The Enchanted Hill by Peter B. Kyne

Author:Peter B. Kyne [Kyne, Peter B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: western
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 1924-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XVI

Gail Ormsby did not sleep after her embarrassing and unexpected encounter with her host that night. Fright, sorrow, anger, humiliation and horror struggled for mastery in her soul; at eight o’clock next morning she rose, sleepless and pink-lidded of eye—for she had not ceased to weep the night through—packed her trunk and bags and then decided that to partake of a cup of coffee and a piece of toast could not materially add to the humiliation she already felt at having been made the victim of the Purdy hospitality. Conchita waited upon her in the dining-room and Gail noticed that the table was set for one.

“The Señorita Pur-dee all time have breakfast in the bed,” Conchita explained, “and thees mornin’ the Señor Pur-dee don’t feel good, so the Señor too have breakfast in the bed.”

Gail favored her informant with a wan smile. “The pig!” she cried under her breath. “He’s ill from the vile liquor he drank in Arguello last night.”

After breakfast she decided that a tip to Conchita would be in order; for a moment she thought of leaving a twenty-dollar bill in a note to Purdy as payment for her board and lodging for two days, but finally decided that this would be a bit gauche—a deliberately impolite act. At least, she thought, his hospitality had been genuine enough and, regardless of his morals, there could be no doubt of one thing—Hallie was a lady. For the little invalid’s sake she must depart from this house with a smile, a hearty expression of appreciation of a hospitality that had become unbearable, a hand-shake for this feudal cattle baron, Purdy. She hoped the auto truck Ira Todd had promised to send for her would not long delay its arrival.

Once back in her room she sought her purse. She could not find it. Frightened, she searched everywhere, even going so far as to unpack her trunk and bags. But the purse was certainly not in that room and when Gail could still the mounting panic that had seized her she remembered she had carried it in her hand when, the night previous, she had strolled up the path toward the hangar. Undoubtedly she had dropped it where she had crouched at the foot of the oak tree.

In a moment she was out the patio gate and hurrying along the path. But the purse was not to be found, although she searched for it carefully.

“Perhaps one of the men found it,” was the thought that gave her comfort now, for that lost purse had contained every dollar she had in the world—that being the reason, in fact, why she had carried it with her rather than leave it in her room. She returned to the hacienda, repacked her baggage and indulged herself in a few more tears as the enormity of her predicament dawned upon her. She would have to ask Purdy to inquire among the men at the bunk-house for the lost purse, when her host chose to emerge from his chamber.

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