What did she know about him? What manner of man had she married? The consequences of the step they had taken began to appall her. She would have to live with him in all the intimacies of married life, cook for him, wash his clothes, sit opposite him at the table three times a day for fifty years. He was to be the father of her children, and she knew nothing whatever about him except that he was gentle and friendly.
From under long curving lashes she stole a shy look at him. He was her husband, this stranger. Would she be able to please him? June thought of what Blister Haines had said. She was a pretty good cook. That was one thing. And she would try not to let herself sulk or be a spitfire. Maybe he would not get tired of her if she worked real hard to suit him.
The hotel was an adobe building. In the doorway stood a woman leaning against the jamb. She was smoking a cigar. June looked twice at her before she believed her eyes.
The woman took the cigar from between her lips. “Are you the children Blister Haines just married?” she asked bluntly.
“We—we’ve just been married by Mr. Haines,” Bob replied with an attempt at dignity.
The blue eyes of the woman softened as she looked at June—softened indescribably. They read instantly the doubt and loneliness of the child. She threw the cigar into the street and moved swiftly toward the bride. A moment before she had been hard and sexless, in June’s virgin eyes almost a monstrosity. Now she was all mother, filled with the protective instinct.
“I’m Mollie Gillespie—keep the hotel here,” she explained. “You come right in an’ I’ll fix up a nice room for you, my dearie. You can wash up after yore ride and you’ll feel a lot better. I’ll have Chung Lung cook you both a bit of supper soon as he comes back to the kitchen. A good steak an’ some nice French frys, say. With some of the mince pie left from dinner and a good cup of coffee.” Mollie’s arm was round June, petting and comforting her.
June felt and repressed an impulse to tears. “You’re mighty good,” she gulped.
The landlady of the Bear Cat House bustled the girl into a room and began to mother her. Bob hung around the door. He did not know whether he was expected to come in or stay out, though he knew which he wanted to do.
Mollie sent him about his business. “Scat!” she snapped. “Get outa here, Mr. Husband, an’ don’t you show up till five o’clock prompt. Hear me?”