“You … read my stories over there?” she managed to ask, her heart thumping painfully.
“Yeah. They were pretty good.” His lips quirked a little at the corners.
He had felt a surge of pride when some of the men remarked, “That fellow Doyle writes a damn good story.” After his tentmate had taught him how to sound out words, he had read everything he could get his hands on. Practice makes perfect, Curly had said, and he had been right. During the first year, his reading had been painfully slow, but because he felt closer to her while reading her stories, he’d stuck with it. By the end of his tour of duty, he could get so immersed in a story that he didn’t want to go to his foxhole when the air-raid sirens sounded.
Johnny had intended to wait a few days before coming to see her; but when Adelaide told him where she was, he was on his way before he had given it much thought. He wanted to find out if what they once shared was still there. Now he knew that it was for him, and stronger than ever.
“I’m surprised that you got books and magazines over there.” Her voice broke into his thoughts.
“Some of the magazines were so old they were held together with tape. You had a story in an old Western Story magazine that was about to fall apart. It was called ‘Hot Lead…’ and something.”
“‘Hot Lead and Petticoats.’ It was the first story I sold. I think now that it was not very good.”
Johnny put his cigarette out in the saucer and set it on the floor. Kathleen’s eyes followed the movement and for the first time noticed that he wore black shoes.
“I’ve never seen you in anything but cowboy boots. You even wore them to our wedding.”
“You saw me at the depot when I left to go back after my leave.”
’That’s right I did.”
“I put on my boots, but they were so stiff and dried-out, I couldn’t wear them.” Dead silence followed the remark, then he said, “Thanks for washing my clothes.”
She lifted her shoulders in a noncommittal shrug and tried to think of something to say so that he wouldn’t leave. Her love for him was as intense as it had been seven years ago when they met and fell in love. At times, during the past four years, an almost unbearable longing for him had swept over her. It was more than a physical need, as it was now. Only pride kept her from throwing herself in his arms and begging him to stay with her forever.
“Eddie didn’t charge me for keeping the Nash.” The comment came from some small corner of her mind.
“He said that three of the four tires he put on for you are pretty good. The fourth one will bear watching.”
“When did you see him?”
“A little while ago. I bought a car from him. I wanted a truck, but there isn’t one to be had around here. He’s putting a hitch on behind the car so I can pull a flat rack.” He looked at the watch on his wrist. “He should be about done by now.”
“You could have had the Nash.”
He ignored the remark, stood, and reached for his hat. “The car I got isn’t much, but it’ll do for a while.”
“What do you plan to do?” Kathleen got to her feet. “Besides ranching, I mean.”
“I’ve had a couple of offers. I was discharged at the naval base at Norman. During the week I was there I called Grant Gifford. Remember him? He’s still the attorney general. He came out to the base to see me and said that he was sure that there was a place for me with the Oklahoma Highway Patrol or the Marshal’s Office, if I wanted it.”
“Do you?”
“I’ve not decided. A representative from a construction company came to the base trying to hire bulldozer operators. The pay is good, but the work is in Central America.”
Kathleen’s heart gave a sickening leap. She tried to control her sudden shivering and failed.
“Are you going?”
“I’m too glad to be home to leave right away. I’ll not have any trouble finding a job driving a bulldozer around here if I decide to do that. It stands to reason that there’ll be a building boom now that the war is over.”
“You loved the ranch.”
“It’s hard to make a living on the number of acres I have.” He stepped out onto the porch, and she followed. “I’m glad you’re doing all right. If you need anything, let me know.”
“Thanks.” Her voice was shaky.
“Half that bank account is yours and half the ranch when you’re ready to take it.”
She felt as if he had kicked her in the stomach. The strength seemed to drain out of her, and her usually straight shoulders slumped. Her mouth suddenly went dry, and she felt sick.
“I’ll never be ready to take it.” Her voice was firm and convincing. She looked down to hide the hurt he was sure to read in her eyes.
“Sure you will,” he said confidently. “You’ll take it because you’re entitled to it.”
“You’ll see.” She clamped her lips tightly together to keep from telling him to take the bank account and the ranch and shove it. Not for anything would she let him know that his words had cut her to the quick. “Are you going to see a lawyer here?”
“Why? Do you have someone on the string you’re anxious to marry?”
“I told you that I didn’t have. But this isn’t fair to you. You’ll meet someone … want a family—”
“I’ve been through that, Kathleen. Don’t be trying to arrange my life.” He stepped off the porch and headed for the truck he had parked in the road in front of the house.
“I wouldn’t even think of trying to arrange your life,” she sputtered, her head tilted proudly, but color draining from her face, a sure sign of her anger.
“No, I guess not.” He lifted his shoulders. Kathleen saw for an instant a forlorn expression on his face. It prompted her to say:
“I put a marker on Mary Rose’s grave,” she called.
He stopped and turned. “I saw it this morning. I’ll pay you for half of it.”
She was so jolted by the remark that the walls holding her emotions in check suddenly crumbled. Anger at all she had endured came boiling up out of the pit of her stomach. Words when they came, were unguarded and loud. Her voice, shrill and breathless didn’t even sound like her voice.
“You don’t owe me a blessed thing, you …horse’s ass,” she yelled not caring who heard. “You didn’t even like her! You wouldn’t even hold her. I’ll not take a penny from you for her marker. She was my baby. Mine! I was the only one who loved her, grieved for her. The great Johnny Henry, Best All-Around Cowboy, was ashamed of having a deformed daughter. Get the hell away from here and don’t come back or …I’ll get my gun out and …shoot you!”
Her eyes were fiery now. Her head felt tight, and her eyes smarted; and for the first time in her life she wanted to really lash out at someone, to do something violent. She turned and ran back into the house.
Johnny went taut as he listened to her outburst. A muscle twitched in the corner of his mouth as he stood for a minute and looked at the empty porch. Her words had shocked him. He had only offered to help pay for the marker. Why did that make her so angry?
In the house, Kathleen threw herself down on the bed and cried with deep disappointment. She had always held out a tiny hope that when Johnny came home he would tell her how sorry he was for his rejection after their-daughter was born and that he had been as hurt when they lost her as she had been. Now, she knew that it wouldn’t happen. It was over. The finality of it was crushing.
Why didn’t you take the job in Central America? I had reconciled myself to the fact that I had lost you forever and was going to go on with my life. Now…I don’t know what to do—
Chapter Four
During the week that followed, Kathleen doggedly tried to keep her thoughts from dwelling on Johnny, although twice she woke up in the middle of the night with tears on her cheeks.
She worked on her book and became immersed in the story. She concentrated on the scene she was writing, then the next scene and the next, until she had written the first chapter. She had fo
llowed the advice her editor had given her. You have only a minute or two to catch the interest of the readers. Open with a hook that will keep them reading to see what happens Scanning the typed pages, she was pleased with what she had written.
Kathleen had not left the house since Johnny’s visit, but Adelaide and Paul had been to see her, as had Barker and Marie. This morning she needed to go to the grocery store and then to the ice dock to pick up a card to put in her window so the iceman would stop. It was still warm in southern Oklahoma and would be for another month.
Her intention had been to walk to town, but noticing that one of the tires on her car was low, she decided to drive it to the station to get air before it became completely flat. She drove slowly down Main Street past the Rialto Theatre where Sergeant York was playing. She and Johnny had seen the film while she was pregnant with Mary Rose. So many memories were here. The town of Rawlings had become home to her. She would hate to leave it.
At Eddie’s station she pulled up to the air hose. A man came slouching out of the building, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He stopped in front of the car, placed his hand on the hood, and looked at her through the windshield. She looked steadily back at him. He wore a battered felt hat and his clothes were so greasy he must have been wearing them for a month. He also needed a shave. Finally he took a last puff of the cigarette, dropped it on the paving, and stepped on it.
“My front left tire is low. Will you check it, please?”
“Sure. You wantin’ gas too?”
“A couple of gallons.”
She heard the hiss as the air went into the tire, then the gas cap being removed. She reached for her purse when he came to the side of the car.
“How much?”
“Four bits. You’re Kathleen Henry, ain’t ya? Ya married Johnny Henry, then run off when he went to war. Heard ya was up in the city a raking in the dough at the airplane plant. Back for good?”
She recognized him then as a man who had been around town when she came here seven years ago. He had been one of the toughs who hung around doing as little as possible.
Kathleen ignored his question, handed him a dollar, and waited for her change.
“I ain’t blamin’ ya for leavin’ Johnny. He was a highhanded, know-it-all sonofagun. Still is, if ya ask me. Folks are fallin’ all over him ’cause he killed a few Japs.”
“What did you do during the war?” Kathleen looked straight at him, her temper overriding her desire to get away from him.
“I didn’t have to go.” He grinned, showing tobacco-stained teeth. “Draft board gave me a 4F card ’cause I got four toes shot off while I was hunting squirrels back in ’40.”
“How could you be so lucky?” she said with heavy sarcasm.
“Better’n gettin’ my legs blowed off. Cletus Birdsall came home with stumps.”
“I’d like my change, if you don’t mind.”
He pulled a handful of change from his pocket and picked around in it with greasy fingers.
“Need any help out there let me know.”
“Why would I need any help from you?”
“You’re out there in Chief Big Shot’s house, ain’t ya? It’s right on the end of town, ain’t it?”
“I rent the house from the tannery.”
“If you say so.” He let his eyelid droop in a wink and raised the corner of his mouth. “Ain’t much goes on in this town that folks don’t know.”
The gesture disgusted her. “My change?”
He dropped the change in her palm with one hand and with the other he deftly lifted the windshield wiper, unhooked it and took it off before she could start the motor.
“What are you doing?”
“Washing your windshield.” He lifted a mop on the end of a stick out of a bucket of water and slopped it on the windshield. “I danced with ya at the shindig they put on for the Claxtons when their house burned. Guess ya don’t remember?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Gabe Thomas. Does that ring a bell?” He used the squeegee to take the excess water off the windshield.
“Yes. I remember. Your name was on the police log at the city office for bootlegging and stealing gasoline. I’m surprised Eddie lets you work here.”
“I’m the best mechanic in Tillison County, that’s why.” He grinned. He seemed to be terribly pleased that she remembered him. “Ya hadn’t been knocked up when we danced.”
Kathleen’s face reflected shock on hearing his crude words. She sat tight-lipped, staring straight ahead. The instant he snapped her wiper blade back in place, she moved the car ahead so fast that he had to jump out of the way.
“Be seein’ ya,” he called.
She was so angry that she didn’t care if she ran over him when she drove out of the station. That’s what you think, you ignorant horse’s patoot.
Gabe stood in the drive and watched her until the Nash turned the corner. Yeah, babe, ya’ll be seein’ me all right. Always did want to get in yore pants. I’m thinkin’ it won’t be too hard to do. Ole Johnny broke ground, but now he’s outta the picture.
From a car parked next to the vacant lot down the street, the encounter was watched through powerful binoculars by her Guardian as the man liked to call himself. This was the first time that she’d left the house in a week. He could tell that she was agitated about something when she drove out of the filling station. He started his car and followed slowly.
Two nights ago he had given himself a treat. He had left his car on a side street, walked across a vacant field, and approached her house from the back. The kitchen window shade was halfway up and he could see her sitting in her nightdress at the table working on her manuscript. The radio was on and Eddie Arnold was singing, “I’m Alone Because I Love You.” He had become so excited he could hardly breathe when she lifted her arms, arched her back, and stretched. The gesture was so familiar it made him doubly sure that she was the one.
He watched her and daydreamed that someday he would walk into the house and she would greet him as if he belonged there. He would tell her what he had done with his inheritance, and she would be proud that he had invested it in a company selling arms to the British at the time when the world was at war and that he had made a vast amount of money. My very own dear, he would say, we car afford for you to have whatever you want.
A dog began to bark, breaking into his dream. She looked toward the window. He hurriedly backed away and went back across a field to where he’d left his car.
Months ago, when he’d discovered that she wrote stories for a Western magazine, he’d had a searcher find every magazine that had a K.K. Doyle story in it. He had read them all, over and over. He kept the magazines locked in a suitcase. They were his treasures.
The nerve of that trashy, whopper-jawed, nasty, dirty polecat, Kathleen fumed as she shifted into second gear and tramped on the gas pedal. She was so angry that the Nash went over the curb and swerved to the wrong side of the street before she realized it. Johnny would tear him apart if he knew what he had said to me. A block away, she slowed the car. Or…would he care?
The Greyhound bus had come into town and was parked in front of the drugstore. Kathleen passed it on her way to the icehouse, where she picked up a card to put in her window on delivery day. Coming back she stopped at Miller’s grocery store and was about to get out of the car when she saw Johnny come out of the store with a sack of groceries. He went to a dark sedan, said something to a woman in the front seat, then put the grocery sack in the back.
With two cars angle-parked between them, Kathleen could see only the back of the woman’s head, but she knew that she was young. Old ladies didn’t wear bleached, shoulder-length hair. Kathleen felt as if the air had been sucked from her lungs. She turned her head, hoping and praying that he wouldn’t see her, and, if he did, he’d not know that she’d seen him and…the woman.
Johnny backed the car out and drove down the street. On a sudden impulse Kathleen followed. He may be taking someone home, she reasoned,
remembering how concerned he had been for her when she first came to town. At the library corner the sedan turned south. Kathleen turned, then stopped. She could see all the way down the street to the flatlands outside of town. The sedan continued on out of town, and it was clear to Kathleen that Johnny was taking the woman out to the ranch.
She put her hands to her head, and her fingers massaged her aching temples. She was grateful that he hadn’t seen her and wouldn’t know that she had followed him.
She had thought that she would be prepared for the inevitable when it happened, but it had happened far sooner than she had expected.
Kathleen began to shake all over, and it was such a peculiar sensation that it frightened her. Fear ate into her very being. Would she never be free of this power he had to hurt her? Would she ever be able to empty her mind of Johnny and the love they had shared?
Of course not, she chided herself. Heavens! He had been a part of her life for seven years. They had made a child together. There was no way she could ever get him out of her mind. But she hoped someday to get him out of her heart.
Suddenly she was ashamed.
Where and when had she lost her pride? Johnny had made it plain that he didn’t want her, and here she was, following after him like a puppy. She stiffened her resolve to do her utmost to hide her love for him. She would never, she vowed silently, allow him to use it as a weapon against her.
The man following Kathleen stopped his car a block behind hers. He waited to see if she was going to get out and go into the library. When she didn’t, he picked up from the seat beside him what he called his observation diary and read the entry he’d made earlier.
10:30 A.M. Kathleen, Kathleen, Kathleen. I love to write her name. It is as beautiful as she is. She wore a skirt today that came to just below her knees. Thank goodness, she no longer wears that awful leg makeup she wore during the war. I hated to see her wear it, and I hated it when she wore her beautiful hair in that ugly net snood.
After the Parade Page 5