The Challengers

by Grace Livingston Hill

  At eleven o'clock she began to think she had somehow missed them. Perhaps they had said half past nine and the nurse had given the message wrong. Oh, she ought to have gone right up there to that horrible Jack's room and found out for herself just what time they were going. If only she hadn't been so afraid of an unpleasant experience again! And now it was even later than they had said they were going to start, and that would make it later at the other end.

  Finally, she went to the desk and asked the telephone girl to call up Jack Hollister's room and see if his brother and mother had gone yet, and word came back that they had not but would be downstairs in a little while. She was just to sit there and wait.

  When it got to be half past one, Melissa ate the last two crackers left from her cracker box, ate them surreptitiously, breaking off little bits of pieces and slipping them into her mouth without seeming to be eating. The patients had nearly all of them gone at last, and even the visitors waiting to see some doctor or ask about a friend had gone to get lunch. Melissa thought she never had been so tired in her life. Here she had been sitting for three hours doing nothing but waiting! And how she longed to slip upstairs and see if there was any change yet in her brother, only she dared not lest she miss the Hollisters.

  It was nearly three o'clock when she saw through the open door a car drive up to the curb, and there at last was Gene Hollister.

  He was all alone. Doubtless he was going up after his mother, and she might take the chance and run up again just for a last look at Steve. But no, he walked in exactly as if she had been keeping him waiting.

  "Ready?" he asked carelessly. "Well, c'mon!"

  She followed him out to the car and was relieved that he put her in the backseat, thinking now she would be safe with his mother, but to her astonishment he got into the front seat himself and slammed the door shut, starting the engine at once.

  "Why, where is your mother?" she asked in alarm. "You haven't forgotten her, have you? Or is she at the hotel?"

  "No, the Mater decided not to go back today. She phoned and put off her bridge party till next week. Jack put up such a fight at her leaving him alone that she had to stay. I'm taking some other people back with us for the ride. They're great company. You'll like them all right."

  Melissa gasped and sat back, trying to think what to do. Would they all be men, these friends of his? Mother wouldn't approve at all of her driving late at night with a lot of men and no woman. Dared she say anything about it? Would it look as if she were being very rude when they were taking her all the way for nothing and had been kind enough to offer? Perhaps she had better wait and see when they stopped to pick up the other people. If they were all men, she might say that if they didn't mind she would get out and go back and stay another day since his mother was staying also. Only, what should she do about money? She would certainly have to call up and ask her mother. Oh, she must somehow stick this thing through. But if she once got home, she would never go away on her own again without advice from someone.

  They turned down a mean little street with rows of cheap houses, and Melissa looked anxiously out.

  Gene stopped the car at an untidy house and knocked at the door. Melissa was relieved to see a girl come out with her hat on and a suitcase in her hand. So there was to be another girl. Well, that wasn't so bad. Perhaps the girl was the only one. There did not seem to be any other person coming out.

  Hollister put the other girl in the front seat with himself, waving an informal introduction: "Meet Miss Challenger, Miss Saltaine!" and took his place beside her.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The girl gave Melissa one quick, startled stare and then turned to her escort.

  "Challenger, d'ya say? Gosh, Gene, is that what you're handing out as inducement? What's the little old idea, anyway? Tryin' ta put one over on me?"

  "Nothing of the kind, girlie," said the genial Gene, starting up his car with a jerk. "Just taking Miss Challenger back home. I brought her down, you know. She's been down to see her brother. Got any objections? If you have, speak them now or forever after, etc."

  Melissa did not quite know what it was all about, only that there was a hostile attitude in the girl. She supposed that probably she was disappointed at not having the ride alone with Hollister. She very likely didn't want to feel that a stranger was watching her.

  But it presently developed that the young woman on the front seat had no objections to being watched. She regarded the girl in the backseat as so much nothing. She snuggled herself up to the driver affectionately, looked into his eyes, lit a cigarette for him and one for herself, and taking off her hat with a carefree motion settled her golden head firmly on Hollister's shoulder.

  After Melissa got over her surprise and embarrassment at such actions, she was rather glad to be thus utterly left out of the picture. At least it left her free to rest and enjoy the scenery, if there was any capacity to enjoy anything left in her weary, troubled soul.

  She studied the new girl with curiosity. She had never met a girl quite like this one. She was startlingly, unnaturally beautiful, with a complexion so brilliant and so brazenly artificial that it seemed to Melissa, who had been brought up in an extremely conservative atmosphere, absolutely a caricature of a human face. And yet she had to own it was lovely, in a flashy way. She was as lovely as the most perfect doll one could think of. Just pretty flesh, but nothing in the expression but vanity. A selfish cupid's bow of a mouth, gold hair that curled, whether natural or artificially, in a most engaging and arresting manner, fluffed out like a dandelion, waving around in the breeze like golden tulle, brushing the face of the young man upon whom she reclined, tossing itself into bright little billows and wavelets. It really was fascinating to watch, and Melissa watched it, unaware that the owner of the hair was all the time watching her in the little mirror up in front.

  Melissa, lovely as a drooping flower in the backseat, had no idea that her own face, off its guard because she thought herself unseen, was mirroring forth as water the thoughts that were in her heart; and when the girl in the front seat looked into the little mirror, she saw a pity for herself mingled with contempt in the eyes of the girl in the backseat that galled her to the soul.

  Suddenly she raised her head and, deliberately turning round, blew a long breath of smoke straight at Melissa.

  "For cat's sake, what are you staring at?" she snapped out at Melissa.

  Melissa summoned a faint little smile, trying to answer pleasantly.

  "I was looking at your hair and thinking how beautiful it is," she said quietly.

  "Oh, blah! I don't believe you!" said the other girl. "Turn your little sissy gaze on the landscape. I don't choose to be looked at and admired by you, nor any of your doggone fool family. I'm done with 'em once and fer all. Get me?"

  For answer, Melissa raised her Challenger chin just the least little bit and looked steadily into the other girl's insolent eyes, a grave, sweet disconcerting look that only angered her the more. And then Melissa was aware of another pair of amused eyes watching her in that fatal little mirror that she had not noticed until now.

  "Oh, for Pete's sake, Sylvia, cut it! This isn't a battlefield. I brought you girls along to have a good time together. Be a good sport and forget what bothers you! Let's get together on a little friendliness."

  "Not me!" said Sylvia, shrugging her shoulders. "You never told me you were bringing along a fancy peacock for company, or I'd have gone with somebody else today."

  "Oh, shut up, Sylvia," said Hollister crossly. "You don't need to be a cat!"

  "Well, why doesn't she smoke, if she wantsta be one of us?" demanded the golden beauty with a sneer. "Here, take mine and I'll light another," she said, taking her half-smoked cigarette out of her gaudy mouth and handing it to Melissa.

  "Thank you, no," said Melissa haughtily, withdrawing her gaze from the girl and sitting back in the seat. Then she turned to Hollister and spoke with as much dignity as she could summon:

  "Mr. Hollister, I'll be grateful if
you will just let me out in the next village you come to. I feel that I'm intruding and it would be better for me to go home by train."

  As she spoke, she remembered that this must be the emergency of which Brady had been fearful. She felt that she must get away from these dreadful people at once.

  Hollister's answer was to step on the gas and send the car flying on the faster.

  There was a stubborn look on his face, albeit veiled by the half grin as he spoke: "You cut it out, too! This is a party, not a sparring match. Just hold on a little while longer and the fun will begin. Here's where we stop for a friend of mine! You'll get rid of your grouch when you have a little attention of your own." And suddenly he dashed into a deeply wooded road that was barely a trail, presently arriving at a little cabin in the wilderness.

  A young man in city attire, looking strangely out of place, stood on the crude porch awaiting them. Beside him on the wooden platform lay a case of bottles.

  As the car drew up before the house, the young man stooped and lifted this case, swinging it into the trunk, springing in, and throwing his overcoat over the case. The car started almost instantly again with such a lurch that it threw the stranger over into Melissa's lap. In horror she tried to move over, reaching out to unfasten the door. Obviously this would be her place to get out if she could manage it, but it was too late. The car was tearing along at a fearful rate of speed now. Straight through the woods they were going, crashing into little saplings and laying them low, grazing a rock on one side with a fearful grinding and scraping of metal, rocking over a log across the path. There absolutely was no possibility of getting out now.

  Melissa sat back white and frightened, holding to the side of the car. The young stranger whom they called "Hen," presumably Henry, sprawled all over the backseat and took no pains to keep to his own side of the car.

  "Better shy outta this road," he muttered to Hollister, as he lurched back into place again after a fearful jouncing. "They warned me there were state cops around here. Better cross the creek ahead there and get outta the state."

  His utterance was thick, and Melissa began to be terribly frightened. Before she had felt only distaste; now it was something that unnerved her.

  "That's all right," said Hollister carelessly. "We're just going to sit by in the trees here a few minutes and have a little drink. All hands'll feel better after that. So, Sylvia?"

  He drew up the car sharply and was about to stop his engine, when in the sudden lull there came the sound of a motorcycle in the distance, followed by a shot, sharp and terrifying.

  Melissa cringed and thought of screaming for help, but the car lurched forward again so suddenly that it threw her to her knees, and she had all she could do to get herself back in the seat before her companion on the backseat fell on top of her.

  "Whad I tell ya?" said Henry thickly.

  Then all at once Melissa knew that he had turned his attention to her. He was looking her straight in the face with a pair of bleared eyes that could scarcely focus, and the realization came to her that he was drunk. Melissa was not used to seeing people in that state. She never remembered to have been so near to a drunken person in her life before. The idea almost paralyzed her.

  "Hello, Beautiful!" he said, bringing his unpleasant face with its loathsome breath nearer to her own. "Hello, Beautiful! Where'd they dig you up from? Kiss me, Beautiful!" And he brought his fulsome red lips close to hers with that sickening breath of alcohol pouring into her nostrils.

  As his lips touched hers, Melissa screamed; not just an ordinary scream, it was a shriek that echoed piercingly through the woods, and almost at once they heard another shot and the rumble of the motorcycle nearer by.

  Hollister turned in his seat with a scowl that transformed him into something like a demon.

  "You shut up, you little devil, do you hear?" he growled at Melissa. "If you make another sound, I'll gag and bind you, understand? Now, that'll be about all we'll hear from anybody just now. They're onto us. I don't reckon you wantta get dragged into court, do you? Yes, you, Melissa Challenger. That's where we'll all land if you give us any more of your mouth right now. This is a mess! Shut up till we get out of it."

  A road suddenly appeared to the left, and Hollister almost upset the car turning into it. They tore along at such a rate of speed that Melissa felt that every moment would be the last, and all she could do was to close her eyes, grip her hands together, and try to keep from bumping all over the car.

  Henry, meantime, was growing sleepy, and when at last they turned into a reasonably smooth road and went skimming through space in a quieter manner, he suddenly toppled over sideways with his head on Melissa's shoulder and declared he was going to sleep.

  Melissa tried to slip out from under his weight but found to her horror that he only slid down more firmly whenever she stirred. All she could do was to turn her face as far away from his as possible and hide her hands down in the cushion next to the side of the car. But the heavy, unpleasant head continued to rest inertly upon her unwilling shoulder.

  The sky was darkening now. There seemed to be a storm coming up. The horror of the way grew worse every minute. The girl Sylvia--was this the same Sylvia who had attended her brother on his fateful ride two nights ago?--reached back under the overcoat and took a bottle from the case. She drank from it and passed it to Hollister, who took a long pull before he gave it back. Were the terrors of the way to be made still more alarming by the drunken driver? What would her mother think now if she could see her riding along at this pace with a drunken man's head upon her shoulder! And another drunken man driving? What did God mean by letting this awful thing happen to her?

  Suddenly it came to her that He hadn't let it happen. She had walked straight into it with her eyes open. She knew in her heart that her mother would not have approved of her going, knew it when she started and just wanted to go for the experience of going by herself in a great car like that with rich people.

  Poor little trembling Melissa, hating herself and her surroundings, weary and hungry and frightened to the last degree. Oh God, she began to say over and over again in her heart. Oh God! Help me. Help me! Help! Help! Help!

  The night began to come down, and the clouds grew thicker. The man who slept on her shoulder grew heavier, as he sank deeper in sleep. She tried to shake him off again, but all to no purpose. She thought of appealing to Hollister to help her, but the two on the front seat were drinking heavily now, and she dared not draw their attention to herself. She began to think of herself as a coward, too. She dared not speak nor stir lest she make her plight even worse. She had read awful stories of things like this happening, but it had never seemed possible that they could happen to her.

  The storm was gathering force now. Lightning trickled through a cloud and cut it in a bright half straight ahead of them above a mountain. Thunder rolled in majesty all around them. Melissa never had been fond of thunderstorms. She liked to be under shelter when they were going on. But now she thought how happy and safe she would feel if she could just get out there alone in the fast-coming darkness. Wind and rain and lightning, but nothing as terrifying as the hostile drunken company inside this luxurious car. She never would want to ride in a fine car again. She was cured forever.

  Darkness had really come at last and hidden some of the perils of the way except when a sudden flash lit up the world for miles around. The two on the front seat began to talk about eating.

  "We'll find a good roadhouse and have dinner and a little dance!" said Hollister genially and tipsily, turning around to rouse Henry. "Say, Hen! Oh, I say, Henry Brille, wake up! We're going to stop at the Holly Whistle roadhouse and whoop it up. Sit up! We're almost there!"

  Melissa crouched fearfully in her corner and wondered what she should do, wondered what new horror would appear when this man woke up.

  He stretched and turned. Oh, if she could only get away from under his head so that he would not know he had been sleeping on her shoulder. It seemed as if she never co
uld bear herself again if he knew that she had had to sit there and bear it ignominiously.

  She writhed away from him and slid to the floor of the car as he lurched down the full width of the seat, and there she crouched until he finally roused to Hollister's call and straightened up, rubbing his eyes.

  To her great relief he did not seem to realize what had been going on at all. He sat back, relaxed in his corner, and Melissa slid silently back into her place as far from him as the seat would allow. He had for the moment forgotten her.

  They were turning into a long lane now, with great stone pillars at either side bearing balls of electric light. The spirits of her companions roused to song, and they drove up the hill, around the lit curving way, with a boisterous round of what they seemed to think was music. They also handed another bottle around, and Henry tried to put it to her lips in turn. Melissa took it in the dark and put it on the floor, holding it with her foot. She was afraid to protest lest they might hold her and pour some down her throat.

  And now they were stopping in front of a long low house that looked like a farmhouse built over. Its porches were rimmed with garish red and yellow electric lightbulbs, and its windows and doors were well darkened. She could hear Hollister telling Sylvia about a raid that had been made here once when he was present and how he escaped without being caught. She shrank back into her corner and wondered what she could do. Would there be any chance to get away? They had come through a village a few miles back. Oh, if she could but get back there. She would rather walk every step of the way home than ride another mile in this awful car with these terrible people.

  Trembling so that she could scarcely walk, she obeyed their command to get out.

  "Come on, Beautiful!" said Henry, drawing her reluctant hand within his arm and guiding her uncertainly toward the steps. "We'll show you a good time!"

  It was dark close by the steps. One had to go slowly and look down to make sure where to walk. There were people coming out as they came up. It became necessary to go single file to pass one another. Suddenly Melissa jerked her arm out of the clasp that held it and slipped behind her escort, just as two men and a woman came noisily down the steps, brushing past her.