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Updated: May 3, 2025
Columbine had feared this meeting, had prepared herself for it. But all she felt when it came was annoyance at the fact that he had caught her sitting on top of the corral fence, with little regard for dignity. It did not occur to her to jump down. She merely sat straight, smoothed down her skirt, and waited. Jim led the mustang out of the corral and Lem followed.
Mary's desire to leave the car at the post-office and not go back to her shop was odd, Cora thought, though her employer had given Mary permission to go for a ride with such well-paying customers as the Kimballs and the Robinson twins. Next Cora tried to analyze Sid's actions, also those of Ida, and she even found herself wondering at Sid's seeming intimacy with Lem Gildy.
It was six o'clock, the quitting hour. Lem was always on time on such occasions. The whistle from the shops had ceased echoing, and, his dinner pail on his arm and filling his inevitable pipe, he paused for a moment. "Going to shut up shop?" he inquired with affected carelessness. "I am going home, if that's what you mean," replied Bart "as soon as my father comes."
Like all trained singers she was careful of her throat and unused, as yet, to the air of this region at night. But when she laughingly declared: "No more this time; not if I'm to sing again," there was a murmur of dissatisfaction from the group of men about the fountain; and old Captain Lem begged, in their name: "Just one more, lady, to sleep on.
He found Darry Haven chopping wood, told him of the burglary, and asked him to get down to the express office as soon as he could. "If you don't come back by nine o'clock, I will arrange to stay all day," promised Darry. Then Bart went to the house where Lem Wacker lived. It was characteristic of its proprietor ricketty, disorderly, the yard unkept and grown over with weeds.
And I see red lips ag'in' it with deadly hate." Lem glanced forbiddingly at the woman. "The bats be a comin' again," he muttered, "and there ain't no tellin' what she'll do. If it wasn't for that blasted cat, I'd chuck her in the lake!" But he dared not carry out his threat; for Scraggy was muttering to herself, the cat rebuffing her rough handling.
She looked up as if she had expected him, noted his dark face, and lowered her head again. "Black Pussy's gone, Lem. I've got a cold settin' on me here," she whispered, wheezing as she laid her hand on her chest. "I hope it'll kill ye!" grunted Lem. "What did you leave the toolhouse fer, when I told ye to stay?" "What toolhouse, Lemmy?" The dazed eyes looked up at him in surprise.
In a field bordering upon the highway, a mile away from the ranch-house, Lem Keith was plowing. There was something about this pastoral labor which was peculiarly congenial to Lem; perhaps because he did it well. Not one of the ranch "hands" could guide the plow with such precision through the loose prairie soil.
Lem Wacker flushed and winced, for the pointed question struck home. "I don't want no mistering!" he growled. "Lem's good enough for me. And I don't take no call-down from any stuck-up kid, I want you to understand that." "You'd better get to the crossing if you're making any pretense of real work," suggested Bart just then.
Then he poured Lem a cup of rich broth from the kettle, and while Lem ate waited upon him before himself joining the boys at the table. "How are you feeling, Lem?" asked Doctor Joe when everyone had finished and the boys were washing dishes. "My head's a bit soggy and I'm a bit weak, and there's a wonderful pain in my right shoulder when I moves un," said Lem.
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