Darker Than You Think (4 page)

"How?"

"They
were on the trail at night, when a black leopard jumped on Rowena out
of a tree—it was actually a leopard, Mondrick said, and not a
native in a leopard skin. But I guess the coincidence was a little
too much for native bearers. They all lit out, and the beast had
Rowena down before Mondrick's shots frightened it away. Her wounds
were infected, of course, and I think she very nearly died before he
got her back to any sort of hospital.

"That
was her last expedition with him, and he never went back to Africa—I
believe he gave up the idea that Homo sapiens originated there. After
that, do you think it's any wonder if she seems a little strange? The
leopard's attack was so tragically ironic— huh?"

Glancing
at the taut white face of April Bell, he had caught an expression
that shocked him—a look of burning, cruel elation. Or had the
gray dusk and the harsh light from the building merely played an
unkind trick with her unusual features? She smiled at his startled
grunt.

"It
does seem ironic," she whispered lightly, as if not much
concerned about Rowena Mondrick's old disaster. "Life plays
queer tricks sometimes." Her voice turned grave. "It must
have been a dreadful blow."

"It
was, I know." Barbee felt relieved at her solicitude. "But
it didn't break Rowena. She's a charming person, really. No
self-pity. She has a sense of humor, and you soon forget she's
blind."

He
caught the girl's arm, feeling the sleek softness of that snowy fur.
The black kitten blinked at him with huge blue eyes from the
snakeskin bag.

"Come
along," he urged. "You'll like Rowena."

April
Bell hung back.

"No,
Barbee!" she whispered desperately. "Please don't—"

But
he was already calling heartily: "Rowena! It's Will Barbee. The
paper sent me down to get a story on your husband's expedition, and
now I want you to meet my newest friend—a very charming
redhead—Miss April Bell."

The
blind woman turned eagerly at the sound of his voice. Nearing sixty,
Mondrick's wife preserved a youthful slenderness. The thick coils of
her hair had been entirely white since Barbee first knew her; but her
face, flushed now with excitement and the cold, seemed firm and pink
as a girl's. Used to them, Barbee scarcely saw her opaque black
glasses.

"Why,
hello, Will." Her musical voice was warm with pleasure. "It's
good to know your friends." Shifting the dog's short leash to
her left hand, she held out the right. "How do you do, Miss
April Bell?"

"Very
well." The girl's voice was sweetly remote, and she made no move
to take the blind woman's extended hand. "Thank you."

Flushed
with embarrassment for Rowena, Barbee tugged sharply at the girl's
fur sleeve. She jerked stiffly away. He peered at her face and saw
that her cheeks had drained colorless, leaving her lips a wide red
slash. Narrowed and darkened, her greenish eyes were staring at
Rowena's thick silver bracelets. Nervously, Barbee tried to save the
situation.

"Careful
what you say," he warned Rowena with attempted lightness.
"Because Miss Bell is working for the
Call,
and
she'll put every word down in shorthand."

The
blind woman smiled, to Barbee's relief, as if unaware of April Bell's
puzzling rudeness. Tilting her head to listen again at the whispering
sky, she asked anxiously: "Aren't they down?"

"Not
yet," Barbee told her. "But the dispatcher says they're in
the landing pattern."

"I'll
be so glad when they're down safe." she told him uneasily. "I've
been so dreadfully worried, ever since Marck went away. He isn't
well, and he insists on taking such frightful risks."

Her
thin hands quivered, Barbee noticed, and clutched the dog's short
leash with a desperate tenseness that turned the knuckles white.

"Some
buried things ought to stay buried," she whispered. "I
tried to get Marck not to go back to those digs in the Ala-shan. I
was afraid of what he would find."

April
Bell was listening intently, and Barbee heard the catch of her
breath.

"You,"
she whispered, "afraid?" Her pen shuddered above the tiny
notebook. "What did you expect your famous husband to find?"

"Nothing!"
The blind woman gasped the word, as if alarmed. "Nothing,
really."

"Tell
me," the girl insisted sharply. "You may as well, because I
believe I can already guess—"

Her
low voice broke into a stifled scream, and she stumbled backward. For
the shepherd's leash had slipped out of the blind woman's fingers.
Silently, the huge dog lunged at the cowering girl. Barbee kicked
desperately, but it rushed past him, fangs bared viciously.

Barbee
spun, snatching for the dragging leash. The girl had thrown up her
arms instinctively. Her snake-skin bag, flung out in an accidental
arc, fended the slashing jaws from her throat. Savagely silent, the
animal tried to spring again, but Barbee had caught the leash.

"Turk!"
Rowena called. "Turk, to heel."

Obediently,
still without a growl or bark, the big dog trotted toward her. Barbee
put the leash back in her groping hand, and she drew the bristling
animal to her side.

"Thank
you, Will," she said quietly. "I hope Turk didn't hurt your
Miss Bell. Please tell her that I'
m
extremely
sorry."

But
she didn't scold the dog, Barbee noticed. The huge tawny beast stood
close against her black skirt, snarling silently, watching April Bell
with baleful eyes. Pale and shaken, the girl was retreating toward
the terminal building.

"That
nasty dog!" A sallow, sharp-featured little woman came back from
the group ahead, scolding in a plaintive nasal whine. "Now
remember, Mrs. Mondrick, I begged you not to bring him. He's getting
ugly, and he'll hurt somebody."

Calmly,
the blind woman stroked the dog's head. She caught the wide collar
with a small deft hand, gently fingering the heavy silver studs.
Rowena, Barbee recalled, had always loved silver.

"No,
Miss Ulford," she murmured softly. "Turk was trained to
guard me, and I want him with me always. He'll not attack anybody,
unless they're trying to harm me." She listened to the throbbing
sky again. "Isn't the plane down yet?"

Barbee
had seen no threatening gesture from April Bell. Shocked and puzzled
by Rowena's behavior, he hurried back to the red-haired girl.
Standing beside the glass door of the bright-lit waiting room, she
was caressing the black kitten, murmuring softly: "Be still,
darling. That big, bad dog doesn't like us, but we needn't be
afraid—"

"I'm
sorry, Miss Bell," Barbee said awkwardly. "I didn't know
that would happen."

"My
fault, Barbee." She smiled at him contritely. "I shouldn't
have taken poor little Fifi so near that evil brute of a dog."
Her greenish eyes glowed. "Thank you so much for pulling him off
me."

"Turk
never acted that way before," he said. "Mrs. Mondrick wants
to apologize—"

"Does
she?" April Bell glanced obliquely at the blind woman, her long
eyes quite expressionless. "Let's forget the incident," she
said briskly. "The plane's coming in, and I want you to tell me
about those others waiting."

She
nodded eagerly at the little group beyond the blind woman, all
hopefully watching the low, ragged cloud bases that now began to glow
with a soiled pink from the reflected lights of the city.

"Okay."
Barbee was glad to ignore that awkward and somewhat baffling
occurrence. "The sharp-nosed little woman who came back to
Rowena is her nurse, Miss Ulford. She's the one that's usually
ailing, though, and Rowena actually does most of the nursing."

"And
the others?"

"See
the old gent just lighting his pipe—only he's too excited to
get the match struck? That's old Ben Chittum. Rex's granddad, and the
only relative he has. Runs a newsstand down on Center Street, just
across from the
Star
building.
He put Rex through school, until Mondrick got him that scholarship."

"And
the rest?"

"The
little fellow in the long overcoat is Nick Spivak's father. The
proud-looking, dark-haired woman is Mrs. Spivak. They have a tailor
shop in Brooklyn, on Flatbush Avenue. Nick's the only son. He's got
over saying 'woik' and 'goil,' but he still thinks the world of them.
They've been awfully upset ever since Nick went back with the
expedition. They must have written me a dozen letters, wanting to
know if I had heard anything. They came down to meet Nick on the
morning plane. I suppose he wired them from the coast.

"Most
of the others are friends, and people from the Foundation. There's
Professor Fisher, from the anthropology department at the university.
And Dr. Bennett, who has been in charge out at the Foundation—"

"Who's
the blonde?" interrupted April Bell. "Smiling at you."

"Nora,"
Barbee said softly. "Sam Quain's wife."

He
had first met Nora the same night Sam did—at the freshman mixer
during registration week at Clarendon. Fourteen years hadn't dimmed
the friendly sparkle of her eyes; the smiling matron now, he thought,
waiting for her husband, looked as happily breathless as that slim
girl had been, excited over the bright new world of the university.

Barbee
started toward her with April Bell, circling cautiously wide of
Rowena Mondrick's watchful dog. Nora glanced hopefully again at the
murmuring clouds and came to meet them, leading little Pat.

Patricia
Quain had just turned five years old and was very proud of that
accomplishment. She had her mother's wide blue eyes and cornsilk
hair, but her pink stubborn face showed a reflection of Sam's square
chin. She was tugging back, peering hungrily into the darkening sky.

"Will
Daddy be safe, up there in the cold night?"

"Of
course, darling. Nothing could happen to them now." But Nora's
warm voice was not so cheerful as she tried to make it, and she
called anxiously: "Do you think they'll be much longer, Will? We
can hardly wait. I made the mistake of looking up the Ala-shan
country in Sam's library, and after that I could hardly sleep.

Two
years is such a long time. I'm afraid Pat won't know her father."

"Yes,
I will, Mother." The child's firm voice showed Sam's own
determination. "I'll know my own Daddy."

"There!"
Barbee heard the bark of wheels scuffing the runway. The anxious
tension of those breathless watchers had got into him, and he smiled
at Nora, sharing her glad relief. "They're down safe, and
they'll taxi in now."

Holding
the girl's fur sleeve, he glanced watchfully at Rowena Mondrick's
great dog, standing against his mistress and glaring ominously at
April and the blue-eyed kitten.