At eleven, the "twins" as Phineas Burke and Caleb James had come to be known by practically the whole of Durry, Colorado, were as precocious and daring as ever--if not worse. From day to day, George Burke and Philip and Loretta James never knew whether their day would end with one or both of the boys scraped, bruised, broken, or worse.
Phineas' favorite past-time was racing his best friend up hill and down on their sturdy horses. Caleb enjoyed these races, even though he usually lost. He came into his own, however, and was undeniably a match for any Burke when it came to scaling boulders. As he stretched and slimmed down, his edge became greater and he more and more frequently challenged Phineas or even Rodger and Bartholomew to climb boulders with him.
Loretta shook he head, "Philip, I'm terribly afraid he is going to over-reach himself one of these days and fall...to his death."
She added the final words softly, as she lovingly watched her light-hair son playing "horse" with his youngest sister, Beatrice.
Philip nodded, "I remind him so frequently to be careful that I fear I come across as nagging him. I suppose I could forbid him absolutely from climbing rocks, but I've never even seen him slip, so that seems absurd."
Loretta frowned thoughtfully, "I wouldn't do that. After all, he is a boy and clambering up rocks and trees is just something normal, healthy young men do, isn't it?"
At her husband's laugh, she continued, "Besides, how much more dangerous is it than the boys horse races? It it even is?"
Caleb was a good climber. No one disputed the fact. He was rather cocky about it to be sure, yet was never one to crow at another fellows slower, more seemingly calculated progress. In fact, it was his sympathy for a poor climber that caused the problem...
Caleb, Phineas, and Ted Smith, a year their senior, were out scaling Caleb's favorite rock, a fairly easy climb to the younger boys. Ted didn't have much practice scrambling up boulders, but wasn't about to be out-done by the youngsters whom he'd come to visit with for the day.
As usual, Caleb was out ahead. Nearly at the top, he looked down with a wide grin that crinkled up his freckled face. Phineas was about three feet below him. He returned the blazing grin of enjoyment and then followed his friend's eyes down to where Ted was very slowing inching his way upwards.
"Hey ya, Ted!" Caleb's breezy voice bounced down the big rock. "How ya doin'?"
Ted screwed up his face as he squinted up at the James boy hanging off the rock some five or six feet over his head.
He grunted through gritted teeth, "Comin'!"
Something about the way he spoke and the fashion in which he clung to the pitted rock-face nuzzled Caleb's sympathetic streak. He started scrambling back down the rock nearly as fast as he had gone up it. Getting level with Ted, he reached out and grasped him by the elbow.
"Ready to go down?"
Maybe Caleb was too cheery, too cocky, because suddenly and unexpectedly, Ted thrashed his arm and pushed Caleb away from him, snapping, "No!"
For a mere moment, Ted caught a look of mystification in the younger boy's blue eyes. The next instant Caleb had bounced off a narrow ledge three feet down and for the first time in his rough and tumble young life was screaming in abject terror as he plunged the next fifteen feet to the ground.
As soon as he saw his best friend slip, Phineas immediately back-tracked. Later he wondered how he got down as quickly as he did. He didn't even spare a burning glance for Ted, staring down with horrified eyes at the sprawled body at the foot of the boulder.
Ted never knew how he got down, but when he did, Phineas was tightening the girth of Ted's saddle. Eye's flashing, Phineas spun on Ted Smith and spit out, "Git outta here and bring Doc Harris just as fast as you can!"
Ted leapt into the saddle and rode like he had a horde of murderous Apaches on his heels. In fact, at that moment, he vaguely wondered if the Apaches might be easier to tangle with than his own conscience and Phineas' dangerously flashing eyes.
Phineas turned back and knelt by Caleb. Caleb's eyes were wide open, both fists clenched. Blood smeared him from head to toes. A femur bone protruded from his left leg...but he was alive as the short painful gasps coming between his white lips proved.
Phineas didn't say anything. He couldn't yet. He didn't try readjusting his friend's limbs into what might seem a more comfortable posture.
Caleb gasped, "Can't feel nothing 'zactly..."
His eye's roamed wildly for a moment, then he panted, "Pressure...like a steer." He tried to laugh, but tears came instead, "On my chest."
Phineas took his friend's hand and tried to say calmly, "Broke ribs, probably."
The very corners of Caleb's mouth twitched briefly in agreement.
Time weighed heavily on both lad's hands. Phineas found himself rambling on about clouds, grass, cattle, horses; anything to keep Caleb's mind distracted. By the time Doctor Harris arrived, having sent Ted to fetch a wagon, Caleb was clearly aflame with pain as the shock of the fall wore off.
When Ted returned, along with Rodger in the Burke's buckboard, Phineas gave him a withering glare before turning his back decidedly on him.
Doctor Harris had his hands full trying to keep Caleb from being overcome by hysterical panic, for by the time they got him home, the boy was terrified. Not so much because he was in pain--which no one doubted--but because he couldn't move his legs...even the unbroken one. He wasn't sure he could even feel them, but due to the racking ache throughout his body, pinpointing one particular sensation was practically impossible.
Phineas had been sent ahead to prepare the James'. Ted rode at the side of the wagon leading Caleb's horse. Rodger drove the buckboard and as he watched his brother gallop off at break-neck speed his whispered, "Lord, give him strength..."
Then his thoughts went ahead to the parents of the wide-eyed boy behind him and he looked at his hands, his heart full of prayers for Mr. and Mrs. James.
Philip and Loretta met them at the door.
"How is he?" Loretta's forward rush was stayed by her husband's detaining hands on her arms.
Doctor Harris shook his head uncertainly, "I can't be sure yet. What I can tell you is his left leg is broken badly, a good many of his ribs are smashed, and he can't feel his legs."
Upon hearing this last, Philip groaned and closed his eyes. Loretta stared into the distance, a look of particular distress on her face.
The doctor was quick to add, "It may just be temporary."
As soon as he had ducked into the bedroom with the boy, Philip blurted, "If Caleb can't walk again!"
He was unable to say more, but there was no need to. The entire family, except for maybe Bea, knew that Caleb would go crazy if he couldn't run, jump, climb, and romp like the normal eleven-year-old he was.
Ted came out of the barn where he had put up Caleb's horse. Phineas suddenly sprang forward, snapping, "This is all your fault!"
"Phineas!!"
Phineas stopped dead. He had never heard Mr. James raise his voice like that. He remained where he was as Philip stepped down from the porch and walked across the yard to where Ted was standing.
Ted was guilt ridden. It was plain as day. Philip could see that and as much as he knew that this boy was at least partly at fault for his son's accident, he could not, nor would not knowingly add to the boy's burden. He put his arm around Ted's shoulders, "Go on home, son. We'll send you word on how he's doing."
Ted nodded wordlessly and crawled onto his horse. Looking down at Philip, he whispered brokenly, "I am so sorry, Mr. James. Really."
"I know," Philip said comfortingly, patting the boys knee. "I know."
Phineas' favorite past-time was racing his best friend up hill and down on their sturdy horses. Caleb enjoyed these races, even though he usually lost. He came into his own, however, and was undeniably a match for any Burke when it came to scaling boulders. As he stretched and slimmed down, his edge became greater and he more and more frequently challenged Phineas or even Rodger and Bartholomew to climb boulders with him.
Loretta shook he head, "Philip, I'm terribly afraid he is going to over-reach himself one of these days and fall...to his death."
She added the final words softly, as she lovingly watched her light-hair son playing "horse" with his youngest sister, Beatrice.
Philip nodded, "I remind him so frequently to be careful that I fear I come across as nagging him. I suppose I could forbid him absolutely from climbing rocks, but I've never even seen him slip, so that seems absurd."
Loretta frowned thoughtfully, "I wouldn't do that. After all, he is a boy and clambering up rocks and trees is just something normal, healthy young men do, isn't it?"
At her husband's laugh, she continued, "Besides, how much more dangerous is it than the boys horse races? It it even is?"
Caleb was a good climber. No one disputed the fact. He was rather cocky about it to be sure, yet was never one to crow at another fellows slower, more seemingly calculated progress. In fact, it was his sympathy for a poor climber that caused the problem...
Caleb, Phineas, and Ted Smith, a year their senior, were out scaling Caleb's favorite rock, a fairly easy climb to the younger boys. Ted didn't have much practice scrambling up boulders, but wasn't about to be out-done by the youngsters whom he'd come to visit with for the day.
As usual, Caleb was out ahead. Nearly at the top, he looked down with a wide grin that crinkled up his freckled face. Phineas was about three feet below him. He returned the blazing grin of enjoyment and then followed his friend's eyes down to where Ted was very slowing inching his way upwards.
"Hey ya, Ted!" Caleb's breezy voice bounced down the big rock. "How ya doin'?"
Ted screwed up his face as he squinted up at the James boy hanging off the rock some five or six feet over his head.
He grunted through gritted teeth, "Comin'!"
Something about the way he spoke and the fashion in which he clung to the pitted rock-face nuzzled Caleb's sympathetic streak. He started scrambling back down the rock nearly as fast as he had gone up it. Getting level with Ted, he reached out and grasped him by the elbow.
"Ready to go down?"
Maybe Caleb was too cheery, too cocky, because suddenly and unexpectedly, Ted thrashed his arm and pushed Caleb away from him, snapping, "No!"
For a mere moment, Ted caught a look of mystification in the younger boy's blue eyes. The next instant Caleb had bounced off a narrow ledge three feet down and for the first time in his rough and tumble young life was screaming in abject terror as he plunged the next fifteen feet to the ground.
As soon as he saw his best friend slip, Phineas immediately back-tracked. Later he wondered how he got down as quickly as he did. He didn't even spare a burning glance for Ted, staring down with horrified eyes at the sprawled body at the foot of the boulder.
Ted never knew how he got down, but when he did, Phineas was tightening the girth of Ted's saddle. Eye's flashing, Phineas spun on Ted Smith and spit out, "Git outta here and bring Doc Harris just as fast as you can!"
Ted leapt into the saddle and rode like he had a horde of murderous Apaches on his heels. In fact, at that moment, he vaguely wondered if the Apaches might be easier to tangle with than his own conscience and Phineas' dangerously flashing eyes.
Phineas turned back and knelt by Caleb. Caleb's eyes were wide open, both fists clenched. Blood smeared him from head to toes. A femur bone protruded from his left leg...but he was alive as the short painful gasps coming between his white lips proved.
Phineas didn't say anything. He couldn't yet. He didn't try readjusting his friend's limbs into what might seem a more comfortable posture.
Caleb gasped, "Can't feel nothing 'zactly..."
His eye's roamed wildly for a moment, then he panted, "Pressure...like a steer." He tried to laugh, but tears came instead, "On my chest."
Phineas took his friend's hand and tried to say calmly, "Broke ribs, probably."
The very corners of Caleb's mouth twitched briefly in agreement.
Time weighed heavily on both lad's hands. Phineas found himself rambling on about clouds, grass, cattle, horses; anything to keep Caleb's mind distracted. By the time Doctor Harris arrived, having sent Ted to fetch a wagon, Caleb was clearly aflame with pain as the shock of the fall wore off.
When Ted returned, along with Rodger in the Burke's buckboard, Phineas gave him a withering glare before turning his back decidedly on him.
Doctor Harris had his hands full trying to keep Caleb from being overcome by hysterical panic, for by the time they got him home, the boy was terrified. Not so much because he was in pain--which no one doubted--but because he couldn't move his legs...even the unbroken one. He wasn't sure he could even feel them, but due to the racking ache throughout his body, pinpointing one particular sensation was practically impossible.
Phineas had been sent ahead to prepare the James'. Ted rode at the side of the wagon leading Caleb's horse. Rodger drove the buckboard and as he watched his brother gallop off at break-neck speed his whispered, "Lord, give him strength..."
Then his thoughts went ahead to the parents of the wide-eyed boy behind him and he looked at his hands, his heart full of prayers for Mr. and Mrs. James.
Philip and Loretta met them at the door.
"How is he?" Loretta's forward rush was stayed by her husband's detaining hands on her arms.
Doctor Harris shook his head uncertainly, "I can't be sure yet. What I can tell you is his left leg is broken badly, a good many of his ribs are smashed, and he can't feel his legs."
Upon hearing this last, Philip groaned and closed his eyes. Loretta stared into the distance, a look of particular distress on her face.
The doctor was quick to add, "It may just be temporary."
As soon as he had ducked into the bedroom with the boy, Philip blurted, "If Caleb can't walk again!"
He was unable to say more, but there was no need to. The entire family, except for maybe Bea, knew that Caleb would go crazy if he couldn't run, jump, climb, and romp like the normal eleven-year-old he was.
Ted came out of the barn where he had put up Caleb's horse. Phineas suddenly sprang forward, snapping, "This is all your fault!"
"Phineas!!"
Phineas stopped dead. He had never heard Mr. James raise his voice like that. He remained where he was as Philip stepped down from the porch and walked across the yard to where Ted was standing.
Ted was guilt ridden. It was plain as day. Philip could see that and as much as he knew that this boy was at least partly at fault for his son's accident, he could not, nor would not knowingly add to the boy's burden. He put his arm around Ted's shoulders, "Go on home, son. We'll send you word on how he's doing."
Ted nodded wordlessly and crawled onto his horse. Looking down at Philip, he whispered brokenly, "I am so sorry, Mr. James. Really."
"I know," Philip said comfortingly, patting the boys knee. "I know."
Sunday after church, the Burke and James fathers were rounding up their respective children. Philip had his all loaded when George walked up and threw a brief absent glance over his own wagon. Four of his sons sat or sprawled in various positions.
"Where the deuce is Phineas?" he exclaimed, slightly exasperated. "I've looked everywhere for him!"
Meanwhile, Phineas had slipped into a side street, waiting for the Bruce Smith family to walk by. He knew Ted would be hanging back at the end because such was his habit.
As the last of them walked past, Phineas reached out and hauled Ted into the alley with him. Ted was too startled to cry out and then he didn't have much change because Phineas landed a measured blow right in his mouth.
"That's for Caleb!" he hissed.
Sensing that he wasn't going to get away without a fight, Ted shook his head in an attempt to clear it and set his feet. He was ready for Phineas' next punch and in a matter of minutes, the boys had rolled out of the alley grappling one another.
Phineas ended up on the bottom by reason of his smaller size. He braced himself for the blow he expected Ted to land on him.
Suddenly, Ted, arm-back, fist clenched, stopped. The anger in his eyes disappeared, to be followed by grief and sorrow. He dropped his hand and got off Phineas. Reaching down, he wordlessly helped Phin to his feet, then turned away and walked off, blood running down his chin, shoulders squared.
Phineas stared after him and suddenly, his face crumpled and he sat down, putting his head into his hands and cried. He cried for shame of his actions, his words, his attitude, and for his friends--one seriously injured and one with the responsibility of that injury on his shoulders.
It was thus that George found him. It took just seconds for George to put two and tow together and arrive at the right conclusion. Scooping his son into his arms, he silently carried him to the wagon. He would talk about this later...
"Where the deuce is Phineas?" he exclaimed, slightly exasperated. "I've looked everywhere for him!"
Meanwhile, Phineas had slipped into a side street, waiting for the Bruce Smith family to walk by. He knew Ted would be hanging back at the end because such was his habit.
As the last of them walked past, Phineas reached out and hauled Ted into the alley with him. Ted was too startled to cry out and then he didn't have much change because Phineas landed a measured blow right in his mouth.
"That's for Caleb!" he hissed.
Sensing that he wasn't going to get away without a fight, Ted shook his head in an attempt to clear it and set his feet. He was ready for Phineas' next punch and in a matter of minutes, the boys had rolled out of the alley grappling one another.
Phineas ended up on the bottom by reason of his smaller size. He braced himself for the blow he expected Ted to land on him.
Suddenly, Ted, arm-back, fist clenched, stopped. The anger in his eyes disappeared, to be followed by grief and sorrow. He dropped his hand and got off Phineas. Reaching down, he wordlessly helped Phin to his feet, then turned away and walked off, blood running down his chin, shoulders squared.
Phineas stared after him and suddenly, his face crumpled and he sat down, putting his head into his hands and cried. He cried for shame of his actions, his words, his attitude, and for his friends--one seriously injured and one with the responsibility of that injury on his shoulders.
It was thus that George found him. It took just seconds for George to put two and tow together and arrive at the right conclusion. Scooping his son into his arms, he silently carried him to the wagon. He would talk about this later...