was getting ready to barbecue the breed out of existence?
To hear that bunch over at Crowfield talk you might think I
was. I’ve had over forty telegrams today howling threats
and bloody murder. That’s that fellow Bennett; he’s sicked
his members on me.”
“Their viewpoint, of course, is valid to them.”
“Sure, and mine is to me. —Hey, you want a drink there,
Mr. Goodwin. How about you. Miss Rowan? Oh, Bert! Bert!”
When Greasy-face appeared I let him proceed with his
function, which I must admit he performed promptly and
well. Three highballs were a notch above my ordinary indulgence,
but after the blowout and smashup, and the pasture
exercise, I felt a little extra would be not amiss. A little fed
up with the champion bull, I moved to a chair closer to the
champion niece and began to murmur at her. She graciously
took it, and after a little I observed the blonde slanting one
at me from the comer of her eye, so I tossed her a grin between
murmurs. I could have expanded easily, but my prospect
was not in fact at all rosy, since what I had to do before
twilight was get Wolfe and the luggage and plants to Crowfield,
outride him into a hotel and a room thereof, unpack,
find forage he would swallow without gagging, discuss the
matter of my inability to restrain the car from crashing into
a tree and get it settled once and for all, and probably sit
for a couple of hours and listen to him sigh. I was preparing
to remark to the niece that it was after five o’clock and if
she was going to drive us to Crowfield we had better get
started, when I heard a climax being reached by my employer.
Pratt was inviting him to stay for dinner and he was
accepting. I scowled at him, hoping vindictively that the food
would be terrible, for it would only complicate matters and
make him almost too much for one man to handle if we got
to our destination long after dark. He saw me scowling and
let his lids cover half his eyes, and I pretended he wasn’t
there and concentrated on the niece again. I had decided
she was all right, wholesome and quite intelligent, but she
looked too darned strong. I mean a girl is a girl and an
athlete is an athlete, though of course there are borderline
cases.
In reply to an invitation from Caroline I was explaining
that I would love to take her on at tennis if I hadn’t twisted
my wrist negotiating the fence, which was a lie, when the
second attacking party arrived. Its personnel, as it suddenly
made an appearance at the end of the terrace, left it uncertain
at first whether it was another attack or not. In front
was an extremely presentable number, I would say 22 or 3,
wearing a belted linen thing and no hat, with yellowish
brown eyes and warm trembly lips and such a chin. Behind
her was a tall slender guy, not much younger than me,
in brown slacks and pull-over, and backing him up was an
individual who should not have been there, since the proper
environment for that type is bounded by 42nd and 96th
Streets on the south and north, and Lexington Avenue and
Broadway on the east and west. In their habitat they don’t
look bad, in fact they help a lot in maintaining the tone, but
out in the country like that, still wearing a Crawnley town
suit including vest and a custom-made shirt and a Monteith
tie, they jar.
The atmosphere they created was immediate and full of
sparks. Our host’s mouth fell open. Jimmy stood up with
his face red. Caroline exclaimed something. Lily Rowan
twisted her neck to see and showed a crease in her brow.
The girl got as far as the table which was littered with empty
glasses, let her yellowish brown eyes go around, and said:
“We should have telephoned. Shouldn’t we?”
That met denial. Greetings crossed one another through
the atmosphere. It appeared that the bird in the Crawnley
suit was a stranger to the Pratts, since he had to be introduced
as Mr. Bronson. Wolfe and I had our names called, and
learned that the girl was Nancy Osgood and the tall slender
guy was her brother Clyde. Once more the clarion was
sounded for poor Bert, whereupon there seemed to be an
increase in the general embarrassment. Miss Osgood protested
that they didn’t want to intrude, they really couldn’t
stay, they had been to the fair and had only stopped in on
their way home, on an impulse. Clyde Osgood, who had a
pair of binoculars dangling on a strap around his neck, gazed
down at Pratt in a fairly provocative manner and addressed
him:
“We just got chased away from your pasture by Monte
McMillan. We were only taking a look at your bull.”
Pratt nodded sort of unconcerned, but I could see his
temples were tight. “That darned bull’s causing a lot of
trouble.” He glanced at the sister, and back at the brother
again. “It’s nice of you children to drop in like this. Unex-
pected pleasure. I saw your father over at Crowfield today.”
“Yeah. He saw you too.” All at once Clyde stopped talk-
ing, and began to turn, slow but sure, as if something had
gripped him and was wheeling him on a pivot. He took four
steps and was confronting the canvas swing, looking down
straight at Lily Rowan.
“How are you?” he demanded.
“I’m fine.” She held her head tilted back to see him.
“Just fine. You all right?”
“Yeah, I’m great. ”
“Good.” Lily yawned.
That simple exchange seemed to have an effect on Jimmy
Pratt, for he took on added color, though as near as I could
tell his eyes were aimed at Nancy Osgood, who was passing
a remark to Caroline. Caroline was insisting that they stay
for a drink. Mr. Bronson, looking a little weary, as if the day
at the fair had been too much for him, had sat down. Clyde
abruptly turned away from the swing, crossed back over,
and got onto the edge of the chair next to Pratt’s.
“Look here,” he said.
“Well, my boy?”
“We stopped in to see you, my sister and I.”
“I think that was a good idea. Now that I’ve built this
place here … we’re neighbors again, aren’t we.”
Clyde frowned. He looked to me like a spoiled kid, with
a mouth that didn’t quite go shut, and moving as if he ex-
pected things to get out of his way. He said, “Neighbors? I
suppose so. Technically, anyhow. I wanted to speak to you
about that bull. I know why you’re doing it … I guess every-
one around here does. You’re doing it just to be offensive to
my father — you keep out of this, Nancy, I’m handling this—”
His sister had a hand on his shoulder. “But Clyde, that’s
no way—”
“Let me alone.” He shook her off and went after Pratt
again. “You think you can get his goat by sneering at him,
by butchering a bull that could top any of his in show competition.
I’ll hand it to you for one thing, you picked a good
one. Hickory Caesar Grindon is a hard bull to put down.
I say that not only on account of his record, but because I
know cattle … or I used to. I wanted my father to buy
Caesar – in 1931, when he was only a promising junior. And
you think you’re going to butcher him?”
“That’s my intention. But where you got the idea that
I’m doing it deliberately to offend your father — nonsense.
I’m doing it as an advertisement for my business.”
“You are like hell. I know all about it … from the beginning.
It’s just another of your cheap efforts to make my
father look cheap—you keep out of this, Sis!”
“You’re wrong, my boy.” Pratt sounded tolerant. “I don’t
do anything cheap … I can afford not to. Let me tell you
something. I understand the best bull your father’s got is
getting pretty old. Well, if your father came to me and
asked for that bull I bought, I’d be strongly inclined to let
him have him as a gift. I certainly would.”
“No doubt! A gift!” Clyde was nearly overcome with
scorn. “Now I’ll tell you. There was a lot of talk over at
Crowfield today. Of course, as a member of the Guernsey
League, my father was in on it. He was sure that the plan
Bennett arranged with Cullen and McMillan wouldn’t
work … he said he knew you since you were a boy and
you wouldn’t turn loose. My sister Nancy got the idea of
coming here to try to persuade you, and I agreed to come