Love on the Line - Deeanne Gist [115]
“I ain’t no dummy.” He dropped his hands, his chest puffing out.
Good heavens, Georgie thought. Did all males inherit a predisposition to that stance? “Bettina, do not call names. Apologize to Eugene.”
The girl jiggled her leg. “Sorry.”
“Listen, Miss Georgie.” Belle turned to her, blue eyes wide, blond curls swinging. “She’s calling for Prince Albert.”
The female cardinal’s soft voice floated over the yard.
“So she is.”
The group quieted.
“What’s she want?” Eugene whispered, his interest captured.
She peered over their heads. “A little snack, I suppose. Or maybe just some company. Try to imagine how you’d feel if you had to sit in one spot for ten days in a row.”
A fate worse than death for a lively group such as this.
“How much longer does she have to sit there?” This from Fritz Ottfried.
Georgie had told no one, other than Luke, of her exchange with the milliner. But two days later, Fritz had attended their Junior Audubon meeting and every one since. They’d been having them more frequently because the children were as excited as she about the cardinals.
She wondered if Mr. Ottfried knew she’d have paid much, much more for Fritz’s attendance. “Only a couple more days. Three at the most.”
“Then they’ll hatch?”
“Then they’ll hatch.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Duane kicked a rock, sending it skittering down the alley. “If that Necker don’t be careful, he’s gonna be so henpecked he’ll molt twice a year.”
The boy had been sulking all night, and Luke could hardly blame him. His position as best friend had been usurped by a woman. As soon as Luke bid Georgie good night each evening, he’d sought out Duane and Necker. And once Necker had assured himself of Luke’s availability, the recently wed man often bowed out.
Luke hadn’t minded at all. Necker’s idea of fun was of a more sordid nature. Duane, however, had yet to fully develop a taste for the unsavory. His pranks were suited to those of a mischievous youth. He was also less guarded than Necker and easier to extract information from.
“‘Lulie don’t like ta be left alone,’” Duane imitated in a singsong voice. “‘Lulie ain’t feelin’ well tonight. Lulie saw a mouse and gots the shivery creeps.’” His lip curled in disgust. “The shivery creeps. I’d like to show her the shivery creeps.” He pulled up short.
Luke scanned the alley front and back to see what had startled the boy, but saw nothing. “What?”
Duane’s eyes were wide. A slow smile began to form.
A sigh of resignation escaped before Luke could stop it. He’d seen that look before.
“I got an i-deer.” Duane took off at a fast clip. “Faller me.”
They wound their way through town, avoiding the main thoroughfares, finally ending up at the feed store. Striking a match on his back pocket, Duane opened the door to the storage area and quickly lit a lantern. “’Member those traps we set?”
Nodding, Luke closed the door behind him.
“Well, they worked real good. And Pa told me I had ta get rid of the mice ’fore they get loose and I have to catch ’em all over again.”
They skirted around a large feed cutter and past several sacks of grain. The squeaks and distress calls of mice filled the hemmed-in room, backed by the stench of their droppings.
Duane handed him the lantern. “Hold this.” Bending over, he caught hold of a large cage and lifted it from behind a stack of feed troughs.
Four or five dozen mice screeched and crawled over each other like waves cresting and dipping in an ocean.
“Ain’t that somethin’?” Duane tilted the cage, sending the lot of them sliding to one side. “I had no i-deer we had so many of these fellers back here.”
“That’s a mighty big catch, all right.”
Duane bent his face close to the cage and clicked his tongue. “It’s okay, fellers. It’s just me.” He tapped his fingernail against the bars. “Pa tol’ me to drown ’em last week, but I just can’t bring myself to do it again. You have any idea how long it takes to drown a mouse?”
Luke pursed his lips. “Can’t say I do.”
Duane looked over his shoulder. “A looooong time.”
What was this boy doing