The GIRL in the TRAILER

Bay of Plenty Times, Volume LXVII, Issue 12800, 22 July 1939, Page 3

The GIRL in the TRAILER

I by SYLVIA \ CARSON

CHAPTER XI (Continued) jerry listened !.o Blake in amazement. The man’s vanity was so c o io«sal that he simply refused to credit any of the things • that had happened. Though on his knees, with a swelling jaw and an eye rapldly turning black, after a despicable effort to knife an opponent who was fighting him fairly, yet he had the supreme effrontery to show no vestige of shame. It was then Jerry realized that Ulake Feaster wasn’t actually normal, that he had an egotistic complex which made him a dangerous opponent because he simply could not recognise defeat. He turned from Blake to the reporters and said quietly; "I wish to retract my former statement. You can quote me as saying that I make no definite claim to the Crandon estate as yet, hut that I hope to produce proof that I am the rightful heir. At any rate, I am determined to see justice done, and I shall do everything In my power to prevent fine estate from falling into the wr/ong hands, even though I may not tyG able to legally prove my own ■claim.” This, they all realized, was a direct challenge to Blake, who had gotten to his feet and stood listening with a scowl. “What about Miss Weatherford?” asked Nat, scribbling hastily. ‘‘Do you care to make any statement concerning your—er —plans for the future? Matrimonial ,or * otherwise?” he ended hastily. “Nothing to say on that score,’’ Jerry told him good-naturedly. “I have.” Mercedes stepped away from him and faced Blake scornfully. “Our relationship is of pursuer and pursued,” she announced, “I’m doing the pursuing, and I’m doing quite well at it, thank you. I can’t say that we have any plans for the future —but I have intentions. Very definite intentions —and strictly honourable,” she added with a little bow,.as Blake whirled about, his face dark with anger. Suddenly he leaped Into the saddle and galloped furiously away. “Now you’ve done it," said Jerry resignedly,, as the reporters hurried 'to their cars in a mad Scramble to get back to the city and print a„ sensational account of the events they had just witnessed, Mercedes caught his .arm and pulled him toward the trailer. "Your coffee will probably be cold again,” she scolded. Then, blandly, ‘‘What have I done?”

"Everything you shouldn’t. Making that last crazy statement to the reporters. Don’t you realize they’ll print it?" "That’s what I want them to do. At least you ought to recognise it as a sporting gesture. After we’re married you’ll never be able to say you weren’t warned of my intentions beforehand.’’ • She pushed: Jerry into the trailer, and for qnce he had no reply, CHAPTER XII "As a trailer cook,’’ Jerry told Mercedes gravely, a few minutes after the newspapermen had gone, you do not get any salvo of applause. "The- bacon is soggy and the coffee is bitter, if there had been an eg,g | u the larder and if you had friend I venture that it would have been cooked hard on both sides with gobs of cold grease adhering to the disconsolate yolk.” What ; can you expect of bacon, and coffee that have been warmed °' er three times?’’ Mercedes responded with spirit. “And I don’t 111111 e SS:s. I fry them sunny side up.” Jerry remained stern. “Let me a ®k you one question. Whose fault 13 it that the bacon and coffee were 1 cheated three times to their pres®tit lamentable state?" •v “ Those If they hadn’t interrupted us " Jerry folded a slice of . rea f °vor a strip of bacon and punched on jt, “Once more—who nought the reporters? What was le idea of tipping them off anyway?” Sitting on a padded stool on the 0 her side of the pull-out table, Mercedes leaned forward with flushed c leeks. “Because I was afraid you’d Cdu away without trying to claim the ** ate ' B y giving the story to the a Pers, I knew I’d force your hand make you fi Sht. And so I did, jy you d id," she ended triumphantJerry gazed at his bPuised QUckles. “What do .you think Blake

Feaster meant about knowing where to find the real heir?” "Blake was just saying that to hear himself talk. I’ll never look at him again. The idea of trying to stick you with a knife!” "An exceedingly uncultured But it’s going to surprise me if he doesn’t pop up with a Crandon to dispute my claim.” "What proof could he get?”

Jerry shrugged his shoulders. "Thus far, none of us is overburdened with proof,” he reminded her. "A dishonest man might forge proofs which an honest claimant would be unable to dispute.” "That reminds me,” Mercedes said eagerly. “You were just remembering something when Blake rode up and upset everything. Don’t you know—when the reporter asked you if you didn’t have anything from your childhood?” Jerry nodded. "I remember.” "What is it? You’re the most provoking man I ever met.” Jerry got up and went to the back of the trailer, knelt down and drew a small metal locker from beneath the folding bunk. "Don’t hope for too much,” he warned Mercedes over his shoulder as he fitted a key-in the lock. ‘T just remembered a little packet in here. I think there’s a picture or something. I haven’t looked at it for years, and I’m not quite certain ” His voice trailed off as he pawed through the trunk. Squatting on the floor behind him, Mercedes thought to herself that this was certainly the most wonderfully exciting thing that had ever happened to her% It was like being one of the characters in a mystery book. • Jerry had changed toward her, she thought happily. He seemed to have given up his idea 1 of sending her away. Instead, he was- beginning to treat her like a partner. Of course, he hadn’t proposed yet. That would come later. She would have to gain his confidence first-—little, by little. Let him learn to depend on her. That, she thought with the quaint knowingness of seventeen, was the prelude to love. Then Jerry sank back on his heels with a small cloth-wrapped packet in his hands. Mercedes excitedly leaned over his shoulder, her eyes shining with curiosity. "I have a faint recollection of looking at this years ago,” Jerry told her, as he untied the string. "I’ve had it as long as I can remember.” He laid the string aside and opened the cloth wrapping, Mercedes leaned forward with a little cry and grabbed up a tiny baby bootee, knitted from fine white wool thread and tied vat the top with a bow of baby blue ribbon. “Isn’t it adorable?" she cried. "Jerry, it must have been what your mother,was knitting when it,happened—while your father was down in the valley and she was waiting for him to come home. Remember the radio broadcast last night? That’s why they saved it so carefully—because of the tragic memory woven into it.”

“Perhaps,” said Jerry dryly,- “but it’s darned poor proof. Lots of other babies have had knitted bootees, I imagine. I don’t think a court will turn over an estate on that evidence. But,” he went on slowly, “here’s an old picture.” Mercedes' caught up the faded photograph with a choked cry of: “Is this you, Jerry? It doesn’t look much like you.” Together, they soberly studied the ! picture of a small baby in a ruffled dress sitting on the knee of a man who didn’t need label to be reas a Proud Parent. “Your father, I bet,” Mercedes j guessed in a small, awed voice. I “Gerald Oandon. Isn’t he a grand- ' looking man, Jerry? There’s a .remarkable resemblance between you and him. Can’t you just see him riding down into the valley and killing that Buck Lathrop who tried to ambush him?” Jerry shook his head. “I’m not much good at making up stories’, to go with pictures. He looks much like any other man to me. But I suppose there will be people in Ashton who will remember, Gerald Crandon —and* whp can identify this photograph-—if it is he.” “Of course,” said Mercedes triumphantly. “That, will be Exhibit No. 1. Guard it with your life.” “That’s all there is,” mused Jerry. “One bootee and a faded photograph leading back into the past. How old do you suppose I was when that picture was taken?” “About two, I guess. Your hair

was dark even at that age. But look, Jerry, it looks 'like a streak of paint right down the middle of your hair. Maybe some flour or powder , got on it.” .

“No,” Jerry laughed. ' “K’s a white streak of hair. I still have it, but I keep it dyed because it looks so darned funny. If you look close at the roots you can see .where it’s grown out white since the last dyeing.”

Mercedes put her hancls on his shoulders and turned him around to look earnestly at the place he had indicated. Her face, was very close to Jerry’s and her breath was sweet and hot on his forehead and she nodded. Then she looked down into his eyes and it happened. Their lips were pressed together and Mercedes’ arms were strained tight about his neck. (To be Continued)