The Bismarck tribune. [volume] (Bismarck, N.D.) 1916-current, 1933-11-23
LOVE-
BIZ HAZEL LIVINGSTON

April day and promised, '.1n Al
ways love you Bill-and III never
be sorry-ever-" She had said
that. She meant it. Things had hap
pened, things had come between
them, but they weren't real, he
would sweep them al away now. ;. !.
His heart sang. The warm wind
touched him like . bcnediction. The
pines By the roadside were spark
ling and clean after the rains. Their
new pale green shoots stood straight
up, tall candles on giant Christmas
trees, waiting to be lit. Waiting . .
everything quiet -. expectant .
waiting. -.
Joan !. where would he find her !
He stepped on the gas again j.
speed have to take Z chance !.
Oh, what . fool he was, not even
asking where he would find her. i. /.
At the Casa del Rey in Santa Cruz
he asked = clerk 1t the desk. "The
Barstow cottage? Never heard Of
it. You probably mean one Of the
places out in the country"
He took out his handkerchief and
wiped his face. Little beads Of pers-
piration had gathered on his fore
head and upper lip. What . fool,
what . fool Ruth must have
known, and he hadn't asked her.
Getting late too.
He turned the pages Of the San
Francisco telephone directory. The
mans mother, he'd get it out Of
her. -.
"Mrs Barstow isn't it." . wom-
ans voice answered. us there
any message?
AIt is about the Santa Cruz cot
tage," he said quickly. "Just where
i it-near what place :"
There was . moments silence, he
thought he heard her hanging up
Its . matter Of life or DEATH" he
shouted, "Tell me where it is
quick"
n don't know just where, l only
been there once. It is shingles, al
by itself like. From FELTON, we got
the mail hello? What's wrong?
Operator-you cut me of"
Bill had left the phone booth.
where do I hit the FELTON, road !?
I'll have to double back-I see,
thanks thanks very much
He Was in the car again, speeding
up the curving mountain road. The
sun set. The first rain drops pat
tered on the windshield. The road
was deserted. If there weEe cot
tAges in the wooded hills they were
silent and dark. He ploughed on in
the dark and the rain, more slowly
now. looking for lights.
For the first time his courage
failed. He must have lost the road,
there was nothing ahead but . mar
row, wavering trail. And trees.
And dark.
Joan jumped ont Of the car a.
most before Curtis stopped It. "lIl
run ahead, while you park It. OF
course they'll know Why we're late
when they see the poppies!" She
stopped and looked down at the
glowing mass Of them IN her arms
"But we can't leave them in the car
to wither, poor dears. Here-you
take 'em, Curtis-and then they'll
scold yoMw She laid them on the
seat beside him and ran up the rocky
path to the cabin, laughing.
When he followed . moment later
with the suitcases she was at the
end Of the long verandah trying to
peek in . window.
"Why, Curtis, they aren't here
yet! All the blinds are down, and
dirt and pine needles al over the
verandah. You don't think anything
happened 20 them.
"0h no." be said easily. ~old
lady Cunningham kept them wait
ing : couple Of hours I suppose.
They'll Be along. Good thing !
brought . key though
He fitted the key IN the door, aud
threw Il open. The musty dampness
Of the long closed house came ont
10 them from the open door. It was
cold inside, their footsteps echoed
dismally on the bare, dusty door Of
the shrouded living room.
eOh, Say" Curtis stopped In
voluntarily Just inside the door.
|ssThis II = SD looking placel I
didn't know they shut It up like
He looked . helpless and ag-
erieved that Joan burst ont laugh
ing. Haven't you ever soen rugs
rolled up, and sheets on the 9urni.
ture before? / believe you haven't,
your mother usually sends someone
ahead 70 open the house. doesn't