Savage. Part 17

She just kind of flowed along, all graceful and elegant.

She put me in mind of my mother so much it made me feel peaceful and lonesome, both at the same time.

Once she was safe in her room, I went back to the night table. I set down the little pistol. Then I shucked down to just my sweater, which was dry and hung low enough to keep me decent in case I had to get up quick. I pulled back the bed covers, snuffed the lamp, and climbed into bed.

The sheets were silk. They felt slick, and mighty cold at first. After a spell, though, they warmed up.

The bed was so soft it snuggled against me. Not a bit like my bunk on the True D. Light. True D. Light. It didn't bounce and rock and pitch this way and that, either. It didn't bounce and rock and pitch this way and that, either.

I hadn't felt so comfortable in ages.

Nor so safe.

Come morning, I woke on my own. I just lay there a while, nice and warm, mighty glad to be where I was and not aboard the yacht any more. But then I got to thinking about Trudy. That took the pleasure out of lazing in bed.

I climbed out, tugged the sweater down as far as it would go, and stepped over to a window. Well, the sight of all that snow took my breath away. We had snow at home, now and again, but I'd never seen so much of it. None was falling now. It must've come down all night, though, for there to be such a load. It hung all white on the branches of the trees out there, must've been a foot thick on the roofs of the sheds and such, and looked to be knee-deep where it was stacked against the brick wall at the edge of the property. What with the sky clear, all that snow glared so white in the sun that it stung my eyes.

I saw some other houses away off in the distance, and wondered if maybe Whittle'd chosen one of them. It seemed likely. Before the notion could take a good hold on me, though, I quickly reminded myself how the General kept a pistol handy. Maybe that was a common practice in these parts, and Whittle'd gone into a house fixing to do murder and gotten himself killed for his troubles. I hung on to that idea. It helped some, but not much.

I could see a sliver of the bay from my window. It was bright blue, with white-topped waves rolling toward sh.o.r.e. The yacht wasn't in sight, of course. I judged it might be seen from a different corner of the house, but it wasn't a thing I wanted to look at, anyhow.

"Good morning, Trevor."

Startled, I dragged my sweater down, stretching it toward my knees. Then I turned around.

"I hope you slept well," Sarah said, and walked straight in.

With the daylight, I saw she was even prettier than I'd thought. Her shiny black hair was pinned up, her face rosy, her eyes bright and happy. She wore a dress that looked like green velvet and had white lace around the collar and wrists.

"I...I slept quite well, thank you."

She came walking right at me. Her eyes flicked down at my bare legs. "You must be freezing."

I wasn't freezing at all. I was broiling. Sweat was trickling down my sides under the sweater.

"I brought these for you," she said. For the first time, I noticed she was carrying a robe and slippers. "They belonged to my father. They're probably too large, but they'll have to do until we can purchase a wardrobe for you."

She handed over the robe. I had to let go of the sweater. Before it unstretched too far, though, I shook open the robe and let it drape. She crouched in front of me and set the slippers down. I was mighty glad to have the robe hanging betwixt her face and me.

"Try them on," she said.

I stepped into the slippers. They felt a sight better than the cold floorboards. But they were too big, just as she'd said.

"Is your father away somewhere?" I asked.

From the look of loss that filled her eyes, I wished I hadn't asked. "He died in battle some ten years ago."

"I'm sorry."

"We have much in common, you and I. We both lost our fathers in war. Mine was killed by the Utes at Milk Creek."

"Utes? Are those Indians?"

She nodded, and stood up straight.

Well, she seemed to be living in the house with just her grandparents, so I allowed I wouldn't ask about her mother.

"Slip into the robe and come along now," she said. "I've prepared a hot bath for you downstairs."

A hot bath!

"Smashing!"

Luckily, she turned around and went for the door. I quickly plucked off the sweater. I got the robe on and tied its belt, then followed her into the hall. We went down the stairway, and she led me toward the rear of the house where I'd never been before. No sign of the General or Mable.

The kitchen was nice and warm with a fire in the stove. Off to one side, a door stood open. We went in, and there stood a tub chockful of water so hot, steam was rising off it.

"I'll go and fetch some of Papa's clothes for you," Sarah said. "They'll be too big, of course, but they'll have to do until we get you to a store."

"Thank you," I said.

I waited till she'd cleared out. She left the door open, more than likely to let heat keep coming in from the kitchen. But n.o.body was in sight, so I stripped off and climbed into the tub.

The water near scalded me. It was dandy! I hadn't taken a proper bath since the Wednesday night before I'd set out from home. Not that I'd been a stranger to water in all that time, what with a few dips in the ocean and waves splashing me and getting myself showered by squalls so often. The sea water'd always left me salty and itchy. Every drop drop of water, whether it came from the ocean or the sky, had been just frigid. of water, whether it came from the ocean or the sky, had been just frigid.

So I was mighty glad to be in a tubful of hot water, even if it was sort of boiling me.

I lay there, just enjoying it for a spell. Then I soaped myself down and ducked under to get the suds out of my hair. When I came up for a breath, here was Sarah coming in with a bundle of clothes. The water was murky enough to hide my lower parts, thank goodness.

She put down a pair of shoes, then set herself in a chair with the other things on her lap and took to chatting with me. When she asked if I had any brothers or sisters and I said no, she allowed as how that was another thing we had in common. She'd been the only child of her parents. She went on from there, and told how she'd spent most of her early years in boarding schools because her mother had died of pneumonia when Sarah was only six, and her father had been a cavalry officer always on the move from one outpost to another out west until he wound up in Colorado and got himself killed by the Utes in seventy-nine. Later, she'd lived in Syracuse and taught at a girls' school until two years ago when her grandfather, the General, retired from the army. That's when she moved in here to live with him and Mable.

She said she cooked and cleaned house and did the shopping for them. As much as she appreciated them, however, she admitted she found herself lonesome for companionship of folks nearer to her own age. That's how come she was so glad I'd turned up last night.

I could see how it might wear on a person, spending night and day with n.o.body about except a couple of codgers. Even interesting interesting codgers like the General would likely get tiresome if they were your only company, and I'd already noticed that Mable wasn't much fun at all. codgers like the General would likely get tiresome if they were your only company, and I'd already noticed that Mable wasn't much fun at all.

Still, though, it seemed a trifle excessive for Sarah to be enjoying her new friend while he sat naked in a bathtub.

She kept chatting along until my water lost most of its heat and I commenced to shiver. She finally noticed. Maybe my lips were looking blue.

She fetched me a towel, and said, "You get dressed while I start breakfast."

She went into the kitchen. I could see her through the doorway, but she wasn't paying any mind to me, so I climbed out and dried myself. I shut the door and used the toilet, then hurried into the clothes. From the size of things, her dead papa was taller and leaner than Trudy's.

Seemed like I'd never get shut of wearing dead father duds.

After rolling the sleeves and trouser legs out of my way, I joined up with Sarah in front of the stove.

It looked like she only had enough ham and eggs in the skillet for two.

"Where are Mable and the General?" I asked.

"I suppose they're sleeping. I heard Grandpa prowling about the house last night, and he probably didn't turn in until after sunrise."

"It appears I came along on a false alarm," I told her.

"Perhaps you were led here by Providence."

I gave that notion some pondering, and judged she might be right. Taken all around, I was mighty lucky to still be alive. So maybe the Lord had plans for me. Likely, He aimed for me to send Whittle packing south for h.e.l.l.

If that's what He had in mind, though, He could've done it Himself easy enough by sending the True D. Light True D. Light to the bottom of the sea. to the bottom of the sea.

I would've gone down with her, of course.

So maybe there was more to all this than met the eye.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

The Yacht and the Horse We ate a splendid meal of ham and eggs and rolls, all washed down with hot coffee. It was better than anything I'd tasted in a long time, considering we'd run out of eggs and fresh meat on the yacht after just a couple of weeks at sea. After that, we'd had only flour and potatoes that didn't come out of tins. I'd gotten a mite tired of it all.

I still had my mind on Providence, and was glad He'd sent me here for such a breakfast. I thanked Him in my head. While I was at it, I let him know I'd appreciated the bed and bath, as well, and allowed He'd done a good job sending me to these people.

When we were done eating, I helped Sarah clear things. Then we stood at the sink together, her washing while I dried. Back home, Agnes had taken care of such matters. I didn't mind helping, however, and Sarah seemed to enjoy the job.

We'd no sooner finished than the General and Mable showed up. The General, he clapped me on the shoulder. "That killer of yours must've known better and stayed clear of us," he said.

"We were quite fortunate, then," I told him.

"Fortunate." Mable huffed. "Never was was such a scoundrel, in my opinion." such a scoundrel, in my opinion."

If she wished to take a hike through the snow, I thought, I could show her a couple of bodies that might change her tune on that account. But I kept mum.

"We ought to alert the authorities," the General said, "so they can keep a lookout for him."

"Trevor and I might take care of that while we're in town. He's in sorry need of new clothes, and we want to cable his mother in England so she'll know he's safe."

"Nonsense!" Mable blurted. "Send him off. We've got no use for him."

"He's a child, dear," the General told her.

"He's all alone in this country," Sarah added, "without a soul to look after him. Except us. The Lord guided him to our door."

"Don't you go Lording Lording at me, girl." at me, girl."

"Trevor did us a fine service," the General said. "He came here to give us a warning. Besides, he seems a fine fellow to me." He gave my shoulder another slap. "Young man, you're welcome to remain under our roof for as long as it pleases you. So long as you behave yourself."

"Thank you, sir."

"I'll be switched switched if I'll have this rascal..." if I'll have this rascal..."

"And you'll treat him friendly friendly, dear, or I'll have to put you out in the snow."

Well, she sank down on a chair and glowered at me.

Sarah took to fixing breakfast for the two of them.

By and by, I escaped and went upstairs. The General's talk about notifying authorities had unsettled me some. What with a couple of bodies in the yacht and n.o.body around to blame but me, I feared I might find myself in a spot of trouble.

At the end of the hallway was a window. I peered out. Down below were the rear grounds of the house, along with the trees and gazebo and such I'd roamed through last night, and the wall. Everything was piled high with snow. The sun had gotten itself swallowed by clouds, so the snow wasn't glaring white any more, but gray and gloomy.

Off beyond the wall, the land sloped down to the sh.o.r.e of the bay. I didn't see foot tracks anywhere. I looked to where the skiff should have been, but couldn't spot it. Likely as not, the snowfall had buried it.

Then I scanned along the beach to the right and braced myself. My heart took to pounding up a storm. I didn't much want want to see the to see the True D. Light True D. Light, but that's what I'd come to the window for. I rather expected to find her crawling with local folks and constables.

The snowy beach stretched alongside the waves for about half a mile that I could see. n.o.body was there.

The yacht wasn't there, either.

I stood peering out the window, searching this way and that, puzzling over the mystery, and then I spotted a ship far out on the rough, slate-colored water.

The sight sent a cold wind blowing through my bones.

I knew she was the True D. Light. True D. Light.

It must've been low tide when I beached her.

I hadn't bothered to drop anchor or reef the mainsail.

So now she was flying along with her sail full of wind, carrying Trudy and Michael on a journey to nowhere.

I got gooseb.u.mps all over.

Quick as I could, I rushed downstairs to the warm kitchen and live people.

We left the General and Mable to their breakfast. Sarah fetched me a pair of boots and leather gloves, a heavy coat and a hat. More of her dead father's things. She got bundled up, herself. Then we went out the front door and trudged across the snow to the stable.