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The Big-Town Round-Up, a fiction by William MacLeod Raine |
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Chapter 25. Johnnie Says He Is Much Obliged |
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_ CHAPTER XXV. JOHNNIE SAYS HE IS MUCH OBLIGED Beatrice, just back from riding with Bromfield, stood on the steps in front of the grilled door and stripped the gloves from her hands. "I'm on fire with impatience, Bee," he told her. "I can hardly wait for that three weeks to pass. The days drag when I'm not with you." He was standing a step or two below her, a graceful, well-groomed figure of ease, an altogether desirable catch in the matrimonial market. His dark hair, parted in the middle, was beginning to thin, and tiny crow's-feet radiated from the eyes, but he retained the light, slim figure of youth. It ought not to be hard to love Clarendon Bromfield, his fiancee reflected. Yet he disappointingly failed to stir her pulses. She smiled with friendly derision. "Poor Clary! You don't look like a Vesuvius ready to erupt. You have such remarkable self-control." His smile met hers. "I can't go up and down the street ringing a bell like a town crier and shouting it out to everybody I meet." Round the corner of the house a voice was lifted in tuneless song.
"Johnnie isn't engaged to the loveliest creature under heaven. He doesn't have to lie awake nights for fear the skies will fall and blot him out before his day of bliss." Beatrice dropped a little curtsy. She held out her hand in dismissal. "Till to-morrow, Clary." As Bromfield turned away, Johnnie came round a corner of the house dragging a garden hose. He was attacking another stanza of the song:
"What did you drink that has made you so happy this morning, Johnnie?" she asked lightly. The cowpuncher's secret burst from him. "I done got married, Miss Beatrice." "You--what?" "I up and got married day before yesterday," he beamed. "And who's the happy girl?" "Kitty Mason. We jes' walked to the church round the corner. Clay he stood up with us and give the bride away. It's me 'n' her for Arizona _poco pronto_." Beatrice felt a queer joyous lift inside her as of some weight that had gone. In a single breath Johnnie had blown away the mists of misunderstanding that for weeks had clouded her vision. Her heart went out to Clay with a rush of warm emotion. The friend she had distrusted was all she had ever believed him. He was more--a man too stanch to desert under pressure any one who had even a slight claim on him. "I want to meet her. Will you bring her to see me this afternoon, Johnnie?" she asked. His face was one glad grin. "I sure will. Y'betcha, by jollies." He did. To Beatrice, busy writing a letter, came Jenkins some hours later. "A young--person--to see you, Miss Whitford." He said it with a manner so apologetic that it stressed his opinion of the social status of the visitor. "What kind of a person?" "A young woman, Miss. From the country, I tyke it." "She didn't give you a card?" "No, Miss. She came with the person Mr. Whitford took on to 'elp with the work houtside." "Oh! Show them both up. And have tea sent in, Jenkins." Kitty's shy eyes lifted apprehensively to those of this slim young patrician so beautifully and simply gowned. Instantly her fears fled. Beatrice moved swiftly to her with both hands outstretched. "I'm so glad to meet you." She kissed the young wife with unaccustomed tenderness. For the Colorado girl had about her a certain modesty that was disarming, an appeal of helplessness Beatrice could not resist. Kitty, in the arms of her hostess, wept a few tears. She had been under a strain in anticipating the ordeal of meeting Johnnie's mistress, and she had discovered her to be a very sweet, warm-hearted girl. As for Johnnie, he had a miserably happy half-hour. He had brought his hat in with him and he did not know how to dispose of it. What he did do was to keep it revolving in his hands. This had to be abandoned when Miss Whitford handed him a quite unnecessary cup of tea and a superfluous plate of toasted English muffins. He wished his hands had not been so big and red and freckled. Also he had an uncomfortable suspicion that his tow hair was tousled and uncombed in spite of his attempts at home to plaster it down. He declined sugar and cream because for some reason it seemed easier to say "No'm" than "Yes," though he always took both with tea. And he disgraced himself by scalding his tongue and failing to suppress the pain. Finally the plate, with his muffin, carefully balanced on his knee, from some devilish caprice plunged over the precipice to the carpet and the bit of china broke. Whereupon Kitty gently reproved him, as was her wifely duty. "I ain't no society fellow," the distressed puncher explained to his hostess, tiny beads of perspiration on his forehead. Beatrice had already guessed as much, but she did not admit it to Johnnie. She and Kitty smiled at each other in that common superiority which their sex gives them to any mere man upon such an occasion. For Mrs. John Green, though afternoon tea was to her too an alien custom, took to it as a duck does to water. Miss Whitford handed Johnnie an envelope. "Would it be too much trouble for you to take a letter to Mr. Lindsay?" she asked very casually as they rose to go. The bridegroom said he was much obliged and he would be plumb tickled to take a message to Clay. When Clay read the note his blood glowed. It was a characteristic two-line apology:
BEATRICE _ |
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