blanket over her knees. “He would have struck me again, surely, when another man entered. He was older and had a face like a hawk. His right hand was in his pocket, and he stuck it out at the younger fellow. ‘Beat it!’ he said. As the first man ran out a third man came in. He was not young and somehow he was different. He looked only at my face. ‘It’s the girl I want, Bellew,’ he said. ‘She’s the one I saw brought off the bus. . . .’ Bellew said, ‘Cost you ten grand, Ben Sneed,’ ‘Listen, hophead,’ replied Sneed, and his voice cut like a blade, ‘I’ll pay the ten grand, but right now—and take her away as soon as I can.’
“I remember every word they spoke. And I saw how Bellew stood with that pocket of his pointed toward Sneed. He had a gun in it, because I’d seen that in the movies. . . . ‘Bellew, I’ll talk turkey with you,’ Sneed said, cold as ice. ‘You lock this girl in here. You can go with me while I dig up that ten grand.’ ‘Ben you’re not the big shot in this burg,’ snarled Bellew. ‘You’re only a booze peddler. This is my racket.’ ‘Yes,’ said Sneed, ‘this racket is yours, all right, along with other dirty rackets, one of which is hijacking my trucks. I’m wise to you. And one more blow like that will be curtains for you and all of your gang. It’s not my way to talk turkey with men like you. That’s on account of this girl. . . . Come on, now, scram.’
“They left the room,” whispered Anne Vandergrift, moistening her lips. “I was alone. I don’t know whether the time dragged or flew. But the room began to get dark. I knew the sun had set. It grew night. I could only wait and pray. After a while I heard loud voices—footsteps. I listened. The woman was being dragged up the stairs. More men came running up the stairs. A fight followed. Blows, curses! I found myself free and stumbled down a stairway that opened into an alley. From there I got on the main street. I ran as fast as I could, holding the blanket round me. At first someone followed me, I was sure. But I got away—up that side street—where I found your car. I tried to start it, but couldn’t. I only had enough strength to crawl in the back and hide. . . . That’s all, Mr. Weston—and here I am.”
She sat back in the rocker, pale and breathless from her recital, her gaze intent upon Lynn. He saw that her eyes were unusually large and gray-green in color. She had nut-brown hair, curly and disheveled, with glints of a lighter shade in it. Her face was cast in a mold that would have been beautiful even without expression or glow. Her eyes were wide apart under level brows. Cheek and chin and neck all merged in a perfect contour without line or blemish, and a faint blue tracery of veins showed through the pearly skin.
“Some story!” Lynn exclaimed huskily. “You had a lucky break! . . . Let me find you pencil and paper so you can write out that list before you go to bed.”
“Won’t it look strange—you buying all these woman’s things?”
“I’ll get a woman to do it.”
“What will she think?”
“By George! I’ll have to fix that somehow. Because I want to find a job for you over at the supply camp. I’ll puzzle it out. . . . Slip out of that coat, please. I’ll need it. And I’ll take this blanket you brought with you. Go to bed now and sleep. You’ll be warm—and safe.”
She stood up to comply with his request, and despite his ill-fitting pajamas she presented a picture he would not soon forget.
“And you—you’ll be where you can hear me?”
“Just outside.”
“Won’t you freeze?”
“I’ll be okay. Let’s see now. I’m on the job from nine until five. I’ll have to come in early, start you a fire and get the list and beat it to camp. Maybe I can get an hour or two off. Then after work I’ll see you. . . . Good night, Anne Vandergrift.”
She murmured an inaudible reply, and he felt her eyes on him as he saw to the stove, and then as he backed toward the door he looked up to see her earnest, unutterably grateful face.
Lynn went out to get in the car, and wrapping the blanket round his legs he slid down to rest and think, if not to sleep. After a few minutes the light went out in the cabin. A dull rattle and roll of wheels, with an occasional roar, filled Lynn’s ears. The immediate problem concerning this girl did not seem to present any particular obstacle. He could place her in one of the boarding houses over at camp and take care of her till he had found work for her. Boulder Dam was known to try all the workers who applied. But what concerned Lynn was these damned racketeers. Since his advent at Las Vegas he had heard gossip about them. They were princes of crime. They had a system of extortion the laymen could not understand. If the little booze-peddling agents had money to burn what vast sums Ben Sneed must command! If he offered ten thousand dollars to Bellew for this singularly attractive and innocent girl he would pay ten times that amount. These men carried on their nefarious trades with no regard for the law whatsoever. For them there was no law. Their rivalries, jealousies, greeds, had them continually at each others’ throats.
Pondering over this serious phase of the situation Lynn fell asleep. Late in the night he awoke, cramped and cold, and shivered and dozed and waited until daylight. Then he went to the gravel camp cook house and had his breakfast, filled his pockets with fruit and made some sandwiches. After that he hunted up his boss and asked for a little time off. The camp rules were strict, but he succeeded in his mission and then hurried back to his cabin.
When he entered, Anne was sound asleep. Lynn carried a basin of water and his shaving things outside, where he proceeded to break his usual routine. He had never shaved very often and never until after work. He was aware of this departure, but did not question it. When he got through, the sun burst rosy and bright over the Arizona mountains. Lynn went indoors again, not tiptoeing this time. But the girl did not stir. He rolled up the eastern canvas blind which let in the sun upon Anne’s face. Lynn was compelled to halt and gaze at her. Something more than a natural admiration stirred in him. How young, fresh, helpless, sad and lovely she looked in that rosy morning light! Lynn had to give her a little shake to awaken her.
The big eyes fluttered open. Shadows of slumber succeeded to shadows of doubt and fear. Her gaze flashed from Lynn round the cabin and back again. “Oh! Where am I? Who . . .”
“Wake up, Anne, and remember,” he said cheerily. “I’m the lucky guy who found you in his car last night. . . . Listen, I’ll lay a fire for you to start when you want to make a cup of coffee. Here’s some fruit and sandwiches, all I could swipe. Bar the door after I go out. My luxurious bathroom is in that compartment through the window there. . . . Where’s your list? Ah, there it is! It doesn’t appear long for a young lady at the moment absolutely dependent upon a Boulder Dam laborer’s pajama.”
“I don’t need—very much,” she faltered, and the color in her face was not all a sunrise flush.
“Okay. I’m off. You were hard to wake up. Sleep all day.”
“Will you be gone so long?”
“I have to work, you know, mysterious stranger. And drive in for your things after hours. So long. And don’t worry. It’s all right.”
Lynn hurried out, somewhat amused and puzzled at his feelings. He had been in haste to leave the cabin, yet he wanted to stay. Tincan appeared cantankerous that morning and did not want to get going. She was always presenting Lynn with new and intricate mechanical problems to solve. At last the engine thawed out, sputtered and roared. Once beyond the great dunes of gravel Lynn stepped on the gas and put the old tin horse to its best paces.
The spring morning must have been unusually beautiful. Lynn found the sunrise glamour on basin and range like rose-colored
