| OCR Text |
Show I Xlte- . ... -Ti--T- ii -.,-f r gM ViHTiCSM SLOW AND CAREFUL rf 8 B y P By JOHN SCOTT DOUGLAS j f i winks on the sofa and push along about 11." "Oh, Bill," Emmy said anxiously, "do you have to work so hard? You haven't an ounce ol flesh!" "No money'd keep me driving this way," I admitted. "Now that the war's over and we got to help feed the world, we need bigger fruit crops. weak chin would hurt my swollen hands much. I decided not to try it. "Lauson," I said, "I'm putting some hives out under the trees here. If you ain't afraid of bees, I want you to give me a hand." When I oame inside later to wash up, Emmy was just putting the last steaming dishes on the table. Well, supper didn't go as well tjiat night. Emmy treated me as she always does, but Launson sulked as bees do on a rainy day-when day-when they can't gather pollen. But the spring pollinating is almost over and soon I can take it easier." "Not here, I hope," Launson said unpleasantly, when Emmy went into the bedroom to get her hat. I knew then how bees feel when you shake their hive on a cold day but I was too tired to argue. I was asleep before they drove away and the alarm-clock awakened me before be-fore they returned. It was nearly a month before I could get back. When I drove past the old Hall place, it looked like. Launson hadn't given his horses much care. He stepped out of the house after I'd stopped the truck, and spoke as if he owned Oakknoll. "You back?" "Yep," I said. "Just in time for supper." "I didn't know Emily was expecting expect-ing you," he snapped. I wondered whether Launson's "Where's Mr. Launson?" She asked. "Last I saw of him," I said, tucking tuck-ing in my napkin, "he was running toward his house with a veil of bees trailing behind him. He dropped a hive he was carrying and instead of backing away slow and careful like, he began swatting bees. They kind of resented it." Emmy didn't say anything for a minute. "I'm glad he's gone," she said, and smiled. "I'd have told him things before, but I get so lonely when you're away, Bill. What made him drop the hive? "I guess something I said startled him. You see, he'd just advised me to move on, saying I'd never get anywhere any-where with you, Emmy." "The idea! What'd you say to that. Bill?" "Why, I told him he was crazy that we'd been married 10 years." trOU can't make fast moves when handling bees, so a beeman earns to be slow and careful no mat-ler mat-ler what happens. I remembered hat the day I stopped by Oakknoll ranch and found a stranger sitting In the farmhouse kitchen and watching watch-ing Emmy prepare a fat fryer. Now I've been in love with Emmy since she was 16. The 10 years that have passed since then have changed her so little that if I were buzzing around looking for something sweet, I'd still pick Emmy. The western sun slanting through the window made a halo of her fair hair and her face was flushed from 'the hot stove. She waved a floury hand as she popped a drumstick into the put-. put-. tering grease. "Hello, Bill," she said. "I want you to meet Fuller Launson. He's bought the Hall place and is raising horses. Where'd you come from?" "Sierra foothills," I answered, "I'm taking my bees down to Red-lands Red-lands to pollinate the Farland orchard." or-chard." "Bill has a pollinating service," Emmy explained. "Arsenic sprays kill so many bees that orchardists pay him to bring his hives, so the trees will, bear fruit." "I see," Launson said, the wisp of a black mustache over his thin lips barely moving. I couldn't make up my mind whether he was one of those robber-bees that steal honey from another an-other hive or whether he was a drone that lets the workers support sup-port him. Be had black eyes and a waspish face. And there was contempt con-tempt in the way he looked at my swollen hands that mighty near put me in a stinging mood. I can't bother with gloves when I'm handling hand-ling beehives all the time. ' I asked about his horses while Emmy Em-my cooked supper, but he seemed to resent my dropping in and wouldn't say much. However, he admitted that his old man had plenty of money and thought that since Fuller Launson Laun-son wasn't much good in his business, busi-ness, he might as well try to raise horses. Now Emmy has a heart as big as a six-super hive and she's always feeling feel-ing sorry for queer characters. She never talks much about herself, but she's a good listener. Still I couldn't figure what she saw in Launson, except ex-cept that he had a college- degree and she respects education. I could have told Launson other things about her. She's been lonely since her folks died, however, so if she found him good company, that was all right with me. A beeman learns not to disturb the queen unless he has to. After supper I had to leave to get hives set up in the fields of the Red-lands Red-lands orchard before sun-up. Launson Laun-son showed no signs of swarming, so I guessed he planned to visit a while longer with Emmy. But a beeman doesn't jump to conclusions. As 1 say, he learns to be slow and careful. care-ful. It was two weeks before I got back to Oakknoll again. Launson sat in the same chair, as if he hadn't moved in all that time. He didn't seem real friendly, and acted bored when I asked about his horses. Well, supper didn't go so well that . night. Emmy treated me as she always al-ways does, but Launson sulked as bees do on a rainy day when they can't gather pollen. After supper, Launson said, "there's a good movie in town. Like to go, Emily?" She started shaking her head, but I spoke up. "You go right along. I've been driving nights and working days until I'm too wore out to be fit company for anyone. I'll just catch a few |
