Innes was telling Tom of the tragedy of the afternoon.
“Oh, don’t,” cried Gerty, pushing away her plate. “I can’t hear of such things.” They saw that her pretty eyes were full of tears. “You know I can’t.”
CHAPTER XXVI
THE WHITE OLEANDER
MRS. Hardin’s descent on the office that afternoon was successful, but not satisfactory. She had found the manager brief to curtness. She was given no excuse to linger. She traced Rickard’s manner to the presence of MacLean, and snatched at her cue. She, too, could be businesslike and brief. Her errand was of business; her manner should recommend her!
Rickard had seen her making straight toward the ramada. It was not the first time; her efforts to line her nest had involved them all and often. But to-day, he was in a bad humor.
“For the lord’s sake,” he groaned to MacLean as she approached. “More shelves! I wonder if she thinks the carpenters have nothing to do but rig up her kitchen for her?”
MacLean’s grin covered relief. He had never heard Rickard express himself on the subject before. Could he believe, he speculated, that her frequent appeals for assistance were serious? “The dead-set Hardin’s wife was making at Casey,” was the choice gossip and speculation of the young engineers on the Delta.
MacLean had a bet up on the outcome. He grinned more securely.
“I am not going to spare any more carpenters,” growled Rickard. It was an inauspicious day for Mrs. Hardin’s visit. Things had gone wrong. Vexations were piling up. A tilt with Hardin that morning, a telegram from Marshall; he was feeling sore. Porter’s men had marched out, carrying their dead. Desperately they needed labor. Wooster had just reported, venomously, it appeared to Rickard’s spleen, increasing drunkenness among the Indians.
Gerty’s ruffles swept in. Her dress, the blue mull with the lace medallions, accented the hue of her eyes, and looked deliciously cool that glaring desert day. Her parasol, of pongee, was lined with the same baby hue. Her dainty fairness and childish affability should have made an oasis in that strenuous day, but Rickard’s disintegration of temper was too complete. He rose stiffly to meet her, and his manner demanded her errand.