The Long Chance

by Peter B. Kyne

  CHAPTER VII

  Early in the forenoon of the day following Bob McGraw's spectacularadvent into San Pasqual, the nurse for whom Doc Taylor had telephonedto Bakersfield arrived at the Hat Ranch. She proved to be a kindmiddle-aged woman, devoted to her profession and thoroughly competentto do everything for Bob McGraw that could be done. Her arrival releasedDonna from the care of watching the wounded man, and she rested at last.

  It was late in the afternoon before she appeared again in the sick room,when she was overjoyed to learn of the change in Bob's condition. Therewas no further hemorrhage from the wound, although his pulse was racingat several degrees above normal. He was awake when Donna entered theroom and greeted her with a weak smile of welcome. It may be that at themoment Mr. McGraw fondly hoped that he might be further rewarded withanother kiss; but if so he was disappointed. Donna favored him withnothing more tangible than a rather sad, wistful, interested scrutiny,and then, satisfied that he was making his fight, she turned to leavethe room, whereupon Mr. McGraw, disregarding his nurse's explicitinstructions, presumed to enter into conversation.

  "Hello, Donna," he whispered, "aren't you going to speak to a fellow?"

  Donna shook her head.

  "But I might die" he pleaded piteously. The nurse intervened.

  "Nobody's worried over that remote contingency," she retorted, "so donot endeavor to seek sympathy."

  He looked at her so tragically that she could not forbear a littlelaugh, as she ordered Donna to leave the room.

  "The right of free speech--and free assemblage," Mr. McGraw protestedhoarsely, "is guaranteed to--every American citizen--under the con--"

  "Silence!" commanded the nurse.

  Mr. McGraw muttered something about gag rule and the horror of beingmollycoddled, sighed dismally and predicted his death within the hour.Donna left the room and he was forced to amuse himself, until he fellasleep, watching the antics of an inquisitive lizard which in turn waswatching him from a crack in the sun-baked adobe wall. As for Donna, thevery fact that Bob was still a fighter and a rebel proved conclusivelythat within a week he would be absolutely unmanageable. This thought wasproductive of such joy in Donna's heart that she became a rebel herself.In the bright evening she took her guitar and went out into the patio,where she stood under Bob's window and sang for him a plaintive littleSpanish love song. Donna's voice, while untrained, was, nevertheless,well pitched, sweet and true, and to Bob McGraw, who for three years hadnot heard a woman's voice raised in song, the simple melody was a treatindeed.

  The nurse came out, looked at her and laughed, as who would not; for allthe world loves a lover, and the nurse was very human.

  "That's quite irregular, Miss Corblay," she commented, "but in thisparticular case I believe it has a soothing effect. Mr. McGraw haspromised me that he will be very good if I can induce you to sing forhim every evening. He said 'Bravo' three times."

  "Then he has decided not to die after all."

  "I think he has changed his mind."

  "I'll sing him to sleep" Donna answered--and forthwith did so. And thatnight, when she retired, she could not sleep herself for the happinessthat was hers; that excessive happiness which, more poignant than pain,is often productive of tears.

  The wounded man slept well that night. If he suffered nobody knew it.In the morning his condition was slightly improved, and after hearinga most cheerful and favorable report from both doctor and nurse, Donnadecided not to prejudice her position at the eating-house by stayingaway another day, and accordingly she set off up the track to the town.She was half-way there when she observed Harley P. Hennage walkingtoward her from the direction of the cemetery.

  "Well, Miss Donna," he began as he approached, "how are you after thebattle?"

  "Still a little shaky, Mr. Hennage, but not enough to prevent my goingto work. I can count change, to-day, I think."

  "Good news, good news. If I was governor of this state I'd declareto-day a legal holiday. How's the wounded hero? Able to sit up and takesome food?"

  "No, no food as yet. Nothing but nutriment. Who ever heard of a sick mangetting anything but that?"

  Mr. Hennage showed his three gold teeth. "Ain't Mrs. Pennycook beendown with a plate o' calf's-foot jelly or somethin' o' that nature?" heasked.

  It was Donna's turn to laugh. "I hardly think she'll come. She hasn'tgiven me a friendly look in three years."

  "Well, of course, you haven't needed her," the gambler reminded her,"but she'll be droppin' in before long, now--Bob McGraw's a stranger intown, an' entitled to the kindly services o' the community as a whole,so Mrs. P. can show up at the Hat Ranch under those conditions withoutunbendin' her dignity."

  "I suppose she is kind enough in her way," Donna began, "but--"

  "You don't like her way, eh?"

  "I'm afraid I'm inclined to be uncharitable at times."

  "Nonsense!" he corrected. "Ain't you been a' nursin' the sick?"

  "Yes. Which reminds me that you, also, have been performing one of theworks of mercy. You came from the cemetery, did you no?!"

  "Yes, I've been buryin' the dead. They had me as witness on thecoroner's jury last night, an' after the jury decided that it wasjustifiable homicide, there was nothin' to do but plant the three o''em--before the sun got too high. But let's take up some live topic--"

  Again Donna laughed, for while Harley P.'s humor was rather grim, Donnahad lived long enough in San Pasqual to appreciate it. The big gamblerloved to see her laugh, and the thought that she was courageous enoughto enjoy his jest, considering the terrible experience which she hadlately undergone, filled him with manly admiration.

  "It's another joke," he began presently, "only this time it's on SanPasqual. I want to put up a job on the town, an' you've got to help me,Miss Donna."

  Donna gave him a graceful travesty of a military salute.

  "'Onward, Heart of Bruce, and I will follow thee,'" she quoted. "Butbefore you explain your plans, tell me what has poor little San Pasqualbeen doing of late to earn your enmity?"

  "Nothin' much. The town ain't no worse than any other one-horse camp forwantin' to know everybody's business but its own. They never foundout any o' mine, though, you can bank on that; and it always hurt 'embecause they never found out any of your poor mother's when she waslivin'. An' since your trouble the other night, they're all itchin' tolearn the name o' the brave that saved you. Some o' the coroner's jurywas for callin' you to testify at the inquest, but considerin' the hardlooks o' the deceased an' what you told me--an' what Borax O'Rourke toldeverybody else before he left town yesterday, I prevailed on Doc Taylorto testify that you weren't in no fit frame o' mind to face the music,so they concluded to bring in a verdict _muy pronto,_ an' let it go atthat. They tell me there's been a plague o' hard characters droppin' offhere lately, an' anyway, to make a long story short, the boys rendereda verdict on general principles an' there ain't no news for the resto' the town--particularly the women. The way some o' them women's beendodgin' back and forth between their own homes and the post-office,you'd think it was the finish of a jack-rabbit drive. They're just plumb_loco,_ Miss Donna, to find out the name o' this gallant stranger thatsaved you. They want to know what he looks like, the color o' hishair an' how he parts it, how he ties his necktie, an' if he votes theRepublican ticket straight and believes in damnation for infants."

  "I see," said Donna, "and you want to let them suffer, do you?"

  "I wouldn't wag my tongue to save 'em" he retorted bitterly. "Now here'sthe programme. You've got young McGraw bottled up there at the HatRanch, and I want you to keep him there until he's able to walk awaywithout any assistance, an' all that time don't you let nobody seehim. I've got Doc Taylor fixed already, which was easy, Doc bein' abachelor--an' now if you stand in we'll have 'em goin' south. On accounto' bein' postmistress an' in a position to get all the news, the town'slookin' to Miss Pickett to produce, an' if she can't produce, I'm hopin'she'll go into convulsions."

  "Mr. Hennage," said Donna, "this is most unwort
hy of you. I didn't thinkyou would harbor a grudge."

  "Why, you know my reputation, Miss Donna."

  "Yes, you're the worst man in San Pasqual. But I'm afraid I can't agreeto enter into this conspiracy."

  "Why not?"

  "It's unlawful."

  "Miss Donna, I'm serious--"

  "It's cruel and unusual punishment--"

  "I'd light a fire under 'em" said Harley P. ferociously. "Better standin, Miss Donna--to oblige me."

  "All right, it's a go, if you put it that way."

  "Shake! You'll enjoy it, Miss Donna. You'll find yourself real popularwhen you get up to the hotel. Some o' the natives was thinkin' o'bringin' their blankets an' three days' rations, an' campin' in front o'the hotel until you arrived. Well, good-by, till supper-time. I'm goin'to breeze along down to the Hat Ranch an' warn the nurse agin spies an'secret emissaries masqueradin' as angels o' mercy."

  He waved his big hand at her and waddled down the track toward the HatRanch. Arrived there, he introduced himself to the nurse and made afew perfunctory inquiries regarding the condition of her patient, afterwhich, with many premonitory coughs, he ventured to outline his campaignas San Pasqual's official news censor. The nurse was not lacking in asense of humor, and readily agreed to enlist under the banner of HarleyP.

  "An' remember," he warned her, as he prepared to leave, "to look sharpif you see a forty-five-year-old damsel, with a little bright red face,all ears an' no chin, like the ace o' hearts. That'll be Miss Pickett.She'll have with her, like as not, a stout married lady, all gab an'gizzard, like a crow, an' a mouth like a new buttonhole. That'll be Mrs.Pennycook. Look out for 'em both. They talk!"

  And having played this unworthy trick on the gossips of San Pasqual,Mr. Hennage returned to town in a singularly cheerful state of mind, anddevoted the balance of the day to the duties of his profession.

  That night, when he went to his dinner at the eating-house, he stoppedat the counter to have a little chat with Donna.

  "What luck?" he asked.

  "I declare I'm almost exhausted. I've been dodging questions andtripping over hints all day long."

  "Miss Pickett come over to offer sympathy."

  "Yes."

  "Hu-u-um! An' after she went away, I suppose Mrs. Pennycook come in asthick as three in a bed?"

  "She was very nice."

  "She'd better be" he remarked, and Donna thought that beneath thejocularity of his manner she detected a menace.

  "What have you heard?" she queried.

  "I've heard," he replied deliberately, "that Donna Corblay is harboringa desperate character in her home."

  "I heard something else to-day. While we're gossiping, Mr. Hennage, I'lltell you the latest--the very latest. It's reported that Dan Pennycookis drinking."

  "No!" Mr. Hennage was concerned. He was fond of Dan Pennycook. "Who toldyou!" he inquired.

  "He was seen buying a bottle of port wine in the Silver Dollar saloonthis afternoon, and you know his wife is strictly temperance."

  "Oh, shucks! There's nothin' to that report. I can account for that justas easy as lookin' through a hoop. It's goin' to be wine jelly, afterall. I thought maybe it might be calf's-foot, but--" he broke off. "Iwish," he said earnestly, "I could get hold of a low-spirited billygoat, Miss Donna, an' tie him to your front gate when Mrs. P. arrives.You want to warn the nurse, Miss Donna. Remember what the old sharp inthe big book says: 'Beware o' the Greeks when they come into camp withgifts.' Hey, Josephine!"

  He hailed his waitress.

  "About twenty-five dollars' worth o' ham an' eggs," he ordered, "withsome pig's ear and cauliflower on the side. I ain't had such a bigappetite for my grub since I was a boy."

  That evening, when Donna left the eating-house for her home, it seemedto her that the Hat Ranch must be situated at least ten miles furtherfrom San Pasqual than it had been two days previous. It almost seemed asif she would never reach the gate that pierced the big seven-foot adobewall which shut Bob McGraw in from the prying eyes of the townspeople;she felt that her heart, over-burdened with its weight of agonizedhappiness, must break before she found herself once more standing byBob's bed, gazing down at him with a look of proprietorship and love.

  As she stood there, smiling, her face flushed from the exertion of herrapid walk, her jaunty straw hat casting little vagrant shadows acrossher great, dark, sparkling eyes, he awakened and looked up. She wasdrawing off her gloves, and one who has ridden in the waste placesas much as had Bob McGraw soon learns that simple signs are sometimespregnant of big things. The big thing, as Bob read it then, was the factthat she had just come home; that she had hurried, for she was breathinghard. Why had she hurried? Why, to see him, Bob McGraw--and in such ahurry was she that she had not waited to remove her hat and gloves. Thiswas all very gratifying; so gratifying that Mr. McGraw would almost, atthat moment, have welcomed a .45 through his other lung, if thereby hecould only make her understand how deeply gratified he really was--howdearly he loved her and would continue to love her. He was so filledwith such thoughts as these that he continued to gaze at her in silencefor fully a minute before he spoke.

  "It's been a long, hot day" he whispered. "I worried. Thought you mightbe kept--late--again."

  The adorable old muggins! The very thought of having somebody to worryover her was so very new to Donna, and so very sweet withal, that she_called_ Mr. McGraw an adorable old muggins, and pinched the lobe ofhis left ear, and tweaked the sunburned apex of his Irish nose. Then shekissed the places thus pinched and tweaked, and declared that she washappy enough to--to--to _swear!_ "I understand--perfectly" said BobMcGraw, and there is no doubt that he did. The idea of a glorious youngWoman like Donna swearing was, indeed, perfectly ridiculous. Of course,nerve-racked tired waitresses and be-deviled chefs "cussed each otherout" as a regular thing up at the eating-house during a rush, and Donna,having listened to these conversational sparks, off and on, forthree years, felt now, for the first time, as she imagined they mustfeel--that the unusual commotion in one's soul occasionally demands someextraordinary outlet.

  "I could beat Soft Wind with the broom, or tip over the stove, or dosomething equally desperate" she told him. "I feel so deeply--it hurtsme--here," and she pressed her hand to her heart.

  "Think of me," he whispered, "hurt on--both sides. Bullet--holein--right lung--key-hole in--my heart."

  The blarney of the wretch! Really, this McGraw man was the most forwardperson! As if he could ever, by any possibility, love her as she lovedhim!

  "You great red angel" she said. Then she ruffled his hair and fled outto the kitchen to investigate the exact nature of the savory concoctionwhich the nurse was preparing for her invalid. No royal chef,safe-guarding the stomach of his monarch against the surreptitiousintroduction of a deadly poison in the soup, could have evinced agreater interest in the royal appetite than did Donna in Bob McGraw'sthat night. As the nurse was about to take the bowl of broth which shehad prepared, in to her patient, Donna dipped up a small quantity on ateaspoon and tasted it.

  "A little more salt, I think" she announced, with all the gravity of hertwenty years.

  The nurse glanced at her for a moment, before she took her glowingface between her cool palms and kissed the girl on each cheek. Then shereached for the salt cellar, dropped a small pinch into the soup, seizedthe tray and marched out, smiling. She was one of the women on thisearth who can understand without asking--at least Donna thought so, andwas grateful to her for it.

  The three weeks that followed, while Bob McGraw, having battled his waythrough the attack of traumatic pneumonia incident to the wound in hislungs, slowly got back his strength, seemed, indeed, the most marvelousperiod of Donna Corblay's entire existence. On the morning after herconversation with Harley P., Mrs. Pennycook, true to the gambler'sprediction, did favor the Hat Ranch with her bustling presence, andwrapped in a snow-white napkin the said Mrs. Pennycook did carry thehereinbefore mentioned glass of wine jelly for the debilitated strangerin their midst. Donna was at the e
ating-house when Mrs. Pennycookcalled, but the nurse received her--not, however, without an inwardchuckle as she recalled Mr. Hennage's warning and discovered that Mrs.Pennycook's mouth did really resemble a new buttonhole--as the mouthof every respectable, self-righteous, provincial female bigot has hada habit of resembling even as far back as the days of the Salemwitchcraft.

  For her wine jelly, Mrs. Pennycook received due and courteous thanksfrom the nurse personally, and also on behalf of Miss Corblay and thepatient. To her apparently irrelevant and impersonal queries, regardingthe identity of the wounded man, his personal and family history, Mrs.Pennycook received equally irrelevant and impersonal replies, and whenshe suggested at length that she "would dearly love to see him for amoment--only a moment, mind you--to thank him for what he had done forthat dear sweet girl, Donna Corblay," the nurse found instant defensefrom the invasions by reminding Mrs. Pennycook of the doctor's ordersthat his patient be permitted to remain undisturbed.

  Two days later Mrs. Pennycook, accompanied by Miss Pickett, calledagain. Miss Pickett carried the limp carcass of a juvenile chicken, andarmed with this passport to Bob McGraw's heart and confidence, she too,endeavored to run the guard. Alas! The young man was still in a veryprecarious condition, and baffled and discouraged, the charitable pairdeparted in profound disgust.

  The next day Dan Pennycook called, at Mrs. Pennycook's orders. Theyardmaster, as he bowed to the nurse and ventured a mild inquiry as tothe patient's health, presented a remarkable imitation of a heretoforeconscientious dog that has just been discovered in the act of killinga sheep. Poor Daniel was easy prey for the efficient nurse. He retired,chop-fallen and ashamed, and the day following, two conductor's wivesand the sister of a brakeman, armed respectively with a brace ofquail, a bouquet of assorted sweet peas and half a dozen oranges, came,deposited their offerings, were duly thanked and dismissed.

  To all these interested ladies, Donna, at the suggestion of Harley P.(who, by the way, fell heir to the brace of quail, which he had preparedby the eating-house chef, and later consumed with great gusto), wrotea polite note of thanks. This, of course merely served to irritate analready irritated community, without affording them an opportunity forwhat Mr. Hennage termed "a social comeback." He contracted the habit,during that first week, of coming in to his dinner earlier, in orderthat he might hear from Donna a detailed report of the frantic effortsof her neighbors to get at the bottom of the mystery. Mr. Hennage wasenjoying himself immensely.

  After the first week had passed without developments, interest in Donnaand her affairs began to dwindle, for not infrequently matters movein kaleidoscopic fashion in San Pasqual, and the population, generallyspeaking, soon finds itself absorbed in other and more importantmatters. Mrs. Pennycook was quick to note that Donna (to quote Mr.Hennage) was "next to her game," and with the gambler's threat hangingover her she was careful to refrain from expressing any decided opinionsin the little circle in which she moved.

  At the end of the second week the news that development work wasprojected somewhere near the town, doubtless by some syndicatewhose operations were so extensive that the work would likely mean aconstruction camp conveniently near, swept the Bob McGraw-Donna Corblayepisode completely aside. Rumor, fanned by the eager desires of thebusiness element of the hamlet, gained headway, despite the fact thatfalse rumor was all too frequent a visitor to San Pasqual, until notmore than half a dozen people in the town remembered that Donna Corblayhad had an adventure, the details of which they had failed to unearth.

  During those three weeks of convalescence, Bob McGraw's splendidcondition, due to his clean and hardy life on the range and desert,caused him to rally with surprising rapidity from his dangerous wound.At the end of ten days he was permitted to sit up in bed and talkfreely, and a few days later with the assistance of the nurse and SamSinger he was lifted into a chair and spent a glorious day sitting inthe sun in the wind-protected patio. The slight cough which had troubledhim at first commenced to disappear, proving that the wound was healingfrom within, and the doctor announced that at the end of a month Bobwould be able to leave the house.

  As the reader may have had cause to suspect earlier in this recital,Bob McGraw was not the young man to permit the grass to sprout under hisfeet in the matter of a courtship. The brief period each evening whichhe and Donna spent together served to convince each that life withoutthe other would not be worth the living. Their wooing was dignifiedand purposeful; their love was too pure and deep to be taken lightlyor tinged with the frivolity that too often accompanies an ardent loveaffair between two young people who have not learned, as had Bob andDonna, to view life seriously. Both were graduates of the hard schoolof practicalities, and early in life each had learned the valueof self-reliance and the wisdom of thinking clearly and withoutself-illusion.

  The last week of Bob's stay at the Hat Ranch, under the chaperonage ofthe nurse, was not spent in planning for the future, for the lovers didnot look beyond the reality of their new-found happiness. True, Bobhad tried it once or twice, during the long hot days in the patio whilewaiting for Donna to return from her work, but the knowledge of hisinability to support a wife, the present desperate condition of hisfinances and the unsettled state of his future plans, promptlysaturated his soul in a melancholy which only the arrival of Donna coulddissipate. As for Donna, like most women, she was content to linger inthat delightful state of bliss which precedes marriage. Never havingknown real happiness before, she was, for the present at least,incapable of imagining a more profound joy than walking arm in arm inthe moonlit patio with the man she loved. Without the adobe walls, thezephyr lashed the sage and whirled the sand with fiendish disregard ofhuman happiness, but within the Hat Ranch enclosure Donna Corblay knewthat she had found a paradise, and she was content.