“Good sakes!” she cried. “How you scared me!” Then, realizing what lay before her, she grabbed up her work, and was for returning it to the cupboard.
But Wild Bill was in a hurry. Besides, he had nothing of the ingratiating ways of the other men about him. He saw her object, and stayed her in his own peculiar authoritative fashion.
“Say, you can quit huggin’ them fixin’s,” he cried. “I ain’t come pryin’ around a leddy’s wardrobe. You ken jest set down with paper an’ ink an’ things, an’ write down how best Zip’s kids can be raised. I’ll git right back for it in ha’f-an-hour.”
Nor did he wait for any reply. It was taken for granted that his demands would be promptly acceded to, and he vanished as abruptly as he came. The swing-door closed, and Birdie gave a sigh.
“An’ him, too,” she murmured. “Well, I do declare. It just licks creation.”
But this was a different proposition to either Toby or Sandy. She sprang to her task for the great Wild Bill in a way that spoke volumes for her sentimental heart. Wild Bill? Well, she would never have owned it, but there was just one man in the world that scared Birdie to death, and at the same time made her think her path was a bed of roses, and that was Wild Bill. In an astonishingly short time she was sitting at the table poring over a writing-pad, and biting the already well-chewed end of a pen.
Outside, in the smoke-laden atmosphere of the store, amidst the busy click of poker chips and clink of glasses, Wild Bill was talking earnestly to Minky, who was standing behind the counter.
They had been talking for some time. Minky’s eyes frequently wandered in the direction of a table where four strangers were playing. But no one could have guessed, in his quiet scrutiny, the anxiety that lay behind it.
“You must git out to-night?” he inquired of his hawk-visaged friend.