Seed on the Wind

“This is painful,” Pete grimaced. “I loathe bargaining. You’ll pay my price. But I don’t see how I can furnish satisfactory assurance short of cutting off my head. You wouldn’t take my word for it? No. We’re in a fix. It looks as if you’re going to pay fifty thousand dollars for practically nothing.”

“Ten thousand and the assurance. That’s up to you.”

“I tell you I detest this!” Pete exploded. He got to his feet and stamped on the floor to shake his trouser legs down. “By god, I may have my faults, but I’m damned if I’ll haggle. You know perfectly well you’ll come to it. You wanted to consult Lora; all right, you’ve consulted her, let’s get out of here. I can invent an assurance, and you can make up your mind to the amputation, on the way back.”

Lora no longer heard them. It seemed to her petty and utterly inconsequential. The money was strictly Lewis’s affair, she considered; after all, the danger was chiefly his; for herself and the children she could manage no matter what happened. The men’s voices went on. She sat almost without consciousness. Her mind was not stunned, it was smothered rather, under a blanket of feeling which left it dull and dead and overwhelmed. Pete was in it, and her father who had killed himself, and this house in her name out of which she might be driven if Lewis forced Pete to make good his threat, and Roy and Panther and Morris and Julian who would be driven with her...

Their voices annoyed her. Why didn’t they go? Why had they come here to do their wrangling? But no, that was as it should be, that she should learn about her father like this from Pete. There were things she wanted to ask him; how could she manage it? There was something else too, something was happening to her...

At length the two men reached their impasse, and were silent. Lora became aware that Lewis was speaking to her; Pete, he said, would go back by train, he had no desire for his company on the ride to town. Whereupon Pete shrugged his shoulders and went to the vestibule for his coat, and Lora saw that Lewis meant to stay behind. She was aroused then to speak. She could not talk now, she said, not tonight, if he didn’t mind she would rather be alone. Not tonight. He might as well drive Pete to the railroad station.

Pete stuck his head in from the hall:

“Don’t bother, I’d rather walk. I hate the damn train, but I prefer it to listening to a stuck pig squeal. I’ll phone you tomorrow to arrange an appointment. You may have forty-eight hours to get the cash. Goodnight, Lora.”

The outer door banged behind him. Lewis went to the hall and returned in a moment with his coat on and his hat in his hand.

“I should have come alone,” he said. “But it seemed to be better — to tell the truth, from one or two things he said I thought it might help for him to see you. He’s right, of course, I shall probably have to pay up — I’ll sleep on it. I’ve got an idea — well, we’ll see. I wish I knew more about him.” He paused, and then went on, “About your father, that was unfortunate. I’m terribly sorry. I don’t make an exhibit of my feelings, but I feel very badly about it. If there’s anything I can do, anything you’d like to have me find out — a will, for instance, or anything of that sort—”

She shook her head. “Thank you, Lewis. A will? No.”

“You knew he was dead of course?”

“No. I didn’t know anything.”

“You don’t suppose this man had anything to do with it?”

“What? Oh. Pete? No, he didn’t.” She got up and stood straight, facing him. “If you don’t mind, Lewis, this is the one thing in the world I’d rather not talk about.”

“Yes. Of course.” He hesitated. “I just thought if it would help any... well, I’m sorry.” He went to the door, and there turned again: “Don’t worry about this business, I’ll attend to it. He’ll have to be gagged somehow. It will be all right.”

“I’m sure it will,” said Lora.