Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers] (28 page)

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Kathleen groaned inwardly, almost feeling the hurt of the young girl who’d had to hear that she wasn’t wanted.
“Mama and Daddy fussed all the time. Daddy slapped her one night, and I heard him say that he was going back to Rawlings and get his money back. Mama said he’d go to jail. After that, they hardly ever looked at me.”
Judy wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Kathleen exchanged a glance with Adelaide.
“Daddy was gone when I came home from school one day. Mama said it was my fault and told me to get out. She gave me five dollars and said she never wanted to see my . . . face again. I didn’t know what to do, so I came here thinking that if she wasn’t my mother, my mother would be here.”
“Judy, did you ever ask your mother why they were in Rawlings?” Adelaide asked.
“She said they were passing through Rawlings and . . . and they found me on a dung pile.”
Kathleen and Adelaide both shook their heads at the unspeakable cruelty.
The door opened, and Mrs. Smothers came into the office.
“Oh . . . Adelaide, I’m all out of breath. I was afraid I’d be too late to get my story in.”
“The deadline is ten o’clock in the morning, Mrs. Smothers.”
As you well know, you old busybody.
“We . . . ll—Who do we have here?” She turned her beady eyes on Judy. “I’ve not met you before.”
“Of course, you haven’t met her. She’s my cousin from Constantinople.” Kathleen stood and moved between the woman and Judy.
“From where? Is that in Oklahoma?”
“Give me the facts about your sale, Mrs. Smothers, and I’ll add it to the front-page story.”
“You will? That would be sooooo . . . nice of you.”
While Kathleen took notes, Adelaide motioned to Judy and they went quietly into the back room. Mrs. Smothers was so excited that the success of her booth at the rodeo would be prominently displayed on the front page of the paper that she didn’t even notice when they left.
After Kathleen got rid of the woman, she went to the door and said, “All clear.”
Adelaide was laughing when she came back into the office.
“How did you come up with Constantinople?”
“It was the first outlandish place that came to mind. By the time she left she had already forgotten. She asked me if my cousin from
Cincin—mople
would be staying long. I explained that she would be going on to visit another cousin in Winnebago.”
Adelaide laughed. “Where is that?”
“It’s a river in Iowa.”
“Kathleen, you’re the limit.”
“That nosy old woman irritates me.”
“I want to talk to Paul about what Judy told us. We’ve had a suspicion for a couple of years that something was going on at the clinic that they didn’t want anyone to know about.”
“What can we do with Judy? We can’t turn her out on the street. I shudder to think of her meeting up with Webb or Krome, or a dozen other undesirables in this town, including that lecherous deputy.”
“We can’t turn her out to fend for herself.”
“I’d take her home with me and let her share my room for a night or two if it weren’t for Clara. It would give her a reason to rant and rave—not that she needs one.”
“I’ll talk to Paul and see what he thinks about her staying upstairs with me for a day or two. I know what he’ll say—that we know nothing about her and that she could have escaped from the asylum. He’s very suspicious.”
“Suspicious? I’d say he’s very protective of you.” Kathleen pulled a sheet of paper out of her typewriter. “As soon as I have time I’m going down to the courthouse and look up her birth record. But our job at the moment is to get the paper out. After it’s wrapped up tomorrow, I’ll nose around and see what I can find out.”
Judy slept the entire afternoon on the cot that Johnny used when he stayed overnight with Paul. She was so tired that the clanking noise of the linotype machine didn’t seem to bother her at all.
At the end of the day it was decided that Judy would spend the night in Adelaide’s apartment upstairs. Nothing was said directly, but Kathleen assumed that Adelaide would spend the night in Paul’s room.
The days were getting shorter, and it was dark by the time Kathleen left the office to go home. She parked her car behind Hazel’s house and went in through the kitchen door.
“Miss Dolan’s home,” Emily called to her grandmother.
Kathleen noticed that only three places were set at the table, meaning that Clara was not at home.
“Hi, Sugarpuss.”
“Supper is ready, but Mama won’t be here. She went somewhere.”
“After I hang up my coat and wash the ink off my hands, I’ll be right back.”
“Miss Dolan,” Emily whispered, and pulled on Kathleen’s hand. “Mama wore your jacket and . . . and Granny’s cryin’.” The little girl’s eyes were anxious.
“Did they quarrel?”
“Hu-huh.”
“Well, don’t worry about it, honey,” Kathleen whispered back. “I’ll tell your grandma that it’s all right.”
“I don’t want Granny to cry.” Emily’s lips trembled.
“I don’t either. I’ll be right back.”
As she washed her hands in the bathroom, Kathleen wished she had Clara’s neck between them so she could throttle her. The selfish girl had taken her jacket, not caring a whit about the embarrassment it would cause her mother or the anguish it caused her child.
When she returned to the kitchen, Hazel was putting the supper on the table. Her eyes were swollen from crying, and Emily hovered close to her anxiously.
“Something smells good, Hazel.”
“It’s brown beans, tomatoes, and onions.”
“Granny made corn bread,” Emily said.
“I’m so glad. I’m hungry enough to eat you, Sugarpuss.”
Before Hazel sat down, she gripped the back of the chair and looked straight across the table at Kathleen.
“I’ve got to tell you something.” Tears clouded her eyes. “Clara wore your jacket. I feel so bad about it. I’m sorry, really sorry. I told her to leave your things alone. I’d not blame you if you want to find another place to stay.”
“It isn’t your fault, Hazel. When she comes back, I’ll take it and lock it in my trunk. Don’t worry about me moving. I like it here. I like you and I
love
this little sugarpuss.” She reached out an arm and hugged Emily.
“She’ll leave soon. She always does. I always wonder when she goes if I’ll ever see her again.”
“Maybe she
will
make it in Nashville.”
“She won’t. I don’t know where she ever got it in her head that she can sing.”
While they were eating, Hazel seemed to calm a little. “She went somewhere this afternoon, and when she came back she was madder than a wet hen. Someone owes her money and won’t pay. I can’t imagine who it could be. She swore to get even with them.”
“Where is she now?”
“I don’t know.” Tears filled Hazel’s eyes again. “She took the three dollars I had hidden in the baking-powder can. I guess she remembered that I hid things there when she was a little girl.”
After the meal Kathleen stayed in the kitchen to dry the dishes as Hazel washed them and dropped them in the hot rinse water. Emily sat at the table drawing pictures on scraps of newsprint that Kathleen had given to her.
“Hazel, do you remember a family named DeBerry being here in Rawlings about sixteen or seventeen years ago?”
“I don’t think I ever heard that name. A lot of people have left Oklahoma since the start of the Depression.”
“Someone was in the office inquiring about the family. I thought you might know.
“If they had school-age kids, a record would be at the school.”
“That’s true.” A roll of thunder prompted Kathleen to say, “We may be in for a rain.”
“I wish Clara hadn’t gone out. I told her that cloud bank in the southwest looked like rain.”
“She’ll be all right. She probably went to the picture show.”
“No,” Hazel said slowly and sadly. “She went to a honky-tonk. She loves honky-tonks.”
Later, in her room, Kathleen stood by the window and looked out at the star-studded sky before she turned on the light. In the back of her mind all day had been the vision of Johnny looking at her as she sat in the car with Barker Fleming, then, without acknowledging either one of them, turning and riding away.
What had he thought?
He had just learned that the man she was with was his father.
Kathleen wanted to cry.

 

Chapter Seventeen
I
t rained during the night, a typical Oklahoma rainstorm; wind, lightning and a downpour which lasted for only a short time. It was still overcast when morning came. The moment Kathleen entered the kitchen she could tell by the worried look on Hazel’s face that Clara had not come home.
“Good morning.” Kathleen removed the saucer from the top of the blue crockery pitcher where the tea had been steeping and poured a cup. “How are you this morning, Sugarpuss?” she said to Emily.
“All right.”
“I’ll give you a ride to school, if you want.”
“All right. Mama didn’t come home.”
“She probably didn’t want to get caught in the rain and stayed with a friend.” Kathleen glanced at Hazel who kept her face turned away. “I’ll have to leave as soon as you finish your breakfast. The paper goes out today.”
“I’ll be ready.”
It wasn’t fair that a child Emily’s age had to carry the burden of an irresponsible mother. Kathleen fumed all the way to town after she had let Emily off at the school. The child had not said a word after she got into the car and only “’Bye, Miss Dolan” when she got out.
Kathleen went by the bus stop, picked up the engravings for the paper, then parked her car in front of the office. Paul had already set the front page, leaving a two-column-by-three-inch space for the picture of Johnny above the story Kathleen had written about the rodeo.
In order to be ready for the press by noon, Kathleen and Adelaide worked steadily after only a brief mention of Judy.
“She was still asleep when Paul and I had breakfast. I left a note telling her to help herself to bread, butter, and preserves that I left on the table.”
Shortly before noon the phone rang, three short rings and two long ones.
“I wonder what’s happened. That’s the emergency call,” Adelaide said and reached for the phone. “
Gazette.
”
“That you, Adelaide?”
“It’s me, Flossie. What’s going on?”
“Oh, Adelaide . . . oh, Adelaide—a call came to the sheriff that . . . a woman’s body is in the ditch out south of town.”
“Where, Flossie? Exactly where?” Adelaide motioned frantically to Kathleen.
“Just before you get to the corner that goes to the Kilburn ranch.”
“Thanks, Flossie. I owe you, and I’ll not forget it.” Adelaide hung up. “Kathleen, a woman’s body was found in the ditch out south of town. Go straight out Main Street, turn when the pavement ends and go straight south. The sheriff will be there. We’ll hold the front page until you get back.”
Kathleen was already checking the camera for film while Adelaide spoke. She grabbed her purse and went out to her car. Following Adelaide’s instructions, she turned onto the dirt road made soft by last night’s rain. She stayed in the ruts made by the other cars, and after a mile, she saw the sheriff’s car and another car ahead of it. She stopped behind them and got out.
A growing sense of dread filled her as she walked toward the group standing alongside the road. The sheriff came toward her as she approached.
“This isn’t something a lady should see,” he said gruffly.
“I’m a reporter, Sheriff. Who is it?”
“Clara Ramsey.”
“Oh my goodness! Poor Hazel.” Somehow Kathleen had known who the girl was before he spoke. “What happened?”
“She didn’t kill herself, that’s sure.”
“How long ago did it happen?”
“After the rain.”
“I’d like to take some pictures . . . not of the body, but of the scene. Would you stand over there by the sheriff’s car?”
“Sure.” The sheriff made an attempt to pull in his stomach and puff out his chest as he posed beside the car.
Kathleen took pictures from several angles and one quick shot of the body still clothed in the jacket Clara had taken from Kathleen’s room. The pitiful heap sprawled in the ditch looked like a rag doll.
“What do you think happened, Sheriff?” Kathleen took out her pad and pencil. “I’d like to quote you to be sure it will be right.” She had learned that the best way to get information was flattery.
“It looks like she was hit by a car and thrown over in the ditch.” Sheriff Carroll took off his hat and scratched his head. “Someone beat hell out of her first. Being hit by the car wouldn’t have cut up her mouth and blackened her eyes. Her legs are broken . . . but that was from being hit by the car.”

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