A Bright Tomorrow

by Gilbert, Morris

  Allie was suddenly ashamed of her suspicions. She knew Owen must have seen the stubborn, wary expression on her face and realized that he’d seen a lot of that side of her. He’s so big and strong I’ve been afraid of him, she thought, trying to think of a way to say what she felt. I’ve been expecting him to bother me all this time, like the others…but he’s never even once tried to touch me. Joey had told her she was an old grouch around Owen, adding that she needed a thrashing after all the big man had done for her. Now she suddenly realized her brother was right.

  “I…Joey and I, that is—” She floundered helplessly, aware of Owen’s warm blue eyes on her, and finally met his gaze and blurted out, “I’m sorry for the way I’ve acted for the last three weeks. I’ve been an ungrateful pest!”

  Owen was surprised, but rallied quickly. “Oh, you haven’t been that bad, Allie.”

  “Yes, I have, too! I’ve treated you like all the rest who try to—” Allie flushed, unable to finish, then she took a deep breath that swelled the front of her thin shirt. “I guess I’ve lived with my guard up for so long it’s just hard for me to let myself be friends with any man.”

  “I know. And I admire you for it, Allie, the way you’ve kept yourself straight and taken care of Joey. Why, not many—”

  “What’s the conference about?” Cecily had emerged from the sleeping car and, seeing the pair, came to stand over them. She was wearing a bright red dress, a wide-brimmed white hat, and a pair of extremely high-heeled red shoes.

  Allie got up at once, her eyes cautious, and Owen joined her. “I just talked the colonel into putting Allie and Joey on the payroll. Reminded him how Lincoln had freed the slaves.”

  “Yeah? That old skinflint actually came across?” Cecily snorted. She stared coolly at Allie. “Watch out for that old goat, kid. He don’t throw money around for nothing.”

  Owen saw that Allie was not going to answer, so he spoke up. “You going to town, Cecily? Hey, Allie, let me give you an advance on the princely salary you’re going to be drawing. Get Joey, and the four of us can go buy the stores out.”

  Cecily stared at Owen. “I did enough baby-sitting before I left home. See you later.” She flounced away, headed for the center of town.

  Owen sighed. “Well, how about it, Allie?” Then he said idly, as if he’d just thought of it, “Hey, maybe we can get you a pretty dress or something.”

  Allie understood at once that he was trying to offer her a way to buy some new clothes without hurting her feelings. “Oh, I don’t need a dress, but I’d like to see the town.”

  “Come on then.” Owen nodded. “Let’s pull Joey out from under that merry-go-round and go see the sights!”

  Joey was more than willing, and the three of them walked to Main Street, where farmers had come in from the country with their vegetables. The wide street was crowded with wagons and a smattering of noisy automobiles.

  Owen advanced Joey enough money to buy himself a set of used wrenches—the beginning of a large set of tools. And although Allie protested at first, she was persuaded to buy a few personal things. Then Owen found a beautiful ivory comb and brush set and, over her protests, insisted on buying it for her.

  When he had paid for it and handed it to her, saying, “Pretty hair like yours deserves to be treated with care,” Allie’s cheeks turned pink, and she could only murmur, “Thank you, Owen!”

  They had ice cream at the drugstore, then as they were on their way out of town, Joey spotted a sign and cried out, “Look! A nickelodeon! Can we watch it, Owen?”

  Owen agreed, but as they drew near, he saw that something was different. “Hey, this isn’t a nickelodeon!” he exclaimed. “This is that new kind of picture show—moving pictures!”

  Thomas Edison and George Eastman had invented a machine that produced motion pictures back in 1899, but they had to be viewed individually, the viewer turning a crank while looking though a porthole of sorts to see the short films. The nickelodeon craze had spread quickly, every city installing the machines in parlors, where patrons could watch the films—people sneezing, walking, swimming, or other physical activities—but there was no story involved. Edison himself foresaw no widespread use of the invention, but a man named Edwin Porter in 1903 had been struck by a brilliant idea: Why not tell a story—and show the picture on a screen where a roomful of people can see it?

  “The Great Train Robbery!” Joey read the sign with excitement. “See a cast of forty, starring George Barnes as the Wicked Train Robber!”

  Owen was amused at the boy’s eagerness, but paid the admission, and the three of them walked into a small room with a white sheet stretched across the wall. They took their seats, and soon the lights dimmed and the flickering forms began to enact the drama.

  It was a simple story, involving a train holdup, but nothing like it had ever been seen. When Barnes capped the action by aiming his gun directly into the camera and firing, several people scrambled to get out of the way. Joey yelled in alarm, “Look out!” And Allie grabbed Owen’s arm with a gasp. Then it was over and Allie quickly released her hold, embarrassed.

  “Looked real, didn’t it?” Owen grinned as they walked outside. “My sister Lylah thinks it’ll put real theaters out of business. She’s an actress and claims she’s going to get in on the ground floor of this new kind of thing.” He shrugged. “I don’t guess it’ll ever get very big, though. Not like a real show.”

  They made their way back in time for Allie to help with the evening meal. Owen was preoccupied with the show, and that night he took on a huge man—one with no skill, but he was so tough that it took all Owen had to put him away. In the process he got a cut over his left eye. “Let me put some plaster on that,” Allie offered when the match was over. She led him to the cook’s tent where the first aid kit was kept and said bossily, “Now, you sit down and let me wash that out.”

  Owen, accustomed to ignoring small injuries, grumbled, “It’s not worth fooling with.” But he allowed her to bathe the cut with a strong antiseptic. “Ow!” he yelped as the alcohol touched the wound. “That’s worse than the cut!”

  “Be still…you’re worse than Joey!”

  As Allie worked on the cut, her face was no more than a foot from Owen’s, and he saw that her skin was as smooth as anything he’d ever seen. She was intent on the job, and her lips were pursed delightfully. Going to be a fine-looking woman someday, Owen thought.

  “You’re as good at doctoring as my sister was,” he said when she had finished, patting her shoulder awkwardly. “Pretty nice, having a sister again to take care of me.”

  Allie was putting the first aid kit away, but when she turned to look at him, she had an odd expression on her face. Her full lips grew taut and she said distinctively, emphasizing every word, “I’M NOT YOUR SISTER!”

  She left the tent, her head high in the air, leaving Owen to stare after her. “What’s got her back up, I wonder?” he muttered.

  In the small cubicle she shared with Julie, one of the dancers, Allie got ready for bed, then sat down in front of the mirror fastened to the wall. Picking up the velvet-covered box Owen had bought, she took out the brush and comb, admiring the delicacy of the workmanship. Pulling out the pins, she let her hair fall free and began to comb it.

  I’ll use some of the rainwater we saved and wash it tomorrow, she thought. There was a sensuous pleasure in pulling the brush though her thick hair, and she studied her reflection as she worked. She considered the image with something like embarrassment, for she had not been interested in her appearance for a long time.

  What she saw was a young woman with honey-colored hair cascading down her back, the bluest possible eyes, and a firmly rounded bosom. A thought came to her—secretly and without warning—and it moved her so greatly she impulsively lifted one hand to touch her burning cheek. She shook her head, half angry with herself for the thought, and put the comb and brush set away.

  She turned out the lamp and lay there in the stifling cubicle, thinking of the afternoo
n and how much Joey had enjoyed it. That pleased her, and she smiled. Owen will help him, she thought, and found a great deal of security in the knowledge that all the burden for her brother was no longer resting on her shoulders. Her last thoughts were of Owen and the musky scent of him as she’d worked on the cut above his eye. But the memory of how it had affected her was unsettling, and she put it out of her mind and drifted off to sleep.

  The summer seemed to fly by for Allie. She had never been so content—at least not since her childhood days. The show moved across the northern states, and as October brought the hint of winter in its brisk winds, Colonel Fletcher turned his eyes toward the warmer climates. By November, they were tracing their way along the Gulf Coast of Texas, moving eastward until they arrived at Pensacola, Florida, a week before Christmas.

  Neither Allie nor Joey had ever seen the ocean, and it was Owen who took them to the beach. A few brave swimmers were daring the white-capped waves, and Owen asked, “Want to try it?”

  “No!” Allie replied firmly. Eyeing the bathers, she said in a prim tone, “I wouldn’t be seen in public dressed like that…or undressed, you might as well say!”

  Owen stared at the figures on the beach, noting that the costumes covered the women almost as thoroughly as a dress. “Looks to me like those girls are wearing too many clothes, Allie.” He grinned as she sniffed, adding, “They’ve got on more than Cecily and the other girls wear when they’re dancing.” This didn’t make Allie any more sympathetic, and he decided that her tastes were just too refined for a brute like himself.

  A week before Christmas, Colonel Fletcher called the troupe together. “I’ve decided to cancel our bookings for the next two weeks. We’ve been at it too long without a break. I’m giving you all a little Christmas bonus, so Merry Christmas…and be back on January 6!”

  Owen had caught a glimpse of Allie’s face as the Colonel was making his announcement and had seen the dismay that washed over it. Quickly he went to her as she and Joey were turning to leave. “Hey, this is great! Now we can all have Christmas together at my home place, just like I told you.”

  Allie and Joey stared at him blankly, and Owen snapped his fingers in a gesture of annoyance, “Well, I’ll be! I forgot to tell you, didn’t I?”

  “Tell us what, Owen?” Joey asked.

  “Why, I’ve been making plans for you two to go home with me…to Arkansas,” Owen lied with a straight face. “Didn’t want to say too much, ’cause I wasn’t sure the colonel was going to let us off. But I did mention it, didn’t I?” he asked anxiously.

  “No, you didn’t,” Allie said evenly. “It’s nice of you, but we wouldn’t want to impose on your family.”

  “Why, they’re expecting you both!” Owen had been a man to deal strictly in truth, but was fast discovering that he had a rare and rudimentary talent for lying and pure deception. He spoke quickly, spinning his web of deceit even tighter. “Well, if you don’t want to go, I guess I can’t make you. But my folks will sure be disappointed! Come on, now, we can have a great time! Joey, you ever shot a deer?”

  “No—”

  “I guarantee you a six-point buck!”

  Owen couldn’t have been more accurate with his aim, for all he had to do was sit back, and by the end of the day, the pair had come to look him up. “Joey is driving me crazy,” Allie said. “I can’t let him go alone. So…if you really want us to come…I guess we can.”

  “Great!” Owen said. “We’ll get a train out of here tomorrow.” He rushed off, sent a wire to Logan, which cost a great deal of money because he had to explain his lies, and wound up with another one. “Tell them you’ve been expecting them. Tell the older kids and Pa to give them a big welcome.”

  They caught a passenger train out of Pensacola the next morning, and as it pulled out of the station, Owen grinned and draped his arm around Joey’s shoulder. “Better riding inside than on the rails, isn’t it, Joey?”

  “Yeah, it sure is!”

  It was a difficult trip, but they were travel-hardened by now. They crossed the Mississippi delta, the endless cotton fields bearing nothing but dried sticks, then turned west across Arkansas. Stopping in Little Rock, they changed trains and, late on a Friday night, pulled into Fort Smith.

  “Too late to go to the place tonight,” Owen said. ‘We’ll get a room and try to catch a ride to Mountain View tomorrow morning.”

  The hotel clerk at the Arkansas Hotel had plenty of rooms, but he hesitated, not knowing what arrangements the trio might want. His was a delicate and sensitive task, and finally he gave up and blurted out his question. “One room, or two…or three?”

  “One will do us, I guess,” Owen said. He signed the register, and the three of them walked upstairs to room 214. He opened the door and stepped back. It was a nice enough room, much better than their quarters in the train—a double bed, a washstand, a walnut chest.

  Owen threw his suitcase on the floor, then sat down and tested the bed. “I’ve slept on worse.”

  Allie was nervous, not liking the arrangements. She was ashamed to complain, though, and was tremendously relieved when Owen glanced at her and said, “Tell you what, Allie, you and Joey take the bed. I’ll go liberate a cot and some blankets. You two can wash up and hit the sack. I guess you’re pretty tired of sitting on those hard benches.”

  When Owen left, Joey undressed and fell into the bed, going to sleep at once. Allie quickly undressed and put on a flannel nightgown, one she’d borrowed from the cook’s wife. It was too large for her, but warm, and she sat down to brush her hair. She had almost finished when she heard the key in the door. She made a dive for the overcoat Joey had gotten from one of the hands and managed to get into it just as Owen came through the door with a roll of blankets.

  “Not in bed yet?” he asked in surprise. “You’re not as tired as I am, then.”

  “I–I wanted to brush my hair,” Allie stammered. “It hasn’t been brushed in two days.”

  “Get busy then, Allie.” Owen nodded. He began to make a pallet on the floor, and when it suited him, he sat down and pulled off his shoes. He was tired, but paused to watch Allie comb out her long hair. The strands had a golden sheen in the yellow glow of the lamp, and he admired how it lifted like fine silk as the comb went through it. There was something graceful about Allie’s actions, as she drew the comb again and again through her hair.

  He grew sleepy and lay down, saying huskily, “Knew you’d find a use for that comb and brush. Good night, Allie.”

  She hurriedly put up her hair, then rose to turn down the light. Seeing that Owen was sound asleep, his deep chest rising and falling, she allowed herself a moment to study his face. At rest, his features were relaxed, and he looked very young, she thought. The blanket had fallen off, and she carefully lifted it and placed it across his chest. At her touch, his eyes opened slightly, and he muttered, “Thanks, sister.”

  Allie looked down at him and her lips compressed into a thin line. “I’m not your sister!” she muttered, then turned the lamp out and fell into bed, asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.

  The visit was a resounding success, better than Owen had hoped.

  Joey got his deer, a fine buck, and Owen knew he would never forget the sight of the boy kneeling beside the animal.

  He was about to speak of it to Allie late one afternoon. The snow had fallen, and she was delighted with it, insisting on accompanying him as he walked to check a small trap line Logan ran. They found nothing in the traps, which pleased Allie.

  “I hate to think of those poor animals caught in those awful things!” she said as they walked back through the woods.

  Suddenly Owen reached out and grabbed her arm. She looked up in surprise, then glanced in the direction he was staring. Her heart almost stopped, for not thirty feet away, a mountain lion had dropped from the limb of a tree. He was an elegant animal—clipped ears, green eyes, a beautifully shaped head. Struck dumb at the sight, Allie could not move, except to lean against Owen weakly.
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br />   The great cat stared back at them with all the arrogance of a Nero, then turned and padded away silently.

  “Beautiful!” Owen breathed, then glanced down at her. “Didn’t scare you, did it?”

  “Y–yes!” Allie gasped. “I’ve never seen a lion…not even in a zoo.”

  Seeing that she was trembling, Owen was instantly attentive. “Let’s sit down on that log.” He didn’t mention the lion, but told her about Joey getting the deer until she grew calmer. “You know, I don’t have one of those cameras that make pictures. But I’ve got something better, Allie. When I see something I like, I study it and try to remember it. Then I sort of put it in a secret room in my head, and when bad things happen, I go to that little room, and I look at my pictures—all the nice things that have happened. And now I know if I live to be an old man, living in a shack without a soul to care for me, I’ll go to my room of pictures and see Joey beside that deer, his eyes like stars.”

  Allie gazed at him and whispered, “That’s really nice, Owen.” She got to her feet, and he rose with her. Then, jamming her hands in the pockets of the coat she’d borrowed from Logan, she cocked her head. “But you are a terrible liar, Owen Stuart.” She smiled at the shock registering in his features. “You never wrote your people to ask if Joey and I could come, did you?”

  “Why…sure I did—” Owen said weakly. Then he saw her shaking her head and knew it was no use. “Well, I meant to!” he muttered. “Who told you?”

  “Your stepmother.”

  Owen’s face clouded and bitter words sprang to his lips, but he bit them back, saying only, “I’m sorry, Allie. She’s not a…hospitable woman. My real ma would have loved you.” He kicked at the snow, then looked at her. “Are you mad? About my lying?”

  “No. Everyone has been so nice…well, almost everyone…your father, your brothers and sisters. I’m glad we came.”

  Relieved, Owen reached out to draw her close in a hard embrace. He smiled down at her. “I just decided to put another picture in my room, Allie—one of you when you were watching that lion. Your lips were open and your eyes were bigger than I’ve ever seen them.” He tightened his grip, adding, “That’ll make a great picture for my little art gallery, Sis.”