Kankakee Valley Post, Volume 10, Number 47, DeMotte, Jasper County, 10 October 1940 — TRAILER GIRL [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

TRAILER GIRL

© Ledger

By VERA BROWN

WNU Service

THE STORY THUS FAR

Lynn Morrow, beautiful blonde New York flrl, is stranded in Palm Beach in her jathing suit with only 50 cents when her »mployer, Mrs. Helen Warren, disappears with car and trailer from a camp where she. Buddy, her son, and Lynn had been living. A note from Mrs. Warren advises Lynn to call at her New York attorney’s office for her clothes and wages. She is rescued by Terry McNair, whom she met at the beach. She goes to his home, where ne has a maid provide her with some of his sisters evening clothes. They then go to a beach club. His sister appears and a quarrel ensues. Lynn accepts the help of a stranger to escape. He takes her to his home where he identifies himself as Raymond (Wild) Austin. He accuses her of trying to blackmail him. Greatly incensed, Lynn flees. Stopping at a coffee shop, she meets a young artist, Rene Bouchier. who is returning to New York by trailer and offers to take her there. They enjoy roughing it along the road. She finds Rene to be a decent sort of a fellow. Lynn tells Rene her story. He knows McNair and Austin as moneyed playboys. The car breaks down. They are forced to stay at the Lovell farmhouse during repairs, the Lovells believing them newlyweds. The Lovells discover they are not married and insist a marriage take place. There being no way out. Lynn and Rene agree. They decide their marriage is to be one in name only, with a divorce to follow'. The wedding takes place.

CHAPTER Vlll—Continued —6—

Rene went out to settle up with the garage man and Mrs. Lovell began bustling about. “Now, my dear, since you’re not staying for dinner, I’ve got some things together for you to take along. There’s pie and plenty of fresh eggs and take along some of this canned fruit, and there’s homemade bread.” Mrs. Lovell carried the food down to the trailer, while Rene hitched on the rejuvenated automobile. They said their good-bys, and with deep relief the newlyweds started on up the road north. Hardly were they on to the road when Rene grabbed her hand, took off the wedding*ring and threw it out into the ditch. “Damn them!” He pounded the wheel of the car with his fists. “How could they be such fools!” He kept his eyes straight ahead. “They should have known by looking at you, you’re not that kind of person!” Lynn felt sorry for Rene, for she knew he blamed himself for their difficult position. “You’re a swell kid, Lynn. If I have to steal the money, I’ll see you get a divorce. There isn’t anybody you want to marry now, is there? It may take a little time for me to get the cash together.” “No, there isn’t anybody, Rene.” It was while they were eating their “wedding dinner” that they talked, for the last time in many a day. about the forced marriage. “I haven’t an idea of one word that old parson said, Lynn,” Rene said suddenly, his mouth full of Mrs. Lovell’s homemade bread. “But I’m making a vow to you right now.” He held up his right hand: “Never will I tell anybody about this whole silly thing! It’s between you and me. If you find a chap you want to marry, step out and marry him. He’ll never know from me that you and I were virtually stood up at the point of a gun and married!” “I promise the same to you Rene.” “It might break some boy’s heart if he fell in love with you and then learned about all this. How’d you make anybody understand? We do, but nobody else could!” “I don’t suppose so. I’m a little vague about it myself,” and they went off into gales of laughter. “If I’d only had sense enough to say that you were my brother!” Rene laughed. “Yes, we look so much alike!” They were moving north rapidly and both of them found they were suffering from the sudden cold after weeks of warm sunshine. They dug up all the clothes which the trailer offered and wore most of them, but, even so, they found it cold. “Well, we’ve got a little cash left, enough for ground rent for the trailer. I’m going to stay in a new camp at the edge of the Bronx for the time being.” Rene explained his whole financial difficulties. “I figure if I have rent paid, I can go and try to peddle some of my pictures. There’s a lot of food aboard, thanks to the Lovells. Although that’s all we have to thank them for. “You’ll sell your things, I know!” Lynn said positively. “They’re fine.” “Wish I had your optimism. But, at least, there’ll be a roof over my head—and yours, too—until you get on your feet, if you need it.” “Thanks, Rene. You’re kind. I’ll see Mr. Mortimer the first thing. Then when I get clothes, I’ll go job hunting.” “You’ve got a place to live as long as I have one,” Rene answered. As they came closer to New York both of them were excited and thrilled. It was “home.” That night they decided to drive on after dark. They were only 100 miles from New York. “We’ll push on. I want to get this over with!” Rene said. “There’s no use our both freezing. You go back and lie dowti. I’ll drive through if I can. Then we can pull ourselves together and start going places.” It must have been w r ell on toward midnight when he could see the glare of the sky over Manhattan. Joy filled his heart. This w*as his town, his Life! Deep in his heart he knew he had real talent. If he could ever click. Maybe then he could do something for the sleeping girl inside the trailer.

She should marry some nice guy who’d be kind to her r give her a fine home. It was while Rene so dreamed along that a late comer, hurrying into the city, pushed Rene off on to the icy shoulder of the road. Rene acted quickly. There was a squeak of brakes, a clatter of dishes and away they went. The other driver was far dowfi the road. He did not stop. The rear end of the trailer was in the ditch and the car at right angles across the road. Rene, swearing softly, struggled out of the car and rushed back to the trailer to rescue Lynn. He found her in a pile of blankets, dishes and loose oranges, struggling to sit up and rubbing a bump on her head. “Oh! Oh!” Lynn was a bit dazed. “What happened?” “I don’t know. But we’re in the ditch. Are you all right?” “I guess so. I bumped my head.” “Thank the Lord it’s no w r orse!” Rene tried to see whether any damage had been done to the trailer, but the deep snow hid the rear wheels. Then he heard Lynn call out to him: “Rene! Rene!” CHAPTER VIII Rene put his head into the trailer door. “All right, Lynn? There’s a car coming. I’m going to see if I can get help.” A truck came along, and the driver got out. Together the two men looked over the situation. Finally the truck driv-

er got out a chain from his tool box, hooked it on to the front of Rene’s car. There was much pulling and struggling. Finally, with a big plunge, up came the trailer on to the road. It was not until then that he stopped and went back to see how Lynn fared in the trailer. He found her sitting on the couch, rubbing her ankle. “I think I hurt it,” she said, sticking out her ankle. It was already puffed up to twice its size. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Rene demanded in dismay. “I didn’t realize I’d hurt it until I tried to stand on it,” she said apologetically. She also had a big lump on her forehead. As they came nearer New York, he stopped at a drug store, bought some two-inch bandage and took it back to Lynn. Rene, chilled to the bone, his trousers wet with snow to his knees, set his jaws grimly and drove on. It was a sadly bedragged couple who limped into the almost deserted tourist camp up in the Bronx about 2 o’clock that morning. Rene unhooked the car and took it over to a nearby garage, for he Was afraid the car would freeze in the bitter cold. Lynn managed to get a fire built in the little stove, and the trailer was cozy and warm. But the ankle was painful, and there was no more sleep for her that night. It must have been 9 o’clock Rene finally roused. When he opened his eyes his head felt heavy and his throat sore. He; was burning up. But he called to Lynn: “How’s your ankle?” “It’s pretty sore. But I can hobble around here.” “Then find me some aspirin.” “Are you sick?” she asked in terror. “I’ve got a terrible cold.” It was not a cold, but a severe attack of influenza that Rene had. The next week was difficult for Lynn. She, herself, could hardly walk, but she had to care for Rene somehow. The second day he was delirious and she tried to arrange to get him into the city hospital, but the wards were full and they refused him admittance. The man who operated the tra.lei camp was kind, and his wife helped Lynn all she could. They ran errands, and together they managed. “This is homecoming,” Lynn thought bitterly as she sat beside Rene the first day he was delirious. Their money was running danger-

ously low, but Lynn was quite unable to go to Mr. Mortimer’s office. Lynn hunted through Rene’s pockets and found all the money she could. He had paid the rent for a month on that first day before he got so ill, but they had only $lO left. There were medicines to buy. Mr Arthur, the manager of the camp, had got his family doctor for Rene. Lynn paid him for his two visits and the money disappeared. On the sixth day Rene was rriuen better. Lynn was still hardly able to walk, but they had only 50 cents left. “I’ll go downtown tomorrow. * I’ll have to,” she said as she gave Rene an accounting of how she r d spent the last $lO. “I’ve got a surprise for you, Lynn. Go get my belt.” Lynn brought it to him. “See this?” he said as he opened up a little pocket on the under side. There were two $1 bills. He tossed them to Lynn. “You’ve been a brick. Don’t try to go until you feel equal to it. Or better yet, take a taxi.” Lynn was horrified at such wild extravagance. “You could drive my car down but you’d have to pay the garage rent to get it out.” 1 The next day Lynn was able to get down to a drug store and she telephoned Mr. Mortimer’s office. His secretary made an appointment for the next day. Lynn came home and began to check over the clothes available. Mrs. Lovell had given her a dark gingham dress, and she decided to wear that, one of Rene’s heavy sweaters and a blue beret.

“I look like a ragamuffin,” she said as she dressed behind the gingham screen. “You’d look all right in anything,” Rene assured her. “I’ve got to hurry and get well so I can get down to some of the magazines and peddle some of this stuff.” Rene was still very weak and sick. The doctor spoke to Lynn about it. “You should take your brother back down South,” he told her. To go back to Florida was impossible, Lynn told the doctor. If that was the case, he w’arned, Rene must be very careful for a long time. “He should stay in bed for another two weeks,” was the ultimatum. “If I can get that money and my we won’t have to worry,” Lynn said as she put the finishing touches on her scant costume. The whole place smelled of shoe blacking, for Lynn had tried to black the white sandals she wore in Wild Austin’s Palm Beach house, what seemed to her, ages ago. “They look pretty bad,” she. said in a discouraged voice as she brought them for Rene to see. “I don’t care how they look,” Rene remarked, eyeing her handiwork, “but I hope you don’t get pneumonia. There’s nothing to the things.” When Lynn was finally dressed, she pulled aside the gingham curtain. “How do I look?” she demanded. “Fine,” said Rene, but his throat contracted as he saw her in the toolarge blue sweater, the thin Summer dress and the makeshift shoes. “Well, anyway, I’m respectable. Now for Mr. Mortimer.” “Be sure and take the bus over from the subway at Thirty-fourth Street.' Don’t try and walk in those so-called shoes and buy yourself some when you get the money.” There was a long wait for a bus at Thirty-fourth Street, but soon she was being shot up to the fortieth floor of tlie Empire State Building. When she came into the'reception room of Mr. Mortimer’s big office, she was almost overcome at its grandeur. A gorgeously dressed woman in silver foxes was sitting there. Lynn asked for Mr. Mortimer and gave her name to the pretty girl receptionist. She was ushered into a high ceilinged office with many windows, and deep chairs. A man sat at a mahogany desk. i “Here is Miss Morrow, Mr. Mortimer.” “How do you do?” Mr. Mortimer held out his hand, took in Lynn’s shabby, inadequate clothing. His conscience smote him, but there was nothing else he could do. “Sit dow r n, Miss Morrow. My secretary will bring your suit case. I’m sorry I had to put you to all this inconvenience, but at the time you wired I was not sure Mrs. Warren owed you any money. I had not had her letter.” Lynn nodded. None of this seemed strange to her. “Where are you living?” he asked. “In a trailer up at a Bronx tourist camp.” “Will you remain in town?” Mr. Mortimer handed her a check. Lynn did not look at it at first. “I am giving you this on one condition—that you keep me informed where you live. Mrs. Warren liked you and wants to get in touch with you when she comes back North.” “Yes, but I hope to get something besides housework to do.” Mortimer’s face remained unchanging. “Maybe I can help you to get a job.” He was frankly surprised at the girl’s apparent beauty, and he had sudden misgivings Was everything as it seemed? Then suddenly Lynn gasped. She looked at the check. It was for S2OO (TO BE conn MED)

Suddenly Lynn gasped. The check was for $200.