,” said the boy scornfully. “She thought they were a stuck-up lot.”

  “Well, when you were missing and she didn’t know how to get hold of you and couldn’t leave your mother and the children while your mother was so sick, she wrote to them to help her. She must have trusted them, even if she didn’t like them. She had to have somebody find you because your mother cries all the time after you. Certainly son, your mother must love you.”

  The boy was still a long time.

  “Mebbe she does,” he said reluctantly. “She never would let me do anything I wanted.”

  “Well, perhaps they weren’t the right things to do. What was it you wanted to do?”

  “Oh, everything. She wouldn’t let me come back up here ta our old town where I had my friends. I was captain of the baseball team in my school, and I had a lotta friends, and she said I hadta stay there with them and I hated it.”

  “Well, of course that was hard lines, son, to have to give up your school and your team, and your friends, and the things you liked best, but didn’t you ever realize it was the right thing to do?”

  “Right! What’s right?” said the young rebel. “Who gave yer parents a right ta boss ya?”

  “Well, I guess God did that. But, son, that’s a big subject and it’s late and you’re tired, perhaps we better not go into that tonight. You’ve got a lot of things to consider now. You don’t want your mother to die crying for you, do you?”

  Luther was sitting now beside the boy, his big kindly arm around the slender shoulders.

  The boy was looking down, picking at the torn sleeve of his old sweater, suddenly sniffing. All at once he ducked his head around and hid his face on his elbow slung over the chair back. Big silent sobs racked the thin young body.

  Luther’s big hand went tenderly up to the boy’s head, smoothing back the rough hair, comfortably nestling the sad young brow in his gentle hand.

  “What’s the matter of my mother?” he asked, suddenly lifting his head, his eyes fierce even through the tears that streamed down the dirty face.

  “They didn’t tell me,” said Luther. “I got the impression it was something like ulcers of the stomach, or maybe cancer, or diabetes. Something that was pretty hopeless, and it was making her worse to cry so much. It was making her suffer a lot more pain than she needed to have.”

  The think frame of the boy was racked again with silent sobs. It went on for some minutes, Luther’s hands still comfortingly on the boy’s shoulder, sometimes on his head.

  “You know, son,” he said at last, “you place is down with them now while this trouble is going on. You’re sort of the man of the house, with your father so far away they can’t reach him. I gathered from what I’ve heard that they don’t know how to reach him yet.”

  “That’s the way he does!” broke forth the errant son angrily. “He never lets ’em know where he is, not for months, sometimes a year or two.”

  “That’s all the more reason they need you, son. They need a man of the house.”

  “Not with that half-sister of mine there!” burst forth the boy furiously. “She just hates me!”

  “No, I don’t think she does now. She wants you back. She needs you. I think you’ll find she’ll welcome you!”

  There was a long silence except for the sniffling of the lad trying to suppress those heart-racking sobs.

  “What didya mean telling me you would help me get a job then, if you were goin’ ta work this off on me?” he said lifting desperate eyes toward Luther. The young man’s heart went out to him with yearning.

  “Why I meant all that, kid. I’ll do my best when this is all over and things straighten out, and you can come back honorably and get to work. But I thought you’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t do the right thing now, would you?”

  “I dunno,” said the boy in smothered tones, with his bowed head on his arm again.

  When he raised his head his face was full of perplexity.

  “How’m I gonta go back there? I haven’t got a cent of money. I’m broke, I tell ya! And how’m I gonta go back in these cloes? I’m not fit ta be seen. My mother and sister would give me heck if I went back there and shamed them. I can’t go till after I get a job and earn a little money and get some decent cloes.”

  “Well, now, son, that’s all right. We’ll find a way to fix that up for you. You know life and death won’t wait on things like that, kid. Those aren’t so important as they seem. The thing is for you to get to see your mother now while she wants you and needs you!”

  The tears came again and flowed freely.

  “I hadn’t oughtta have gone away that way, I know,” he owned at last. “But now I gotta take what’s comin’ ta me. I can’t let you do any more for me. You fed me, and you’ve been good ta me. An’ you’re the first person that’s spoken kind to me since I can remember. If you hadn’t taken me ta supper with ya I think I’d ‘a’ died tanight and ben outta all this. It would of ben a lot less trouble fer everybody too. I was about ta starve. I hadn’t had a bit tat eat except half a rotten apple since day before yesterday, an’ I found that in the gutter an’ washed if off at th
e fire plug. You ben good ta me, but I mustn’t let ya bother any more for me. If ya’ll just give me a reference so I can work a week I’ll take the money and go back as soon as I get enough.”

  “Say, look here, son. No more talk like this! I’m looking after you now, and I say you need to go to bed. You’ll get a nice hot bath and then you’ll climb into a pair of my big clean pajamas and have a real old sleep, and then we’ll see tomorrow morning just how we can make things come out. Here’s some towels and a wash rag. Get your togs off and get to work. I’ve got to make some phone calls while you’re scrubbing.”

  Luther pulled open a closet door, and handed out a big soft towels, a cake of new soap, a bottle of shampoo.

  “There! Get to work, kid. You’ll feel a lot better when you get done.”

  Luther called up Link as soon as the water was running strong enough to cover his voice on the telephone.

  “Well, I’ve found the boy, Link!” he said. “What’s the situation now? I’m thinking of taking him back tomorrow. He seems to be at the place where he’s willing to start.”

  “Good work, Lute! The mother isn’t long for this world. My sister had a letter from the girl today. The mother still keeps crying for the boy. I guess the sooner he gets there the better. Anything I can do to help, Lute?”

  “No, thanks, Link. I’ll manage it myself. If I need any help I’ll call on you. I might ask you to go down to the mission pretty often while I’m away and look after some of my special cases.”

  “Sure, Lute, but—you don’t mean you’re going yourself! Surely the fellow is old enough to look out for himself!”

  “Well, yes, I guess he could, but I think this is the better way. I can get acquainted with him. We might drive. I’ll see how the trains are. It seems to be an out-of-the-way town. Might be good to have my care there. I’ll see.”

  “But say, that’s great of you, Lutie, the way you feel about the sister.”

  “But I don’t any more. I guess everybody is interesting when you think about it. This is something I want to do. I think I should. So long, Link. I’ll be keeping in touch with you!”

  Luther made several other phone calls, arranged a few matters of business with the man who looked after his affairs, and wrote a couple of letters. Then he heard the light click off in the bathroom, and Tim came out grinning and shamefaced, looking fairly lost in Luther’s big garments.

  “Well, how do you feel, fella?” he asked grinning back at the boy genially.

  “Feel like a four-year-old,” said Tim shyly.

  “Fine! I thought you would. Now, fold yourself into the bed and sleep as hard as you can. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”

  Luther had opened up the wall bed which was always ready for any chance guest of his, and the boy crept in gratefully and was asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow, his little pitiful bundle of tattered garments folded neatly in a heap on the chair beside him.

  Luther finished his last letter by a shaded light and then came over and looked down at the boy. Poor little fragment of humanity, unloved, uncared for, save by a hysterical mother who had neglected him all her life till now! Luther’s heart went out to him again, and quietly he knelt down beside the boy and prayed for him, asking that he might be shown how to guide him aright.

  Chapter 16

  Luther was awake early, going quietly around the room gathering together such things as he would need to take with him on a journey, placing them in his suitcase, and arraying himself for the day. Then he made a few telephone calls, guardedly, to the shops in the building, and presently some packages arrived at the door.

  Luther opened the packages, and laid some of the articles out on the chair in place of the soiled belongings of the lad, which he wrapped in a neat bundle.

  Then he turned to the bed.

  “Hey, fella!” he said. “About time you woke up, isn’t it? This is another day.”

  Tim came awake with a start, rubbed his eyes, looked about him bewildered, and then concentrated on the man beside him. He blinked a moment and said:

  “Okay! I didn’t know where I was.”

  Luther grinned at him.

  “Sorry to waken you, lad, but it’s almost breakfast time and we’ve got a lot to do. First off there’s some things to try on and see if they fit. I had ’em sent up from the shop downstairs. What size do you wear, anyway?”

  The boy murmured that he didn’t know, and turned this attention to the pile of garments on the chair. Undergarments, socks, a brown flannel shirt, brown corduroy trousers, and a brown sweater.

  “O boy!” said Tim, and arose promptly. “Are these for me? I can pay you, you know, when I get that job, if you don’t mind waiting.”

  “That’s all right, kid. Don’t worry about that. Hop into those things and see if they fit.”

  Tim obeyed with alacrity, and was soon arrayed and smiling in front of the long mirror on the closet door.

  “They’re swell!” said Tim turning after a survey of himself.

  Luther came and inspected him.

  “Well, I judged your size pretty well at first shot, didn’t I? Those trousers are not so hot, but they’ll do for the time being anyway. I told the barber to come up and give you a haircut. He ought to be here any minute now. Is that all right with you?”

  “Swell!” said Tim shyly. “I sure do need one!”

  “Okay!” said Luther. “Now, young fella, put your foot down on this piece of paper and let’s see what we can do about a pair of shoes for you. One of yours isn’t very seaworthy, you know.”

  “I know,” said Tim in a mortified tone, as he set his foot down on the paper and watched Luther draw a firm line around it.

  A little later the barber arrived, and while Tim was getting his hair cut a young man came from the shoe store, and took away with him Tim’s old worn-our shoes and the drawing on paper. It wasn’t long before he was back again with three or four boxes of shoes for the boy to select from. Oh, Luther knew how to go about getting the things he wanted in a hurry. And when the barber was gone and Tim stood in awe before the mirror surveying himself, Luther brought forward the shining new shoes.

  “Oh, gee, mister!” said Tim. “You didn’t needta do that. I coulda made out with the old ones.”

  “Yes? Well, I didn’t think you could. It’s a bit dangerous to try to navigate with the sole off your shoe. But say, kid, suppose you quit saying ‘mister’ to me and call me Luther. That’s my name. I like it a lot better, don’t you, than ‘mister’?”

  “Sure! If you don’t mind!” said the boy with deep admiration in his eyes.

  “No, I don’t mind,” said Luther smiling. “We’re friends, aren’t’ we? Then why go around saying ‘mister’? Well, now that’s settled let’s get to work. Suppose we have our breakfast sent up here and then we can talk without interruption. What do you want? Orange juice, hot cereal with cream, hot cakes and sausage, hot rolls, milk and coffee? How’s that?”

  “Swell,” said Tim with shining eyes.

  Luther telephoned down the order, and then turned to his young guest.

  “You look fine, Timothy. Now, we’ve got to decide just how to make this journey.”

  Tim caught his breath and looked troubled.

  “Say mister—I mean Luther—!” and then he grinned sheepishly. “Suppose my mother happens to be better now, and doesn’t need me any more. Wouldn’t it be better for me to stay here and earn some money to pay for all these grand togs than to go out there now?”

  “No,” said Luther, “positively not! Besides she isn’t better. The Silverthorns just had a letter yesterday begging them to find you and send you home. The doctor said it was the only thing that could help her. And you’re the man of the house, you know. It’s up to you to take care of them. Aren’t there some younger ones you could look after while your sister is busy at the hospital with your mother?”

  “Sure!”

  “Well, Tim, I’ve been thinking. How would you like to telephone your
sister and tell her you’ve got her message and you’re coming just as soon as you can arrange it? Then she can tell your mother they’ve found you and you’re coming soon. That will ease things up a bit for them.”

  “Wouldn’t it be all right for me to wait till I got there? I don’t like ta talk ta my sister. She never had any use for me.”

  “Oh, that’s no way to do!” said Luther in a businesslike way. “You’re almost a man. Just talk up to her pleasantly the way a man would. You needn’t say much.”

  Tim looked dejected over the idea but yielded.

  “Okay!” he said in a low dismal voice.

  “Well, then let’s get it over with!” Luther got up and went to the phone, a person to person call, long distance, and Tim stood in awe and listened. All this was being done for him. He didn’t like it but he couldn’t help being a bit awed by it.

  Fortunately they got Erminie at once, and Luther signaled for the boy to come to the phone.

  Tim cleared his throat and tried to talk like a man.

  “Hello! This you, Min? This is Tim.”

  “Oh, Timmie! I’m so glad!” came back the answer, and strangely the sister seemed to be crying in her voice. It sprung the tears into Tim’s eyes, even while he tried to be a man.

  “Oh, Tim, where are you? Can’t you come back? Mother wants you terribly. She cries all the time for you.”

  “Yes, sure I’ll come!” assured Tim huskily. “I’ll come as soon as I can arrange it.” His voice sounded important, as if he were a man of a great many important affairs.

  “When will that be, Tim?” asked Erminie. “The doctor isn’t sure how long mother will last!”

  “Oh gee!” said the boy. “I didn’t know it was that bad! Sure I’ll get started right away, taday, mebbe. It’s a long way, ya know, Min. But I’ll get there. Tell mom I send my love. Gub-by!” he hung up the receiver and turned away, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

  “That’s all right, kid,” said Luther with a comforting arm thrown briefly about his shoulders. “Now, here comes our breakfast, and while we eat we’ll settle plans for starting. Tell me about train service out there. Is there through-service, or a lot of way trains and missing connections, and waiting and all that?”