Luke Baldwin's Vow

by Morley Callaghan

  “Yeah, Dan’s always with me, Elmer.”

  “That dog of yours is a mighty savage dog,” Elmer said softly. “It goes around biting people, doesn’t it?”

  “Dan’s not savage. Dan never bit anybody.”

  “Of course, I’m nobody. A dog that bites me isn’t really a savage dog. That’s not the way I heard it, eh, guys?” With a grin he turned to Eddie and Woodie, but they did not grin, for now that they were close to Thor and having heard him growl, they were frightened.

  And looking into Thor’s eyes, Luke realized what a crazy dog he really was; for the eyes, half yellow and half green, had no expression in them; they were like glass eyes, reflecting the light, only you couldn’t look into them. Dan’s one amber eye was soft and gentle like a deer’s; you could go on looking into it, seeing into Dan’s heart and liking what you saw, but this big dog’s eyes, because they were so bright and empty, were frightening.

  “You better take that dog home, Elmer,” Luke said. “Your father told me he was never to be let off the leash. I don’t think your father would like it if he made trouble for anybody.”

  “Is that a fact?” Elmer said mockingly.

  “What do you think you’re going to do, Elmer?”

  “I’m going to see if that dog of yours wants to growl and bite when there’s another dog around,” Elmer jeered. Slipping the chain off Thor’s collar, he pointed to Dan, “Go get him, boy,” he yelled. “Sic him.”

  “Grab him, Elmer. Please, please, grab him,” Luke cried out.

  Thor had growled, his lips trembling and drawing back from the long white teeth; he growled as Dan stiffened, then growled again, his hackles rising. And Dan, too, growled, his head down , backing away and waiting, and showing his teeth which were blunted and old.

  Thor leaped at Dan’s throat, trying to knock him over with the weight of the charge, trying to sink his teeth in the throat, trying to swing him over and kill him as if he were a rat.

  But Dan pivoted, sliding away to the side, and Thor’s snapping jaws missed the throat. For the moment, Dan became a thoroughbred whose life was in danger. His stiff leg, his one eye, his worn teeth were forgotten, as he drew on the ancient strength and wisdom of his breed; his strength was all in the heart and instinct of that breed, which was not the instinct to grip with his jaws and snarl and roll over clawing and kicking and cutting. As Thor missed, Dan did not back away and wait again. Doing what he would have done five years ago, he wheeled, and on the run, he sideswiped the big dog, slashing with his teeth at the flank; then, wheeling again, he returned, trying for another slashing rip.

  These fearless movements were executed so perfectly that Luke cried, “Oh, Dan,” but the slashes at Thor’s flank had not gone deep; they were not painful; they only mystified and infuriated the big dog.

  The sun, which had broken through the clouds, was now bright and shining in Thor’s wild empty eyes. Growling and scraping at the ground with his claws, he charged again; this leap was like the pounce of a great cat. But again the snapping jaws missed Dan’s throat, although this time Dan could not slip away; the weight of the charge catching him on the hip spun him around off balance and bewildered him a little because he had counted on being nimble and ready for his own sudden wheel and slash; his muscles hadn’t responded quickly enough. He backed away, bewildered a little.

  Luke was watching with both his hands up to his face; it was as if he was prepared to cover his eyes and scream but couldn’t; he was frozen to the one spot in an unbelieving trance. The two boys, Eddie Shore and Woodie Aliston, were close together, crouching a little and crazy with excitement. But the wide grin had gone from Elmer’s face; his jaw was moving loosely and he kept blinking his eyes.

  Thor had learned now that Dan was vulnerable on the left flank; the blind eye saw nothing, the good eye couldn’t shift quickly enough. Whirling quickly, Thor charged in again on that left flank, knocking Dan over, but the weight of his own charge caused Thor to sprawl over Dan; the teeth could only snap at the flank, and though both dogs had rolled in the grass, snarling and clawing, Dan was soon on his feet again.

  But Dan knew now that something was wrong; he knew that his instinctive style was no good; he couldn’t move fast enough and he was bleeding just behind the shoulder. When this heavy dog came whirling to the left of him, he couldn’t see him in time.

  It was like watching a bewildered old dog suddenly becoming aware of his age, and yet with courage trying to break itself of a style of fighting which was the only one its breed had known for hundreds of years. He was groping dimly by instinct for some way of accepting his handicap and using effectively whatever strength he had until he died.

  Circling and backing he drew near the trunk of the hawthorn tree; there he stood with the tree on his left, protecting that flank, so that Thor would have to charge toward the good eye.

  There he was prepared to die if he had to and die hard, and this resolution was revealed in the droop of his head and the way he waited, and all the boys saw it.

  “No, oh no, Elmer,” Eddie said weakly.

  “Elmer. Have some sense, Elmer,” Woodie pleaded.

  “Elmer!” Luke shrieked suddenly, and he grabbed Elmer by the throat. “I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you. Call him off or I’ll kill you!”

  But with a low exultant growl, Thor had leaped in again to pin Dan against the tree. Again he missed the throat as Dan swerved a little but he got his teeth in the shoulder, snarling and worrying, shaking his head as he rolled Dan over, shaking and stretching his neck away from Dan’s teeth, holding on tight till he could draw Dan underneath him on his back and then shift his jaws to Dan’s throat and kill him.

  The agonized growling and snarling was terrible and yet exultant and Luke screamed again, “Elmer! Elmer, oh, please call him off! He’ll kill him, Elmer,” but he had let go his hold on Elmer for he couldn’t take his eyes off Dan.

  And the other two boys, Eddie and Woodie, awed and sick, yelled, “Do something, Elmer. Don’t let him kill him, Elmer!” Elmer was fascinated by the power and viciousness of his dog, which he believed he couldn’t control.

  While he was sobbing, Luke realized all that Dan had meant to him. It was as if Dan was more than a dog; the collie seemed to have come out of that good part of his life, the part he had shared with his own father. Dan had come to share his life with him and understand what was truly important around the sawmill and help him to join this new life with the old good life.

  “Dan! Dan!” he screamed. He looked around wildly for help. On the other side of the tree was a thick broken branch. It flashed in his mind that he should use this branch as a club; this was in his mind as he rushed at the snarling dogs. But instead he kicked at Thor’s flank; he kicked three times with the good heavy serviceable shoes Uncle Henry had bought for him.

  Thor snarled, his head swinging around, his eyes bright with hate on Luke, the lip curled back from the fangs. Luke backed away toward the club. As he picked up the branch and held it with both hands, he felt numb all over; there was nothing but the paralyzing beat of his own heart; nothing else in the world.

  Seeing him there with the club, Thor tried to hold Dan down with his paws, then he suddenly growled as he let go of Dan’s shoulder and whirled on Luke.

  “Luke, come away from him,” Elmer screamed.

  “Run, Luke,” Eddie yelled. “Get someone at Stevenson’s, Woodie.”

  Woodie started to run across the field to Stevenson’s house as Luke, waiting, watched Thor’s trembling lip. The big dog’s growl was deep with satisfaction as he came two steps closer, the head going down.

  In Luke’s mind it was all like a dream; it was like a dream of Mr. Highbottom telling him he had once pounded Thor on the head with a club and of a story he had once read about Indians pounding the heads of wild dogs with clubs. But it was important that he should not wait, that he should attack the dog and subdue him.

  Dan, free now, had tried to get up and then had fallen back and was watchin
g him with his glowing eye.

  With a deep warning growl Thor crouched, and Luke rushed at him and cracked him on the skull, swinging the club with both hands. The big dog, trying to leap at him, knocked him down, and when he lurched and staggered to his feet, Thor was there shaking his head stupidly, but still growling. Not waiting, Luke rushed at the dog and whacked him on the head again and again. The crazy dog would not run; he was still trying to jump at him; suddenly he lurched, his legs buckled, and he rolled over on his side.

  While Elmer and Eddie were looking at him as if they were afraid of him, Luke did a thing he hated himself for doing. He went over and sat down beside Dan and put his hand on Dan’s head and then he started to cry. He couldn’t help it; it was just a relief; he felt weak and he ground his fists in his eyes.

  “Whew, Luke,” Elmer said in relief. “You might have got killed.”

  “Holy cow,” Eddie said softly. “Are you all right?”

  “You better put the chain on that dog of yours, Elmer,” Luke said when he could get his breath. “You’d better tie him up to the tree.”

  “Maybe he’s dead. Oh, Luke, what if he’s dead?”

  “Not that dog. Not that crazy dog. It’s Dan that’s hurt.”

  When Elmer was linking the chain to his dog’s collar, his legs trembled convulsively. Opening his eyes he tried to get to his feet, but Elmer had no trouble dragging him over to the tree and looping the chain around the tree.

  Across the field at the gate to the Stevenson house, Mr. Stevenson was talking with Woodie. They could see him point and shrug; there seemed to be no trouble over there by the tree; then he turned back to the house and Woodie came on alone.

  “Let’s see your shoulder, Dan,” Luke said gently to the collie lying quietly beside him. The collie knew he had been hurt, knew the muscle above the shoulder was torn and bleeding, yet he lay there quietly and patiently, regaining his strength while his flanks heaved. The good eye was turned to Luke. The collie wanted to rest a little, and then look after the wound in his own way, and with his intelligent amber eye he was trying to convey this to Luke.

  “Okay, okay,” Luke said softly. Taking out his handkerchief, he dabbed at the blood already congealing on the fur. The other three boys, kneeling down beside Luke, were silent; sometimes they looked at Luke’s white face. When he had mopped up the blood, he began to stroke Dan’s head softly and Dan, wiggling his tail a little, thumped the grass three times as if saying, “Leave me alone a few minutes, Luke. I’m all right.”

  “Maybe he’s not hurt so bad,” Elmer said nervously, for Dan, swinging his head around, had begun to lick the wound patiently; the clean pink tongue and the saliva on the tongue were cleaning and soothing the slash. The tongue was like a doctor’s medicinal sponge being used after surgery; and Luke and the other boys seemed to be waiting for Dan to come to a conclusion about the seriousness of his wound.

  “Can you get up, Dan?” Luke whispered. “Come on, try.”

  Slowly the collie rose and hobbled on three legs in a little circle, the wounded right leg coming down delicately and just touching the ground as it went. Coming over to Luke, who was kneeling and waiting anxiously, the old collie rubbed his nose against Luke’s neck, then flopped down again.

  “I guess he’ll be all right, won’t he?” Elmer asked anxiously.

  “Maybe that leg won’t be so good again,” Luke said mournfully. “Maybe it’ll never be good again.”

  “Sure it will, if nothing is broken, Luke,” Elmer insisted. As he got up he thrust his hands into his pockets and walked around aimlessly, his freckled face full of concern. Once he stopped and looked at his own dog, which was crouched by the tree, his eyes following Elmer. Thor was a subdued dog now. Growing more meditative and more unhappy, Elmer finally blurted out, “I guess you’ll tell your uncle what happened, eh, Luke?”

  “You knew Dan was my uncle’s dog,” Luke said grimly.

  “If you tell your uncle, well, your uncle will tell my father, and then there’ll be awful trouble, Luke.”

  “Well, you knew there’d be trouble, Elmer.”

  “I only wanted to scare you and chase Dan,” Elmer insisted. “I thought Dan would run and howl. I didn’t know Thor would turn on you. Oh, Luke, I was crazy. I didn’t stop to think.” With a sudden pathetic hopefulness he muttered, “I could have told my father that your dog slashed at me. Only I didn’t, Luke. I didn’t say anything though he asked me how I tore my pants.”

  “Okay, you didn’t say anything, Elmer. So what?”

  “Maybe if you don’t say anything . . . eh, Luke?”

  “Aw, I can look after myself, too,” Luke said grandly.

  “Well – well – in that case I’d sure think you were a great guy, Luke,” Elmer said fervently.

  “Sure, he’s a great guy,” Eddie agreed firmly.

  Eddie and Woodie wanted to make friendly gestures to Luke, and they didn’t quite know how to do it. They felt awkward and ashamed. They took turns petting Dan lovingly. They asked Luke if he wouldn’t go swimming down at the dock after lunch. “I’ll walk home with you, Luke,” Eddie offered.

  “I’m not letting him walk all that distance,” Luke said, and he knelt down, gathered Dan in his arms and hoisted him up on his shoulder. On the way across the field Luke and Eddie took their time and worried about Dan.

  “Let me carry him now,” Eddie said.

  “No, we’ll see if he can walk a little,” Luke said. It was extraordinary how effectively the old dog could travel on three legs. He hopped along briskly. Sometimes he would stop and let the wounded leg come down firmly, as if testing it, then come hopping along until Luke picked him up again.

  “We should take it easy,” Luke said. “Let’s rest a little now and then.” When they got to the road leading to the mill they sat down in the grass and took turns stroking Dan’s head.

  Going along that road, and resting every three hundred yards, Luke and Eddie conducted a conversation on a high and dignified plane. They were beginning a new relationship with each other. They both knew it and so they were a little shy and very respectful to each other. While they were talking about Dan, they were really trying to draw closer together. Eddie was offering a sincere admiring friendship and Luke knew it and accepted it gravely.

  On the road at Mr. Kemp’s place Luke said, “I think I’ll go in here, Eddie. Mr. Kemp’s a friend of mine and he’ll look at that slash on Dan’s leg. I don’t want my uncle to see it.”

  “That’s a good idea, Luke,” Eddie said. “Well, I’ll look for you this afternoon.”

  “At the dock. Sure, Eddie.”

  “Yeah. At the dock. Well, I’ll be seeing you, Luke.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be seeing you, Eddie.”

  Halfway up the path Luke suddenly dropped on his knees and put his arms around Dan and whispered, “You’re a wonderful old dog, Dan.” He couldn’t explain why he was so moved and grateful. It was as if the dog had really been struggling not only against the big wild Thor, but against the barrier between Luke and the other boys, and trying to make them truly friendly with Luke. From now on he could be free and happy with them all. “You’re some dog, Dan,” he whispered, rubbing his face against the dog’s nose, trying to show his gratitude.

  They found Mr. Kemp out at the barn, and he enjoyed helping them; he got a pail of hot water and bathed Dan’s wound and expressed the opinion that Dan would be running around on four legs in a few days. He agreed with Luke that it would be better not to tell Uncle Henry what had happened.

  But when he got back to the mill and saw Uncle Henry going toward the house, mounting the veranda steps, opening the screen door, his step decisive, his face so full of sensible determination, Luke longed to be able to tell him what had happened; not only because the dog was Uncle Henry’s property, and property ought to be protected, but because he suddenly believed, as he glanced at Uncle Henry’s burly shoulders, that Uncle Henry would have done just what he himself had done, and would be proud of him
. “The sensible thing would have been to pick up a club and smack that crazy dog on the head,” he could almost hear Uncle Henry say. “Why, that’s just what I did, Uncle Henry,” Luke imagined himself explaining, as he followed Uncle Henry into the house. “That was the practical thing, Luke. The only practical thing. That dog was our property,” Uncle Henry would agree. “I can certainly see that anything we own around here is going to be well looked after by you, Luke.”

  But of course he would never be able to see this glow of approval in his uncle’s eyes, which was so important to him, because he had promised Elmer that he would not tell Uncle Henry.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  A Useless Thing

  Uncle Henry didn’t notice that the dog limped badly for a week, or, if he did notice it he didn’t say anything to Luke. The summer holidays had come and on the afternoon of Civic Holiday, Uncle Henry drove Luke and Aunt Helen in to the fairgrounds. On that day there were to be trotting races and the judging of livestock and a ball game between the town team and a team from the crew of the City of Cleveland, which was in the harbor.

  Luke wanted to take Dan in the car with them, but Uncle Henry said that Dan’s job was to stay home and watch the place. If he wasn’t a watchdog now, what was he, Uncle Henry asked. So Dan followed the car to the highway and then turned back to the house.

  At the fairgrounds Luke stayed with his aunt and uncle for the first half hour out of politeness, going with them to look at the display of fruit and vegetables, and then to look at the prize cattle and listen to his uncle talking professionally about a powerful Holstein bull, or a champion Jersey milk cow. With a cigar in one hand, the words rolling out of him authoritatively, Uncle Henry was just as impressive talking about cattle as he was about lumber in the mill. He had on a fine, well-pressed, gray suit, and wore a heavy gold watch chain, and looked so impressive that Luke was proud of him. He looked like a big, open-hearted, generous man, and he gave Luke a dollar to spend on ice-cream and hot dogs. He knew Luke wanted to get out in the field, for they had erected a merry-go-round, and the ball game was on, and all the kids were out there. The part of the fair that Luke liked, the noise and erratic gaiety and the happy disorder, was the part that Uncle Henry wanted to avoid. Luke could see that Uncle Henry was not at home in a jolly fairgrounds or in a circus. Everything was too disorderly and unplanned and careless and it all went against his nature, but he said to Luke, “You can run along by yourself now, Luke, and have some fun, and I’ll meet you at five o’clock by the judges’ stand after the races are over.”