Luke Baldwin's Vow

by Morley Callaghan

  So he would listen, or wander among the crowd, with Dan following him, or he would drift out to left field where the gang would sprawl in the grass. The collie never followed Luke ostentatiously. Anyone watching would hardly have believed that the dog belonged to Luke, who never turned and called to him. Nor would anyone have believed that the collie was intent on being with Luke. Yet if the boys got up to go, the dog, though apparently sleeping, would get up quietly and trail after them. Though Luke and Dan seemed to pay no attention to each other, each knew without looking where the other was; each was aware of what the other was doing.

  Dan seemed to know that Luke resented Elmer Highbottom. Luke had it figured out that if Elmer had treated him with more respect, the other boys would have willingly let him become truly one of them. If they were lying in the grass having an argument about whether bats were harmless and if Luke was insisting that he had read that bats wouldn’t even touch a woman’s hair, Elmer would jeer, “Aw, Luke doesn’t know anything about it. How could he know what goes on? He’s green. He only knows what he reads in a book. He’s just got a lot of sissy talk.”

  Sometimes Elmer would whisper with Eddie Shore, the swarthy and muscular son of the grocer, and they would go off by themselves, planning some night adventure on the main street of the town. As Luke and Dan walked along the road home with the stars coming out and the night breeze rustling through the leaves of the great elms along the road, he would ache with discontent and try to imagine that he was following the boys furtively into mysterious places where he had never been; he seemed to hear conversations and dark whispering he had never heard before.

  But on Saturday mornings it was really worthwhile to be with Elmer’s friends, for then they would go down to the old dock by the rusty grain elevator, and go out to the end of the pier where rotting beams stuck out of the water. There they would swim, the old collie swimming with them, and afterwards they would lie in the sun, talking and dreaming, and after they had dressed they would go along the pier to the place where the Missouri was tied up and sit there peering into the darkness of the hold.

  A seaman, in a torn black sweater whose face was leathery and whose hair was iron gray, was sitting on the pier smoking his pipe. He was taking it easy, enjoying the sun and the cool breeze from the water, and smiling to himself as he watched Elmer strutting around. A lot of men made a mistake about Elmer. The believed he was a high-spirited, a battler, a reckless red-haired kid with blazing blue eyes. And this seaman called to Elmer, “Hey kid, how old are you?”

  “Thirteen. Why?” Elmer asked.

  “Oh, nothing,” drawled the sailor. “It’s just that I remember when I was thirteen around here.”

  “Are you from around here, Mister?”

  “Believe it or not,” the sailor said, “I was a kid around here. It was a long time ago,” and now he seemed to belong to many other places, but he had been born in the town; a few weeks after his thirteenth birthday he had had a row with his father and one night he had sneaked out the window and come down to this dock and had stowed away on a grain boat.

  Both Luke and Elmer, sitting crosslegged now at the seaman’s feet, listened to him telling stories about his adventures. He had sailed on the high seas; he had gone down the St. Lawrence; twice on the Pacific his ship had gone down; he had spent a winter in Tahiti; once he had made a voyage to Bangkok. But of all the waters of the world, these fresh waters of the Great Lakes were the most like home.

  Maybe he was lying a little, but his voice was soft, his tone full of affection and his eyes happy, and so Luke believed him. And after a profound silence Luke said suddenly, “I could do that too. I could stow away some night. I could go down the St. Lawrence. I could sail to Siam.”

  “When are you going to make the break, son?” the sailor asked with a smile.

  “One of these nights. I’ll pick a night.”

  “You?” Elmer jeered in derision. “Listen to him, Mister. He’s never been on a ship. He doesn’t know one end of a ship from another. He’s just a punk around here.”

  “I was a punk once,” the sailor said in such a way that Luke felt grateful. “Maybe the lad’s got the stuff,” he went on, looking thoughtfully at Luke, who was blushing and scowling at Elmer for so brutally belittling him.

  “I guess I know what I’ve got,” he said belligerently to Elmer. Luke couldn’t figure out why he endured Elmer’s jeering insults. He would say to himself bitterly, “I despise him. I don’t take anything he says seriously, and neither does anybody else.” But if he turned against Elmer, he would be turning against the other boys too; he felt too insecure to be against them all. And gradually they had all adopted Elmer’s tone with him. Lacking confidence he had become hesitant and felt lucky to be allowed to go along with them.

  Even though he was a city kid he longed to be able to show them there was nothing he was afraid to do, if they would do it also. When they were crossing the freight yards they would all stand waving at the brakemen, all dreaming of being on the train which would carry them away to strange cities. Sometimes one of the boys would yell, “I’ll stump you to take a ride.” “Stumpers go first,” someone would yell, and the kid would rush at the slow-moving freight and grab at the ladder leading up to the car roof; one by one the kids would jump at these ladders, and Luke was never the last one. With his heart pounding and the smell of cinders in his nostrils and the earth shaking under his feet as he ran, he would hang on tight to the ladder and scream encouragement to Dan, who tore alongside barking hysterically. As the train began to pick up speed, they would jump off one by one.

  One day they were in Johnson’s lumberyard on the south side of the tracks, playing around the great pile of sawdust which was heaped at the back of a two-story brick building. A ladder hooked to the wall of the building ran up to the flat roof. “Come on, all up on the roof,” Elmer yelled, and they followed him up the ladder.

  Sitting on the edge of the roof they all looked down at the pile of sawdust that was about twenty feet below. The collie down there looked up at them expectantly.

  “I’ll stump you to jump down,” Elmer said, and without waiting for them to yell, “Stumpers go first” he jumped off the roof, rolled over in the pile of sawdust and got up shaking the golden dust out of his red hair and grinning triumphantly. “Who’s next?” he yelled.

  One by one the boys began to jump, and as each one fell Dan barked excitedly. But the second boy to jump had taken a little longer to make up his mind and the third boy hesitated even longer, the jump becoming longer and more frightening as he kept looking down; and Luke, who was the last one, had had too much time to think about it. Elmer had made the jump easily and nervelessly; he had given himself no time to think about it. Now Luke sitting there alone on the edge of the roof hesitated while the others grinned up at him.

  “Come on, Luke,” they yelled. “What’s the matter with you, Luke? What are you scared of?”

  “I’m coming. What’s the rush? Why are you trying to rush me?”

  “Don’t take all day. We’re going home.”

  “I’m taking my time. What’s the matter with taking my time?”

  He wanted to jump, he knew he was going to jump, only he couldn’t bring himself to do it at the moment. It wouldn’t hurt him to jump. It was really an easy jump, so he laughed and tried to keep on kidding with them; but he had tightened up and every time he got ready, a queasy feeling came at the base of his spine. Feeling ashamed, he sat there staring at the sawdust pile, wondering why he couldn’t force himself off the roof. All he needed, he kept telling himself, was a little more time.

  The collie looking up at him wagged his tail expectantly and suddenly gave three eager barks. Luke only frowned.

  “I think he’s yellow,” Elmer shouted. “He’s got glue on his pants. Sure, he’s yellow. Aren’t you yellow, Luke?” Then they all began to jeer, and Elmer shouted, “Sure, look at his old dog. The old dog knows Luke’s yellow. The old dog is trying to coax him down. The old do
g would like to do it for him.”

  The jeering excited Luke, and he was hating Elmer so much that he began to tremble; he wanted to close his eyes and jump but was ashamed to let them see that he was closing his eyes. That all this was happening bewildered him. And then the collie began to bark impatiently. “Okay, Dan,” Luke yelled, and he waved his arms carelessly as if he had been only kidding them. Then suddenly he pushed himself blindly off the roof and fell heavily on the sawdust and the dog leaped at him joyfully.

  “Well, there you are, loudmouth,” he said to Elmer as he got up, dusting his clothes.

  “Who’s a loudmouth?”

  “You’ve got the biggest loudest mouth in this town, Elmer,” Luke said quietly. “You’re a blowhard. A great big loudmouthed blowhard.”

  “Listen, punk, you want something?”

  “You don’t worry me, loudmouth.”

  “You want I should smack you, you stinker?”

  “Go ahead and smack me, Elmer. I’ll show you who’s a stinker.”

  “You heard that, guys? He wants I should smack him. You heard him,” Elmer cried.

  “Okay, Elmer, smack him,” Eddie Shore said.

  “Wait a minute,” Elmer said. Looking around on the ground he picked up a chip of wood and balanced it on his shoulder. “Come on, knock it off, you stinker. Come on.”

  “Knock it off yourself, loudmouth,” Luke said.

  “You’re too yellow to knock it off.”

  “Wait a minute,” Eddie said, with a judicial air. Taking the chip from Elmer’s shoulder he put it on Luke’s shoulder. “Maybe you should knock it off, Elmer,” he said profoundly.

  With a scowl Elmer studied the stick which was balanced so delicately on Luke’s shoulder, and seemed to be weighing the legal aspects of the assault, or to be wondering if Luke would really hit him if the chip was knocked from his shoulder. For a moment Elmer was in the position Luke had been in when he had been hesitating on the roof, and delaying doing a thing he knew he could do. Suddenly, with a derisive snarl, he swept the chip from Luke’s shoulder. “Come on,” he yelled.

  Then they were circling around each other and now Luke was happy. It was a crazy kind of happiness; it seemed as if Elmer had been pounding him for a long time and now at last he could openly smack Elmer. As they feinted at each other, Dan began to growl. Eddie grabbed him by the collar and held him.

  Impressed by the wild glare that was in Luke’s eyes, Elmer feinted cautiously and then suddenly he ducked and charged, swinging his right, and Luke blindly stuck out his left hand like a rod. Elmer walked right into it. The fist got him on the nose, which spurted blood. Stooping, he put his hand delicately to his nose, looked astonished as he saw the blood on his fingers, and then screaming like an old woman he came clawing at Luke and got his arms around him and they rolled in the sawdust. He was heavier and stronger than Luke and had got on top of him.

  “Let him up. Let him up and go on fighting,” the others yelled. But Elmer, frantic now, his freckled white face with the mouth gaping open and a trickle of blood from his nose running into the corner of his mouth, had grabbed Luke by the hair and kept banging Luke’s head on the ground and digging his knees into his ribs while his friends tried to pull him off. And Luke was stunned and bewildered by Elmer’s crazy sobbing.

  The collie had growled; he lay back growling, then suddenly he jerked his head free and leaped at Elmer. He didn’t look like a wild dog, but like a dog being workmanlike. He slashed at Elmer’s leg; only at the cloth, but the growl and the sound of the ripping cloth seemed to jerk Elmer out of his frenzy. He was scared. Jumping up, he shouted, “I’ll kill that dog. I’ll brain him. Where’s a brick, somebody?”

  “Come here, Dan. Come here quick,” Luke cried. As the dog turned to him he grabbed him by the ruff. “You’re not hurt,” he said to Elmer. “It’s only your pants torn a little. Dan didn’t bite you.”

  “I’ll brain that dog,” Elmer shouted. “I’ve got a right to kill him now.”

  “If you want to hit somebody, come on, hit me now I’m standing up. Here,” he said to Eddie, “You hold Dan – and hold him this time.”

  “I’ll get you when your vicious dog isn’t with you,” Elmer yelled. “I’ll get you after my father has that dog destroyed.”

  “You can get me any time you want, Elmer. I’ll fight you any time you’re willing to have a fair fight.”

  “Aw, go on, beat it. Do you hear? Beat it.”

  As Luke dusted himself off, taking a long time, he waited for one of the other boys to make a friendly remark, or invite him to stay with them. But they had all grown profoundly meditative. They were all uneasy with one another. So finally Luke said, “Come on, Dan,” and he went off by himself.

  Cutting across the railroad tracks he started down the road home, and the dog, keeping close beside him, refused to be distracted by birds in the hedges or sounds in the ditches. They were both quiet and concerned. Luke’s head began to ache; he felt dizzy; his head had been pounded on the ground; there was a soreness in his scalp in the place where Elmer had tried to tear the hair out by the roots.

  After walking on silently for a quarter of a mile he said suddenly to Dan, “A loudmouth like Elmer is apt to say anything to his father. He’s apt to go home and tell his father that you bit him, Dan, and Mr. Highbottom is a friend of Uncle Henry’s, and that means trouble for you, and I don’t know how much trouble Uncle Henry thinks you’re worth.” What Luke was saying had no meaning for the dog, who knew nevertheless that Luke was worried; he kept glancing up at him, wanting him to go on talking.

  Luke got home just in time for dinner and when he was sitting at the table his aunt, noticing a scratch on his face, said, “Is that a scratch on your face, Luke? How did you get it?”

  “We were playing up in the lumber yard, jumping in the sawdust, Aunt Helen.”

  “What fun is there jumping in the sawdust, Luke?”

  “Oh, it’s something to do. You just jump, and you hit the sawdust.”

  “Why would anyone want to jump in sawdust? Who were you with?”

  “Elmer Highbottom.”

  “Oh. That’s nice. You’re becoming great friends, aren’t you,” she said approvingly.

  “Yeah,” he said. “We’re getting to know each other.”

  After dinner he sat down in the armchair in the corner and watched Uncle Henry making notes in the black notebook. Uncle Henry, in his shirt sleeves, big-faced, thin-haired, thoughtful now, his great shoulders hunched over the table, looked as if he had the strength of character to protect fearlessly everything that belonged to him; and Luke, watching him furtively, longed to reach out to him and claim that protection; but he seemed to see Mr. Highbottom coming into the room and explaining that the collie had bitten his son. Luke could almost hear them talking as one practical man to another, and coming finally to a practical arrangement. If Uncle Henry could only understand that Dan had intervened out of love, and that such love was important and practical because it was part of their life at the mill!

  And he kept on watching and telling himself Uncle Henry was a man who loved the sweet smell of wood. The kind of reliable man he could count on to protect Dan against a rich man like Mr. Highbottom. Suddenly Uncle Henry looked up; their eyes met; Uncle Henry smiled; feeling embarrassed Luke said quickly, “I guess I’ll go up and help Mr. Kemp round up the cows.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Valiant Hearted

  But no complaint came to Uncle Henry from Mr. Highbottom, and at school Elmer was as nonchalant with him as if nothing had happened. On Friday afternoon Eddie Shore, Elmer’s good friend, said to Luke, “Going to play ball tomorrow morning, Luke? Guess we’ll see you there, eh?”

  “Sure, I’ll be up there,” Luke said with a grateful grin.

  That Saturday morning at about ten o’clock he walked up to the ball field with Dan. When he got there he found only two other kids waiting, Eddie and Woodie Aliston, the undertaker’s son. It was a cloudy morning and l
ooked like rain; in fact it had rained a little early in the morning, so Luke assumed the other boys would show up later.

  While Dan lay under the hawthorn tree, Luke and Eddie and Woodie played three-cornered catch. Then the sun came out weakly. It looked as if the grass would dry and it would be a clear day. If the sun shone brightly, soon all the other kids would come to the field.

  “Here comes Elmer now,” Eddie said laconically.

  “Soon they’ll all be here,” Luke said. Feeling a little embarrassed about Elmer, he did not turn to watch him coming across the field. But Eddie, who had the ball, held on to it as he looked across the field; and he had such a big excited grin on his face that Luke turned to see what made him so happy.

  Elmer was coming toward them and with him was the big dog, Thor, on a chain, and the powerful dog was tugging and pulling Elmer along so that he had to lean back with his weight against the pull on the chain.

  “Why has he got that dog?” Luke asked. “That’s a real crazy dog.” Then his heartbeat came up high in his throat and he felt weak, for now he knew why Eddie had grinned and why he had been asked to come there that morning. “Come here, Dan,” he called quickly. As the old dog came slowly to him he whispered, “You stay right here with me, Dan. No matter what happens you stay here with me.”

  Elmer close to them now, had on a short-sleeved blue sweater and a pair of khaki pants, and he was grinning exultantly. The sight of Luke there with Dan beside him fitted perfectly into the plan Elmer had worked out, and the big dog with the wicked crazy eyes had already growled at Dan, who was waiting apprehensively. Thor was three inches higher and years younger than Dan and he hated everybody.

  “I see you’ve got your dog with you, Luke,” Elmer said with a smirk.