Sara held her breath at the contact of their bodies. Never before had she been held like this in the arms of a passion roused man. Even though the kindly darkness put a shroud over their embrace. He held her closer. In the water it had felt different. They'd held hands, had had bodily contact. But nothing like this. His unsteadiness in the darkness made him lurch a little with her weight. This brought her thighs into contact with surging, warm flesh. She let out a little gasp of excitement, uttered a faint "oh" of wonder.
CHAPTER ONE
Sara Hibbons got off the bus ignoring the stares of several men who would certainly have undressed her had their eyes had fingers. Two youths whistled at her as she left the bus and walked down Hetton Street.
Sara was whistling bait, she was five foot five with hair redder than an Arizona sunset and curves that would have wrecked Casey Jones engine. Hazel eyes under long lashes were usually merry with suspicion of a twinkle. The twinkle had been inherited from her easy going, shiftless father.
Her strongest characteristic was a stubborn, bull headed determination that never said quit. This trait had caused her English teacher in high school to say to her, "Sara, you have more determination than any girl I ever knew. I pity the man you set your cap for because he will never be able to escape you."
She weighed one hundred and five pounds.
She turned in at the frame house the Cullowheys lived in, glancing at her wrist watch as she did so. She was five minutes ahead of time and that pleased her. She had lost her waitress job because she had refused to go out with the married proprietor. She had answered a want ad, accepted a baby sitting job with the Cullowheys. Sara was in Cincinnati completing a business course.
She'd had the baby sitting job two months now and not once had she been late. She met Sylvia Cullowhey and her husband, John leaving the house. They told her they were leaving early and would be late getting back home. Sara told them that would be perfectly all right, to stay as long as they liked. She went into the house, looked to see if the child was okay, sat down with a magazine she had brought.
About an hour later she heard a key grating in the front door lock. She leaped from her chair in alarm, only to see John Cullowhey come into the house.
"Hope I didn't disturb you, Sara. I forgot something."
He went into the bedroom and Sara resumed her seat. A couple of minutes later he called, "Sara, will you please come and help me find my cane."
Sara laid down her magazine, went to oblige.
No sooner was she in the bedroom than he shut the door behind her. As Sara tensed in startled surprise he grabbed her. He had her in his arms and was kissing her before she realized what he was doing. She tried to push loose.
"Don't, don't ... let me go," she cried, beginning to struggle.
But he forced her down on the bed on her back. He was pulling her dress up above her knees before she really became scared. She struggled fiercely, kicked with all her might, biting his arm and striving desperately to make him loosen his grasp.
"Let me go!" she cried frantically. "Turn me loose!"
With a mighty effort she succeeded in rolling out from under him onto the floor. But he grabbed the neckline of her dress, ripped it asunder down her back. As she struggled to her feet he ripped her slip off too.
"Stand still, you little fool," he hissed angrily. "I'll pay you well."
She made a try for the door but his clutching hand seized her bra, tore it completely off, exposing her swelling, pear shaped breasts. Naked to her waist, only a pair of Bardot Briefs with luscious lace side overlays saving her nudeness, she was sobbing in fright and anger. She was able to fling the door open and flee into the living room, pursued by her lustful assailant.
"Stop, you damned, crazy little idiot!" he snarled. "What's the matter with you anyway? I'm going to give you money."
He grabbed her again, was about to lift her and carry her back into the bedroom, when the front door again opened. Mrs. Cullowhey stepped through the door, stopped abruptly, stared at the spectacle.
"John, what is the meaning of this?" she demanded.
Startled at her sudden and unexpected appearance he was momentarily at a loss for words. But only for a few moments. He was a resourceful man who often turned apparent defeat into victory. He was equal to the occasion.
"This cheap, black mailing little tramp tried to extort five hundred dollars from me, that's what," he said angrily. "I forgot my cane and came after it just as I told you. But I couldn't find it. This dirty little slut came into the bedroom and began to remove her clothes. She paid no attention when I told her to stop. When I grabbed her to make her stop she began to scream and struggle. She shouted that unless I gave her five hundred dollars she'd run outside nearly naked and yell that I'd tried to rape her. I thought she was just bluffing.
"I shoved her onto the bed and left the room, thinking that was the end of it. But she ran into here, having torn her dress and slip off, jerked her bra off and she was naked to her waist. She was about to remove her panties too when I regained my wits. I grabbed her to keep her from stripping stark naked. I was going to hold her and call the cops. Just then you came in. I'm going to call the police right now."
He walked toward the phone in the hall.
"No, don't do that. Wait, John," his wife said sternly. "I don't want to send her to jail. She's been too good and kind to our little son. He loves her. I'm so glad he's asleep. We'll let her go without any pay. We'll spread the shameful story all over the city so that she can never again get employment in Cincinnati." She glared at Sara who had listened to the fabricated story with amazement and dismay. "Put your clothing back on, Miss Hibbons and get out."
Distraught with shame and anger, bitter tears dropping from her eyes, Sara tried to blurt out the real story.
"Shut up! I want no more more of your lying!" snapped the wife.
Convicted without even a hearing, Sara sobbed lowly as she went into the bedroom and ... using pins ... managed to piece her clothing together. She left the house, dried her tears and took a bus to her own rooming house. She wondered what had suddenly come over Mr. Cullowhey. In the two months she'd worked for them he had treated her kindly, politely, just as if she were his daughter.
Next morning when she went to the business school she knew the story had gotten around. That afternoon the school heads called her into the office and politely invited her to sever her connections with the school. When Sara refused to do so unless they refunded the rightful portion of her money paid them ... they wrote her out a check immediately.
The following morning she started a search for another job.
She speedily discovered the story had been emblazoned to the four corners of the city. Some employers hadn't heard it. But when they checked her references they were no longer interested in her. At the end of her first day of trudging on the streets answering ads, giving her name and phone number, explaining she had to get a job because she had run out of money ... she wasn't discouraged. Her stubborn determination made her decide she would show them. She was innocent and she didn't mean to let a black lie keep her from finding employment.
The following afternoon she landed a job as waitress in the Phane Grill. She hummed to herself that night as she washed out things, did some ironing and selected clothing to wear to her job.
She rose early next morning, enjoyed a good breakfast, kept glancing at her watch. The grill was only five blocks from her boarding house so she decided to walk. She arrived at the grill ten minutes ahead of time but won no approving smile from the proprietor. He followed her to the kitchen.
"I'm very sorry, Miss Hibbons," he said kindly, "But I'm afraid we cannot employ you after all."
Sara stared at him with sinking heart. So he had finally heard the story, too. It was all she could do to keep from crying. She had wanted the job so badly. With a determined effort she smiled and said, "I'm sorry too, sir. Are you sure you cannot hire me?"
"Yes, Miss Hibbons. I hope you can find another job."
She spent that day too in walking the streets, answering ads, giving her name and phone number. She was still determined to find work.
But at the end of the third fruitless day she began to have doubts. It certainly looked as if she was finished in Cincy. Well, if they didn't want to hire her there she would go elsewhere and find a job. She recalled that back in high school in her home town of Daleville, Tennessee, Ben Nichols the publisher had liked her work so well ... she wrote the school news for The Dale County Courier ... he had promised to give her a job on the Courier when she finished school.
Sara had never had the yen for newspaper work but now she decided a job was a job. All her family had passed on except one sister who lived-in the old family frame home on the river bank.
She wrote Nichols a letter, informed him she was taking him up on that offer of a job on the Courier. She would follow the letter in a few days to start to work, she told him. She mailed the letter next morning. She would try a couple more days to land a job in Cincy. Her stubborn bull headedness would let her do nothing else. If she was still without a job in two days she would go back to good old Daleville where the hills winked back at you on misty days.
The fourth day proved to be as fruitless as the preceding ones. She tried harder than ever. But luck was against her. Two places were about to hire her. But when they phoned her references it was the same old story. It being Saturday she decided to rest Sunday and then take a bus for Daleville. She had decided she was wasting time and money trying to catch on in Cincy where the cards were stacked against her.
She boarded a bus Monday morning.
CHAPTER TWO
Sara leaned her head back against the cushioned bus seat and tried to ride smoothly against the choppiness of the worn-out paved road. She'd been riding several hours now and was tired of the jounce-jounce-jounce melody the wheels were making.
She decided she'd try to relieve the monotony. "Do you mind if I smoke?" she asked the ten year old boy seated beside her.
"Naw. My Pop smokes but my Mom don't. Where're you going?"
"To Tennessee," Sara said, smiling. "Do you live in Tennessee?"
"Naw. I live in Kentucky. Been to Covington visiting Aunt Phyllis."
Sara was silent and the boy asked curiously, "Are you one of them Hollywood actors?"
"You mean actress," Sara said, laughing. "No, I'm not an actress."
"Where at do you live in Tennessee?"
"Daleville."
The bus stopped in a small town, a man left the bus and the boy went back to the vacated seat to sit beside his mother.
Sara flipped through the pages of a magazine but she couldn't get her mind on it. Her thoughts were bitter. She was returning to her home town in East Tennessee after a two years absence. In her purse was exactly fifteen dollars and sixty-five cents. She liked Cincinnati, wished she could have remained there. But that shameful story had been accepted as the truth by all who'd heard it. She sighed dismally, tossed her hair back from her eyes took a long draw from her cigarette.
Anyway she had a home and sister to return to. She could have arrived back home had she not splurged recklessly and bought a new outfit. She had made up her mind to step off the bus in Daleville and knock their eyes out.
It was the second day in June. Green and fragrant spring was giving way to early summer. The foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains were wearing the bright green shades issued them by spring. Daleville lay almost in the shadow of the Smokies, being a scant thirty miles west.
Sara's parents had passed on. Only her older sister, Maude remained. She was unwed and the mother of a little boy. She and the boy lived in the old shack on the river bank. In high school Sara had been called that pretty girl from the river shanty.
As the bus ate up the miles toward Daleville she wondered if Daleville had changed much in the two years she'd been away. Daleville now boasted a population of about forty thousand, she knew. The Eagle river ran through the western portion of the city. It was on the banks of the Eagle river in the old unpainted house that she had been born.
She wondered if she could look at the old homestead without crying. It would have memories of the mother she'd loved. Memories of her shiftless, lazy, and work-avoiding father whom she'd also loved. He had always shied away from regular work, taking odd jobs whenever he needed money for liquor or when he was out of hunting ammunition or fishing supplies.
Her mother had slaved in cafes, offices, laundries and homes to keep her pretty daughter in school. Even then Sara had been forced to work after school hours to stay in the swim and finish. Her father had been killed by a train while lying drunk on the track. Her older brother had been killed in a knife fight at Hussy Hollow. The Hollow was a collection of honky tonks, dives and gambling dens west of Daleville. Maude had become pregnant and given birth to a baby boy. No amount of persuasion had ever been able to draw from her the name of the boy's father. Her mother had died two months before Sara had finished school.
Finishing school, Sara had gone to Cincinnati to take a business course. Having just enough money to get there and get started she'd been forced to take a waitress job. She hadn't liked the job but she was determined to finish the course. Maude and the little boy had continued living in the old house. Her people always told her she had inherited her stubborn determination to never say die from a grandfather.
Now every turn of the wheels was bringing her back home with a headstrong and unshatterable determination ... and with less than twenty dollars to her name ... to show them. Yes, she was determined to show the blue noses and halo wearers in Daleville that the little, uncouth girl from the river shanty had made something of herself quite different from what they expected.
One of her strongest determinations was that no man would ever treat her as her sister had been treated. Back in high school Sara had watched the results of two of her girl friends after being seduced by older men. One, with a baby, had steadfastly refused to name the name responsible. Her parents, unable to face the shameful music, had moved with her to another town. The other girl, finding herself pregnant, had been sent away to have her baby and the baby had been given away. Sarah had remarked with cold fury that if ever a man did that to her she would make him acknowledge the baby publicly if it took her the rest of her life.
She had necked and kissed on Sweetheart Lane with her steady boy friend but only because she had had the idea she was in love with him. Later she'd realized that Jerry was only in love with himself, with no ambition or desire to carve out a career for himself. All he'd wanted was to be a playboy. Sara had dropped him. She'd had three proposals but hadn't been in love with any of the three.
In Cincinnati she'd had proposals wherein marriage hadn't been mentioned. All had been turned down.
The bus stopped in a small town to take on a couple of passengers. One of them, a tall shifty eyed man with wispy mustache reminded her of John Cullowhey the man responsible for her being on the way home. Her hazel eyes stirred with a little anger as she looked at the man.
"Next stop will be Creeder just across the Tennessee line," the friendly bus driver called out. "We stop there ten minutes. You have time for a sandwich or drink."
Sara got off and went to the ladies room.
Since no one got on Sara had the seat to herself.
Two more hours and the bus reached the Dale County line. She felt a twinge of excitement quite unlike anything she'd experienced in the two years she'd been away. She was coming back home. What a wonderful feeling it was. She wondered if Maude had aged any and wondered if her little boy had started to school.
The bus was now rolling past Duncans Cabins and Sara's cheeks pinked a bit as she recalled the night Bobby Furnston had gotten out his father's car and driven Sara there. He had tried to talk her into occupying a cabin with him. Bobby, just eighteen, had been quite awkward in his approach and Sara had had a hard time to keep from laughing at him.
When the bus was within five miles of Daleville, Sara was surprised at the new highway growths. There was the old snack stand where Jerry Lee-man had taken her on their first date. It was now empty and forsaken. In a few minutes now the highway would give way to Maple, the main street and the longest street in Daleville. She saw a new paved street coming into the highway from the left. Two years back it had been a muddy dirt road.
A red light stopped the bus at Five Points.
The bus went on, crossing the city limits and kept going on Maple. Sara kept her oval face glued to the window pane.
When the bus pulled into a parking space at the rear of the bus station Sara peered about eagerly but failed to see a single person she knew.
She was among the last to get off. She set her bags down and looked around. She stood there undecided a minute or two, was about to pick up her bags and walk out onto the street when she saw a young man walking toward her.
He was ruggedly built, wide shouldered and had dark wavy hair curling out from under his cap which was set jauntily back on his head. He was a couple of inches under six feet, wore gray pants and a sport shirt. She recognized him as Lester Holland.
Les had carried a torch for her since early high school days. She had always liked Les and respected him. But he had never lit the fuse to her emotions and exploded them into love for him.
"Hello, Sara."
"Why, hello, Les. How in the world did you know I was coming home?"
"Ben Nichols told me. I've been meeting every bus since he told me. I'm sure glad you're home, Sara. Are you here for a visit or to stay?"
He grinned boyishly, eagerly his gray eyes filled with admiration for her. He was a good looking young man with good health and he was overflowing with love for her. Sara had wondered a thousand times why she couldn't fall in love with him. He'd been her slave through high school. He had tried to get her to marry him before they graduated. When she'd left home he'd written her regularly and repeatedly, telling her he loved her and would do anything in the world for her.
Such devotion was touching and Sara, not wanting to hurt him, kept brushing off his proposals of marriage, saying she wasn't yet ready to marry. Now, as she read the eager message in his eyes, she was uneasy less he would ask her again.
"Do you have more luggage?"
"Yes, Les. Two larger bags."
He went for the baggage and Sara stood there troubled. Of course it pleased any girl to have a good looking fellow wildly in love with her. But she didn't want to string him along and she didn't want to hurt him by giving him the gate. She wanted Les for a friend but nothing more. But she knew that would never satisfy him.
As she waited for him to return several men gave her the eye. Two youths whistled at her. She was used to all that. Some girls pretended to be angry at such attention but for Sara it was only an act.
Les returned with the bags.
"Where shall I take you, Sara?"
"Why, out home of course. Have you seen Maude lately?"
He made no answer. He set the bags down and looked uncomfortable. Sara looked at him puzzledly. What was the matter with him? Why didn't he answer?
"Les, what is it? Has something happened to Maude?"
"Look, Sara you can't go out there."
"Why can't I? What are you trying to tell me, Les?"
He heaved a dismal sigh, shook his head sadly. "Somebody has to tell you. I reckon it might as well be me. Your sister sold the house and left town with her little boy. I heard that she went off with a carnival man."
Sara stared at him incredulously.
So that was why she hadn't heard from Maude. Another blow for her. She'd never have believed that Maude would sell the old place without asking her about it.
"Are you sure, Les? How do you know she sold the place?"
"I hated to tell you this, Sara. But I know she did sell out. It's on the courthouse records. You can see for yourself. I'm sorry, Sara. I would have written you about it but I thought of course that your sister had told you."
"Well, I'll have to seek another roof. Does Martha Brent still run her rooming house on Elm street?"
"Yes. I'm sure she does."
"Please take me there, Les. I'll get a room with Martha."
As the car nosed along in the traffic he told her he was partner with his father in the Holland Garage. She knew he had always been a good mechanic. The news about Maude hurt her deeply.
The one thing that had buoyed her up had been the expectation of coming home to a sister.
He parked the car before the rooming house. It was a large two story frame structure with a large front porch and wide lawn.
Les carried her bags to the front porch, put them down and rang the bell. As she waited Sara wondered if Martha Brent had ever married again. Probably not. Martha had lost her husband in World War Two. Sara knew she hadn't remarried up to the time she'd left home.
"Hello, Martha. I'm so glad to see you. I don't believe you've aged a single hour since I last saw you. How are you getting along?"
"Fine," the tall middle-aged woman with dark hair and eyes said shortly.
Sara waited for her to say something else. When she didn't Sara asked, "Martha, do you have a room for me?"
"No. I'm sorry but I'm all full." She closed the door.
Sara stared at the closed door bewilderedly. "Why, what can be the matter with her?" She looked at Les puzzledly. "She was always so friendly to me. Now she acted cold and real hostile. Do you know the reason, Les?"
Les shook his head. "Beats me."
Sara was halfway back to his car before the answer came to her. She stopped abruptly, looked at Les, her cheeks pinking. "Les ... tell me something. Has that awful story about me gotten home ahead of me?"
"What story?" he asked lamely, looking uncomfortable and embarrassed.
"Now, look here, Les," she said, grasping his wrist to emphasize what she meant to say. "I want the truth. You've heard that story. I know you have by the funny way you looked. Out with it now. Unless you tell me the truth I shall never speak to you again."
"Well...." He stopped to get out a cigarette and light it. "Well, you might as well know, Sara. The story is all over town. I know it's not true because I know you. But just about everyone else believes it."
"Thank you, Les. Of course it was untrue. The husband was quick-witted enough to tell his wife the lie when she came in and caught him trying to rape me. I tried hard to get another job in Cincinnati but the story had gotten around. Employers who hadn't heard it checked my references and that was the end of any consideration for me."
"I knew it was a lie. I better not hear anyone else run you down over that lie. If I do I'm liable to knock somebody down."
"No, Les. I don't want you to do that."
"Where shall we go now, Sara?"
CHAPTER THREE
"Drive me to another rooming house, Les. Surely there must be some place where I can rent a room."
"You won't have to rent a room, Sara, if you'll marry me," he said hopefully as he drove away. "I've already asked you two dozen times or more. But I'm still hopeful." He darted a quick look at her to see how she'd taken it.
She put her hand softly on his wrist. "You're a fine fellow, Les. One of the nicest fellows I've ever known. But I must work my way out of this mess alone. It wouldn't be fair to let you marry me and the mess too."
"But, Sara...."
"Please, Les. Not now. Please don't say any more about it now. Right at present I'm all troubled over finding a room. I don't know whether all the places have heard that shameful story or ... there's a rooming house on the other side of the street. Pull over there and we'll try it."
They did try it. All went well until the landlady asked Sara her name. When she heard the name she stared stonily at Sara, told her she was full up. They tried four other rooming houses with the same result. Sara was full of cold fury. As they left the last place Les tried to persuade her to go home with him and spend the night with his parents. Sara refused with thanks. She told him to drive her to the Starlight Hotel.
"The hotel won't care about references," she said bitterly. "Just so I pay in advance is all they want. And I am quite able to do that. But I'll have to find a job tomorrow or they'll soon be throwing me out. Luckily I have a job promised."
"Where?" asked Les.
"The Dale County Courier."
Les wondered why Ben Nichols hadn't told him about it when he'd talked to him. He decided Nichols hadn't thought of it.
He parked in the hotel parking lot, carried her bags in. He wanted to give her all the moral support he could. He also wanted to pay her room for a couple of weeks. He knew he'd have to do it on the sly. After she'd registered he covertly slipped the clerk a twenty dollar bill. But Sara saw the move and grabbed his wrist.
"No, no, Les. It's so generous of you and I appreciate it so much. But I cannot let you do it. I have some money." She paid for the room. Les followed her to the elevator.
"At least you'll let me take you out to supper, Sara?"
She hesitated as she tried vainly to think of some excuse. She didn't want to have dinner with Les but she didn't want to hurt him. After all, he'd driven her around and tried to help her find a room. She owed him something. She told him she'd be back down within a few minutes.
Les wanted to take her to an expensive and swanky place but Sara would have none of it. She didn't want to have them hit Les for cover charges and other extras. She saw a sign reading Gerald's Grill.
"Let's go in there, Les. It's a nice place."
When their meal was over he persuaded her to take in a movie with him. When that was over he wanted her to go to the Owl Club and dance. But Sara, feeling she had now repaid him for his kindness, declined with polite thanks. He drove her back to the hotel. She bade him good night at the car.
She was undressed for bed when there came a rap on her door. She opened it slightly, peered through the crack, saw the fellow who had followed her up the elevator.
"Pardon me, miss, but I thought maybe you'd like to join me in a drink," he said smugly. "What do you say?"
"No!" Sara said angrily, slammed the door so hard it made him jump. "And if you dare to accost me again I'll call the manager."
She knew she didn't look like a slut. It must have been that awful story. She wondered if all the men in Daleville would think she was a pushover. If they did they were going to be sadly mistaken. She could still see the hungering look in Les Holland's eyes. Poor old Les. She was sorry for him, real sorry. He would do anything in the world for her. But she didn't love him and knew she never would.
Next morning Sara dressed carefully in her best working outfit and took the elevator to the lobby.
She had a sickening fear as she walked along. Had Ben Nichols heard that story? If he had would he back down on his offer of a job? There was only one way to find out. She arrived opposite the Courier building, waited for the green light, crossed the street.
With chin tilted up proudly she entered the building.
Ben Nichols, gray haired but straight and slender, was on the phone. He looked at Sara a few moments as he talked. He was a boozer but carried his liquor well. Some folks said he wrote his editorials when he was drunk but they were wrong. He always sobered up enough to finish his editorials. He always had a bottle awaiting him when he finished.
Presently Nichols removed his glasses, looked at her and said, "Good morning, Sara. So you're back in Daleville?"
"Yes, Mr. Nichols and I'm certainly glad to be back home. I'm ready to start work on the Courier." She tried to speak casually and wondered if he had detected the anxious note in her words.
"You are? Does that mean you've gotten some newspaper experience somewhere?"
"No, Mr. Nichols. All the experience I've had was back in high school when I wrote the school news for you."
"Yes, I remember. And you did a fine job."
"When shall I start to work, Mr. Nichols?"
He frowned, marked time by removing his glasses and polishing them. The phone rang and he was busy on it for a full minute. He hung up, made some notes on a pad. Leaning back he got out a cigarette and lit one. Sara's uneasiness was now to the point where she wished she hadn't come to see him.
Finally Nichols removed his glasses, looked at her and said, "Sara, the town has grown some since you left."
"Mr. Nichols, you surely remember telling me you'd give me a job on the Courier, do you not?"
"Sara, since I made you that promise things have changed." He looked uncomfortable and shifted his eyes from her steadfast gaze. "The Courier isn't getting the business it should be getting.
There's too much damned competition. Times are a lot rougher. I'm afraid I can't put you to work right at this time."
So her worst fears were realized! He wasn't a man of his word. He had no job for her and wasn't going to have a job for her. Sara's eyes stirred with anger.
"You've heard that story that man invented about me. That's the real reason, isn't it?" Her voice quivered with anger and was quite sharp.
"Well now, Sara I did hear the story. It got spread all over town. The Courier is an old, respected paper. It has its dignities and traditions. I can't afford to affront the decent people of this town by asking them to transact any business with...."
"That story wasn't true. You old pious hypocrite. You'd hire a male reporter no matter if he'd robbed a bank and raped a girl on his way there. But a girl reporter? Oh, that's quite different. She must be as white as snow and above a thought of suspicion. You and your egotistic smugness. Saturated with liquor. If the blue noses can do business with a sot like you they might be able to pass me on the street without being contaminated. You adjudged me guilty without giving me a hearing. You didn't even ask me for my side of the story. Well, you can take your old job and stuff it in your ear. I don't think I'd want to work for a drunken, lying old sot like you, anyway. When it comes to hypocrisy you should be the professor of the class."
Her eyes flashing with indignation she whirled to leave. She ran right into a smiling fellow with dark wavy hair, wispy mustache and mocking, dark eyes. He held her in his arms a few brief moments before she twisted loose. Before she could obey her wrathful impulse and sail out the door he grasped her arm.
"Whoa. Wait a minute. What's the matter?"
She shook his hand off her arms, gave him a fleeting glance, turned her angry eyes on the red-faced publisher who looked as sheepish as a sheepskin lined coat.
"A promise from you, you old forked-tongued-goat, is worth about as much as a handful of wind in a burning desert." She whirled, opened the door and went out.
"Whew? Was she mad? I wouldn't be surprised to see her burst into flames," the man who'd caught her said, laughing. "What was wrong with her?"
"Nothing, nothing at all," Nichols said unhappily.
"Nothing? You mean to tell me a stunner like her just wound herself up and got into a rage like that for nothing. Are you kidding? Look, you didn't try to lay her right in here, did you? Look, wasn't that pretty little trick that Hibbons girl?"
"Yep, that was her."
"What was she so mad about?"
"Oh, she got sore because I didn't have a job for her," the publisher said lamely, frowning and working on his glasses again. His face advertised the fact that he used too much alcohol. Why in the hell had Brad Faulk come in just as the girl was making him look bad? Nichols couldn't dismiss Faulk's question with a shrug and nod. Not Brad Faulk. He had too much influence around town.
Faulk took out a cigarette, stuck it in his mouth and lit it. "Let's see now. She's been away somewhere hasn't she? Isn't her first name Sara?"
"Yes," Nichols said reluctantly, hoping that would end it.
"Where's she been?"
"Oh, off to some business school somewhere," Nichols sighed dismally, inwardly cursing the chance that had led Faulk to drop in at such an awkward time.
A tight little smile hovered on Faulk's lips as he watched the editor squirm. Faulk grinned in pleasure as he pictured himself relating the scene he had just witnessed. If only he could remember all the girl's scorching words. Faulk had dropped in to find out if Nichols planned on running anything on the fracas at the Twin Oaks Tavern four nights back. The daily paper had promised to run nothing. The owner of the Twin Oaks had discarded Faulk's juke box and put in one of his own. It had been smashed in a fracas that had been started near it.
"Nichols, are you running a story on the Twin Oaks fracas?"
"No," Nichols said, shaking his head. "Couldn't get the straight of it so I'm laying off it."
"Nichols, didn't I hear that pretty little Hibbons girl say you'd promised her a job?"
Nichols wondered whether Faulk would have remembered it had Sara been a homely, coarse looking girl. Nichols was sure he remembered it because Sara was such a pretty little trick. He decided he'd explain since he wanted to keep in good with Faulk.
"Yes, as a matter-of-fact I had promised her a job, Mr. Faulk. But that was over two years ago. Things have changed since then. I would still have hired her. But when I heard that story about her ... the one where she tried to blackmail a man for five hundred dollars ... well, the Courier simply can't afford to hire a person like that."
"Of course not," Faulk said sarcastically. "Of course not. But it can afford to accept advertising from places where liquor is sold openly over the counter. It welcomes ads from places that rent cabins to young couples with no questions asked. But of course you should know the best policy for your paper. I'm sure you do. And I'm sure the trade mark on your policy is a dollar mark."
He bade the publisher a polite good day and left.
Sara was too bitter and angry at Ben Nichols to look for another job. She walked back toward the hotel, meaning to calm down before starting out on her search. Only then did it pop into her head whom the handsome fellow was who'd caught her in his arms. He was Brad Faulk. The handsome fellow the girls in high school had voted the man they'd like to be on a deserted South Sea Island with. The fellow the older girls had slyly called Prince-Charming-Without-A-Horse. Sara had been too much of a child to be noticed by Faulk but she remembered a couple of older girls who'd been secretly in love with him.
"Let's see now," she mumbled to herself as she walked along. "I'm twenty and Brad Faulk must be about twenty-eight or twenty-nine. Maybe not that old. I never heard anyone say how old he was. He doesn't look over twenty-five."
She went to her hotel room, flopped down on her bed and slowly regained her composure. She smiled amusedly as she recalled the funny look on Nichols' face when she'd bawled him out.
Her eyes took on a determined glint. "I'll show that liquor-soaked, blue nose editor and all the other pious, how-good-I-am hypocrites. If they think they can run me out of town by pulling their skirts aside, giving me those holier-than-thou looks and refusing to hire me, they're sadly mistaken. I'll make them eat their actions and their thoughts ... no, I won't do that because some of them have thoughts that would make a buzzard sick."
She went out again to seek a job.
Late evening overtook her and she was still without a job. Several places had advised her ... in a kindly manner ... to go somewhere where she wasn't known and seek employment.
She ate sparingly that evening. She wanted to go to a movie but didn't dare to spend the money. She did splurge on a twenty-five cent magazine, took it to her room to read until bed time.
Les Holland called, wanted to "take her out. Sara fell back on the old reliable stall. She told him she had a splitting headache, begged off. She read awhile then went down to the lobby, joined an elderly group of men and women watching television. She got interested in the program, spent a most enjoyable evening without any expense.
Next morning she rode the elevator down and went to the grill for breakfast.
She was about to leave the hotel when she was paged and called to the phone. It was the Faulk Insurance office and a girl connected her with Brad Faulk.
"Hello, Miss Hibbons. This is Brad Faulk. The man you bumped into when you were leaving that old bastard ... I mean that old hypocrite's newspaper office. It's been a long time since I enjoyed anything as much as I did hearing you blast him the way you did. Look, have you found a job yet?"
"No, I haven't."
"Too bad. Come to my office. I have a job for you."
"Thank you, Mr. Faulk, but I can't accept," she said politely, quickly before she'd be tempted too strongly to turn it down. She simply didn't want a job in a wolf's den. That would be tempting the wolf too strongly. "I don't think I'd like ... haven't you heard that story about me?"
"Sure, sure but what of it? Haven't you heard stories about me?"
"I have no comment."
"You sound like a politician trying to duck a tricky question. Of course you've heard stories about me. Sure, I heard that sneaky, lying story about you. But I don't believe a damned word of it. I only need one look into that angelic face of yours to know you wouldn't do a thing like that."
"Thank you, Mr. Faulk."
"Now ... if you won't take a position in my insurance office I shall not insist. It might not work out, anyway. How would I get my work done? I doubt if I could. Every time I'd look up and see you I wouldn't be able to get my mind on my work again. I heard about that sister of yours selling the home and leaving with a carnival man. That was tough on you. It would be a blow to Daleville to lose a beauty like you. So I'll see what I can do about finding you a job."
"Never mind, Mr. Faulk. I'll find one myself."
"Are you kidding? Where would you find one? Don't hand me that sugared soft soap. The cards are stacked against you. But when I start throwing my Sunday pitch things will be different."
"I don't need your Sunday pitch. And I don't need you."
"Wow! You believe in being blunt anyway. What have I done to cause you to like me about as much as you do poison? The only thing I can think of is the gossip you've heard about me. Life is a funny thing. Here you are being punished because of a false story about you, yet you are punishing me because of false stories you've heard about me. Okay. I think you're sweet stuff. If Rip Van Winkle had ever seen you he wouldn't have gone to sleep."
"My, my, what a flatterer you are. Or did you just flip open a little notebook and quote some lines you always use when you begin a new conquest?"
He was silent a few moments and she wondered if he really was consulting his notebook. She had always believed he had been her sister's seducer. She'd never had the slightest proof to base her belief on. Maude had never named the man responsible. But Sara knew the man ... whoever he was ... had never come to the Hibbons' home He had always picked her up away from home This suspicion together with Faulk's reputation as a chaser and seducer of young girls was causing Sara to avoid him.
"Lines? The lines you're stacked up with makes a man want to hang his eyes on them," Faulk said. "When can I see you?"
"My, my, you must have just had your wolf teeth sharpened up. You're not going to see me at all."
"Aw, come now. Don't be so cruel. Surely you must need a friend."
"I never heard of a wolf making a good friend. Neither do I want you to help me find a job. I'll get along."
"Who's acting the hypocrite now? Acting as if you're too good to take a favor from a sinner. You'll never land a job in Daleville unless I help you. That lie about you has been handed around and enlarged on until folks think you're a reincarnation of Lucrezia Borgia. If they keep on embellishing it people will be looking for Jack The Ripper to come alive and join you."
"For the love of a biscuit! Am I really painted that bad?"
"You are. Men can jump further than women but women are quicker to jump at conclusions. Men are good jumpers at conclusions too. It's remarkable how many people will believe a piece of gossip without stopping to consider it. I ought to know. There's been more stories about me here than there have been about sea serpents. Anyway, even if you never speak to me again I can't see our city lose the best looking piece of scenery it's ever had."
"Never mind, Mr. Faulk." She hung up before he could reply.
She spent another morning hunting a job. It was all in vain. Some to whom she applied were nice to her. Others were cold. At noon when she returned to the hotel she was tired, discouraged but with no thought of quitting.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Miss Hibbons, you were asked to call this number when you came in," the clerk said, giving her a number.
Sara called the number. A girl answered, asked her name, told her to hold the line a few moments.
"Hello, hello. Is this you, Miss Hibbons?"
"Yes, I'm Sara Hibbons."
"Miss Hibbons, this is Charlie Guthrie, owner of the Guthrie Department Store. I've been told you have office training. I have a job for you in our office. Please report for work tomorrow at nine. Report to Madge Adamson."
Sara was so surprised she was barely able to mumble her thanks before Guthrie hung up.
The Guthrie store was the largest store in Daleville. It had the only escalator service in town. Charlie Guthrie was in his sixty-fifth year but he worked as hard as ever. His first wife had died ten years back and he had married again. His first marriage had been childless but he and his second wife had a five-year-old son. He was a tall, gangly man with piercing black eyes.
Sara reported for work next morning.
She reported to Madge Adamson, a short dumpy woman of forty-eight. But she ruled the Guthrie office because of her efficiency, not because of her seniority. She had been with the Guthrie store twenty-eight years. She was painstaking, paid no attention to working hours when there was a job to be done. She did insist that the girls under her look and dress decently, be efficient and earn their salaries. She often went out of her way to show kindness to a girl.
If Madge or any of the office personnel had heard the tale about Sara they gave no indication of it. Still Sara was sure all had heard it.
The office was a big one and equipped with modern machines and gadgets to give faster and smoother efficiency. At one side of the big store was a huge safe. Madge Adamson told Sara that it often contained thousands of dollars. The big door was left ajar all through the working day.
Charlie Guthrie came into the office several times but he didn't appear to notice a new girl was on the job. Sara wondered if he had forgotten her so quickly.
At noon Sara went to the nearby Holmer Grill for lunch. She found a back booth empty, sat down and gave her order. She was about half through the meal when she glimpsed a fellow with soft brown eyes, wavy dark hair and finely chiseled face standing before her. It was Brad Faulk.
"Hi there," he said jovially. "Found yourself a job yet?"
"As if you didn't know it," Sara returned with slight sarcasm.
She didn't ask him to sit down. He was striking in gray flannel suit, light tan shirt and bright green tie. But Sara was determined to have no part of him.
"It appears, Mr. Faulk that you used your Sunday pitch on Mr. Guthrie."
"Do you mind if I sit down?"
"It's a public place. Anyway I was about to leave."
She rose, picked up her check, tried to step by him. But he grasped her arm, grinned boyishly. "Now were you? I see fully half your lunch not eaten."
She pushed by him and he let her go. She took the check to the cashier.
"Your check has been paid," the cashier told her. "By whom?" asked Sara. "Mr. Faulk paid it."
Resentful and angry Sara had a momentary impulse to walk back and repay him the amount. But her better judgment prevailed. She left the grill and walked slowly toward the store, trying to remember all the things she'd heard about Brad Faulk.
Ugly gossip had fingered him as the seducer of a high school girl who had found herself pregnant. She'd been sent away to have her baby. The girl had never revealed the name of the baby's father. He had the reputation of a lady killer deluxe.
Many persons said he was the most polite man they'd ever seen. He was suave, sympathetic and mild of manner. His voice was rarely raised in anger. Sara knew he wasn't a native of Dale county but she didn't know where he hailed from. He had quickly made his mark in Daleville, financially and politically. She'd heard he controlled such rackets as juke boxes, slot machines and gambling. She'd heard he would have nothing to do with the prostitution racket. His insurance business was the biggest in town and it was strictly legitimate. She'd heard talk that he was mixed up in the liquor game, too.
Politically he controlled several hundred votes and it had been these votes that had elected the present sheriff.
His chief diversion was hunting. Not game but pretty girls and women. He had developed a technique that was almost fool proof. He had a smooth, polite and gentle approach, a brotherly type respect that brushes suspicions aside. He had the knack of making each new girl believe she was the only girl he'd ever loved. No witnesses, no trouble, no suits. That was his slogan. One girl, unwed and the mother of his baby ... so said the ugly rumors ... : had gotten a lawyer and tried a suit. Faulk's lawyer had defamed her, tagged the ugly label of extortioner on her, made her an object of public scorn. All she'd won had been shame, disgrace and defeat.
Even as she fought off his approaches Sara felt his charming attraction reaching out for her like the clutching whirl of a whirlpool. But she was determined to have nothing whatever to do with him.
She returned to the office a few minutes early, saw several girls in a whispering huddle. It broke up when she came in. She could easily guess what their subject was. Well, let them talk. She was sure she was going to like the job. She was beginning to catch on to things, could tell she was pleasing Madge Adamson.
When she left the store at closing time she found Les Holland awaiting her with an invitation to supper and a show. It was too late to feign a headache. She told him Mr. Guthrie might have some letters for her to write after supper.
"Wait here and I'll go and ask him," she suggested.
Mr. Guthrie had left the store but she found Madge Adamson still in. She asked Madge if she had a few letters for her to write after supper. When Madge looked at her in surprise, Sara nodded toward the front of the store. Madge caught on. She told her yes, there were two or three letters she could come back and write if she wished.
"I'm sorry, Les but I must come back after supper and write some letters," she told Les.
He was disappointed and she let him drive her home. She returned to the office, wrote a couple of letters, went back home.
Tuesday was a rainy day. Sara had been too busy to notice the rain. When she started out for lunch she was surprised to see the rain pattering down. As she stood there hesitant, Brad Faulk got out of a taxi standing at the curb, walked up to her and doffed his dripping hat.
"Please take this taxi, Jane. It is paid for and the driver has his instructions to take you anywhere you wish to go, wait for you and bring you back."
Faulk stood there politely, a friendly smile on his lips. A light in his dark eyes that was somewhat mocking, somewhat teasing.
Sara didn't return his smile. Instead she had frost in her eyes. "I prefer to walk, Mr. Faulk," she said icily. She turned away from him and walked off in the rain.
She felt a hand on her arm. Turning her head she recognized Ruby Sheckard who worked in the Guthrie office. Ruby was a blonde, an inch taller than Sara and was inclined to be skinny. She had large friendly eyes, freckles and a tongue that was rarely idle. When it came to store gossip Ruby was better than a store paper. She had taken a liking to Sara because Sara would listen to her chatter.
"Goodness me, Sara what on earth did you mean giving the cold shoulder to that handsome Mr. Faulk?"
"My, my, my," said Ruby with a dreamy sigh. "If he'd ever ask me to get in a taxi with him I'd get in fast. And when I got in I would strap myself in there with a safety belt so I...."
They went into Gerald's Grill.
"Sara, what do you have against Bradley Faulk?" asked Ruby when they were seated in a booth and starting on their lunch.
"Nothing ... if he leaves me alone. That's all I ask."
"Honey, he ain't going to let you alone," Ruby said. She paused in her knife and fork work to get out cigarettes.
"Oh yes he will," Sara said determinedly. "I shall have nothing to do with him. He'll have to hunt another subject for his seductions."
"They says he's seduced several girls," Ruby whispered awesomely. "Think of that. Several girls. My, my, oh my, don't you think it'd be wonderful?"
"What would be wonderful?"
"Why ... being seduced by that handsome Bradley Faulk."
Sara had to smile.
"Ruby, you talk like a hussy. If you're wanting to be seduced I don't think you'll have any trouble finding a man to accommodate you. I don't know what is coming over girls anyway. Maybe they're being born more sexy than they used to be. Or maybe their scruples are growing weaker."
"Oh, I didn't mean I wanted just any man to seduce me. No, no, no. I meant that if Bradley Faulk wanted me as he does you he wouldn't have to go to sleep disappointed at night."
"He doesn't want me. What makes you say such a silly thing."
"Don't make me laugh, I have a sore lip. Doesn't want you my eye. Why else would he hire a taxi and park it in front of the store, get in it and wait for you to come out for lunch? Why he...." The waitress brought more iced tea and Ruby stopped talking to sample it.
"How do I know? He's after you that's all I know. Maybe he's looking for the right girl to marry. Maybe he's decided you're the girl he wants to share his bed. Or to share his life if the other shocks you. You know, it's a funny thing. If a fellow should ask a girl to marry him so she can share his bed the girl would be insulted. Even though she knows darned well that a bed is where marriages are made or unmade. Tell me, honey. When you get married are you going to have twin beds?"
"Not unless my husband talks all the time like a certain girl I know."
"How long have you been working at Guthrie's?" asked Sara.
"Three or four years. I've had two salary raises. Charlie Guthrie is a good boss. The girl whose place you took worked six months and got married. She wasn't nearly, as pretty as you."
"Is that the reason I was hired? Because another girl quit?"
"Honey, did you think there was another reason?" Ruby looked at her oddly. "What other reason could there be?"
"Oh, I don't know. I had the idea that Mr. Faulk had whispered in Mr. Guthrie's ear."
"Could be," said Ruby as she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. She tapped a cigarette end on the table, lit it. "Yes, it could be. I happen to know that the Faulk Insurance offices handle all the store insurance."
Sara dropped the subject but Ruby rambled on and on. Apparently she was never at a loss for a subject to talk on. Sara smiled and let her talk. Ruby amused her even if she did say some shocking things. Ruby had been married and divorced, Sara had been told.
They finished their food and left the grill.
Outside Ruby asked her, "What if that handsome Bradley Faulk should dash up with another taxi? Would you brush him off again?"
"I don't care if he should dash up in a golden chariot and unroll a red velvet rug with my name on it in golden letters. I wouldn't give him a tumble. I'm not going to have anything to do with Mr. Wolf Faulk. Now, later or any other time. You can put that down in your little red notebook."
CHAPTER FIVE
Brad Faulk opened the door of the safe in his inner private office. Faulk did a big insurance business but he didn't do it all. While he owned the business he had a manager who was capable and aggressive. The entire personnel of the Faulk Insurance Agency were efficient, capable and loyal. They were well paid and treated well. There were three pretty girls in the offices, all single. But Brad was strictly business with them. He was well liked by his employes, being generous and thoughtful at all times.
He counted out one thousand dollars in twenties, put the money in a blank envelope, put the envelope in his pocket. He put on his gray Homburg hat, told his manager he would be gone a couple of hours, left the office.
As he walked toward the parking lot to get his car he breathed deeply of the warm June air. It had been a late and cold spring.
It was good to be outside but he wasn't going to enjoy the little chore he had before him.
He was on his way to Petting Place.
He got in his sedan, started the engine and backed it. Turning, he edged it into Maple Street.
A red light stopped him and he utilized the time to light a cigarette. As he neared the eastern city limits the traffic grew thinner and he was able to up his speed.
He passed the city limits. Houses were still numerous along the highway. He slowed up, put on a pair of dark glasses. As he drove toward Petting Place, seven miles from the city, he turned his memory backward.
Brad and his sister, Ethel had been the only children of Horace and Elizabeth Faulk. In the small northern city Brad had been well along in high school before he found out his father made his money from gambling and illicit liquor. This news hadn't bothered him, because he'd made the thrilling discovery that he attracted the high school girls as a magnet attracts bits of metal. The girls said he was the best looking boy in school and he didn't have to ask for dates. He had gotten a girl pregnant and had had to flee from home.
His father had kept him supplied with money. Within a year his father sent him word that everything was all right. There would be no trouble from the girl or her parents. Money had squared things. Brad had returned home.
In less than another year he had gotten another girl pregnant. This girl had refused to tell who was responsible. Brad was so grateful that he had persuaded his mother to pull a thousand dollars from the bank and give it to him. He had in turn given it to the girl.
After that Brad had valiantly tried to steer clear of girls. But he might as well have tried to quit breathing. He found he couldn't leave girls alone and they couldn't leave him alone. His older sister had gone off with an adventurer to South America. He had never heard from her again.
In less than six months his father had died. After that Brad had actually shaken off his delinquent ways and for nearly a year lived a respectable and model life. But in less than another year his mother had passed away, leaving him property and cash worth about forty thousand dollars.
With money and a new car at his disposal he went back into the business he knew best, seduction. As he matured and broadened his stature he found he didn't have to confine his activities to single girls. There were young and pretty wives who would smile with fluttery eyes and pinking cheeks. The pretty young wife of the mayor was one. With a figure that caused his eyes to gleam gleedily, soft dreamy eyes of blue and a fluffy head of bright golden hair, she was a picture. She had turned on the green light in her eyes and Brad had taken her for his next conquest.
A private eye had gotten the goods on him one night as he bedded with the foolish young wife.
Knowing the power of the mayor and knowing he would utilize every source of power he possessed to revenge himself, Brad had bribed the private eye to hold off for one week. In that period he had sold off his property, converted everything into cash and headed for Florida.
Desiring to drive through the Great Smoky Mountains he had reached Daleville late one night, knocked off until morning.
However in the daylight he had liked the town, the people and the scenery. He had stayed a couple of days to look it over. Becoming firmly convinced that the town was headed for a speedy and substantial growth, offering unlimited opportunities, he had forgotten about Florida and pitched his tent in Daleville.
He had put his cash in juke boxes, liquor and gambling. He had prospered fast. He kept gradually tightening his hold on the rackets. Ten years later he was in control. He had refused to have anything to do with the prostitution racket. He left that racket to the sheriff. In his second year in Daleville he had started his insurance business. It had grown fast and had been sound and successful.
He had often asked himself why he didn't marry. He'd been tempted to do so several times. But each time he had backed away. He had decided that enjoying the privileges and pleasures of married status without its responsibilities was too good a thing to give up. He hadn't been able to see why he should change it. However the real reason was the enjoyment, the thrills and the excitement of the hunt. When a new subject for his conquest hove into view his blood would be stirred, his nostrils would flare keenly. In the new exciting atmosphere he would detect a new and delectable beat to his pulse. He didn't like easy conquests, he despised pushovers. He loved a girl to fight against him, to keep pushing him off, make him battle hard for the final victory.
The lessons he'd learned in high school had never been forgotten. He had vowed that no detective would ever get the goods on him again. He'd worked out his campaigns of conquest so carefully that they were almost fool proof. In fact so carefully did he hide his tracks that lots of people refused to believe that he had ever seduced any woman. Since he didn't like used goods as well as new ones he had gradually shied away from young wives to focus his whole attention on virgins.
As he neared Petting Place a frown of annoyance passed over his face. Myra was a very pretty girl. She was a blonde, slim and splendidly formed. As well stacked up as any girl he'd ever seduced. She had given him quite a chase before she'd succumbed to his net. That first weekend with her in his cabin in the Smokies had been one of the most pleasurable ones he could recall. Ripe for love and responsive to his dallying, she had been a fierce little piece of passion that had left him gasping and grinning.
There had been other weekends, other love nests. He had come as close to falling in love with the little, curvaceous blonde as he ever had any girl. But the fires had eventually begun to show less heat and had burned slower. Until the day she had told him she was pregnant.
A special delivery note had called him to Petting Place, so named because so many petters and neckers used the old abandoned club building.
The urgency between the lines of the special delivery note had caused him to drop everything and attend to the call. Warned to never call his office, never to come there, Myra had sent the note. The girl had no people in the county, that being one reason he had selected her for his next conquest. She hailed from a state west of the Mississippi river. It was his plan to send her back there ... well paid ... with her baby. Brad did not believe in abortion, would not condone it. He could not stand the sight of warm flowing blood. It had always been a weakness with him since boyhood. Marriage had never been mentioned between himself and Myra. He knew the girl loved him and would gladly marry him. She had kept all the rules he'd laid down for her.
He was at the concluding part of another conquest and it was the part he didn't like. Girls became too possessive, too demanding, too confident that a man wouldn't punish himself by quitting them.
He wasn't sure that Myra was going to let him end things as smoothly and quietly as he planned.
He was within sight of Petting Place now and he slowed up and looked about for a sight of the girl. He saw no car. Knowing she drove her own car he wondered about it. He drove behind the old club house which had lost its old name and taken on the new name of Petting Place. He parked his car out of sight behind a clump of trees. He opened the car door, got out and stood beside the car. Lighting a cigarette, he looked about for the girl. He didn't understand why there was no sight of her.
"Hello, Brad. I wasn't sure you would come."
Myra came into view from behind a big oak tree. Looking beyond the oak he saw a portion of her car, almost hidden by leafy boughs. She looked neat, proud and was freshly coiffured as she always was.
"Why, Myra I can't imagine anything that could have kept me away," he said, offering her a boyish grin. "Look, that is certainly a double dare frock you have on. The top of it is really a blooming beauty. If it isn't a triple threat to any man I'll...."
"Stop it, Brad," she said bitterly. "Instead of trying to soften me up with flattery suppose you tell me why you've been avoiding me, dodging me and refusing to see me."
He stepped close and tried to take her in his arms. She pushed him away. There was bitterness in her eyes. A storm of anger was stirring in them that threatened to explode into a tirade of accusations.
"I've been very busy, Myra. I've had so many things to do."
"Oh, fiddle grease! You know better and I know better. You got me pregnant and now you want to drop me like I was a common whore. You treat me like a slut you've had your fun with and no longer wish to soil your hands with. You made me love you just as you knew you could. You led me to think you loved me. You gave me to understand you would never quit me."
Inwardly he was angry, vexed and annoyed. Outwardly he was still the same polite, suave and understanding lover boy who had beaten down all barriers to her heart. He had staked his claim on it and found the claim unchallenged. He put a look of pain in his soft, brown eyes, smiled sadly.
With a sudden movement he caught her to him, pulled her into his arms, kissed her with forceful, clinging lips.
"Don't say such things, Myra. You make me out a scamp and ugly monster. I'm here to assure you that I'm going to take care of you. I won't let you down. I have a thousand dollars in cash' for you."
She pushed away from his embrace, tears in her eyes. There were little moaning frustrated sobs in her throat.
"Money? You think you can heal a broken heart with money. You mention money but you don't mention marriage. So all the ugly stories I heard about you are true. All you care for is your own selfish pleasure and egotistical satisfaction of getting what you want. What do you care what you do to a girl's soul? "She wept in her hands as Brad watched uncomfortably.
He gathered her in his arms again, petting her, pouring gentle and smooth words into her ears. "Now, now, my dear you mustn't take it so hard. I'm not the marrying type and you know it. You can go to any hospital you select and I'll foot the bill. That in addition to your thousand dollars."
He took out the envelope containing the money, put it in her hand and kissed her. "If you need more you can let me know."
She lifted her head, looked at the envelope, looked into his unrelenting eyes. "What if I should see a lawyer, Brad? Suppose the lawyer should advise me to bring suit. Then what?"
For a brief instant she saw rage in his eyes. It was succeeded by something akin to pity.
"You'd have no case, Myra. We've never been seen together. We've never registered at any motel, hotel or any other place. I never took you to the same place twice in a row. Whom would you have for a witness? Just how would you go about proving I was the man responsible for your pregnancy? Remember that I also would have a lawyer. Would you be willing to take the stand and be cross-examined? No, Myra you wouldn't have any witnesses. But don't forget that I might have some. Witnesses who would swear they had enjoyed your favors in bed...."
"You're a devil!" she screamed at him. "You're not a man at all! You're guided by the devil himself. You ... you...." sobbing her heart out she opened her bag, took out a small revolver "I'll kill you if it's the last thing I ever do."
Springing forward like a cat, he grabbed her wrist before she could fire. A forceful wrench and he took the pistol from her. Myra sank to the ground, sobbing anguishly. He lifted her up gently.
She turned away, still holding the envelope containing the money, walked toward her car, still crying pitifully.
Brad watched her as she backed out and, without a backward look at him, drove from the wooded area into the highway. He stood watching until her car was out of sight. He lit a cigarette, got in his own car. He sat there quietly for several minutes smoking and thinking things over. It was the first time a girl had ever tried to shoot him. He wondered where Myra had procured the revolver.
Starting up the motor he drove slowly toward town.
It was time for a new face and new thrills. Sara Hibbons made his blood course excitedly through his veins. She whetted his desire as no girl ever had whetted it. Her beauty had hit him like a sledgehammer. He'd found however that her beauty was imbedded in steel. Instead of pliant, softly clinging finger tips she had claws. A frosty chill instead of a welcoming warmth. Oh well, frost could be quickly dissipated with warm tactics. Claws could be dulled with flattery, tenderness and male charm.
Brad smiled as he considered the way Sara had rebuffed him so far. He had no doubt of the final outcome. Not only did he have an abundance of male charm but in the use of it he had few equals. Several girls had played hard to get but he knew Sara wasn't playing that kind of game. He had sized her up, knew she was a different type altogether. He had read determination in her eyes. A steely determination that wouldn't quit once she had her dander up. He was convinced she meant to have nothing to do with him. But he had other ideas about it. She would be an antagonist worthy of all his skill. She would test all his slyness and cleverness. Common tactics would not land this delectable creature. He now knew he'd have to come up with something entirely new. Something he'd never used before. But he was sure he could do it.
CHAPTER SIX
As Sara and Ruby Sheckard were leaving the store for lunch next day they found Les Holland awaiting Sara at the front. A quiet unpretentious fellow, he was reticent and serious of nature. He wore a brown wool suit with pin stripes of blue, a cap and white shirt. It was quite plain to Sara that he had planned the front door ambush with the expectation of finding her alone.
"Hi, Sara. Surprised to see me? I came to take you to lunch."
"Hello, Les. You look like you're going to be guest speaker at a civic club luncheon. Don't tell me they've prevailed on you to join one." Sara knew he shied away from public gatherings.
Sara introduced Les and Ruby.
"I brought Mr. Faulk's car to him from the garage," Les went on. "I got it done sooner than I expected to. So I thought I'd spruce up some and maybe be lucky enough to take you out to lunch."
"Mr. Faulk's car? You take care of his car for him?"
"Do I?" Les grinned proudly. "He won't let another mechanic touch it."
"If you two will excuse me I'll go on," Ruby said, turning to leave.
"No, Ruby," Sara said quickly; grasping her arm. "I want you to go along with us." She didn't want to be alone with Les, being afraid she'd have to turn him down again. She liked him but she didn't love him. She was too honest to string him along, give him hope when there was no hope. "Les, you don't mind, do you?"
"Of course not. Please come along with us, Miss Sheckard."
They went to Gerald's Grill. It was crowded and they had to wait for a booth. After giving their orders they looked over the crowd.
"Mr. Holland, I heard you say you brought Bradley Faulk's car. Does that mean you work at a garage?" asked Ruby curiously.
"Les and his father operate a garage together," Sara said, looking at the strapping good looking youth with the curly brown hair. His eyes locked with hers. She quickly lowered her gaze onto her food. "Les, do you have other regular customers like Mr. Faulk? I mean other car owners who won't call anyone but you."
"Yes, I do," Les said proudly. "But none as particular as Mr. Faulk. He wants his car in perfect running condition at all times. When I take his car back to him he knows it's that way."
Sara wondered why Ruby was doing so little talking. Usually the slim, blonde girl chattered away constantly. But now she seemed to have lost her tongue completely. Sara decided to try and open the lid to her chatterbox.
"Ruby, what's the latest scandal among the Guthrie employees?"
"Nothing that I know of," said Ruby, shaking her head. "Everything is quiet and seems to be getting quieter. It's been too quiet lately. I wish something would happen to cause a little excitement. But it's just the same old routine day after day."
Les chuckled and said, "What would you do, Miss Sheckard if a robber came in and pointed his gun at you?"
"Goodness, I'd faint so fast his bullet would miss me."
Sara was busy with her food. Ruby continued, "You know, I don't see why a robber doesn't walk in there some day at noon and take that money Mr. Guthrie keeps in a sealed brown envelope in the safe. The safe door is usually open all throughout the day. It would be like taking candy from a baby. Sometimes there's not more than one or two girls left in the office at lunch time."
"It seems to me that Mr. Guthrie should keep the safe locked," Sara said. "Seems like seeing money in the safe and the door open might cause temptation to get hold of some employe. However I suppose Mr. Guthrie thinks all his employees are to be trusted and therefore sees no need in locking the safe door. After all it utilizes some time to work the combination each time one wants to get in the safe."
"That's true," Les said, nodding his head.
They finished their lunches, Les paid the tabs. He bade Sara goodbye at the door and walked off alone.
"I think he's disappointed," Sara said regretfully. She and Ruby walked back toward the store.
"Sara, that good looking fellow is so wildly in love with you he doesn't know his elbow from a fiddle bow," Ruby said, giggling. "He's a bell ringer for looks. I saw that brunette waitress throwing admiring looks at him. But I can see you don't go for him. How long has he had this hopeless crush on you?"
"Ever since we were in high school together. Les is a wonderful fellow. He would do anything in the world for me. He has often told me so."
"Anything? Would he be best man if you were marrying Bradley Faulk?"
"I'm talking about possible things. Not something impossible such as you named. I know you were joking but please don't ever couple my name with his in such a sacred thing as marriage. Since you asked a foolish question I'll give you a sensible answer. Les Holland would even do that for me if I asked him."
"My, my, a regular love slave. I wish I could get some guy that crazy about me." Ruby sighed, gave Sara a quick look. "Has he ... I mean is he the type of halo wearer who expects a girl to be perfect?"
"I get it, Ruby. You started to ask me whether he had heard that awful, shameful story about me.
Yes, he's heard it and he doesn't believe a word of it. Do you believe it, Ruby?" Sara looked straight at Ruby, smiled amusedly.
"Of course not, Sara." Ruby said it too hastily to suit Sara.
That evening at quitting time it was pouring down rain. Sara stood under the canopy watching the rain and wondering how she was going to get home.
A taxi pulled up. The cabbie opened the door for her. Sara was glad to get in. She didn't pay much attention to the man who sat in the taxi.
"Well, well, isn't this a coincidence, Miss Hibbons?"
Startled, Sara turned her head, looked into the smiling face of Brad Faulk. Once again he'd used a taxi. This time she'd fallen for it.
For a long moment her temper flared. Hot words rushed to the tip of her tongue. But, swiftly realizing how useless any angry utterances would be, she bit her lip and remained quiet. She knew it wasn't a coincidence but also knew she couldn't prove it. Now as she noticed the smug, mocking little smile on his lips, she knew he was capable of many tricks.
"Stop and let me out," she told the cabbie.
"No ... stop and let me out," Faulk ordered.
The taxi stopped. Faulk gave the cabbie a bill. "Keep the change. Take Miss Hibbons to her destination." He turned his mocking eyes on Sara. "I'm sorry, Miss Hibbons. Please forgive me." He bowed politely and left the taxi.
Madge Adamson had taken a liking for Sara.
Next morning she invited Sara to have lunch with her. As they enjoyed lunch together Madge told her she didn't believe a word of that lying story that had preceded Sara to Daleville. When Sara told her she hadn't been able to find a room because all the rooming houses believed the awful story about her, Madge was indignant.
"Sara, I have a sister-in-law who owns a big house on Murray street. She and her husband occupy it. I'm going to get you a nice room there. You can absolutely count on it. I'll show some of those pious, halo-wearers they can't persecute a fine decent girl that way. The idea of jumping at conclusions that way. Most people are that way. They hear a malicious story about someone and believe it without waiting to weigh it in the truth balance."
"Thank you, Madge. I'm glad to hear you say that."
Madge was as good as her word. Sara moved into the nice home next day, occupying an upstairs room overlooking Murray street.
Brad Faulk tried again.
Sara was lunching alone at the Star Restaurant. She'd found a booth just vacated, had sat down and given her order. She paid little attention when a man set down a platter of food opposite her. She thought he was a waiter. But when he sat down opposite her she looked into the beaming face of Brad Faulk.
"Hello, Sara," he said politely. "You'll please excuse me for calling you by your first name but it does seem a little silly to call you Miss Hibbons. After all we're old acquaintances. I see you moved out of the hotel to a room on Murray street in the home of Roger and Agnes Gelnie. Murray is one of the biggest streets in town and the Gelnies are highly respected in Daleville."
"You certainly seem to pay a lot of attention to my affairs, Mr. Faulk, even though they do not concern you. Since you look very hungry suppose you eat both lunches."
So saying, she rose to go.
"Come, come, now, Sara. Be a good sport," he urged persuasively, grasping her wrist. "I'm sorry. Won't you forgive me and sit down? The way your pretty eyes flash I'm afraid I'll be struck by lightning."
"Please turn me loose."
But instead he turned loose his magnetic smile on her and held on. Sara angrily jerked loose. Walking to the cashier she paid her check and left.
The afternoon was about half done when Charlie Guthrie came into the office. He had a couple of large envelopes with rubber bands about them.
"Miss Hibbons, please take these policies to the Faulk Insurance office. Mr. Faulk wishes to check them. Bring them right back when he gets through with them."
As she bore the envelopes to Faulk's office Sara wondered if this was another one of his tricks. He could easily have asked for the policies, pretending he wished to check them. She knew however it could be on the up and up. No matter which it was she had to obey her boss.
She entered the tastefully furnished offices which were modernly equipped. The girl receptionist took her name, told her Mr. Faulk was awaiting her in his private office. Sara went back to his office, rapped on the door. He invited her to come in. She did so and Faulk, no mocking smile on his face this time, pushed out a chair for her. Sara gave him the insurance policies.
He opened the envelopes, busied himself with the policies.
"Miss Hibbons, do you mind if I ask you a question?"
"Of course not."
"What is it you have against me?"
"I came here strictly on business, Mr. Faulk. Please remember that."
"Of course. But don't you think it sporting to tell me why I seem to be poison to you?" Sara made no reply and he went on, "Look, it was rough on you when that lying story got to Daleville ahead of you. You knew it wasn't true and you were deeply hurt when people believed it. Now, do you think it fair to believe similar stories about me? Without even giving me a chance to refute them?" He looked into her hazel eyes steadily and hopefully.
"Stories about you are of no interest to me, Mr. Faulk."
He shrugged, shook his head sadly.
"I'm very much interested in you, Sara. Tell me this. If a shameful story about you is untrue isn't it possible that some similar and shameful stories about me could also be untrue?"
"I do not know and I'm not interested enough to find out."
"Wow! You do it hard, don't you? I'll say one thing. You're the iciest girl I've ever been up against."
She made no reply and he resumed his examination of the policies.
"How do you like your position at Guthrie's?" he asked.
"I like it fine."
He looked over a policy a few moments, laid it down and pushed a button on his desk. When a tall slender girl with brown hair came in he gave her the policy. "Please check this with our records, Miss Heaton." The girl took the policy and went out.
He smiled at Sara who sat stiffly in her chair. "Sara, if you'll unbend and relax a little you'll find that chair more comfortable."
"I find it quite comfortable."
"Isn't there something I can do to get through your ice barrier?"
"Why me, Mr. Faulk? There are many other girls. Girls whom you'd have a chance with. I'm not wolf bait."
"So you think I'm a wolf?"
"I didn't say so. In fact I never think about you at all."
"If you only would," sighed Faulk dismally, shaking his head sadly. "If you only would. If you'd only get the frost out of your eyes and smile at me ... just one time."
"My smiles are not for sale," she said, regarding him stonily.
He busied himself with the other policies. If he was actually studying the insurance policies ... or was he trying to study up a way to get through her ice barrier?
Miss Heaton came back in with the policy. "There was an error, Mr. Faulk, a date error. I corrected it."
"Good. Thank you, Miss Heaton."
The girl went out and Faulk looked swiftly through another policy, the last one. He put the rubber band about the packet. "Please tell Charlie Guthrie they're okay. Only one error and we corrected it." He rose, walked from behind his desk, gave the packet to Sara.
She took the packet, turned to go. He put his hand on her wrist. "Please listen one more minute."
Sara hesitated, relented. "Very well, Mr. Faulk."
"I'm practically getting down on my knees and begging you to unbend just a little and give me a chance to prove I'm not such a bad fellow. Soften up that stony heart of yours, Sara. I'm not going to bite or hurt you. Is it fair to convict anyone without a hearing?
"Really, Mr. Faulk I'm not interested one way or the other. Now, if you'll excuse me...."
"Wait. Let me drive by for you this evening. We'll drive out to...."
"To Petting Place?" she asked sarcastically.
"Of course not. We'll go anywhere you say. How about it?"
"I say no," she replied coldly, giving him an even colder look. "You're quite a determined masher, Mr. Faulk. Or perhaps an uglier word would be more suitable. Now let me tell you something which I hope I won't have to repeat. I'm not going out with you any time no matter what kind of tricks you think up. I want nothing to do with you and I hope you can get it in your smug, conceited head."
Faulk grinned wryly, shook his head sadly. "You make it clear enough, Miss Hibbons. Quite clear. I'm sorry you feel that way."
When she was gone he smiled ruefully, sat down and lighting a cigarette, sat there blowing out smoke thoughtfully.
He was more determined than ever to possess her. Sly and clever trickery would not do. He was up against something he would have to bring up the heavy artillery to penetrate. This delectable creature could never be brought down with tricks he'd used successfully before. He sat there for some little time racking his brain for a plan. He smoked three cigarettes before he finally thought of something. When he reached for the phone he wore a grim little smile on his lips.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sara found she was liking her job better every day. She had proven she was efficient, fast and accurate. She was gratified to know she was being accepted for her own self despite the ugly story which had preceded her to town. She was usually the last in the office to leave for her lunch and was usually the first to return.
This day was no exception. As she walked toward the front entrance she saw Charlie Guthrie leaving in front of her. Ruby Sheckard had gone with a friend. Sara lunched alone at Gerald's Grill.
She was about half through her lunch when she was called to the phone. As she walked to the phone she wondered who could be calling her. She hadn't told anyone she was going to Gerald's Grill.
"Hello. Is that you, Miss Hibbons?"
"Yes, this is Sara Hibbons."
"Miss Hibbons, please return to the office immediately. Get that long brown, sealed envelope from the safe. It has my name on it. Bring it to me at Nort's Sign Shop."
"Oh, is that you, Mr. Guthrie?"
"Certainly. Please hurry."
"Where is Nort's Sign Shop?"
"In the alley between Maple and Wanger streets. You turn into the alley at the Chessley drug store. Please hurry. I'm waiting."
"Very well, Mr. Guthrie."
Sara left the grill and hurried back to the Guthrie office. There was one girl there, a Miss Johnson. Sara pulled the unlocked safe door open. She found the large brown sealed envelope with Charlie Guthrie's name on it. Leaving the office with the envelope she walked up Maple street to the Chessley drug store. Turning into the alley she walked on. She was wondering why Mr. Guthrie had called her, why he wanted the brown envelope. It was fat and thick and she'd heard it contained money. Why did he want the money brought to Nort's Sign Shop? Well, it wasn't for her to ask why. The boss had phoned her, ordered her to get the money and bring it there to him. She was obeying orders.
As she was passing a narrow opening between two buildings a slim fellow with hat brim pulled low over his eyes, darted from the opening. He grabbed the brown envelope from Sara and, before she could recover from her startled surprise, darted back between the two buildings and ran at full speed through it.
The last glimpse Sara had of him was at the far end of the opening.
She ran back to Maple street, looked up and down the street for a cop. She saw one directing traffic at the corner. She ran as fast as she could to the officer.
"I've been robbed! In the alley at the Chessley drug store! A man jumped out from between two buildings, snatched a brown envelope I was carrying to Mr. Charlie Guthrie and fled back through the opening between the two buildings. I saw him disappear at the far end."
"What was in the envelope?" asked the officer, eyeing her curiously.
"I don't know. It was sealed. Mr. Charlie Guthrie phoned me at Gerald's Grill where I was having lunch. He told me to go get the envelope from the safe in the Guthrie office and bring it to him at Nort's Sign Shop. Please, please do something."
The cop looked around, caught sight of another officer walking in the next block. He blew his whistle loudly. The other officer turned as he heard the whistle and came at a run.
"Come with me," the first cop said to Sara. "Show me where you were robbed."
Sara guided him to the spot. After going to the far end of the opening, the officer came back and went to a phone. He called headquarters and rer ported the robbery. As he waited the officer asked her to describe the robber.
"I'm afraid I didn't get too good a look at him," she said. "He had his hat brim down over his eyes. He was slim and very agile and fast. You see, I was almost past the opening there when he leaped from it. He had the envelope and was turning his back before I realized what was happening. All I saw was his back as he ran at full speed through the opening. I'm sorry I can't give you a better description of him."
"Miss, you say Charlie Guthrie told you to get the brown envelope and bring it to Nort's Sign Shop?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Come with me. We'll go to the sign shop."
When they got to the shop Sara learned ... to her amazement ... that Charlie Guthrie was not there. Furthermore he hadn't been there.
The officer, who was now beginning to eye Sara suspiciously, asked her, "how do you know it was Mr. Guthrie who called you?"
Sara flushed uncomfortably. A panicky feeling of fear was beginning to take hold of her. A sickening uneasiness was gripping her heart.
"Well, it was a deep male voice just like Mr. Guthrie has. And he talked so urgently and so compellingly ... I was so sure it was Mr. Guthrie that I didn't stop to question it."
The officer studied the girl. Her entire story sounded phony to him. She had told him her name and it had rang a bell somewhere. He was trying to remember what it was he'd heard about her. It slipped his mind. Still, he decided, Charlie Guthrie could have called her from another place. He decided he would ask Charlie Guthrie about it.
"Come with me, Miss Hibbons. We'll go to the Guthrie store and ask Mr. Guthrie about it."
She went with him to the Guthrie store. Charlie Guthrie was on the balcony. He watched curiously as Sara and the officer ascended the steps.
"Mr. Guthrie," the officer said as they confronted the store owner, "Miss Hibbons says you called her at Gerald's Grill. She says you ordered her to get a large sealed brown envelope from the office safe and bring it to you at Nort's Sign Shop. She claims that as she was walking down the alley a slim man jumped out from between two buildings. She says this man seized the brown envelope from her hand and fled. Did you order her to bring you the brown envelope?"
"Of course not," Guthrie said grimly. "There was two thousand dollars in that envelope. Miss Hibbons, what is the meaning of this?"
Sara's face had lost its color. Her eyes mirrored fear as she stared at her employer incredulously. She was bewildered and badly frightened. She could hardly believe it had happened. Was it possible she had been made the victim of a plot to steal the two thousand dollars?
"But ... but, Mr. Guthrie, someone did call me. He had a deep voice just like yours. He knew all about the brown envelope in the safe and he kept urging me to hurry. He said he was awaiting me at Nort's Sign Shop. I asked if it were you and he said it was and again told me to hurry. I cannot understand it."
The officer and Guthrie exchanged looks.
Guthrie looked at Sara with narrowed eyes. "I was warned about employing you, Miss Hibbons. I ignored the warning because I wanted to give you a chance. And this is the way you repay me. Take her in, Officer. I'll prefer charges."
"No, no, Mr. Guthrie. I'm innocent," Sara said as tears welled to her eyes. "You're making a mistake. I didn't take the money. The story I told is the truth. You must believe me."
"Miss Hibbons," Guthrie said as he removed his glasses and polished them. "If you expect any kindness or leniency from me I suggest you make a start toward returning my money."
"But I have no idea where the money is. How can I return it when I did not steal it," Sara managed to say between sobs. "I was sure it was you who called me. I did just as the voice ordered me to do. The envelope was taken from me in the alley."
"You surely must have had a look at the man," the officer said. "Can't you tell us anything about him?"
"Nothing more than what I've already told you. He had his hat brim pulled down over his eyes.
He was slender and very fast. He moved so fast I didn't get a good look at him."
"I'm sorry, Miss Hibbons," Guthrie said, "but I cannot believe such a story. I doubt if anyone else will."
"Come along," the officer said.
She walked with the officer to the jail, being grateful that he didn't hold her arm all the way. She was placed in a cell in the women's section of the jail. When the door was locked between her and freedom she flung herself on the bed and wept. So pitifully that Mrs. Rubenly, the matron, came into her cell and tried to comfort her.
"You must not give way to despair, child," she said kindly. "All is not lost yet. You're not the first girl who has been in jail. And you won't be the last one. Now, child, tell me what I can do to help you?"
"You can help get me out of here on bail," Sara said tearfully. "I'm innocent and I want out of here."
"Now, now, child you mustn't take it so hard. You'll have a chance to prove your innocence. If I were you I'd calm myself and try to relax. Now, if there is anyone you'd like for me to notify for you?" The matron stopped and waited for her reply.
Sara considered Les Holland but quickly dismissed her impulse to send for him. "No, there is no one. But it's very kind of you to want to help me."
The kindly matron remained and talked soothingly for several more minutes. Under her gentle words Sara was able to dry her tears and relax considerably.
The afternoon seemed very long but it finally passed. She had little appetite for her evening meal but managed to eat most of it. She was surprised at the quality and amount of food they gave her. Not only was it good but there was plenty. Hadn't she read something that jail prisoners got very little to eat?
The matron brought not only magazines and books but also a better light to plug in.
Sara busied herself with the magazines, and went to bed. For quite a while she lay awake with troublesome and chaotic thoughts. But finally she did fall asleep and slept soundly.
Next morning at ten Les Holland came to visit her.
"I'm so sorry, Sara," he told her. "I know you didn't take that money. It's simply some more of the tough luck pursuing you. Someone framed you. From what I've been told the thief planned it very carefully. He used you because you were new in the office and would be less suspicious. I'm going to hire a private detective to work on it."
"Thank you, Les. But won't a private detective cost a lot of money?"
"I don't care if it does. I don't care what it costs."
Les had all the looks of a fellow who wanted to kiss her but Sara didn't turn on the green light. Les was only a friend and she meant to keep it that way. She wondered if she should mention bail to him. She decided she wouldn't. She much preferred to have a private eye working on the case than to be free on bail. Jail wasn't near as bad as she'd thought it would be. Anyway she was too ashamed to face people on the outside. She hated to let Les hire a private eye for her but felt she had to grasp any straw in sight. She resolved she would pay him back later.
Les had brought her magazines, cigarettes and candy.
"Sara, I'll also get a lawyer and let him work on bail for you."
"No, Les. Not right now. I'd much rather you hired the detective for me. Doing both would be too much expense on you. Anyway I'd be ashamed to face folks on the outside. I'm being treated so nice in here. The matron, Mrs. Rubenly is one of the nicest ladies I ever met. Of course I'd like to be free but as I said, I'd rather have a private detective working in my behalf. It's so good of you, Les to offer to do all this for me."
"But, Sara it's nothing. I'd do anything in the world for you. Anything."
She knew he was speaking the truth.
"You're a wonderful fellow, Les. Just about the finest fellow I've ever known."
Les took his leave, telling her he'd get in touch with a private eye at once. He very definitely wanted to kiss her but Sara gave him no encouragement.
Later in the day Ruby Sheckard came to see her.
The matron turned her room over to them for the meeting. Ruby threw her arms about Sara and kissed her. "Oh, how sorry I am, Sara. I don't believe it. I don't believe you had anything to do with it. Even if all the evidence in the world was against you there was one thing about it that proves to me you were innocent."
"What, Ruby? What can it be?'."
"The fact that you went into the office and took the brown envelope containing the money from the safe with Ethel Johnson watching you. Ethel said you displayed no nervousness whatever, gave no sign whatever that you were robbing a safe. She said you acted just as normally as you ever did. You were framed. I don't know by whom but I'm sure you were."
"You mean by the man who snatched the money from me?"
"Certainly. He must have been watching the place for several days and getting the lay of the land. I think he must have picked you because you are the newest employe, figuring you'd be less likely to suspect a trick."
"The voice was just like the voice of Mr. Guthrie."
"Of course. Whoever it was ... whether one or more than one ... they knew they must have a voice phone you that would not arouse your suspicion. As it proved, the voice was what put it over. You were so sure it was Mr. Guthrie calling that you fell all over yourself to carry out the commands."
"Yes," admitted Sara sadly. "What a fool I was."
"It's too bad. Don't let it worry you too much. I'll do all I can to help you. I'll come to see you every day."
Sara slept much better the second night. Her meals were excellent and her cell was clean and neat. She even told herself she wouldn't have to pay for her board, forced herself to smile. She wondered idly if Bradley Faulk had heard of her plight. Would he come to see her and offer to bail her out? She had no way of knowing but she knew she would refuse his offer. She wanted nothing from Brad Faulk. Not even his helping hand in a dire time of need.
On Thursday which was her third day in jail the matron brought her the new issue of the Dale County Courier. Ben Nichols had given the story a good play on page one. The Daily Banner had practically ignored the story. Sara wondered if this was Nichols' way of getting revenge for the tongue lashing she'd given him.
The third day went along in the same old jail routine. Ruby came to see her at her lunch time, told her most of her fellow employes thought she was innocent. Sara was sure Ruby was just telling her that to cheer her up. How could they believe her innocent right after that shameful story from Cincinnati had already made people suspicious of her?
Next morning Les Holland brought the private eye he'd hired to talk to her. He was a slight man with straight brown hair and expressionless gray eyes. He asked Sara a lot of questions, got the same story she had told officers. He made her describe the fellow in the alley time and again but she could add nothing to what she'd already said.
"He's already worked some on the case," Les told her. "But he's turned up nothing, not even a single clue. But we'll keep working on it. You just take it easy and don't worry." He kept looking hopefully at her and his eyes plain told her he wanted to kiss her. But Sara wasn't in a kissing mood.
Saturday afternoon Mrs. Rubenly led Sara into her room.
"Sara, I've talked the sheriff into something he was reluctant to do. I talked him into letting me drive you out into the country for some fresh air. I promised to take full responsibility. Of course I must have your promise that you will not try to escape."
"I'd rather die than to do that to you after the kind way you've treated me, Mrs. Rubenly. You have my promise."
The two slipped into the matron's car behind the jail and Mrs. Rubenly drove swiftly out into the country. Parking the car she and Sara enjoyed a walk in the woods. They remained two hours. When they drove back and slipped into the jail by the back way they found a very worried sheriff. He was greatly relieved to see them.
Saturday night was just like all other nights at the jail.
Sunday morning Sara could look out and see people on their way to church. The world outside seemed so peaceful, serene and quiet. As she watched the churchgoers pass by she wondered how many of them had visited anyone in the jail the past year.
CHAPTER EIGHT
She slept soundly Sunday night and the matron let her sleep late the next morning. It was nearly ten by the time Sara had finished her breakfast, cleaned and tidied up. Around ten-thirty Mrs. Rubenly came to her cell, told her she had a visitor. She unlocked the door.
"In my room, Sara. He's awaiting you there."
"Thank you, Mrs. Rubenly."
The visitor was Brad Faulk. He didn't smile. Instead he told her he knew she was innocent of the charge.
"Thank you, Mr. Faulk," Sara said gratefully.
He gave her a cigarette, lit it for her. Sara wondered why he had come to visit her.
"Sara, I know you want nothing to do with me. That I regret very much. Still I'm going to help you. I came here to tell you I do not believe you're guilty. In fact I'd bet my life on your innocence. I'm a good judge of people. You're just not the type. You couldn't steal anything if you tried." He paused and grinned boyishly. "The only thing you can steal is something you don't try to steal. My heart."
Jane made no reply.
"I'm going to help you, Sara. I talked to Jep Umbree the cop whom you called after the theft. He told me the story you gave him, told me how earnestly you insisted it was true. I believe that story. Now I have some connections in this town that most people don't have. Well, through the grapevine I got a tip on a fellow who closely fits the description you gave of the slim man who robbed you. I'm having him watched closely by several of my friends. Just as soon as they turn up something ... if they do ... I'll go to work on him."
Sara dabbed at her eyes. "How can I ever thank you, Mr Faulk?"
"Don't try to. I want it understood that I'm not doing this to put you under obligation to me. I'm not trying to put a pressure of gratitude on you so you'll be obligated to be nice to me." He spoke the words sternly, looking steadily into her eyes. "Nothing of the kind. I expect nothing from you in return."
"But ... but, Mr. Faulk, I...."
"You needn't answer. Anyway I'm going to show you I can do something for a pretty girl without getting paid for it."
He bowed politely and left.
When Mrs Rubenly escorted her back to her cell Sara asked, "Mrs. Rubenly, what is your opinion of Mr. Bradley Faulk?"
"I think he's a very good looking man."
"I didn't mean that. I mean his character."
"Child, I wouldn't know how to answer that. I've heard stories. But for that matter I've heard stories about other people. A court holds that a person is innocent until he's proven guilty. I shall not believe all the stories on Mr Faulk until someone proves to me that they are true."
In the middle of the afternoon Les Holland and the private eye came to talk to Her again. The detective had found out absolutely nothing. He acted as if he didn't believe Sara had told him all she knew. Sara insisted she had told everything. He asked her questions about her past. Sara knew he had heard the story from Cincinnati. Studying the man closely she became convinced he thought she was guilty. Still he promised he would continue to work hard on the case. Why shouldn't he? He was getting well paid for it. Still Sara didn't want to lose his help even if he did think she was guilty.
She slept late next morning and again had a late and leisurely breakfast. That was one good thing about jail she decided. One could eat meals leisurely and without haste.
Around eleven the sheriff and Mrs. Rubenly came to her cell.
"Miss Hibbons, will you please come with us to my office," the sheriff asked politely.
"Yes, of course."
His voice had been so kind and apologetic she wondered at it. His polite manner? She knew prisoners weren't ordinarily treated with such respect. What was up? She was curious as she followed them into the sheriff's office.
In the office she saw Brad Faulk, Charlie Guthrie, two deputies and a slim man with sharp chin, black hair and shifty eyes. Charlie Guthrie looked very uncomfortable.
"Now, Dinky," Faulk said sternly to the slim man. "Tell Miss Hibbons the same thing that you confessed to me."
The man called Dinky ran his tongue over his lips, shifted his gaze from one person to another, finally found speech. "I phoned Miss Hibbons and told her I was Charlie Guthrie. I told her to get that money in the sealed brown envelope in the safe and bring it to me at the sign shop in the alley. She fell for it. I hid in that narrow opening between two buildings. When she was passing by I jumped out, grabbed the envelope and ran as fast as hell through that narrow opening."
Listening to him Sara was amazed at the way his voice doubled for Charlie Guthrie's voice. She could now understand why she hadn't questioned it when he'd told her he was Guthrie.
"How did you find out about the money in the safe?" demanded Guthrie.
Dinky glared at him, said nothing.
"You're free to-go, Miss Hibbons," the sheriff said kindly. "I've already attended to the necessary legalities. And I want to tell you I'm really pleased. I'm sorry we had to pick you up but please understand we were just doing our duty."
Mrs. Rubenly came over, kissed Sara. "I'm so glad for you, Sara. I just knew you weren't guilty.
Not after I got to know you. I hope you will come back to see me."
"Oh, I shall," Sara said, smiling. "But not as a prisoner, I hope."
Charlie Guthrie came over apologetically. "Miss Hibbons, can you ever forgive me? It was a cruel mistake and it hurts me deeply to think I questioned the honesty of a fine, decent girl like you. I hope you will come back to work in the morning as usual."
"It wasn't your fault, Mr. Guthrie. I'll be glad to return to work."
Dinky was escorted to a cell. Sara turned to thank Brad Faulk but he wasn't there. He had quietly slipped out. She asked the sheriff if Faulk had pinned the theft on Dinky.
"He did the whole thing, Miss Hibbons. Not only did he pin it on Dinky but he recovered all of the money except a few dollars."
Sara left the jail with mingled emotions. She was joyful at being free again. She was deeply grateful to Brad Faulk. He had accomplished something a private detective had been unable to do. She wanted badly to thank him. Why had he slipped away without giving her a chance to voice her thanks? Had he been afraid she would try to repay him by being nice to him? Wasn't that what he wanted? Or had he been sincere when he'd said he wasn't doing it because he expected payment from her? She wondered. But when she considered the bad things people said about him, she was doubtful.
Les Holland hailed her as she was walking toward a taxi stand. She stopped and he offered to take her to her room on Murray street. Sara would have preferred to go alone but she felt she owed him something. After all he had hired a private eye for her and tried to help her. She accepted, walked with him to his car.
"Les, how did you know I was free?"
"The detective got wind of what was happening and phoned me. I hurried to town. Was on my way to the jail when I saw you."
He swung into the traffic and moved slowly along toward Murray street. "Sara, you should be very grateful to Mr. Faulk. The private eye was unable to turn up a thing. He said if he'd had the same stoolies working for him that Mr. Faulk had he could have broken it, too."
"I am grateful to him, Les. He slipped away before I could thank him."
He parked before the Gelnie home on Murray street. Sara knew he wanted to kiss her but she didn't want to kiss him. She thanked him as she opened the car door to get out. He asked her if she wanted him to wait for her.
"No, Les. I'm not going back to the store until morning."
He wanted to take her out to dinner and a show but Sara brushed him off by saying she wanted to rest, iron some clothes and get ready for work again. He left her but she could see he was badly disappointed.
The Gelnies treated her as if she'd been away on a short visit. Sara didn't mention her experience. She knew they'd heard about it.
As she busied herself, she wondered what she would do should Brad Faulk accost her again. She owed him too much to scorn him as she'd been doing. No, she must treat him kindly. She wanted to show him how much she appreciated what he'd done. What if he should ask her to meet him somewhere and talk to him? Would she do it out of appreciation for what he'd done? She didn't know whether she would or not. She did know she had a sincere desire to repay him. But for Brad Faulk she'd still be in jail.
Ruby Sheckard called, told Sara the entire store personnel was so happy that she'd been vindicated.
"Madge Adamson told us all from the start you weren't guilty," Ruby said. "I think she's the happiest of all. She likes you, Sara. Mr. Guthrie made it a point to tell each employe how sorry he was over his unfortunate mistake. You're going to be a girl hero when you come back to work. Look, has Bradley Faulk asked you for a date?"
"Certainly not. What makes you ask that?"
"Well, I'll bet he does. What will you do if he does?"
"Ruby, I won't cross that bridge until I get to it."
"I heard that good looking Lesley Holland took you home from the jail. Are you going out with him tonight?"
Sara was a bit vexed with Ruby. She was being a little too nosey. How had she found out Les had brought her home?
"Ruby, you asked me about something I promised I wouldn't discuss."
"Promised? Whom did you promise?"
"Myself."
Ruby got it. She chattered on a bit longer, hung up.
Sara went out to a neighborhood eating place for her evening meal. As far as she could see no one in the place recognized her. She wondered if that old reprobate, Ben Nichols, would give as much space to her vindication as he had to her arrest. She doubted he would.
Sara went to a small neighborhood movie that evening.
Back in her room she selected her attire for next morning, took a shower and prepared to go to bed. Before she fell asleep she was still wondering what she'd do if Brad Faulk should ask her to meet him. When she closed her eyes and went to sleep she still hadn't decided.
CHAPTER NINE
Sara dismissed the cabbie near Petting Place, stood and watched him drive back swiftly toward town.
Petting Place was near an old abandoned rock quarry nine miles from town. The old clubhouse still stood since it had been built of rock. But windows had been broken out, doors smashed in and much of the abandoned tables, chairs and other fixtures inside had been stolen or burned in the big open fireplace which looked as sound as ever. It was an isolated spot, off the main highway and about the only cars ever coming that way bore couples. In daytime it was rare that a car pulled up before it. Lovers not only wanted isolation but desired darkness too.
Sara stood breathing in the fresh country air, listening to bird calls in the trees and the hum of summer insects. She picked a couple of blue violets, was searching with her eyes for others when she heard Brad Faulk's voice.
"Hi, there, Sara. I was afraid you wouldn't come. I'm grateful."
He had stepped from behind a huge boulder. Looking behind the boulder she saw part of his car. She noted, as he walked toward her, the grace in his walk and the confidence that was a part of him.
"I promised to meet you here, Mr. Faulk. So here I am. But I cannot see why you wanted all this secrecy. It's such an isolated spot."
Brad stopped in front of her. His eyes mirrored his admiration. He smiled at the hurt in her voice.
"Look, Sara, where do boys take their sweethearts? To public places? Of course not. They bring them to Petting Place or another isolated spot. I selected Petting Place because I knew there would be no one here in the daytime and because I wanted just you and I to share it a while. Does that answer your question?"
As she was framing her red lips to reply he suddenly pulled her into his arms, his hungry lips seeking her warm ones. She pulled herself loose but not before his hot lips had aroused wild emotions in her. Emotions she didn't know she possessed.
"You shouldn't have done that, Mr. Faulk."
"I know it. I'm sorry. But I couldn't help it. You are so pretty."
She made no reply and he added, "On top of that I love you."
"How can you say that, Mr. Faulk? You hardly know me."
"Can one guide love where he wants it as he can an arrow or a bullet? One cannot. I didn't make myself fall in love with you. You did that yourself by being such a charming and delectable little girl. Now, what are you going to do about it?"
"Do? Why, nothing of course."
"Aren't you going to fall in love with me?"
"I'm certainly not planning on doing so, Mr. Faulk."
"Won't you please call me Brad?"
"All right, Brad. I owe so much to you. If it wasn't for you I'd still be in jail."
"You owe me nothing. All I asked was a chance to talk to you."
"And I gave you the chance. What shall we talk about?"
"About you. How misfortune seems to dog your footsteps. Seriously, Sara bad luck does seem to pursue you. Don't you think you should have a nice, honest, dependable man to tie yourself to so he can guard you against the evil spirits who seem to delight in getting you into trouble?"
"What nice man would you suggest?"
"One who loves you to the point of worship. One who would spend the rest of his life making you happy. One who would consider himself the special pawn of the gods should he win you. One who...."
"My, my, my. Did you use those lines on all your other girls?"
He looked hurt and she smiled contritely. "Forgive me. But you do have such a reputation as a lady killer. And you have had other girls, haven't you?"
"Certainly. Several that I liked real well. But never one who bowled me over as you did."
They sat down on a fiat rock and Brad got out cigarettes. Except for the one time he'd kissed her he'd made no advances. Yet he was afire with desire for her. He looked down at her white slippers, her slim shapely nyloned legs, shifted his weight on the rock. He raised his head and his eyes locked with her amused eyes. He immediately became aware of the provocative way she was regarding him through fluttery eyes. They were seated close to each other and the enjoyably sweetish aroma of her young body thrilled him. The rhythmical rise and fall of her swelling young breasts entranced him. Her hazel eyes fastened on his own gaze. He was sure he had never looked into eyes which fascinated him so much. He shut his eyes for several moments, trying to picture what it would be like to have this delectable young creature in his own bed.
As for Sara, she was fast learning she could not ignore the tingling attraction he had for her. She admired his finely chiseled face. She liked to look into his changing eyes which were warm with feeling one moment, changed to a different expression the next. His boyish grin was sometimes mocking, sometimes challenging. And sometimes it was sweet and tender. She found herself wondering what it would be like to be in his arms again. She would never forget the possessive way his lips had clung to her own. She knew she'd never seen a man as good looking as Brad Faulk. She wondered if she'd have the strength and will power to push him away should he gather her in his arms again.
What was happening to her determination to have nothing to do with him? She told herself she was only doing this to repay him. He had gone to work, found the real thief and saved her from a sure conviction. She owed him not one tryst but several and Sara was a girl who wanted to pay her debts. But she found she was getting too close to the fire. He was fast casting a spell over her. His touch caused little ripples of excitement to sweep over her. Instead of resenting his declaration of love she had asked him how he could love her so quickly.
This thing must stop. She must get hold of herself. She must summon all her unquenchable determination back and put him in his place.
"Brad, I...."
She found herself in his arms again. She went limp as his hot, seeking lips were glued on her own. She closed her eyes and ... despite her resolve to shove him away ... she found herself pressing her lips on his with a fierce intensity of passion. She gloried in the surrender. Her arms went slowly about him. Her lips moved over his lips hungrily, searchingly, as if seeking the right spot for a fusion. Finally ... stifling a little moan in her throat ... she jerked fiercely away from him, knowing another ten seconds in the arms of this man would drive away all thoughts of decency from her. Her cheeks pinked becomingly. They stared silently into each other's eyes.
"Sara, my darling, I love you. You love me, too. I read it in your eyes."
Was it true? She found herself wondering if it was. Certainly no other man or boy had ever aroused her wild emotions as he had. Was this love? She had been kissed by boys in high school but never like Brad had kissed her. Those high school kisses had been kisses and nothing else.
Brad's kiss had driven away her indifference, had crumbled the barrier of her resolve to ignore him. With one kiss he had served notice he wanted her and meant to have her, warned that he would beat down any barrier she put up. How could a kiss stir her that way unless it was love?
He must have read something in her eyes. He pulled her to him again. But this time he kissed her as a husband kisses his wife when she boards a bus or train. A kiss for public consumption. Gently he disengaged himself from her.
"My darling, I do not dare hold you tightly in my arms again lest I lose my resolve to prove to you that I love you. Loving you I shall not listen to the demands of the flesh. I think I better take you back to town."
She permitted him to lead her to his car.
"Brad, how did you find Dinky, the man who framed me for the theft?" she asked when they were in the car.
"Oh, just as I told you. I have connections." He smiled amusedly. "But if he hadn't got drunk and talked to a girl, I couldn't have put the finger on him. He hadn't dared spend any of the money except a few dollars so suspicion had not been pointed his way."
"I wonder how he knew about the envelope in the safe."
"I wondered about that too. He might have heard some of the employes talking about it."
He pulled off the main highway, taking a dirt road that meandered in a roundabout way to town. They encountered little or no traffic. Sara paid no attention at the time. Later she had reason to remember. Brad talked about his insurance business, his golf playing, bowling and this and that. Sara told him the true story concerning Mr. Cullowhey and Brad was indignant.
He guided the car into an alley about a block from her room. Smiling at her he gave her a kiss and told her, "Same place, same time tomorrow. Bye, darling."
Sara walked slowly to her room, not sure whether she was walking on the ground or on the clouds. Reaching her room she flopped down on the bed, lit a cigarette and tried to analyze things. What had caused the change in her? Why had she permitted Brad Faulk to kiss her? Not only permitted it but she had gloried in it. She pictured the many ugly things she'd heard about him. She tried to whip up her anger, tried to kindle anew her determination to give him nothing but frost in the future. But she couldn't. Instead of whipping up her anger she found herself enjoying the memory of the kiss. Why had she agreed to meet him again at such an isolated spot? She found herself hoping he was sincere in his declaration of love for her. Anyway how did she know all those ugly stories were true? She wondered why he had never married.
She left the bed, walked over before the mirror and said to the image in the glass, "Has he never married because ... as he told me ... he's never found the right girl? Was he telling the truth when he said I was the girl he'd been looking for all these years? Am I already in love with him?"
She didn't know the definition for love and she didn't know how to tell whether it was the real thing or not. But she did know his exciting attraction for her was the real thing. An attraction that had already beaten down her determination to have nothing to do with him. She closed her eyes, lived over again those heavenly moments in his arms. She couldn't recall anything in her whole life as pleasurable and enjoyable. Was he a magician that he had cast such a spell over her? She wondered.
Les Holland called, wanted to take her out to dinner and a show afterward. She fell back on the' old, decadent yarn that she'd worked so hard she was too tired. She would be poor company because she was completely fagged out. She didn't even add that she might be interested some other time. She knew she wouldn't be. Why did he have to be in love with her when she wasn't in love with him?
She went to a movie alone.
She was quite busy next morning, had little time to even think about her coming tryst with Brad Faulk. She and Ruby went out to lunch together.
"Sara, have you seen Bradley Faulk lately?" asked Ruby innocently.
Sara gave her a sharp look.
"Why do you ask such a question, Ruby?"
"Oh, nothing in particular. Everybody knows he saved you from a sure prison sentence. I just wondered if you were going to be grateful enough to not cold shoulder him any more."
"As a matter-of-fact I am going to be nicer to him," Sara said lightly. "Certainly I am grateful to him. I owe him a lot and I always pay my debts."
"I've heard several people say it looked funny that he was able to find the real thief when a private detective was unable to find out a thing." Ruby was smiling but the remark exasperated Sara.
"I see nothing funny about it. Brad ... Mr. Faulk has connections who tipped him off to the thief."
"Brad?" Ruby's eyebrows came up) she veiled her eyes as she looked slyly at Sara. "First time I've ever heard you call him by his first name."
"Well? Why shouldn't I call him by his first name?"
Ruby shrugged. "None that I see."
Ruby chatted on, Sara listened in amusement. When lunch was over she had caught up on the store gossip. Ruby even claimed that the assistant manager had a girl clerk pregnant. Sara didn't ask the girl's name. She didn't want to know. She wondered what Ruby told about herself when Ruby was talking to other people.
As the afternoon-ebbed away and time approached for her tryst with Brad she enjoyed the anticipation.
At quitting time she left the store, hailed a taxi and was driven out to Petting Place. She paid the cabbie and dismissed him. She looked about for Brad but there was no sign of him.
After a wait of thirty minutes she had decided he had stood her up. She saw a car racing toward her. It stopped with shrieking brakes. She had recognized Brad's" car. He opened the car door, she got in and he drove the car behind the big boulder. Without a word he pulled her into his arms.
"Sara ... darling ... I'm sorry I was late...." Further words were smothered by two hungry pair of lips fusing together. All resolves thrown aside she kissed him fiercely, passionately. She had a gasping intake of breath as his hand strayed to her bosom. Stealing inside her blouse he fingered the luscious globe of a breast, his thumb toying with the nipple. Sara tensed, seemed to have lost her breath.
The hand slipped to her knee, was slipping up her leg under her dress when he suddenly pushed her away from him.
"No, no, I mustn't. Darling, I want you so badly but we mustn't lose our heads. I'm burning with desire for you. But I love you, Sara. And because I love you I respect you. I only want you after you're all mine." He smiled at her pinking cheeks.
"I was tied up in an insurance deal," he explained. "My assistant manager was off this afternoon and I had to attend to it myself. Believe me I did the fastest work I ever did in my life. My thoughts were on you and not on the job. I don't know how I got it right but I did. Can you forgive me for keeping you waiting?"
"Of course. Business must come before pleasure."
He leaned close and kissed the lobe of her ear. She turned her head. They stared into each other's eyes for long moments. His arm went about her and she went into his embrace willingly. She waited eagerly for his kiss. She tightened her arms, clung to him fiercely. Their lips went together and moved with the warmth of their passion. His roving hand went to her knee. His softly stroking fingers slipped gently and softly upward to reach her thighs. The touch of his fingers sent wildly demanding emotions coursing through her veins like hot flame. She moaned lowly in her throat, strained tightly to him.
He withdrew his hand and pushed her away.
"I mustn't, Sara. I cannot do this to you. Loving you as I do I mustn't treat you like a hussy. My whole being knows I want to satisfy the demands of the flesh. But I've got to prove to you that isn't what I want. Don't tempt me so. Help me to be firm and brave so I won't despoil you."
"I want you too, Brad," she heard herself saying softly. She wondered where the words had come from. "I'm afraid I'm falling in love with you."
"Afraid, darling? Why be afraid?"
"I ... oh, it seems dangerous to be under any man's spell as I am falling under yours. Especially after I...." She bit off further words, looked as if she wished she hadn't uttered them.
"After you fought so hard against me?" he said, chuckling. "Darling, you weren't fighting against me. You were fighting against your own desires."
She wondered if his words were true. "Yes, Sara, that's what you were doing. Just as some one fights against their desire for something they've determined to not have. You were attracted to me just as I was attracted to you. You remembered all those ugly tales about me. You didn't know whether they were true or not but you thought they must be true. Where there's smoke there's fire, you've heard. Anyway you were afraid to take a chance with me less you become another seduction victim." Brad grinned as her cheeks pinked. "Sara, surely you cannot believe I'd do such awful things to innocent girls. Not unless I was guided by the devil himself. Tell me you do not believe those lies."
He sounded so sincere. So eager to be believed. He talked so compellingly that she found words coming from her lips before her mind had formed them. "No, Brad I don't believe them. I used to believe them but not any more."
He pulled her to him and kissed her.
"I'm so glad and grateful to hear you say that, darling. Now ... since you've displayed your faith in me and proved that you trust me, I have a suggestion. I wouldn't have dared make it several minutes back. But now that you've told me you don't believe those lies they tell on me, I do dare. If you agree to it it'll be a test for each of us. I'll welcome it because I want to prove to you it's clean, honest and worshipful love I have for you ... Not lust."
He paused, looked out at the green countryside. He watched some birds scolding each other in a poplar tree. He added more moments to the delay by giving Sara a cigarette. When both were smoking, she could wait no longer.
"Yes? What is the suggestion you have, Brad?"
She knew she had liked him from the first. She was consumed with curiosity to know what his suggestion would be. Marriage? She wondered. Didn't a fellow speedily propose marriage after he declared his love? Certainly he did. Anyway that was the rule. But there were exceptions to all rules. Maybe Brad was the exception.
He gazed earnestly into her hazel eyes.
"Sara, the suggestion I have is this. We'll go to my cottage in the mountains for the weekend." He stopped, looked deeply into her eyes as if trying to read her answer there.
She was surprised and startled. Spend a weekend with him in his isolated mountain cottage? She could hardly believe her ears. She had to admire his boldness.
"Did you say for the weekend? To your cabin in the mountains?" Two inner voices were speaking to her. One voice warned her to say no. The other voice urged her to accept.
"That's right, Sara. It's the big test. No one must know about it except you and I. Naturally you know why." He paused to let the last remark sink in. Sara was silent and he went on, "people would misconstrue things. If they knew you and I had spent the weekend at my mountain cottage they would smile lewdly and speak their ugly thoughts. I cannot let you become the victim of such malicious gossip, for people's minds would be obscene and dirty. The cottage has two bedrooms. The door to one has a lock, a key and a strong bolt on the inside. That shall be your bedroom. Need I say more?"
In spite of her effort to appear nonchalant and calm Sara's cheeks pinked. A weekend with a handsome fellow in a mountain cottage? She wondered what Ruby Sheckard would say if she knew it. No, she didn't wonder. She knew what Ruby would say. The big question was, what was she going to say? Two weeks back she would have refused angrily. She wouldn't have considered it for a single moment. But now? Now she was not only considering it, she was all excited and thrilled about it. What was the matter with her? Was she becoming a little tramp? A promiscuous little tramp masquerading in a garb of decency?
Brad was watching her steadily as if he could see the struggle taking place in her heart.
"Sara, have your bag packed and be ready Friday afternoon. Meet me here at the same time. Use a taxi to come out to Petting Place. I'll expect you so please don't disappoint me. Now, darling I think we better go back to town. If I drink in any more of your heavenly charm I'll be so intoxicated with desire ... come on, let's go."
"But, Brad. I haven't said I'd go with you."
"No, you haven't, Sara. And you haven't said you won't go. Silence means consent in my book. Or do you own a different book?" Smiling at her indecision, he pulled her to him and glued his lips to hers. Pushing her back he said teasingly, "That kiss didn't feel like you were going to let me down. Remember. Friday afternoon, same place, same time. Have your bag packed."
He helped her into the car, started the motor, backed out and headed for town by way of old roads, short cuts and little used routes. All the way back Sara tried to whip her determination to the point where she would tell him she couldn't go with him.
But when he let her out at the same alley, a block from her room, she still hadn't told him. And she didn't. Her determination was strangely weak and missing. She knew she would go. Later when she tried to analyze her reason for taking him up she always got the same answer. She wanted to go.
CHAPTER TEN
"Oh, Brad I don't believe in all my life I've seen such a beautiful place," Sara said breathlessly as she stepped from his car and gazed at the mountains all about her. They were spectacular in their natural beauty. The cottage set on the banks of a tumbling mountain creek. The spot was a cove with towering mountains everywhere. There was no road to the cottage, only a wide trail. A car could get over it in summer but not in winter. "I love it, Brad. Just listen to the music of that creek. Singing the old lullaby it has been singing for a thousand years. And look at those tall, majestic firs and poplars. Isn't that big tree yonder a birch? Of course it is. Oh, I could spend the rest of my life here."
"So could I, with you." Brad smiled at her enthusiasm.
He had picked her up at Petting Place and they had driven the twenty miles at a good pace. He had wanted to reach the cottage before darkness set in. The cottage was of treated logs and had two stone chimneys. When he led her to the front door she saw it was massive and strong. It had flat iron supports bolted across it from top to bottom. She noticed the windows were protected by iron bars which were spaced close together.
"What is this? A jail or a cottage?" she asked, laughing.
"It takes all this to keep prowlers from breaking in. That door is six inches thick with three layers of oak and each layer is fortified with those flat iron supports. Those iron bars protecting the windows are not iron, they are steel. I used to have lots of prowlers. I got tired of it and fortified the windows and doors. Since then I've had no break-ins."
They went inside. Sara exclaimed in delight, "It's simply beautiful."
There was a large living room with a fireplace about six feet wide. There was no ceiling. The room being open to the rafters. At one end was the kitchen and a bedroom with a private bathroom. The other end of the cottage had a bedroom, bathroom and a room that Brad told her was the sewing room.
"You mean that's where you sow your wild oats?" quipped Sara.
"Don't put ideas into my head," he said, laughing.
The cottage was equipped with gas lanterns and lamps. A camp stove in the kitchen burned bottled gas. Water was piped in by gravity from a mountain spring. Sara wondered whether Brad had built the cottage for recreational purposes or a love nest.
She carried her bag into one bedroom, began poking around to see if some careless chick had left some feminine bits of evidence behind. She found nothing. She examined the door. As he'd said it had a strong bolt on the inside. It seemed that the cottage had about everything except occupants. Rugs, chairs, divans, beds, battery radio. There were canned foods galore. Brad had brought more edibles in his car.
It was fast becoming dark. That meant it wouldn't be too long until bedtime. The very thought of it made Sara's cheeks burn.
She changed to sweater and slacks, left the bedroom, went to the kitchen which was at the other end of the cottage. As her form was framed in the open doorway Brad, engaged in opening a tin can of food, turned his eyes on her. He gave a low whistle of admiration.
"Man, oh man, but you're pretty. You're stunning. I...."
Removing his eyes from his can opening chore had been fatal. The edge of the can lid cut a gash in his finger. He gave one look at the oozing blood.
His face turned the color of chalk. He gasped, turned his eyes away.
"Help me, Sara. Hurry, please. I can't stand the sight of blood. Hurry, hurry and help me." He held his bleeding finger behind him. Sara thought he was going to faint.
She ran to him, got a wet rag, grabbed his hand and finally stopped the flow of blood. He stood there trembling, leaning against the sink and looked like a dying man. Sara had never seen any person so acutely affected by the sight of blood. She got the first aid kit, bandaged the finger.
"It's okay now, Brad." She couldn't understand how a big, strong man could be made so weak and sick by the sight of blood. He was still white and jittery.
"I'm sorry, Sara, but I've always been that way about flowing blood. I just can't stand it. I don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't been here."
"I understand, Brad. Every person has some particular fear. It may be a hidden secret fear that never shows but it's there. So don't feel bad about having such a simple fear as being unable to stand the sight of warm blood. Tell me, have you always been that way? Or was there some particular tragedy or accident that made you allergic to flowing blood?"
"I've always had it. Even as a kid I couldn't stand the sight of flowing blood. No, there was never any particular tragedy or accident that I ever knew of. I can't explain it. All I know is I have it."
He lit the gas lamps, lit the camp stove for Sara and she went about the pleasant task of preparing supper. He carried in a cured country ham from the car. Soon the delicious aroma of frying ham was wafted to their nostrils. She made coffee, toast and scrambled eggs. She made canned soup. This with sliced tomatoes and lettuce made an appetizing meal. Brad refused to touch the lettuce. When
Sara told him lettuce was good for him he snorted derisively.
"I knew a man once who wouldn't eat anything but lettuce and milk," he said. "He ended up by being put in the bughouse."
"He shouldn't have eaten lettuce with bugs in it," quipped Sara.
The meal finished, Brad looked at Sara and grinned. "Not only was the meal superb but I especially liked the decoration. I can think of nothing more desirable than having you sit opposite me at meals for the rest of my life."
"Just listen to the man. He has a full stomach now and it's the first meal he ever ate with me. Men are all like that. They fall in love and vow it will be eternal. Five to ten years later they're wondering why the devil sent his sister up to earth for them to marry."
Brad laughed amusedly.
"There are exceptions to all rules. You're the exception. Still there is much truth in what you say. Maybe that's why I've shied away from marriage this long. Sara, you're the first girl I've gone with this long who hasn't asked me how old I am."
"I really don't care," Sara returned. "I think people put too much stress and emphasis on age. I've noticed that the people who are constantly remarking, 'Oh, I'm too old for that sort of thing' are the ones who age the quickest and fastest. Just as persons who in hot weather keep saying to others, 'I'm burning up, it's so hot' are the ones who suffer most from the heat. The power of suggestion. All of us know we can make some particular person sick by constantly telling them how bad they look. Some men are old at forty. Some are young at seventy. All I know about your age is, you're at just the right age to be dangerously attractive to me."
Brad clapped his hands. "Hurrah! You should become a lecturer, Sara. Seriously, you are right about the power of suggestion. We often sell some insurance by the repeated power of suggestion. It works in many other ways. It even worked for me." He stopped to grin at her. "Just remember how often I kept suggesting to you that you shouldn't believe all those bad things about me."
"Let's take a walk out in the darkness," Sara suggested. "It's so quiet and still out there. And it isn't so dark that we can't see."
He led her down the creek where they sat on a flat rock. Lighting up cigarettes they smoked and chatted. The magic of the mountain night fascinated Sara. The soothing music of the flowing creek had a strange soothing effect on nerve tension. She wondered why very nervous people didn't go to a mountain creek and become calm.
Brad pulled her to him and kissed her. He meant it for a quick, brief kiss but the touch of two lips kindled a vibrant fire, made their emotions flare. Her arms went about him. He held her so tightly she could hardly get her breath. Her warm, vibrant lips moved passionately over his lips. She thrust her tongue between his teeth. His hand roved down to her bosom, thence on to her knee. It began to move upward, sending electric tingles of ecstasies coursing through her. She strained fiercely against him. It was he who broke it up. He pushed her from him.
"Remember my promise," he said weakly, striving hard for control of his aroused desires. "When I touch you my good intentions go boom. Don't tempt me so. I'm not made out of stone. After all I'm just a mere weak man."
Needing time to bridle the emotions the embrace had unloosed she slowly went about the business of lighting another cigarette. This done she shook her hair back from her face with a practiced toss of her head. She turned a warm smile on him. "Brad, I've often wondered why you never married. Or perhaps it's too personal a question. If so, forgive me."
"Not at all. I've often wondered about it myself, darling. I've gone with several girls I knew would have made wonderful wives. And I liked them. But, though I thought about marriage with each one, I pushed it aside. I know now it was because I actually didn't love these girls. Another thing, I've been wary and cautious about marrying. I've seen so many thoughtless and hasty marriages land on the rocks. These days they even marry in school. The fashion today is, marry in haste and repeat at leisure. The old adage was, 'marry in haste and repent at leisure.' The custom of going steady has grown steadily the past ten years. The result has been a frightening increase in illegitimate births."
"Yes, that's true. But it's the fault of parents."
"Correct. Parents and teachers have stood aside and watched adolescents set up their own rules of social conduct, have done nothing about it. Can it be that pregnancy for unmarried girls is no longer regarded as a social disgrace or disaster? The biggest increase in illegitimate births is among teen age girls, many of them fifteen and under."
"Brad, you sound like a crusading evangelist."
Brad merely grinned.
Sara stood up. "Come on, Brad. I see a wide pool yonder. Let's walk down to it."
"It ought to be wide enough. I worked hard and spent money in making that pool. It even has a sandy beach. I had to have that sand hauled ten miles. Come on." He took her arm. "Let's go swimming."
"I'm afraid I forgot to bring my swim suit."
"The night's dark and the air is warm. Neither did I bring a suit. We won't need any."
"You mean ... we'll swim in the nude?"
"Sure. Why not? No one can see us. We'll be clothed in a black mantle of darkness."
"But ... but I never did such a thing."
"That's no reason," Brad said as he led her onto the sandy beach. "What if a person should refuse to go to heaven, saying, 'why, I never did such a thing before?' Here we go." He began taking off his clothes. For a long few moments there was a dead silence from Sara. Then he heard the rustle of cloth as Sara began to strip. The warm sand felt good to their bare feet. He speedily divested himself of his clothing. "Are you ready, Sara? I can't see you good. Can only see a white blur."
"For that I'm thankful," she said, laughing merrily. She was glad the darkness hid her blushes. "Lead me in. I'm wearing nothing now but my birthday suit. You know the pool and I don't."
He led her into the water which, despite the fact it was summer, was cool. They cavorted in the water, splashing, laughing and clowning. It was a small pool since there hadn't been space to make a big one. They had to stay close together. Finally they had enough, waded back to shallow water. Brad lifted her in his arms to carry her ashore.
Sara held her breath at the contact of their naked bodies. She knew her cheeks were fiery red in embarrassment. Never before had she been naked and in the arms of a naked man. Even boughs. As if it were making love to the trees, though the kindly darkness put a shroud over their nakedness, he held her closer. In the water it had felt different. They'd held hands, had had bodily contact. But nothing like this. His uncertain walk, his unsteadiness in the darkness made him lurch a little with her weight. This brought her thighs into contact with surging, warm flesh. She let out a little gasp of excitement, uttered a faint "oh" of wonder.
The soft push of her swelling, pointed breasts against him, against his bare skin, had Brad at the point of no return. He had actually planned on not touching her this night. But the naked swim in the pool had not been on his program. But the swim might have been surmounted had he not lifted her naked body in his arms. Here in his arms was the most delectable and delightful creature he'd ever held. He knew his good intentions were gone. He wondered if there was a man anywhere in the world who could have abided by them. He didn't believe there was. He found her soft lips in the darkness. She glued her own receptive, warm mouth against his in a fierce frenzy of passion. She was a little frightened but she knew she loved Brad Faulk, wanted him to possess her. Sara knew all about the physical part of love between men and women. Like most virginous young girls she was curious about it to the point where she wouldn't fight too much against sampling it.
The fire of lustful desire had swept into Brad's loins. He drew her softly, yielding body closer and, as she responded by straining fiercely to him, he knew he was now on a one way track. His bare feet touched clothing on the sand. Letting her down on her feet, he gathered the articles of clothing and made a sort of pallet on the sand. He pushed her gently down onto the clothing. Sara was eagerly pliant and willing. Her heart beat in an excited tempo of love, she held her breath for long moments. His mouth covered her red lips. His lips sought her swelling breasts, ripe and proud in their flaunting roundness. He kissed the nipples. His lips went gently downward to her soft, warm belly, touched and kissed her navel.
Neither uttered a word. Sara doubted whether she could have spoken had she tried. There was no need to fumble with the removal of clothing. She felt his naked flesh and the weight of it against her. She felt her legs being pressed wide apart by gentle but firm hands. She moaned in an ecstasy of anticipated excitement. Her pulse pounded and her body trembled. As he kissed and stroked her body she wondered how anyone could be so happy. He had his lips on her breasts, could feel her heart pounding under her breasts. When his lips reached her thighs and she felt them on her inner thighs she tensed, held her breath. Her body was quivering as if striving to be unleashed in a sharp ecstasy of passion.
She uttered a little cry of what could be described as half fright and half joy. She had a sudden impulse to throw up her knees and put off this brute of a man who was invading her inner secrets. But Brad, as if guessing her intention, uttered a whispered command.
"Darling, don't flinch away from me. Help me.
Her breath came out of her sobbingly, followed by little cries of moaning acceptance in a curiously mingled voice of pain and pleasure. Softly, eagerly she clamored for him to reach the fulfillment. She clung to him, was totally unconscious of the little cries of delight that came in moaning tones from her throat.
His body relaxed, the sexual movements ceased. He kissed her in a gentle tribute of bountiful satisfaction.
A sense of outraged shame and loathful indecency had come to her because of the brutal physical intimacy. But Brad's tenderness, his whispered words of love and his whispered question, "Darling, are you all right?" brought a quick yes from her lips. He stroked her, kissed her and succeeded in soothing her.
"Darling, I failed to keep my word," he said regretfully. "I was carried away by my desire for you. When I held your nude and beautiful body in my arms I was lost. Will you ever forgive me? I love you more than ever. Does that help any?"
"Of course, Brad, my darling," she said softly as they dressed in the inky darkness. "I could have stopped you. I didn't. I didn't want you to stop." She halted her words as she realized what she had just said. "Oh, Brad it was awful of me to say that. Am I just a little tramp who threw herself at you? But it is true. I didn't want you to stop."
They were dressed now. He put his arm about her, led her slowly toward the lighted cottage.
"Sara, it was clean and decent. It was our manifestation of pure and natural love for each other. A love reaching fulfillment. I've loved you for days but I had about given up hopes of ever hearing you say you loved me. Now that you have there's not a happier man in the world. No, of course it wasn't awful of you to say you didn't want me to stop. But...." He stopped, got out cigarettes and each lit one.
"But what, Brad?"
"I was thinking about that lock and bolt on your door," he said, chuckling. "I'm sure now ... after I've had a touch of paradise ... that I'll be unable to remain in my own room unless you do lock and bolt your door."
She leaned snugly against him, lifted up her lips for a kiss. He gave it to her.
"Hasn't it occurred to you, darling, that I might not wish to lock and bolt my door?" she asked teasingly.
They were at the cottage now and the light from the window outlined their dark forms. "Let's sit out here, Brad and enjoy this peaceful, fragrant night. It's so dark, so quiet and so pleasant. So soft and beautiful."
Brad made no reply and she went on, "listen to the soft murmur the wind makes through the tree boughs. As if it were making love to the trees. There ... the moon has slipped from behind the clouds. For a few moments at least. Brad, how did you ever find this lovely spot?"
"I didn't. I got lost one day and stumbled onto it." He put his arm about her, pulled her close, let his nose revel in the fragrance of her hair. "I inquired about it, found the owner and bought it.
The only bad thing about it is, there's no road."
"And no electricity. But darling, you can't have everything."
"I was beginning to believe I couldn't have you." He laughed. "Tell me, Sara. Tell me truthfully. Were you just playing hard to get?"
"No, Brad. I was in dead earnest. I was attracted to you from the first. But I was determined to have nothing to do with you. Honestly ... I don't believe I would have, had you not saved me from a sure prison sentence. I shall always be in your debt for that."
He was silent a few moments.
Eventually she would marry him. She was sure of that. What was his age? She didn't know and she didn't care. All she knew was, he was the lover who had awakened her pure sensual excitement. He had snatched her breath away with his matchless love making. He had touched off hot spasms of passion within her. His hands worked subtle magic on her body. She was in love with this man, hopelessly, desperately. She had found her man.
"What are you thinking about, Brad?"
"I'm thinking about you, darling. Wondering why it took me so long to find the girl whom I really do love. I've never really loved a girl before. But you ... you charming, beautiful creature ... you've tied me hopelessly to you with pink strands of love. And with delectable knots. Knots that I have no desire to ever untie." He cupped her chin up and kissed her. "Even now I'm wanting you again. I'm starving for you." He made a move to pull her into his lap but she laughed merrily, got to her feet.
"Come on. I'll make some coffee. Maybe that will get your mind off the wrong thing."
He let her lead him into the kitchen. As she got the coffee going he dialed the battery radio. A dance band came in clearly. He pulled her to him and they danced. "Brad, you're a wonderful dancer. So graceful and light on your feet."
They had their coffee, smoked a cigarette. The watch on Brads wrist said it was nearly ten. Sara caught him looking at the time and her cheeks pinked. He grinned amusedly.
"What's your bedtime, Sara?"
"Oh, no certain time. Sometimes early, sometimes late. It all depends. You know how it is. Sometimes a person gets sleepy early and sometimes one never get sleepy."
He grinned and said slyly, "I doubt it I get sleepy tonight."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was nearly twelve. Sara, was in her bedroom. She undressed swiftly and donned her nightdress. She was aquiver with excited thoughts of love. It had taken all her will power and determination to break loose from Brad's embrace on the divan, push his hand from under her dress and get to her feet.
"No, Brad, it's time for bed," she had said softly. "It's nearly midnight. Haven't you heard that if you go to the wine barrel too often, the wine loses its sweetness, its flavor and you lose your desire for it?"
Brad had laughed and retorted, "but I've only been to the barrel once, darling. I'm dying of thirst again."
She turned back the bed covers, glanced at the door. The bolt was not in place. The key was in the lock but it hadn't been turned. When Brad had kissed her at her door he had whispered, "Darling, I'll wait. If I find your door locked I'll go back to my own lonely, unhappy bed and suffer in silence. But if I find the door unlocked, I'll enter into paradise."
Sara wondered if she had become a woman now. When a girl loses her virginity is she not a woman? What was the difference in a girl and a woman anyway? She shut her eyes for a-few moments, permitting a little contented smile to bloom on her lips. A kind of Mona Lisa smile that only she could have explained. She wondered what Brad was doing and what he was thinking. Would she bolt and lock her door? At the very thought of barring her wonderful lover from her room, she shuddered. She didn't have to answer the question. She knew she was going to-leave it open.
She stood there quietly smoking a cigarette. She knew Brad wouldn't come to her door until the light was out. She slipped off her flimsy night garb, stood in front of the mirror. She studied her nude young body from ever angle.
She wondered whether she should pretend to be asleep when Brad came in or await him with receptive arms.
What did a new bride do on her nuptial night?
"Are you in bed, darling?" Brad inquired from outside the door.
"Yes, Brad."
He tried the door knob, found it unlocked. He came inside and shut the door quietly behind him. She knew he was in his bare feet. His footsteps could not be heard as he stepped slowly toward the bed. The pale moonlight was shimmering through the windows. It was enough to show him which side of the bed Sara was on. He dropped to one knee, lifted up her head, kissed her gently and softly. Without uttering a word he slipped off his pajamas and got into bed beside her.
Sara held her breath when his thighs touched her thighs. He pulled her to him, his arms went about her. Her eager, receptive lips came up to meet his hungry lips. At first his lips were very gentle as if he were kissing something very fragile. She liked his man smell and the way it mingled with his after shave lotion. His hand strayed to her breasts. He seemed to notice for the first time that she was covered.
"Get this thing off," he said, pulling at her night garb.
"But ... but I always wear it."
"Not tonight, darling, hurry."
She slipped out of bed and took it off. She could feel her cheeks burning. Could this be Sara Hibbons stripping naked to get into bed with a naked man? She wondered what had come over her. She got back into bed and went eagerly into his arms.
His demanding lips found her warm lips. She ran her tongue between his teeth. A joyous refrain beat a happy tempo in her veins. It was a long kiss and she was out of breath when it came to an end. She knew what was on his mind. The anticipation of what was coming made her heart pound faster. There was only one thing on his mind. Something that neither would talk about.
"Sara, you beautiful creature," he whispered with a low huskiness that told her more than a thousand words.
He kissed her again and again. His head put a fierce weight behind the kisses. This time "he put his own tongue between her teeth. Her tongue sought his tongue. Both were filled with hot fires of desire. This kiss lasted longer than the other. When she finally removed her tongue from his mouth she was at the stage where she wanted more than kissing, stroking and petting.
And she knew Brad wanted more.
A third kiss and his hand found the luscious globe of her breast and stroked it tenderly. She was glad there was no frilly cloth between the breast and his hand. She was glad he could feel her, pet her, stroke her and love her as a girl should be loved. She could feel the hot blood rushing through her veins. She felt wild emotional desires taking possession of her. She ached for him to take her, to possess her completely.
He cupped both breasts with his hands, held them. He squeezed gently and the nipples grew firm. He kept kissing her, stroking her, kissing her breasts. Kept it up until she was so excited she was in a frenzy of need for him. She felt his hand on her knee. As it slipped upward very gently to her thigh her breathing grew faster. She knew she wouldn't have him stop for anything in the world.
Gasping in delight she strained her body to him. She went instinctively into the motions of love as if it were an old thing to her. She held him tightly, moaning lowly, loving him, wanting him. She was in the throes of a new passion that surmounted anything so far.
As his stroking fingers intensified her desire she writhed under his touch. She whimpered in joy. She had become a creature of passion and fire. She was a woman who wanted her man.
He touched her all over with his hands. His soft stroking hands moved to her face, lips, breasts and all over her soft body. She was ready for him, she needed him. She wanted him as she had never wanted anything before.
This time she didn't flinch. The pleasure and ecstasy flooded through her like flood water rushing through a widening hole in a dam. He held her to him tightly. She dug her fingernails into his back. His weight was crushing her breasts. Nothing had ever been like this before. She was in such a frenzy of fast-spending passion she felt as if she wanted to cease everything-even her breathing so that she could keep up this delectable love-making forever.
Words were useless and quite out of place. She snuggled into his arms and they went into a contented and peaceful sleep.
It-was far into the morning when she awakened. She could see that Brad was still asleep.
Outside she could hear the calls of birds in the trees. The steady, rhythmical flow of the creek, so soothing in its old, old song, seemed to be singing a lullaby of love. Beams of bright sunshine came through the windows. She looked at her watch, saw it was nearly eleven. She looked at Brad's calm, peaceful and serene face. She studied the nose which looked predatory with its hawk-like hook. He was no outdoor man she knew. But he didn't have the inside office paleness she had observed in so many indoor workers. The face wasn't sun tanned and it wasn't weather-beaten. But it had a healthy pallor and the skin was unblemished and smooth. His touseled hair wasn't worn in a crew cut. It was wavy and of such a dark brown hue it looked black. As she admired the curly waves she wondered why he didn't go in for the prevailing crew cut style. She was glad he didn't.
His eyes opened and they stared at each other.
He stretched languidly, yawned lazily, pulled her face down and kissed her. "What time is it, darling?"
"Eleven, Brad. Are you hungry?"
"Only for you, darling."
His answer was to press her lips down against his and open his mouth for her warm darting tongue. He drew his head back, looked at her. His eyes caressed her with tender, loving looks. Even under his gaze she began to grow hot and passionate in a desire for him. She wondered why he didn't hurry up. She was aching for him.
Brad began the love play she liked so much. He gently bit the lobes of her ears. He kissed her lips, her neck, went on down to her breasts. She wanted him so badly she wanted to shriek. He kissed her breasts, gently squeezed the nipples between his lips. Yet he seemed to be in no particular hurry. Sara's wildly craving emotions were at a boiling point. He was teasing her. How long could she stand it?
He kept kissing, stroking and touching her body. He kept exciting her until she thought she would go crazy with desire. A gasping little moan of delight came from deep in her throat. There was no pain this time, it was pure, passionate pleasure, exciting and heavenly. So wonderfully good, it pervaded every part of her mind and body. She was soaring in a blue sky in a bark of bliss filled with supreme ecstasy.
They lay limply exhausted in a contentment that passed any peace and contentment she had ever known.
They remained motionless for some little time. Finally Brad raised his head, gazed into her hazel eyes, smiled and said, "I love you, Sara."
"I love you too, Brad."
"I love you but I'm hungry."
"So that's why you wanted to get up. Just like a man. Well sir, what would you like for dinner?"
"Coffee, bacon, eggs, toast and fried spuds. I like potatoes sliced thick, rolled in meal and fried. I can eat a peck that way."
"Okay. But if you want me to turn into your cook turn your head. I'm naked."
"I won't. I want to see you get out of bed naked and dress."
"Brad Faulk, you're lecherous, vulgar and naughty. I won't get up until you turn your head."
He threw back the sheet, rolled her out of bed onto the floor. Giggling, laughing, striving to keep her back to him, she grabbed her robe. She put it on, tightened the belt. "Well, Mr. Smarty, you didn't see too much."
"Come here, come here."
She went to him and he kissed her greedily. "Plenty of coffee, double the bacon and eggs and enough fried spuds for seconds and thirds. I'm so hungry I could eat a corn cob wrapped with barb wire."
Sara laughed merrily.
"Oh sir, I didn't know you were starving. Try to hold the spark of life while I rush to the kitchen and prepare life saving food."
"Okay, but hurry. I'm growing weaker by the minute."
She went into the kitchen.
Brad hunted a cigarette, lit it. He doubled up his pillow, propped his head up, smoked contentedly. He was a little troubled: He was growing too fond of Sara. He felt as if he never wanted to lose her. He wondered if he would tire of her as quickly as he had the others. His was. the thrill of the hunter. The excitement of the chase almost equalled the capture, the first fulfillment of a volcanic desire. But Sara was different. The fulfillment was not yet reached. His passion for her was still insatiable. She had been more responsive each time. He wondered if he would be tempted to marry her. At the thought he shook his head and grinned. No, he wasn't the marrying type. He liked to seduce them where he found them and leave them where he seduced them.
Finally when the fragrant and delicious aroma of coffee hit his nose he got lazily out of bed and put on his pants. He stuffed his shirt in the pants, put on his shoes. He gazed at his reflection in the mirror a few moments wondering if he should shave before breakfast or after. He'd never found a girl yet who didn't like a man better when he was smoothly shaven.
He decided to shave before breakfast. Or was it dinner? He poured water from the pitcher into a bowl, got out his shaving utensils and shaved.
"Come and get it, Hungry Man," called Sara.
He went to the kitchen to satisfy a different hunger.
After the meal they smoked, made small talk until the heaviness of their food was somewhat dissipated. Sara suggested they take a hike.
"Fine," Brad agreed. "I was hoping you'd say that."
Sara went to the car to get her camera but couldn't find it. She asked Brad if he'd seen it. He helped her look for it but they didn't find it. He had previously hidden it where it couldn't be found. Pictures were taboo with him. They could be used for evidence.
The afternoon went by so fast neither realized it was gone. The sun was dipping below the mountain peaks when they returned to the cottage tired and again hungry.
Sara cooked a beef stew with onions, potatoes and green peppers in it. This with coffee, toast and a couple of hot pies ... the ice cream he'd brought had melted ... left them wanting nothing but a soft seat and rest. The hike had been a long one and as the muscles of neither were used to it they were paying for it.
But their love making that night was as fierce and as full of pure sensual ecstasy as ever. Brad was the perfect lover, Sara decided. Otherwise how would he know just how to play hot emotional chords on her body with his warmly pulsating fingers, arouse her to a pitch of frenzied desire that left her aching for appeasement? They had a second embrace just after midnight. It seemed to Sara that each one was more wonderful, more joyful and more fulfilling than the preceding one. After they'd reached the climax together in mutual raptures of blissful delight, they relaxed. They joined the peace of the night, lay entwined in a contented posture of comfort and contentment. Brad tried to relieve her of his weight but she held to him tightly. They fell asleep that way.
They rose early next morning, had coffee, bacon and eggs. They had packed the night before. As they drove away Sara looked back at the happiest spot of her whole life. Brad saw her gazing back wistfully and grinned.
"Don't look so wistful, darling," he said. "We'll be back again."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ruby Sheckard looked curiously at Sara who, instead of answering Ruby's idle question, had apparently not heard it.
They were in Gerald's Grill for lunch. The place was crowded as usual.
She caught Ruby's curious eyes on her. Ruby was puzzled at the radiant transformation in Sara. Her eyes were starry and her smile was straight from heaven. It made Ruby wonder. The two were seated in a small booth enjoying their lunch.
Sara poked absently at her mashed potatoes. She was now remembering some little things. Brad had driven her in a roundabout way to a vacant field two or three blocks from her room, had let her out there, but not until he had made another date for the next week-end at the same place. Pulsating with hot love for him she had agreed eagerly. He had kissed her, warned her it must be their last kiss until the following week-end.
"Look, darling," he had told her softly. "We must keep this a sacred secret between ourselves. I'm not willing to let the public share the happy knowledge that you belong to me. I want only you and I know we belong to each other. I want your promise that you'll tell no one, not even your closest friend. Will you promise?"
Of course she had promised.
He'd told her he would be so busy the next few days going after several new accounts he wouldn't even be free evenings. He'd asked her not to call him, not to come to his office. He warned her not to be offended should he pass her without any sign of recognition. Sara had wondered about it but she had agreed. If it pleased Brad, it pleased her.
Nothing else mattered. He was the most wonderful man she'd ever met.
"Sara? What's the matter with you? I've asked you something three times and you acted like you had your ears plugged up. What are you daydreaming about, anyway?" Ruby's voice was a bit exasperated.
"What? Oh, I'm sorry, Ruby. My mind was on something else."
"Yeah? On whom? That good looking Lester Holland?"
"He is good looking, isn't he?" Sara was very much relieved to know that Ruby had no suspicion of what had happened. She was satisfied to let her think she'd had Les on her mind. "Les is a wonderful fellow."
Ruby puckered up her red lips thoughtfully. She didn't quite understand Sara. If she was daydreaming about Lester Holland what had happened to change her? Ruby and Sara had hit it off well together. Ruby had lined up a date for her new friend but Sara had declined. Now she had just as good as admitted she was dreaming about Lester Holland.
"Sara, has that handsome Brad Faulk been after you any more?"
Sara choked on her milk, spilled some on the table. She coughed and Ruby misinterpreted the pink in her cheeks. She thought the strangling on milk had caused it. Sara quickly recovered her poise, managed to look quite indignant.
"You can bet he hasn't and he better not annoy me again."
"I can't understand you, Sara. I got it pretty straight from the old grapevine that Brad Faulk was responsible for running down the real thief and saving you from a prison sentence. Now, dearie, if I was in jail and a good looking guy like him was to come along and save me from prison ... I certainly wouldn't be ignoring him as if he had small-pox."
"How do you know he was responsible for pinning the robbery on the man named Dinky?" Sara asked, putting all the surprise in her voice she could. "Where in the world did you hear such a thing?"
Ruby shrugged eloquently, puckered up her lips. It was a mannerism she frequently used. "Oh, I heard it somewhere. Don't tell me it isn't true."
"The police caught Dinky. He confessed to them and they released me."
Ruby shrugged, dismissed the subject. She had never believed that Sara had been guilty. She had stuck to Sara and now Sara was grateful. She was wondering about Ruby's frequent use of Les Holland's name in her talk. Did Ruby like Les? Sara was beginning to believe she did. Why shouldn't she? Les was good looking and he was young. He was partner in his father's garage and would be a good catch for any girl. As for Ruby, she figured Sara was finally opening her eyes about Les.
They finished their lunch and walked back toward the store. Ruby was still chattering away but Sara wasn't listening. She was too wrapped up in her roseate thoughts of Brad. She did catch enough of Ruby's chatter to learn that Ruby had been out with a new fellow and was nuts about him.
They reached the store and Ruby went straight to her work. Charlie Guthrie called Sara into his private office, did quite a bit of dictating. This and the transcriptions kept her busy all afternoon.
At the end of her work day she walked up the street to board a bus at a new point. Her real reason in walking to the new point was a hope of seeing her lover. But she didn't. She wondered if Les Holland would call her. Les was still trying to fight his way through her indifference. She got no call from him. Being tired she stayed in her room, read a book and went to bed early.
By Wednesday she was aching for a sight of Brad. Saturday seemed so far away. Why was Brad keeping out of sight? How could a man who loved a girl madly keep away from her all week? Anyway he'd told her he loved her that way. She recalled the difference in their ages. It told her Brad was an expert in love while she was a mere amateur. Brad was her first love while she was not his first. It hurt her to know he'd, had other girls. But of one thing she was confident. She was sure Brad would marry her; whereas he hadn't been interested in marrying one of the others.
There were times when Sara hardly realized she was working in the Guthrie store. She did much of her work mechanically. Did it while she was engaged in daydreaming about her lover. But she did it smoothly and efficiently. Charlie Guthrie was now using her exclusively to take his dictation. She rarely made a mistake, was fast and smooth. Guthrie rarely talked about any subject except business.
Sara and Madge Adamson went to lunch together on Thursday. Madge told her she had all the mannerisms of a girl in love. But Madge jumped to the same conclusion that Ruby had reached. Madge thought the object of Sara's affection was Les Holland. Sara didn't correct her since it pleased her to have Madge on the wrong track.
Friday was a difficult day for Sara. It was the day before Saturday and that heavenly tryst with Brad. Sara wondered if the others noticed how eagerly she was bubbling with anticipation. It had rained Thursday night and the day was cooler. The day seemed a long one. She lunched alone as she didn't want to be asked what she was going to do for the week-end. All that afternoon Sara felt like a little girl waiting for Christmas morning to come. Looking back she knew she had been strongly attracted to Brad from the first. Now she was madly in love with him. So much so that she'd given herself to him. Because he was the man she loved. Never for a single moment did she entertain the idea he wouldn't marry her.
She stayed in town for her evening meal, went to a movie afterward. A taxi took her to her room and she did her packing before going to bed. She hoped she would dream about Brad but she didn't. A person can direct thoughts but never can one direct a dream.
It seemed that Saturday morning would never come to an end. Sara wondered if Brad was as excitedly eager as she was. When noon came she wondered about lunch. Should she have it alone or wait until she could share it with Brad? She ate a spare lunch.
Promptly at the given time Sara left the taxi at the old abandoned rock quarry and walked to the nearby Petting Place.
It was a beautiful, isolated spot. High up overhead she saw a buzzard floating along on air currents. Two jays were fussing in a nearby tree. The sky was blue except for a few fleecy clouds here and there. It was a perfect day for love, Sara decided. She walked out behind the huge boulder to await Brad. If he failed to show up she just knew she'd die.
In about five minutes she saw his car speeding her way. As it got closer Brad waved to her. Her heart gave a leap, her blood quickened its pace through her veins. She could feel her cheeks burning.
Brad parked the car out of sight, got out and took Sara in his arms.
"My darling, I've been dying from hunger for you all week. I got to the point several times to where I thought I couldn't stand it. I saw you on the street and it was all I could do to run over and gather you in my arms." He kissed her crushingly and Sara's kiss was sweetly receptive. Finally she pushed him away to get her breath. Brad chuckled. "This will do for a starter."
He put her bag in the car, they got in and headed for the cottage.
She snuggled against him, her head against his shoulder. Her whole being was singing a song of love. Brad's very touch was enough to make her quiver with excitement. Had he been forced to stay in town by business ... she shuddered at the very thought of it. She wondered how she could have stood it. She dismissed such a frightful thought. He was her whole life now. Nothing else mattered to her. She just couldn't imagine life as being worth living without him. Yet she had lived years without him. That was what love did to a girl, she decided.
"I hope you kept our sacred secret," Brad said, smiling at her.
"Oh yes, I did. It's such a precious secret I had no trouble keeping it."
"Light me a cigarette, please."
She lit one, put it in his mouth. The car was well away from town now. Brad glanced at the dipping sun. "We'll make it long before sunset. I warn you I'm going to be plenty hungry. I was so busy trying to catch up that I didn't have my lunch."
"You poor darling. I'll fix you a fine supper, Brad. But why did you punish me so? I mean making me go all week without seeing you?"
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," he quoted. "I was suffering too. And remember. Too many trips to the wine barrel...."
Sara clapped her hand over his mouth. "Yes, and if you stay away from the wine barrel too long it may spring a leak."
Brad laughed. "To tell you the truth it was all I could do to stay away from you. It took all my will power and all the will power of my ancestors to do so. But now it's paying off. Just see how eager we are for each other. During the days I was so busy the time passed rapidly. But nights were a different proposition."
Sara wondered if he meant more to her than she did to him. Probably it was true but it was only natural that way, she decided. Because she'd never been in love before while Brad had had other affairs. She dismissed the subject from her mind. All that mattered now was, they were together. She was seated beside her lover speeding to his isolated cottage for a wonderful and glorious weekend. Why should she worry? Hadn't he told her she was the only girl he'd ever actually loved? Of course he had. And eventually she would marry him.
As the car sped along Sara looked into the dark brown eyes of her lover. So dark she wondered if they were brown or black. She wondered how they could change to so many different expressions, hues and warmth. She had decided they were the kind of eyes a woman should have. Such eyes would give any pretty girl a more charming weapon against males. She leaned closer, ran her finger softly over his cheeks which were free of any blemishes. She could hardly feel the new beard beginning to grow. Brad kept his face smoothly shaven. At the same time he wore the wispy mustache which added to his attractiveness.
Brad gave her a quick, smiling glance in which she read tenderness, softness and love. He tightened his free arm about her.
"Darling, even the mere touch of your finger is like a breath of air blowing on me through the open door of paradise."
"Brad, you sound like a poet."
"Or like a lover?"
She laughed happily, planted her soft lips against his cheek. She put the sharp, wet, warm end of her tongue in the shell of his ear, wriggled it there deliciously.
"Sara, how am I going to make it to the cottage if you tantalize and tease me that way?" Brad asked, grinning in pleasure. "I'm fighting a temptation now to pull off the road and park. I want you so badly my heart is beating like a shoemaker's hammer."
"I'd love it, darling. But let's keep going. We have plenty of time."
She fell asleep against Brad's shoulder, slept until the unusual jolting of the car awakened her.
The car was going slowly up the fair weather trail towards the cottage. "We're about there, darling," Brad said softly, watching her eyes flutter open. "A few more twists, turns and curves and you'll see our happy haven again."
"What an appropriate name. Happy Haven. I love it."
"Any place would be a happy haven with you, my sweet. I've been looking forward to this all week long. As I was dictating a letter to my secretary yesterday I began daydreaming about you. I sat there so long that she became alarmed and asked me what was wrong."
"It must have been telepathy. I was thinking about you, too."
Brad parked the car near the cottage. They carried in the foodstuff he'd brought. Sara changed to slacks and sweater, went about cooking up a supper for a hungry man. She gave Brad a pan of spuds to peel. They talked gaily and, when the meal was ready, ate like famished persons.
It was a midsummer, warm night with a moon.
"Did you bring your bathing suit, Sara?" He grinned at the way her cheeks pinked.
"No, I forgot it. Did you?"
"Forgot it. Come on, let's hit that cool pool. It's dark and the moon isn't out right now. Too many clouds. No one will see us."
He got a couple of blankets. They went to the pool and stripped in the darkness. Brad spread out the blankets on the sand.
It was delightful to lie on one's back and float in the clear, cool water. To gaze up at the bright stars studding the sky. Great trees stood there casting black curtains over them. The sand was still warm to their feet. The water kissed her bare flesh refreshingly. She had yielded herself to its soft caress. As it enveloped her knees, thighs, hips and the smooth firmness of her breasts and throat, she'd tingled. Such glorious night coolness. Water touched her eyes and caressed her lips. She could make out one. big, lazy fleecy cloud up there in the distance. It seemed to be telling her she shouldn't be in swimming naked.
The pool was too small to do any real swimming in. She and Brad cavorted gleefully, ducking under the water, keeping closely together. Finally when they'd had enough he led her to shallow water, picked her up and bore her to the waiting blankets.
Tingles of sheer sensuous happiness coursed through her entire body from her toes to the crown of her head. There was a magic about Brad's neck and bare chest that made her want to touch them, caress and kiss them. He was her whole world. He was all any woman could want and he was all hers. She was positively sure of that.
He pulled her warm receptive lips to his own hungry ones. Even before their lips met the touch of his soft fingers on parts of her body was more to her than the fiercest passion of any other man. His whispered words of love seemed to pour over her like warm wine. From his mouth flowed honeyed words, proving that she'd won him. There followed passionate kisses to prove he was her slave. His actions were those of a lover who lived and breathed only for her. She was his body and soul. She longed to mold her body, mind and soul, all her future to his desires.
She moaned low in her throat. She held her breath as his hot lips moved down to her nipples.
He was so strong, so handsome and so compellingly the master of all he surveyed. His caressing fingers seemed to bring her flesh alive with feeling when he touched it. He gently kissed her breasts, first one and then the other. One of her hands stroked his head, the other pressed her nails hard against his back. He had her on fire with sensuous desire. When his lips reached her warm stomach her body tensed with new thrilling sensations. Her arms went about him. She strained her pulsating body against him hungrily. His head came back to her breasts. He took the nipples between his lips with a stroking intensity that sent little quivers of delight over her.
In their first intimacy she had stiffened, tensed against the terrible physical intimacy, resenting the lustful haste of his possession. But the sharp ecstasy of her own passion had driven away all her barriers and she had melted completely into his embrace.
She held her breath, clung to him in a fierce and frenzied surrender that left no doubt of what she was offering. He was stroking her breasts. His hand slid down to the silky slope of her loins. Uttering little moans of pleasure deep in her throat she yielded to him, softly and lovingly. She grasped and clung to him with a wild force as if she feared to lose the sweet fulfillment to come. Digging her fingers in his moving back she lent herself to him eagerly, softly. Her breath quickened and delicious shuddering convulsions of ecstasy swept over her. Little animal cries of passion came from her.
Oh, how lovely, how wonderful. A final trembling, convulsive quiver and twitching of her loins, the consummation was upon her. The quick of her inner body was touched. It uncovered the innermost intimacies of her soft, warm body. There came a spasmodic contraction of her inner muscles, bringing to her the acme of passionate delight. They reached the climax at nearly the same moment. Her body clinging to his with a fierceness that threatened to mold them together. Her loins were pressed to his loins as if she feared to lose anything which so perfectly appeased all her passionate desires. She loved it so much. She still held him tightly, her lips meeting his in an aftermath of sweetness that showed how completely she had surrendered.
"My darling, my wonderful little Sara," he whispered in her ear. "I can't help but wonder if you want me as much as I want you."
"Yes, Brad. Yes, my darling I was wanting you so badly I could hardly wait until Saturday. I don't know how I'll ever be able to...."
His lips closed off further words.
Finally when he could get her to release her tight hold of him, he removed his weight from her and they lay snugly together. They were away from the world, important only to each other, supremely happy and contented. The warm summer air was pleasant to their nude bodies and Sara was sure she was the happiest girl in the whole world. She lay her head restfully on his broad chest. Lulled by the magic of the night and the loving warmth of his body she fell asleep. It was late when she awakened. They dressed and walked to the cottage.
Inside, Brad put his lips softly to her ear and asked, "Are you going to bolt your door tonight?"
"Why not try it and find out," she whispered teasingly.
"I shall," he promised.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Life to Sara now was so heavenly that she sometimes wondered if it wasn't all a dream from some magical fairyland. Brad was her handsome prince and she was his fairy princess. Her whole being sang out in joyous exuberance. Love is that way. It transforms one into a radiant and blissfully happy human who exudes happiness at every turn. She and Brad had several more trysts. It seemed to the sensuously happy Sara that each was in a higher heaven than the preceding one. Yet they appeared to be strangers in the periods between their trysts. Brad wanted it that way and Sara was so completely under his spell she didn't object. She wouldn't have even dreamed about doing anything contrary to his will.
Les Holland kept asking her for dates but she'd refused. She knew she'd be a sorry companion with her every thought on Brad. She became so proficient in her work she was able to carry it on and daydream about Brad at the same time. And yet, so secretly were their trysts held, not a single person at Guthrie's guessed the truth.
But even a clear, blue sky can go just so long without being invaded by black clouds.
There came the first sickening doubt. The first hint of suspicion that her roseate sky might not be as clear as she thought it was.
It was another Saturday and she had been tingling and hot with blissful anticipation of another tryst with her lover.
She packed her bag. She dressed herself in a man baiting frock of luxurious nylon and rayon matte jersey which draped her bosom in wondrous folds of a junior size. Her hair was piled atop her head in sprinkling curls and held tightly by a gold band. Being quite sure that she would appear quite bewitching in Brad's eyes, she taxied out to Petting Place. She left the taxi at the old quarry, dis missed the cabbie and waited joyously for her lover.
She waited, waited and waited ... in vain. Brad did not show up.
Beating back her tears with a supreme effort of will she finally decided he wasn't coming. She wondered what had happened to him. What had stopped him at the last moment? She just knew something had happened. Otherwise he would have met her. It had to be something that came up at the very last moment. For had it happened sooner he would have gotten word to her. She was absolutely sure of this.
She caught a ride back to town with a farmer.
Monday morning she got a special delivery note. It had no name signed to it, it had no return address. It read, "Was suddenly called out of town. Had no time to contact you. I'm so sorry. Same time, same place, next Saturday." That was all. It was a typewritten note.
The sun immediately began to shine again for her. Gone were the black and forbidding skies. The golden rays of a joyous sun again bathed her with heavenly delight. She wondered how she had ever permitted the slightest little doubt of Brad's faithlessness to intrude in her mind. She folded the note and tucked it away. But not before Ruby had seen.
"For heaven's sake, Sara. What was in that note to make you smile so saintly? Has a rich uncle died and left you a million dollars?"
Sara laughed gaily. "Oh, no. I wouldn't swap it for a million dollars."
"Wouldn't swap what?"
Sara laughed, made no reply.
Again she found the hours going by so slowly she didn't believe she could stand it. During a lunch hour she saw Brad across the street. Her heart gave such a leap she put her hand to her throat less it leap out her mouth. She-longed to rush across the street and throw her arms about him. She wanted him to enfold her in his arms, kiss her madly and whisper little soft words of love in her ears. She wanted Brad so badly her veins semed to be scalding with her intense desire. Knowing she had more hours to wait, she sighed dismally, went on her way.
Saturday finally did come. Sara wore the same man baiting frock and the same hairdo. She had spent many minutes preparing herself for her man. She yearned to see his eyes light up with adoring admiration when he caught sight of her. She was sure no eager bride had ever been as hot with desire for her man.
Again she taxied out to Petting Place.
She dismissed the taxi at the old quarry, carried her bag behind the big boulder to await Brad.
When she caught sight of his car she thought her heart would burst with happiness. When he parked his car and got out she ran into his arms with a smile of happiness.
He kissed her but it seemed to Sara there wasn't as much fire and hungry fierceness in his lips. He was as gentle and loving as ever, held her with one arm as they drove towards the cottage. He hadn't mentioned the note. He told her how pressing business had become and how it was demanding much of his time out of town. What did mere words matter anyway? She had her man again and she knew he loved her.
At the cottage Sara suggested they cook their supper over a campfire at the pool. Brad grinned and said okay.
It proved to be a good idea. Sara cooked meat and made coffee. She scrambled eggs in a long handled skillet, broiled bacon on the end of a sharpened stick. It was a lot of fun and used up a good deal of time. When their fresh-air-whetted appetites were appeased they sat and smoked. Darkness caught them and Sara wondered if he would again suggest a nude swim in the pool. She hoped he would.
But a sudden shower sent them scampering back to the cottage.
They turned on the battery radio. Brad pulled her into his lap. She hid her pinking cheeks against his shoulder. It was eleven when she suggested she was sleepy and asked Brad if he was sleepy. This time he replied with stroking hands.
As his tender, sensitive fingers played a rhapsody of love on her body, she held her breath. His other softly probing hand slipped inside her waist band. She tensed and strained against him. Her lips pressed against his mouth and she moaned lowly in her throat. Holding her breath she wondered if he could feel the rapid beat of her heart.
"Go, get in bed," Brad whispered, releasing her. "I'll follow you."
A few minutes later he was in bed beside her. He was naked. He touched her pajamas, said softly, "get this thing off. It's in the way."
She got up and removed it, being thankful the kindly darkness made a black curtain for her.
He reached for her and she went to him willingly. His hot, questing lips found her receptive mouth. Her moist tongue darted between his teeth. Just when she was sure she couldn't get her breath again he released it, his lips going down to her nipples. His face was against her warm belly. She quivered, gave an inaudible little gasping moan of joy. Her body strained against him. She tightened her arms about him, pressing to his smooth, naked body responsively. Her entire being was aflame with eagerness and desire. She uttered little cries of delight. She felt herself wafted into pink and rapturous skies of joy. Her veins flowed with scalding blood as she felt her culmination at hand.
They slept until noon next day, exhausted from their love making which had not been appeased until dawn.
After enjoying the dinner she prepared Brad told her he must return to town that afternoon. Some business matters had to be looked after, he explained. He agreed to meet her again the following Saturday at Petting Place.
Sara wondered why they couldn't meet a time or two through the week but she said nothing. After all it was his choice. If he wanted to see her badly enough he would do so. Maybe he was right. Perhaps it was best that they didn't see each other through the week. But doubts were beginning to assail her.
He let her out of his car a couple of blocks-from her room, promised to be at Petting Place to pick her up on Saturday afternoon.
Monday was another rainy day and Sara ducked into a little alley eating place and ate her lunch alone. As she leisurely ate her meal she fell to wondering why she and Brad could not lunch together. She had asked him. He'd replied that it was impossible. Being too much in love with him to question it she had said nothing.
Now, as she ate alone, she was a little exasperated at him. He loved her and he would marry her. She was sure of that. Then why did he meet her secretly? Why did he forbid her to tell anyone? Why did he make her promise she would not contact him in any way? She didn't know but she did know she loved him and loved to obey him.
The time between then and another happy Saturday passed so slowly that she was tempted several times to take sleeping pills so the long hours would not drag by so slowly.
She worked hard through the long days, she went to bed early each night. Each night she hoped she could dream about her lover. When Friday finally arrived she was aquiver with an eager anticipation. She hadn't caught a glimpse of Brad all week. But in just a few hours she'd be in heaven again. She would be in the arms of her man.
She was promptly on time Saturday afternoon at Petting Place.
She waited and waited at the old quarry. When minutes passed and Brad didn't come she refused to believe he wasn't coming. She waited a half hour, she waited a full hour. Only then was she persuaded that her lover wasn't coming. Even then she kept telling herself he had a good and true reason for not showing up.
She walked a couple of miles to the highway, caught a ride to town.
She cried herself to sleep that night. She knew she was the unhappiest girl in the world. Just as a few days back she had been the happiest girl. But her heart told her she would receive another special delivery note on Monday. And the note would dispel all her doubts. Brad would tell her how sorry he was and why it had been impossible for him to meet her.
But no note came for her on Monday.
When lunch time arrived she stayed in the office and gave way to bitter tears. She had no idea why Brad was doing this to her. There was a hard battle all through the afternoon between her craving for Brad and her prideful determination. Her whole soul craved for her to call Brad, no matter if he had ordered her not to do so. Her determination begged her to not do it. Her determination won out. She hid her wounded and aching heart under a brave smile. She fiercely fought back the tears, went straight home after work hours. Flinging herself on her bed she let the dammed up tears flow unrestrained. She muffled her heartbroken sobs in the deep folds of her pillow.
She stayed up late that night, leaving her door ajar, hoping, hoping, hoping to hear the telephone ring downstairs. It did ring several times but it wasn't ringing for her. She cried herself to sleep, slept fitfully and was wide awake by four. She was unable to go to sleep again, being tortured by a cruel imagination which pictured Brad in another's arms. For the remainder of the night she had only the company of an aching and shattered heart.
All through Tuesday Sara fought back the tears. She forced a mechanical smile to her lips which were dying for Brad's kisses.
Several times she caught Ruby's questioning eyes on her. She knew that Ruby knew something was wrong. Ruby had asked her several times what was wrong. Sara had told her nothing at all. Since one cannot see a broken heart Ruby could only conjecture. A broken heart can be hidden under a multitude of symptoms. No medicine will cure an aching heart.
However as she cried herself to sleep that night Sara knew the cure for her shattered heart was a simple one. All she needed was a call from Brad. But the call didn't come.
She tried desperately to turn her thoughts to something else besides his kisses, his embraces and his softly murmured words of love. She could not recall one time when he had mentioned the word marriage. Neither had she mentioned it. She had simply assumed that he would marry her. She began to wonder if the ugly stories about him had a foundation of fact. It had never occurred to her to not give herself to him. Her love for him had been so overwhelming, so deep running she'd wanted him to possess her.
By the time Thursday arrived she was so desperate, so afire with hunger for Brad that she typed a note to him.
She didn't put her name to the note. She simply told him she would be at Petting Place on Saturday afternoon at the usual time. She sent him the note by special delivery. With its dispatch her spirits were uplifted and the ache in her heart was much less cruel. Brad would know the note was from her. She was sure he would be at Petting Place. A certain measure of light-heartedness came to her. Not only was she able to smile again but she hummed catchy songs to herself. Brad would not only meet her but he would explain why he had been forced to disappoint her. She was sure of it.
She felt so different, so uplifted that she went to a show with Ruby on Thursday night.
The picture they saw was a love story. It depicted the misery and heartaches of a girl who had given herself to her lover and later found herself pregnant. Seeing another girl about to take her place she planned suicide. However she was saved from the fatal act by her lover who found out the truth and married her. Sara kept mopping tears from her eyes as she watched the drama unfold. She pictured herself as the girl and Brad as the man.
All through Friday she did her work mechanically. Gone was the sickening pain in her heart. The sun was shining again just for her. She would see her lover again and everything would be all right. Brad would explain to her why he had treated her so badly. She would be in his arms again. It meant another week-end in paradise.
Saturday morning she was tempted to buy a stunning new outfit for her tryst. She fought down the temptation. But she spent double time in making herself lovely for her lover. As the time for her tryst edged closer and closer, her excitement mounted. On the way to Petting Place in a taxi she wondered if the cabbie could hear the faster beat of her heart. She felt so radiantly happy she tipped him generously.
How pretty the countryside was. The birds in the trees seemed to be singing love songs to her. Even the wild flowers seemed to her to be more beautiful than ever. As if they wanted to serenade her new found joy with majestic beauty. She walked behind the big boulder with her bag, set it down and smiled back at the blooming flowers. Brad would soon be there.
When fifteen minutes passed without any sign of Brad she had her first doubts. But she was still sure he would come. Thirty minutes went by and she dried the tears from her eyes. An accusing inner voice pointed out that Brad had not said he would come. Fifteen minutes more and she gave it up. She sat down and cried miserably until she could cry no more. She lifted up her chin determinedly, picked up her bag and started her walk toward town.
She'd walked a little over two miles when a friendly truck driver picked her up. He let her out in town and she used a taxi to get to her room.
If there was any company more miserable and cruel than a broken heart she didn't know what it could be. She used sleeping tablets Saturday night. She knew that without them she would not sleep. She spent the most tortuous Sunday she'd ever experienced. She again used sleeping tablets that night to find sleep.
She spent Monday fighting back the tears and battling impulses to pick up the phone and call Brad. All that stopped her was her monumental pride and her ironclad determination. She could hardly believe it was true. She had been so sure that Brad loved her. No man could put on the act that he had and not mean it. She just knew it hadn't been an act. The only sleep she got that week was through the use of sleeping tablets. She went to sleep crying and she started crying again when she woke up.
Several times she actually reached for the phone to call Brad. Each time something stopped her. It wasn't because he'd ordered her to not call him. It was something much stronger. It was her determination. She was determined to die before begging him to see her.
The painful, pleasureless and heartbroken days went by slowly. She was now sure that Brad was avoiding her. She knew that in two weeks time she couldn't help seeing him on the streets. She didn't catch a glimpse of him and she knew it was because he didn't want her to see him.
As the dull and unhappy days passed, the sharp edge of her nagging pain began to dull a little. But only a little. Her love for Brad had not been an emotion that changed with the suns. She still loved him as much as ever. In fact she loved him more than ever. But whereas she had felt that she couldn't live without him she now felt that she could. She had heard girls say that when you got rebuffed by one man the thing to do was get another man as fast as you could. But Sara wasn't interested in any other man. She could have called Les and married him within an hour. But how could she marry one man and be in love with another?
Time marched on and Sara's determination to not beg Brad to see her grew stronger and stronger.
As the summer ebbed and fall was just around the corner there came the morning when Sara awakened sick at her stomach.
She thought little about it, but when it happened for three straight mornings she began to suspect she was pregnant. Instead of this thought making her fearful and panicky it actually made her happier. If she was pregnant Brad would be sure to marry her. She kept telling herself this until she could wait no longer to be sure about it.
She got off from work next afternoon, went to see a doctor. She had to wait her turn. But when her turn arrived she didn't have to wait long for the doctor's decision. She was pregnant. She took the news with a smile.
"Does your husband know?" asked the doctor, returning the smile. "Oh no. Not yet."
She had given her name as Sara Hibbons. She had come to this doctor because she was sure he didn't know her.
"Well, I'm sure it will make him a very happy man."
"If it doesn't," Sara returned gaily. "If it doesn't it will make me the most unhappy woman in the world."
When she left she slipped the dime store ring off her finger. It had served its purpose.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sara's heart gave an excited leap as she watched Brad park his car behind the big boulder at the old quarry. Now everything would be all right. She had called him on the phone. She had told him grimly that unless he met her at the usual spot she would walk into his office and accuse him before all of his staff. Brad had quickly agreed to meet her.
As he left his car she stepped from behind a tree. They looked at each other a few moments.
"Hi, Sara," he said, smiling. "You sounded so upset on the phone. Is something wrong?" He walked over to her, pulled her to him and kissed her. "Darling, what's wrong?"
The kiss, even though it was lukewarm, set her afire with excited tingles. Her lips clung hungrily to his. Her arms went about him and clung tightly. He kissed her again, this time with more fire. Sara shut her eyes, moving her warm lips passionately against his.
"Brad, I'm pregnant," she said when they broke up the embrace.
A shadow passed over his face. She thought she detected a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. But it passed swiftly. He smiled as if the news had greatly pleased him, took her in his arms again and kissed her gently.
"Darling, are you sure? Did you go to a doctor?"
"Certainly. That's why I'm so sure."
He led her over to a flat topped rock and they sat down. Brad got out cigarettes, gave her one and they lit up. He smoked thoughtfully for a few moments.
"Brad, why have you been avoiding me?"
"Avoiding you?" He put a look of surprise on his face. "Where'd you get such an idea? I've been terribly busy. I've been out of town a lot. Look, did anyone hear you call me?" He tempered the question with a smile.
A sudden hot flame of anger swept over Sara. He was more concerned with keeping their affair secret than he was with her pregnancy. She didn't believe his excuses. Now that he knew she was pregnant he hadn't even mentioned marriage. She didn't believe he intended to mention it. Despite his effort to hide it she knew her news had annoyed him. Was she to become just another innocent girl he had successfully seduced? Was she merely the last one on his list? It certainly looked that way. She wanted to claw him, slap him and tell him how contemptible he was. But she controlled her urge with a big effort.
"Brad, do you still love me?"
"Of course I do, Sara. What a silly question."
"But you have no intention of marrying me? That's true, isn't it?"
He shot her a quick look, flipped his cigarette away. He tried to pull her into his arms. But this time she pushed his arms away.
"Answer me, Brad. I want the truth. If you really loved me you'd want to marry me. But you have no intention of doing so. Do you?"
He heaved a dismal sigh, smiled a mirthless smile. "Darling, I...."
"Quit acting, Brad. Quit squirming. Tell me the cold truth. Like you have other girls. You have, haven't you? I just happen to be the last girl on your list. Isn't that it? Of course it is. You've had your way with me. You've made a sexual toy of my body and now you're ready to cast me aside for a new toy. That's why you've been avoiding me. You want a new sexual toy. You were lying when you said you loved me. All you had for me was lust. But I'm pregnant, Brad. What are you going to do about it? Nothing?"
"Sara, I'll see you through."
"You mean? Brad, surely you cannot mean abortion?"
"Of course not. I hate the word. I mean I'll take care of you until you have your baby. It can't be long now, can it?"
She shot him a look of surprise. Could he be that ignorant about pregnancy? Maybe he just hadn't counted the time. She decided she wouldn't set him straight. His ignorance might come in handy for her.
"See me through? How?"
"That's better, darling." He took her hand and patted it. He gave her one of his charming smiles. "I'll take care of you. I'll pay all your hospital bills and your doctor's fees. I'll pay everything. On top of that I'll make a good cash settlement. That's what I meant."
She stared at him silently. She was unable to keep her anger down. He would pay her off. Just like a common whore. He'd let her have his baby but wouldn't offer the baby a name. Brad's smile froze as he saw the angry scorn in her eyes. He reached for her but she angrily shoved his hands aside.
"So that's it," she said angrily. "You've had your fun with me and you're ready to pay me off now. You offer me money but you don't offer me marriage. You don't care whether our baby has a name or not. I'm beginning to see a lot of things. Things I didn't see before because I was so madly in love with you. I wondered how you were able to pin that robbery on the man called Dinky when the police were unable to do a thing. But I know now. Mr. Nichols told me that Dinky had been bailed out and had skipped. The one who bailed him out was you. I'm as sure of it as I am of my own name. You paid Dinky to frame me into jail so you could play the big hero and save me from a sure conviction. Your reason? You had to do something big like that to get past my barrier. Barriers I'd set up because I believed the ugly things I'd heard about you. I was right. But I forgot them when you saved me from jail because I was so grateful to you. It didn't take me long to fall in love with you. I had always liked and admired you, despite the bad and ugly stories they told about you.
"You dirty, contemptible schemer! You used a low down, filthy trick to make me yield to you. Then you seduced me. Now you're tired of me and offer me your dirty money. Just as you have other poor innocent girls you have seduced. But this time, Brad Faulk, you're not going to get away with it. Maybe the other girls were pushovers and were afraid of you. But I'm not. I'm going to make you...."
"Sara, Sara, please. You're just upset. Of course, I still love you. I'm just not the marrying type. I'm not paying you off. I want to take care of you and I shall. Come now, darling. Don't fly into a blind rage and say things you do not mean. Please let me...."
"Who's your new virgin?" she asked bitterly, her eyes flashing with anger. "Have you taken her to your cottage yet? Or have you reached that stage with her? Have you told her about me? You bet you haven't. But I'll bet you've warned her she mustn't call you, seek you out or even give a sign that she knows you when you pass her on the street. Who is she, Brad?"
"Now, darling, you know I haven't...."
"Shut up. Quit lying. Oh, dear God, why couldn't I see what you really are? Utterly heartless, with the mind of the devil and so handsome that girls fall for your seduction traps. You quickly of a girl and must have a fresh virgin. Some have babies and some don't, I suppose. I'm going to have mine and nothing can stop me. And I'm going to make you acknowledge publicly that it's your baby. I don't know how but I will."
He shook his head sadly, looked at her regretfully. He marked time by lighting another cigarette. Sara opened her bag, put her hand inside. Brad leaped forward quickly, halted when she took out a small handkerchief to dab at her tear stricken eyes.
"Sara, please calm yourself. Everything will be all right. I have a thousand dollars cash here for you. In addition to that I'll pay all your expenses. All you have to do is let me know what your bills come to." He took an envelope from his coat pocket, held it out to her. "Here, my darling. A thousand dollars, Take it."
She took it and flung it in his face.
"You can't buy me off like a common slut. Keep your filthy, dirty money. I'll have our baby and I'll make you acknowledge it to the whole town."
"Yes? And what if you can't?" He asked it scornfully, a mocking little smile on his lips.
"Oh? So you think I cannot do it?"
"How will you do it, Sara? We've never been seen together. Except the few times you rebuffed me and refused to have anything to do with me. Whom would you have for a witness? Some of the persons who heard you say you'd never have anything to do with me? No person has seen us together. I've taken care of that. I haven't told a single soul that I've dated you. Neither have you. Don't try it, darling. It will only bring you new grief and unhappiness. You don't have a leg to stand on. No lawyer will even take your case. No lawyer will even consider it. He'd be licked before he got started. My lawyers would not only make a fool of you but they would defame you, pin the ugly tag of blackmailer on you and blacken your character to where people would scorn you. Don't forget the ugly story from Cincinnati that preceded you here. It would be used heavily. Don't let your blind, foolish anger make you do such a hopeless thing. Please listen to me, Sara. I don't want to hurt you any more."
She stared at him with anguished and bitter eyes. Eyes that were filled with contempt. He picked up the envelope containing the money, tossed it at her feet.
"Don't try it, darling. Use this money. You'll need it. But use it wisely. Don't use it to try such an utterly impossible thing as making me acknowledge your baby. That's silly. You cannot do it."
"Can't I? I'll do it, Brad Faulk. If I should fail in that I'll do something else."
"What, Sara?" he asked as she paused.
"I'll kill our baby and send its poor, little bloody body, its dead little body, to you. That's what I'll do." She almost screamed the words at him. She saw him recoil in horror.
"You're crazy. You're mad with rage and bitterness. You couldn't do a thing like that. You don't mean it. You're just threatening it to make me marry you. Tell me you didn't mean it, Sara. Tell me."
"I do mean it. Every word of it. I know how you cannot stand the sight of fresh blood. Well, you shall see the bright red blood of our baby when I kill it and send it to you. I hope the sight stops your heart. You human devil. You don't have a soul. There's a demon from hell living in you where your soul should be. But you seduced the wrong girl this time. I'm going to make you pay, pay and pay. You shall pay for all the girls you've wronged and seduced. Don't think I'm just talking. I'm not. You just wait and see. Now get out of my sight. I loathe the sight of you."
Brad looked at her silently a few long moments. He studied her face, trying to find some hidden clue in her face or eyes telling him she was bluffing. He failed to find one. There was a steely determination shining in her eyes that left him uneasy. Her jaws were set determinedly. He shrugged in resignation, sighed heavily, turned away.
She watched him walk to his car, climb behind the wheel. She turned her head as he drove away. When he was out of sight she flung herself down on the grass and wept with anguished sobs. Her mind told her he was a lecherous, girl-ravishing seducer. Her heart told her she still loved him.
When she'd finished her cry and calmed down some she sat and smoked. She wondered what had made her scream out that she would kill her baby and send its bloody little body to Brad. She certainly hadn't meant it. But Brad had believed she was in dead earnest. As she started her walk toward town she wondered if there could be some way she could use it. She had picked up the money. There was no sense in letting it lie there for some one else to find.
After she reached the highway she caught a ride back to town.
She cried herself to sleep that night. Her heart was shattered but it didn't lessen her determination to make good her vow to Brad. She didn't have the slightest idea in the world how she could force him to acknowledge her baby to the world. But she was more determined than ever to make him do so.
For the next few days Sara lived in a shell of bitterness and cruel heartaches. But on her face she wore a public mask of geniality and light-heartedness. On her lips a mirthless smile. But behind the smile and under the mask were barrels and barrels of tears waiting to be shed. There were times when she felt so bad she longed to scream in agony. A few times when she was tempted to kill herself. There were other times when she was so bitter against Brad she wanted to kill him. Only her iron determination to make him pay, pay and pay kept her from resigning her job and leaving for a new town.
She plunged into her work, coming in early and staying late. She spent her leisure time in trying to figure out a way she could make Brad acknowledge her coming baby to the public.
Maybe she was fooling the public but she didn't fool Ruby Sheckard.
"Have you and Lester Holland had a falling out?" asked Ruby as they were lunching together in Gerald's Grill.
"Of course not. What makes you think that?" Sara asked with surprise in her voice.
Ruby smiled gently at her and replied, "Dearie, it's written on your face. You wear a smile, a kind of glassy smile that dolls have. Your eyes look at people but they don't see them. They have no warmth or sparkle like they used to have. You look as if you'd lost the most precious thing in your life. But I don't mean to be nosey. It's none of my business."
"Maybe I'm just working too hard," Sara said with an effort at gaiety.
"Maybe your hands are but your mind's working on something else," Ruby said positively. "Sometimes I say something to you and your mind is a thousand miles away. In outer space for all I know."
"Ruby, you've been seeing too many movies or TV plays. I'm all right."
"Well, keep it to yourself if you like. But remember, little old Ruby's got a mighty nice shoulder to cry on whenever you please."
Nursing an aching heart that knows no cure was a painful, agonizing job and Sara again had recourse to sleeping tablets. She saw Brad once that week. He was some distance away but even then her heart gave such a leap and pounded with excitement it made her tremble all over. She hurried to a ladies rest room to let her tears flow. After that time she tried to keep off the main streets as much as possible. She knew if she was going to have any luck at all in getting Brad off her mind she must not see him.
Ruby tried several times to persuade Sara to double date with her but Sara wasn't interested; even though Ruby the last time described Sara's willing date as a good looking guy with a wallet full of money and a freight car full of admiration for Sara.
Next day Sara got a phone call.
It was Les Holland's mother. "Sara, tomorrow is Lester's birthday and I'm baking him a big birthday cake. Nothing in the world would please him as much as your coming to dinner as a surprise guest. I'll come after you and take you back to your work. Please, Sara."
Sara liked Mrs. Holland. She tried to think of a sound excuse to beg off but she couldn't.
"All right, Mrs. Holland," she finally agreed. "I'll come if you will be sure to get me back by one." She knew one hour at the Holland dinner table wouldn't give Les any time to be alone with her.
"Very well, Sara. I promise to get you back in time."
Next day at noon Mrs. Holland picked Sara up, drove her to the Holland home at the city limits. Dinner was awaiting on the table. Lester's father was on hand but Les wasn't. The garage was next to the house. Mrs. Holland, busying herself with the rest of the dinner, asked Sara to go into the garage and call Les to dinner.
Sara left the house and went into the garage.
She didn't see Less but she saw a pair of men's legs on the concrete floor. The rest of his body was under a car. Another mechanic had his head and shoulders buried under the hood.
"Hey, ain't you got that pan off yet, Pete?" the one under the hood asked.
"Gimme time, will you? It ain't zippered on."
"Well, step on it. It's eating time and I want my beans."
A few moments of silence ensued. Sara heard the fellow under the car say, "Hey, this stuff looks like blood. But I reckon it's just dirty oil."
"Aw, hell, you been looking at too many of them television murder tales. How do you think blood would get in a engine?"
"Dunno. Thought maybe it backfired after giving birth to a bicycle."
Both mechanics laughed.
Les came out of the office and saw Sara. Surprised, he stared at her. Sara told him dinner was ready. He hurried to her and they went into the house. She asked Les what was wrong with the car the two mechanics were working on.
"A valve busted, fell down in the cylinder and ruined the whole engine."
"Oh?" Sara looked blankly at him. "I didn't know anything could get in a car cylinder."
"Well, they can," Less said, laughing. "I've seen a lot of things in 'em that had no business being there. You'd be surprised."
Les asked to drive her back to work. Sara didn't have the heart to refuse him. She was relieved when he let her out in front of the store. She was afraid he would pop the question again.
All that afternoon she kept thinking about what the mechanics had said. That and Les Holland's explanation of what had happened to the car. This stuff looks like blood, one had said. The phrase kept ringing through her head. How would blood get in a car engine? The other mechanic had asked that question. Les had told her he'd seen a lot of things in car cylinders that didn't belong there.
She was still thinking about it when she fell asleep that night. It was the first thing that popped into her head when she awakened.
This stuff looks like blood. This stuff looks like blood. She kept repeating the phrase to herself all day. She wondered why she couldn't get it off her mind. She finally decided that her subconscious self or whatever it is that gives people hunches, was refusing to let her ignore it. She went to see a movie that evening. It was a murder mystery. She ' hoped to see something that would help her. But she didn't. She lay awake in bed for a full hour striving to think of something but failed.
All that week she wrestled with the thing. It wouldn't leave her. But try as she might she could think of no way she could use it. She had a hunch it was what she needed. She was determined to think up some way to utilize it. She gave her full attention to her work, hoping to get Brad off her mind. But she couldn't do it. She would sit in her room and go over things he had said. She tried to recall every mannerism, every habit. She wanted to probe deeply and find his weak point. When she did, that's where she would attack.
Some people claim that when you try hard to think of something you cannot do it. Others say when you try hard you'll think of it. Sara didn't know which claim was right. She refused to give up on the thing that was continually buzzing in her head. And all of a sudden the germ of a bizarre idea settled on her.
At first she refused to consider it; she felt it was so weird and unusual it wouldn't do. But why wouldn't it do? She knew that none of the common tactics would do. If she carried out her determination to make Brad acknowledge her baby publicly she would certainly have to use something extremely unusual. So she not only considered the idea but began to build it up.
It became a game with her.
She'd sit in her room and work on it. But it seemed that every scheme had too many weaknesses. She tried to scheme up a workable idea that would be perfectly sound. She couldn't do it. No matter what scheme she used there would be some element of chance in it.
And finally she had it. She went over it a dozen times, smoothing out the weak spots, changing this and changing that. Adding to this and subtracting from that. Until she believed she had it worked out to where she couldn't make it any better.
The success of the idea would depend on Les Holland.
She had no fear about Les. Not only did he worship her, he was her abject slave as well. He had never refused to do anything she asked of him. Time after time he had told her he would do anything in the world for her. No, she need not worry about Les balking. Of course he would be filled with curiosity. He would probably ask her why she wanted it done. She wouldn't tell him why. She wouldn't have to. If she told him beforehand to not ask any questions he would obey. She was sure of that. He belonged to her, heart, body and soul. Slavery was all over in this country. Or was it? Not if the history writers considered Les. Since the success of her startling scheme depended on Les she was confident it would work.
And so, being absolutely sure of Les, she pulled the throttle full steam ahead. She went about preparing for her climax.
Brad Faulk lived in a couple of rooms in the Hunter House on Cane street. He'd told her he lived it better than a hotel because it was quiet, dignified and tasteful and luxuriously furnished. He kept his car in one of the garages there. Sara canvassed the houses on Cane street. She was lucky enough to find a vacant front room diagonally across the street from the Hunter House. She rented the room, which was an upstairs room, and moved in.
Since she had no intention of missing the startling climax herself she shopped about, bought a used man's suit that fitted her fairly good. She also bought shirt, hat and shoes. In her room she tried on the man's outfit several times, hiding her hair under the hat. She bought a pair of black glasses. Studying herself in the mirror as she wore the disguise she was sure nobody would recognize her. Not with the excitement that would be taking place.
The excitement she was going to supply.
She sat before her window several mornings-and watched Brad come out of the Hunter House. She watched him get his car from the garage and drive off. It was just like clockwork with him. This pleased her greatly. The success of her plan would depend on good timing.
Next day she nearly gave Les heart failure. She called him, asked him if he would like to take her out to dinner.
"Why ... uh ... what did you say, Sara?" he gulped into the phone.
"I said would you like to take me out to dinner?" She was laughing aside at his astonishment.
"You bet. What time?"
"Twelve sharp."
Les picked her up on the corner near her room, drove to a parking lot downtown and parked. She guided him to a quiet little restaurant on Hannoy street, knowing there was a private dining room upstairs. Taking her hint, he got the dining room.
She waited until their dinners were delivered, began working on him deftly. She gained his promise that he would ask no questions, opened up with both barrels.
Les stared at her incredulously. As she unfolded the plan and the part he was to play in it he looked so ludicrously bewildered that she burst out in a merry peal of laughter.
"Oh, Les, you look so funny. As if I had suddenly turned into a witch and was flying about the room on a broom. Don't look so utterly astonished. I didn't ask you to catch a cow by her tail and throw her over a six story building. I didn't ask you to swallow a baseball bat and make it turn into a hot dog when it hit your stomach.
All I asked of you is the easy little trick I just named. Easy for you because you're such a fine mechanic and because Mr. Faulk is sure to call you when his car won't start. He always does, doesn't he?"
"Yes," admitted Les. "But ... but I never heard of such a thing. Why...."
She reached over and stopped further words with the palm of her hand. "Now, now, no questions. Remember?"
Les shook his head dumbly. He kept studying her keenly to see if she was joking. But her hazel eyes looked earnestly into his dark eyes and the enchantment of her eyes had him saying, "okay, okay" before he knew what he was going to say.
"That's fine, Les. Just fine and dandy. I knew you would do it for me."
"When do you want me to ... to do it, Sara?" he asked weakly. So weakly that she had to smile. His voice sounded as if he had asked her when she wanted him to start swimming the Atlantic on a fence rail.
"Let's see now, Les." She puckered up her red lips thoughtfully, let her eyes rove about the big room. "This is Friday. Let's make it Tuesday morning. That will give you four days to go to the woods with your gun."
Les buttered a hot roll as if in a trance. He stuffed half of it in his mouth, chewed it thoughtfully. When he'd swallowed his big bite he asked, "Have you thought about the time it takes to do a job like that? I don't see how it'll be possible for a mechanic to do it with Mr. Faulk looking on. A job like that has to be towed to the garage where we have the proper equipment to do it with."
Sara smiled patiently.
"Les, you're an expert mechanic and you say it can't be done. What if Columbus had said that? What if the Wright Brothers had said that? It can be done and it must be done. Since you're the mechanic put the old thinking cap on and come up with the right answer. All you have to do is figure out how to get that car engine opened up quickly ... while Mr. Faulk stands there."
Les sipped his coffee thoughtfully.
"What time does Mr. Faulk put his car in that garage at night?" he asked.
"I thought you might ask me that question. So I kept tab on him. It's sure to be in the garage not later than twelve. Probably earlier. That is if past performances mean anything. Why do you ask? This time you have me puzzled."
Les grinned, got out cigarettes, gave Sara one. They lit up.
"If it's to be done the way you want it done the work on the engine must be done beforehand." . "What do you mean?" asked Sara curiously.
"Here's how. I'll be waiting on Monday night with all the necessary tools when Mr. Faulk puts his car in the garage. Thank goodness that garage is tightly built. The light I must use won't be seen from the outside. I'll work quietly and as fast as I can. I won't put the engine parts back together tightly. Only enough to keep him from lifting up the hood and catching on that it's been tampered with."
"Is there any danger of that?"
"No," Les said positively, grinning amusedly. "Mr. Faulk doesn't know an engine valve from a trombone valve. I'll leave as many bolts out as I can. I'll put no nuts back on at all. When he calls for help I'll be standing beside the phone. I'll race out here and take a quick look. I'll tell him I'll find the trouble in a minute or two ... to wait. It will be a cinch to lift up the unfastened head and do the rest."
She smiled at his disdainful grimace.
"The first thing you are to do, Les is to find the note under the hood. Or whatever you call it.
Tell him it's addressed to him and give it to him. But the time he reads it you are to hold up a piece of the bloody mess and...."
"How do you know it'll be bloody?"
"Because," she said, smiling wisely, "you're going to have a bottle of fresh chicken blood to pour on it while he's reading the note."
Les stared at her in mingled wonder and admiration.
"Where will I get the chicken blood?"
Sara laughed merrily, shook her head vexedly as if she were a school teacher admonishing a child.
"Well, you won't get it from an ostrich. Les, I'm surprised. All you have to do is kill two or three chickens and use the blood."
"I'd get Mom to do it for me. Only thing is she'd die of curiosity to know what in the world I wanted chicken blood for. I reckon I'll have to do it myself."
"There will be other eyes there to see the bloody mess besides Mr. Faulk's."
"Will there? Whose?"
"Oh, the sheriff, police chief and some more." Sara didn't tell him she expected to be there herself. "One or two newspaper folks. I'm going to have them there. Unless I miss my guess there'll be quite a little crowd collected for the fun."
Les shrugged, looked as if he was consumed with curiosity. But he had promised to ask no questions.
"Sara, of course you know I wouldn't think of doing this for anyone else in the world except you."
"Yes, I know that, Les."
She wondered if he had any idea as to why she wanted to do it. But how could he guess it? How could he know about her and Brad? She was about four months gone but she didn't show it since she wore tight things to hide it. She knew Les was keenly curious about it all. But she knew he wouldn't question her. He'd given his promise and he had never broken a promise with her. Yet she knew he must be wondering why she'd picked out Brad Faulk for her stunt. As far as he knew she'd never been out with Faulk, wasn't even a friend of Brad's.
Sara glanced at her watch.
"I must get back to work, Les. Suppose we meet again tomorrow at lunch time? To talk it over and make sure you understand everything. Okay?"
"You bet. What time?"
"Twelve o'clock, same place."
"It's a date. I'll pick you up."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Les picked her up at noon next day and they went to the private dining room on Hannoy street. They chatted idly until they had their lunches before them. Les told her he had bought three big chickens.
"Good. What about the other?"
"I'll have it. A friend of mine is going to get me one today."
They went over the whole thing from start to finish. Les then told her he understood everything about it except why she was doing it.
"You'll quickly find out once the fun starts," Sara said, laughing.
Sara had one little fear. She feared Brad might smell a rat when Les was able to open up the car engine so quickly. She voiced her fear to Les.
"He won't," Les said positively. "He doesn't know enough about a car to cacth on. He's one of the dumbest men about the mechanical working of a car I ever saw. I can't understand-it either since he's so sharp and shrewd about other things."
Sara knew something else he was dumb about ... pregnancy. Even though his chief diversion was in causing it. Had he been up on pregnancy she knew she couldn't get away with her scheme. She had wondered and wondered about his ignorance on the subject. She couldn't understand how any man as smart as Brad could be so ignorant about pregnancy. However in putting her thoughts back over the years she'd recalled several other men who'd been ignorant on the subject. Only then had she been able to swallow Brad's lack of knowledge.
"Les, I think all of us are smart about some things and dumb about other things. Take me for example. This is the atomic age. But I don't even understand how a telephone works. Or radio and TV. Both are as big mysteries to me as the Einstein Theory."
Les chuckled and agreed.
"Radios are pretty simple, Sara once you understand them. So are car engines. What gets me is how anyone can learn to play a piano, pipe organ or make out an income tax report. I tell you that's the truth. I'd rather pole vault across the Grand Canyon than to make out my income tax."
Sara laughed, looked at her watch.
"It's time to go, Les. Are you quite sure you understand everything thoroughly? I won't ask if I can depend on you, for I know I can. I know of no other man in the world I'd rather depend on than you. But we must use perfect timing and the right speed if we are to carry it off. If there is anything ... no matter how trifling ... you don't understand about it, tell me what it is right now."
"I don't know of a single thing, Sara. You've drilled it into me until I can't miss. I understand everything. I'll be right there with my tools to start my work Monday night. The very minute that he leaves his car in the garage. I'll be at the phone Tuesday morning awaiting his call. What about the note?"
"I'll have it for you Monday."
"Where did you say for me to put it?"
"Have it in your pocket. When you get the top of the motor off dab a little grease or oil on the note to make it look authentic. Pick it up, look at it in surprise, tell Mr. Faulk that it's addressed to him. You might remark that it's the first time you ever found a note in a motor. Give him the note."
Les nodded, told her he'd do it.
"Pick me up again at noon Monday, Les. We'll go over the whole thing one more time. Just in case."
"Okay, Sara."
She was so excited on Sunday that she walked to the East End park to get her mind on something else. Late in the afternoon she went back to her room and tried on her male attire several times to see how she filled it out. She decided she filled it out okay in some places but in other places she didn't.
She was so tensely excited that night she thought she would never go to sleep. But she finally made it.
At lunch next day she and Les went over every detail carefully. She gave him the sealed envelope containing the note. It was addressed to Mr. Brad Faulk in her own handwriting.
That night she went to a late movie, wishing to kill as much time as possible. When it was over she went to her room, cut the light off and sat by the open window to watch Brad's garage. When he finally drove up and put his car in the garage it lacked two minutes of twelve. She watched him go into the Hunter House.
About thirty minutes later she saw the shadowy form of Les opening the garage door.' He was carrying a large canvas bag which she knew contained tools. He went inside and shut the door. She couldn't see a single flicker of light.
Satisfied that everything was going along like peaches and cream, she wound her alarm clock, set the alarm for seven. This would be much earlier' than the time Brad would come out to get his car. She meant to utilize the extra time to get into her male attire, also to calm herself for the coming excitement.
Her clock aroused her at sveen.
She got up promptly, went to the bathroom. Back in her room she donned the clothing, studied her form in the mirror. It looked okay. She sat in a chair before the window to watch the curtain go up on the drama she had dreamed up and planned so carefully. Would it work? She could see no reason why it wouldn't. For her life she couldn't see a single thing she had overlooked. Les had everything ready. She was sure of that. He would take his cue promptly.
She looked at the list of names she'd written down. When Les arrived at the garage in response to Brad's call she'd rush downstairs to the phone and make the calls. Of course it all depended on Brad calling Les. She had been uneasy about that part. But Les was sure of it. He'd told her Faulk had never failed to call him.
She knew that Brad left for his office between eight and nine.
When eight o'clock arrived she was tight with tense excitement. As the minutes passed her excitement mounted. She used all her will power to calm herself. She had a job to do and she was going to do it.
Fifteen after eight.
The ticking clock reached thirty minutes after eight. She began to fear he wasn't coming out. She had a sickening feeling. Maybe something had happened to tip him off. What could it have been?
At twenty minutes till nine she saw him come out of the Hunter House and walk toward the garage. She watched him swing the door open and go inside. Oh dear God, she prayed, please have him call Les.
Les had told her that nothing would happen when Brad stepped on the starter. He would fix that. She could faintly hear the whining sound of his starter. After a few minutes she saw Brad come out of the garage and walk toward the Hunter House. She sighed in happy relief. Les had told her he would go back in and call him. She'd been afraid he would walk to his office, call Les from there to go pick up his car.
In about five minutes he came back out and walked back to the garage. As he stood there he lit a cigarette, smoked as he kept glancing up the street. She knew he was watching for Les. Again she was gripped with a cold fear. What if something had happened to Les? She was about to cry in frustration when she caught sight of Les coming rapidly down the street. He stopped his car and he and Brad exchanged some words.
She slipped downstairs and began making her calls.
When she'd finished the calls she slipped out the back way and into an alley. She was leaving the alley when she saw the police chief's car thunder up and stop at the garage with shrieking brakes. Not far behind came the sheriff's car. People began pouring out of houses and converging on the garage. Two more cars came speeding up and stopped. The startling news Sara had poured through the telephone had brought quick action.
Seeing how fast the crowd was collecting Sara began to fear she had waited too long. She began pushing her way vigorously through the crowd. The crowd must have thought she was a doctor or someone of importance. Anyway they let her through.
Sara reached the inside of the human semicircle just as a murmur of horror swept over the crowd.
She saw Les Holland holding up a bloody bit of flesh. It looked like the tiny, pitiful body of a newly born baby. She saw Brad tear his eyes away from the note she'd written him. Saw him turn his gaze on the bloody mess. His face was drained of all its color. His eyes took on a shocked, frightened look of horror. As if he were peeping through the gates of hell. His hands shook so nervously he dropped the note.
Chief of Police Peterson picked it up, read it.
"What's this?" the astonished Peterson asked in incredulous amazement. He looked at Les Holland. "Holland, you mean to tell me you found the cut up body of a newly born baby in the engine of Mr. Faulk's car?"
"I found this," Les said, holding out the bloody flesh.
"She did it! She murdered our baby," Brad said hoarsely, wetting his lips with his tongue. His eyes were full of frantic fear. He sagged as if he would faint. "She said she would. I didn't think she would but she did. Good God, it's the most horrible thing I ever heard of."
"Take it easy, Mr. Faulk. Get a grip on yourself," the sheriff said, taking hold of Brad's arm as he seemed about to fall. "Who is this she you are referring to? Who is this murderess who killed and cut up a newly born baby and stuffed the pitiful portions into the engine of your car? Tell us her name." The sheriff's voice was grim and deadly. A woman in the crowd uttered a little scream. Another woman took her by the arm and led her away from the scene.
Brad moaned unhappily, covered his face with his hands.
"Sara Hibbons," he muttered huskily. "It's her baby ... and mine."
For several tense, quiet, grim moments not a word was spoken. Les Holland's face clouded with anger. "That isn't so, Mr. Faulk. Why are you lying like that?" He would have attacked Brad but two officers grabbed and restrained him.
"It's true, Les," Brad said dully. "Only too true. She threatened to kill the baby when it came and send the dead body to me. Of course I didn't believe her. But she was in deadly earnest. She did it."
Excited expressions of shock and horror swept over the crowd. Sara could see by the puzzled expression on Les' face that he didn't understand it. Why had he become so angry at Brad when Brad had named her? Jealousy, Sara decided.
A man in faded blue serge suit and battered black hat and carrying a black medical case pushed his way through the crowd.
"Stand back and let the coroner through," the sheriff ordered. "Doc Hill, can you tell us how long that baby's been dead?"
The coroner made his way to the side of the engine, put on his glasses and began examining the bloody mess.
"Doc, how many days old is the baby?" asked the police chief.
The coroner did something strange: he smiled.
"What baby, Sheriff?"
At these words the crowd fell acutely silent again. The officers stared at the doctor as if he had taken out a harp, put on a pair of wings and began playing. He was quickly the cynosure of all eyes.
Chief Peterson wet his lips with his tongue, asked grimly, "That's the dead body of a newly born baby, isn't it?"
Dr. Hill chuckled.
"Of course it isn't. Who pulled the wool over your eyes this way? This bloody mess down in this engine is no baby. It's the body of a skinned squirrel, cut up and stuffed into the cylinders."
There was a few moments of astonished silence.
A man laughed loudly and that broke the tension and opened up the laughter valves. Even the officers joined in the merriment that rippled over the crowd. Sara looked at Brad. He wasn't joining in the laughter. He wasn't even smiling. There was a sort of shocked, incredulous look on his face. She saw people looking at him and smiling. Not only had she made him publicly acknowledge the baby, she had made him look ridiculous. Knowing Brad as she did, she knew that really hurt him.
She slipped back through the crowd, entered the alley and gained the rear of her boarding house. The landlady stared at her in amazement.
"It's all right," Sara told her. "I'm the new girl roomer."
She hurried up to her room to change.
She first had a good cry on her bed. When that was over she changed to her office garb. She was sure of only one thing. She didn't want to go to work. It was too late anyway. She went down to the phone and called Madge Adamson, told her she didn't feel like working. Madge told her to stay home until she felt better.
Sara knew her name would soon be all over town as the swift wings of gossip went to work. Even if she had the nerve to return to her job she would be fired by Charlie Guthrie. She was sure of it. She didn't believe the store would keep a girl who was the subject of so much malicious gossip. Anyway she wouldn't want to work many more weeks because of her pregnancy. She had the thousand dollars.
She spent the morning trying to decide what she should do.
When noon arrived she called a taxi. She told the cabbie to drive her out to the Blue Dinner Bell restaurant which was two miles from town. She hoped there would be no one there who knew her. She wanted to enjoy her lunch in peace. She dismissed the cabbie and went in. Since no one in the place paid any particular attention to her she knew the juicy story hadn't as yet reached them.
She killed a lot of time at the place. She read the paper, smoked and called for more coffee. Later she called a taxi and was taken to her room.
She went out to the park in an effort to get her mind off the morning event. She couldn't do it. She went to a community movie, got interested in the filmed story and for awhile got her mind off Brad Faulk.
That evening she went to a nearby eating place. But she quickly found the story about her had spread. Persons whispered furtively, looked at her curiously. She looked up several times to find herself the cynosure of all eyes. She kept her eyes on her plate, finished her meal as quicly as possible, hurried back to her room.
She cried herself to sleep that night.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Next day at noon Sara was getting ready to go out for her lunch when the landlady called her downstairs to the phone.
Sara hurried down, took the receiver.
"Hello, Sara. This is Brad. Had your lunch yet?"
She was too surprised to reply.
"Hello, hello! Are you there, Sara?"
"Yes," she managed to say.
"Look, Sara have you had lunch?"
"No."
"Be ready. I'll drive by and pick you up. I want to talk to. you."
"No. I have nothing to say to you."
"Aw, come now. Don't be like that. Maybe you have nothing to say to me but I have a lot to say to you. Some important things."
"I don't want to ever see you again."
"I do not blame you. But I'm asking you earnestly to let me see you this one more time. It's very, very important. Please, Sara."
She hesitated, not knowing what to say.
"You'll never regret it, Sara."
"Well ... all right. Where do you plan to take me? To your cottage?" Her voice was flavored with bitter sarcasm.
"No. Just outside town to the Freel Tavern. It's clean, cozy and respectable. How soon can you be ready?"
"By the time you get here."
"I'm on my way."
He picked her up and as he drove away they exchanged pleasantries. They seemed as if they'd just been introduced, exchanging nothing but dignified talk. Some remarks about the weather. Neither mentioned the topic which was on each mind.
Reaching the Freel Tavern, Brad parked and they went inside. He led her upstairs to a cozy little dining room. Their food was served so quickly Sara was surprised. Brad was the very personification of courtesy and politeness. His words were soft and gentle. She got the idea he was trying to soften her up for something he had to propose. She was right.
.Halfway through the meal he broke it.
"Sara, darling, I want you to marry me."
Sara halted a fork full of food in the air, stared at him as if he had proposed a suicide pact. She hadn't expected this.
"What did you say?"
"I said, darling, that I want to marry you." Brad repeated earnestly, smiling at her blank look of surprise.
She searched his eyes thoughtfully with her own gaze, lowered her eyes onto her plate. She wondered what his motive was. Not for a single moment did she believe he was in earnest. If he had wanted to marry her he would have done something about it long ago. He had a reason. She believed she knew what it was.
"I think I get it," she said acidly. "The unkind publicity you haVe received. And will continue to receive. Publicity brought on by my unmasking of your real self. You're afraid it will hurt your business. Maybe it's already hurting you. Perhaps you've learned there are some decent and upright people in Daleville who will not condone what you did. Even if you are the influential Bradley Faulk. I suppose the great bulk of your insurance business comes from decent people. I think you're scared lest they take their business from you because they loathe and disdain you. So you came running to me. You figured you'd marry me and put yourself back in the good graces of the blue bloods and decent citizenry. I've seen it happen this way. A teenager gets a girl in trouble and then marries her. Or perhaps an older couple finds it expedient to hastily marry. You thought I'd dance with joy when you asked me to marry you. Well, let me tell you I'm not buying it." Sara ... darling, I...."
"Don't darling me. You don't love me and you never did love me. I was just another young and virginous girl for you to seduce and despoil. Until you got tired of the sport. You tried to buy me off with your seduction fund. A fund that you set aside for just such happenings. At least that's my opinion. You had your chance to marry me. You scorned it. Well, Mr. Bradley Faulk you won't get another one. I wouldn't marry you now if you were the last man in the world. I know you don't love me."
"You're wrong, Sara. I do love you. I loved you all along. I was just too damned stubborn to admit it. I don't blame you for thinking I don't. But I do. I've been doing a lot of thinking. I've finally got my eyes open. I'm not asking you to marry me because of what happened. No indeed. I'm asking you to marry me for one reason only. Because I love you."
She shook her head incredulously. She wanted desperately to believe him but she was unable to do it.
"I don't believe you, Brad. I just don't believe you. You'd have to prove it to me before I'd believe it. You've proven instead that you do not love me. I cannot believe you now."
"Sara, if I prove to you ... in some way ... that I do love you? Would you believe it then?"
"I suppose so," she said, studying his face curiously "But how can you prove it?"
"I don't know." He shook his head hopelessly. "I don't know. But I do know it's the most important thing in the world to me. I've got to do it."
She thought he was just making talk. They finished their meal. On the way back to town Brad tried to persuade her to change her mind. But Sara was adamant. He dropped her off at her rooming house. She watched him drive away.
She went up to her room. She had been there less than an hour when the landlady called her, told her she had a caller.
Sara did a few things to her hair, worked on her lips and face a little. She tugged at her dress, patting it here and there. She looked at her image in the mirror from as many angles as possible. Finally deciding she was presentable she went downstairs.
The caller was Les Holland.
"I want to talk to you, Sara," he began earnestly, eating her up with his admiring eyes. "But not in here. My car is outside."
She had it on the tip of her tongue to ask him what he could see in her now. He knew about her shame. What could he have to say to her? But she bit off her words.
"Is it important, Les?"
"Very important, Sara."
She got in his car. He drove several blocks to a vacant lot, parked in the middle of the lot.
"Les, what can you see in me now? Isn't my sin and my shame more than enough to drive you from me forever?"
"Sara, I...."
"Les, was it a surprise to you? Had you ever jjj suspected Brad Faulk?"
"No, Sara. I could hardly believe it at first. Then ... and then when I was able to believe it I knew it wasn't your fault. I was mad enough to attack him. I never did tumble to what you were doing until I heard his words. I thought it was just a ghastly joke of some kind."
She nodded, said nothing.
"Sara ... darling ... I want you to marry me." She drew in her breath, stared at him incredulously.
"Marry you, Les? After this shameful thing?
Surely you can't mean it. Knowing that I'm bearing another man's baby. Oh, Les you're so kind and wonderful. You're the finest and most honorable man I've ever known. This is simply heavenly of you. The finest gesture I ever knew a man to make. But you're doing it because you're so sorry for me. Because you pity me so. You couldn't love me, Les after I gave myself willingly to Brad Faulk. Yes, it's true, Les. Take me to my room and tell me good-bye. Les, I shall never forget this wonderful act. I shall always think of you as...."
"I'm not doing it out of pity, Sara. I love you. I want to marry you. I'll treat the child as my own child. I love you. Please marry me, Sara."
She stared deeply into his eyes. Her own eyes misted with tears. She put her head against his shoulder and cried. He didn't try to stop her. He put his arm awkwardly, shyly about her, waiting patiently for her cry to end. Finally she lifted up her head and kissed him.
"Sara, I want your answer now. I want to marry you. Will you?"
She smiled through the tears. "Yes, Les. Yes, if you want me. I'll marry you."
He pulled her to him and kissed her hungrily. And Sara ... she hated herself for it ... couldn't help but compare his kiss with Brad's. The comparison was heavily in Brad's favor. But she yielded her lips passively, pliantly and obediently. But without any fire whatever.
"Darling, we'll make it Friday," Les said eagerly. "I'll tell Mom and Pop and...."
"No, Les. You mustn't. I want you to tell no one. It must be the quietest kind of wedding. No best man, no witnesses. Just the three of us. You and I and the magistrate. And he must be the least conspicuous magistrate in town. One who hasn't had a lick of business in months. A bachelor magistrate if possible."
"Why, Sara you must be talking about Hunley Brockshire."
"Am I? Who's he?"
"A magistrate. A bachelor. Lives alone in his cottage away out on Beacon street. The only time he ever gets any business is when all the other magistrates are too busy. Then he gets some crumbs. Shall we make it at ten o'clock Friday morning?"
"That will be all right."
Les kissed her again.
"Les, where are we going to live when we're married?"
"Anywhere you want to, Sara."
They talked awhile after which Les drove her to her rooming house, let her out. Back in her room Sara had another good cry. When she'd finished she wondered why she wasn't interested in going shopping, buying pretty things to make herself lovelier for her husband. She was completely indifferent to it. She looked casually through her things, decided she had enough.
That evening Les took her out to dinner. Afterward they went to a movie. Les was kind and gentle. If he wondered why Sara was so quiet and free of conversation he didn't show it. He did all the talking. He delivered her to her room shortly before midnight.
She slept late next morning, had breakfast at a nearby cafe.
She bought a couple of magazines, took them to her room and tried to get interested in them. But every picture she looked at seemed to turn into Brad. Every few lines and she would see the name Brad slipping into the script. She threw the. magazine down. She busied herself the next hour in bathing and dressing in her newest frock. By the time she'd fixed her hair it was one o'clock.
She wasn't hungry after her late breakfast but she went to the cafe anyway.
She missed Les by just a few minutes. He'd come to take her out to lunch. Learning from the landlady the name of the cafe she'd gone to, he followed her there. Arriving in front of the place he looked through the front window. He saw her seated alone at a back booth looking at a newspaper.
Grinning, as an idea popped into his head to surprise her, he went inside and slipped slowly and noiselessly toward her booth. She sat with her back to the front. Tiptoeing so he would make no noise, Les got right behind her without being observed. She was looking at a picture on the front page of The Dale County Courier. She had the paper on the table before her.
Les froze as he watched tears rolling down her cheeks. He wondered whose picture it could be to affect her so. As he watched silently she bent down her head, pressed her lips to the picture. Les turned and tiptoed silently from the cafe.
He bought a copy of the Courier, looked at the front page.
It was a picturee of Brad Faulk. It had been taken as Brad was receiving the award of a Daleville civic club as its "Man Of The Year."
Les stared at the picture for several moments. He turned and went in the opposite direction of the cafe.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sara had all her things packed and was ready when Les came for her Friday morning.
She smiled bravely as he kissed her. She carried two light packages down the stairs as Les was loading her bags in his sedan. It was a fair day and the morning sun was already giving a warm hint of what was to come. With all her things in the car Les climbed in behind the wheel.
"Sara, you're going to be happy, really happy," he said, smiling cheerfully at her.
"I hope so, Les. I've never known a finer fellow than you."
She knew she ought to say something about making him a good wife, making him happy. But she didn't. Les started the engine and drove slowly up the street.
"Les, you didn't tell your parents?"
"No, Sara. I kept my word."
As he drove along she looked out of the car at passing cars, trucks and pedestrians. All appeared to be totally indifferent to the fact it was her wedding day. Even the birds in the trees were singing no louder. A boy came racing along on a bicycle, didn't even look at her. A couple of teenagers ... boy and girl ... sat tightly together in a yellow sports car. Sara wondered what they would have said had they known she was on her way to get married. She stole a quick look at Les. He was busy watching the traffic. He caught her look, turned and gave her a warm smile. A dog trotted unconcernedly across the street and Les had to use his brakes to keep from hitting it.
She wondered what Brad was doing. What would he do if he knew she was on her way to marry Les at ten o'clock?
"It's so funny, Les."
"Funny. What's funny?"
"Funny to think I'm on my way to my wedding and the fact doesn't even seem to cause the slightest ripple in the flowing life of the town."
"That's the way it is, Sara. People are too busy with their own problems to show any concern over yours and mine. If they knew it was your wedding day I suppose they'd smile and wave at you. Maybe we should have put a big sign on our car saying we're on our way to be married."
Sara laughed at the idea.
"Well, why shouldn't couples put a sign on their car beforehand as well as afterward?" asked Les. "Do you know of any good reason?"
"No, Les."
Les drove into a side street and picked up some clothes he'd left at a cleaners. By the time the car got on Beacon street it lacked only a few minutes of ten. Yet Les seemed to be in no hurry. In fact he was so cool and calm that Sara wondered at it.
"Les, you certainly don't seem excited about our wedding."
"Sara, if you know what a struggle I'm putting up to appear calm and composed you'd get out and buy me some aspirin. Here we are. I hope the old coot's in. He said he'd be waiting."
Les parked the car.
"Sara," he said earnestly as he looked gravely into her hazel eyes. "In a few minutes you'll have a husband. There's an old custom in my family. My mother told me about it. She said that when she married Dad she closed her eyes when the ceremony began and didn't open them until the preacher told her husband to kiss his bride. She said women in our family had married that way for generations. I asked her why. She said it was just an old custom, she didn't know why."
Sara studied his grave face, decided he wasn't joking.
"You mean, Les you want me to close my eyes all during the marriage?"
"Yes, Sara. I hope you don't think I'm nutty."
"Are you really in earnest about it?"
"Yes, Sara."
"Okay, Les. I'll do it."
Les rapped on the door. It was opened by a gray-haired tall man in blue serge suit. He smiled at them.
"Come right in," he invited. "I see you're right on the dot. Gosh, what a pretty bride you have, Mr. Holland. Young lady, are you nervous?"
"I'm trying not to be," she said, smiling.
Brockshire wore a clean white shirt. His lean cheeks displayed signs of a recent shave. Sara wore a double duty two piece sheath dress in coral. It was linen-look rayon and acetate. Her hair covered her ears and came low on her forehead, its cascading waves matching her red lips. There were just the three of them in the room and Sara was thankful. The magistrate glanced at the old fashioned clock on the mantle.
"Well, you love birds, shall we get along with it?"
"Yes," Sara said rather weakly. "Stand right here then."
When he began his memorized chant Sara closed her eyes. When he got further along she thought she heard Les moving away from her. But she knew he couldn't be as the magistrate placed her hand in his. He mumbled over their names and Sara was sure he'd said Bradley Faulk. But she knew she couldn't be right. She was marrying Les Holland.
The two of them answered yes at the proper time.
"Now, sir you may kiss your bride," the magistrate said.
Sara felt hot, hungry lips on her own lips. The contact awakened a hidden fire in her. She felt hot tingling emotions sweeping over her. Emotions she had never expected to feel again. She glued her own receptive lips against the lips of her husband.
As his arms tightened about her she opened her eyes.
She was looking into the smiling eyes of Brad Faulk.
"Why ... what does this mean? I don't understand," she stammered weakly. She saw Les standing to one side grinning at her. "Les, what does this mean?"
"It means you married the man you love, Sara."
"That's right, darling," Brad said softly. "And you married a man who loves you. It was Les' idea. He came to me and told me how you'd cried over my picture and kissed it. He told me he couldn't make you happy because you didn't love him. He said you loved me and he wanted above everything for you to be happy. But he warned me your pride would never permit you to marry me unless we used a little trickery. He finally convinced me that I would be doing it for your happiness, Sara. His act is the most generous and magnanimous I ever heard of. So unselfish and considerate. We got the license in my name. We had to take the magistrate into our confidence. We had quite a time winning him over but finally did. He mumbled indistinctly when he came to my name less you caught on. Darling wife, are you mad at me?"
Instead of answering, Sara went over to Les and kissed him.
"Les, you are absolutely the finest and biggest hearted man I ever expect to see. I would have married you even though I still loved Brad. Such a wonderfully fine thing you did for us. I shall always treasure it as the most splendid act I ever saw. May God bless you and give you the happiness you deserve."
"Thanks, Sara. I wanted you to be happy above everything else."
"Les, the tale about it being an old custom in your family for the bride to shut her eyes? Just a gag, wasn't it?"
"Yes, Sara. I had to get your eyes shut."
She went back to her husband.
"Now, my husband I'll answer your question. I'm not mad at you. I'm too happy to be mad at anyone. And besides I'm too much in love with you."
Later, with her things transferred to Brad's car, she lay her head against her husband's shoulder as he started towards Florida.
"Darling, I told you I'd prove that I loved you," Brad said when they were past the city limits. "I'm selling out my rackets. Juke boxes, slot machines, beer joints and all. I'm going to use the money to make amends to the girls I've wronged. If my lawyer can locate all of them. It will be divided between them. I shall keep my insurance business. It's the only honest business I have. I built it up by hard work. Does that prove that I love you?"
"Yes, Brad. Tell me something. Were you mad at me for the trick I pulled on you? The bloody mess in the car cylinders?"
Brad chuckled. "I was too stunned and shocked to be mad. The sight of the blood. My belief that you'd killed our baby. I went to pieces. Didn't even know what I was saying. That was clever, really clever."
They were silent some little time as the big car ate up the miles.
"Well, my dear wife, what do you think of your new husband?" Brad finally asked her.
"Here's what I think of him."
She tilted his chin about just enough, planted her warm, hungry lips on those of her new husband.
