“She wanted me to put her egg in a safe place so it wouldn’t be broken.”
“Not much chance of that. It’s been boiled.” He got to his feet. Margie thought he was leaving, but he came to where she sat on the fender and held out his hand.
“Sit in the car with me for a while. We’ll leave both doors open so we can hear Anna Marie if she wakes.”
She ignored his hand and said, “No,” shaking her head at the same time.
“Please.” The softly spoken word coming from him shocked her. She looked up at the dark blur that was his face. “I want to tell you about Brian and Becky and how I came to have Anna Marie.”
“You can tell me here. I don’t think it’s a good idea to get in the car with you.”
“Do you think that I’m going to force myself on you? I’ve told you that I’m sorry about what happened that night in Oklahoma City. Don’t you believe me?”
“Yes, I believe that you’re sorry now, but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen again.”
“Oh, Lord. I didn’t realize that I had hurt you so much.”
“The words hurt more than the rough treatment.”
“I don’t even remember what I said. Whatever it was, I said it in the heat of anger.”
“Oftentimes people blurt out their innermost feelings when they are angry.”
“Can’t you forget it so we can start over?”
“I can’t forget it. But if you like, we can start over. I don’t want to be at loggerheads with anyone as I was with Elmer all my life. And I do appreciate all that you’ve done to help me these last few days.”
“I need no thanks for that.”
“You might not need them, but I need to offer them anyway.”
“Deke said that you are one of a kind, and I believe him. If we are going to let the sleeping dog lie, come sit with me. You can call it a test … of sorts.”
She was as surprised as he was when she accepted the hand he offered. She found herself walking beside him, her hand engulfed in a large, warm one.
“What else did Deke tell you?”
“He said that you had a lot of love to give someone and the man who got it would be a lucky son of a bitch. His words exactly.”
“I wish I could have loved him the way a woman loves her special man. He is one of the most caring, unselfish people I’ve ever known.”
“He’ll meet someone someday who will realize that. My mother said that God made a woman for every man and that he made her for my father.”
“What a sweet thing to say.”
“He loved her very much and didn’t last very long after she died.”
Brady opened the passenger side of his car and left the door open after Margie had gotten in. He went around to the driver’s side and slid in under the wheel.
“If it gets too windy, close the door.”
“I hadn’t visualized the land here in the Texas Panhandle as so flat and treeless.”
“It is that. I prefer mountains and valleys.”
“Is your ranch on a mountain?”
“It’s in a lush, green valley. The grass at times comes up to the horses’ bellies.”
“Who do you sell your horses to?”
“Mostly other ranchers. Some go to the army. I also run a few hundred head of steers. They are what pay the bills.”
Margie was surprised that she was so comfortable with him. They were quiet for a long while before Margie spoke.
“It’s been strange without Elmer. Somehow I keep thinking that he’ll show up and tell me to get out of his truck.”
“I know the feeling. I kept thinking that Brian would walk in the door. It wasn’t until Anna Marie and I drove away from the house that I felt that it was over, that he was really gone.” He put a cigarette in his mouth, flipped the head of the match with his thumbnail and lit it.
“When we get to a town that’s big enough to have a shoe store, will you help me pick out shoes for Anna Marie?”
“Sure. She’s a smart little thing … for her age.”
“Is she? I’ve not been around enough children to know.”
“The people I worked for had a boy and a girl. They were six and eight. Anna Marie is very bright. She acts as mature as the eight-year-old.”
“She talks about you a lot. She’s not been around many young women her mother’s age. The woman Brian hired to take care of her was a grandmother. When Anna Marie wasn’t with Brian, she was with her. She may have thought all young women were mean like her mother.”
“Well, for crying out loud. I certainly hope that your brother set her straight about that.”
“He tried. When I think of how he died, it almost tears me apart.” Brady rushed on, hurrying to say what he wanted to say. “He was my twin. We looked exactly alike except for the scar in Brian’s eyebrow. That’s how the teacher told us apart. We even fooled our pa sometimes. We were always together. After the folks died it was just the two of us. We worked together, had fun together, without a thought that someday there would be only one of us left.
“Then he married Becky.”
Margie watched Brady’s large hands grip the steering wheel and knew that talking about his brother was painful. When one of his hands left the wheel and groped for hers, she put her hand in it.
“He loved Becky with all his heart from the time we were fourteen. He could see no other girl but her. She led him a merry chase through school and afterward. She was a goodtime girl: loved to go to parties, dances, smoke cigarettes and drink bootleg whiskey. But she always kept Brian on the string. I think she married him to get away from home. Her folks were clamping down on her. Brian thought that she would settle down once they had a family.
“She did for a while. She hated being pregnant. Brian did everything for her. He was thrilled over Anna Marie. Becky never wanted to have much to do with her. Brian named her Anna after our grandma and Marie after our mother.”
“Was your brother a rancher?”
“No. With the money we got from our parents and grandparents he bought a newspaper in a little town in Kansas. Becky didn’t want to move, but she did; and it wasn’t long until she had a circle of wild friends and fell back into her same old pattern. Foley’s wife reminds me of her, but Becky wasn’t as pretty or as flirty. If Brian knew she was messing around with other men, he never let on.”
“What about you at that time? Did you go to Kansas?”
“No. I took my money and went west. It meant that Brian and I would be separated for the first time. But he had a wife who didn’t like me much, and I couldn’t abide her. It was best that I go my way and Brian go his. During the four years I was in Colorado I came back several times.
“Then I got a letter from Brian saying that he was about to lose the paper because he couldn’t give it the time it needed. He didn’t mention Becky, but I knew by the tone of the letter that she was at the root of his problems and that he was in a terrible state of depression. I got on the train the day I received the letter and got there an hour too late.”
Margie didn’t know what to say. She heard the pain in his voice and desperately wanted to say something to comfort him. She took his hand in both of hers, drew it into her lap and held it tightly.
“Brian went home and found her in his bed with a man he thought was his friend. He killed both of them. I met him coming out of the house with Becky’s body in his arms. He went to the barn and killed himself.” Brady drew in a deep breath. “I never knew anything could hurt so much. It was like a knife had cut out part of my heart.”
“I can imagine. It must have been unbearable.”
“He asked me what he had done wrong that would cause his Becky to hurt him so. What could I tell him? He had wasted his life loving a woman who wasn’t worth spit.”
“Was there no one else to take Anna Marie?”
“Becky’s folks had washed their hands of Becky and didn’t even come to the funeral. She had one old-maid aunt. But after I looked her over I wouldn’t leave
a sick pup with her. So I wrote to Opal, Becky’s sister. She wrote back and said to bring her out.”
“She may be just the thing for Anna Marie.”
“And she may not. If I remember correctly, she was a year or two younger than Becky and had left home before she did. The aunt who gave me her address seemed to think that she was all right, although I heard Brian say something to the effect that her husband was a scalawag who couldn’t hold a job. I’ve grown so attached to the little mite that I don’t know if I’ll be able to give her up even if Opal is a saint.”
“When the time comes, you’ll do what’s best for Anna Marie.”
“I’m afraid that I’ll be selfish and want to keep her with me, even if I can’t give her the life someone else could give her.”
“Do you think someone else will love her more than you do? Take better care of her?” Margie could feel each time he looked at her and then away.
“No. She’s all I have left of my brother … my family. But I’ve learned on this trip that I don’t know much about how to take care of a little girl. She’s even embarrassed to tell me when she needs to go to the outhouse.”
“Couldn’t you hire someone to take care of her? Her father did.”
“I live ten miles from town. Two Indian families and one Mexican family live there on the ranch. My house is just a rough cabin. I was going to fix it up this year, but I’ve spent my money going back to Kansas and on this trip to California. After paying Brian’s bills, all that was left was this car.”
“Anna Marie might prefer living in a rough cabin where she is loved to living in a nice house where she is an outsider.”
“But she’s too young to make that decision.”
The logic of his statement left Margie with nothing to say. The silence between them stretched into frozen moments in time—two people sitting in the dark. She looked out the car window into a sky studded with a million stars. The moon, looking like a big yellow balloon, was hanging high above the burned-out house. The crying of a child from one of the other camps, then the barking of a dog, broke the stillness. Brady brought her hand to the seat between them and laced his fingers with hers.
“My ranch is about three hundred miles north of Albuquerque.” He finally spoke, leaving his statement hanging in the air.
Margie hesitated, then said, “You could turn off there. It would save you miles and … time. Alvin and Grace would take Anna Marie on to her aunt in California. They are going to Bakersfield.”
Slowly he turned his head and looked at her. “If I turn off at Albuquerque, Anna Marie will be with me.” He continued to look at her.
Margie with the big sad eyes, I wish that I dared to ask you to go with me. But in a way you are like Becky. She had her heart set on having a good time. You’ve got yours set on seeing Hollywood and would laugh if I asked you to live with me on an isolated horse ranch.
“You’ve got two or three days to make up your mind.” She wiggled her hand out of his and slid out of the car. “I’d better turn in if we’re going to leave at dawn.”
Brady met her in front of the car and took her arm. “Thank you for being with me and being such a patient listener.”
She wasn’t sure what to say, so she said nothing. At the end of the truck they stopped and looked steadily at each other. Even though it was dark, the force of his eyes held her as firmly as if he held her with his hands. It had been pleasant being with him. She had not felt in the least threatened.
He was a hard man, but he had soft spots too. He had loved his brother, and, whether he was aware of it or not, he loved his brother’s child.
“Would you like me to light the lantern?”
“No.” She laughed lightly. “My night vision has improved lately.”
“Well, good night.”
“Good night.”
Margie lay awake for a long time thinking about Brady Hoyt and what had made him the kind of man he was.
Margie was up and dressed when dawn began to light the eastern sky.
Anna Marie was still asleep when Brady came for her. Margie held her while he put her mattress back in his car. She wished with all her heart that she could keep this child with her forever. How wonderful it would be to have someone of your very own to love and to watch grow. She was unaware that Brady stood at the end of the truck until she lifted her head after placing a kiss on Anna Marie’s forehead.
He stepped up on the box and reached for the child. It was too dark to see his eyes, but Margie felt them on her face. He gently lifted the little girl out of her arms, then stood for a long moment looking at her, the sleeping child between them.
“We’ll stop for gas in Amarillo,” he said.
“All right.”
“See you then.”
The headlights shone on the back of Alvin’s truck as Margie and Jody left the campground. As soon as the sky was light enough that Jody could see, he turned them off.
“Brady said the lights were a drain on the battery.”
“How is your father doin’?” Margie asked.
“All right. He’s worried about Sugar. He doesn’t want anything bad to happen to her.”
“Elmer’s wife ran off and left him too. I don’t know what made her go, but I do know that he must have been hard to live with.”
“Pa was too good to Sugar. He tried hard to give her everything she wanted. He thinks now that she was just using him to get to California.”
“But he’s married to her. She could step in and take everything he has if anything happened to him.”
“Pa knows that. He said that when we get to California, he’ll see if he can get something called an annulment because she ran off and left him.”
Sugar woke to find herself alone in the small cabin. Light was streaming in through the window. She crawled out of the rumpled bed and went to look out. The car was gone!
“The dirty, low-life son of a bitch!”
She quickly searched the room. He had taken everything except her suitcase. He’d not left her a dime! She fumed as she dressed. He’d not get away with it. She’d go to the police and tell them that he not only kidnapped her, he forced her to help him rob those people. She’d see his sorry ass in jail!
She was putting on her lipstick when she heard a car stop, then the slamming of a door. A key rattled in the lock, then the door was flung open.
“ ’Lo, sweet thing. Didn’t expect ya to be up.” Homer came to her, grabbed the hair at the back of her head and kissed her. “Why ya got them clothes on for?”
“Where the hell have you been?”
“Takin’ care of a few things. Did ya think I run off and left ya? I took all the money so ya’d be here when I got back all warm, naked and sweet-smellin’—”
“Where’s Chester?”
“Gone home.”
“You talked him into lettin’ us keep the car?”
“Yup. We’ll get us another car license to put on it in a day or two.”
“It’s just you and me now?”
“Uh-huh.”
Sugar laughed. “Glory be! I bet old Chester didn’t want to get on that bus. Did he put up a fight?” She snuggled against him, bit him on the chin and rubbed against him.
“Not much of a fight at all. We gotta be out of here in an hour, or we’ll have to pay again. Get outta them clothes, pretty little bitch. I’m horny as a rutting moose, hard as a rock and randy as a two-peckered mountain goat.”
“I got just what ya need, my lusty stud,” she said, squeezing him.
Homer put her away from him, shed his coat and unbuttoned his shirt. He took the gun that was tucked in his belt and laid it on the scarred table, then placed a pocket watch and a wad of bills beside it.
Sugar hurriedly removed her dress and slip and sprawled naked across the bed.
“Isn’t that Chester’s watch?”
“Yeah. He gave it to me.”
Sugar waited until he was naked and crawling on top of her before she asked, “Did you do somet
hing to Chester?”
“Whatta ya care? Ya didn’t like him.”
“I didn’t like him and I don’t care.”
“Then shut up and open up.”
Later he lay on her, breathing heavily, and whispered, “Get up, ya damn beautiful bitch. We’ve got to get out to the highway so we can follow that cowboy when he comes through.”
Chapter 23
THE SMALL GAS STATION OWNER, on the western edge of Amarillo, couldn’t believe his luck when two trucks and two cars lined up and waited patiently at the pump.
After giving Jody money to pay for their gas, Margie got out of the truck and walked back and forth to limber her legs after the long ride. Brady was getting out of his car. Anna Marie was sitting in the front seat. As Margie neared, she saw that the child’s little face was wet with tears. Margie’s eyes caught Brady’s troubled gaze over the top of the car before she spoke to the child.
“What’s the matter, honey?”
“Nothin’.”
“Want a drink of water?”
“No. I want … I want—”
“Want what? What do you want, punkin?”
Before Anna Marie answered, Brady said, “She wants to ride with you. I told her that she should wait until she was invited.”
“I’m inviting her,” Margie said quickly, opened the car door and lifted the child out. When Anna Marie wrapped her arms around her neck and her legs around her waist, Margie discovered that the child’s nightgown was wet. She hid her wet face against Margie’s neck and sobbed out something Margie didn’t understand.
“Now, now, punkin. Don’t cry.” Margie turned her back to Brady, hugged and murmured to the sobbing child. “What is it, darlin’? What do you want?”
“I want … my dad … dy …”
The tearful words tore at Margie’s heart, and big tears sprang to her eyes. After a heart-stopping moment she went to the truck, which was now at the gas pump. Brady met her there, a concerned look on his face.
“Her dress is in there,” Margie said, unable to hold back the tears that leaked from the corners of her eyes.
Dorothy Garlock - [Route 66] Page 24