Heed the Thunder Read Online Free PDF Page B

market shrewdly—on paper—for several years and had accumulated a neat profit.
    “Maybe next year,” he said again.
    “Just as you say,” his clerk nodded. “We don’t want to take any chances.”
    He completed the short business pertinent to the closing hour, told Barkley good-night, and departed. He was a badly disappointed man. The money which Barkley had mentioned paying for his services was only a pittance, much less than he had often blown in a single night. But, at that, it was more than he made in three months; and he had counted on the trip. He had been wanting to see a doctor, but, more than that, he had simply wanted to get away for a while. The town, combined with his meager standard of living, was beginning to cramp him like a clothespress.
    He stood in front of the bank for a moment, trying to dull the edge of his disappointment. After all, he smiled sadly, what had he lost? A trip of little more than a hundred miles, a few days in a hotel, a chance to see a decent show, a couple of hundred dollars.…
    A couple of hundred dollars…a couple of hundred dollars.…
    He laughed a sudden short ugly laugh, then immediately composed himself. Two hundred dollars, indeed!…The smile returned to his placid well-bred face. Barkley would come around. He’d be ready to deal next year, or, if not, the year after that. He never gave up an idea once he got it into his thick, square head. And he, Courtland, could wait. He could wait five years if necessary. It would be worth it.
    Sherman Fargo was just hoisting himself into the buggy at the side of Mrs. Dillon, and Courtland paused on the curb in front of them. Although he had only known his sister-in-law since her return that summer, he already liked her better than any of the other Fargoes. She had character and strength, and he was a great admirer of those qualities. At the same time, she tried to maintain those many little niceties of etiquette which to him made life worth living.
    “How do you do, Edie?” he said, extending his smile to include Sherman. “You’re looking very well.”
    “Thank you, Alf. You’re holding up very well yourself,” Mrs. Dillon returned.
    It made no difference that they had seen each other less than thirty minutes before. The opportunities for intercourse were so rare that one took advantage of them when he could.
    “I understand you’re teaching school this winter.”
    “Yes. Yes, I am, thank you.”
    “Will you be keeping Bobbie with you?”
    “I’m afraid—I don’t think the district would allow me to do that. Not without paying his board, of course, and…”
    “That’s too bad,” said Courtland warmly. “He’s such a charming little chap, too.”
    Sherman laughed shortly, and the bank clerk looked at him in surprise. He did not believe, just as he was sure that Edie Dillon did not, that Bobbie was a charming little chap. But it did no harm to say so, and it certainly made things more pleasant.
    Mrs. Dillon turned to her brother. “He is a good boy, Sherm. I know he makes Ma awfully nervous, but after all he’s just a baby.”
    “Well,” said Sherman, spitting over the wheel. Kids to him were neither good nor bad. They were just kids. You fed them and clothed them and sent them to school, and you saw that they had plenty of chores to keep them out of mischief. If they got out of line, you tanned their hides with a bit of harness. They had no identity until they were big enough to demand it. At which time (thought Sherm), they left home and forgot all you’d done for ’em.
    Sherman was never sure just what his feelings were toward Alfred Courtland. He was a banker, which was one black mark against him. He was a foreigner, which was another. On the other hand, he was not just another out-of-town dude like his brother, Grant. He worked hard; and his mannerisms, foreign as they might be, were natural to him. There was nothing put on about him. Sherman had his ways, and he supposed other people had to have