The truck brought up dust as it moved over the road less flat land. It stopped where two cowboys stood at the edge of a deep canyon.

"Where is he?" Tanner asked. The older cowboy named John pointed to the canyon.

"Down there," he said.

Tanner Walked to the edge. "What is he doing?"

"Barry said he heard him crying. I heard nothing." John answered.

"You heard him?" Tanner asked the younger man.

Barry took off his cowboy hat and smoothed his long brown hair, "Yes, I heard him."

"Maybe heard something else." John said.

Barry shook his head, "Sounded like crying." Tanner stepped away from the edge. "How long is he being gone?"

John looked at his watch, "One two hours since I told him."

"Is that why he's down there?"

"Sure that's why," Barry said roughly, "John should not have said anything."

"I just told him what everybody says. I did not know the boy was going to run off."

Tanner looked from one to the other. "It is down," He said, " No one is to blame. Call down to him." He said to Barry, "See, if he is down there."

"Rail, Hey Rail. It's Barry. Are you down there? Rail, listen. We want you to come out."

He could see the aspen trees in the canyon. Their leaves were shaking white and then dark in the last light of day. But only the sound of his own voice came back.

"he is not down there." John said.

Barry went on. "Rail, John says he is sorry. We want to help you get out."

"I am not sorry." John shouted, "I did not do anything."

Tanner stepped between them. "If he is down there, he is not going to answer."



For a moment they all stood, not knowing what to do. The sky was blue gray and getting darker.

"We might it well go on," Tanner said at last. "And leave them?" Barry asked.

"There is nothing wrong with spending a cold night outside once in the wild." Tanner answered.

"I am not worried about the night." Barry said, "I am worried about what Rail is thinking. You two go back. I will stay here a while and talk to him."

The two other men turned to go back to the truck.

Then Barry called out, "John, maybe you should wonder what Rail is thinking down there."

Somewhere below in the aspen trees, Rail was sitting. Barry imagined him sitting and not walking. He tried to listen for Rail's crying. He had heard it so clearly before.

He had called out once softly, "Rail."



And the low moaning sound has stopped. Barry lit a cigarette. He wondered if Rail could see the light. He thought about the young cowboy, small not as strong as most men, thin, skinny as a Rail. Barry looked down into the blackness.

"Rail, You do not have the answer. Just listen to me. I will talk slowly or play a little. And you can listen."



The stars were out by the thousands. He played a little more and then stopped. The silence seemed welcome.

"You know, Rail. When I was a kid, I, I did some funny things, not things to laugh at but strange things. I never knew where I was going the way you do. You know what you want." He did not know if Rail was listening, but he did not stop. He had a firm belief that Rail was there.

"I had a boy once." His voice was strong, "No one else at the ranch knows that I had a boy. It is one of those things you keep hidden from the people you see everyday like a secret only much more severe, like a dream too, only more real. The boy's mother did not even know that I know about my own son. I read it in a newspaper when he was born."

Barry laughed, "Maybe you think she was ugly to go with someone like me, but she was beautiful. I met her in a drinking place, a place where she did not belong. She just came up to my table and looked at me. I have never seen a look like that anywhere else."

Barry felt his voice was getting too loud. He calmed himself down. "You know me, Rail. My mouth is too big and thick. My face is too long. I could use some way just like you, but she chose me."



Then, Barry looked up at the sky. He could remember often seeing the stars as thick as they were at that night. But never before had he understood the great deep blackness behind them. It was like looking into nothing. No air, no color, nothing. It hurt him to look at the sky like that.

"Rail," He said, "Sometimes, your feeling is all gone, like that evening when Lerwin came down. Remember? Lerwin said she was going to see you. You believed her. And then, she did not even look at you. I know it affected you. That is the way you are."

He expected an answer. "Rail, you down there, Rail. I will stay out here with you all nights. I just wish I knew you wanted me to stay."



The wind stopped it up again. "She took me white out of that place. That is the way my boy was begun. I found out later what she was, a doctor's wife, a smart girl who lived in a big house on the hill. She had my boy."

Then a thought struck him. Maybe Rail did not want to be found. He stood up. "I am going home now, Rail. Just speak up if you want me to stay."

The silence was heavy. He waited half an hour. It seemed like two. Then, he walked to the edge of the canyon again.

"Rail, listen. I never went away. I have been waiting for you to start a fire or make some signs. But it is all right to be quiet. I will be here."



The wind came up stronger. There was the smell of rain.

"That was fourteen years ago. I was 20, just a year older than you. I never married the woman. As soon as she knew she was pregnant, she came to me." He saw it all again in his mind. She had come to him in his small room. She had no time to wait. She had to get home to her husband. She came flying across the room toward him. He thought she was going to hate him. I am going to have your baby, she said. He had spoken a little aloud. The words seemed to float out over the canyon. "I thought she were going to blame me. But she said she wanted to leave her husband and come with me."



Rain began to fall. It washed through quickly without thunder or lightning. Barry turned his back to it. He said nothing until the land was quiet again. "I could not do it. I saw it was impossible. We did not belong to the same world. We could never have been happy. So, Rail. I know a little about growing up too. You are going to be OK."



The buildings of the ranch spread out through the trees. One was the bunkhouse where Barry, John and Rail lived. Barry got there early in the morning as John was coming out.

"Find him?" John asked.

"No," Barry answered, "He must still be down in the canyon. I talked to him all last night."

"What did he say?"

"Lots of things you would not understand."



Another cowboy stepped out the bunkhouse. Each morning, Tanner met them in the yard and gave them their tasks for the day. He was walking toward them now. "Just got a telephone call," Tanner said, "He is all right."

"Where is he?" Barry asked.

"In *. He is in jail."

"What do you mean?"

"Rail was in town last night. He had too much to drink. Somebody got mad and called the sheriff. It will cost 30 dollars to get him out of jail."

"I have it." Said Barry.

"Ok. Let me know when you get back."

He turned and walked to the barn. After a while, Barry went into the bunkhouse to change his clothes. There was no hurry to get to town. Rail could wait a little longer.



You have been listening to the American story Looking into Nothing by Kent Nelson. It appeared in the publication the Transatlantic Review and was adapted by Donald Discenctus. Your narrator was Shep O'Neal. For VOA Special English. This is Doug Johnson.
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