The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels (165 page)

“It was a foolish idea,” Quigley acknowledged. “Mrs. Lear really put me up to it—not that I’m trying to throw any blame on her. She never liked Mrs. Burmaster, and for good reasons. The Headless Horseman affair started out as a prank, and then I thought I saw a chance to influence Burmaster that way.”

“At that he might have come around if it hadn’t been for his wife.”

“Yes, she was against the town from the first. She hated everyone. Why, she believed that our only thought was to get her away from the valley just to trick her.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter now,” Penny said. “The estate’s gone and everyone with it. Somehow I can’t realize it—things happened so fast.”

“This is a horrible disaster, and it will be worse if help doesn’t get here fast,” Quigley replied. “Fortunately, the water doesn’t seem to be coming higher.”

Penny had completed a rough bandaging job on the station agent’s hand. Thanking her, he got up to test the two office telephones. Both were out of service.

Presently a message came in over the telegraph wire. It was addressed to Penny and was from her father. Quigley copied it on a pad and handed it to her.

“Thank God you are safe,” the message read. “A special circuit will be cut through to the Delta station as soon as possible. Can you give us a complete, running story of the flood?”

“What’s a running story?” Quigley asked curiously.

“I think Dad wants me to gather every fact I can,”Penny explained. “He wants a continuous story—enough material to fill a wire for several hours.”

“You’ll do it?”

“I don’t know,” Penny said doubtfully. “I’ve never handled a story as big as this—I’ve had no experience on anything so important.”

“There’s no other person to do it.”

“I want to find Louise,” Penny went on, rereading the message. “I ought to try to learn what happened to poor Mrs. Lear and the Burmasters.”

“Listen,” Quigley argued quietly. “You can’t do anything for your friends now. Don’t you see it’s your duty to get news out to the country? Your father expects it of you.”

Penny remained silent.

“Don’t you realize there’s no one else to send the news?” Quigley demanded. “You’re probably the only reporter within miles of here.”

“But I’m not really a reporter. I’ve written stories for Dad’s paper, it’s true. But not big stories such as this.”

“Red Valley needs help. The only way to get it is by arousing the public. Do I wire your father ‘yes’or ‘no’?”

“Make it ‘yes,’” Penny decided. “Tell Dad I’ll try to have something for him in an hour.”

“You’ll need longer than that,” Quigley advised. “Anyhow, it’s apt to be several hours before we get a special wire through.”

While the agent sent the message, Penny searched the office for pencil and paper.

“You won’t get far without shoes,” Quigley said over his shoulder. “What became of yours?”

“Left them over on the hillside.”

“Well, you can’t go back for them now,” Quigley replied, gazing ruefully through the window at the racing torrent which separated the station from the high hill. “Let’s see what we can find for you.”

He rummaged through the closet and came upon a pair of boots which looked nearly small enough for Penny.

“We had a boy who wore those when he worked here,” he explained. “See if they’ll do. And here’s my coat.”

“Oh, I can’t take it,” Penny protested. “You’ll need it yourself.”

“No, I’m sticking here at my post,” Quigley answered. “I’ll be warm enough.”

He insisted that Penny wear the coat. She left the station and waded toward higher ground. The coat over her drenched clothing offered only slight protection from the chill wind. With the sun dropping low, she knew that soon she would actually suffer from cold.

Penny wondered where to start in gathering vital facts for her father. The flood had followed the narrow V-shaped valley, cutting a swath of destruction above Delta, and there spreading out to the lowlands. She decided to tour the outlying section of Delta first, view the wreckage and question survivors.

“If only Salt were here!” she thought. “Dad would want pictures, but there’s no way for me to take them.”

Keeping to the hillside, Penny reached a high point of land overlooking what had been the town of Delta. Two or three streets remained as before. One of the few business places still standing was the big white stone building that housed the local telephone company. Elsewhere there was only water and scattered debris.

Penny headed up the valley, passing and meeting groups of bedraggled refugees who had taken to the hills at the first alarm. She questioned everyone. Nevertheless, definite information eluded her. How many lives had been lost? How great was the property damage? What fate had befallen Mrs. Lear and the Burmasters? No one seemed to know.

Half sick with despair, she kept on. She jotted down names and facts. Mr. Bibbs, an old man who ran a weekly newspaper at Delta, was able to help her more than anyone else. Not only did he give her a partial list of the known missing, but he recited many other facts that had escaped Penny.

“A million thanks—” she began gratefully, but he waved her into silence.

“Just get back to the railroad station and send your story,” he urged.

Penny lost all count of time as she retraced her way along the muddy hillside. Everywhere she saw suffering and destruction. Her mind was so numbed to the sight that she recorded impressions automatically.

It was long after nightfall before Penny reached the station. Every muscle protested as she dragged herself wearily to the doorstep. During her absence the flood had lowered by nearly a foot. However, the current remained swift, and she steadied herself for a moment against the building wall.

“Who’s there?” called Quigley sharply.

“Penny Parker.”

“Okay, come on in,” the agent invited. “Thought you might be a looter.”

Penny pushed open the door. The waiting room was filled with men, women and children who slumped in cold misery on the uncomfortable row of seats. Few were provided with any warm clothing.

Penny splashed through the dark, musty room to the inner office. Quigley had lighted a smoky oil lamp which revealed that he had made himself a bed on top of the telegraph desk.

“I’m turning in for the night,” he explained. “There’s nothing more we can do until morning.”

“How about my story to the
Star
?” Penny asked wearily. “Is the special wire set up yet?”

“Don’t make me laugh,” Quigley replied. “The Dispatcher’s wire went out for good over an hour ago. Too bad you killed yourself to get that story, because it will have to wait.”

“But it mustn’t wait,” Penny protested. “Dad’s counting on me. I gave my promise. How about the telephone company?”

“Their lines are all down.”

“Western Union?”

“It’s the same with them. Repair crews are on their way here but it will take time. The valley’s completely cut off from communication.”

“For how long?”

“Listen, Penny, you know as much about it as I do. The airfields are under water.”

“How about the roads?”

“Open only part of the way.”

Completely discouraged, Penny sagged into a chair by the ticket counter. She was wet through, plastered with mud, hungry, and tired enough to collapse. After all of her work and suffering, her efforts had been in vain. By morning experienced city reporters and photographers would swarm into the valley. Her scoop would be no scoop at all.

“Oh, brace up,” Quigley encouraged carelessly.

“But I’ve failed Dad. It would mean a lot to him to get an exclusive story of this disaster. I gave him my promise I’d send the facts—now I’ve failed.”

“It’s not your fault the wire couldn’t be set up,”Quigley tried to encourage her. “Here, I managed to get ahold of a blanket for you. Wrap up in it and grab some sleep. You’ll need your strength tomorrow.”

“I guess you’re right,” Penny acknowledged gloomily.

Taking off the muddy boots, she rolled herself into the warm blanket. Curling up into the chair she pillowed her head on the desk and slept the untroubled sleep of complete exhaustion.

CHAPTER 22

WANTED—A WIRE

Toward morning Penny awoke to find her limbs stiff and cramped. Murky, fetid water still flowed over the floor of the station. However, it had lowered during the night, leaving a rim of oozy mud to mark the office walls. The first ray of light streamed through the broken window.

Penny yawned and stretched her cramped feet. She felt wretched and dirty. Her clothing was stiff and caked with mud. She scraped off what she could and washed face and hands in a basin of water she found at the back end of the room.

When she returned, Joe Quigley was awake.

“My neck! My arm! My whole anatomy!” he complained, rubbing a hand over his stubbly beard. “I’m a cripple for life.”

“I feel the same way,” Penny grinned. “I’m hungry too. Anything to eat around here?”

“Not a crumb. The folks out in the waiting room broke into all the vending machines last night. There’s not so much as a piece of candy left.”

“And there’s no place in Delta where food can be bought.”

“Not that I know of. Only a few relief kitchens were set up last night. They can’t begin to take care of the mob.”

Penny peered out into the crowded waiting room. Mothers with babies in their arms had sat there all night. Some of the refugees were weeping; others accepted their lot with stoical calm. Seeing such misery, Penny forgot her own hunger and discomfort.

“Don’t you think help will come soon?” she asked Quigley.

“Hard to tell,” he replied. “It should.”

Penny went out into the waiting room but there was very little she could do to help the unfortunate sufferers. She gave one of the women her blanket.

“That was foolish of you,” Quigley told her a moment later. “You’ll likely need it yourself.”

“I’d rather go without,” Penny replied. “Anyway, I can’t bear to stay here any longer. I’m going to the telephone office.”

“Why there?”

“The building stands high and should be one of the first places to reopen,” Penny declared hopefully. “Maybe I can get a long distance call through to Dad.”

“Better leave some of your story with me,” advised Quigley. “If we get a wire before the telephone company does, I’ll try to send it for you.”

Penny scribbled a hundred word message, packing it solidly with facts. If ever it reached Riverview a
Star
rewrite man could enlarge it to at least a column.

Saying goodbye to Joe, Penny made her way toward all that remained of Delta’s business section. She had not seen Louise since the previous afternoon and was greatly worried about her.

“I know she’s safe,” she told herself. “But I must find her.”

Penny was not alone on the devastated streets. Refugees wandered aimlessly about, seeking loved ones or treasured possessions. Long lines of shivering people waited in front of a church that had been converted into a soup kitchen.

Penny joined the line. Just as a woman handed her a steaming cup of hot broth, she heard her name spoken. Turning quickly, she saw Louise running toward her from across the street.

“Penny! Penny!” her chum cried joyfully.

“Careful,” Penny cautioned, balancing the cup of soup. “This broth is as precious as gold.”

“Oh, you poor thing!” cried Louise, hugging her convulsively. “You look dreadful.”

“That’s because I’m so hungry,” Penny laughed. “Have you had anything to eat?”

“Oh, yes, I stayed at that farmhouse on the hill last night. I actually had a bed to sleep in and a good hot breakfast this morning. But I’ve been dreadfully worried about you.”

“And that goes double,” answered Penny. “Wait until I gobble this soup, and we’ll compare notes.”

She drank the broth greedily and the girls walked away from the church. Penny then told of her experiences since leaving her chum on the hillside. Louise was much relieved to learn that word had been sent to Riverview of their safety.

“But what of Mrs. Lear and the Burmasters?” she asked anxiously. “Have you heard what happened to them?”

Penny shook her head. “Joe Quigley thinks they didn’t have a chance.”

“I can’t comprehend it somehow,” Louise said with a shudder. “It just doesn’t seem possible. Why, we were guests in Mrs. Lear’s home less than twenty-four hours ago.”

“I know,” agreed Penny soberly. “I keep hoping that somehow they escaped.”

“If only we could learn the truth.”

“There’s not a chance to get through now,” Penny said slowly. “The water’s gone down a little, but not enough.”

“If we had a boat—”

“The current is still so swift we couldn’t handle it.”

“I suppose not,” Louise admitted hopelessly. “When do you suppose the Relief folks will get here?”

“They should be moving in at any time. And when they come they’ll probably be trailed by a flock of reporters and photographers.”