Part 57 (2/2)
On the contrary, he answered, sadly: ”No, I do not feel like eating, but I will go down with you. Perhaps I shall feel better for it.”
The dining-room was filled with boarders, and all betrayed the keenest interest in Kauffman. It was evident also that the ranger's punishment of Kitsong was widely known, for several spoke of it, and Simpson warningly said:
”Abe intends to have your hide. He's going to slap a warrant on you as soon as you're out of Carmody's hands and have you sent down the line for a.s.sault with intent to kill.”
All this talk increased Kauffman's uneasiness, and on the way over to the jail he again apologized for the trouble they had brought upon him.
”Don't say a word of last night's row to Helen,” warned Hanscom. ”Throop promised to keep it from her, and don't consider Kitsong; he can't touch me till after Carmody is through with me.”
The deputy who let them in said that the sheriff was at breakfast--a fact which was made evident by the savory smell of sausages which pervaded the entire hall, and a moment later, Throop, hearing their voices, came to the dining-room door, napkin in hand. ”Come in,” he called. ”Come in an have a hot cake.”
”Thank you, we've had our breakfast,” Hanscom replied.
”Oh, well, you can stand a cup of coffee, anyway, and Miss Helen wants to see you.”
The wish to see Helen brought instant change to the ranger's plan.
Putting down his hat, he followed Kauffman into the pleasant sunlit breakfast-room with a swiftly pounding heart.
Helen, smiling cheerily, rose to meet her stepfather with a lovely air of concern. ”Dear old daddy, how do you feel this morning?”
”Very well indeed,” he bravely falsified.
She turned to Hanscom with outstretched hand. ”Isn't it glorious this morning!” she exclaimed, rather than asked.
The sheriff, like the good boomer that he was, interrupted the ranger's reply. ”Oh, we have plenty of mornings like this.”
She protested. ”Please don't say that! I want to consider this morning especially fine. I want it to bring us all good luck.”
Evidently Throop had kept his promise to Hanscom, for Helen said nothing of the battle of the night before, and with sudden flare of confidence the ranger said:
”You're right. This is a wonderful morning, and I believe this trial is coming out right, but just to be prepared for anything that comes, I think I'd better get a lawyer to represent you. I don't feel able properly to defend your interests.”
”But you must be there,” she quickly answered. ”You are the one sure friend in all this land.”
His sensitive face flushed with pleasure, for beneath the frank expression of her friends.h.i.+p he perceived a deeper note than she had hitherto expressed, and yet he was less sure of her than ever, for in ways not easily defined by one as simple as he she had contrived to accent overnight the alien urban character of her training. She no longer even remotely suggested the hermit he had once supposed her to be. A gown of graceful lines, a different way of dressing her hair, had effected an almost miraculous change in her appearance. She became from moment to moment less of the mountaineer and more of the city dweller, and, realizing this, the trailer's admiration was tinged with something very like despair. He was not a dullard; he divined that these outer signs of change implied corresponding mental reversals. Her att.i.tude toward the mountains, toward life, had altered.
”She is turning away from my world back to the world from which she came,” was his vaguely defined conclusion.
Meanwhile the sheriff was saying: ”Well, now, Carmody opens court in the town-hall at ten this morning, and, Hans, you are to be on hand early.
I'll bring Miss McLaren up in the car about a quarter to ten and have her in the doctor's office, which is only a few doors away.”
”How is the Cuneo girl?” asked Hanscom.
”She seems rested and fairly chipper, but I can see she's going to be a bad witness.”
Helen's face clouded. ”Poor girl! I feel sorry for her.”
Mrs. Throop was less sympathetic. ”She certainly has made a mess of it.
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