“He laid a good deal of stress upon his past,” said Rawley. “I suppose because he hasn’t any present—and darned little future, I’m afraid. He gave me some nuggets. Would you like a nugget ring, Mother?”
His mother glanced at the nuggets and pushed away Rawley’s hand that held them cupped in the palm.
“No, I wouldn’t. Not if your Grandfather King had anything to do with it. He’s been like a poison plant in the yard ever since I came here, Rawley; like poison ivy, that you’re careful not to go near. I don’t want to touch anything belonging to him—and I hope I’m not a vindictive woman, either.”
Rawley was rolling the nuggets in his hand, staring at them abstractedly.
“It’s queer—the whole thing,” he said finally. “I feel a sort of leaning toward Grandfather. It was something in his eyes. You know, Mother, it must be darned tough to have both legs chopped off at the knees when you’re a young husky over six feet in your socks and full of pep. I—believe I can understand Grandfather King. ‘A hunk of meat in a wheel chair’—that’s what he called himself. And those amazing blue eyes of his—”
His mother glanced curiously into his face. “They can’t be any bluer than yours, Rawley,” she observed.
Rawley looked up from the nuggets, his forehead wrinkled with surprise.
“Oh, do you think that, Mother?” He stood up suddenly, still shaking the nuggets with a dull clink in his hand. “Well, I hope Grandfather’s passed on a few more of his traits to me. There’s a few of them I’m going to need,” he said drily and kissed his mother good night.
CHAPTER TWO
JOHNNY BUFFALO BEARS ANOTHER MESSAGE
In his room, Rawley switched on the light and slid into the big chair by the table. Not to his mother could he confess how deeply those few minutes with Grandfather King had stirred him. In spite of her attitude toward the silent feud that had endured for nearly thirty years, he was conscious of the dull ache of remorse. Without meaning to judge his parents or to criticize their manner of handling a difficult situation, Rawley felt that night that he had been guilty of a great wrong toward his grandfather. He at least should have ignored the invisible wall that stood between the west wing and the rest of the house. He was a King; he should not have permitted that reasonless silence to endure through all these years.