"Dilly's about the most thorough-minded man I ever met up with,"
he mused, half annoyed, stopping a moment to survey critically the
barrier. "Yuh never find a job uh hisn left with any loose ends
a-dangling. He's got a fence here like he was guarding a railroad
right-uh-way. I guess I'll go round, this trip."
At the ranch Charming Billy took the path that led to the kitchen,
because when he glanced that way from the stable he caught a flicker
of pink--a shade of pink which he liked very much, because Flora had
a dress of that color and it matched her cheeks, it seemed to him. She
had evidently not seen him, and he thought he would surprise her. To
that end, he suddenly stopped midway and removed his spurs lest their
clanking betray him. So he went on, with his eyes alight and the blood
of him jumping queerly.
Just outside the door he stopped, saw the pink flutter in the pantry
and went across the kitchen on his toes; sure, he was going to
surprise her a lot! Maybe, he thought daringly, he'd kiss her--if his
nerve stayed with him long enough. He rather thought it would. She was
stooping a little over the flour barrel, and her back was toward him.
More daring than he would have believed of himself, he reached out his
arms and caught her to him, and--It was not Flora at all. It was Mama
Joy.
"Oh, I--I beg your pardon--I--" stammered Billy helplessly.
"Billy! You're a bad boy; how you frightened me!" she gasped, and
showed an unmistakable inclination to snuggle.
Charming Billy, looking far more frightened than she, pulled himself
loose and backed away. Mama Joy looked at him, and there was that in
her eyes which sent a qualm of something very like disgust over Billy,
so that in his toes he felt the quiver.
"It was an accident, Mrs. Bridger," he said laconically, and went out
hastily, leaving her standing there staring after him.
Outside, he twitched his shoulders as if he would still free himself
of something distasteful. "Hell! What do I want with _her_?" he
muttered indignantly, and did not stop to think where he was going
until he brought up at the stable. He had the reins of Barney in his
hand, and had put his foot in the stirrup before he quite came to
himself. "Hell!" he exploded again, and led Barney back into the
stall.
Charming Billy sat down on a box and began to build a smoke; his
fingers shook a great deal, so that he sifted out twice as much
tobacco as he needed. He felt utterly bewildered and ashamed and
sorry, and he could not think very clearly. He lighted the cigarette,
smoked it steadily, pinched out the stub and rolled another before he
came back to anything like calm.
Even when he could bring himself to face what had happened and what it
meant, he winced mentally away from the subject. He could still feel
the clinging pressure of her round, bare arms against his neck, and
he once more gave his shoulders a twitch. Three cigarettes he smoked,
staring at a warped board in the stall partition opposite him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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