The Westerners by Zane Grey

Author:Zane Grey [Grey, Zane]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781477833278
Publisher: AmazonEncore
Published: 2013-07-30T04:00:00+00:00

VI

At intervals during the night Kay awoke, and late in the morning her last restless nap was disrupted by heavy sounds in the kitchen.

Phil was knocking about out there. His footfalls had not their usual light quickness. She heard the splashing of water and blowing expulsions of breath. Presently Phil growled to himself and then went out, his steps crunching the gravel path.

Sunlight, bright and golden, streamed in Kay’s window, throwing shadows of moving leaves upon her bed. A mockingbird, the second Kay had ever heard, sang from the hedge. Kay’s oppression and the misgivings of the black night vanished like mist before the sun. A presentiment of what she knew not, vague and boding, did not hold in her consciousness.

Kay reached for her make-up box and mirror, which she had placed near at hand. Then propped up by pillows, she began a careful and elaborate preparation that must preserve her beauty and at the same time give her face and eyes the counterfeit of terrible havoc. “Not such a task at that,” she mused ruefully. “I show my troubles.” She pulled the blind down a little, to shade the sunlight somewhat, and composed herself to wait for Phil. And now that the hour was at hand—what would she say to Phil? Dare she go through with such a monstrous deceit? The injustice, the devilishness of her plan, the creed of noblesse oblige—all these shook her but did not change her. A stronger instinct, not wholly clear at the moment, held her tinglingly to her purpose.

Presently Phil’s step, quick now, grated on the walk, and Kay sat up with her heart pounding in her breast.

He entered through the kitchen and came into the living room, where he halted with a sudden hard breath, like a gasp. What construction had he put upon the disarray of Kay’s belongings, of the disorder of the room? Kay’s courage almost failed her. But it was too late now. When Phil stamped to her bedroom door and knocked, she did not have the voice to answer. He tried the door, to find it locked. He knocked louder and called fearfully: “Kay!”

“Oh . . . who’s . . . there?” she replied weakly.

“Who’n hell would it be?” he said impatiently. “Open this door.”

“What for?”

“I want to see you.”

“You think you do . . . but you don’t, Phil Cameron.”

This occasioned a long silence, dining which, no doubt, poor Phil’s fears were confounding him.

“Kay . . . damn it! I must see you.”

“Promise not . . . to . . . to touch me.”

“Yes, I promise,” he replied harshly.

Kay slid out of bed and, unlocking her door, quickly ran back again.

Phil did not move for a moment. Then with violence he turned the knob and swept the door wide. As if the threshold had been an insurmountable wall, he halted there, stricken by his first sight of her.

“Aw . . . Kay!” he cried huskily, as if imagined fears had become realities.

Kay gazed back at him with

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