“Did you see him?” Adelaide and Paul came back into the office. “I can’t believe that he’s home. He looks so thin and…dark. He was always tan, but that sun over there has baked him as brown as a berry. Oh, honey—” Adelaide exclaimed, when she saw the stricken look on Kathleen’s face. She hurried to her and put her arm around her. “He was looking for you. I know he was. Wasn’t he, Paul?”
“I can’t be sure, honey. He was scanning the crowd, that’s sure.”
“No. He doesn’t even know I’m here. He doesn’t know anything about what I’ve been doing unless you or Barker told him.”
“You asked me not to tell him, and I didn’t. Barker may have. Anyway, he’ll know when he gets out to the ranch. No one else would have gone in there and cleaned like you did.” Adelaide and Paul were Kathleen’s dearest, friends and were sensitive to her emotional hurt and confusion.
“I left him a note.”
“He would have known if you hadn’t left a note. Barker said that he was going to meet him and take him home.”
“He’ll not have a way to get back to town.” Kathleen worried her bottom lip with her teeth.
“That old Nash of yours has about seen its last days, even if it was up on blocks during the war. I’m surprised Eddie could find tires to go on it.” Paul stood behind his petite wife, rubbing her back. “Feel good?” he whispered.
“I could stand here all day.”
“You’re a glutton,” he said softly in her ear.
“Eddie told me he could have sold the Nash a dozen times,” Kathleen said. “He wouldn’t take a dime for storing it all this time. He did it for Johnny not me.”
“I got two rolls of pictures.” The dark-haired girl announced as she burst through the door. She was a bundle of energy, small, quick, and pretty. “I got several of Johnny when he got off the train and again while he was on the float. Lord-dee mercy, he’s good-looking. I don’t think he knew who I was.”
“When he left, you were just a kid. You’ve grown up while he was gone.”
“I’d forgotten he was so handsome.” Judy rolled her eyes. “Maybe I was too young to notice.”
“Want me to develop these? We should decide on the pictures we want for this week’s paper.” Paul opened the camera and took out the film. Judy was like a daughter to Paul and Adelaide, although she had lived with her father, Sheriff Carroll, since her mother’s death three years ago.
“I’ll do it.” She picked up the film and headed for the darkroom, her skirt swirling around her bare legs.
“I can hardly remember when I was that young. She gets prettier all the time,” Kathleen said wistfully. “It’s hard to believe she’s twenty-three. When she came here looking for her real parents, she was just sixteen.”
“And already mighty gutsy,” Paul added.
“She was worried that she’d be out of a job when you came back,” Adelaide said to Kathleen.
“I hope you told her that I’d rather not come back full-time. I want to take a stab at writing a book.”
“She knows that now.”
“I’m thinking about moving to Elk City or maybe back to Liberal. Barker said he’d help me find a place in Elk City. He invited me to come stay at the ranch. They have plenty of room. Wouldn’t that set the tongues to wagging?”
“You’re not moving out there … are you?” Adelaide had a worried look in her eyes.
“No. It would only make a deeper rift between Johnny and his father. Just before Johnny left he brought up his old suspicion that I was attracted to Barker because I was spending so much time out at the ranch. He just couldn’t understand that I just liked his father.”
“I think it was a little more than that. Johnny was jealous and afraid you’d like Barker more than you loved him. To his way of thinking Barker was everything he wasn’t: well-off and educated.” Adelaide seldom criticized Johnny. She was terribly fond of him. She did so now because Kathleen was so miserable. “Barker was a shoulder for you to lean on when Johnny let you down.”
“I’ve got to see him and tell him that I’ll do whatever he wants to do about the divorce. If I divorced Johnny Henry, a hero who spent four years fighting for our country, I’d be the most hated woman in Oklahoma. I’ll do it if that’s what he wants, but I’d rather he’d do it.”
“He might think that you’ve already filed.”
“I haven’t, even though the last thing he said to me was: ‘Get a lawyer to make out the papers. Tell him that half of the ranch is yours and, if you want your money now, to put it up for sale. Send the papers. I’ll sign them and send them back.’ He turned and got on the train and didn’t even look at me again.”
“He loves you, Kathleen. I never knew a man who loved a woman as much.”
“Ah … hum!” Paul cleared his throat loudly.
Adelaide gazed lovingly at her husband. “Don’t get in a snit, love. I was not including you.”
“If he loved me, he wouldn’t have left me to grieve by myself. I lost my baby and then my husband,” Kathleen said with a sudden spurt of spirit.
“It’s a well-known fact that women can handle grief much better than men.”
“It was his damn feeling of inferiority that caused the trouble. He firmly believes that our baby was born deformed and without a chance to live because of him. He thinks that the Perrys, his mother’s family, are an incestuous clan and that any children he has will be like our little Mary Rose.”
“That’s nonsense.”
“I told him so. The doctor in Frederick told him. Another thing that bothers him is that he feels inferior because he can only read on a very low level. I didn’t know that and asked him to read one of my stories. He went through the motions, but when I asked him about it, he threw the magazine down and walked out. I gradually became aware that he could read only the simple words.”
“That must be why he’d never take the test to become a Federal Marshal.”
“I would have taught him if he had given me the slightest hint that he wanted me to.”
“Johnny is a proud man.”
“I have pride and feelings, too. Did he ever ask you about me when he wrote to you?”
“He never wrote anything except his name on the V-mail he sent. It was usually a cartoon or a copy of their Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner menu they gave to the men to send home. Barker said all he ever heard from him was ‘thanks for pkg’ on a V-mail after he had sent him a package.”
“He hated to write even a grocery list.”
“Most men would have made an effort to keep in touch with their loved ones even if they couldn’t write very well.”
“He never asked me to write when he left. He didn’t want to hear from me. I think he thought it was a good time to cut me loose and forget me.”
“If he doesn’t make an effort to make up with you, he’s a fool.”
“I’d better go,” Kathleen said, eager to leave because talking about her pain seemed to make it worse.
“Would you like to stay and have supper with me and Paul?”
“Thank you, but I’d not be very good company. I’ve got some reading to do about the Shoshone Indians. The book I’m going to write will take place up north on the Shoshone Reservation.”
“Why don’t you write about the Cherokee? You could get the information straight from the horse’s mouth and not have to do all that reading.”
“Barker would love to know that,you called him a horse.” Kathleen smiled, But only slightly.
“I’m thinking that he’s been called worse.”
With her head bowed, she walked down the alley toward the stairs leading to the rooms above the drugstore and slowly trudged up the steps and into the darkened hallway. While fitting her key into the lock, she heard a door farther down the hall close softly. For only a minute she wondered about the occupants of the other two apartments in the building.
The window in Kathleen’s one-room efficiency apartment looked down onto the alley. She went there now an
d stood gazing at the bleak landscape. Her head was pounding. She wanted desperately to cry but refused herself the luxury.
She had come to Rawlings as soon as her job at the plant had been eliminated. It had been a couple of miserable weeks, made more so by living in this dark, dreary place. She could not write here. Her imagination refused to function. She longed for the bright and cheery room she had at the ranch, where she could look out onto the wide stretches of grassland and envision the scene she was writing about.
Where would she go when she left here? Rawlings had become home. Her friends were here. But they were Johnny’s friends, too. She hated the thought of leaving, and she hated the thought of staying and seeing him with someone else. Could they meet on the street and give each other a civilized greeting just as if they had not at one time meant the world to each other?
While she was considering her options, there was a light tap on the door. She opened it to see Barker with his hand lifted to rap again.
“Adelaide said that you were here.”
“Hello, Barker. Come in.”
“I thought you might want to get out of this rathole for a while,” he said after he entered and closed the door.
“You’re speaking of my home.” Kathleen allowed humor to surface briefly.
“Home, my hind leg. I’d not stable a horse in here.”
“Of course, you wouldn’t. You’d not be able to get him up the stairs.”
“I took Johnny out to the ranch. I didn’t stay.”
“How did he … seem?”
“Quiet. But then he’s always been quiet around me. He never mentioned … anyone.”
“Did you expect him to?”
“I thought he might.” Barker noticed the tired lines in her face and the circles beneath her eyes.
“He’ll not have a way to get back to town or down to the McCabes’ to get his horses.”
“In the morning I’ll drive out in my truck and leave it for him to use until he gets something. Marie will follow and bring me back.”
“That’s good of you, Barker. I’d offer the Nash, but more than likely he’d not take it.”
“He may not accept the truck from me. Do you want to go out with me?”
“No. I’ll wait for him to come to me. He will when he is ready.”
“Are you sure he wants out of the marriage?”
“I’m sure. Before he left he told me to file for divorce, and I never heard one word from him all the time he was gone. He couldn’t have made it plainer than that.”
“He’s a fool to let you go.”
“You’re a dear man, Barker. I wish things were different between you and Johnny.”
“He thinks that I deserted him even though I didn’t know he existed until he was twenty years old. It took me years to find him.” Barker folded his arms across his chest as he sometimes did when he was in a serious mood. “He didn’t have a pleasant childhood living with that … woman.”
“You can say it outright, Barker. She was a whore. Johnny said she was one because that was what she wanted to be. I’ve thought about it a lot. You’ve done your part to make it right. It’s up to Johnny now.”
“He tolerates me. It’s more than he did at first.”
“He wants to like you. His darn pride gets in the way.”
“Are you going to stay here in Rawlings, Kathleen?”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“I want to show you a house. You can’t stay in this place. I won’t allow it.”
“And I’ll not allow you buy me a house, Barker. You know that.”
“The tannery owns the house. One of the men left, and we don’t plan to replace him. The house will stand empty or be rented out. I’d rather you rent it.”
“How much is the rent?”
“Ten dollars a month. You’ll have to pay your gas and electric. That’s another five a month. Telephone, and there is one already installed, will be another couple of dollars. But what the hell, you’ll be rich as soon as you finish your book.”
“Not unless friends like you buy a trainload.”
“I just might do that and give one to everyone in the state. Not every man has a daughter-in-law who is an author.”
“I may not be your daughter-in-law much longer. Johnny will want this thing settled.”
“You’ll always be my daughter, little redbird.” Barker’s hand reached out and stroked her shining hair. He seldom touched her. It was at times like this when he most revealed his Indian heritage. His handsome coppery features looked as if they were chiseled in stone.
“Thank you.” Kathleen turned away so that he’d not see the tears that came suddenly to her eyes.
“Get your coat. It’s cold when the sun goes down. I want to show you the house.”
“We won’t be gone that long, will we?”
“We will, if you come home with me for supper.”
“All right. I don’t think I could face an evening alone tonight.”
The watcher in the upstairs window had opened the door a crack after Kathleen and Barker passed it. He saw them walk down the front stairs, then hurried to the window to watch them cross the street to where the Indian had parked his car. He knew that the Indian was her father-in-law and that he owned the tannery. The watcher took the stairs two at a time; and by the time Barker had backed out of his parking space, he was in his own car.
I’ll write down in my observation diary that she wore a blue dress today and that for a while I stood close behind her at the depot. I was so close that I could smell the lemon rinse on her hair. I managed to touch her back. She didn’t know that it was me, didn’t even look my way. All her attention was on that son of a bitch that got off the train.
The small, square, three-room house sat on the edge of town. Kathleen was surprised that it was in such good condition and that it had a large, freshly painted bathroom. The tub, lavatory, and toilet were like new. The hot-water heater was in a closet on the back porch and had a thermostat so that she would have hot water all the time.
“The furnishings were for sale,” Barker said. “I bought the lot for twenty-five dollars. You can have them for that. I don’t intend to make a profit off my daughter.”
“You’re kidding!”
“About making a profit?” His dark eyes twinkled at her.
“No. That you paid twenty-five dollars for all this.”
“He was in a hurry to leave and couldn’t take them with him.”
Kathleen’s eyes swept over the upright stove, the small icebox, and the kitchen table and chairs. In the bedroom was a brass bed and a dresser with a hinged mirror. The front room had a brown-leather couch, a chair, and a library table. The carpet on the floor was maroon and of good quality.
Barker wasn’t looking at her. Kathleen knew immediately that he had paid more than twenty-five dollars for the furnishings. She thought about the fact for a moment and decided to accept the gift graciously and not to question him about it.
“Who do I pay the rent to?”
“The tannery.”
“I’ll take it, and I thank you for thinking of me. I wish that I could move in tonight, but tomorrow will have to do.”
“After we take the truck out to Johnny, Marie and I will come by and help you move.”
“You’d better be careful, Barker. I might start thinking that you’re about the nicest man I ever met.”
“Ah … Chief Wonderful. I like the sound of it.” He smiled, and his dark eyes shone with pleasure.
Kathleen had been at the Fleming ranch many times, but only once since her return from Oklahoma City. The ranch house and outbuildings were a reflection of the owner, richly furnished without seeming to be so. Orderly and well tended, the one-story house appeared to have no inside walls because one room flowed into another.
The Flemings were proud of their heritage. Indian art covered the walls and Indian-designed rugs, the floors. It was a lived-in house with comfortable leather couches and chairs a
nd a large fieldstone fireplace.
Barker’s father had amassed a fortune in oil, cattle, packing plants, and tanneries, making his family one of the richest in the state. The ranch and the tannery were Barker’s special responsibility. He ran both with an easy hand, having learned the value of delegating authority to responsible people.
His home was managed by Thelma Fisher, a distant relative who had lived with them for years, and Marie, who had graduated from high school, but had not the desire, as had her two older sisters, to go on to college. Janna, 15, and Lucas, 12, went to school in Rawlings.
Kathleen was greeted warmly by Marie.
“Daddy told us he’d try to get you to come for supper.”
“He didn’t have to try very hard.”
Kathleen was fond of the small girl with the dark hair and coppery skin. Marie was a born homemaker, eager to have a home and children of her own. While waiting for the right man to come along, she was content to live in her father’s house and help tend to her siblings.
“Hello, Mrs. Fisher.” Kathleen spoke to the woman who came to the dining room with another place setting.
“How ye been doing, Kathleen?”
“All right. You?”
“I be all right.” Mrs. Fisher, who came from the Scottish side of the family, adopted the dress of the Cherokee while she was at the ranch. Today her loose brown dress hung from her shoulders to just inches above her beaded moccasins; but when she went to church in town, she dressed as stylishly as any woman there. “Get washed up, Lucas,” she called. “Your daddy will be here in a minute.”
“Hello, Kathleen.” The boy who stuck his head out of the kitchen door to speak could have been Johnny at that age. He was handsome, and his straight black hair framed a serious face.
Barker came to stand behind his chair at the head of the table. He had put on a fresh shirt, and his newly combed hair hung to his collar.
“Where’s Janna?”
After the Parade Page 3