Читать книгу The Hermit of Gordon's Creek - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 4

Table of Contents

“Hal, it’s deplorable that a level-headed looking boy like you should fall for such trash,” said Denis Keen whimsically. He stretched his long legs out to the veranda railing, then sat forward in his chair. “Lee’s built a sort of fiction out of what little is known of the old man. It’s just the sort of romance that a sixteen year old girl of her type loves. But go on up if it gives you pleasure.”

“Denis, he’s a chip of the old block,” said Mr. Holliday from a big willow chair nearby, “or a chip of the old uncle, eh? You got in the Department of Justice from just such a start—snooping and scenting mysteries.”

“Yes, but I snooped and scented real mysteries, Richard,” said Mr. Keen with a sly wink at his host. “But . . .”

“All right, Unk,” said Hal good-naturedly, “don’t rub it in. If I’m going to be fooled, all right. I’ll kind of like talking to Mr. Winters anyway—mystery or no mystery.”

“It’s too bad you promised Lee that you’d go with her then,” said Mr. Holliday. “You could have just as well gone along with Kip and Pedro—they’re going past that way to look over the dam up the creek. I reckon they’re taking a few goodies to slip in the old man’s place. Here they come now—up from the corral.”

“Dam giving you any trouble, Richard?” Denis Keen asked his friend.

“The old man told Kip the other day when he was by that it was cracked clear through on one side,” Mr. Holliday answered. “I’d worry about it if it came a rainy spell. There’s a powerful force o’ water emptying into that creek.”

Hal watched the two horsemen as they came cantering up from the corral. Kip was smiling, but Pedro, in strong contrast, scowled fiercely, his dark, swarthy skin and piercing black eyes accentuating this ominous expression.

“Pedro’s not as dangerous as he looks,” said Mr. Holliday, reading Hal’s thoughts. “He’s part Indian and part Spanish, I guess—he’s never said what he really was. But he’s a darned good mechanic and pilot too. Can do almost anything. Both fellows can—don’t know what I’d do without ’em. That’s why I let them have it pretty much their own way around here. They keep the cowboys in hand, stock—everything.”

“Did they take one of the planes out last night, Richard?” asked Denis Keen. “I was certain I heard one land in your hangar back there during the night.”

“Guess you did,” answered the ranch owner. “Kip goes down to the city almost every night. He’s a movie fiend. Pedro has a girl, from what I can understand. They leave the plane at the airport.”

Hal was interested. “Got an airport out in this neck of the woods too, huh?” he asked smilingly.

“Gordon Field,” said the ranch owner, with true civic pride. “Do you think you easterners are the only ones to have fine airports?”

“It’s too early for arguments,” came Lee’s voice from the doorway. “Breakfast is about ready and there’s someone calling you on the phone, Papa. Don’t be long—we’ll wait for you.”

Mr. Holliday left the veranda hurriedly while Lee stepped out, flushed and fresh as the early morning. Her short hair was almost the color of her khaki riding habit and it tumbled down over one tanned check as she nodded a greeting to the arriving horsemen.

“Are you taking anything along for Mr. Winters?” she inquired perfunctorily of Kip, who was reining his horse in under the veranda.

Kip’s smile deepened. “Sure, we are. Cook said it was yore father’s orders. Well, we’ve got it here, all right,” he said, patting the saddle bags. “Want to send anything yoreself, Miss Lee?”

“No, thanks,” she said tersely. “Mr. Hal and I are going to ride up that way today and I just wanted to know.”

Kip chuckled. “So,” he said, blinking his closely set eyes upon Hal, “yore still set on seein’ the old bird, eh?”

“Sure, I am,” Hal answered determinedly. “And I bet I’ll find out whether or not he’s just a lazy hobo or something else.”

Kip laughed outright. “Don’t bet on thet too much, kid,” said he. “I’ve known thet old bird for a good many years now an’ he ain’t told me any sad story, so why should he tell you?”

“Why stand argu’n’ ’bout it,” snapped Pedro between his shining teeth. “Let him go and find out about it.”

The little fellow, having had his say, settled abruptly behind his scowl. Hal couldn’t make him out at all and after a few seconds of frank scrutiny decided that Pedro had a way of making one feel decidedly uneasy. Certainly he would prefer Kip’s disarming smile any time.

Mr. Holliday joined them at this juncture. “Bad news from the field, folks,” he said, clasping and unclasping his big, generous hands. And then directly addressing Kip and Pedro, he said: “Collins and his mail plane haven’t been heard from since he left the field on his regular run last night. We had a low-lying fog most of the night—remember?”

“Jest guess I do,” said Kip, interested. “No word that any one has seed him either, huh?”

“None,” said the ranch owner. “Did you boys see him before he took off last night?”

“I did,” said Pedro gruffly. “Plane was fine—he was fine too.”

“Too bad,” Mr. Holliday murmured sincerely. “Collins was one of the nicest boys over at the field.”

“Yep,” said Kip, with a hint of shadow playing over his smiling lips, “but thet’s the lot of the airman.”

The two horsemen drew rein and after a moment were galloping off toward the green foothills of the Rockies. The little group on the veranda stood watching their departure for a few moments until a sudden declivity in the rolling hills hid them temporarily from view.

“That Pedro chap is a grouch, Richard,” said Denis Keen. “Speaks very good English though, eh?”

“I believe he’s spent most of his time in the East,” said the ranch owner, gazing at the thin veil of dust that the riders had left behind. “Yes, Pedro’s not as pleasant as he might be, but then his health’s not the best. The war left him pretty well shattered—he got it far worse than Kip, I guess. And that’s not saying much, for their hospital reports weren’t so encouraging. Still they’ve picked up wonderfully in the years they’ve been out here with me. Kip seems to be able to stand pretty long flights and Pedro does better than he used to. Well, come on in to breakfast, folks—Cook will be mad as a hatter trying to keep things hot all this time.”

Hal lingered for a second after the rest had entered the house, looking off toward a trail that wound in and out among the pine trees. He could see the riders quite distinctly now for they had taken the trail and were climbing steadily. A keen pang of regret accompanied this observation for he was quite attracted to Kip and his warm smile.

“Here I’ll have a girl tied to me all day—maybe all summer,” said he, disgusted. “She’s all right as girls go, but dang it all, a fellow hasn’t the chance to ride every day of his life with an ex-aviator and war hero. I bet he could tell me things, all right—all right. And there’s that poor Collins fellow now—I could see Kip felt bad about that, too—we could have talked about that. Dang it—it’s just my luck!”

Hal ran his strong fingers through his flaming hair. He could just about make out the figures of the two riders now for they were all but hidden by the trees. The shadows of early morning still held the western slope in their grip and he found some comfort in the knowledge that when he and Lee started out the sun would have put those shadows to rout.

Perhaps Hal was just a trifle superstitious. Be that as it may, he loathed shadow of any kind, particularly the gloom upon which he was now gazing. He shuddered instinctively, even while he laughed at his own fears.