“Lance, honey! Where on earth have you been?” She set the lamp down on the table and came close, putting her arms around him, her eyes searching the impenetrable calm of his face, the veiled purpose behind his eyes. It was the Lorrigan fighting look; she had seen it once or twice in Tom’s face and it had frightened her. She was 337 frightened now, but her own intrepid soul pushed back her fear.
“Sh-sh, honey,” she whispered, though Lance had neither moved nor spoken since she touched him. “Sh-sh––Mary Hope and her mother are here, and they’re both asleep. I––honey, we were so worried, when you didn’t come back. That note you sent didn’t say a thing, and I was afraid––And I was between the devil and the deep sea, honey. I couldn’t stay away from here, when I didn’t know––and I couldn’t leave Hope there, and the women that came flocking when they heard the news were just cows for brains. And the old lady won’t have a nurse and she wouldn’t let me out of her sight––she keeps me singing about all the time she’s awake, or reciting poetry––Bobbie Burns, mostly, and Scott. Would you ever think she’d stand for Bobbie Burns? But I can do it as Scotch as she can, and she likes it.
“So she wouldn’t let me leave, and I couldn’t stay––and I had Hugh make up a bed in the spring wagon, and brought her over here. If you and Hope are going to be married right away, the old lady will need to be here, anyway. The doctor tried to talk hospital––he just tried. The old lady can write now with her left hand so we can make it out, and when he said hospital to her she––she almost swore.
“So it’s all right, Lance, honey––my God, Lance, what is it? Have you heard from Duke?” 338 She broke down suddenly, and clutched him in a way that reminded him poignantly of that dying man in the canyon. Her whisper became sibilant, terrified. “What is it? What has happened? Lance, tell me! Tom is here, and Al; they were here when we came, to-day––”
Lance took a deep breath. Very gently he leaned and kissed her on the forehead, reached back and pulled her hands away from his shoulders.
“It’s nothing, Belle. I’m––tired. And you––you surprised me. Will it waken them if I––clean up a little before I go to bed? I’ll––be careful.” He forced his eyes, his lips, to smile at her. “Good girl, Belle. I’m––you’re a trump. Now go back to bed. Lance is on the job––Lance won’t leave again like that––he’ll––settle down.”
He sat down on the nearest chair and pulled off his boots. He made an imperative gesture toward her bedroom, and Belle, giving him a strange, searching look, went in and closed the door after her. He gave a sigh of relief when she was gone, never dreaming how little he had imposed upon her.
In his stocking feet he went to the kitchen, found hot water in the teakettle, carried it to his room and shaved, cleansing his body as well as he could from the dust of the trip without making any sound that might disturb the sleeping invalid and Mary Hope. He dressed himself carefully as though he were 339 going to meet guests. The set look was still in his face when he stood before the dresser mirror, knotting the blue tie that harmonized best with the shirt he wore. He pulled the tan leather belt straight, so that the plain silver buckle was in the middle, took something off the bed and pushed it carefully inside the waistband of his trousers, on the left side, taking great care that its position was right to the fraction of an inch. He took his tan Oxford shoes in his hand, pulled open his door as quietly as any burglar could have done, stepped down upon the ground and put on the shoes, lacing them carefully, tucking in the bow ends fastidiously.
Then, moving very softly, he went down the path to the bunk-house, opened the door and walked in, never dreaming that Belle was no more than a dozen steps behind him, or that, when he closed the door, she was standing just outside, listening.
The blood of his actress mother carried him insouciantly over the pregnant silence that received him. He leaned negligently against the wall beside the closed door, his arms folded, his eyebrows tilted upward at the inner ends, his lips smiling quizzically.