The Seventh Man, Page 3

  Chapter III. Battle

  On the road he passed Miss Brewster--for the Alder school boasted twoteachers!--and under her kindly, rather faded smile he felt a greatdesire to stop and take her into his confidence; ask her what Betty Nealhad been doing all these months. Instead, he touched Grey Molly with thespurs, and she answered like a watch-spring uncurling beneath him. Therush of wind against his face raised his spirits to a singing pitch, andwhen he flung from the saddle before the school he shouted: "Oh, Betty!"

  Up the sharply angling steps in a bound, and at the door: "Oh, Betty!"

  His voice filled the room with a thick, dull echo, and there was Bettybehind her desk looking up at him agape; and beside her stood BlondyHansen, big, good looking, and equally startled. Fear made the glanceof Vic Gregg swerve--to where little Tommy Aiken scribbled an arithmeticproblem on the blackboard--afterschool work for whispering in class, orsome equally heinous crime. The tingling voices of the other childrenon their way home, floated in to Tommy, and the corners of his mouthdrooped.

  To regain his poise, Vic tugged at his belt and felt the weight of theholster slipping into a more convenient place, then he sauntered upthe aisle, sweeping off his sombrero. Every feeling in his body, everynerve, disappeared in a crystalline hardness, for it seemed to him thatthe air was surcharged by a secret something between Betty and youngHansen. Betty was out from behind her desk and she ran to meet him andtook his hand in both of hers. The rush of her coming took his breath,and at her touch something melted in her.

  "Oh, Vic, are you all through?"

  Gregg stiffened for the benefit of Hansen and Tommy Aiken.

  "Pretty near through," he said carelessly. "Thought I'd drop downto Alder for a day or two and get the kinks out. Hello, Blondy. Hey,Tommy!"

  Tommy Aiken flashed a grin at him, but Tommy was not quite sure that therules permitted speaking, even under such provocation as the return ofVic Gregg, so he maintained a desperate silence. Blondy had picked uphis hat as he returned the greeting.

  "I guess I'll be going," he said, and coughed to show that he wasperfectly at ease, but it seemed to Vic that it was hard for Blondy tomeet his eye when they shook hands. "See you later, Betty."

  "All right." She smiled at Vic--a flash--and then gathered dignity ofboth voice and manner. "You may go now, Tommy."

  She lapsed into complete unconsciousness of manner as Tommy swooped onhis desk, included hat and book in one grab, and darted towards the doorthrough which Hansen had just disappeared. Here he paused, tilting, andhis smile twinkled at them with understanding. "Good-night, Miss Neal.Hope you have a good time, Vic." His heel clicked twice on the stepsoutside, and then the patter of his racing feet across the field.

  "The little mischief!" said Betty, delightfully flushed. "It beatseverything, Vic, how Alder takes things for granted."

  He should have taken her in his arms and kissed her, now that she hadcleared the room, he very well knew, but the obvious thing was alwayslast to come in Gregg's repertoire.

  "Why not take it for granted? It ain't going to be many days, now."

  He watched her eyes sparkle, but the pleasure of seeing him drowned thegleam almost at once.

  "Are you really almost through? Oh, Vic, you've been away so long, andI--" She checked herself. There was no overflow of sentiment in Betty.

  "Maybe I was a fool for laying off work this way," he admitted, "but Isure got terrible lonesome up there."

  Her glance went over him contentedly, from the hard brown hands to thewrinkle which labor had sunk in the exact center of his forehead. He wasall man, to Betty.

  "Come on along," he said. He would kiss her by surprise as they reachedthe door. "Come on along. It's sure enough spring outside. I been eatingit up, and--we can do our talking over things at the dance. Let's ridenow."

  "Dance?"

  "Sure, down to Singer's place."

  "It's going to be kind of hard to get out of going with Blondy. He askedme."

  "And you said you'd go?"

  "What are you flarin' up about?"

  "Look here, how long have you been traipsin' around with Blondy Hansen?"

  She clenched one hand beside her in a way he knew, but it pleased himmore than it warned him, just as it pleased him to see the ears of GreyMolly go back.

  "What's wrong about Blondy Hansen?"

  "What's right about him?" he countered senselessly.

  Her voice went a bit shrill. "Blondy is a gentleman, I'll have youknow."

  "Is he?"

  "Don't you sneer at me, Victor Gregg. I won't have it!"

  "You won't, eh?"

  He felt that he was pushing her to the danger point, but she wasperfectly, satisfyingly beautiful in her anger; he taunted her with thepleasure of an artist painting a picture.

  "I won't!" she repeated. Something else came to her lips, but sherepressed it, and he could see the pressure from within telling.

  "Don't get in a huff over nothing," he urged, in real alarm. "Only, itmade me kind of mad to see Blondy standing there with that calf-look."

  "What calf-look? He's a lot better to look at than you'll ever be."

  A smear of red danced before the vision of Gregg.

  "I don't set up for no beauty prize. Tie a pink ribbon in Blondy's hairand take him to a baby show if you want. He's about young enough toenter."

  If she could have found a ready retort her anger might have passed awayin words, but no words came, and she turned pale. It was here that Greggmade his crucial mistake, for he thought the pallor came from fear,fear which his sham jealousy had roused in her, perhaps. He should havemaintained a discreet silence, but instead, he poured in the gall ofcomplacency upon a raw wound.

  "Blondy's all right," he stated beneficently, "but you just forget abouthim tonight. You're going to that dance, and you're going with me. Ifthere's any explanations to be made, you leave 'em to me. I'll handleBlondy."

  "You handle Blondy!" she whispered. Her voice came back; it rang: "Youcouldn't if he had one hand tied behind him." She measured him foranother blow. "I'm going to that dance and I'm going with Mr. Hansen."

  She knew that he would have died for her, and he knew that she wouldhave died for him; accordingly they abandoned themselves to sullen fury.

  "You're out of date, Vic," she ran on. "Men can't drag women aroundnowadays, and you can't drag me. Not--one--inch." She put a viciouslittle interval between each of the last three words.

  "I'll be calling for you at seven o'clock."

  "I won't be there."

  "Then I'll call on Blondy."

  "You don't dare to. Don't you try to bluff me. I'm not that kind."

  "Betty, d'you mean that? D'you think that I'm yaller?"

  "I don't care what you are."

  "I ask you calm and impersonal, just think that over before you say it."

  "I've already thought it over."

  "Then, by God," said Gregg, trembling, "I'll never take one step out ofmy way to see you again."

  He turned, so blind with fury that he shouldered the door on his way outand so, into the saddle, with Grey Molly standing like a figure of rock,as if she sensed his mood. He swung her about on her hind legs with awrench on the curb and a lift of his spurs, but when she leaped into agallop he brought her back to the walk with a cruel jerk; she began tosidle across the field with her chin drawn almost back to her breast,prancing. That movement of the horse brought him half way around towardsthe door and he was tempted mightily to look, for he knew that BettyNeal was standing there, begging him with her eyes. But the great,sullen pain conquered; he straightened out the mare for the gate.

  Betty was indeed at the door, leaning against it in a sudden weakness,and even in her pain she felt pride in the grace and skill of Vic'shorsemanship. The hearts of both of them were breaking, with this rathertypical difference: that Gregg felt her to be entirely at fault, andthat she as fully accepted every scruple of the blame. He had comedown tired out and nervous from work he had done for her sake, sheremembered
, and if he would only glance back once--he must know that shewas praying for it--she would cry out and run down to him; but he wenton, on, through the gate.

  A flash of her passion returned to her. "I shall go with Blondy--if itkills me." And she flung herself into the nearest seat and wept.

  So when he reached the road and looked back at last, the doorway yawnedblack, empty, and he set his teeth with a groan and spurred down theroad for Alder. He drew rein at Captain Lorrimer's and entered with curtnods in exchange for the greetings.

  "Red-eye," he ordered, and seized bottle and glass as Lorrimer spun themdeftly towards him.

  Captain Lorrimer picked up the bottle and gazed at it mournfully whenVic had poured his drink.

  "Son," he murmured, "you've sure raised an awful thirst."