Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers] (48 page)
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Authors: With Heart
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Johnny clasped his hands under his head, looked up at the bullet hole in the tent, and thought of what he’d do when he got home. He had the land that he’d bought before he and Kathleen were married. As his needs had been few, his pay each month, except for five dollars, had gone back to pay on the mortgage. Keith McCabe had run some cattle on his land. That money, too, had gone toward the mortgage. Considering that he had given almost five years of his life to Uncle Sam, he wasn’t in too bad a way financially.
He had stopped looking for mail other than from Henry Ann and occasional letters from Adelaide and his half sister, Marie, after the first six months. The first Christmas he was in the Pacific Theater, he had hoped for a card from the only woman he had ever loved, and had made her a bracelet out of aluminum from a downed Japanese aircraft. Many hours of painstaking work had gone into engraving her name on it. He had been stupid enough to buy a comb made out of trochus shells, from which pearl buttons are made, from a Guadalcanal native.
After that disappointment he had packed away the bracelet and comb and concentrated strictly on trying to stay alive while he raced out of a flatboat onto an enemy-held island and while he drove the big bulldozer to clear the land, or the packer that rolled the coral to make the landing strips.
But, dammit to hell! No matter how hard he’d tried to forget, there was still a vacant place in his heart.
• • •
Johnny had been waving automatically to the crowd that lined the street as his mind wandered. He was suddenly jolted back to reality when he saw Paul and Adelaide waving frantically. Behind them a slender figure was standing in the window of the
Gazette
office. Was it Kathleen? Hell, no. If she’d been in town, she’d have been at the depot to get a few pictures and a story for the paper. Now he wished he’d asked Barker if he had heard from her. She and Barker had always been thick as thieves, and at one time he had honestly thought that she was in love with the man.
Gazette
office. Was it Kathleen? Hell, no. If she’d been in town, she’d have been at the depot to get a few pictures and a story for the paper. Now he wished he’d asked Barker if he had heard from her. She and Barker had always been thick as thieves, and at one time he had honestly thought that she was in love with the man.
The truck pulling the hayrack stopped in front of the courthouse. Johnny jumped down and hoisted his duffel bag to his shoulder. Barker was waiting there.
“We’d like for you to come out to the ranch, Johnny.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll go on out to the Circle H.” “It’s up to you. You know that you’re always welcome. The car is just down the street. The kids are down at Claude’s.”
“That old coot still fryin’ hamburgers?”
“He’s still at it.”
Barker had always driven like a bunch of Apaches were after him. He did that now, dust trailing behind the car like a bushy red tail. Johnny was about to ask about Kathleen, then thought better of it. Instead he asked about the town’s main industry, which Barker owned.
“How’s the tannery doing?”
“Good. We’re getting summer and fall hides and keeping more of the good stuff for our own factory. The government cut down some on their buying when the European War ended, and then almost completely stopped ordering a few months ago. So we must look for another market.”
“I’m sure you’ll find one.”
Johnny’s hungry eyes roamed the flat Oklahoma plains, then lifted to the eagle that soared effortlessly in the blue sky. It was good to be home. He noticed things that he had taken for granted before; like the occasional oak or hawthorn tree along the road that was heavy with mistletoe. The whiteberry parasite had become the state flower of Oklahoma. The first Christmas he and Kathleen had been married he had put a clump of mistletoe in each doorway of the house, an excuse to kiss her—as if he needed one.
Thank goodness Barker knew when to be quiet. Johnny glanced at his stoic profile and the hair that was heavily streaked with gray. That had been a surprise. He’d had only a touch of gray when he’d last seen him.
In a few days he’d buy some kind of car and go over to Red Rock and see Henry Ann and Tom. He wondered if Pete and Jude Perry had come through the war. The last he’d heard Pete was in the navy. Jude had joined the army, gone to officers’ school and was a captain in the 45th Infantry out of Fort Sill. The Thunderbirds had seen heavy action at Anzio and had taken heavy casualties. God, he hoped Jude had come through. He was the best of the Perrys.
Barker stopped the car in front of the small frame house but kept the motor running. After Johnny got out of the car he lifted his duffel bag from the backseat, bent over, and peered through the window.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Johnny straightened, and the car moved away. The first thing he noticed after distance had eaten up the sound of the motor, was the quiet it left in its wake. During the years he had been away, there had always been sound coming from somewhere, even on the boat going and returning across the Pacific. He stood still, not wanting to break the silence even with his footsteps.
The small four-room house looked lonely and unloved. Grass was a foot high in the places where Kathleen had planted flowers. The old washtub he had nailed to a stump to serve as a planter was still there, but dried weeds replaced the colorful moss rose that once filled it. He eased his duffel bag down onto the porch and walked slowly around the house. The stock pen was empty, the windmill still.
Johnny sat down on the back steps, rested his forearms on his thighs, and clasped his hands tightly together. Coming back was not as he had imagined it would be. In the jungles of Guadalcanal, New Guinea, and Bougainville he had dreamed of this place. After that first Christmas when he had not heard from Kathleen, he realized that he had lost her. The desire to get back to his ranch was what had kept him sane during the bombings and shellings.
Now that he was back, what was it but just a place? One small lonely spot in the universe.
The following recipe was sent to me by Mary Patchell, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. It was a favorite of her family during the Great Depression.
CHOCOLATE GRAVY
4 level Tbs. cornstarch (My grandma used 8 Tbs. flour)
2 level tsp. cocoa
1/2 c sugar
dash of salt
2 c milk
1 tsp. vanilla
1 Tbs. butter
Into a pan or skillet, sift together first four ingredients. Add milk slowly. Cook over medium heat, stirring until thick. Remove from heat and add vanilla and butter.
Serve over hot biscuits.
Mrs. Patchell writes:
Sometimes Grandpa butchered hogs and we had bacon, ham, or sausage with our biscuits. And Grandma cooked the best pinto beans, corn bread, and fried potatoes. Even today that is my favorite meal for supper.
Sometimes Grandpa butchered hogs and we had bacon, ham, or sausage with our biscuits. And Grandma cooked the best pinto beans, corn bread, and fried potatoes. Even today that is my favorite meal for supper.
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