Why should he fret over agang of law-breakers? Unless it was that cow-town cutie, that Martha.Unless he was so dame-happy he'd sell out the Department. That corrupthe certainly wasn't--at least, not yet.
And they weren't readers anyway--they were publishers. He had almostforgotten that. Inciters to violence, instigators of strife, pollutersof the mind ... Good Lord, he was beginning to sound likecrack-brained ex-Senator Arnold!
V
Mrs. Klein was shaking out a rug on the front porch. She smiled athim. "Not much to do here, for a city man, is there?"
"I'm not bored," he said, "for some reason. You have a beautifuldaughter, Mrs. Klein."
"I'd feel happier about her looks if she'd marry somebody," Mrs. Kleinsaid dryly. "Seems to me they're wasted this way."
Doak sat on the glider. What was it someone had said about marriage?Oh, yes--that it combined the ultimate in temptation with the ultimatein opportunity.
He said, "I'm surprised she isn't married. The men around here must beblind or mute."
"Oh, she's had enough offers," Mrs. Klein answered. She laid the rugover the porch railing. "But she's a fussy stubborn girl." She sat inher chair. "You a married man, Mr. Parker?"
He shook his head. "Never had the time nor the money--and besides theyall said no to me."
"I'll bet. With that hair of yours and that fine head, with thoseeyes, I'll _bet_ they said no."
"Why, thank you!" Doak said. "You have a number of good points,yourself, Mrs. Klein."
"My popovers and my coffee, maybe," she agreed. "And my figure wasn'tbad, a decade or two back. But I never had Martha's looks. That's fromher dad's side of the family."
"Handsome, were they?"
"Oh, yes. High falutin' people, scholars and beauties who owned halfthe land in the county, at one time. Old Wisconsin Germans. I'm Irishmyself."
Bright scintillating dialogue, stirring the quick response. But hefelt as relaxed as though he had hay in his hair. He looked out at thedeserted road, at the fields beyond, at the clouds on the clearhorizon. Rural summer--a quiet Saturday morning in the agriculturalMidwest only nineteen minutes from Chicago.
People spoke of other worlds and here was one, nineteen minutes fromChicago. And last night, under the lucidate, the town banker had goneto another world, three hundred years away, had gone back to the magicof Burns.
A great lad for the ladies, Bobbie Burns, and a great love for thepeople. A poet with revolutionary leanings, all heart, a bleeder and abeliever. Studious, Doak sat, on the front porch in another world.
Were the people so stupid they couldn't be trusted with words? Theycould be misled with words and confused and stirred to unrighteousanger. And informed with words and guided and ennobled and solaced andstirred to high destiny.
How had wrestling ever taken the place of words?
Someone said, "Dreaming, city-man?"
He looked up quickly to see Martha standing there. Mrs. Klein hadevidently gone into the house without his being aware of it.
"Dreaming," Doak admitted. "Holding high converse with the mightydead." He smiled at her. "Through for the week?"
"Through." She took the chair her mother usually occupied. "Five and ahalf days of whereas and wherefore earns me a day and a half formyself. At the risk of seeming forward would you like to go swimmingwith me this afternoon?"
"I can't think of a better way to spend it," Doak answered. "How abouttransportation?"
"It's only a little over a mile. We can walk." She paused. "Or did youplan to see Senator Arnold?"
"I'd rather go swimming," Doak said.
Which they did. In the waters of Lake Memahbin, in the small cove thatharbored the entire recreational facilities of Dubbinville. Doakrented some trunks there and they swam out to the raft.
There weren't too many adults in the water this afternoon but the kidswere everywhere. Noisy splashing running kids--but very few of themventured out to the big raft.
There was a park running the length of the beach and a variety ofgames--table tennis, horse-shoes, shuffleboard. There was a smallgroup around the table in the grove who seemed to be just sitting.
Doak saw the beard and the lady who had quoted the unknown poet, lastnight. He and Martha lay on their stomachs on the raft, looking backtoward the shore.
Doak said easily, "That gang in the glade doesn't seem to be havingmuch fun."
"Solid citizens," Martha said. "That lady is the principal of the highschool and the man with the beard is president of the bank. Youcouldn't expect them to run and shout, could you?"
Doak said nothing.
She turned over on her side to look at him. "Any luck with theSenator?"
"Not much so far. I'll get him, before Monday, though."
She stood up and he felt a stirring in him at the sight of her tautfully-feminine figure. She poised on the edge of the raft and then hertanned body went slanting toward the water.
She came up directly beneath him and splashed a handful of water intohis face. "Sun worshipper," she mocked. "The trip out do you in?"
He made a face at her and she went under.
He looked over at the group in the glade. High school principal,custodian of young minds--and a reader. Worse than that, a partner ina publishing venture.
Corruption? What kind of mind would it take to believe there wascorruption in that group? A Senator Arnold kind of mind. Rebellion,yes. Oh, very definitely rebellion--under the Arnold Law.
But how could--
Somebody had his feet and he was being pulled head over toes into thewaiting water. He came up spluttering to see Martha laughing at himfrom the edge of the raft.
He started to climb up and she dove off the further side. He wentafter her. Much laughter and great sport. An excuse to grab her, hereand there, to feel the firm, warm smoothness of her, to quicken to thechallenge of her body.
In the glade the watchers sat, missing nothing.
Doak said, "I'm not sure the solid citizens approve of your maidenlyfrolicking. They seem to be frowning our way."
"Studious types," Martha said, "but not necessarily disapproving."
Doak was silent, staring at the water.
"Bored?" Her voice was light.
He looked up. "I've never been less bored. Martha, I...." He shook hishead in vexation.
"It's a little early for a pitch," she said, "though you do give it awarming amateur earnestness. Or wasn't it going to be a pitch?"
He looked at her steadily. "What else?"
"A warning maybe?" a break in the light tone.
"What kind of warning?"
It was her turn to look at the water--and to color? It seemed so,faintly, under the tan. She said, "To warn me that you're married orpoor or uninterested." She looked up, smiling. "I'm such a simplecountry girl."
"Yes," he said. "Sure." He looked over at the watchers. "Are theyfriends of yours?"
"Yes." Her eyes wide and searching, her face and body taut. "Why?"
"Wondered. Am I being played for a patsy?"
Silence while she studied him. Silence while the raft gently rocked,and the world. "Patsy?" she asked.
"Forget it. You have a great charm and an unholy animal attraction forme, Martha Klein, and maybe we'd better get back to shore and have aquiet cigarette."
They had a cigarette and a hot dog with a skin on it, the first Doakhad ever seen. They had grape pop and a few laughs. Fun in the sun atDubbinville, U.S.A. Wouldn't the gang at home get a belt out of this?And where was June's bright metallic laughter being heard this goldenafternoon?
They walked back to town quietly, exertion-spent, sun-calmed. Theycame up onto the porch, and Mrs. Klein looked from Martha's face toDoak's and frowned--and sighed.
"Fun?" she asked.
"Wonderful," Doak said. "And Martha surprised me by being able toswim. None of my other girls can swim a lick."
"Martha's no girl," Mrs. Klein said. "She's twenty-seven."
Martha laughed. "Why, mother, you'll never get rid of me that way."
"Well, maybe he is sold. Wonder how he knew I was here."
"There isn't much he doesn't know about what's going on in town,"Mrs. Klein said. "I'd wager there isn't _anything_." She looked atMartha as she said that last.
Martha's face was blank.
"Maybe I can put it off until tomorrow," Doak said. "It's been apretty good day up to
The Mighty Dead Page 4
