by Max Brand
CHAPTER XXVIII
SALLY BREAKS A MIRROR
As Sally had remarked the night before, one does not pay much attentionto a toilet when one rises at 5 a.m. At least that is the rule, butSally, turning out with a groan in the chill, dark room, shut off thealarm, lighted her lamp, and set about the serious task of dressing. Awoman, after all, is much like a diplomatic statesman; a hint alongcertain lines is more to her than a sworn statement.
She had secured a large mirror, and in front of this she labouredpatiently for a full ten minutes, twisting her hair this way and that,and using the comb and brush vigorously. Now and then, as she worked,she became aware that a fluff of hair rolling down low over her foreheaddid amazing things to her face and brought her from Sally Fortune intothe strange dignity of a "lady." But she could not complete any of themanoeuvres, no matter how promisingly they started. In the end shedashed a handful of hairpins on the floor and wound the hair about herhead with a few swift turns.
She studied the sullen, boyish visage which looked back at her. Afterall, she would be unmercifully joked if she were to appear with her hairgrown suddenly fluffy and womanly--it would become impossible for her torun the eating-place without the assistance of a man, and a fighting manat that. So what was the use? She threw the mirror crashing on thefloor; it splintered in a thousand pieces.
"After all," she murmured aloud, "do I want to be a woman?"
The sullen mouth undoubtedly answered "No"; the wistful eyes undoubtedlyreplied in another key. She shrugged the question away and stepped outof her room toward the kitchen, whistling a tune to raise her spirits.
"Late, Sally," said the cook, tossing another hot cake on the growingpile which surmounted the warmer.
"Sure; I busted my mirror," said Sally.
The cook stared at her in such astonishment that he allowed a quantityof dough to fall from the dish cupped in the hollow of his arm; itoverflowed the griddle-iron.
"Blockhead!" shouted Sally. "Watch your step!"
She resumed, when the dough had been rescued by somewhat questionablemeans: "D'you think a girl can dress in the dark?"
But the cook had had too much experience with his employer to press whatseemed a tender point. He confined his attention to the pancakes.
"There ain't no fool worse than a he-fool," continued Sally bitterly."Which maybe you think a girl can dress without a mirror?"
Since this taunt brought no response from her victim, she went on intothe eating-room. It was already filling, and the duties of her strenuousday began.
They continued without interruption hour after hour, for the popularityof her restaurant had driven all competition out of Eldara, a resultwhich filled the pocket-book and fattened the bank account of SallyFortune, but loaded unnumbered burdens onto her strong shoulders. Forshe could not hire a waiter to take her place; every man who came intothe eating-room expected to be served by the slim hands of Sallyherself, and he expected also some trifling repartee which would makehim pay his bill with a grin.
The repartee dragged with Sally to-day, almost to sullenness, and whenshe began to grow weary in the early afternoon, there was no reservestrength on which she could fall back. She suddenly became aware thatshe wanted support, aid, comfort. Finally she spilled a great armful of"empties" down on the long drain-board of the sink, turned to the wall,and buried her face in her hands. The cook, Bert, though he cast astartled glance at her would not have dared to speak, after thatencounter of the morning, but a rather explosive sniff was too eloquentan appeal to his manliness.
His left sleeve having fallen, he rolled it back, tied the strings ofthe apron tighter about his plump middle, and advanced to the battle.His hand touched the shoulder of the girl.
"Sally!"
"Shut your face!" moaned a stifled voice.
But he took his courage between his teeth and persisted.
"Sally, somethin' is wrong."
"Nothin' you can right, Fatty," said the same woe-stricken voice.
"Sally, if somebody's been gettin' fresh with you--"
Her arms jerked down; she whirled and faced him with clenched fists;her eyes shining more brightly for the mist which was in them.
"Fresh with me? Why, you poor, one-horned yearling, d'you think there'sanybody in Eldara man enough to get fresh with me?"
Bert retreated a step; caution was a moving element in his nature. Froma vantage point behind a table, however, he ventured: "Then what iswrong?"
Her woe, apparently, was greater than her wrath.
She said sadly: "I dunno, Bert. I ain't the man I used to be--I mean,the woman."
He waited, his small eyes gentle. What woman can altogether resistsympathy, even from a fat man and a cook? Not even the redoubtable soulof a Sally.
She confessed: "I feel sort of hollow and gone--around the stomach,Fatty."
"Eat," suggested the cook. "I just took out a pie that would--"
"But it ain't the stomach. It's like bein' hungry and wantin' no food.Fatty, d'you think I'm sick?"
"You look kind of whitish."
"Fatty, I feel--"
She hesitated, as though too great a confession were at her lips, butshe stumbled on: "I feel as if I was afraid of somethin', or someone."
"That," said Bert confidently, "ain't possible. It's the stomach, Sally.Something ain't agreed with you."
She turned from him with a vague gesture of despair.
"If this here feelin' is goin' to keep up--why, I wisht I was dead--Iwisht I was dead!"
She went on to the swinging door, paused there to dab her eyes swiftly,started to whistle a tune, and in this fashion marched back to theeating-room. Fatty, turning back to the stove, shook his head; he wasmore than ever convinced in his secret theory that all women are crazy.
Sally found that a new man had entered, one whom she could not rememberhaving seen before. She went to him at once, for it seemed to her thatshe would die, indeed, if she had to look much longer on the familiar,unshaven faces of the other men in the room.
"Anything you got," said the stranger, who was broad of hands and thickof neck and he cast an anxious eye on her. "I hear you seen something ofa thinnish, dark feller named Bard."
"What d'_you_ want with him?" asked Sally with dangerous calm.
"I was aimin' to meet up with him. That's all."
"Partner, if you want to stand in solid around here, don't let out thatyou're a friend of his. He ain't none too popular; that's straight andputtin' it nice and easy."
"Which who said I was his friend?" said the other with heat.
She turned away to the kitchen and reappeared shortly, bearing his meal.The frown with which she departed had disappeared, and she was smilingas brightly as ever while she arranged the dishes in front of him. Hepaid no attention to the food.
"Now," she said, resting both hands on the table and leaning so that shecould look him directly in the eye: "What's Bard done now?Horse--gun-fighter--woman; which?"
The other loosened the bandanna which circled his bull neck.
"Woman," he said hoarsely, and the blood swelled his throat and facewith veins of purple.
"Ah-h-h," drawled the girl, and straightening, she dropped both hands onher hips. It was a struggle, but she managed to summon another smile.
"Wife--sister--sweetheart?"
The man stared dubiously on her, and Sally, mother to five hundred wildrangers, knew the symptoms of a man eager for a confidant. She slippedinto the opposite chair.
"It might be any of the three," she went on gently, "and I know becauseI've seen him work."
"Damn his soul!" growled the other by way of a prefix to his story. "Itain't any of the three with me. This Bard--maybe he tried his hand withyou?"
Whether it was rage or scorn that made her start and redden he could nottell.
"Me?" she repeated. "A tenderfoot get fresh with me? Stranger, you ain'tbeen long in Eldara or you wouldn't pull a bonehead like that."
"'Scuse me. I was hopin' that maybe you took
a fall out of him, that'sall."
He studied the blue eyes. They had been tinted with ugly green a momentbefore, but now they were clear, deep, dark, guileless blue. He couldnot resist. The very nearness of the woman was like a gentle, cool handcaressing his forehead and rubbing away the troubles.
"It was like this," he began. "Me and Lizzie had been thick for a coupleof years and was jest waitin' till I'd corralled enough cash for astart. Then the other day along comes this feller Bard with a queer wayof talkin' school language. Made you feel like you was readin' a bit outof a dictionary jest to listen to him for a minute. Liz, she neverheard nothin' like it, I figure. She got all eyes and sat still andlistened. Bein' like that he plumb made a fool out of Liz. Kidded heralong and wound up by kissing her good-bye. I didn't see none of this; Ijest heard about it later. When I come up and started talkin' jestfriendly with Liz she got sore and passed me the frosty stare. I didn'tthink she could be doin' more than kiddin' me a bit, so I kept right onand it ended up with Liz sayin' that all was over between us."
He paused on his tragedy, set his teeth over a sigh, and went on: "Thefeller ain't no good. I know that from a chap that come to the house afew hours after Bard left. Nash was his name--"
"What!"
"Nash. Feller built husky around the shoulders--looks like a fighter.Know him?"
"Pretty well. D'you say he come to your house right after Bard left it?"
"Yep. Why?"
"How long ago was this?"
"About three days."
"Three days?"
"What's wrong?"
"Nothin'."
"You look like you was goin' to murder some one, lady."
Her laughter ended with a jerk and jar.
"Maybe I am. G'wan! Tell me some more about what Nash said."
"Why, he didn't say much. Hinted around that maybe Bard had walked offwith the piebald hoss he was ridin'."
"That's a lie."
"Lady," said the other a little coldly, "you say that like you was afriend of Bard's."
"Me? There ain't nobody around these parts man enough to say to my facethat I'm a friend of that tenderfoot."
"I'm glad of that. My name's Ralph Boardman."
"I'm Sally Fortune."
"Sure; I've heard of you--a lot. Say, you couldn't tip me off where Icould hit the trail of Bard?"
"Dunno. Wait; lemme see."
She studied, with closed eyes. What she was thinking was that if Nashhad been so close to Bard three days before he was surely on the trailof the tenderfoot and certainly that meeting in her place had not been acasual one. She set her teeth, thinking of the promise Nash had given toher. Undoubtedly he had laughed at it afterward. And now Bard probablylay stretched on his back somewhere among the silent hills looking up tothe pitiless brightness of the sky with eyes which could never shut.
The hollow feeling of which Sally had complained to Bert grew to apositive ache, and the tears stood up closer to her eyes.
"Wait around town," she said in a changed voice. "I think I heard himsay something of riding out, but he'll be back before long. That's theonly tip I can give you, partner."
So she rose and hurried back to the kitchen.
"Bert," she said, "I'm off for the rest of the day. You got to handlethe place."
He panted: "But the heavy rush--it ain't started yet."
"It's started for me."
"What d'you mean?"
"Nothin'. I'm on my way. S'long, Bert. Back in the mornin' bright andearly."
If she could not find Bard at least she could find Nash at the ranch ofDrew, and in that direction she headed her racing horse.
