Mary V wadded a soft cushion under the nape of her neck, looked again
at Johnny sprawled in her dad's pet chair and smoking a cigarette after
a very ample meal that had been served him half-way between dinner and
supper, and stifled a sigh. Johnny was alive and well and full of
enthusiasm as ever. He had just finished telling her all the wonderful
things he could do and would do with his airplane, and the earnings he
had hopefully mentioned ran into thousands of dollars, and left a nice
marrying balance after her father's debt was paid. Yet Mary V felt a
heaviness in her heart, and though she listened to all the wonderful
things Johnny meant to do, she could not feel that they were really
possible.
Something else troubled Mary V, but just now, with Johnny there before
her almost like one risen from the grave, she dreaded to recognize the
thing that shadowed the back of her mind. Johnny turned his head and
looked at her, and she forced a smile that held so little joy that even
Johnny was perturbed.
"What's the matter? Don't you believe I can do it?" he challenged her
instantly. "There's no reason why I can't. It's being done all the
time. Other flyers make as much money as your dad makes here on the
ranch. And--you know yourself, Mary V, I couldn't settle down and be
just a rider again. Fighting bronks is too tame, now--too slow. I'll
have to make a flyer of you, Mary V, and then you'll know--"
Mary V suddenly buried her face in a cushion. Johnny heard a smothered
sob and got up, looking very much astonished and perturbed. With a
glance over his shoulder to make sure no one saw him, ho put an arm
awkwardly around her shaking shoulders.
"If you don't want to fly, you needn't," he reassured her. "I didn't
mean you had to. I only meant--"
"It--it isn't that at all," Mary V managed to enunciate more or less
clearly. "But we've been simply crazy, worrying about you and thinking
all kinds of horrible things, and--"
"Well, but I'm all right, you see, so you don't need to worry any more.
I was all right all the time, if you had only known it. You don't want
to let that give you a prejudice against flying. It's just as safe as
riding bronks."
"It--it isn't the safeness." Mary V choked back a sob and wiped her
eyes. "But you don't seem to take it seriously at all!"
"Now, you know I do! It's the most serious thing in my whole
life---except you, of course. And you know--"
"I don't mean that!" Mary Y gave a small stamp with her slipper toe on
the porch floor, thereby proving how swiftly her resilient young self
was coming back to a normal condition after the strain of the past
forty-eight hours. "You ought to know what I mean."
Johnny sat down again and looked at her with his eyebrows pulled
together. Mary V had always been more or less puzzling in her swift
changes of mood, wherefore this sudden change in her did not greatly
surprise him.
"Well, what do you mean, then?" he asked patiently. "Seems to me I've
been taking everything too seriously to suit you, till just this
minute. I've been pretty serious, let me tell you, about making good,
and now I can see my way clear for the first time since all those
horses were run off right under my nose, while I was busy with my
airplane, getting it in shape to fly. You've been after me all the
time because I couldn't let things slide. Don't you think, Mary V,
you're kinda changeable?"
Mary V gave him a quick, intent look and bit her lower lip. "I only
wish I could change you a little bit," she retorted. "I don't want to
be disagreeable, Johnny, after you were given up for lost and
everything, and then turned out to be all right. But that's just the
trouble! You--"
"The trouble is that I wasn't killed? Good golly!"
"No, I don't mean that at all. But we thought you were, and everybody
in the country was simply frantic, and you weren't even--"
"Huh!" Johnny got up, plainly hesitating between dignified retreat and
another profitless argument with Mary V. Another, because his
acquaintance with her had been one long series of arguments, it seemed
to him; and profitless, because Mary V simply would not be logical, or
ever stick to one contention, but instead would change her attack in
the most bewildering manner.
"I'm very sorry," he said stiffly, "that the whole country was frantic
without due cause. But I never asked them to take it upon themselves
to get all fussed up because I happened to be late for my meals. I was
foolish enough to take it for granted that a man has a right to go
about his business without asking permission of the general public. I
didn't know the public had my welfare on its mind like that. I'll have
to call a meeting after this, I reckon, and put it to vote whether I
can please go up in my little airplane. Or maybe the public will pass
the hat around and buy a string to tie on to me, so I can't get too far
away. Then they can take turns holding the string and pull me down
when they think I've been up long enough! Darned boobs--what did they
want to get up searching parties for? Couldn't they find anything else
to do, for gosh sake?"
"Why, Johnny Jewel!" Righteous indignation brought Mary V to her feet,
trembling a little but with the undaunted spirit of her fighting
forebears shining in her eyes. "Johnny Jewel, you silly, ungrateful
boy! What if you had been hurt somewhere? You'd have been glad enough
then for the public to take some interest in you, I guess!"
"Well, but I wasn't hurt," Johnny reiterated with his mouth set
stubbornly. "They had to go and worry the life outa you, Mary
V--that's what I'm kicking about. They--"
Mary V gazed at him strangely. "But you see, Johnny, it was I who
worried the life out of them! When you didn't come, I got dad started,
and then I 'phoned the sheriff and offered a reward and big pay and
everything, to get men out. All the sheriff's men will get twenty-five
dollars a day, Johnny, for hunting you. And there was a reward and
everything. So don't blame the public for taking an interest in
whether you were killed or not. Blame me, Johnny--and dad, and the
boys that have been riding day and night to find you."
Johnny reddened. "Well, I appreciate it, of course, Mary V--but I
don't see why you should think--"
"Because, Johnny, you didn't come the next morning after I told you to
come. And the hotel clerk found your plane was gone, so--"
"But I never said I'd come. I told you I wouldn't come to the ranch
till I had the money to square up with your dad. I meant it--just
that. You must have known I wasn't talking just to be using the
telephone."
"But you knew I expected you just the same. And how could I know--how
could I _dream_, Johnny, that instead of coming or letting me know, or
anything, you would take up with that perfectly horrible Bland Halliday
again, and go off in the opposite direction, and be gone three whole
days without a word? I'm sure I wouldn't have believed it possible
you'd do a thing like that, Johnny. I--I can't believe it now. It--it
seems almost worse than if you had started for the ranch and--"
"Got killed on the way, I suppose! I like that. I must say, I like
that, Mary VI You'd rather have me with my neck broken than not doing
exactly as you say. Is that it?"
Mary V set her teeth together until she had herself under control,
which, had you known the girl, would have meant a great deal. For Mary
V was not much given to guarding her tongue.
"Johnny, tell me this: After knowing Bland Halliday as you do, and
after knowing what I think of him, and what he tried to do down there
at Sinkhole when he was going to steal your airplane and fly off with
it, _why_ have you taken up with him again, without one word to me
about it? And why didn't you take the time and the trouble to call me
up and say what you were going to do, when you knew that I'd be looking
for you? I hate to say it, Johnny, but it does look as though you
didn't care one bit about me or what I'd think, or anything. You've
just gone crazy on the subject of flying, and that Bland Halliday is
just working you, Johnny, for an easy mark. You think it's pride
that's holding you back from taking dad's offer and staying here and
settling down. But it isn't that at all, Johnny. It's just plain
conceit and swell-headedness, and I hate to tell you this, but it's the
truth.
"That airplane has simply gone to your head and you can't look at
anything sensibly any more. If you could, you'd have _kicked_ that
miserable Bland Halliday when he came sneaking around--wanting money
and a square meal, and you needn't deny it, Johnny. But no, instead of
taking the chance that's given you to make good, you turn up your nose
at it because it isn't spectacular enough to keep you in the limelight
as the original Boy Wonder! And you--you take that crook, that tramp,
that--that _bum_ as a partner, and imagine you're going to do wonderful
things and get rich and everything! And you won't do anything except
give that tramp a chance to steal you blind!"
"I didn't say I'd taken Bland as a partner. But I may do it, at
that--if my judgment approves of the deal."
"Your judgment! Johnny Jewel, you haven't got any more judgment than a
cat!"
This was putting it rather strongly, since Mary V had fully intended to
guard her tongue, being careful not to antagonize him. That heady
young man now stood glaring at her in a thoroughly antagonistic manner.
Speech trembled on his lips that would not formulate the scathing
rebuke surging within his mind. He had been called conceited,
swell-headed, inconsiderate of others, and now this final insult was
heaped upon the full measure of his wrongs, just when he had a clear
vision of future achievements that should have dazzled any young woman
whose life was to be linked with his. But Mary V, he reminded himself,
could not look beyond her own little desires and whims. Because she
had tried to lay down the law for him and he had failed to obey, she
refused to see that he was playing for big stakes and that he could not
be expected to throw everything up just because she had been worried
over him for a couple of days. The mere fact that he had not been lost
on the desert, as every one supposed he was, could not affect his plans
for the future, though Mary V seemed to think that it should.
"Well, since that is the way you feel toward me, I may as well drift,"
he made belated retort in a tone of suppressed wrath. "I guess it
would have been better if I'd stayed away, I'll remember--"
"For gracious _sake_, what does make you so horrid?" Mary V now had
one arm crooked around his neck, which he stiffened stubbornly. With
her other hand she was tweaking his ears rather painfully. "You're
going to stay right here and behave yourself till dad comes, and you're
going to have a talk with him about your affairs before you go doing
anything silly. You know perfectly well that my father's advice is
worth something. Everybody in the country thinks he has a wonderful
brain when it comes to business or anything like that. He can tell you
what you ought to do, Johnny, if you'll only be sensible and listen to
him."
"What do I want to listen to him for?" Johnny's eyes looked down at
her with no softening of his anger. "Good golly! Do you think your
dad's got the only brain in the world? How do men run their affairs,
and get rich, that never heard of him, do you suppose? I don't want to
mock your dad--he's all right in his own field, and a smart man and all
that. But he don't know the flying game, and his advice wouldn't be
worth the breath he'd use giving it. Perhaps I am conceited and
swell-headed and a few other things, but I am perfectly willing to take
a chance on my own judgment for awhile yet, anyway. When I do need
advice, I'll know where to go."
"To Bland Halliday, I suppose!" Mary V took away her arm and stood
back from him. "You'd take a tramp's advice before you would my
father's, would you?" She pressed her lips together, seeming to hold
back with difficulty a storm of reproaches.
"I would, where flying is concerned." Johnny's lips spelled anger to
match her own. "He knows the game, and your father doesn't. And just
because Bland's playing hard luck is no reason why you need call him
names. Give the devil his due, anyway."
"I just perfectly ache to do it!" cried Mary V. "He wouldn't be
talking you into all kinds of crazy things--"
"Crazy because they don't happen to appeal to you," Johnny flung back.
"Oh, well, what's the use of talking? You don't seem to get the right
angle on things, is all." He busied himself with a cigarette, his
face, that had been so boyishly eager while he told her his plan, gone
gloomy with the self-pity of one who feels himself misunderstood.
Mary V had gone back to her hammock and was lying with one arm thrown
up across the cushion, her face concealed behind it. She, too, felt
miserably misunderstood. Flighty she was, spoiled and impulsive, but
beneath it all she had her father's practical strain of hard sense.
Mary V had grown older in the past three days. She had faced some
bitter possibilities and had done a good deal of sober thinking. She
felt now that Johnny was carried away by the fascination of flying, and
that Bland's companionship was the worst thing in the world for him.
She was hurt at Johnny's lack of consideration for her, at his complete
absorption in himself and his own plans. She wanted him to "settle
down," and be content with loving her and with being loved--to be
satisfied with prosperity that carried no element of danger.
Moreover, that he had not troubled to send her any message but had
deliberately gone flying off in the opposite direction with Bland,
regardless of what she might think or suffer, filled her with something
more bitter than mere girlish resentment. Johnny was like one under a
spell, hypnotized by his own air castles and believing them very real.
Mary V had no faith in his dreams, and not even to please Johnny would
she pretend that she had. She had nothing but impatience for his
plans, nothing but disgust for his partner, nothing but disappointment
from his visit. She moved her arm so that she could look at him, and
wondered why it should give her no pleasure to see him standing there
unharmed, sturdy, alive to his finger tips--him whom she had but a
little while ago believed dead. Johnny, I must confess, was cot a
cheerful object. He was scowling, with his face turned so that Mary V
saw only his sullen profile; with his mouth pinched in at the corners
and his chin set in the lines of stubbornness.
As if he felt her eyes upon him, Johnny turned and sent her a look not
calculated to be conciliating. If Mary V wanted to sulk, he'd give her
a chance. He certainly could not throw up all his plans just on her
whim.
"I guess I'll go down and help Bland," he said in the repressed tone of
anger forcing itself to be civil. "We ought to be getting back
to-night." He opened the screen door, gave her another look, and went
off toward the corral, sulks written all over him.
Mary V waited until she was sure he did not mean to turn back, then
went off to her room, shut the door with a force that vibrated the
whole house, and turned the key in the lock.