The Boss of the Lazy Y | Page 7

But he reveled in his passions, the possession
of them filled him with an ironic satisfaction--they were his heritage.
While he sat in the chair the blackness of the night enveloped him. He
heard no sound from the other part of the house and he finally decided
to find and confront his father. He stood erect, lit the cigarette and
threw the match from him, accidentally striking his hand against the
back of the chair on which he had been sitting. Yielding to a sudden,
vicious anger, he kicked the chair out of the way, so that it slid along
the rough floor a little distance and overturned with a crash. Calumet
cursed. He was minded to take the chair up and hurl it down again, so
vengeful was the temper he was in, but his second sober sense urged
upon him the futility of attacking inanimate things and he contented
himself with snarling at it. He stood silent for a moment, a hope in his
heart that his father, alarmed over the sudden commotion, would come
to investigate, and a wave of sardonic satisfaction swept over him when
he finally heard a faint sound--a footstep in the distance.

His father had heard and was coming!
Calumet stood near the center of the room, undecided whether to make
his presence known at once or to secrete himself and allow his father to
search for him. He finally decided to stand where he was and let his
father come upon him there, and he stood erect, puffing rapidly at the
cigarette, which glowed like a firefly in the darkness.
The steps came nearer and Calumet heard a slight creak--the sound
made by the dining-room door as it swung slowly open. A faint light
filled the opening thus made in the doorway, and Calumet knew that
his father had come without a light--that the faint glow came from a
distance, possibly from the kitchen, just beyond the dining-room. The
lighted space in the doorway grew wider until it extended to the full
width of the doorway. And a man stood in it, rigid, erect, motionless.
Calumet stood in silent appreciation of the oddness of the situation--he
had come like a thief in the night--until he remembered the cigarette in
his mouth; that its light was betraying his position. He reached up,
withdrew the cigarette, and held it concealed in the palm of his hand.
But he was the fraction of a second too late. His father had seen the
light; was aware of his presence. Calumet saw a pistol glitter in his
hand, heard his voice, a little hoarse, possibly from fear, give the
faltering command:
"Hands up!"
Until now, Calumet had been filled with a savage enjoyment of the
possibilities. He had counted on making his presence known at this
juncture, anticipating much pleasure in the revelation of his father's
surprise when he should discover that the intruder was his hated son.
But in his eagerness to conceal the fire from the cigarette he burned the
palm of the hand holding it. Instantly he succumbed to a furious rage.
With a snarl he flung himself forward, grasping the man's pistol with
his left hand and depressing the muzzle, at just the instant that it was
discharged.

Calumet felt the sting of the powder in his face, and in a fury of
resentment he brought his right hand up and clutched his father's throat.
He had taken much pride in his ability to control his passions, but at
this moment they were unleashed. When his father showed resistence,
Calumet swung him free of the door, dragged him to the center of the
room, where he threw him heavily to the floor, falling on top of him
and jamming a knee savagely into the pit of his stomach. Perhaps he
had desisted then had not the man struggled and fought back. His
resistence made Calumet more furious. He pulled one hand free and
attempted to secure the pistol, forcing the hand holding it viciously
against the floor. The weapon was again discharged and Calumet
became a raging demon. Twice he lifted the man's head and knocked it
furiously against the floor, and each time he spoke, his voice a hoarse,
throaty whisper:
"So, this is the way you greet your son, you damned maverick!" he
said.
So engrossed was Calumet with his work of subduing the still
struggling parent that he did not hear a slight sound behind him. But a
flickering light came over his shoulder and shone fairly into the face of
the man beneath him, and he saw that the man was not his father but an
entire stranger!
He was not given time in which to express his surprise, for he heard a
voice behind him and turned to see a