“Perhaps not,” agreed Mrs. Downey, “but it would have made no difference in regard to the lease. I’ve been expecting Jasko’s decision. Even so, it comes as a blow. This last week I had been turning ideas over in my mind, trying to think of a way I could keep on here. Now everything is settled.”
Penny crossed the room and slipped an arm about the woman’s shoulders.
“I’m as sorry as I can be.”
With a sudden change of mood, Mrs. Downey arose and gave Penny’s hand an affectionate squeeze.
“Losing the lodge won’t mean the end of the world,” she said lightly. “While I may not be able to sell the place for a very good price now that the ski slopes are gone, I’ll at least get something from Mr. Maxwell. And I have a small income derived from my husband’s insurance policy.”
“Where will you go if you leave here?”
“I haven’t given that part any thought,” admitted Mrs. Downey. “I may do a little traveling. I have a sister in Texas I might visit.”
“You’ll be lonesome for Pine Top.”
“Yes,” admitted Mrs. Downey, “this place will always seem like home to me. And I’ve lived a busy, useful life for so many years it will be hard to let go.”
“Possibly Peter Jasko will reconsider his decision.”
Mrs. Downey smiled and shook her head. “Not Peter. I’ve known him for many years, although I can’t say I ever became acquainted with him. Once he makes a stand nothing can sway him.”
“Is he entirely right in his mind?” Penny asked dubiously.
“Oh, yes. He’s peculiar, that’s all. And he’s getting old.”
Despite Mrs. Downey’s avowal that no one was responsible for Peter Jasko’s decision, Penny considered herself at fault. She could not blame the old man for being provoked because she had helped his granddaughter escape from the cabin.
“If I went down there and apologized it might do some good,” she thought. “At least, nothing will be lost by trying.”
Penny turned the plan over in her mind, saying nothing about it to Mrs. Downey. It seemed to her that the best way would be to wait for a few hours until Peter Jasko had been given an opportunity to get over his anger.
The afternoon dragged on slowly. Toward nightfall, finding confinement intolerable, Penny ventured out-of-doors to try her skis. She was thrilled to discover that she could use them without too much discomfort.
Going to the kitchen window, she called to Mrs. Downey that she intended to do a little skiing and might be late for dinner.
“Oh, Penny, you’re not able,” the woman protested, raising the sash. “It’s only your determination which drives you on.”
“I’m feeling much better,” insisted Penny. “I want to go down the mountain and see Sara.”
“It will be a hard climb back,” warned Mrs. Downey. “And the radio reported another bad storm coming.”
“That’s why I want to go now,” answered Penny. “We may be snowbound by tomorrow.”
“Well, if you must go, don’t overtax your strength,” cautioned Mrs. Downey.
Penny wrapped a woolen scarf tightly about her neck as a protection against the biting wind. Cautiously, she skied down the trail, finding its frozen surface treacherous, and scarcely familiar. In the rapidly gathering dusk nothing looked exactly the same as by daylight. Trees towered like unfriendly giants, obscuring the path.
Before Penny had covered half the distance to Jasko’s cabin, snowflakes, soft and damp, began to fall. They came faster and faster, the wind whirling them directly into her face. She kept her head down and wished that she had remained by the crackling log fire at the Downey lodge.
Swinging out of the forest, Penny was hard pressed to remember the trail. As she hesitated, trying to decide which way to go, she felt her skis slipping along a downgrade where none should have been. Too late, she realized that she was heading down into a deep ravine which terminated in an ice-sheeted river below.
Throwing herself flat, Penny sought to save herself, but she kept sliding, sliding. A stubby evergreen at last stayed her fall. She clung helplessly to it for a moment, recovering her breath. Then she tried to pull herself up the steep incline. She slipped and barely caught hold of the bush to save herself from another bad fall. Sharp pains shot through her side.
“Now I’ve fixed myself for sure,” she thought. “How will I ever get out of this hole?”
The ravine offered protection from the chill wind, but the snow was sifting down steadily. Penny could feel her clothing becoming thoroughly soaked. If she should lie still she soon would freeze.
Again Penny tried to struggle up the bank, and again she slid backwards. From sheer desperation rather than because she cherished a hope that anyone would hear, Penny shouted for help.
An answering halloo echoed to her through the trees.
Penny dared not hope that the voice was other than her own. “Help! Help!” she called once more.
Her heart leaped. The cry which came back definitely belonged to a man! And as she marveled at the miracle of a rescue, a dark figure loomed up at the rim of the ravine.
A gruff voice called to her: “Hold on! Don’t try to move! I’ll get a rope and be back!”
The man faded back into the darkness. Penny clung to the bush until it seemed her arms would break. Snow fell steadily, caking her hood and penetrating the woolen suit.
Then as the girl lost all awareness of time, she caught the flash of a lighted lantern. Her rescuer appeared again at the top of the ravine and lowered a rope. She grasped it, wrapping it tightly about her wrist, and climbed as best she could while the man pulled from above.
At last Penny reached the top, falling in an exhausted heap on the snow. Raising her head she stared into the face of her rescuer. The man was Peter Jasko.
He recognized her at the same instant.
“You!” he exclaimed.
For one disturbing moment Penny thought the old man meant to push her back down into the yawning ravine. In the yellow glow of the lantern, the expression of his face was terrifying.
Gaining control of himself, Peter Jasko demanded gruffly: “Hurt?”
“I’ve twisted my ankle.” Penny pulled herself up from the ground, took a step, and recoiled with pain.
“Let me have a look at it.”
Jasko bent down and examined the ankle.
“No bones broken,” he said. “You’re luckier than you deserve. Any fool who doesn’t know enough to keep off skis ought to be crippled for life!”
“Such a cheerful philosophy,” observed Penny ironically. “Well, thanks anyhow for saving me. Even if you are sorry you did it.”
The old man made no immediate reply. He stood gazing down at Penny.
“Reckon I owe you something,” he said grudgingly. “Sara told me how you kept the bob-sled from going off the track. Injured yourself, too, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You had no business helping Sara go against my will,” the old man said, his anger rising again. “I told you to stay away, didn’t I?”
“You did. I was sorry to disobey your orders, Mr. Jasko, but I think you are unjust to your granddaughter.”
“You do, eh?”
“And you’re not being fair to Mrs. Downey either,”Penny went on courageously. “She’s struggled for years to make her lodge profitable, fought against overwhelming odds while the Fergus interests have done everything they can to put her out of business. Unless you renew her lease, she’ll be forced to leave Pine Top.”
“So?” inquired the old man, unmoved.
“She’s fighting with her back to the wall. And now you’ve dealt her the final blow.”
“No one asked Mrs. Downey to come here in the first place,” replied Peter Jasko. “Or them other hotel people either. Pine Top can get along without the lot of ’em. The sooner they all clear out the better I’ll like it.”
“I’m sure of that,” said Penny. “You don’t care how much trouble you cause other fol
ks. Because of your own son’s death you have taken an unnatural attitude toward skiing. You hate everything remotely connected with the sport. But it isn’t fair. Your granddaughter has a right to a certain amount of freedom.”
Peter Jasko listened to the girl’s words in silence. When she had finished he said in a strangely shaken voice:
“My son met his death going on ten years ago. It was on this trail—”
“I’m sorry,” Penny said contritely. “I shouldn’t have spoken the way I did. Actually, I was on my way down the mountain to tell you I deeply regret helping Sara to go against your will.”
“My granddaughter is headstrong,” the old man replied slowly. “I want what’s best for her. That’s why I’ve tried to protect her.”
“I’m sure you’ve done what you thought was right,” Penny returned. “Why don’t you see Mrs. Downey again and—”
“No!” said the old man stubbornly. “You can’t say anything which will make me change my mind. Take my arm and see if you can walk!”
Penny struggled forward, supported by Jasko’s strong arm. Although each step sent a wracking pain through her leg she made no sound of protest.
“You can’t make it that way,” the old man declared, pausing. “I’ll have to fix up a sled and pull you.”
Going back for Penny’s skis which had been left at the top of the ravine, he lashed them together. She lay full length on the runners, and he towed her until they came within view of the cabin. A light glowed in the window.
On level ground, Penny tried walking again, and managed to reach the cabin door.
“You go on inside,” the old man directed. “I’ll hitch up the bob-sled and take you home.”
Penny pushed open the door only to hesitate on the threshold. The room was filled with tobacco smoke. Two men sat at the table, and directly behind them stood Sara Jasko.
The girl came swiftly to the door. She gave Penny a warm smile of welcome, not noticing that she had been hurt, and said anxiously to Mr. Jasko:
“Grandfather, you have visitors. Mr. Fergus and Mr. Maxwell are waiting to see you. I think it’s about the lease.”
“I’ve nothing to say to them,” returned the old man grimly.
Nevertheless, he followed the two girls into the room, closing the door against the wind and snow.
The situation was an awkward one for Penny. Ralph Fergus and Harvey Maxwell both stared at her with undisguised dislike and suspicion. Then, the former arose, and ignoring her entirely, stepped forward to meet the old man, his hand extended.
“Good evening, sir,” he said affably. “Mr. Maxwell and I have a little business to discuss with you, if you can spare us a moment.”
Peter Jasko ignored the offered hand.
“I haven’t changed my mind since the last time we talked,” he said. “I’m not signing any lease!”
Penny scarcely heard the words for she was staring beyond Ralph Fergus at his overcoat which hung over the vacated chair. The garment was light brown and the top button, a large one of the same color, had been torn from the cloth.
Shifting her gaze, Penny glanced at Sara. The girl nodded her head slowly up and down. She, too, had made the important observation, and was thinking the same thought. There could be little doubt of it—Ralph Fergus was the man who had weakened the brake rod of their bob-sled!
CHAPTER 20
VISITORS
“May we see you alone, Mr. Jasko?” requested Ralph Fergus.
“I don’t reckon there’s any need for being so all-fired private,” the old man retorted, his hand on the doorknob. “If you want to talk with me speak your piece right out. I got to hitch up the team.”
Mr. Fergus and his companion, Harvey Maxwell, glanced coldly toward Penny who had sunk down into a chair and was massaging her ankle. They were reluctant to reveal their business before her but there was no other way.
“We can’t talk with you very well while you’re poised for flight, Mr. Jasko,” Ralph Fergus said placatingly. “My friend, Maxwell, has prepared a paper which he would like to have you look over.”
“I’m not signin’ anything!”
“Good for you, Grandfather!” muttered Sara under her breath.
The two men pretended not to hear. Mr. Maxwell took a folded document from his pocket and spread it out on the kitchen table.
“Will you just read this, please, Mr. Jasko? You’ll find our terms are more than generous.”
“I ain’t interested in your terms,” he snapped. “I’m aimin’ to keep every acre of my land.”
“We’re not asking you to sell, only to lease,” Mr. Fergus interposed smoothly. “Now we understand that your deal with Mrs. Downey has fallen through, so there’s no reason why you shouldn’t lease the ski slopes to us. We are prepared to offer you twice the amount she proposed to give you.”
Mr. Jasko stubbornly shook his head.
“You’re taking a very short-sighted attitude,” said Ralph Fergus, beginning to lose patience. “At least read the paper.”
“No.”
“Think what this would mean to your granddaughter,” interposed Harvey Maxwell. “Pretty clothes, school in the city perhaps—”
“Don’t listen to them, Grandfather,” spoke Sara quickly. “I have enough clothes. And Pine Top school suits me.”
“You’re wastin’ your time and mine,” said Peter Jasko. “I ain’t leasing my land to anybody.”
“We’re only asking you to sign a three-year lease—” Mr. Fergus argued.
“Can’t you understand plain language?” the old man cried. “You think money will buy everything, but you got another guess coming. I’ve seen enough skiing at Pine Top and I aim to put a stop to it!”
“It’s no use,” said Harvey Maxwell resignedly to his companion.
Ralph Fergus picked up the paper and thrust it into his overcoat pocket. “You’re an old fool, Jasko!” he muttered.
“Don’t you dare speak that way to my grandfather!”Sara cried, her eyes stormy. “You had your nerve coming here anyway, after that trick you tried!”
“Trick?”
“You deliberately weakened the brake rod of our bob-sled.”
Ralph Fergus laughed in the girl’s face. “You’re as touched as your grandfather,” he said.
“Perhaps you can explain what became of the top button of your overcoat,” suggested Penny coming to Sara’s support. “And don’t try to tell us it’s home in your sewing basket!”
Ralph Fergus’ hand groped at the vacant spot on his coat.
“What does a button have to do with the bob-sled accident?” inquired Harvey Maxwell.
“It happens that we found a large brown button in the tool house at the Downey lodge,” replied Penny. “Also a little additional evidence which rather suggests Mr. Fergus is the one who tampered with the bob-sled.”
“Ridiculous!” protested the hotel man. “I’ve not even been near Mrs. Downey’s lodge in weeks.”
“I know that’s a lie,” said Peter Jasko. “I saw you goin’ up that way Friday night.”
“And you went there to damage the bob-sled!”Sara accused. “You didn’t care how many persons might be injured in an accident!”
Ralph Fergus’ face was an angry red. “What reason would I have for doing anything like that?” he demanded.
“Guests were being drawn from your hotel because bob-sledding was increasing in popularity,” said Penny quietly. “Nothing would please you more than to put Mrs. Downey out of business.”
“Aren’t you drawing rather sweeping conclusions?” inquired Harvey Maxwell in an insolent tone. “A button isn’t very certain evidence. So many persons wear buttons, you know.”
“I lost this one from my coat weeks ago,” added Ralph Fergus.
“It was your button we found,” Sara accused.
Peter Jasko had been listening intently to the argument, taking little part in it. But now, with a quick movement which belied his age, he moved across the kitchen toward the gun
rack on the wall.
“Let’s be getting out of here,” muttered Harvey Maxwell.
He and Ralph Fergus both bolted out of the door. Their sudden flight delighted Sara who broke into a fit of laughter.
“Why don’t you shoot once or twice into the air just to give ’em a good fright?” she asked her grandfather.
The old man, shotgun in hand, had followed the two men to the door. But he did not shoot.
“Grandfather wouldn’t hurt a flea really,” chuckled Sara. “At least, not unless it was trying to make him sign something.”
“Ralph Fergus acted guilty, all right,” declared Penny, bending down to massage her injured ankle. “But it may have been a mistake for us to accuse him.”
“I couldn’t help it,” answered Sara. “When I saw that button missing from his coat, I had to say something about it.”
Peter Jasko put away his shotgun, turning once more to the door. “I’ll hitch up the team,” he said. “Sara, get some liniment and see what you can do for Miss Parker’s ankle.”
“Your ankle?” gasped Sara, staring at Penny. “Have you hurt yourself again?”
“I managed to fall into the ravine a few minutes ago. Your grandfather saved me.”
Sara darted to the stove to get a pan of warm water. She stripped off Penny’s woolen stockings and examined the foot as she soaked it.
“I suppose this will put me on the shelf for another day or so,” Penny observed gloomily. “But I’m lucky I didn’t break my neck.”
“The ankle is swollen,” Sara said, “I’ll wrap it with a bandage and that may make it feel better.”
With a practiced hand she wound strips of gauze and adhesive tape about the ankle.
“There, how does it feel now?”
“Much better,” said Penny. “Thanks a lot. I—I feel rather mean to put your grandfather to so much trouble, especially after the way I’ve crossed him.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about Grandfather,” laughed Sara. “He likes you, Penny.”
“He likes me?”
“I could tell by the way he acted tonight. He respects a person who stands up to him.”
“I said some rather unnecessary things,” Penny declared regretfully. “I was provoked because he wouldn’t sign a lease with Mrs. Downey. After hearing what he said to Fergus and Maxwell I realize nothing will sway him.”
The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels Page 25