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BOOK: Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers]
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“That’s true.” Johnny pushed himself away from the counter where he’d been leaning. “Guess we’ll have to take one day at a time and see what happens.”
Johnny had not concerned himself with the politics in Rawlings . . . up to now. He came to town a couple of times a month, and that was that. As far as he knew, it was a pretty peaceful town. The doctor ruled it with an iron hand in a soft glove. His friendship with Paul had opened his eyes to that. Adelaide, Paul, Claude, and the Wilsons were his only friends in town. He added Mrs. Ramsey as an afterthought. Other folks in town knew who he was because of the rodeo.
“Better get along, cowboy. It’s six-thirty. Addie will shut the door and turn off the light soon.”
“Yeah, I guess I better.”
“A little advice, son. Don’t pick your nose at the table,” Paul murmured as Johnny passed him.
“You know what you can do with your advice,
Daddy,
” Johnny growled, and Paul laughed.
• • •
Kathleen had been surprised to see Johnny in the back room. He had bought a new shirt. His dark skin against the white made him look incredibly handsome. She was still puzzled by the invitation. It was logical to assume that he intended to leave town as soon as he loaded his groceries. What had changed his mind?
Adelaide was busy typing when Johnny came from the back room. She looked up and nodded.
“Ready?” he asked Kathleen.
“I guess so.” She got up from her desk. “See you in the morning, Adelaide.”
“Have a good time.”
Johnny opened the door, and Kathleen went out ahead of him. On the sidewalk, she paused, not knowing which way to go. He gripped her elbow and they started walking. It was almost dark. The time between sunset and nighttime was short this time of year.
“Let’s try the Frontier Cafe? Have you been there?”
“I haven’t been anywhere except to Claude’s. We could go there for a hamburger. It’s fast.”
“Are you trying to get this
ordeal
over with?”
“I was just trying to be helpful,” she said testily, thinking again of their encounter in the store. “I’m sure you’re anxious to get home with your groceries.”
“I left them at the store. I’ll get them in the morning.”
Johnny held tightly to her elbow as they stepped down off the curb and crossed the intersection. She had to admit that they walked well together, their steps matching. It was comforting to have him beside her. Her eyes darted back and forth; she half expected to see Webb and Krome lurking in the shadows.
They covered the three blocks to the café in almost complete silence. Its neon sign in the shape of a wagon wheel glowed in the twilight. Inside Johnny steered her to a high-backed booth, hung his hat on the hook on the end, and eased his long length onto the bench opposite her. Rather than look at him, Kathleen studied the box on the wall and read the selections available on the jukebox.
“See something you like?” Johnny placed a nickel on the table.
“Not really. It’s all cowboy music.”
“You’re in cowboy country.”
“Here’s one that’s quite appropriate—” she glanced at him to see him eyeing her intently—“Hoagy Carmichael’s ‘I Get Along Without You Very Well.’” She picked up the nickel, put it in the slot, and punched in her selection.
He ducked his head as if to avoid a blow. “Ouch! You’re still mad.”
“I’m not mad. It’s not that important,” she lied, unable to look at him.
“It is to me.”
A young waitress with a perky red apron and headband came to the booth with two glasses of water. She eyed Johnny with interest.
“We have hot beef with mashed potatoes or meat loaf with pork and beans.”
They both ordered the hot beef. Kathleen asked for iced tea, Johnny for coffee.
The waitress gave Johnny a slant-eyed smile, then flounced away. In the backwash of silence that followed, Kathleen listened to the music. Johnny watched her. The hot Oklahoma sun had brought out a few more freckles. The rapid pulse at the base of her throat told him that she was nervous. That surprised him. To look at her, you’d think that she was as cool as a cucumber.
“I’ve a few things to tell you,” he said softly.
Kathleen’s eyes met his. “You had to bring me here to tell me? You could have said whatever you have to say at the office. You needn’t have gone to all this trouble.”
“It’s no trouble.”
“I should have said bother.”
“It’s not a bother either. You’d not understand if I tried to explain what happened at the store. I’ll just say at the moment I thought it was the right thing to do.”
Kathleen understood that that was the only apology she was going to get. She stared unblinkingly at him.
“I can take care of myself, you know. There’s no need for you to feel obligated to look out for me because your sister is married to my uncle.” She spoke quietly, but the very unexpectedness of her tone gave the words an abrupt, harsh quality.
“Get the chip off your shoulder, ma’am. You need friends if you’re going to stay in this town.” Points of light flared in Johnny’s dark eyes.
“Why, all of a sudden, are you interested in being my friend?”
“Let’s just say that I changed my mind.”
“Since I met Webb and Krome on the street? You didn’t have to ride to my rescue. I could have handled them.”
“Handle them my hind foot!” Air hissed from between his clenched teeth. “I want you to know that—”
He broke off speaking when the waitress came with their meal and placed a plate in front of each of them. The helping of mashed potatoes and the slab of beef on the white bread, both covered with steaming gravy, looked delicious. Kathleen stirred the small green lumps on the side of the plate with her fork.
“What’s this?” she asked when the girl had left their booth.
“Fried okra.”
“Never heard of it. Is it a vegetable?”
“Yeah. Grows on a bush like a green pepper. We grew a lot of it on the farm over at Red Rock. It’s rolled in cornmeal and fried, or put in soup or cooked with tomatoes and onions. Try it.”
“Humm—” Kathleen chewed and swallowed. “It’s . . . ah . . . edible.”
Johnny laughed. “You either like it or you don’t. You don’t have anything against potatoes, do you?”
“No. My Norwegian grandparents practically lived on potatoes. Have you ever had potato dumplings? Even though they are a Swedish dish, my grandmother made them as well as potato pancakes, potato bread, soup, salad, fritters, boiled potatoes, mashed potatoes, scalloped potatoes. She even made her yeast out of potatoes.”
Johnny generously peppered his meal and Kathleen raised an eyebrow. He grinned at her.
“I don’t suppose you used a lot of black pepper up there either.”
“Not that much. This is good,” she said after she had taken a bite, chewed, and swallowed. “I guess I didn’t realize that I was so hungry. Up North we call this a hot beef sandwich.”
“We call it that down here, too. Do you plan to go back to Iowa?”
“Nothing to go back to except a few acres of land. A neighbor rents it.”
“I’ve heard that it gets pretty cold up there.”
“It was thirty below for over a week in 1936. When it gets that cold, the ground freezes so hard and so deep that they have to use blasting powder to dig a grave. I was used to the cold and didn’t mind it so much.”
“I’ve not been any farther north than Kansas City. It was plenty cold there.”
They ate in silence. Diners came in and occupied the booths on each side of them. Nickels were poured into the jukebox. “I’m an Old Cowhand from the Rio Grande” was a frequent choice. Kathleen gave Johnny a knowing look and smiled.
“I’m in cowboy country,” she said.
Johnny found himself staring dumbly at the thick mass of curly red hair that brushed her shoulders. He had an almost irresistible impulse to reach out and bury his fingers in that glossy mane. He forced his gaze to wander away from her and out over the café. When she spoke, he turned to find her quizzically staring at him.
“You don’t come to town very often, do you?”
“Only when I have to.”
“Tell me about your ranch.”
“It’s just a little speck out there on the prairie,” he said, and dismissed the subject. “Ready to go? I’ll get the check.”
“Are you sure we can’t go Dutch. This isn’t a date, so you’re not obligated to pay for my supper.”
A short dry laugh came from him. “I thought it was a date. I’m not so poor that I can’t invite a
friend
out to supper.”
“Now it’s time for you to get off your high horse. I was just trying to make it easy for you in case you’d changed your mind . . . again.”
“Let’s get out of here. It won’t do for me to shake you in front of all these people.” He got up and waited for her to slide from the booth. “We can’t talk in here.”
Johnny paid the check, and they left the café. Night had fallen.
“I’ll walk you home. I don’t imagine you’d be too happy riding in that old truck of mine.”
“So now you think I’m a snob.”
“I didn’t say that. I said . . . oh, forget it.”
“I like to walk. It’s a nice night, and I want to hear what you have to tell me.”
Johnny threw caution to the wind, took her hand, and drew it up into the crook of his arm. He liked touching her, liked having her close to him as they walked. He liked being in the dark with her. He just wished his damn heart would stop beating so fast.
“I want to warn you about Webb and Krome. They were in Wilson’s store bragging that they had a score to settle with you. I’d not put anything past them, so be careful. It’s dark now when you leave the paper. Maybe you’d better drive your car up and park it in front of the office.”
“Is that why you changed your mind and decided we could be friends?”
“No,” he said abruptly. “Listen to what I’m telling you. Webb and Krome are out to get even with you. I think there’s a connection between them and Deputy Thatcher. I don’t know what it is, and I don’t know if Sheriff Carroll is a part of it. But it’s mighty fishy that he took the word of those two against ours and let them off the hook.”
“Are they out to get even with you? You’re the one who stopped them from hijacking my car. You’re the one who marched them off to the sheriff’s office.”
Johnny snorted his disgust. “They’re not sure how they’d come out in a fight with me. They might attempt to jump me. What they don’t know is that . . . they’ll get as good or better than they give.”
“Webb had the nerve to ask me to go to a honky-tonk with them and learn the jitterbug dance.”
“I suppose you told him you’d go,” Johnny teased.
“Yeah. Sure. I’ve seen the jitterbug dance, and it isn’t something I want to do. I like slow romantic tunes like ‘Bury Me Not on the Lone Prairie’ and ‘Red River Valley.’”
“I thought you didn’t like cowboy music.”
“I was just being contrary. I get that way sometimes.” Her soft laughter burst out unexpectedly.
Johnny chuckled. “Now, you tell me.”
“I had to play ‘I Get Along Without You Very Well.’ That was too good to pass up. Considering—” She laughed again softly, teasingly.
“I’ll remember that—about you being contrary.”
They walked along in companionable silence. After a short while Johnny asked her what had happened at the sheriff’s office. Kathleen told him about her encounter with the deputy.
“I couldn’t believe the nastiness and arrogance of the man. He was insulting to me, to Adelaide, and to Paul.”
Unconsciously Johnny pressed the hand in the crook of his arm tighter and tighter to his side as his anger at the deputy escalated.
“Did he threaten you?”
“Not directly. He said that they had better uses here in Rawlings for women like me than to tar and feather them and run them out of town.”
“The son of a bitch!” Johnny tried to put a tight leash on his anger.
“After you and the sheriff left the office, we had a visit from Dr. Herman. He warned me about
brawling
on the street. Can you believe that? Brawling? He recited some of the town’s history and told me about a woman with red hair like mine who was put in jail for attacking a woman on the street. She was . . . ah . . . well, she was a prostitute who had been with the woman’s husband.” Kathleen’s giggle came out of the darkness and Johnny felt an unexpected surge of happiness within him.
“I told him she should have attacked her husband and kicked him in a place that would’ve stopped his whoring for a good long while. He didn’t think it was funny. The doctor doesn’t like me very much. He’s not used to people talking back to him.”
Johnny’s hand came up to press the one tucked in the crook of his arm.
BOOK: Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers]
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