Authors: Grace Livingston Hill
CRIMSON MOUNTAIN (22 page)
They had a delightful evening, going into this and that question, as Laurel came up against new things that she had never understood.
She went home rather late and slipped in the side door and up to her room without meeting anyone, for which she was glad. But when she unlocked her door and stepped into her room, shutting the door silently, she heard voices just outside her window, on the upper porch, where usually no one went.
Carl Byrger and the new men, Armand Gratz and Godfrey Schmidt, had come back to the house a little before the bell rang for the evening meal and were given places in the far dining room. Mrs. Price always did her best to seat her boarders with regard to social position. The front dining room was pretty well filled up with what she considered “the elite.” Laurel Sheridan was obviously in the most desirable seat in the front dining room.
But Laurel Sheridan of course was not at dinner that night and did not see any of the new people who had come to the house while she was gone.
Gratz and Schmidt were neither of them troubled by self-effacementor shyness. They considered that anything in the house was theirs by rights. Weren’t they paying their board like anybody else? So they had no sooner mounted to their small third-story room after dinner than they slowly drifted about the third floor taking in all its few points, trying all the doors, opening one that was not locked, just to find out if there were better rooms than the one that had been assigned to them. They examined the articles left in the unlocked room then went back to their own room, looked out the window, and discovered the uncovered porch down below them. They decided that would be a good place to sit, so they put on sweaters and descended the stairs. After mulling about a bit, they found the door to the porch and, marching in, took possession of the three rickety chairs that had been out there all summer. It was just about the time that Laurel walked into her room and shut her door.
“Hey! Look out!” said Schmidt. “What was that noise I heard? Some door shut? What?”
“Nuthin’ to worry about,” said Gratz.
“But these rooms are all occupied, the woman said. Careful how you speak.”
Then Bryger, hearing them step out on the porch, appeared at the door.
“Oh, here you are. What you saying? Anybody hear you? Na, you don’t need to worry. This middle room won’t be occupied till tomorrow. Two fellas from the city coming, Winter and Rainey. And the room up at the end—some dame has that. But she ain’t here. She’s been away mostly all day. Probably won’t come back till late tomorra. I think she has friends where she stays weekends.”
“Oh, that’s good!” said Schmidt. “Then you sit down, Byrger. I gotta question. Where we gonta get the dynamite when we get ready to give ’em the works?”
“Oh, there’ll be plenty of that around. We’ll swipe some now and again when they don’t keep such good count of them. Times when there are a lot of men working on blasting and things.”
“So!” said Gratz thoughtfully. “And where’ll we keep ’em till the time comes so we can get ’em quick?”
“I know,” said Schmidt. “I saw two gravestones up the other side of the road this afternoon. We can make a place behind those stones. People won’t expect dynamite in a graveyard. Some folks are superstitious. They don’t like dead folks. They’re afraid of ghosts!”
“That’s an idea, Schmidt,” said Byrger. “Keep that in mind and be ready to work it when you see a chance. I guess you boys will make a go of it all right. But don’t mention it to the two men that are coming tomorrow. They think they know it all! Especially Winter. He thinks he’s the boss. It’s just as well for you to keep your secrets to yourselves, at least for the present.”
“Okay!” agreed Schmidt. And then after a pause, “You know who b’longs to those gravestones? Anybody who can make trouble if they find out?”
“No, I don’t think so. I heard it was the man who sold the government the land for the plant. He won’t likely be around. I heard he had went away. But you gotta hide that stuff so well nobody can’t find it but yerselves anyway, ya know. And you gotta get it out in the dark. You gotta fix it so’s you can find it in the blackest dark. You can’t run no risks when the time comes.”
“Okay!”
Then Gratz spoke. “When ya gonta pull this job off?”
“Well, not for some time yet. You’ll have plenty of time to make yer plans and get ready. The plant ain’t built yet. It’s goin’ up fast, but there’ll be some time fer ya ta work at laborin’ an’ throw off suspicion. You gotta act awful dumb ya know, so nobody won’t suspect afterward. Soon as they get the plant built, then I begin my work. Those two other fellas will be helpin’ me, but I’m the inventor, see? They’re not supposed ta know the secret. Now
you
don’t know neither, see? They’re supposed ta hev bought this invention from some great man out in a perfessor’s college, an’ he sent me here to put it up for him. I hadta study with him for a long time till he could trust me to put the thing in shape, and after it’s supposed to be ready to work and produce, he’s liable ta come here anytime he likes and keep check on whether it’s doing the work right. Somebody on the other side heard about this secret and had me sent over ta get in on it. That’s how I got it. And there wouldn’t be any way to hold up the production of it unless something was ta blow it up, just as they was ready to produce. See? That’s where
you
come in.”
From their first word, Laurel had sat breathless in the dark on the foot of her bed, just as she had dropped down when she first heard them discussing whether she was in her room. If she could hear their voices as clearly as that, then they could hear her every movement. It was at first mere self-preservation that kept her quiet. She thought they would not likely stay here long, and then she would be rid of them. But when she heard the word
dynamite
, she held her breath in fright. What was she listening to? Were these men planning something dreadful, some gangster’s job or some terrible disaster? She had read of fifth columnists. Was this something like that? Or were they merely discussing some difficult work they had to do about building the plant? Oh, she wished she knew. Of course she was utterly ignorant on such subjects. It might be that all this talk was perfectly legitimate and she just did not understand it. But it sounded very tricky and crooked.
And then suddenly she sat up very straight and caught her breath again as they spoke of those two white stones by the roadside as a possible place for stowing dynamite. Her head whirled at the thought. She thought of the roses she had herself laid below those white stones, and the sacred little service in the sunset that she and Phil Pilgrim had held together. It seemed that they were almost blasphemous, speaking of those two graves in connection with their evil devices.
Then as they went on and Byrger outlined the whole wicked scheme, her heart was beating wildly. Oh what was this, and why had it been revealed in her hearing? Had she some responsibility about it, as if a plot to kill someone had been revealed, and she was the only one who knew about it? Surely someone else ought to be told. Who could she tell?
Not Mrs. Gray. She was only a woman. She would scarcely be likely to know about things like this. Not any of her father’s and mother’s old friends, even if they were at home. They would simply think she was in a terrible place and ought to be rescued from it. Well, perhaps she was. But that was a secondary consideration. This was something that ought to be attended to
at once—yet
what could she do? To whom could she go who would know what to do? Not the young minister in Mrs. Gray’s church. He was away at his seminary all the week, and anyway she did not know him well enough. This was a serious matter. It would take someone with courage and wisdom to deal with this. She must not trust just anyone with what she had heard. Not Mark at the garage. He was only an ignorant man and would perhaps be afraid to meddle in such matters.
Well, she was afraid, too. Who could help her? If only Phil Pilgrim were here, he would know what to do! He was in the army, and there might be some officer there that he knew who could work the matter out, but maybe that would be dangerous for Phil. Oh! What should she do?
Her eyes were wide with terror, and her breath came in quick, soft gasps. She must not make a noise. They must not hear her.
Gradually, as she grew calmer and could think more connectedly, it came to her that there was no immediate danger. Nothing terrible would happen tonight. That stolid Byrger had said they must wait till the plant was finished and this secret-something that was being made to figure greatly in the defense project of the country was completed. All that could not be done in a day. Even the dynamite that was to be hidden in those quiet graves was not here yet. There was nothing immediate that was going to happen. There was time to think it out and understand it. But if she only had someone she could trust, who would take over this awful burden that had suddenly been thrust upon her as a duty, and carry it, and bring it out all right, how good it would be!
It was just then it came to her. The memory that she did have someone to whom she could bring her burden. “Casting all your care upon him, for he careth for you.” Just a little verse from her childhood, and she bowed her head and prayed in her heart.
Oh God, I am weak and frightened and ignorant. I don’t know anything about this, and I don’t know how to do anything about it. Won’t you please take over for me and work this thing out the way You want it to be, so that the secret that is so necessary to safety here in our country shall not be lost, and that lives shall not be sacrificed? If there is anything You want me to do about this, please show me what it is and help me to be wise about it and not afraid. Help me to know that You are carrying on. For Christ’s sake, I ask it
.
And just then she heard Byrger say to the men, “Well, come on, fellas, time to hit the hay! Besides, it’s getting chilly out here. Come on, let’s go in.” And then she could hear their heavy shoes squeaking down the hall and up the stairs. Byrger went inside his room and shut the door. Finally, she knew they all must be asleep. But she stole around her room quietly in the dark, for if any of them were about, she did not want them to know she had been in the house and might have heard them. And so at last she lay down to rest, her head pillowed on prayer.
I
t was a bright, beautiful morning when she awoke. The crimson and gold from the mountain shimmered off in the distance like a flame in the sky. Though somehow she felt it was fading and must be near its end. The leaves were beginning to fall. The winter was almost here. The wind was cold as she shut her window and went about her preparations for the day.
Then she remembered what she had heard last night, and a great depression settled over her. No, she must not take that burden upon herself again. She had given it to the Lord, and she would leave it there!
But she was glad that Mrs. Gray had asked her to come and spend the day and go to church with her. Well, she wouldn’t go down to breakfast this morning. She had a box of crackers in her room and a few grapes. Those would do in place of breakfast. She did not want to meet those awful men who had talked that way last night. She was sure her telltale eyes would let them see that she had heard them, and until she knew what she ought to do about it, she wanted no contact with them. Perhaps she ought to leave this boardinghouse at once. Or could it be possible that she had a duty to stay here and perhaps get more information and help to avert some kind of a calamity? And what was that they had said about Tom Rainey and Bruce Winter? That they were coming here? Would either of them be ones she could tell? No! She did not altogether trust either of them. Oh, she didn’t want to see them now.
She ate her crackers and grapes and bided her time till she saw the three men who had been on the porch last night go out of the house and make their way up the mountain road. Then when they were out of sight, she slipped out of the side door, got her car, and was soon away.
But all day long, though she had a happy time with Mrs. Gray, she had the matter of the munitions plant in her mind, as though she were a soldier under orders, awaiting a command. She had a feeling that while the Lord had taken the burden from her, He yet would be expecting her to do something when He got ready to tell her what it was. How she was to know, she had no definite idea, but she felt she would understand when the time came. Till then she could only wait.
Several times during the day she was on the verge of telling Mrs. Gray, yet again and again she hesitated.
When she went home that night, she looked up at old Crimson and thought of what might happen up there some night when Carrollton was asleep. How there might be an explosion that would shake the mountain, and then a fire that would light up the sky for miles around. Old Crimson on fire! And if that ever happened some night while she had been sleeping and she should awake and see that crimson glow, she would never forgive herself for not having told somebody. And yet who could she tell but God, who would have any authority to do anything about it, or who would know what to do?
That night Rainey and Winter arrived late and grumbled noisily in the hall over the fact that there was but one room for the two of them.
“I told you, Mrs. Price, that we wanted two rooms. We were to have the end room and this next room that you have given us.”
“Yes, but the man you brought with you took the end room. He said he was the head of your bunch of men anyway and he had the right to choose.”
“The
head!”
sneered Winter. “He certainly is
not! I’m
in charge of this bunch, and I intend to have that room!”
“Well, what’ll I do with Mr. Byrger? He won’t like it. He’s very hard to please.”
“Put him in that other room, up by the front stairs. Or else, perhaps
I’ll
take that. Let me see it.”
“No, sir, you can’t see it tonight. The young lady is in that.”
“Young lady? I thought you told me you didn’t know if she was going to stay.”
“Well, I wasn’t rightly sure then, but she’s staying. I haven’t asked her yet if she means to stay all winter. I wouldn’t want ta lose her.”
“Well, would you rather lose all three of us?” Winter asked, glaring. “I’m in charge of this gang, I tell you, and I want them together. We have to have conferences sometimes about the work, you know.”
“Well, I’ll ask her in the mornin’ if you insist,” said Mrs. Price, “but I can’t promise you nothin’ till then. Anyhow, tanight you’ll havta take that middle room. It’s all I got vacant at present except a little one in the third story where an old lady is leaving tamorra morning. I could ask her ef she would mind sleepin’ with me tonight ef that would suit ya, and one of you could sleep here, and one of you could sleep up there.”
The two young men cast a withering stubborn glance at each other, and then Winter answered crustily, “No thanks. We’ll camp together tonight, but tomorrow morning we want separate rooms on this floor, or we leave and go somewhere else.”
Then Laurel heard the two go grumbling to their room, and she lay there quietly trying to think it out. Certainly she did not wish to stay here any longer. Just how should she manage it?
Tomorrow morning was Monday, and she must be at school on time. That was her limitation. Therefore she must be up early in the morning. She must pack her things as quickly as possible for moving, and she would not go down to breakfast. She did not want to meet these young men, not at present anyway.
Both Tom Rainey and Bruce Winter had called upon her several times while she was with Cousin Carolyn. They had taken her to a couple of parties and out to dinner, and if she met them now, it would probably involve her in all sorts of complications. They might become as troublesome as Adrian Faber. Meeting them later, just casually, it would not be so hard to deal with them. But meeting them at a common abiding place was another thing.
So she packed early next morning and had all in readiness to move, watching the window meanwhile until she saw the two young men get into their car and drive away. Then she rang for the house boy and told him to take her baggage down to her car. she went ahead of him and opened the garage door and the back of her car, and when everything was stowed carefully inside, just as when she had arrived, she drove her car around to the front of the house and came into the office.
By this time Mrs. Price had arrived at the desk, two red spots glowing on her high cheekbones.
“What’s up, I’d liketa know?” she demanded stormily. “What are ya tryin’ to do? Sneak away on me?”
“Oh no, Mrs. Price,” said Laurel pleasantly. “You see, I happened to overhear the disturbance in the hall last night and that your two boarders who wanted my room had returned, so I thought it would be a good thing for me to get right out so you wouldn’t lose any rent.”
“Well, really, Miss Sheridan! What kind of a thing is that for you to do! I didn’t ast ya ta leave. You shouldda come and ast me whether it was all right for ya ta stay. You was sa anxious ta keep that room, so I put them two men together. Ef they don’t like it, they can lump it. Now you must call that house boy and make him take them things o’ yours right back upstairs! I’ll make it right with them two men.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Price. I’m afraid I can’t do that. I’ve already arranged to go to a friend’s for a while, and I don’t think I care to come back here. I understand Mrs. Frisbie on the third floor is leaving this morning, and you know it isn’t so pleasant for a girl to be rather alone in a house full of men?”
“What’s the matter with the men?” snapped Mrs. Price. “They’re all good, respectable men, ain’t they?”
“Why, I guess so,” said Laurel. “I wouldn’t really know. The ones I’ve met all have been quite pleasant, but I think I would rather go where there are more ladies. I think I agreed to give up my room if your two boarders came, so I’m paying you for the week’s board that is due, and I hope you will have a very successful season. Good-bye! I’ll probably see you again sometime. I must hurry to my school now.”
Laurel was grateful that she had a friend in Mrs. Gray to fall back on now. Mrs. Gray had often asked her to come and stay with her for a while. She wouldn’t
stay
there of course, but it was nice to feel that she could go there now for a few days and be confident that she would be received with a warm welcome. Of course it couldn’t be permanent, as Mrs. Gray expected her sister and her husband to visit her soon, and anyway, Laurel felt it was better for her to be just a friend who could run in when she liked, rather than to settle down there permanently even if she were asked. But now she turned her car toward the school. There would not be time for her to go to Mrs. Gray’s before school.
But when she got to school, she found a note on her desk that the janitor said a lady had left for her.
Surprised, she opened it quickly and read:
Dear Laurel:
I’ve just had a telegram from a dear friend up in the country who has been taken very sick. She wants me to come to her at once. I shall have to leave immediately. Will you do me the favor of telephoning the class that they will meet Tuesday night at Mrs. Bristol’s house, 1728 Maple Road? And will you also please ask Mr. Stanton to meet our teacher’s train and take him to Mrs. Bristol’s?
I am sorry to make you all this trouble, dear, but I don’t know who else I could ask who would be able to do it. I am enclosing the telephone list, and I hope you will excuse me for being so hasty. I must make the next bus
.
Thank you
.
With a great deal of love
,
Rosalie Gray
Laurel sank into her seat in dismay. Now what was she to do? It would not be hard work to call up the class and give them the proper message, but what was she to do herself?
Then she heard the gong sounding for the opening of school, and the students came marching through the halls and turning into their various classrooms. Her own entered just then and took their places at their desks, and in a moment more the usual morning procedure began like clockwork. She had no time to think about her own problems, though occasionally the matter would come to her mind like a thorn in the flesh reminding of its presence.
At morning recess time, Laurel drew a small piece of paper toward her while one of the other teachers was trying to explain how disagreeable old Miss Fenton had been to her when she told her that her niece would have to go back to the lower grade because she wouldn’t study and couldn’t keep up with her class. And when the other teacher had gone on to tell somebody else her troubles, Laurel looked at the paper and found she had written:
P
OSSIBILITIES
Tea Room?
Hotel?
YWCA (Is there one?)
And what could she add to that meager list? Should she go to the principal and ask questions? Were there other boardinghouses in the neighborhood? Somebody would know. Yet she shrank from putting her predicament before any of the teachers. They would one and all set to work to turn heaven and earth for her. Insist on her coming home with them. And she didn’t want to do it. She wanted to be independent.
Now what was she going to do? She didn’t want to ask anyone in the school about a boarding place because there were some foolish girls who were so crazy over her that they would demand that their parents take her in to board, and that might be very embarrassing. No, she had to work this thing out by herself.
All morning as she went through her daily schedule, she was trying to think the problem through. Oh, if Phil Pilgrim were only here, he would find a right place for her. Ah, but she had God! She must put the matter all in his hands. Rest it there.
So she prayed for guidance.
At noon Laurel went to the telephone and called up the tearoom, asking if they had any vacant rooms, but again she found the tearoom vacancies were all filled. She asked if they knew any other places where there were rooms and was given a couple of addresses that might be possibilities.
“There are so many new workers at the munitions plant, you know, that I’m afraid you’ll find it hard to locate any vacancies,” said the proprietress of the tearoom helpfully.
She glanced at her poor little list and telephoned the hotel. Yes, they had a few rooms, fourth floor, no elevator. She got into her car and drove slowly by the hotel but was not impressed by the company who lolled around on the porch. Pilgrim had told her it was no place for her to go.
She went to the post office and asked about a YWCA but was told there wasn’t any. Then on the way back, she eyed several tourist places, but somehow none of them appealed to her. What was she going to do? Was she too particular? Surely there must be some other boardinghouse that would be fairly cheap and comfortable.
At her desk during a study period after lunchtime she wrote a brief letter to Phil Pilgrim, realizing that his letters must no longer go to Mrs. Price’s house.
Dear Phil:
This is just a hasty note to ask you to address any mail you may be sending to General Delivery till further notice. I am clearing out from my boarding place this afternoon and am not just sure yet where I am going. Will let you know the definite address as soon as I am sure that it is all right
.
The other place got too full of workmen for the new plant, and the women all left but one, so I thought I’d get out also. Those two acquaintances of mine were among the new arrivals, so I thought I’d better go before I had to meet them. Thus the haste
.
The schoolwork is going strong, and I like it
.
When do you have to move, and where? I wish you were here. I’d like to ask your advice about something
.
Yours as ever
,
Laurel
This she would mail when school was out, and then she would go out and find someplace to stay that night. If worst came to worst she would go and ask Mark’s advice. That was an idea. Why not?
So she got through her afternoon work calmly, excused herself from the attentions of her admiring pupils and a teacher who wanted to talk, and got out of her job.
She mailed her letter and then started on a slow drive around the streets that would be most convenient to her work in case she found a boarding place.
There were plenty of cozy little homes, but none to which she quite felt like applying. They seemed like private houses. They had no signs out for either boarders or lodgers. And then all at once she saw a meek, drab little figure walking along a side street, with a familiar slump to her shoulders and a familiar droop to her head. Was that Mrs. Frisbie? Perhaps she would know of a place.
