Sabrina's Man (17 page)

“Go away!”

“I'm not going away.” She opened the door and saw Marianne lying across the bed.

Her younger sister raised her head. Her eyes were red with weeping. “Leave me alone, Sabrina.”

“I'm not leaving you alone. I'm going to talk sense to you.”

For the next ten minutes Sabrina did her best to “talk sense” to Marianne, but it was like talking to a dead stump.

Marianne would do nothing but shake her head and say, “I love him, and I'm going to marry him.”

“You're not going to marry him. Why, I haven't even met him.”

“Your mind is made up against him. So is Mother's and Father's, but I don't care. I love him, and I'm going to have him.”

Sabrina was set back somewhat. Marianne had always been the gentle, easily led one of the two. Sabrina had been the bossy, demanding type, but now she had run up against a problem she had never encountered before. Marianne was obstinate; her mouth was set in a stubborn fashion, and she was glaring at Sabrina with resentment and anger. “We don't really know this man,” Sabrina said. “We don't know anything about his family.”

“I know one thing. I know I love him.”

“You're just in love with romance.”

“Don't start on me, Sabrina. I'm not going to listen.”

That, in essence, was Sabrina's effort to cause Marianne to listen. But after ten minutes of total silence from her sister, Sabrina gave up. “We'll talk about this some more when you feel better.” She waited for Marianne to answer, but when she still refused to speak, Sabrina got up and left the room. She went downstairs and found her father and mother waiting for her.

“What did she say?” her father demanded. His face was lined with care. He obviously expected her to have a good word.

“She won't listen to me now, but I'm not through yet. We can't give up.”

“She's like a different young woman,” Caroline Warren said. Her face was swollen from weeping, and she said, “Can't we just bundle her into a carriage and take her away?”

“She's not a child,” Charles Warren said.

“She is behaving like a twelve-year-old,” Sabrina said angrily. She was disturbed at having failed in her first attempt. Always before, whatever she pleased, she could get Marianne to agree to it, but this was a different young girl, and Sabrina's mouth set in a stubborn line. “I'm going to stay here and not let her out of my sight. And I'm going to meet this Gerald Robbins. I've got a word or two to say to him.”

“We've said everything we can think of to him and to her,” her father said. “It's a hopeless case.”

“No, it's not hopeless. I can fix it,” Sabrina said stubbornly. She turned and walked out of the drawing room and up the stairs.

She found Dulcie sitting in the midst of a pile of her clothes, waiting. “Did you talk her out of marrying that scoundrel?”

“You don't know he's a scoundrel.”

“I bet he is. He ain't no good man.”

“You wouldn't think any man was good enough.”

“That doesn't change that he's a scoundrel. You mark my words on that.”

“I'll make up my own mind on that,” Sabrina said. “I'm going to see him tomorrow.”

“You might have met your match this time. I don't think the Good Lord Himself could change Miss Marianne's mind.”

Sabrina could not sleep well that night. She woke up late. Dulcie was not there, so she put on a simple dress, brushed her hair, and started down the stairs.

She was met halfway down by her father, who had a sheet of paper in his hands. His face was pale.

“What is it, Father?”

“Read this.”

Sabrina took the paper and read it in one glance. It was in Marianne's handwriting, but where her handwriting was usually neat, this was obviously scratched at a moment's notice.

“When did she leave, Father?”

“Nobody knows. She went to bed early, and she was gone this morning. She must have made arrangements for Robbins to take her in the middle of the night.” He slumped over against the rail and looked as if he were about to fall.

“Don't worry, Father. We'll find them.”

“How? We don't know where she's going. We know very little about the man.”

“We'll find him. Don't worry. This isn't the end of this thing yet.” But even as Sabrina spoke, she knew that somehow something had ended in the life of their family. It was almost like a death, and Sabrina, for the first time in her life, felt helpless.

She had tried her best to change Marianne and failed. Now the thought that if she had stayed it might have been different came to her. She slowly descended the stairs, determined to give her mother all the comfort she could—which wasn't a great deal.

C
aesar was sitting in the kitchen eating a huge piece of cake, stuffing his mouth full.

Dulcie glared at him. “You eat like a hungry dog. Take little bites.”

“It's so good I can't hep it. You the best cook there is in addition to being the best-lookin' one around.”

“Don't you come at me with none of your ways. I ain't gonna stand for it, Caesar.”

Caesar's eyes opened wide. “Why, I was just being appreciative. You is good-lookin', and you is a fine cook.”

Dulcie did not object to these two descriptions of herself, but she plopped herself down, and her head drooped. “This place is a madhouse.”

“Sho' enough is. They all act like Miss Marianne died. She didn't die.”

“About the same to them. She says she's going to marry that man, but he ain't said one word to Mr. Charles 'bout marryin' her. I don't think he's got marriage on his mind. He didn't look like a marryin' man to me.”

“Well, he was a fine dresser and good-lookin' gentleman.”

“Gentleman? He ain't no gentleman.”

“How can you tell?”

“I've been around enough gentlemen to know one when I sees one. Mr. Frank Morgan, now he's a gentleman. Mr. Charles, he's a gentleman. Even that Mr. Lane Williams that been courtin' Miss Sabrina is a gentleman. But that fellow Robbins, he wasn't no gentleman. He's gonna ruin Miss Marianne, that's what.”

Caesar took a small portion of the cake and put it in his mouth. At once it was gone, and he took a larger portion. He washed it down with a glass of milk and said, “Miss Sabrina, she's plumb upset. I took her downtown today, and she snapped at me like I wuz a snake.”

“She's worried. First time she's ever been worried about anything.”

“She knows it's her fault.”

“How could it be her fault? It was her sister who run off.”

“If she had stayed here and helped, she could have done somethin'. No, she had to go to New Orleans and spend a lot of money on clothes that she didn't need nohow.”

“She surely was upset. She didn't even look like herself.”

“Her father is going to have to have a doctor for his wife. She about to lose her mind.”

The two sat in the kitchen, continuing to discuss the plight of Marianne.

Downstairs in the larger of the two parlors, Charles was trying to comfort Caroline, who was weeping. “Dear, you simply must get ahold of yourself. I think we'd better have the doctor.”

“What could he do?” Caroline wailed. “He couldn't bring Marianne back.”

“No, but he could give you something for your nerves.”

“What are we going to do? What can we do?”

“I tell you what I'm going to do right now. I'll leave Sabrina here to care for you. I'm going down to the police.”

Caroline's eyes widened. “Do you think he kidnapped her?”

“I'm sure we couldn't charge him with that since she went willingly enough, but at least the police will know how to find her. . . I hope. I'll go get Sabrina. You try to lie down and get some rest.”

Charles Warren left the drawing room and went at once to Sabrina's room. When he knocked on the door, she opened it up. “Sabrina, I'm going to town. You stay with your mother. Try to keep her calm as you can.”

“Why are you going to town, Father?”

“I have no idea how to find my daughter. I'm going to the police.”

Sabrina at once said, “That's a good idea. Let me go with you.”

“No, you stay here with your mother. I don't know how long I'll be. If your mother gets worse, call Dr. Simpson. Have him come. Have him give her something that'll make her sleep. And make her stop worrying so much.”

“I'm not sure there is anything like that.” Then she said bitterly, “I need some myself.”

Warren looked at his daughter and saw with surprise that her face showed signs of tears. “I haven't seen you cry since you were seven.”

“It's all my fault! I should have stayed here.”

“I don't think it would have made any difference, but you do what you can now by taking care of your mother.”

“Come back home as soon as you find out something.”

“I'll do it, daughter. Try not to worry.”

“I won't do that. I should be worrying. I should have been more careful.” It was an admission that his strong-willed daughter did not often make.

As Charles left the house he thought,
This thing has broken Sabrina. That shows how bad it is
.

“I'm sorry that we're not able to do more, Mr. Warren.”

The chief of police was a personal friend of Charles Warren. His name was Louis Stone, and he was a good policeman.

It was the day after Warren had come and laid his problem before the chief. Now Stone shook his head. “I've had my best detectives out, and they can't find a trace of the man. Nothing solid. I don't think Robbins is his real name.”

“Any leads at all?”

“Well, they found the hotel where he lived. Several people knew him, but he didn't talk about himself. We did find out one thing…”

“What's that?” Warren asked eagerly.

“Strangely enough it was from a boot black. He was polishing Robbins's shoes, and Robbins started talking to a man sitting next to him. The boy's name is Jason. Seems like a reliable witness. He told my men one thing that might give you a lead.”

“What's that?”

“He mentioned Robbins going to Oklahoma.”

“Well, that's a big place. It would take forever,” Warren said sadly.

“Well, he went a little bit more into detail,” Chief Stone said. “Said Robbins mentioned Judge Parker's territory. You know what that is?”

“I don't believe I do.”

“Judge Parker is the judge over the whole Indian Territory. It's supposed to be just for the Indians, but every hard case, gunman, and crook running from the law in the country goes to Oklahoma Territory. Jason said this fellow laughed and said he could hide out there for a hundred years and nobody would ever find him.”