THE SEARCH
Burnett wiped his hand across his eyes to efface the vision which so
unexpectedly impeded his official progress. It was the sight of a girl,
nestled on a cot, and over the pillow upon which her head rested was
strewn in a wild, magnificent disarray, a profusion of tawny curls, such
as he never had seen. For a moment the corpulent deputy from Auburn, the
terror of all the criminals in the country around, forgot his delegated
obligation to the state. Tessibel Skinner's two slender arms huddled a
small, speckled hoot owl; and as in a dream, Burnett noted the girl's
red lips touched the bird affectionately in a hasty little caress.
Another thing he noted was the unflinching and prolonged questioning
glance with which the red-brown eyes met his. Tess couldn't speak a word
at first, now that she was actually face to face with the man after
Andy. He was even sterner than she had imagined he would be.
Quite gravely she considered his big frame from head to foot, took hasty
account of the firm setting of his jaw, and the deep, clean-cut lines
from his eyes to his chin. Then, she smiled a rare, enchanting smile,
the deepening dimples around the red moist lips suffusing the deputy
warden with a warm, welcoming glow.
"I heard ye talkin' to Daddy, mister," she said, gulping. "I air awful
glad ye came in to see me too. I'd a been hurt if ye'd gone without my
gettin' a peep at ye."
During each infinitesimal space of time, Burnett stood in the sunshine
of Tessibel's smile, his austere churlishness was slipping from him like
a loosened garment. As if forced by an unseen hand, he took one step
nearer her.
"Set down, sir," invited Tess, clutching the owl with one hand, and
making an elaborate sweep with the other. "That air Daddy's chair--ye
air awful handsome and big, but the chair'll hold ye all right."
Burnett caught his breath and sank into the indicated seat. He'd
intended to turn that shanty over from top to bottom, to rip it almost
to the ground. But the sight of the red-headed sprite on the cot
fondling a woodland owl, and the effect of her smile upon the beating of
his heart, dissolved his rage and stayed his action.
"Well, I'll be damned!" was all he said, and Tess smiled again. She
didn't mind if he swore. The one thing she desired was to get rid of him
as soon as possible. She was conscious of the gyrations of Andy Bishop
curled in the straw under her slender body, and she knew her curls were
shrouding a face distorted with anxiety.
"Are you sick, kid?" questioned Burnett, when he could draw a natural
breath.
"Well, ye see," acknowledged Tess, "I ain't 'xactly sick, but I got my
ankle all packed up. Sometimes girls hurt their ankles an' they have to
put a rag 'round 'em."
Tessibel was very careful not to say she'd hurt hers in this explanation
to Burnett's question.
"An' then ye see, sir," she pursued, "if ye turn yer foot over an' can't
walk, ye have to go to bed a spell, huh?"
"Well, I should say so!" asseverated Burnett, mustering the manner he
always used with ladies. "Say, by George, I didn't know Orn Skinner had
a pretty kid like you."
"My, didn't ye?" gurgled Tess, with shy lids drooping and her color
mounting. "I thought everybody in the hull world knew I were Daddy's
brat. He air had me fer ever so long. I been growed up for a lot of
years." She shifted the owl in her arms. "This owl air named Deacon....
Want to pet 'im a minute, huh?"
The warden threw back his head and roared. He felt as if he'd been hung
up for days by the thumbs--that this girl had mercifully cut the ropes
and let him down once more to peace and happiness.
"No, thanks, I'll let you keep your pet," he laughed good-humoredly.
"Queer play fellow for a girl, that's my opinion."
After a few more compliments, through which Tessibel flirted her way
into the big man's regard, the officer rose to his feet.
"Little lady, I came here for a specific reason," he announced.
Unquenchable mischief shone upon him from smiling, enquiring eyes.
"Oh," giggled Tess, "anyway, I air awful glad ye come."
The grim lips of the deputy curled upward again. Tess adored his mouth
twisted at the corners like that.
"I might as well get it over first as last," ventured Burnett. "But I'm
more'n anxious you shouldn't be mad at me. The fact is we've traced a
man down from Auburn--"
Tessibel interrupted him, startled; at least she acted so.
"From Auburn!" she gasped.
"Yes, ma'am, a murderer! Andy Bishop. Little man like this," the warden
explained, measuring a short space from the floor. "By some means or
other he wriggled his way out of prison--"
Tessibel's lips trembled and she turned her eyes away. Old memories
rushed over her, memories of the cold winter when she'd been alone in
the shack.
"An' ye thought 'cause Daddy'd been up there once, the man must a run
right straight here, huh?" she accused, with a sob in her voice.
"Well, I'll admit till I saw you I thought--I thought, but now--," a
negative gesture with his hand finished his answer.
Tessibel turned withering, tear-wet eyes on her visitor.
"I 'spose ye air thinkin' my Daddy even had something to do with his
flyin' the coop?" she flared up. "Air that it?"
"No! No! I didn't think that at all," the under-warden made haste to
deny. "I just couldn't think that about _your_ father."
Tessibel dimpled, suddenly glowing like a vivid poppy.
"Thank ye," she whispered, wiping away the tears. "Why! My Daddy
wouldn't do nothin' bad for anythin' in the world. He's the best old
Daddy livin'."
"Of course he is," vouched the warden, placatingly, "but what I want to
know is would you mind, or would it hurt your feelings--The fact is, I
came to search this house."
Tess had expected this, and without demurring, flashed forth,
"Ye mean ye want to go 'round it, don't ye, lookin' in all the corners
an' places; air that it, sir?"
Burnett acknowledged this by a nod.
"Sure, search it if ye want to, I don't mind. Ye'll 'scuse me not
gettin' up, won't ye? There ain't much to search, but ye can go in the
garret if ye want to. It air only a cubby hole; even the weest man in
the hull world couldn't stand up in it."
Andy stirred perceptibly beneath her.
"Then there air Daddy's room," Tess continued, "an' this room air the
kitchen an' the dinin' room an' the parlor, an' all the other rooms....
An'--an' it air my room, too."
"My God, but you're a cute kid!" he chuckled.
Tessibel's laugh rang out deliciously fresh and free, and Burnett caught
it up and sent it back in one loud guffaw. Then the girl lifted one of
her curls and spread it out to its extreme length. Tess had been born
possessing all the arts of her sex, and used them effectively, upon an
occasion like this.
"I wish my ankle wasn't wrapped up," she smiled hospitably. "I'd show ye
'round the shanty myself. Ye noticed the hedge when ye come in, didn't
ye? Well--I planted that an' all the flowers--and this owl belongs to me
an' I keep 'im in the garret,--an'--I almost got a dog once, but not
quite! Job Kennedy owns 'im, an his name air Pete, but he likes to live
here better'n he does to Job's." Tess gasped for breath and flushed
rosily. "But I air keepin' ye, sir," she excused, "an I mustn't do that.
You go on and look in Daddy Skinner's room an'--then ye go up in the
garret, an' then ye can look behind the chairs an' behind the stove, an'
ye can look under the bed--"
She paused dramatically and held up a warning finger.
"Please don't scare none of my bats nor my uther owls in the garret.
They be awful nice bats an' awful nice owls too! Ye wouldn't hurt 'em,
would ye, mister?"
"I won't do anything you don't want me to, kid," the infatuated man
promised. "Honest, I won't search the house if you say not."
"Oh, sure, search it," insisted Tess. "Then ye'll be pretty sure there
ain't nobody hidin' 'round."
Burnett walked toward Daddy Skinner's room.
"I wouldn't mind havin' a daughter like you," he vowed, looking back. "I
got two nice boys to home, but I tell you a man misses a lot in the
world, if he doesn't have a girl. Why, kiddie, I've had a better time in
the past five minutes than I've had in the past five years." He paused,
his hand on the latch of the door into Daddy Skinner's room.
Tessibel gurgled and giggled, and giggled and gurgled, as if she hadn't
a care in the world although she felt a paralyzing pain in her heart for
the dwarf beneath her. Then she threw a mischievous glance into the
man's face and offered,
"While ye air searchin' the shanty, I'll sing to ye, huh?"
"Now, can ye sing?" interrogated Burnett, smilingly.
"Oh, Golly, sir, I been singin' since I weren't no bigger'n this owl,"
replied Tess. "I'll begin now."
She knew Andy must be numb with fright and the weight of her body, and
remembered how many times when he had been kept in the garret long
periods together, while people were coming and going, and danger ran
high, she had sung to him--it had soothed his pains, allayed his agony.
So as Burnett disappeared from sight into the little back room, Tessibel
began to sing the old, but ever newly encouraging song,
"Rescue the Perishin';
Care for the Dyin'."
And in the fleeting moment during which the officer from Auburn was
searching Daddy's room, her hand went backward quickly and reassuring
fingers touched the dwarf's face concealed by her curls, and still she
sang,
"Rescue the Perishin';
Care for the Dyin'."
Then Tess felt Andy's body relax and heard the faintest possible sigh.
When Burnett came forth unsuccessful but cheerful, her fingers were
toying with her curls, and she broke off her song, question him with her
eyes.
"There ain't a soul in there," laughed the man. "I might a'known Bishop
wasn't around here; in fact, I did know it the minute I looked at you,
kid. Now, just as a matter of law and order, I'll take a peep in the
garret and under the bed, and then I'm done ... Say, you got some voice,
ain't you, kid?"
"It can holler good and loud," grinned Tess.
"And you're some religious, I bet, according to the hymn you've been
singin'," went on the warden. "Now ain't you?"
Tess sobered instantly. She was always very careful not to be irreverent
about sacred things.
"You can bet your boots, I air some _awful_ religious," she acquisced
earnestly. "I've knowed about God and Jesus ever so long."
"That's nice," responded Burnett, becoming grave in his turn.
Oh, would he never go! Would he never finish?
When Burnett walked toward the ladder, she sighed dolefully.
"Does your foot hurt you, kid?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.
"Nope," faltered Tess. "I guess I were a thinkin' what'd happen to the
little man when ye get 'im."
The warden was trying the strength of the ladder.
"Oh, I'll hike him back up state quicker'n scat when I get my fingers on
'im," said he, his head disappearing in the hole in the ceiling.
In less than thirty seconds he was down again and had taken a squint
under the bed.
"There isn't any dwarf under there either," he said, amusement in his
tones. He stretched forth his hand, reaching down to the girl on the
cot.
"Now, don't hold nothing against me, kiddie, for comin' here, will ye?
Just shake hands with a feller and say it's all right, eh?"
Tessibel lifted the owl high in the air and opened her fingers. There
was a small ghostly flutter and in another instant Deacon had
disappeared into the garret.
She gave the warden both her hands, and for the little minute Burnett
stood by the bed holding them in his and assuring her of his good will.
Tessibel sent up a prayer of thanksgiving. Her little Andy, Daddy
Skinner's friend, was saved!
When Burnett reached the door, he looked back at her. The girl's lips
were parted in a brilliant, farewell smile. He whirled about and came
toward her again.
"Kid," he said huskily, "I'm a hard-headed old cuss, harder'n brass
tacks. I been made so by just such men as Andy Bishop--" He paused, and
during his short hesitation, pregnant with meaning, Tessibel kept her
eyes on him. "I was wonderin', little one," he finished, shame-faced,
"when you say your prayers, if you'd pipe one for me. I need it, so help
me God, I do."
In another moment he was at the door, and in response to the hasty
glance he sent her, Tess flung him a misty, loving smile.
"Sure, sir, sure I will," she called, "an' thank ye for bein' so kind."
Burnett strode out; Tessibel rolled off the dwarf's body to one side of
the cot, and Andy gave an audible grunt.
"I air gee-danged glad that air over," sighed Tess. And as she lay very
still, the warden's hearty voice came floating to her.
"That's a mighty fine girl you got, Skinner."
Tess also heard her father's husky reply. "Bet yer life, she air....
Good day to ye, sir."
Shortly after, the anxious listeners in the shanty heard the click of
the horse's shoes and the rumble of the departing wheels on the stones
amid the wagon's creaking complaints against the steepness of the hill.