CHAPTER XVII
JOHNNIE MAKES A JOKE
As Kitty stepped from the cab she was trembling violently.
"Don't you be frightened, li'l' pardner. You've come home. Therewon't anybody hurt you here."
The soft drawl of Clay's voice carried inexpressible comfort. So toodid the pressure of his strong hand on her arm. She knew not only thathe was a man to trust, but that so far as could be he would take hertroubles on his broad shoulders. Tears brimmed over her soft eyes.
The Arizonan ran her up to his floor in the automatic elevator.
"I've got a friend from home stayin' with me. He's the best-heartedfellow you ever saw. You'll sure like him," he told her without stressas he fitted his key to the lock.
He felt her shrink beneath his coat, but it was too late to draw backnow. In another moment Lindsay was introducing her casually to theembarrassed and astonished joint proprietor of the apartment.
The Runt was coatless and in his stockinged-feet. He had been playinga doleful ditty on a mouth-organ. Caught so unexpectedly, he blushed abeautiful brick red to his neck.
Johnnie ducked his head and scraped the carpet with his foot in anattempt at a bow. "Glad to meet up with you-all, Miss. Hope you'refeelin' tol'able."
Clay slipped the coat from her shoulders and saw that the girl was wetto the skin.
"Heat some water, Johnnie, and make a good stiff toddy. Miss Kitty hasbeen out in the rain."
He lit the gas-log and from his bedroom brought towels, a bathrobe,pajamas, a sweater, and woolen slippers. On a lounge before the firehe dumped the clothes he had gathered. He drew up the easiest armchairin the room.
"I'm goin' to the kitchen to jack up Johnnie so he won't lay down onhis job," he told her cheerily. "You take yore time and get into thesedry clothes. We'll not disturb you till you knock. After that we'llfeed you some chuck. You want to brag on Johnnie's cookin'. He thinkshe's it when it comes to monkeyin' 'round a stove."
When her timid knock came her host brought in a steaming cup. "Youdrink this. It'll warm you good."
"What is it?" she asked shyly.
"Medicine," he smiled. "Doctor's orders."
While she sipped the toddy Johnnie brought from the kitchen a tray uponwhich were tea, fried potatoes, ham, eggs, and buttered toast.
The girl ate ravenously. It was an easy guess that she had not beforetasted food that day.
Clay kept up a flow of talk, mostly about Johnnie's culinary triumphs.Meanwhile he made up a bed on the couch.
Once she looked up at him, her throat swollen with emotion. "You'regood."
"Sho! We been needin' a li'l' sister to brace up our manners for us.It's lucky for us I found you. Now I expect you're tired and sleepy.We fixed up yore bed in here because it's warmer. You'll be able tomake out with it all right. The springs are good." Clay left her witha cheerful smile. "Turn out the light before you go to bed, MissColorado. Sleep tight. And don't you worry. You're back with oldhome folks again now, you know."
They heard her moving about for a time. Presently came silence. Tiredout from tramping the streets with out food and drowsy from the toddyshe had taken, Kitty fell into deep sleep undisturbed by troubleddreams.
The cattleman knew he had found her in the nick of time. She had toldhim that she had no money, no room in which to sleep, no prospect ofwork. Everything she had except the clothes on her back had beenpawned to buy food and lodgings. But she was young and resilient.When she got back home to the country where she belonged, time wouldobliterate from her mind the experiences of which she had been thevictim.
It was past midday when Kitty woke. She heard a tuneless voice in thekitchen lifted up in a doleful song:
"There's hard times on old Bitter Creek That never can be beat. It was root hog or die Under every wagon sheet. We cleared up all the Indians, Drank all the alkali, And it's whack the cattle on, boys-- Root hog or die."
Kitty found her clothes dry. After she dressed she opened the doorthat led to the kitchen. Johnnie was near the end of another stanza ofhis sad song:
"Oh, I'm goin' home Bull-whackin' for to spurn; I ain't got a nickel, And I don't give a dern. 'T is when I meet a pretty girl, You bet I will or try, I'll make her my little wife-- Root hog--"
He broke off embarrassed. "Did I wake you-all, ma'am, with my foolsingin'? I'm right sorry if I did."
"You didn't." Kitty, clinging shyly to the side of the doorway, triedto gain confidence from his unease. "I was already awake. Is it arange song you were singing?"
"Yes'm. Cattle range, not kitchen range."
A wan little smile greeted his joke. The effect on Johnnie himself wasmore pronounced. It gave him confidence in his ability to meet thesituation. He had not known before that he was a wit and the discoveryof it tickled his self-esteem.
"'Course we didn't really clean up no Indians nor drink all the alkali.Tha's jes' in the song, as you might say." He began to bustle about inpreparation for her breakfast.
"Please don't trouble. I'll eat what you've got cooked," she begged.
"It's no trouble, ma'am. If the's a thing on earth I enjoy doin' it'ssure cookin'. Do you like yore aigs sunny side up or turned?"
"Either way. Whichever you like, Mr. Green."
"You're eatin' them," Johnnie reminded her with a grin.
"On one side, then, please. Mr. Lindsay says you're a fine cook."
"Sho! I'm no great shakes. Clay he jes' brags on me."
"Lemme eat here in the kitchen. Then you won't have to set the tablein the other room," she said.
The puncher's instinct was to make a spread on the dining-table forher, but it came to him with a flash of insight that it would be wiseto let her eat in the kitchen. She would feel more as though shebelonged and was not a guest of an hour.
While she ate he waited on her solicitously. Inside, he was a river oftears for her, but with it went a good deal of awe. Even now, wan-eyedand hollow-cheeked, she was attractive. In Johnnie's lonesome life hehad never before felt so close to a girl as he did to this one.Moreover, for the first time he felt master of the situation. It washis business to put their guest at her ease. That was what Clay hadtold him to do before he left.
"You're the doctor, ma'am. You'll eat where you say."
"I--I don't like to be so much bother to you," she said again. "MaybeI can go away this afternoon."
"No, ma'am, we won't have that a-tall," broke in the range-rider inalarm. "We're plumb tickled to have you here. Clay he feels thatawaytoo."
"I could keep house for you while I stay," she suggested timidly. "Iknow how to cook--and the place does need cleaning."
"Sure it does. Say, wha's the matter with you bein' Clay's sister,jes' got in last night on the train? Tha's the story we'll put up tothe landlord if you'll gimme the word."
"I never had a brother, but if I'd had one I'd 'a' wanted him to belike Mr. Lindsay," she told his friend.
"Say, ain't he a go-getter?" cried Johnnie eagerly. "Clay's sure onestraight-up son-of-a-gun. You'd ought to 'a' seen how he busted NewYork open to find you."
"Did he?"
Johnnie told the story of the search with special emphasis on the nightClay broke into three houses in answer to her advertisement.
"I never wrote it. I never thought of that. It must have been--"
"It was that scalawag Durand, y'betcha. I ain't still wearin' mypinfeathers none. Tha's who it was. I'm not liable to forget him. Heknocked me hell-west and silly whilst I wasn't lookin'. He was sorebecause Clay had fixed his clock proper."
"So you've fought on account of me too. I'm sorry." There was alittle break in her voice. "I s'pose you hate me for--for bein' theway I am. I know I hate myself." She choked on the food she waseating.
Johnnie, much distressed, put down the coffee-pot and fluttered near."Don't you take on, ma'am. I wisht I could tell you how pleased we-allare to he'p you. I hope you'll stay with
us right along. I sure do.You'd be right welcome," he concluded bashfully.
"I've got no place to go, except back home--and I've got no folks therebut a second cousin. She doesn't want me. I don't know what to do.If I had a woman friend--some one to tell me what was best--"
Johnnie slapped his hand on his knee, struck by a sudden inspiration."Say! Y'betcha, by jollies, I've got 'er--the very one! You'redamn--you're sure whistlin'. We got a lady friend, Clay and me, thefinest little pilgrim in New York. She's sure there when the gongstrikes. You'd love her. I'll fix it for you--right away. I got togo to her house this afternoon an' do some chores. I'll bet she comesright over to see you."
Kitty was doubtful. She did not want to take any strange young womeninto her confidence until she had seen them. More than one goodPharisee had burned her face with a look of scornful contempt in thepast weeks.
"Maybe we better wait and speak to Mr. Lindsay about it," she said.
"No, ma'am, you don't know Miss Beatrice. She's the best friend." Hepassed her the eggs and a confidence at the same time. "Why, Ishouldn't wonder but what she and Clay might get married one o' thesedays. He thinks a lot of her."
"Oh." Kitty knew just a little more of human nature than the puncher."Then I wouldn't tell her about me if I was you. She wouldn't like mybein' here."
"Sho! You don't know Miss Beatrice. She grades 'way up. I'll bet shelikes you fine."
When Johnnie left to go to work that afternoon he took with him aresolution to lay the whole case before Beatrice Whitford. She wouldfix things all right. No need for anybody to worry after she took ahand and began to run things. If there was one person on earth Johnniecould bank on without fail it was his little boss.
The Big-Town Round-Up Page 18
