"You got enough money?"
He nodded.
"I never spent a cent of my own in sixteen years.
Your pappy wouldn't let me."
"What are you going to do?"
"Join up with a couple of old buddies.
We're takin' a Wild-West show up the coast to California.
Expect to have a real big time."
We stood around awkwardly for a moment, then Nevada put out his hand.
"So long, Jonas."
I held onto his hand. I could feel the tears hovering just beneath my eyelids.
"So long, Nevada." He walked around the car and got in behind the wheel.
Starting the motor he shifted into gear. He raised his hand in farewell just as he began to roll. "Keep in touch, Nevada," I yelled after him, and watched until he was out of sight.
I walked back into the house and went into the dining room. I sat down at the empty table.
Robair came in with an envelope in his hand.
"Mr. Nevada left this for you," he said.
Numbly I opened it and took out a note written laboriously in pencil:
Dear Son,
I ain't much of a man for good-bys, so this is it.
There ain't nothing any more for me to do around here so I figure it's time I went.
All my life I wanted to give you something for your birthday but your pappy always beat me to it.
Your pappy gave you everything.
So until now there was nothing you ever wanted that I could give you.
In this envelope you will find something you really want.
You don't have to worry about it.
I went to a lawyer in Reno and signed it all over good and proper.
Happy birthday.
Your friend, Nevada Smith
I looked at the other papers in the envelope.
They were Cord Explosives Company stock certificates endorsed over to my name.
I put them down on the table and a lump began to come up in my throat.
Suddenly, the house was empty.
Everybody was gone. My father, Rina, Nevada.
Everybody.
The house began to echo with memories.
I remembered what Rina had said, about getting out from under the shadow of my father.
She was right.
I couldn't live in this house.
It wasn't mine. It was his.
For me, it would always be his house.
My mind was made up.
I'd find an apartment in Reno. There wouldn't be any memories in an apartment.
I'd turn the house over to McAllister. He had a family and it would save him the trouble of looking for one.
I looked down at Nevada's note again.
The last line hit me.
Happy birthday.
A pain began to tie up my gut.
I had forgotten and Nevada had been the only one left to remember.
Today was my birthday.
I was twenty-one.