volunteers.”
“Instructions from whom?” I asked. “Isn’t my money as good as theirs?”
“From the management, of course, sir,” he said. “I only work here.”
And then from behind me came a vaguely familiar voice. “Put Mr. Giles in the spare room in my suite, Mr. Browning. It has nothing in it but my polo gear.”
I turned around to find Tolbert Phillips Jr., tall and gangly and tanned, dressed in natty white slacks and a polo shirt, his hair slicked back, a striped tennis sweater draped over his shoulders, as if he’d just come in off the court. He beamed affably at me, with a goofy, expectant look, as if we were the best of old friends.
“Giles, old sport!” he said. “Tolley Phillips! The Circle J Ranch, Goodnight, Texas. Remember?”
“How could I forget?” I said. “What are you doing here, Tolley?”
“Volunteering for the Apache expedition, of course,” he answered. “Another of Father’s schemes to make a man out of me. Which, as you can plainly see, is a losing cause. God, I wish you could have seen his face when he saw the portrait you took of me, Giles. It was absolutely delicious!”
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t so delicious for me, Tolley,” I said.
“I know, and I’m terribly sorry about that, really I am. Of course, I took full responsibility.”
“A lot of good that did me,” I said. “I got fired over your little prank.”
“I know you did, Giles,” Tolley said. “You took the fall for me. Isn’t that what you gangsters from Chicago say? And it was damned decent of you, too. Believe me, Father would fire me as his son if he possibly could. You know he can hardly wait for another war to break out so he can ship me off to fight for democracy. ‘That’ll make a man out of you, Tolbert!’ he likes to say. Or get me killed, which to Father would still be preferable to having a fairy for a son. Chasing wild Apaches, for God sakes! Have you ever heard of anything more absurd? But tell me, Giles, what are
you
doing here?”
“I came to apply for a job on the expedition.”
“Splendid!” Tolley said. “What a wonderful coincidence that our paths should cross again. This gives me the opportunity to repay you for the trouble I’ve caused.” He turned to the desk clerk, snapping his fingers officiously. “Put Mr. Giles on my bill, Mr. Browning. And get a bellhop down here to take his bags up to my suite.”
“Very well, sir,” Mr. Browning said.
“Where are your bags, old sport?” Tolley asked me.
“Look, I appreciate the offer, Tolley,” I said. “But you don’t owe me anything. I’ll sleep in my car. I’m used to it. Thanks anyway.”
“Nonsense!” Tolley said. “I won’t hear another word about it. I’ve got a spare room in my suite, and it’s all yours, Giles. And don’t worry, I won’t bother you, if that’s what you’re worried about. In fact, you’re not my type at all.”
“That’s good, Tolley,” I said. “Because I like girls.”
Tolley Phillips laughed his high, whinnying laugh. “Well, of course you do, Giles. I know
that.
It’s probably why I don’t find you more attractive.”
The desk clerk put a registration form down on the counter in front of me. Having been privy to enough private conversations at the club, and no slouch myself in the discretion department, I appreciated the man’s complete mastery of the poker face; not so much as an eyebrow twitched to suggest that he had heard a single word of what Tolley had just said. “Here you are, sir,” he said to me, “if you’ll just fill this out and sign at the bottom.”
“You’ve arrived at a most propitious moment, Giles,” Tolley said. “They’re having a town meeting tonight in which the mayor of this charming little burg is going to lay out the details of the Great Apache Expedition. We’ll go together. We’ll see what we can do about getting you hired on. What do you say, Mr. Browning, will they be able to find a position for my young friend
“Instructions from whom?” I asked. “Isn’t my money as good as theirs?”
“From the management, of course, sir,” he said. “I only work here.”
And then from behind me came a vaguely familiar voice. “Put Mr. Giles in the spare room in my suite, Mr. Browning. It has nothing in it but my polo gear.”
I turned around to find Tolbert Phillips Jr., tall and gangly and tanned, dressed in natty white slacks and a polo shirt, his hair slicked back, a striped tennis sweater draped over his shoulders, as if he’d just come in off the court. He beamed affably at me, with a goofy, expectant look, as if we were the best of old friends.
“Giles, old sport!” he said. “Tolley Phillips! The Circle J Ranch, Goodnight, Texas. Remember?”
“How could I forget?” I said. “What are you doing here, Tolley?”
“Volunteering for the Apache expedition, of course,” he answered. “Another of Father’s schemes to make a man out of me. Which, as you can plainly see, is a losing cause. God, I wish you could have seen his face when he saw the portrait you took of me, Giles. It was absolutely delicious!”
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t so delicious for me, Tolley,” I said.
“I know, and I’m terribly sorry about that, really I am. Of course, I took full responsibility.”
“A lot of good that did me,” I said. “I got fired over your little prank.”
“I know you did, Giles,” Tolley said. “You took the fall for me. Isn’t that what you gangsters from Chicago say? And it was damned decent of you, too. Believe me, Father would fire me as his son if he possibly could. You know he can hardly wait for another war to break out so he can ship me off to fight for democracy. ‘That’ll make a man out of you, Tolbert!’ he likes to say. Or get me killed, which to Father would still be preferable to having a fairy for a son. Chasing wild Apaches, for God sakes! Have you ever heard of anything more absurd? But tell me, Giles, what are
you
doing here?”
“I came to apply for a job on the expedition.”
“Splendid!” Tolley said. “What a wonderful coincidence that our paths should cross again. This gives me the opportunity to repay you for the trouble I’ve caused.” He turned to the desk clerk, snapping his fingers officiously. “Put Mr. Giles on my bill, Mr. Browning. And get a bellhop down here to take his bags up to my suite.”
“Very well, sir,” Mr. Browning said.
“Where are your bags, old sport?” Tolley asked me.
“Look, I appreciate the offer, Tolley,” I said. “But you don’t owe me anything. I’ll sleep in my car. I’m used to it. Thanks anyway.”
“Nonsense!” Tolley said. “I won’t hear another word about it. I’ve got a spare room in my suite, and it’s all yours, Giles. And don’t worry, I won’t bother you, if that’s what you’re worried about. In fact, you’re not my type at all.”
“That’s good, Tolley,” I said. “Because I like girls.”
Tolley Phillips laughed his high, whinnying laugh. “Well, of course you do, Giles. I know
that.
It’s probably why I don’t find you more attractive.”
The desk clerk put a registration form down on the counter in front of me. Having been privy to enough private conversations at the club, and no slouch myself in the discretion department, I appreciated the man’s complete mastery of the poker face; not so much as an eyebrow twitched to suggest that he had heard a single word of what Tolley had just said. “Here you are, sir,” he said to me, “if you’ll just fill this out and sign at the bottom.”
“You’ve arrived at a most propitious moment, Giles,” Tolley said. “They’re having a town meeting tonight in which the mayor of this charming little burg is going to lay out the details of the Great Apache Expedition. We’ll go together. We’ll see what we can do about getting you hired on. What do you say, Mr. Browning, will they be able to find a position for my young friend
Similar Books
