The Fumbling Phantom

XIII

There were fifty people milling around the television studio. Bill let Snub steer him through the maze of cameras and reflectors so nobody would bang against the sling that held up his left arm.

Zomby saw him first. He plowed a path for Lou Ann and her father. “Ready to look pretty for the people, Bill?”

Bill said: “Hi, shugie.”

She touched the sling with her fingertips, “Hurt bad, Billyum?”

“Not now. Not any more. I’ve been looking for a nice nurse, though.”

“I’m a nice nurse,” Lou Ann said.

Walch, senior, held out a thin hand. “Unbelievable. Altogether incredible. That a man should play an entire quarter with a broken shoulder blade: And to top it off, catch a fifty-five yard pass for the touchdown that beat Stanford.”

Bill bobbed his head at Snub. “Took more than one catch to win a Coast conference. There’s the guy ought to take bows.”

Lou Ann’s father beamed. “Quite so, Cady. As a matter of fact he’s going to take more than that, on Mister Murfree’s program, here in a few minutes. He’s going to take a new five year contract!”

Murf called, “Makeup, Mister Garret. You’ll look like something they fished out of the sewer unless we doll you up.”

Walch and Snub went toward the makeup man.

Bill slid an arm around Lou Ann. “Just shows. You never can tell. I had your old man figured out all wrong. Thought he was gunning for Snub’s hide.”

She laughed. “That business about dissatisfaction among the team? That was a put-up job, Billyum.”

“Putup?” He felt foolish again.

“I’d told dad about you, and the way you felt about — well, money. He didn’t want me to have anything to do with you, naturally, — because he assumed you were just interested in his money. I tried to tell him you didn’t even know I was anything but a shop girl. He couldn’t believe that. So he was trying you out. Trying to find out if there was anything you were more interested in than the pursuit of a buck.” She grinned and wrinkled her nose at him. “He found out all right. I wish I’d been there to hear it.”

Zomby cut in. “Where were you, anyway? I tried to get you on the phone, to warn you Bill was coming over with blood in his eye. Your father said you were down on your farm. I didn’t even know you had a farm.”

“Didn’t I tell you?” She pretended surprise. “Oh, yes. I had a little money of my own saved up. I bought me a couple hundred acres of cherry orchard. Down near Banning.”

“Banning?” Bill cursed himself for that parrot business again. “You bought a farm near Banning?”

“Sure,” she grinned. “So I can learn something about fruit ranching before I get married and settle down to cherries as a business. If it is a business,” she finished doubtfully. “Some people think it’s not so hot...”

Bill pulled her close with his good arm. “Shugie,” he said, “You might not make a million at it. But on you, it’ll look swell.”