Спрут: Калифорнийская история
Chapter V
Beforethesalesmanhadwrappedthemup,DykeslippedadimeintothetoeofeachwithawinkatAnnixter.
“Letthelittletadfind’emthere,”hesaidbehindhishandinahoarsewhisper.“That’llbeoneonSid.”
“Wheretonow?”demandedAnnixterastheyregainedthestreet.“I’mgoingdowntothePostOfficeandthenpulloutfortheranch.Goingmyway?”
Dykehesitatedinsomeconfusion,tuggingattheendsofhisfineblondebeard.
“No,no.IguessI’llleaveyouhere.I’vegot—gototherthingstodoupthestreet.Solong.”
Thetwoseparated,andAnnixterhurriedthroughthecrowdtothePostOffice,butthemailthathadcomeinonthatmorning’strainwasunusuallyheavy.Itwasnearlyhalfanhourbeforeitwasdistributed.Naturallyenough,Annixterplacedalltheblameofthedelayupontherailroad,anddeliveredhimselfofsomepointedremarksinthemidstofthewaitingcrowd.Hewasirritatedtothelastdegreewhenhefinallyemergeduponthesidewalkagain,cramminghismailintohispockets.OnecauseofhisbadtemperwasthefactthatinthebundleofQuienSabeletterswasonetoHilmaTreeinaman’shandwriting.
“Huh!”Annixterhadgrowledtohimself,“thatpipDelaney.SeemsnowthatI’mtoactasgo-betweenfor’em.Well,maybethatfeemalegirlgetsthisletter,andthen,again,maybeshedon’t.”
Butsuddenlyhisattentionwasdiverted.DirectlyoppositethePostOffice,uponthecornerofthestreet,stoodquitethebestbusinessbuildingofwhichBonnevillecouldboast.ItwasbuiltofColusagranite,verysolid,ornate,imposing.
