Rainbow Cottage

by Grace Livingston Hill

  The train swept along, blinding her with its brilliant light, taking her breath with its near swiftness, and pelting her with a tornado of dust, cinders, and stinging particles of hard earth. She had to stand with down-bent head and closed eyes till it was past. And then it seemed to have gone so much farther up the platform than usual tonight, and she had all that long way to go back to get to it.

  As soon as she could get her breath, she scrambled up the steep embankment, crouched a moment, and then gripping her valise, dashed across the track like a shadow and slid down the other side, getting her shoes full of big, painful cinders. She dared not run up the track, for then she would be in full sight of everyone, and there seemed to be many passengers tonight, more than usual.

  But when she reached the firm ground, she found the going hard, for there were little unexpected hillocks, and twice in her haste she fell and bruised herself.

  When she reached the train and looked up at its forbidding length hopefully, she found to her dismay that not a single car had its doors open on that side of the track. Her heart sank. She would have to enter from the other side, no matter what happened, or stay behind.

  There was nothing for it but to climb that bank and drag her satchel up after her, which she did, slowly, painfully, on hands and determined feet, her shoes hurting cruelly with the invading cinders.

  Standing close behind the train, she pulled up her valise after her and then flung the rope far down into the darkness of the ditch. If anyone found it there in the grass, it would tell no tales now, for no one knew she possessed such a rope.

  She turned blindly and rounded the end of the train, dashing madly for the first entrance open. But there was no welcoming door either at the first or second cars. They were all closed and sealed against invasion. There was an open door at the upper end of the third car with a little carpeted step on the platform before it, but that was the door to the diner, and Sheila shrank from parading through that brightly lighted place of tables and well-dressed people carrying her shabby baggage. It would attract too much attention. Someone on the platform might see her and call attention to her. On to the next car she dashed, where there was another velvet-carpeted step, but a burly porter in white linen prevented her with a big white-linen arm.

  “Parlor cars, miss, take the fourth car up for the day coach!”

  “Oh, but I’m afraid the train will start,” pleaded Sheila, lifting frightened eyes to his imposing grandeur. “Couldn’t I just walk through the cars?”

  “No, miss. Plenty of time! Just walk up front there. We got four minutes yet!”

  Two men and a woman, obviously out from a parlor car for a walk while the train stopped, turned and looked curiously at her. Sheila fled down the platform, keeping close to the train, her face turned away from the Junction House. Her breath came in quick gasps now. Her shoulders sagged under the weight of her valise. Her knees threatened to buckle under her. She felt as though she were going to cry. Oh, if she should stumble and fall and somebody have to pick her up and make a disturbance! Oh, this was cruel, cruel! Now at this last minute to have to fail and have Buck come out and take her in and look at her gloatingly with his awful eyes.

  At last, a pair of steps with nobody guarding them! It wasn’t a day coach. There were still two more sleepers, but Sheila dashed up the steps and inside the narrow passage out of sight, drawing a deep breath and swaying against the paneled wall for an instant, closing her eyes and battling back the tears. Thankful! Thankful! Just to be inside shelter. Just to have a car floor under her feet instead of the prairie. A paneled wall instead of a mesquite bush.

  But some people were coming up the steps, a man and two women. They were coming into this car.

  “Fancy living in a desolate spot like this!” one of the women said, and her laugh rang out disdainfully.

  Sheila started and dashed on through the car, which was almost empty except for fur coats and overcoats on the backs of chairs. Everybody had gone outside to get a little exercise. Sheila gave thanks again for that and hurried on through the next car. A porter eyed her askance, but she flashed him a frightened smile and hurried on, so obviously trying to get out of his car that he forbore to say anything to her.

  Her arms ached and her legs trembled, but she was at last within a day coach. She knew it by the lack of upholstery and the crowded human life within.

  A glance outside the window showed this car to be headed about on a level with the west end of the Junction House, and her window, from which she had so recently descended, showed a square of candlelight and a figure moving about within! They were looking for her. That was Buck up there looking for her! Mrs. Higgins wouldn’t have the time! She would have to take her place serving! Poor Mrs. Higgins! But there hadn’t been any other way!

  Sheila’s heart seemed to turn completely over, and her feet grew like lead. Wildly she hurried on, dragging her heavy feet, her heavy, heavy arms with their burden! She must get farther ahead, as far front as she could. She might easily be seen from the windows of the restaurant. Buck had eagle eyes.

  So on she went through several more cars, wondering how long the train was, not daring to look behind, resolved that if at the last minute she should see Buck coming after her she would simply swing herself down into the darkness and hide somewhere. Even if the train were going fast she would do it. Even if it killed her she were better dead than in his hands!

  But she came to a car at last that had a whole seat without a sign of occupant and two children in the seat behind it asleep in each other’s arms. A woman across the aisle was nodding with her head on a gingham pillow, and another old lady was snoring up in front. The rest of the travelers were likely out getting supper.

  Sheila settled down in the vacant seat as quietly as her taut nerves and strained muscles would let her, slid her old valise in after her, crept close to the window, pulled her old hat down over her face, hunched her back up toward the aisle, put her head on her arms with her face mostly hidden, and pretended she was asleep, too. Fortunately her seat was on the left side of the car away from the Junction House. That helped.

  Presently, when she could breathe normally again, she thought to herself of her fare. She would probably have to pay it as soon as the train was in motion again, and she must have it ready so that she would not attract attention to herself. Some of these conductors and trainmen knew her, at least might recognize her and ask questions. Well, she must be ready for questions.

  So she whipped her tired brain to think it all out. She slid her old valise up on the seat beside her, next to the window, turned her back still more to the aisle and got out her mother’s little worn purse. She had been paid that very morning for her past month’s work, and she hadn’t had time yet to sew this money inside her garments with the rest of her savings. But there would be enough in the purse to pay her way to the next big city, she was sure of that, for she had made inquiry and studied a map. She had been thinking for a long time of going away. Indeed, her mother and she had often talked over together how much it would cost for them to go. Yet they never would actually consider starting because of Father, not till they were sure he was never coming back. For if he should come back, how would he find them?

  So Sheila plucked out her purse, fastened up the old valise, slid it back as far as possible from the aisle, and once more adjusted herself as if taking a quiet nap with her face turned as far out of sight as possible.

  The people were coming back to their seats now, wiping their lips, and settling down for another long ride. They laughed and joked, and apparently no one took note of her.

  Incredibly at last, after what seemed like centuries of perilous waiting, the train lurched and started on. They were really moving, and moving rapidly.

  Sheila opened one eye and looked into the night. She could see the familiar landmarks hurrying by in the darkness. Far to the east there were signs in the sky of the moon that would soon rise, and over there against the darkness she knew they were now passing a c
rude cemetery, unfenced and forlorn. Two or three simple stones, a few crude crosses here and there, and one dear grave over in the far corner that was her mother’s, set about with stones that she herself had carried one by one to mark the spot. She was going off to leave that poor little grave all alone.

  But it did not matter. She could do nothing now for the beloved mother but to get to safety herself. She lay still with her head pillowed on the windowsill and watched that dark place of the graves out of sight; then she became conscious again of her immediate future and her fear lest after all she had not escaped. Buck might have somehow sensed that she was on the train and boarded it before it left the station. He might turn up any minute. She must lie quite still and not attract the least attention.

  Chapter 6

  Buck sat at the crude pine counter waiting for his coffee, and when it did not come, he called loudly for Sheila. And when Sheila did not come, nor answer, he got up and stamped up and down the shallow room in front of the counter and cursed.

  When that had no effect, he got himself over the counter by placing his hands on its top and vaulting over and thundered out into the kitchen cursing loudly at Sheila and Mrs. Higgins and the coffee and at Sheila again.

  Mrs. Higgins lifted a flushed face beaded with perspiration from her work over the hot stove. She was turning small pieces of steak, and a savory steam was going up.

  “What’s the trouble?” she asked sourly. “Seems ’zif you’re always round about this time makin’ a fuss. ’Zif I didn’t have enough t’ do ’thout you mouthin’ round.”

  “Where’s that hellcat of a girl?”

  “Girl?” said Ma Higgins, poising one bit of fried meat on her fork as she looked at him. “That’s a nice name t’ call any girl, let alone such a nice little thing as Sheila. She’s hard workin’ if she does look kinda pinklin’. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  “Where is she?” demanded the man with another curse.

  “She was round here a minit ago,” said the woman, turning back to her meat. “I reckun she’ll be back.”

  “Well, I ordered coffee, and when I order coffee I want it,” said the man, setting out his ugly jaw at her.

  “Look ahere now, you there, you don’t have any call ta come out in my kitchen an’ give me words like that. I don’t havta take ’em, an’ I won’t!”

  “You don’t havta, don’t ya?” said the man angrily. “Well, we’ll see about that. Who is it pays ya, I’d like ta know? Mebbe you don’t know, an’ if you don’t, I’ll tell ya. I do. I’ve bought over the concession to this place. It’s up ta me ta say who gets your job of cooking, see?”

  “Well, it ain’t so much of a job,” said the woman with a weary grimace. “I’ll quit right now ef you say so. I ain’t pertikiler about this trainload of folks gettin’ any grub er not. They ken go on ta the next stop an’ eat, ef you say so.”

  “Shut up!” said the man. “Where’s that girl, I say?”

  “I don’t know’n’ I don’t care!” said the woman wearily. “I guess likely she’s sick. She’s been kinda peaked all day. She might uv gone up ta her room fer sumthin’. There’s yer coffee settin’ right ’afore yer face an’ eyes! Take it an’ git outta my kitchen ef I’ve gotta go on an’ cook.”

  Buck took up the coffee cup and drained it in one gulp.

  “Where’s her room?” asked the man.

  “Top o’ the third-story stairs,” answered the woman apathetically. “But don’t you keep her. Tell her I see the headlight of the train comin’ round the curve an’ she oughtta be right on the job this minit! Tell her I can’t cook an’ wait both.”

  But the man was already on the way up the stairs.

  He didn’t stop to knock on the door. He pushed it open roughly and stared around in the darkness. Only the square patch of western sky, where the window was, relieved the darkness, and that merely served to blind him. He blinked into the dark for a moment, and just in that instant the headlight of the train swept around the curve, and the light curved around the room like a searchlight, making visible one corner after another.

  Buck saw the empty bed, the stark washstand, the chair, and the wooden box nailed up in the corner.

  He strode to the tiny closet, which was not more than an alcove under the eaves, and lighting a match, flashed it in the corners.

  There was nothing there but a little pair of worn-out shoes with big holes in them, huddled shamefully in one corner, to tell that the girl had occupied the room.

  He looked at them thoughtfully, frowning a moment, then turned and strode over to the box in the corner and lit another match.

  ANDREW AINSLEE flared out at him in big clear letters. He started and, lighting another match, stooped nearer.

  The boards across the top of the box were not nailed tight. They seemed to be put in only temporarily. There were cracks between the boards, and he could see books inside.

  He arose and looked around, found the old candle almost burned down to the socket and lighted it. Then he put a strong, cunning hand on the box and, inserting his fingers between the boards in the largest crack, wrenched off a board. Then another. He took out the books one by one, and in the uncertain light of the flickering candle, examined each one, holding it by the two covers and shaking it out. Sometimes a frail, pressed prairie flower fluttered down to break in dust as it touched the floor. Sometimes a paper. When it was a paper, he eagerly picked it up and examined it, holding it near the candle flame to study every line upon it.

  But they were not the right papers. Most of them had pitiful little sums of figures scribbled down. Once it was a Bible verse, and the man cursed under his breath and held it in the flame of the candle till it flared up and fell in ashes. Avidly he searched each book, page by page, twice over, then turned the box upside down and searched every crevice. If that box could have spoken, it might have told a tale of the paper for which he was hunting and how only five brief hours before it had been packed here with the books, wrapped in cotton, carefully concealed in an old silver penholder and in a fine old carved sandalwood box. But the box could not speak, and the man was angry. Giving the books a kick that scattered them across the floor and leaving the candle to sputter itself out where it stood beside them, Buck tramped downstairs. Just as he reached the top of the first flight, he heard the train pull out of the station. He had been so engaged in hunting for that paper that he had not even noticed it pulling in.

  “I can’t find that dratted girl!” he said as he stormed into the kitchen. “Where is she?”

  “What’s the difference now?” asked the tired old woman, dropping down into a wooden chair and brushing back a straggling lock of gray hair from her hot tired face. “She couldn’t do any good ef she did come. Gracious! All them people and only me to cook and serve. I had ta set Tony takin’ the money. Dear knows how much he kep’ himself! But what could I do? I couldn’t be in three places ’twonce, could I? Two is all I ever hope ta be able ta occupy. Ef you was anxious about servin’ yer passengers, why’n’tya come down an’ hep yerself, steada huntin’ after a girl that don’t wanta see ya, no ways? I’m all beat out, an’ I’m servin’ notice right ’ere an’ now. I don’t serve another trainload alone, not if I lose the only job between here an’ heaven.”

  “Heaven!” said the man with an oath. “A lot you’ll see of heaven! Now, you tell me where that girl went or I’ll lame you!”

  Ma Higgins looked up with her tired eyes into the bright, cold eye of a little revolver, but she didn’t waver a hair.

  “Lame ahead!” she said drearily. “I couldn’t be no worse off ’n I am. Ef I’m lame I couldn’t do yer cookin’ fer yea, could I? Well, shoot ahead. There’s no loss ’thout some gain. I’d about as soon die one way as another!”

  The man lowered his gun and swore at her, went to the shelf over the sink and gathered up two candle ends, then turned and slammed out the kitchen door, walking away into the darkness of the night. He was on his way to the little shanty, a couple
of miles through the woods, where Moira and her daughter, Sheila, had eked out a scant existence for the past three years alone.

  And out over the dark prairie, a long train wound like a bright-scaled snake along through the night, carrying a tired frightened girl who was afraid to show her face lest he should appear to menace her.

  Buck was never one to regard other people’s property. When he reached the shanty and found it all dark, he listened a minute, gave a thunderous knock, and then when no one responded, took hold of the doorknob with a mighty wrench, kicked the heavy door, and the latch gave way.

  He stumbled into the dark room, his hand on his gun, ready for any possibility, listened an instant, then struck a light and looked around. He lit a candle from his pocket and looked around more carefully. There were only three rooms to the shanty, and it did not take long to go through them all. They were bare and clean. A bedroom, a kitchen, and a little living room.

  The shelves in the kitchen were bare and clean as a whistle. Not even a broken saucer to tell of the former inhabitants. Sheila had cleaned the whole house before leaving it.

  He poked around in the corners of the shelves, ran his hand back into any cracks, even the ledges over the rough doors; he felt in every one.

  The bedroom had sheets of wrapping paper neatly tacked over the rough uprights, sealing it clean and tight. He poked his finger through a place and tore off the paper in great jagged pieces, peering behind each piece. He did his work thoroughly.

  But it was in the living room that he did his best searching. On one wall there were shelves across the whole end from floor to ceiling, and by the marks on the old boards, he could see there had been rows of books there. Books! Where did they get all those books and what did they want of them? Books! Where were they? The paper might be in any one of them.

  Carefully Buck climbed up and searched the top shelves. It was possible the woman and the girl did not know the value of that paper. Perhaps they did not even know of its existence. Andrew Ainslee would be out in a few months. If he could only find that paper beforehand, he would have Andrew right where he wanted him. He could put him back again to stay, where no word from him could ever reach the outer world to upset the lowest schemes he might devise—if he only had that paper.