The She Boss: A Western Story Read online

  CHAPTER V

  A RIVAL

  The restaurant was all but deserted at the late breakfast hour whenHiram Hooker and Mr. Tweet entered. Hiram timidly wished that themen's side were filled, so that he would be obliged to eat on theladies' side again. A waiter was beckoning them to the men's side,however, and Hiram meekly led the way, though casting a quick,expectant glance down the long row of tables beyond the screen.

  Waitresses were dallying about, but he did not see the girl with thecords of fluffy hair. He was halfway through breakfast before itoccurred to him that, as she was at work at eleven the night before, hescarce could expect her at nine in the morning. He was glad she wasnot there to tantalize him, and at the same time deeply disappointed.

  Hiram's new acquaintance changed perceptibly as the food began to warmhim. Mildly loquacious before, he now became voluble.

  "I wanta tell you this," he remarked finally, "you're in luck to strikeme when I'm crippled for cash. A week from now, perhaps, you'd nevermet me at all. And if you had, there'd 'a' been nothin' to connect us.But right now I'm up against it and forced to sleep in atwenty-five-cent lodgin' house. Therefore we met and found out each ofus had somethin' the other wanted. You're lucky, Hooker--that's allthere is to it. You'd 'a' drifted about for years and never got thechance to hook up with Twitter-or-Tweet. And here you are, right fromthe backwoods, makin' yourself solid the first crack outa the box withthe original money-getter. Stay by me till I get a toehold, and I'llmake you."

  Hiram was at a loss how to take him. He had not agreed to tide himover, had not even made up his mind that Tweet was not a rank faker;yet Tweet seemed to be taking it for granted that his case was won, andthat they were to go from the breakfast table to Morgan & Stroud's toenter the road to competence.

  As if answering his thoughts, Tweet said:

  "I'm a mystery to you, ain't I? I don't use very good grammar, but Italk sense. I'm talkin' about makin' piles o' money, and I'm gettin'my breakfast off o' you, ain't I? If I really was the heavy hitter I'madvertisin' myself to be I wouldn't condescend to take you on, would I?That's what you been thinkin', ain't it?

  "Take those hobos up in the lodgin' house, for instance. Curiosity'seatin' their hearts out in regard to me. They know I ain't a tramp,yet they see me float smoothly along among 'em and never strike adiscord. I don't seem to mix with 'em, neither do I seem to keep alooffrom 'em. I'm there and I ain't there--see? If they only knew it,I've tramped miles to their feet. Yet I never was a regular tramp.

  "On the other hand, when I'm hob-nobbin' with the upper class I keepthem guessin'. I talk kinda crude, yet what I say seems to be worthlistenin' to. I go into a flash hotel or cafe and never stumble overanything, or knock the carafe off the table, or order corned-beef hashwhen the menu card looks like an advanced lesson in _parlez vous_.They take me to the circus to amuse me, and I come back at 'em withgrand opera.

  "So that's the way it goes, and you'll savvy more about it when you seemore o' me. At present I'm goin' to take you away from Frisco and, ifsomethin' turns up, give you a start. I'm doin't this principallybecause I need your little roll to tide me over till I get a workin'stake. I'm frank about it. But I may learn to like you. You appearto be sorta bright."

  Tweet pushed back his chair. "Now we'll go down to Morgan & Stroud'sand get out where we c'n go to work and do somethin', and have a chanceto look about and think."

  Protestations died on Hiram's lips, and he dutifully rose and followed.

  There was a cigar case on the cashier's counter, and Tweet leaned overit, looking down at the contents, while Hiram laid his check beside thecash register and fumbled for his pocketbook. He produced a dollar andlaid it on the check, then looked about for some one to receive them.The space behind the counter was empty, but from a little inclosedportion of the window came the slow, labored clicking of typewriterkeys.

  "Tap the dollar on the show case," suggested Tweet.

  Hiram tapped the glass.

  Instantly, in the window room, the clicking keys were hushed. Hiramheard the squeak of a swivel chair. He heard the swish and caught thegleam of a white skirt. The next moment she was standing before him.

  His breathing checked itself, and his knees began that sickeningtattoo. He was instantly so miserable that he longed to die. Yet hefaced her big eyes, brown and good-natured and smiling withrecognition, and dumbly pushed the check and the dollar across thecounter.

  "Why, hello!" she said lightly.

  "Hello," came a quavering echo.

  The drawer of the cash register shot out with a metallic clang.Hiram's dollar jingled in among its kind. The girl's slim fingers weresuspending a quarter to be dropped into his palm, suggesting to Hiram'sabnormal mind the fear of contamination. He feebly put out his hand,and she dropped the coin.

  "Thank you," she acknowledged in a light, professional tone, raisingher voice on the "you."

  She was turning away, when Tweet looked up from the cigars.

  "Since when, Lucy?" came his rollicking voice. She turned back,smiling. "Oh, since just this morning," she replied. "The boss firedthe cashier just before I went off watch last night. He said he wasgoing to call up the employment agency and get another the first thingthis morning.

  "'What's the matter with giving some one here a chance?' I says.'That's the way with you fellows,' I says. 'A girl can work herfingers off for you for years, then when the chance comes for somethingbetter, why, you telephone an employment agency and give it to aperfect stranger. You give me a pain!' I says.

  "'But you ain't a cashier--you're a waitress,' he says.

  "'I'm not speaking about myself in particular,' I says. 'I'm speakingabout all of us who are working for you. Then,' I says, 'how do youknow I can't make change? When there's an opening for better pay andeasier work,' I says, 'why don't you come to us and see if any of usthink we can hold it down? You know us and can trust us, and insteadof giving us a look-in, you go and hire an outsider.'"

  "Good stuff!" commented Tweet. "And he fell for it, did he?"

  She flipped out her palms in a little gesture. "I'm here, ain't I?Waited table from seven to three last night, and came behind thecounter here at five-thirty this morning. The boss'll relieve me attwelve o'clock. Guess I'll sleep some to-night!"

  "Fine business! Makin' good, eh?"

  "I'm not fired yet, am I?" Her white teeth flashed.

  "But c'n you keep the books?"

  She sniffed. "I certainly can. I haven't been a waitress all my life.These books are nothing."

  Here the gigantic Hiram caught his lower lip sagging and resolutelylifted it to dignity.

  "Well, I like your style," Tweet was telling her. "Tell 'em about it,every time--that's the way to get a toehold. But you're not much of astenog, Lucy--was that you peckin' away in there?"

  A shade of pink swept her face.

  "I used to operate a machine a little with one finger of each hand,"she explained, "but I'm all out of practice. I don't have to use atypewriter on this job though. It's an old one the boss took for abill."

  "Just practicin' up again, eh?"

  "Ye-yes," she hesitated. Again her skin grew faintly pink.

  "Good business! Go to it! Every little bit helps. Well,congratulations, Lucy. So long! C'm on, Hiram."

  "Thanks." Lucy laughed, and went into her little room.

  Hiram sighed boyishly, upset the toothpick holder at his elbow, andfled in Mr. Tweet's wake.

  "Pretty nifty little kid," Tweet remarked, as Hiram joined him.

  "You know her--wh-what's her name?"

  Tweet turned and looked at Hiram's red face in mild surprise.

  "Wh-what's wrong with you?" he queried.

  "Nothin'"--sheepishly.

  "Well, I'll be dog-goned if I don't believe you're gun shy on thefemale question!" was Tweet's conviction. "These frisky Frisco pulletsgoin' to your head, Hooker. A little paint and a little powder and afrowsy topknot seems to sorta tou
ched some new funny bone in you, eh?Heavens, I remember how I fell for it years ago!"

  Hiram closed his lips tight. He hated Tweet.

  Tweet slapped him on the back and laughed.

  "Forget it, Hiram," he advised familiarly. "It ain't like me to roastanybody when I see it hurts. Why, le's see now--I don't know the kid'sname. I've heard the men call her Lucy--that's all. I been eatin'there right along--that is, up till yesterday mornin'. She seems to bepopular with the fellas. Not a bad little kid, though, I take it. Gotsome savvy, at any rate. Ain't content with her lowly lot--and that'smy kind. Oughtn't to make customers have to call her away from thattypewriter, though--I don't like that. Well," he switched abruptly,"what you been thinkin' about our little deal?"

  "Nothing," Hiram retorted resentfully.

  They had been slowly walking down the street. Tweet stopped short andlooked at him.

  "That means what? That you don't care to consider it further?"

  It had meant just that when Hiram said it. There was now in Tweet'squestion a tone of finality. Hiram felt that his reply would end thematter. Swiftly his mind grasped for a judicious rejoinder and settledon "No." He could not bring himself to part with this semblance offriendship just yet.

  "All right, then," Tweet returned. "You're just not throughconsiderin', eh? Well, I'll tell you: We'll break away and give you achance to think. There's a man down California Street I wanta seebefore I leave and I'll stroll down that way. You think it over, andmeet me at eleven-thirty up in that disfiguration old Squinty calls aloungin' room. So long."

  He turned abruptly and strode away.

  Hiram watched his erect figure and firm step till the crowd hid him,then followed more slowly in the same direction. His feet werecarrying him toward the restaurant, and he was guiltily permittingthem. He saw a shining drab automobile drawn up at the curb before therestaurant door. He walked slower and slower as he neared the door,paused, and looked within.

  Lucy was leaning on the counter negligently collecting scatteredtoothpicks, and conversing laughingly with a carefully dressedmiddle-aged man with a handsome face and curly brown hair. His hairand Lucy's fluffy topknot were almost touching. Hiram saw him graspplayfully at Lucy's hand, saw her jerk it away with a flirtatious laugh.

  Then Hiram bolted, half blind with pain.