Arizona -- Fiction; Grand Canyon (Ariz.) -- Fiction; Western stories
"Don't go to sleep for a minute, please! I can't stand it alone in
this moonlight. I never thought such thoughts in my life as I have
down here, about God and who I am and what a human being is. I tell
you, I'm going crazy."
Frank nodded, and began to fill his pipe. "Sit down close to the fire,
son. That's what the Canyon does to anybody that's thin skinned. I
went through it too. I tell you, Nucky, this life here in the Canyon
and the thoughts you think here, are the only real things. New York
and all that, is just the outer shell of living. Understand me?"
The boy nodded, his eyes fixed on Frank's with pitiful eagerness.
"It's clean out here. This country isn't all messed up with men and
women's badness. Everybody starts even and with a clean slate. Lord
knows, I was a worthless bunch when I struck here, fifteen years ago.
I'd been expelled from Yale in my senior year for gambling. I'd run
through the money my father'd left me. I'd gotten into a woman scrape
and I'd alienated every member of my family. Just why I thought a deck
of cards was worth all that, I can't tell you. But I did. Then I came
down here to see what the Canyon could do for my asthma and it cured
that, and by the Eternal, it cured my soul, too. Now listen to me,
son! You go back and lie down and put yourself to sleep thinking about
your real mother. Boys are apt to take their general build from their
mothers, so she was probably a big woman, not pretty, but with an
intellectual face full of character. Go on, now, Enoch! You need the
rest and we've got a full day to-morrow."
Nucky passed his hand unsteadily over his eyes, but rose without a
word, and Frank tucked him into his blankets, then sat quietly waiting
by the fire. It was not long before deep breaths that were
pathetically near to sobs told the guide that Nucky was asleep. Then
he rolled himself in his own blankets. The moon passed the Canyon wall
and utter darkness enwrapped the Canyon and the river which murmured
harshly as it ran.
Nucky wakened the next morning to the smell of coffee. He sat up and
eyed Frank soberly.
"Hello, New York! This is the Grand Canyon!" Frank grinned as he
lifted the coffee pot from the fire.
Nucky grinned in response. Shortly after, when he sat down to his
breakfast the grin had disappeared, but with it had gone the look of
sullenness that had seemed habitual.
"Frank," said Nucky, when breakfast was over, "do you care if I talk to
you some more about--you know--you know what you said last night? I
never talked about it to any one but Luigi, and it makes me feel
better."
"Sure, go ahead!" said Frank.
"My mother--" began Nucky.
"You mean Luigi's wife," corrected the guide.
"Luigi's wife was crazy about me. She loved me just as much as any
mother could. Luigi's always been jealous about it. That's why he
treated me so rotten."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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