CLAY PLAYS SECOND FIDDLE
Johnnie felt that Kitty's farewell dinner had gone very well. It was
her first essay as a hostess, and all of them had enjoyed themselves.
But, so far as he could see, it had not achieved the results for which
they had been hoping.
Clay came home late and next morning was full of plans about leaving.
He discussed the packing and train schedules and affairs at the
B-in-a-Box. But of Beatrice Whitford he made not even a casual mention.
"Two more days and we'll hit the trail for good old Tucson," he said
cheerfully.
"Y'betcha, by jollies," agreed his bandy-legged shadow.
None the less Johnnie was distressed. He believed that his friend was
concealing an aching heart beneath all this attention to impending
details. As a Benedict he considered it his duty to help the rest of
the world get married too. A bachelor was a boob. He didn't know what
was best for him. Same way with a girl. Clay was fond of Miss
Beatrice, and she thought a heap of him. You couldn't fool Johnnie.
No, sirree! Well, then?
Mooning on the sad plight of these two friends who were too coy or too
perverse to know what was best for them, Johnnie suddenly slapped
himself a whack on the thigh. A brilliant idea had flashed into his
cranium. It proceeded to grow until he was like to burst with it.
When Lindsay rose from breakfast he was mysteriously beckoned into
another room. Johnnie outlined sketchily and with a good deal of
hesitation what he had in mind. Clay's eyes danced with that spark of
mischief his friends had learned to recognize as a danger signal.
"You're some sure-enough wizard, Johnnie," he admitted. "I expect
you're right about girls not knowin' their own minds. You've had more
experience with women than I have. If you say the proper thing to do
is to abduct Miss Whitford and take her with us, why--"
"That's whatever. She likes you a heap more than she lets on to you.
O' course it would be different if I wasn't married, but Kitty she can
chaperoon Miss Beatrice. It'll be all accordin' to Hoyle."
The cattleman gazed at the puncher admiringly. "Don't rush me off my
feet, old-timer," he said gayly. "Gimme a coupla hours to think of it,
and I'll let you know what I'll do. This is real sudden, Johnnie. You
must 'a' been a terror with the ladies when you was a bachelor. Me, I
never kidnaped one before."
"Onct in a while you got to play like you're gonna treat 'em rough,"
said Mr. Green sagely, blushing a trifle nevertheless.
"All right. I'll let you engineer this if I can make up my mind to it
after I've milled it over. I can see you know what you're doin'."
When Johnnie returned from a telephone call at the office two hours
later, Kitty had a suspicion he was up to something. He bubbled
mystery so palpably that her curiosity was piqued. But the puncher for
once was silent as a clam. He did not intend to get Kitty into trouble
if his plan miscarried. Moreover, he had an intuition that if she knew
what was under way she would put her small, competent foot through the
middle of the project.
The conspirators arranged details. Johnnie was the brains of the
kidnaping. Clay bought the tickets and was to take charge of the
prisoner after the train was reached. They decided it would be best to
get a stateroom for the girl.
"We wantta make it as easy as we can for her," said Johnnie. "O'
course it's all for her own good, but we don't figure to treat her
noways but like the princess she is."
"Yes," agreed Clay humbly.
According to programme, carefully arranged by Johnnie, Beatrice rode
down to the train with him and Kitty in their taxicab. She went on
board for the final good-byes and chatted with them in their section.
The chief conspirator was as easy as a toad in a hot skillet. Now that
it had come down to the actual business of taking this young woman with
them against her will, he began to weaken. His heart acted very
strangely, but he had to go through with it.
"C-can I see you a minute in the next car, Miss Beatrice?" he asked,
his voice quavering.
Miss Whitford lifted her eyebrows, but otherwise expressed no surprise.
"Certainly, Johnnie."
"What do you want to see Miss Whitford about, Johnnie?" his spouse
asked. There were times when Kitty mistrusted Johnnie's judgment. She
foresaw that he might occasionally need a firm hand.
"Oh, nothin' much. Tell you about it later, honey." The kidnaper
mopped the perspiration from his forehead. At that moment he wished
profoundly that this brilliant idea of his had never been born.
He led the way down the aisle into the next sleeper and stopped at one
of the staterooms. Shakily he opened the door and stood aside for her
to pass first.
"You want me to go in here?" she asked.
"Yes'm."
Beatrice stepped in. Johnnie followed.
Clay rose from the lounge and said, "Glad to see you, Miss Whitford."
"Did you bring me here to say good-bye, Johnnie?" asked Beatrice.
The Runt's tongue stuck to the root of his mouth, His eyes appealed
dumbly to Clay.
"Better explain to Miss Whitford," said Clay, passing the buck.
"It's for yore good, Miss Beatrice," stammered the villain who had
brought her. "We--we--I--I done brought you here to travel home with
us."
"You--what?"
Before her slender, outraged dignity Johnnie wilted. "Kitty, she--she
can chaperoon you. It's all right, ma'am. I--we--I didn't go for to
do nothin' that wasn't proper. We thought--"
"You mean that you brought me here expecting me to go along with
you--without my consent--without a trunk--without--"
Clay took charge of the kidnaping. "Johnnie, if I were you I'd light a
shuck back to the other car. I see I'll have to treat this lady rough
as you advised."
Johnnie wanted to expostulate, to deny that he had ever given such
counsel, to advise an abandonment of the whole project. But his nerve
unexpectedly failed him. He glanced helplessly at Clay and fled.
He was called upon the carpet immediately on joining Kitty.
"What are you up to, Johnnie? I'm not going to have you make a goose
of yourself if I can help it. And where's Mr. Lindsay? You said he'd
meet us here."
"Clay, he's in the next car."
"You took Miss Beatrice in there to say good-bye to him?"
"No--she--she's goin' along with us."
"Going along with us? What do you mean, Johnnie Green?"
He told her his story, not at all cheerfully. His bold plan looked
very different now from what it had two days before.
Already the chant of the wheels had begun. The train was in the
sub-Hudson darkness of the tunnel.
Kitty rose with decision. "Well, of all the foolishness I ever heard,
Johnnie, this is the limit. I'm going right to that poor girl. You've
spoiled everything between you. She'll hate Mr. Lindsay for the rest
of her life. How could he be so stupid?"
Her husband followed her, crestfallen. He wanted to weep with chagrin.
Beatrice opened the door of the stateroom. She had taken off her hat
and Clay was hanging it on a hook.
"Come in," she said cordially, but faintly.
Kitty did not quite understand. The atmosphere was less electric than
she had expected. She stopped, taken aback at certain impressions that
began to register themselves on her brain.
"Johnnie was tellin' me--"
"About how he abducted me. Yes. Wasn't it dear of him?"
"But--"
"I've decided to make the best of it and go along."
"I--your father, Mr. Whitford--" Kitty bogged down.
Beatrice blushed. Little dimples came out with her smile. "I think
I'd better let Clay explain."
"We were married two days ago, Kitty."
"What!" shouted the Runt.
"We intended to ask you both to the wedding, but when Johnnie proposed
to abduct Miss Whitford, I thought it a pity not to let him. So we--"
Johnnie fell on him and beat him with both fists. "You daw-goned ol'
scalawag! I never will help you git married again!" he shouted
gleefully.
Clay sat down on the seat and gave way to mirth. He rocked with glee.
Beatrice began to chuckle. She, too, yielded to laughter. Kitty, and
then Johnnie, added to the chorus.
"Oh, Johnnie--Johnnie--you'll be the death of me!" cried Clay. "It'll
never be a dull old world so long as you stay a bandit."
"Did you really advise him to beat me, Johnnie?" asked Beatrice
sweetly. "I never would have guessed you were such a cave man."
Johnnie flamed to the roots of his hair. "Now, ma'am, if you're gonna
believe that--"
Beatrice repented and offered him her hand.
"We'll not believe anything of you that isn't good? even if you did
want to kidnap me," she said.