Norton, Andre - Novel 32 (16 page)

"Even a card case!"
Mrs.
Wildhorse
had
picked up a tiny
mother-of-pearl case and
opened it to show wee cards packed inside.
"Everything!
I don't think there has ever
been
so completely equipped a fashion
doll seen be
fore in this day and age. She is
truly a museum
piece."

"Just so, dear lady."

They turned, startled. There was a man in the doorway. He
was short and his coat was
off, hanging over one arm, while with his other
hand he mopped his round red face.
His thin,
turtle-necked
shirt had damp spots on the
shoulders, and big black sunglasses hid his
eyes.

"Simmons, I'm Arthur Simmons, ma'am." He gave a
little nod of his head. "Probably
never heard of me, but I've been hearing a lot
about you—and this find. Just pure
luck my
passing through
when the news broke. I'm an
NBC man—"

"You mean the TV network?"

"That's right. Local man told me about
this—" He glanced around the
big room.
"Heard you were restoring a stage station.
Quite famous once, wasn't it? So
this is the
doll—"
He marched up to Lady Maude's table,
still wiping his face, now and then running the
handkerchief over
the top of his bald head for
good
measure. "Now will you look at
that!
Pretty near everything a lady of her day would
need. Who was she being sent to—do you
know?"

"Miss Maude Woodbridge of
Woburnscott
,
Maine
," Christie told him.

"Poor Miss Woodbridge," Mr. Simmons
said. He sounded, Christie
thought, a little sur
prised,
as if he were really sorry that Lady
Maude had never reached her destination. "But
I wonder how and why this lady
was in
Hong
Kong
. Too bad she can't tell us, isn't
it? However, she's a
natural,
she certainly is—along
with all the rest. I'll call Stan
tonight—"

"A natural for what, Mr.
Simmons?"
Mrs.
Wildhorse
wanted to know.

"For our See America
program, Mrs. Kim-
ball.
Strange and unusual bits of
American lore
brought
to the screen—"

"I'm not Mrs. Kimball. And I think you had
better get the
Kimballs
' permission before you
plan anything. Mrs. Kimball is not
feeling too
well and
is resting. Mr. Kimball may be up at
the cave with some of the local authorities—"

"Certainly we'd clear everything with the
Kimballs
, Mrs.—Mrs.—"

"
Wildhorse
."

Christie saw Mr. Simmons give a little start.
"Mrs.
Wildhorse
—but
then you're
Marina
,
aren't you? I thought I recognized this little
girl," he
nodded at Libby. "This
is
my lucky
day! That is, if you, ma'am, are willing to co
operate, too. Your paintings have aroused a
great deal of attention and you are one of the
persons I came here to contact for the pro
gram."

"Another 'strange and
unusual piece of
American
lore,' Mr. Simmons?"

"About the most American lore to be found
nowadays," he returned. "But only with your
complete cooperation, of
course."

"I'll think about it. You look very hot, Mr.
Simmons. Would you like a cool
drink?"

"Now that is about the kindest suggestion
I've had made to me in some time. If you could
spare me a seat, too—"

Christie went to get some of the lemonade
they made with the cold spring
water. When
she
came back Mr. Simmons was sitting on one
of the hard-bottomed chairs, looking around intently. He
had taken off his sunglasses and
was surveying the walls of the room one by
one, as if he wanted to remember
just where every nail was placed in them.

"This is certainly going to be a natural—"

His murmur was interrupted by a pounding
at the screen door. Christie, who
was nearest, opened it and found herself facing a very tall,
thin man with a narrow face that had deep lines
about the mouth and nose. He looked at her
sharply.

"You one of the Kimball kids?"

"I'm Christie Kimball." Then she knew who
he was, though she had seen him
only once
when he
was getting into his station wagon.
"You're Mr. Toner."

"I'm Toner. What in
thunderation
is going
on here
anyway? Had to park way back on the
road—" He broke off his own sentence to de
mand harshly, "Where's your
dad, kid? I've
got a
paper for him, a very important paper."

"He may be up at the cave with Sheriff Wy
lie."

"So Jim Wylie's here?
Well, that's all the better. He
can see what your dad will have to
do. That the doll Marlene's been talking about?"
He shoved past Christie to
examine Lady
Maude
and her belongings. "Looks old—must
be worth
somethng
. You can pack
her up—I'll
just take
her and the rest of her gear along with
me—"

"I don't think so." Mrs.
Wildhorse
moved
in to stand
between Lady Maude and Mr.
Toner. "Sheriff Wylie has temporary custody
of all the things discovered in
the cave. The
Kimballs
officially turned them over to him this
morning."

"Found on my land, weren't they? I'll settle
it with Jim—"

"Before you touch anything," answered
Mrs.
Wildhorse
,
"you will check with the sher
iff. You will find him and Mr. Kimball at the
cave if you wish to
discuss this matter with
them."

"Don't need any discussion. Matter of law—
Kimball's out, I'm in. Wylie's
going to explain
it
to him if he doesn't understand it already. I'll
be back for the doll. Marlene's taken a fancy
to it. Kimball ought to be glad
I'm not suing
him for what his kid did to
my girl. He's getting
off easy!"

Mr. Toner swung around and stamped out, slamming the
screen door behind him.

"Pleasant gentleman, that." Mr. Simmons
broke the following silence. "Do you mind tell
ing me what that was all about?
Just
curiosity on my part, of course.
If it's too personal, you
needn't answer."

"Mr. Toner has been trying to get title to this
land for some time," Mrs.
Wildhorse
ex
plained. "The water rights are quite valuable.
Now it turns out there may have
been some
flaw in the title when the
Kimballs
took it over.
The
case is very complicated, since it involves
both the old state franchise and an Indian
treaty. His daughter followed the children to
the cave and saw the doll. Since then Mr.
Toner's effort to take possession have speeded
up."

"He doesn't sound like a very good neigh
bor—"

Mrs.
Wildhorse
made no
comment.
 
"He
wants the land
badly. A never-failing spring in
this
country is rare."

"Interesting.
Thanks for the drink. I guess
I'll go up and have a look at the
cave, too."
Mr.
Simmons put on his sunglasses and his coat and left. Christie was hardly aware
he had gone.
She was
too busy thinking about what Mr.
Toner had said. Could he just take Lady Maude
and make them move right now, as
he threatened?

Slowly she turned once more to stare at the
doll. It was almost as if Lady
Maude
were
un
lucky—they had had nothing but trouble ever
since they found her. Christie
began to wish
she had
never seen her at all.

"Shall we pack up her things?" she asked
Libby's mother. "Maybe the
sheriff will say
that
Mr. Toner can take her—"

"I think it would be well to pack her away
now that the pictures have been
taken," Mrs.
Wildhorse
agreed. "But I do not believe Mr.
Toner will take her—not
today,
and perhaps
never. If they cannot find anyone who owns
her now, she might even belong to
the state of
Arizona
.
Which means she will be put in a
mu
seum, where everyone can enjoy seeing her.
"

Christie and Libby went to wash their hands.
Then, with the greatest of care,
they began re
turning
all the
wardrobe to the proper trunks
and boxes. Each of those in turn
was settled
into the
metal box in proper order. Lady
Maude, once more thoroughly wrapped, was
put in last. Mrs.
Wildhorse
examined the ad
dress painted on the
lid.

"Miss Maude Woodbridge,
Woburnscott
,
Maine
.
But, Christie, how did you know
that
she was sent
from
Hong
Kong
—there
is nothing
here to
say that?"

"There was a letter about her—inside,"
Libby answered first, and Christie
was sorry
she had not warned the Navajo
girl not to men
tion that. "It said that
her father could not get
home for
her birthday and he was sending Lady
Maude
east with the mate from his ship."

"Where is the letter now?"

Both of them looked to Christie. She would
have to tell—no keeping her secret
now. Any
way,
perhaps the letter would come back.

"I—I mailed it—to the address. Dad said
they would try to find the families of the people
to whom the letters in the bag were written. So
I wrote a letter, too, and put it with the letter
from the box. I sent it to the family of Miss
Maude Woodbridge in
Maine
. I did not want
Marlene to have her—not if there
was maybe
a
Woodbridge
girl who could claim her. She
would
belong to her, wouldn't she?" Christie
appealed to Mrs.
Wildhorse
.

"I would certainly think so, with the old let
ter to prove it. But, Christie, it would have been
better to let the post office officials trace the
letter."

"Marlene said she was going to take her.
Maybe she could if it took a long
time to trace
people."
Christie felt very uncomfortable.
Probably Mrs.
Wildhorse
was
right, but some
how
she was still glad that she had sent that
letter.

*'Well, it's done now—and perhaps you will
be lucky." Mrs.
Wildhorse
went to the cup
board and started checking over the few sup
plies still there. "Suppose
you help me now to
finish
making out your mother's grocery list.
If you will write down what I tell you—"

Christie was relieved nothing more was said
about her letter. She gladly took
up the tablet and the pencil. "Mother has some things here already—sugar,
beans, bacon, peanut butter,
jam, bread—"