Tish Marches On (14 page)

Well, we more or less settled down after that, although Hannah hated the place from the start. One rainy day I found her on the back porch, putting on her raincoat and overshoes and picking up her umbrella, and when she saw me she burst into tears.

We persuaded her to stay, however; and then, only a morning or two later, we saw the redheaded girl again. She stood for a time looking over a fence at us as we sat on the porch, knitting, and then leaped it like a boy and came up to us.

“Hello!” she said. “Welcome to the rural districts. How’s the hog business?”

I must say she was pretty enough, if she did look like a forest fire; and if she had on anything but a pair of overalls and a green shirt, it was not noticeable. Tish asked her to sit down, so she perched on the edge of the porch and fished for a cigarette and matches.

“That’s the advantage of pants,” she said. “They’ve got pockets.”

Then Aggie asked her if she had been troubled by the bandit lately, and she looked as nearly savage as a pretty girl can look.

“Troubled!” she said. “If that subnormal thinks he can trouble me, he’d better think again.”

She said her name was Lelia Vaughn, and asked us earnestly if we thought she would be a good type for moving pictures. But outside of the fact that she was staying at one of the big houses below she gave no information.

As to the night she had met the bandit she was very reticent; merely observing that if she had a weapon she would shoot him on sight.

I must say we liked her. She had green eyes and a way of looking lonely and pathetic that touched all our hearts. And after that first call she came often. She even let Tish show her how to knit, although I must say the results were pretty terrible.

Then one morning, after she had had some cookies and a small glass of our cordial, she opened up and told us her tragic story.

“When I look at your kind faces,” she said, “I feel that I can confide in you, and I must talk to somebody or go mad.” Here she ate another cookie, and then resumed: “I know it will sound incredible. I know that I appear to be free as the air. But it is not true. Actually, I am a prisoner.”

I recall that we all put down our knitting and stared at her.

“A prisoner!” Tish said. “What sort of prisoner?”

“For love,” she said in a low voice. “I have been sent here so that I cannot see or communicate with the man I care for. And if you don’t believe it, you might look down and see if there is a heavy-set creature who is an ex-prize fighter leaning against a fence somewhere.”

There was! Far below, a man whom we had never seen before was smoking a pipe and staring in our direction, and Lelia gave a slow sad smile and went on.

“That gorilla,” she said, “is my day jailer, and the man who shot at me is on duty at night. They have even taken away my car. “You are,” she said tragically, “the only friends I have left in the world.”

I shall never forget Tish’s expression as she put down her knitting, or the tears in Aggie’s eyes. Aggie had had a frustrated love affair of her own in early life, and ever since has been sympathetic with lovers. And Lelia must have seen our faces, for after that she told us her story. She was, she said, madly in love with a young man in the city whom she called Eddie—she never gave him any other name—and we gathered that he was also in love with her.

“But he is poor,” she added dejectedly. “You know how it is these days. And my people have someone else in view. He is bald-headed and has a tummy, but he has plenty of money. So I am sent here, as my father puts it, to get my senses back.”

Here she suddenly fumbled for a not-very-clean handkerchief and held it to her eyes.

“I’ll never do it,” she said. “Never. Let them starve me. Let them beat me. Let them lock me up. Can you imagine me marrying a man named Theodore, and having little Theodores all over the place?”

“It is incredible,” Tish said slowly. “Such abuse of power in this day and generation! How old are you?”

Well, it seemed that she was nineteen, and that in two years she would inherit quite a lot of money from somebody; but what she wanted, she said, was to get her money now, so that she could marry Eddie at once and they could go west, probably to Hollywood, and start life all over again.

I must admit that we were profoundly touched. Aggie, indeed, was weeping, and when Lelia had at last made a dejected departure, I saw Tish watching her as she crossed the fields.

“I came here for rest and peace,” she said, “but injustice is injustice anywhere. If that story is true and the child is indeed a prisoner, something should be done. And soon.”

I have quoted her exactly, as the press has never published a withdrawal of many of the entirely false statements made at the time. Our entire intention was to prevent a grave miscarriage of justice; and although I object to strong language, anyone who says that we knew what was in that bag as it fell from the sky lies in his teeth.

F
OR THE NEXT DAY
or two Tish was not her calm and usual self. It was in vain that Aggie baked a devil’s-food cake, for Tish did not touch it. It rained for two days, also, and so we did not see Lelia; but when it cleared on the second evening Tish suddenly proposed that we go down to the house where the girl was a prisoner and there test the truth of her story.

Aggie protested wildly, as she not only had taken a fresh cold but after her experience with the skunk she feared the nocturnal life of the fields. Tish, however, was firm, and at last we started out.

It was midnight when we left, and as, in order to avoid observation, Tish had left the lane and taken to the pastures, we moved but slowly. I am sorry to say that it was in our own lower meadow that Aggie had her unfortunate experience with the bull. We had quite forgotten that Jeremiah, some days before, had said that it would be necessary to borrow a bull for some purpose or other, and the first Tish and I knew of it was the sound of some creature moving about and pawing the ground with its feet. It was a dark night and we saw nothing, and suddenly we were almost paralyzed by Aggie’s agonized voice.

“He’s comig after be!” she yelled. “The bull! He’s comig! Help!”

How can I record the horror of that moment, when we heard the enormous animal rushing across the meadow, an agonized final yelp from Aggie, and then the dull thud which could only be her poor body, thrown over the fence to land in the road! Or our relief when, on bending over her with a flashlight, we saw her open her eyes! But a moment later she sat up and, clapping her hands to her mouth, gave us a strange and dreadful look.

“I have thwallowed by teeth!” she said dully.

It was indeed a shocking moment, for she certainly did not have them. But she was otherwise uninjured, and I may say here that Jeremiah found both sets clear across the road the next morning and seemed highly suspicious when he handed them to us.

Obviously she could not go on with us, nor did she wish to do so. Instead, we propped her up in a fence corner and continued on to Lelia’s house, which proved to be a large one in extensive grounds. And had we doubted the truth of the girl’s story, we now had proof of it.

The Bellamy man was on guard under a tree, and as we watched from the shrubbery we heard a window open and Lelia’s voice.

“Listen,” she called down. “Do you have to whistle? I need some sleep.”

“Sweetheart!” he said cheerfully. “I just wanted you to know that I am here. You might be lonely, you know.”

“Oh, stop it,” she said in a tone of desperation. “I’m sick of seeing you. I’m sick of hearing you talk and hearing you whistle. I’m sick of the whole business.”

“Well, I could sing,” he suggested. “I have quite a good voice. People have come miles to hear me. It might pass the time.”

That seemed to infuriate her, for she raised her voice. “All right,” she said. “You think you’ve got a hard job now, don’t you? Well, it isn’t anything to what you are going to have. You’ll be sorry you ever saw me.”

He laughed at that, rather mockingly, I thought.

“Sorry, sweetheart!” he said. “But I’m sorry now. I’m sorry for your disposition, which is mean and vicious. I’m sorry I can’t spank you. And I’m sorry that I’ve got to stand out here instead of being in my own little bed. Look here. Throw me some cigarettes, will you? I’ve run out of them.”

She left the window, and we both thought she meant to get the cigarettes. Evidently the Bellamy man did too, for he moved closer and stood waiting. The next moment, however, there was a terrific crash, as though a chair had dropped on him, and we could hear him swearing and her voice from above.

“Good night, darling,” she called, and slammed the window.

It was then that Tish and I took a careful departure. Whatever one might think of Lelia’s actions, as Tish observed, there was now no doubt whatever that she had told us the truth.

We found Aggie somewhat recovered in her fence corner and took her home, and, as I have said, Jeremiah found her teeth clear across the road the next morning. She was still in bed at the time, and he stalked into the dining room and laid them on the breakfast table.

“By and large,” he said, “I’ve picked up quite a few things on that road. Empty bottles and such like. But darned if I ever found a full set of teeth, uppers and lowers.” He then stared hard at both Tish and myself, and said there were queer things going on and that honest folks stayed in their beds at night.

I think I may safely say that the change in Tish dated from that time. She had long, absorbed moments when, her knitting neglected on her lap, she sat staring down toward where Lelia was being kept under surveillance, and others when she took long excursions alone into the mountains. Then one evening she drew Aggie and me aside and said that, in view of certain possible emergencies, she had been looking for a shelter in the hills, and that at last she had found it.

“A shelter from what?” said Aggie, turning pale.

Tish eyed her gravely.

“The time may come,” she said, “when it will be necessary to rescue Lelia from her captors—for such they evidently are—and to open up for her a new and independent life. At such a time I hope I shall not fail in my duty as I see it. Do you want to see her forced to marry this Theodore?”

Well, none of us did, for that matter; and a day or so later Tish took us to see the cabin. It was certainly hidden, and it was in fair condition, with built-in bunks and a lean-to kitchen with a stove.

After that for some days we were busily—if stealthily—engaged in putting it to rights, and at last one night we carried up a considerable amount of canned food and left it there. Unfortunately, we had no means of transportation, and so Tish, with her usual acumen, used one of the house shutters for the purpose. I shall always consider it a real misfortune that we forgot the shutter and left it there, for Jeremiah missed it the next morning, and I never saw a face so suspicious as his when he reported it to us.

“Man and boy,” he said, “I’ve seen quite a few things stole. But a shutter, now! A pair of shutters, that’s one thing. But one shutter! Only use I can think of for one shutter is to carry a body on.”

Well, there was no body, of course; but about that time somebody found the clothing Aggie had discarded in the field the night she met the skunk, and what with Jeremiah finding her teeth in the road and now the shutter, the story got about that a woman had been murdered in the vicinity and her body disposed of somehow. As a result, we actually had a visit from the sheriff of the county a few days later. He said he had merely looked in to see how we were getting along, but it was plain that he was suspicious of us, and I saw him take a long look into the well before he left.

It was indeed that very night that, all of us having retired, we heard a terrific pounding on the front door; and that Tish, armed with Charlie Sands’ shotgun, went down and threw it open.

On the doorsteps was Lelia, still in her overalls and panting for breath, and when she had rushed in and locked the door, she simply dropped into a chair and closed her eyes.

“The dirty something or other!” she said. “He chased me!”

We gave her some cordial, and soon she was herself again. All she had wanted to do, she said, was to take a moonlight ride, and so she had managed to get out of the house and steal the key to Mr. Bellamy’s car from his cabin. There was, however, something wrong with the starter, and so he had heard her. She had just got the engine going when he leaped on the running board.

“All I had time to do,” she said, “was to head it for the ditch and then jump and run, with him after me. He would have got me too,” she said drearily, “but for that bull in the lower field. It made for him, and that gave me a chance. Otherwise—”

She made a pathetic gesture, and I must say my heart went out to her.

It was that night that Tish told her about the cabin and how to reach it. I wish to state here that none of us suggested that she attempt to reach it; least of all that she should take along Charlie Sands’ shotgun. These she did on her own initiative, and the statement that we taped her eyes and mouth is simply absurd. As to the bottle of chloroform found later in Tish’s apartment, it was used for the bat and for no other purpose.

Our sole contribution to that night was to tuck her into a comfortable bed, where she lay looking at us with a soft sad smile.

“I am so grateful,” she said gently. “And how strange to think that you three are my only friends.”

That was the last time either Aggie or I saw her for five days, and any assertion to the contrary is blatantly false.

I
ROSE THE NEXT
day at my usual hour and was somewhat astonished to find young Bellamy sitting on the front porch and cheerfully smiling.

“Good morning,” he said. “And how is our little friend this morning? Not too weary, I trust.”

I could only eye him with disfavor. He looked muddy—from which I gathered that the bull had given him some trouble—but entirely calm.

“I am surprised that you dare to ask that,” I said coldly.

He only smiled again.

“Why not?” he said. “I assure you that my interest in her is extreme. In fact,” he added with a change of tone, “if I ever lay my hands on that redheaded brat again, I’ll teach her a few things. I’ll teach her to throw chairs on me,” he went on with increasing bitterness. “And other furniture. Would you believe that in the past few weeks she has dumped practically everything portable in that house on me at night, including a pair of brass book ends? They were heads of George Washington, at that. Where’s her patriotism? Where’s her humanity? Where’s—Oh, what’s the use? Where is she?”