“Half or three-quarters of a mile.”
She turned abruptly. “I’m going back to the car. To hell with it.”
“All right, take the cab back to town. I have a car that’s good enough to get me where I want to go. I’ll run back to the hospital as soon as I’m satisfied everything’s all right.”
Bertha turned without a word, started back to the cab. I had covered about fifty yards before I saw the lights flash on again oh the cab. I swung to one side of the road as the cab swept into a turn, waited until the red taillight had become a ruby blot in the distance, and then started trudging along the pavement.
The streak of light in the east became more noticeable. There was enough light now to see objects as black blotches against a grayish background. Ahead of me I could see the gasoline station with the little house behind it, and then a hundred yards back from the road, the cabin. I slid into the shadows and waited.
The light in the east was growing stronger. A watcher concealed in the shadows could have seen me approaching along the road — not plainly enough to recognize me, but still I’d been too visible. It was cold. The air was as still as the reflection in a placid mountain lake. I could feel the tips of my ears tingling with the cold. My nose felt cold. I wanted to stamp my feet, yet dared not move. The sound of a car on the highway — remarkable how far you can hear a car snarling along the pavement. I tingled with anticipation. This would be my man. Now that I was here, I wondered just what would happen. Suppose Louie had been drinking again? Suppose the man who was coming had a gun and didn’t waste time in argument? Suppose— The car swung around the corner. The headlights gleamed along the road. It didn’t even slow down, but swept on past and into the distance. The sound of the car diminished into the frosty silence.
I pushed my hands under my armpits and hugged them. I was shivering now, and my teeth were chattering. My feet felt like chunks of ice. No other cars, no sound, just that still cold.
I looked at my watch. By holding the face toward the east I could see the time plainly. It would be three-quarters of an hour before the sun would shed any warmth. I simply couldn’t stand that cold any more. I hadn’t realized how the dry air of the desert will suck the warmth right out through your clothes.
I didn’t want to waken the girl. I tiptoed around to the other window, and called, in a low, cautious voice, “Oh, Louie! Hello, Louie!”
There was no sound.