Part 30 (2/2)
”Are his humble slaves to be honored with his presence at the noonday meal? Allah, oh Allah! Jerry, aren't you overwhelmed at this tribute to our charms?”
”Can't a man lunch beneath his own vine and fig tree without creating a panic? From now on I shall make it a daily rite that you may get used to it,” Steve laughed. He laid his hand on Benson's shoulder. ”Tommy, you're a hero. Slippy Bend is agog with admiration. What the populace can't think of to say in praise of you the deputy sheriff supplies in the most colorful vernacular the locality produces. Don't run; I won't say any more,” as Benson, fiery red, half rose from his chair. Steve seated himself opposite Jerry.
She observed him resentfully from behind a screen of lashes. He looked more care-free and debonair than she had ever seen him while her heart still contracted suffocatingly at any thought of the morning. It was just like a man, nothing went deep, she thought. Ming Soy fluttered about in devoted antic.i.p.ation of his needs; Peggy poured cream into his tea with a lavish hand. Benson laughed.
”You're a master tactician, old dear. You let your light s.h.i.+ne upon us but seldom and behold the devotion when you do appear. Alas, 'Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare.' I'll say your beatific expression would put the twinkle-twinkle-little-star effect out of business. Got a load off your mind, haven't you? Slowman tells me that the Shorthorns are back to a hoof, that our temperamental late manager is being securely, if not luxuriously accommodated with quarters in the jail and that--that Mrs. Denbigh is en route to the effete East via Slippy Bend.
Is my information correct?” He stole a surrept.i.tious glance at Jerry who, with the aid of a pink-tipped finger, was nonchalantly sailing rose petal boats on the sea of her crystal finger-bowl.
”It is. The tangle of the last few months is straightening out. From now on I'll subscribe to that bit of philosophy of Doc Rand's, 'Things have a marvelous, unbelievable way of coming right.' The late unpleasantness has resulted in one thing: we have an all-American outfit on the Double O ranch on whose honor I'd stake my last dollar. They may come of varied and contending races but when it comes to ideals of service and loyalty to the nation, they're united. Next week I'm going to Uncle Nick's camp in the mountains to inspect the silver mine, and incidentally to fish. There is a lake there where the trout are so thick they form bread-lines to get a chance at the bait.”
”You tell 'em!” jeered Benson.
”It's a fact. I want to shake the memory of the last two months, to get away so that I can come back and make a fresh start. I'll leave you in charge of the ranch, Tommy.”
”'When Caesar says, ”Do this,” it is performed.'”
”What's on for this afternoon? Let's do something. I want to get yesterday out of my mind.”
”Miss Glamorgan and I thought--I thought--that if you didn't need me, we'd ride over to Buzzard's Hollow; that spot seems to be occupying stage center now. I'll personally conduct you and Mrs. Steve over the abandoned aeroplane if you'll mosey along with us.”
Jerry tried to control a shudder. She wondered if she could ever again hear the name of the hollow without seeing a close-up of Beechy and Ranlett and that mutilated calf. She sensed Courtlandt's quick look at her and answered hurriedly:
”Don't count me in. I shan't ride again until--until I have forgotten the hours I spent in the saddle yesterday. Buzzard's Hollow as an objective leaves me cold. If no one else wants the roadster I shall drive over to the B C to inquire for Mrs. Carey. Mother Eagan may allow me to see the baby.”
Jerry could have cheerfully bitten out her too confiding tongue when an hour later she found Steve waiting beside the roadster at the front door. He had changed from his usual riding togs to sport clothes. He reddened under her surprised eyes.
”Have you gone saddle shy too?” she asked flippantly to conceal her frightened suspicion that he was going with her.
”No, but I must see Beechy and as you were going to Bear Creek I thought we'd go along together.”
”But--I--would rather----”
”Get in, please. It will take time to get to the B C by the road in this car, which is far from being the last word in speed-limit violators.”
With teeth set in her lips to steady them Jerry stepped into the roadster. What motive was back of Steve's decision to accompany her, she wondered, as the car shot smoothly ahead under his skilful driving. She regarded him covertly from under the brim of her rose-colored hat. He was gazing straight ahead, his brows knit in a slight frown. The silence between them seemed heavy with portent. She must say something. From far off came a faint whistle.
”Is that the east-bound train?” she asked and then wished fervently that she hadn't.
”Yes. Just pulling out of Slippy Bend. Felice is on it. Jerry, I want you to understand that the situation you stumbled on this morning was merely some of her theatrical clap-trap. When I told her about Phil she flung herself into my arms and pretended to be overcome.”
”Don't apologize,” the girl mocked, then as she caught a dangerous gleam in his eyes she abandoned thin ice. ”Has Mr. Denbigh----”
”I got Phil's mother on long distance soon after midnight. Gerrish took him--went East in the early morning.”
”Was he a dear friend of yours?”
”No. He was in my cla.s.s at college but he was always aloof, unfriendly.
While the rest of us were in athletics he was devoting himself to his violin. We thought him indifferent but I understand now that his position had corroded his sensitive heart.”
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