by With Heart
Kathleen waved, but there was no way he would have seen her unless he had been looking in the rearview mirror. She hurried down the street thinking that he would stop at the Gazette, but he passed it by and turned on the street where Mrs. Ramsey lived. He was delivering the table he had promised.
Adelaide was typing when Kathleen entered the office. She stood beneath the fan for a moment. Her dress was stuck to her back, and she could feel rivulets of perspiration running down the valley between her breasts. She fanned her face with the brim of her hat.
“You’re getting a sunburn.” Adelaide yanked a sheet of paper out of the typewriter.
“It’s more windburn. It blows more here than in Kansas, and it’s hotter. My freckles are having a coming-out party. I’m serving them a daily dose of buttermilk, but it doesn’t seem to help much.” Kathleen placed her hat on the counter and took papers from the folder she carried. “I got a couple of new ads. One from Ginny at CUT and Curl. She’s got a special on permanent waves, a dollar and a half, down from a dollar ninety-eight.”
“You don’t need one of those, that’s for sure.”
“No, but I had to promise to come back for a cut.” She lifted the thick curls off her neck. “I may have her shave my head.”
“That would be a sight.”
“I do get tired of being referred to as that redheaded woman. What do you know about Mitchell Thatcher, the deputy?”
“He’s a horse’s patoot.”
“That’s an insult to the horse.”
“Yeah, but he’s the deputy supported by Sheriff Carroll.”
Kathleen snorted. “You can put lipstick on a pig all day long, and he’s still a pig.”
“That bad?”
“We got into a little tiff, and he didn’t like my smart mouth. I asked him if he was going to tar and feather me, and he said that they had better uses for women down here. Was that a threat?”
Adelaide didn’t answer right away. Kathleen sat down at her desk and glanced over to see her partner staring off into space and tapping the rubber end of her pencil on the desk. Finally, when she spoke it was thoughtfully.
“Be careful of him, Kathleen.”
“Why? Why should I have to take his insinuations without talking back?”
“What was he insinuating?”
“Oh, that he ran things when the sheriff was gone and . . . that women who had smart mouths didn’t get along down here.” And that you were sleeping with Paul, and now that I’m a partner you’ll share him.
“He isn’t a very nice man.”
Kathleen rolled her eyes. “Say it again.”
“I mean it, Kathleen. He and the sheriff may be involved in something here that isn’t very pleasant.”
Kathleen became very still. “Something that has to do with Louise Munday?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because of something Paul said the day I arrived. He said Louise was afraid that you knew too much. Adelaide, what’s going on?”
“Maybe something. Maybe nothing.” Adelaide looked over her shoulder to be sure that they were alone. “Paul and I have wondered about the doctor’s office. He calls it a clinic. But if someone gets really sick, he sends them to Altus or Lawton. About all he does is deliver babies. A lot of women come to Doc Herman.”
“Is Louise the only nurse?”
“As far as I know. There are several other women who work there, and I’ve seen a couple of them in white uniforms, but without the cap. It just seems strange that someone from out of town would come here to have a baby.”
“How do you know they come here?”
“Before I was cut off from seeing the records at the courthouse, I found registered birth certificates from couples giving their addresses as Colorado, Texas, and even as far away as Missouri. When I asked questions, I got a rebuke from Dr. Herman. He said that he had been recommended by family and friends. He acted as if I were questioning his qualifications. Shortly after that, Louise began to spread it around that I was a heavy drinker and had hallucinations. The story is all over town. When you came, it gave some legitimacy to her story that I’m not capable of running the paper.”
“Good heavens! And I called her when you fell out of the chair.”
“I didn’t fall out of the chair, Kathleen. I was pushed, lost my balance, and fell.”
Kathleen looked at her, her eyes full of questions. Finally, she voiced one of them.
“By the Indian woman who came out of the office as I drove up?”
“Yes. Her name is Hannah. She is a pitiful creature, drunk most of the time. I’m afraid that she’s used by anyone who will buy her a bottle of rotgut whiskey. She’s been pregnant twice during the past few years. Any man who takes advantage of her is not a man but a rutting animal, in my estimation.”
“Who takes care of her children?”
“I never see them. They’re probably being cared for. The Cherokee are very protective of their children, even the half-breed children of a woman who has been cast out.”
“Why did she push you?”
“She wanted money. I’ve bought a few things for her at the grocery now and then. That day I asked her where her baby was because I could see that her breasts were leaking milk. She didn’t say anything, so I asked again where it was. When she didn’t answer, I asked her if she had lost it. She got mad and shoved me.”
“You didn’t want Louise to know Hannah had pushed you.”
“Hannah is a drunk. A pitiful drunk.” Adelaide rubbed the back of her neck.
“There’s a social service woman in Oklahoma City. I think her name is Mable Bassett. She would know what to do about her.”
“I’ve thought about calling her,” Adelaide said, and reached for the telephone when it rang. “Gazette. Oh, hello, Johnny. Yes, she’s here. Just a moment. For you, Kathleen.”
Kathleen moved her chair back so she could reach the phone. “Hello.”
“Miss Dolan, Johnny Henry. I took the table for your typewriter down to Mrs. Ramsey’s.”
“Thank you. I want to pay you—”
“Forget it. I wasn’t using it.”
“At least let me buy you a hamburger at Claude’s.”
“Yes, well, sometime. See you around. ’Bye.”
“Good-bye.”
Kathleen hung up the phone and turned back to face the window, feeling that she had been given the brush-off. She had been thinking that Johnny Henry was a man she would like to know. Evidently he didn’t feel the same about her. She had thought about him often since the day she came to Rawlings and now was embarrassed to recall those thoughts. She had even thought about asking him to drive with her over to Red Rock to see her uncle, Tom Dolan, and Henry Ann Dolan. Lordy, she was glad the opportunity hadn’t come up. She would have made a fool of herself.
“Got a date with Johnny?” Adelaide asked.
“Heavens, no! He called to say he had delivered a table he said he’d lend me.”
“Oh, shoot! I was hoping you two could get together. Paul and I like Johnny Henry.”
“Does he have a steady girl?” Kathleen hated herself for asking. She had given Adelaide a play-by-play description of what happened when she was hijacked.
“Not that I know of. He stays pretty much to himself. He goes away every so often for several weeks. When he does, he has someone look after his ranch. No one seems to know where he goes.”
Kathleen knew where he went. Her uncle, Hod, had told her that Johnny Henry worked occasionally for the federal government. He and Hod had tracked the movements of Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker, and the information they passed on to Marshal Frank Hamer had resulted in their demise. Johnny evidently kept that part of his life from the people in this town. Kathleen was reluctant to reveal it even to Adelaide.
“We got acquainted with him a few years ago after the rodeo. Paul was having a little trouble with some toughs. He can be pushed just so far before he starts swinging. It was four against one. Johnny stepped in. Since
that time he and Paul have been friends. Johnny is about the only friend Paul has, I might add.”
“I was sure glad he came along when I was being hijacked. He said he turned the names in to the sheriff, but I’ve heard nothing about signing a complaint.”
“And you won’t.”
“How often do they have a city council meeting here?” Kathleen asked.
“Whenever the mayor calls one. It’s usually on short notice. Over and done with before I’m aware of it.”
“Do they allow you to see the minutes?”
Adelaide snorted. “Sure. It’s the law. They give me the bare bones. The meeting was opened, roll called, minutes read and approved. Usually they have a little discussion about a chuckhole in the street or a crack in the sidewalk, then adjourn. Nothing there you can report on. It’s been that way for the past five years.”
“Since the doctor became mayor?”
“Right.”
“There isn’t anyone who stands up against him?”
“He’s an icon, a hero around here. If you criticize him, it’s like criticizing Jesus Christ, motherhood, or baseball. The man and his cronies have a stranglehold on this town. Folks love him, and woe to the one who exposes the good guy as a bad guy. That kind of truth turns the people against the messenger every time.”
“Has he tried to win you over to his side?”
“He asked me out to dinner a few times after his wife died. He was diplomatic about it; but he insinuated that, being an old maid, I think he said maiden lady, he, as my doctor, could teach me the pleasures of the flesh . . . my words, not his. I was so shocked I couldn’t remember exactly what he said, but his meaning was clear. He was willing to give the old maid a treat.” Adelaide shivered. “What little respect I had for him went right out the window.”
“He’s the only doctor in town isn’t he? Do you go to him when you get sick?”
“Paul had been here only a few months when I got really sick. He took me to Altus. Of course, Doc found out about it and sent the sheriff and the deputy in to question Paul. They didn’t find out anything. Paul is very clever. He has managed to create a whole new identity for himself. I didn’t know about Paul’s past at that time. I’m glad I didn’t. It wasn’t until later that he told me.”
“He’s the best linotype operator I’ve ever seen. The operator in Liberal made ten times the mistakes Paul makes. Sometimes I don’t find any in column after column, and I think that I’ve overlooked something.”
Adelaide’s eyes shone with pride. “He is good, isn’t he?”
“He worked on a paper before he came here, didn’t he?”
“Yes. A big paper. Paul is an honorable man. He thought it fair that you knew something about him when you put your money in the paper. He’ll tell you more when he’s ready. Do you have any objection to his writing the national news?”
“Absolutely not! He does a really great job; as good as the Oklahoman and Times or the Wichita Eagle. It’s outstanding for a town of this size. I hope the readers realize what they’re getting.” Kathleen picked up her folder and headed for the door. “I’ll get the ad from the grocery store, and we’ll have the advertising in for this week except for the classifieds. I’ll write the rodeo story when I get back so Paul can set it.”
“I have two long obits. Both men were old-timers here. I wish I had time to send their pictures to Lawton for engraving. I may send them anyway and run the pictures next week.”
“There was an engraver in Liberal, but he was expensive, and the publisher wouldn’t let us put in a picture unless it was something important. We had an extensive file of engravings, pictures of all the prominent people for miles around, and local sites. By the way, I brought mine and put it in the file. You can use it in case I get run over by a truck.”
“Oh, go on with you. You’d better not get hit by a truck. I’d be mad as a hornet. I hate doing ads,” Adelaide called.
Kathleen laughed at her over her shoulder as she went out the door. The heat beaming up from the sidewalk hit her face. She hurried down the street to the store and failed to see the dilapidated old truck parked at the corner.
Chapter Five
Standing beside the grocery counter, Johnny saw Kathleen as she passed the window and again when she entered the store. He had caught a glimpse of her bright red hair earlier when he passed the shoe-repair shop and was relieved to see her there. She would not be at the Ramseys’ when he delivered the table.
Hazel had opened the door for him and watched as he set the table against the wall and lifted Kathleen’s typewriter from the floor. The room was neat as a pin; books and papers were stacked, the bed made without a single wrinkle in the cover. He was beset by a loneliness deeper than he’d ever felt before as he stood amid the little home spot she had made for herself. Embarrassed by his own feelings, he made a hasty retreat, even refusing the offer of a piece of sweet potato pie.
Later he had called Kathleen from the telephone office, where he had gone to pay for a call he had placed the week before.
Since their first meeting on the highway, he’d had plenty of time to think about her as he rounded up his horses down on Keith McCabe’s range. He had bred his mares to Keith’s stallion last April and would keep them closer to home during the winter months in case of a severe norther that could trap them for days without food. During that time he had convinced himself that any further contact with Miss Kathleen Dolan would be dangerous to his peace of mind. Therefore, the only thing to do would be to avoid her whenever possible.
Now, it appeared to be impossible. There was no escape.
He had just given a lengthy list of his needs to Mrs. Wilson when Kathleen came into the store, saw him, and smiled. He touched his fingers to his hat brim and set his dark eyes on her, letting nothing at all show beneath their impenetrable surface.
“Howdy, ma’am.”
“Hello.” Kathleen walked toward him as Mrs. Wilson moved away with his list in her hand. “Thank you for the table.”
“You’re more than welcome.”
He turned away, scooped up coffee beans, poured them into the grinder, and began to turn the large wheel. He knew that she stood there, hesitant, before she walked past him. His thoughts had scattered when she came in the door, but now they were back in his possession. He was more convinced than ever that the two of them had absolutely nothing in common.
She was refined and educated.
He had barely finished the fifth grade.
She was smart enough to write for a newspaper.
It was a chore for him to write a grocery list.
She came from respectable people.
His mother had been Mud Creek trash.
The differences between them went on and on. It was better, he thought now, to have her think that he was uninterested in her as a woman than to have her know that the man who was on the verge of falling in love with her was the bastard son of a whore and a drunken Indian. It was a fact she would find out soon enough.
Johnny was not conceited enough to think that the welcome smile she had given him when she came into the store, was for him . . . personally. It was for the help he had given her the day she arrived and for the table he had just delivered.
Mrs. Wilson returned and bagged the coffee she took from the grinder.
“Our special next week will be soda crackers. You can have them for sale price if you want.”
“I’ll take a box. I was in a hurry when I scratched off the list. I’m surprised you could read it.”
“I made out most of it. You’d better look it over in case I missed something. You’ve got quite an order.”
“I sold one of my mares and decided to lay in a stock of grub.”
“We appreciate your business, Johnny.”
He could hear the click of heels on the wooden floor and knew that Kathleen was coming back to the front of the store. He busied himself checking over the list but was terribly aware when she stopped beside him. He folded the paper and
put it in his shirt pocket.
“I forgot to put cornmeal on the list, Mrs. Wilson. Give me a five-pound bag.” The grocer’s wife nodded and went down the crowded aisle of the store.
“I hear that you’ll be one of the contestants at the rodeo,” Kathleen said. “I’ll be cheering for you.”
“Thanks. I enter every year just for the hell of it.”
“Adelaide says that you usually win.”
“Only the bronc-riding.”
“You’re being modest. She says you win the calf-roping and sometimes the steer-wrestling.”
“Once in a while I get lucky.” His tone was one of disinterest.
He hadn’t looked directly at her except the one time when she first came into the store. Color tinged her face and neck as her irritation mounted. Who the heck does he think he is? He has no right to snub me. I didn’t ask for the darn table.
“Have I stepped on your tail? Is that why you’re giving me the cold shoulder?”
His head turned quickly, and he looked down at her. Good. I got his attention at last.
“Why do you say that?”
“I’m not so dumb that I don’t know when I’m getting the brush-off. I thought that we could be friends as long as we’re both connected to my Uncle Tom. Do you have something against being friends with a woman?”
“Of course not.” Johnny felt his face tingle with embarrassment.
“Then perhaps I have body odor or bad breath. I’ll keep my offensive body at a distance when I see you at the rodeo. Good-bye.” She walked away from him with her head held high.
“Here ya are, Johnny.” Mrs. Wilson returned with the bag of cornmeal. “Anything else?”
“I don’t think so. Tally up the bill.”
After he paid, she packed his order in boxes while he carried a five-gallon can of kerosene out to his truck.
“You should set your cap for Miss Dolan, Johnny,” Mrs. Wilson teased when he came back for the boxes. “She’s nice. Pretty, too. Every single man in town will be beating a path to her door.”
“Ah . . . no,” he stammered. “She’d not see me for dirt. I’m a poor rancher who’s head over heels in debt.”