Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers]

by With Heart

  “I know about where that is. Good flat country.”

  “I’ve heard of the Flemings. Are you from around Duncan?”

  “My brother is. I’m from Elk City.”

  “Now I remember. A Fleming from Elk City owns the tannery here.”

  “Only part of it. My sister and her husband own the controlling interest.” Barker’s eyes went to Johnny. “Where’s your ranch, Johnny?”

  “Eight miles south.” Johnny threw his half-smoked cigarette on the ground and stepped on it.

  Keith set his son on the ground beside Ruth. “Hold on to Davis, honey. I’m going to head off trouble.”

  Kathleen looked behind her to see the man who brought Clara coming their way. He had evidently instructed Clara to wait, because she stood with arms crossed, pouting, against the end of the corral.

  “Keith, I heard this morning that this was your stock here at the rodeo.”

  “Are you offering to buy, Marty?”

  “I don’t deal in cattle. Hey, how is Ruth? She gets prettier all the time. Gonna kick out another kid, huh?” Marty hit Keith on the upper arm. “It must be handy having your own woman on the ranch. Anytime, anyplace. Huh, Keith?”

  “Shut up, Marty.” A dark scowl covered Keith’s face. “What are you up to? What are you doing here?”

  “Keeping an eye on my investment. Johnny Henry made me a little money today.” He raised his brows. “Lost the bull ride, won the calf rope, lost the barrel race, and won the bronc-riding. Just the way I bet on him.”

  “What the hell are you saying, Marty?”

  “Nothin’. Me ’n Johnny are shirttail relations, Keith. Just like you and me.”

  Keith snorted. “Your sister was married to the man who later married Johnny’s sister. That’s your only connection to Johnny unless you’re saying that you and Johnny hatched up a scheme for him to throw some on the contests.”

  Marty smirked. “I’ve known the boy for a long time. Like him. Don’t hold being a breed against him. Any little deal we cook up is strictly between us.”

  “In the first place, Johnny is NO boy. He’s a twenty-five-year-old man. And if you want to keep your teeth, Marty, you’d better not be putting out the story that he threw any of the events so that you could cash in with the big gamblers.”

  “Trust me, Keith. I’ll not give our secret away.” Marty looked unruffled and arrogant. “Listen, Keith. I’m willing to let you in on the ground floor of something big. I came up here just to look around, not knowing that you’d be here. But being that you’re here and we’re kin, I’ll cut you in.”

  Keith folded his arms and rocked back on his heels. “What big things are you planning now? Are you going to dam up the Red River and flood my ranch?”

  “Something bigger than that. I’m going to build a toll bridge across it like they did across the Canadian River up at Purcell.”

  “You go right ahead and do that, Marty.”

  “Don’t you want in on it. All we’d have to do is sit back and collect the tolls.”

  “That’d be a good job for you, little man.” Keith slapped Marty so hard on the back that he staggered. “Get yourself a rocking chair, sit on the bridge, and collect the tolls. I’m taking my family home.”

  Marty’s face turned ugly. “One of these days I’ll hit it big, and you’ll be sittin’ out there on that pig-turd ranch with nothin’ but a handful of cows.”

  “Well, that’s how I like it. Here comes your Kewpie doll, Marty. You’d better take her and get the hell out of here before I forget that I’m bigger than you are.”

  Marty looked over his shoulder and scowled.

  “I got tired waitin’, sugar.” When Clara reached him she clasped his arm possessively, and smiled flirtatiously at Keith. “I’m Clara Ramsey, good-looking.” She held out a hand.

  “Howdy.” Keith touched the hand briefly. “’Bye, Marty. I hope you can find your way back to Texas.” Keith walked away.

  “Oh, there’s Johnny,” Clara squealed, and began tugging Marty toward where Johnny stood with his back to the fence. “Come meet Johnny, Marty. We’re old friends.” She ran to Johnny and would have kissed him on the cheek, if he hadn’t reared back and turned his head. “I’m so proud of you, Johnny. I was so . . . thrilled! Did ya hear me yellin’ for you?”

  Johnny’s hands shot out to hold her away from him.

  “This is Johnny, Marty. The friend I told you about.” She giggled.

  “I know who he is. Long time no see.” Marty held out his hand. Johnny ignored it. The snub was obvious.

  “All right, be a dumb Indian,” Marty said angrily. “I was just trying to be friendly.”

  Johnny bristled. He was tired and sore. “This dumb Indian might shove your rear up between your shoulders if you don’t get the hell away from me and take this bangtail with you.”

  “It’s what I would expect from trash. Wasn’t your mama a Mud Creek whore and your daddy a drunk Indian?”

  Johnny yanked Marty’s hat off his head and hit him across the face with it, then threw it at him.

  “And yours was a buzzard. Get out of my sight, and if you come near me again, I’ll break your stupid head wide open.”

  Kathleen glanced quickly at Barker. His dark, intense eyes were on Johnny. A thought in the back of her mind began to wiggle its way forward. Johnny would look something like Barker when he was older. His Indian features were not as prominent as Barker’s, but he had the same quiet face. Both he and Keith were waiting to see what happened. Keith was tense, but smiling . . . broadly.

  Clara, red-faced and angry, picked up Marty’s hat and tugged on his arm.

  “Let’s go, sugar. He’s mad ’cause I don’t put out for him,” she said in a confidential tone, then shrieked at Johnny. “You’ll be sorry, Johnny Henry. You’re jealous ’cause you’ll never ’mount to any more than a rag-tail breed livin’ in a shack out on the prairie. Marty and me are goin’ to Nashville. We’ll make it big and come back here and spit all over all of ya.”

  Kathleen’s eyes went quickly to Johnny. He was clenching his teeth in an effort to hold his temper, and she was glad that Clara was able to pull Marty away.

  Kathleen turned to the McCabes and began to talk to avert the attention from Johnny.

  “I’ll write Uncle Hod and Molly and tell them that I met you. Would you mind if I took a picture of the three of you to send to them?”

  “I’d like that,” Ruth said. “And maybe I could use the negative to make a copy for us.”

  “Of course. Turn now and face the sun.”

  Holding his son on one arm, Keith put the other around his wife and drew her close to his side.

  Looking through the viewfinder, Kathleen said, “Now, smile.” She took the picture and turned to Johnny. “Get in there, Johnny. Uncle Hod will want a picture of you, too.” Johnny sauntered over and stood behind Ruth.

  After she snapped the picture, Keith set his son on the ground and reached for Kathleen’s Kodak.

  “Hod and Molly would like a picture of you and Johnny.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “I do. Now stand over there. Come on, cowboy.”

  Kathleen took off her hat and fluffed her hair with her fingers. She moved over to stand beside Johnny. He flung an arm across her shoulders and pulled her tightly against him. She looked up at him in surprise. He looked down at her. It was then that Keith snapped the picture.

  “Try not to pay any attention to what Clara says. You know what she is,” Kathleen whispered.

  “Uh-huh,” he murmured as his arm dropped from around her.

  Kathleen put the straw hat back on her head and reached for her Kodak.

  “I’d better get back to the paper and develop this film. Hazel and Emily are waiting for me at the car.”

  “I’ll walk along with you.” Barker said his good-byes to the McCabes, then held out his hand to Johnny. “You did a hell of a job out there today. I’ll see you again.”

  “Thank
s,” Johnny murmured grudgingly.

  It had been years since Johnny had felt anything like jealousy toward another man. He had that feeling now as he watched Kathleen walk away with a man who appeared to be well educated and was well-off if he owned half the tannery. Usually name-calling didn’t bother him all that much, but today he had been embarrassed to be called a breed in front of the man, yet it was what he was, too.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After Kathleen took Hazel and Emily home, she went back to the Gazette. She let herself into the office with her key, then locked the door behind her. She could hear the radio and knew that Paul was in his room. After hesitating for a minute or two, she knocked on his door.

  “I’m sorry to bother—”

  “It’s all right. Come in. Addy and I were going to listen to old Doc Brinkley down in Del Rio.”

  “How did the rodeo go?” Adelaide didn’t seem to be the least bit embarrassed to be caught in Paul’s room. She was wearing a lounge robe and sat on the bed with her back against the headboard. “Did Johnny win?”

  “He won All-Around Cowboy. I took his picture. If we can get the print on the bus tonight, we’ll have the engraving back in time for this week’s paper.”

  “I’ll develop the film.” Paul glanced at the clock on his desk, then reached for the Kodak.

  “I wish I knew how to do that,” Kathleen said.

  “I’ll teach you how to develop and make prints, but not tonight. I’ll have to speed up the process if I’m to have it ready by the time the bus comes through.”

  While he spoke he extracted the roll of film from the Kodak. He left them and went into the little closet he had made into a darkroom.

  “Isn’t he amazing?” Adelaide asked proudly. “He can do most everything. If he doesn’t know how to do something, it drives him crazy until he learns. He set up the darkroom out of scraps of this and that. He takes beautiful pictures, too.”

  “Why not take pictures for the paper?”

  “I wish he would, but he scarcely leaves the building. He insists on staying in the background. He is a dear, sweet man.” Adelaide moved her feet and nodded for Kathleen to sit down.

  “I think so, too. If he weren’t head over heels in love with you, I might try to beat your time.”

  “I can’t believe how lucky I am. Now, tell me about the rodeo. Was there a big crowd?”

  “The bleachers were almost full. It seemed to be a good crowd, but I have nothing to compare it to. The concession stands were doing a good business. I managed to avoid Mrs. Smothers, thank goodness.”

  “I bet she wanted her picture taken.”

  “She did, but I avoided it. Mr. Fleming was there. Apparently he’s on good terms with Judge Fimbres.”

  “If there’s anyone in town Doc Herman is leery of, it’s Judge Fimbres.”

  “I’m glad to know that there’s someone who stands up to him. Sheriff Carroll and that lamebrained deputy were walking around.” Kathleen slipped off her shoes and sat cross-legged on the bed. “Clara Ramsey showed up with an obnoxious little jelly bean who made Johnny really angry.” Kathleen told Adelaide about the incident and finished up with, “The man was mean and vicious, calling Johnny’s mother a whore, and then Clara called him a breed. I wanted to knock her teeth out.”

  “I’m surprised that you didn’t.” Adelaide laughed.

  “I came to within an inch. I was embarrassed for Johnny in front of his friends and Mr. Fleming. Clara is nothing but trouble. She didn’t come home last night, and Hazel was worried. Clara will come to a bad end. She’s heading for it with breakneck speed.”

  “Who was the man with her? Was he from around here?”

  “Hazel said his name was Marty Conroy, and he’s from Texas.”

  “Conroy? Is he a little guy who wears flashy clothes, drives a fancy car, and struts around like a peacock?”

  “I didn’t see his car, but he wears flashy clothes and struts like a peacock,” Kathleen said drily.

  “The first year Paul was here, he and I were over to Red Rock to an air show. Conroy was there trying to sell oil leases. People we met there told us to steer clear of him, that he was a shyster.”

  “Clara thinks that he’s going to take her to Nashville. I hope he does and gets her away from here. She’s worrying her mother to death.”

  Kathleen slipped on her shoes. “I think I’ll stop by Claude’s for a hamburger. I’ll come back and get the photo and wait for the bus.”

  “Go on home. Paul and I will see to it that the picture gets on the bus.”

  “I think I will, if you don’t mind.”

  Kathleen let herself out of the office and locked the door. Someone was sitting on the curb beside her car. She approached cautiously and discovered that it was Hannah, the Indian woman who had come into the office several times since she had been here.

  “Hello, Hannah.” The woman looked at her with blurry, unfocused eyes. “Can I give you a ride home?” Kathleen asked.

  “Want . . . beer—” she muttered. “Whish-key—”

  “Let me take you home, Hannah.” The woman was drunk. Kathleen wasn’t sure if she could stand.

  “Whish-key?”

  “No. I’ll help you up and take you home.” She took hold of the woman’s arm, but she wouldn’t budge. “You’ll have to help me. Come on, stand up.”

  “Whish-key—”

  “No, whiskey,” Kathleen said irritably.

  While she was standing there wondering what to do, the sheriff’s car pulled up beside them and stopped. He got out.

  “Don’t arrest her,” Kathleen said quickly. “I’ll take her home.”

  Sheriff Carroll ignored Kathleen, went to Hannah, and pulled her to her feet. He held on to her to steady her.

  “You’ve had enough for today, Hannah.”

  “Whish-key.”

  “No more. I’ll take you home. Come on. You can’t stay here on the street.” He handled her so gently that Kathleen could only watch with amazement.

  “No.” Hannah tried to pull away. “Whish-key.”

  “You can’t have any more.”

  Sheriff Carroll got the front door of his car open and pushed her down onto the seat. He stooped and lifted her feet inside, then slammed the door. Without as much as a nod to Kathleen, he rounded the car, got under the wheel, made a U-turn in the middle of the street, and drove away.

  Kathleen was puzzled by what she had just seen. The sheriff who had been so short and nasty with her for “brawling” on the street, had treated the drunken Indian woman far differently. He had been compassionate and gentle with her. Kathleen shook her head in wonderment.

  People usually came to town on Saturday night, but there were far more than the usual number milling about because of the rodeo. Kathleen drove slowly down the street. All the stools were full at Claude’s when she passed. She finally found a place to park in front of the bank. She walked the short distance to the Golden Rule Restaurant, went inside, and sat down at a booth near the door.

  The waitress brought her a glass of water and a cardboard menu. She was trying to decide what she wanted to have when she became aware that someone was standing at the end of the booth. She looked up to see Johnny glowering down at her.

  “What the hell are you doing roaming around this time of night by yourself?”

  “It isn’t night, and I drove the car.”

  “It’ll be dark in fifteen minutes. Webb and Krome were sitting on a bench in front of the shoe repair not five minutes ago. They must have seen you park and come in here.”

  “So what if they did? I’ll go to my car and go home. Do you think they’ll chase me on foot?”

  “Where’s your boyfriend?”

  “Boyfriend? What are you talking about?”

  “The dude. The dressed-up city man.”

  “Mr. Fleming? He isn’t my boyfriend. And my neck is getting tired looking up at you. Either sit down or go away.”

  “Come sit with me and the McCabes. After w
e eat I’ll take you home.”

  “Oh, no. I’m not butting in on your—”

  Johnny picked up the glass of water that had been left by the fuzzy-haired, overweight waitress. He turned his back to Kathleen and spoke to her as she came to the booth.

  “She’s moving over to our table.”

  “Okey-doke. Be right with you.”

  “Johnny, I don’t want to intrude on you and your friends. I’ll sit here; and if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll leave the restaurant when you do.”

  “Don’t you like the McCabes? They’re good decent people. Or is it me that you don’t want to be seen with?”

  “If we weren’t in this restaurant,” she muttered as she slid out of the booth, “I’d hit you right on that smart mouth.”

  “Don’t let that stop you. I’ve been hit in the mouth in fancier places than this.”

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  With his hand in the small of her back he pushed her toward the corner table where the McCabes were sitting. Keith made an effort to get to his feet even though his son was asleep in his lap.

  “Don’t get up . . . please,” Kathleen hastened to say.

  “Sit down,” Ruth invited. “I need another woman to help me hold down these two wild broncs. They’re still all up in the air over the win at the rodeo.”

  “Thank you. Johnny insisted that I join you. I didn’t want to intrude.”

  “It’s a relief to be able to look at someone besides him,” Keith said, and reached over and kissed his wife on the cheek. “I can’t look at you all the time, sugarfoot. You’ve got to admit that Kathleen’s prettier than Johnny.”

  “Don’t revert back to your wild ways, Romeo. You’re going home with me.”

  “See what a tight rope she keeps on me? I can’t have any fun.”

  “Oh, poor you,” Ruth said. Then she turned to Kathleen. “Molly’s baby is due anytime, isn’t it?”

  “Around Halloween. Uncle Hod teases her about looking like she swallowed a pumpkin.”

  “Does George Andrews still come to the store everyday?”

  “Not as often as he used to. Molly said that he’s taken a liking to Catherine Wisniewski and her son Wally, and they to him. He spends a lot of time at the restaurant helping her now that Wally is away at college. Molly thinks that George had a lot to do with his going.”