Part 13 (1/2)
”Oh, no, but the friction of the reins can make even a scratch uncomfortable after a while, and my glove is getting tight. A little peroxide, when we reach a pharmacy, will fix it all right.”
But Miss Armitage watched him doubtfully. She a.s.sured him she was not tired and that she loved to drive. Had she not told him so at the start?
Then, as they left the promontory, her glance followed the road ahead. The bridge was no longer fine as a spider web; it was a railroad crossing of steel, and the long eaves of the Great Northern depot lifted near, flanked by the business blocks of a town. ”Wenatchee!” she exclaimed; and wavering, asked: ”_Isn't_ this Wenatchee?”
”Yes, Miss Armitage, I am afraid that it is. You are back to civilization.
A few minutes more and, if you will give me their address, you will be safe with your friends.”
”I did not say I had any friends in Wenatchee, Mr. Tisdale. I am going on to Hesperides Vale. But please leave me at any quiet hotel. I can't thank you enough for all your kindness and patience,” she went on hurriedly.
”For making this trip possible. All I can hope to do is share the expense.” And she found the inside pocket of her coat and drew out a small silver purse.
Tisdale, driving slowly, divided his attention between his team and the buildings on either side. ”There is a public garage,” he said, ”and a rival establishment opposite. You will have no trouble to finish your trip by automobile, as you planned. It will be pleasant making the run up the valley this evening, when it is cool.”
Miss Armitage opened her purse. ”The rates must be considerably higher on a rough mountain road than on the Seattle boulevard, and, of course, one couldn't expect to hire Nip and Tuck at ordinary rates.”
Tisdale drew in, hesitating, before a hotel, then relaxed the reins. ”The building seems modern, but we may find a quiet little inn up some side street with more shade.”
”I presume you will drive on up the valley,” she said, after a moment, ”and start back to Kitt.i.tas to-morrow. Or will it be necessary to rest the team a day?”
”I shall drive on to that tract of Weatherbee's this afternoon; but I expect to take the westbound train to-night, somewhere up the valley.”
”I see,” she said quickly and tried to cover her dismay, ”you intend to s.h.i.+p the team back to Kitt.i.tas by way of Seattle. I'm afraid”--her voice broke a little, the color flushed pinkly to her forehead, her ears, and her glance fell to the purse in her lap--”but please tell me the charges.”
”Madam,” and the ready humor crinkled the corners of his mouth, ”when I s.h.i.+p these horses back to Lighter, he is going to pay the freight.”
She drew a quick breath of relief, but her purse remained open, and she waited, regarding Tisdale with an expectant, disconcerting side-glance of her half-veiled eyes. ”And the day rates for the use of the team?” she asked.
For a moment he was busy turning the horses. They had reached a second hotel, but it proved less inviting than the first, and the side streets they had crossed afforded no quiet inn, or indeed any dwelling in the shade. ”After all,” he said, ”a room and bath on the north side, with windows looking up the Columbia, should make you fairly comfortable through the heat of the day.” But the girl waited, and when his eyes fell to that open purse, his own color burned through the tan. There was no help for it; she must know the truth. He squared his shoulders, turning a little toward her. ”There are no expenses to share, Miss Armitage. I-- happened to own this team, and since we were traveling the same way, I was glad to offer you this vacant seat.”
”Do you mean you bought these horses--outright--at Kitt.i.tas?”
”Yes, the opportunity was too good to miss.” He tried to brave the astonishment in her eyes, but his glance moved directly to the colts.
”And, you see, if I should buy that tract of Weatherbee's, I am going to need a team.”
”Doubtless,” answered Miss Armitage slowly. ”Still, for breaking wild land or even cultivating, one would choose a steadier, heavier team. But they are beauties, Mr. Tisdale, and I know a man in Seattle who is going to be disappointed. I congratulate you on being able to secure them.” She closed the purse at last and reluctantly put it away, and she added, with the merriment dimpling her lips: ”Fate certainly was with me yesterday.”
They had reached the hotel, and as he drew up to the curb, a man came from the lobby to hold the bays. Several traveling salesmen stood smoking and talking outside the entrance, while a little apart a land promoter and his possible capitalist consulted a blue print; but there was a general pause as Tisdale sprang out, and the curious scrutiny of wayfarers in a small town was focussed on the arrivals.
”It looks all right,” he said quietly, helping her down, ”but if you find anything wrong, or should happen to want me, I shall be at that other hotel until two o'clock. Good-by!”
He saw the surprise in her face change to swift appreciation. Then ”Good-by,” she answered and walked towards the door. But there she stopped.
Tisdale, looking back as he gave her suitcase to a boy, saw her lips part, though she did not speak. Then her eyelids drooped, the color played softly in her face, and she turned to go in. There had been no invitation in her att.i.tude, yet he had felt a certain appeal. It flashed over him she did not want to motor up the valley; she wished to drive on with him. Too proud, too fine to say so, she was letting her opportunity go. He hurried across the pavement.
”Miss Armitage,” he said, and instantly she turned; the sparkles leaped in her eyes; she came towards him a few steps and stopped expectantly. ”If I start up the valley at two”--and he looked at his watch--”that will be a rest of nearly three hours. It means the heat of the day, but if it seems better than motoring over a country road with a public chauffeur, I would be glad to have you drive for me.”
CHAPTER X
A WOMAN'S HEART-STRINGS
”Now I know the meaning of Wenatchee. It's something racy, Mr. Tisdale, and a little wicked, yet with unexpected depths, and just the coolest, limpid hazel-green.”