Circles in the Sand

by D. Sallen

  Clint pulled into the state police parking lot. He didn’t see any Jeeps. Jewel went inside with him. After looking at Clint’s driver’s license, the trooper on duty told him the Jeep was in the lot directly behind. Clint started it up and drove around to the front. “Doesn’t seem any worse for its arrest. Think you can find your way back to Gilman’s from here?”

  Jewel slid into the driver’s seat and said, “No sweat, Chief. I could drive back there blindfolded.”

  “Forget that. Straight back and don’t drive into any ditches.”

  Jewel gave him the thumbs up sign and drove away. Glad they didn’t ask for my driver’s license.

  Back on the street toward the dance hall, Dorris said, “I’m sure glad he isn’t driving back with us. He’s a fresh little thing.”

  “Oh?”

  “I know we were packed in pretty tight. But no mater how I tried to move my leg or hip away from his, I couldn’t.”

  “Sitting next to such a lovely woman probably shook him up.”

  “Shook him up? He’s a hot horny little twerp. Every time we bounced on the dirt road he brushed his arm against the side of my breast. And…I s’pect he was even more excited than that!” Dorris didn’t explain her last remark.

  “I’ll be darned. And some of the guys think he’s queer.”

  “I very much doubt it.”

  Basil Tree drank beer at the bar adjoining the dance hall. Since the State Police hadn’t asked for him, and Radecker doubted there would be much investigation, Fritz Deutsch sent word to Tree he could come back and take a break, go to Glasgow if he wanted. Basil wanted. After nurse-maiding dusty steers, Basil really wanted this beer.

  What he didn’t want, was the sight of Clint and Dorris finding a table on the far side of the room. That Air Force sonovabitch…and with Dorris Gilman. The bastard. Did Fritz know they’d be up here? Probably. Must want me to spoil his fun. How? Could be tricky, Mrs. Gilman with him. Got to figure something.

  Ever aware of his surroundings, Clint said, “Basil Tree is sitting at the bar over here.”

  “I can see him now. I wonder if he’s seen us.”

  “Probably.”

  “I hope he doesn’t come over here. I’ve never liked him. He’s too darn rough.”

  “I’m not fond of him either…one of Fritz Deutsch’s wolves.”

  “You’ve had some trouble with him already?”

  “Nothing real serious…he’s more obnoxious than trouble.”

  As the waitress approached their table, Clint said, “What would you like to drink?”

  “Do they have mixed drinks here? I haven’t had a gin and tonic in ages.” Clint ordered one for her and a bottle of Coors for himself. By the time they finished their drinks, they could hear the band start up in the dance hall. Dorris tapped her foot in time with the music.

  “Well, let’s go cut a rug, or what ever they do here in Outer Montana,” Clint said.

  When they stood up, Dorris took Clint’s hand and dance-stepped him into the hall. He swung her out onto the dance floor and they moved smoothly into a two-step. Observing the band in their western clothes, Clint figured Stardust was probably just an opening number, and that many to follow would be country-western. He was right, but found they could dance to most of them. Dorris would hardly let him sit down to enjoy another beer. When she did, a man in a loud cowboy shirt came up to their table.

  “Doris Gilman. I haven’t seen you in years. How are ya.”

  “Donny McCune! I’m glad to see you again. This is Clint Greybull, my date.”

  Clint stood to shake hands. “Glad to meetcha,”

  Donny said. “We’ve known each other since I was a kid. You mind if I dance with her.”

  “No, go right ahead. You two probably got a lot to talk about.”

  Watching them dance, Clint observed they couldn’t talk too much. For one thing the band was too loud for conversation. Donny kept her out there for the next set, which didn’t bother Clint. He liked to dance with a woman, but tonight he figured Dorris was letting off a lot of steam after being widowed for five years.

  Looking around for another woman to dance with, he could see that solo women were marked by their absence. Trying to break in every once in awhile, half-a-dozen stags hung around one corner. They watched Dorris with marked appreciation. And no wonder. We’re probably overdressed. In her cocktail dress, Dorris was the belle of the ball. Most of the guys, if they wore jackets, must have shucked them. Don’t blame them. Downright hot in here now. Clint hung his own jacket over the back of his chair. He pulled Dorris’ chair for her when Donny returned her. Donny offered to shake hands again. “I sure thank ya for letting me cut in. See ya around.”

  “Anytime, Donny,” Clint said. “He seems like a nice guy. I just hope you don’t have a school reunion here tonight.”

  “Clint you’re not jealous of Donny, are you? He’s too young for me. I expect you know his parents.”

  “I’m jealous of anybody who looks at you.”

  Dorris put her hand on his wrist. “Oh come on now.” Her face aglow. “This is our first date. You hardly know me.”

  Well, I’d sure like to get to know you better. But all he did was grunt and say, “Lets dance… before I have to set up a priority line…among all those young cowboys that have an eye on you.”

  After two sets, Clint led her back to the table, and caught the waitresses eye. He wanted another beer and got a third gin and tonic for Dorris. After he paid for them, he said, “I’ve got to see a man about a horse.” Chuckling, “Will you still be here when I get back?”

  “Of course, silly.” Smiling, “I need a ride home, remember?”

  Glad she had a sense of humor, Clint headed for the men’s room. Watching a fight, by two men grappling on floor near the toilet, delayed Clint’s return. Sure enough, Dorris was dancing with Donny again. I guess I can’t object to that. He sat down.

  “What’s the matter, fly boy. Can’t keep a halter on your date?” Basil Tree flopped into Dorris’ chair.

  “Buzz off Tree. We’re doing fine without your company.”

  “Hey now, that ain’t very neighborly.” Beer-thick tongued, “I might want to dance with Misses Gilman too.”

  “You’re so drunk you can hardly walk, much less dance.”

  “Bull shit. Drunk or sober, I can do anything you can do, an do it a hell of a lot better.”

  “Speaking of bull shit, Tree. You’re full of it. You don’t have the balls to do anything I can do.”

  “You son of a bitch!” Tree grabbed his bottle by the neck and with beer pouring over himself, stood to bash Clint with it.

  Clint lurched up from his chair, blocked Tree’s arm above the elbow, drove his fingers into Basil’s stomach. Tree sat down and barfed all over himself. Before he could do anything else, two husky cowboys grabbed him by the arms and threw him outside. Lying in the parking lot, Tree’s muddled thinking tumbled back and through his mind: I’ll get that sonovabitch…get that sonovabitch…get even…got his rifle…pin for that negra.

  Arriving after it was all over, and the floor mopped up, Dorris laughing said, “Goodness sakes Clint. I can’t leave you for a minute without you getting in trouble. I swear I won’t leave your side again.”

  It was Clint’s turn to laugh. “Now you show up to save me. In the meantime, Donny, thanks for protecting her while I was gone.” Donny waved and walked away.

  The dancing drawing to a close, Dorris stayed in Clint’s arms until the band finished with Good Night Ladies. After three gin and tonics, the music, and the dancing movement in Clint’s arms, Dorris was loose as a goose. By the last note Dorris and Clint had melted together as close as two people with clothes on could.

  Disengaging, Clint led her to his truck and lifted her in. Clint felt sick. I could have
her now…if I’d put her in the camper…and it would be okay…for now. Oh my God, Oh my God. A memory of Miriam in bed clouded his thoughts. Do I owe Miriam anything? Hell, she cheated on her husband…Yeah with me. Screwing Dorris make me unfaithful to Miriam? Do I care? She’s gone…probably for good. Reluctantly he closed the passenger side door. He snapped his finger through his trousers against the head of his erection.

  He slid under the steering wheel and grabbed the gear shift. Only then did he dare look at her. She slouched slanted back over the seat with her head supported at the back, and almost touching his shoulder, her legs apart. Her face turned toward him. She saw him through slanted eyes, a small smile on her lips. He started the truck. She gathered herself together and sat close to him.

  Clint awoke to hear his door opening. Someone came in and cautiously approached his bed. Not seriously alarmed, Clint still prepared to jump up and attack the intruder. Before he could move, someone lifted his sheet, slipped in beside him. A soft warm feminine form snuggled up to him. He sucked in her fragrance. He wasn’t too surprised…he knew Dorris had the hots for him. Her head was tilted up for a kiss. Clint slid his right arm under her. His left cupped her buttock. He tightened his arms around her, pulled her beasts up tight to him, “Huh?” The slender woman in his bed could not be Dorris! For a few seconds Clint froze. Reluctantly…his will power overruled his erection. Gasping, Clint pushed her aside, sprang out of bed and turned on the light.

  “Lorena” he croaked…”Are you crazy? Get out of here!” He wrenched open the door. “Get out…GET OUT! You want to see me in jail for the rest of my life?”

  Lorena, in bra and panties, crying, got out of Clint’s bed just as Dorris appeared in the hallway. “What on earth is all the noise…” Lorena clumped out of Clint’s bedroom. “Lorena! What are you doing here? Oh my God!…” Clint’s erection was apparent inside his shorts. She wrapped Lorena in her arms. “Clint, what have you DONE TO MY DAUGHTER?… Oh, I’ll KILL YOU!”

  Clint backed away from the two women. “Hey, hold on a minute, Dorris. I haven’t done a thing to Lorena. Ask her. I’d no more touch her than my own daughter. You tell your mother, Lorena.” If she were my daughter, I’d sure tan her hide.

  Lorena, in her mother’s arms, sobbed too hard to articulate words. She shook her head, mumbled, “Uh uh.” Dorris brought her down to her own room. Clint followed. Dorris said, “I believe you, Clint. Please leave us alone now. I’ll get this all straightened out.”

  In Dorris’ room, she washed her daughter’s face and tried to calm her down. “When you quit crying, you have to tell me what is going on.” Looking for any sign of blood, or semen, surreptitiously, she examined her daughter’s panties and thighs. If she’s lost her virginity, it wasn’t tonight.

  “Lorena, I have to know what you were dong in Sergeant Greybull’s room. You didn’t have any reason to be there. What on earth were you thinking?”

  Lorena played with the elastic on her panties. She held her head down away from her mother. “It was dark in his room. I didn’t say anything. I wanted him to think I was you.”

  “What? Dear child, are you out of your mind? Why would you do that?”

  Lorena held her head up. “He likes you. I know he does. But you went in opposite directions when you came in. If he thought he slept with you in the dark…then he’d feel he had to marry you.”

  “Oh my God in heaven. Suppose he doesn’t want to marry me? Suppose he got you pregnant? Then what would you do?”

  Lorena mumbled some more. Then struck with another thought she smiled. “If I had his baby, you’d raise it, wouldn’t you?”

  “Huh?” For a moment Dorris was stunned. Sighing, she said, “You’d better start thinking straight. If you had pulled off this little stunt, do you have any idea what would happen to Sergeant Greybull?”

  “He’d have to marry you?”

  “From his jail cell in Fort Leavenworth? If he slept with a fourteen year old girl, that’s were he would be. You didn’t think about that, did you?

  “Lorena, I love you deeply. You’re my daughter. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, but you better calm down and start using your head. My God. I nearly did what she did. I wanted too…and she beat me to it… Just as well I didn’t…wasn’t it?

  Sunday morning, last night’s late participants avoided each other. The cook handled all the breakfast chores. With few people eating early, he had no problem. If the Gilman ladies ate any breakfast, it was in their rooms when the cook headed that way with a tray. They could walk to church leaving the hotel by the front door. Both Clint and Dorris wondered what they could say to each other when they finally met, as they must. She and Lorena hadn’t said much to each other either.

  Dorris hoped going to church would clear her thinking. She was less tormented by Lorena and her adventure with Clint, than with her own feelings about Clint. She had such a good time with him, by the time they got to his truck, she was certain he was excited as she was. She wanted him to take her. She didn’t care about anything else then. Nothing else mattered. She just wanted him to fuck her. In daylight she was appalled at herself even thinking that word, much less wanting it. But he didn’t do it. He probably couldn’t in the truck…in the parking lot. She expected they would have got in the camper. But they didn’t, nor did they park somewhere along the way. The extent of their sexual encounter was a somewhat casual good night kiss at the door to her quarters.

  Maybe he doesn’t like me as much as I thought he did. But I was his to take. I was sure he knew it. Why didn’t he? What held him back? Was there something about Clint I didn’t know? Did he have some kind of hang-up. Surely he isn’t queer. Did thoughts of a girlfriend in Grand Eclipse restrain him? These thoughts tormented her throughout the night. In church she felt guilty about having such emotions and thoughts.

  By passing up sex with Dorris, Clint’s thoughts troubled him too. Damn, have I become such a puritan that I wouldn’t fuck her on our first date? Or was I afraid…afraid of it being a one-night stand…of insulting someone I really like…if she objected? I know she wanted it though. Maybe too, I was held back because it would drastically change our relationship here. Also, maybe as close as we are here, that our having sex would have implied a commitment I’m not ready for. She may not be ready for it either. Damn. Why couldn’t it be just screwing and nothing more?’

  Fritz Deutsch and his mother attended church on most Sundays. Occasionally they brought Fritz’s thirteen year old son Herman to Sunday school. Small for his age, the boy was considered ‘simple.’ Her anguish over Herman’s condition, and Fritz’s purchase of Marie-Elena’s virginity, had been too much for Maybelle Deutsch. She decamped. Mother Deutsch became Herman’s defacto guardian. Her love of gin defeated her aim to be a good parent.

  Because of Fritz’s church support, even though she didn’t particularly like him, Dorris always acted cordial to him. Today, when the service was over, he made a point of seeking her outside the church. “Dorris, it isn’t any of my business, but I hear that Sergeant Greybull is trying to get close to you. Those fly-boys have pretty bad reputations around women, so please be careful. You notice there’s none of them in church. What does that tell you?”

  “Well, they work some strange hours, Mr. Deutsch, but I’ll keep your advice in mind.” He’s a fine one to be giving advice about anything, the rat.

  Fritz tipped his Stetson and walked away.

  During the early afternoon, in their quarters, Lorena sat down with her mother. “Mom, I’m sure sorry about what I did Saturday night. That really was pretty stupid of me. I sure wish I hadn’t done it.”

  Dorris felt sorry for Lorena, but she wouldn’t let her off the hook that easy. “Yes, to everything you just said. You can’t erase it. I just hope you learned something from it.”

  “I know. I have to think before I act. Ohhh, I ‘m so sorry, Mom. Do you forgive
me?”

  “Yes, you know I do. Are you going to tell Sergeant Greybull that you’re sorry?”

  Lorena broke down, and crying, looked for her mother to hug her. When she quit sobbing. “How can I tell him I’m sorry? I’m afraid to even look at him now. He must think I’m an awful bubble head.”

  “Probably. But I believe he is such a good man, he won’t be mad with you…for long.”

  “But what should I do?”

  “Just act normal. I bet he’ll come around friendly with you. After he does, when you think you’ve got control of your emotions, then tell him you are sorry. He’ll probably be very kind.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. How can I even look at him now? Will you tell him I’m sorry?”

  “Oh no, darling girl. This is your problem to solve.”

  Neither of the Gilmans appeared at lunch or supper. The cleaning lady handed all of the waiting and busing. At breakfast Monday the same crew worked the restaurant.

  At work, Clint told the troops assembled in Q-1, “Now that we have a sprayer, lets see how it works. Alcocke and Kline can take turns operating the spay hose.”

  “How come we get to do all the dirty work?” Kline said.

  With a mild expression, Clint said, “There’ll be plenty of dirty work for everyone before we’re through at this place. But if I assigned the corporals to do it before you, you’d never make any effort to become corporals, would you? You’d figure what’s the use if I still get the dirty work first.”

  Alcocke groaned. “That’s just a nice way of saying we’re on the bottom of the food chain.”

  Clint and the other NCOs laughed. “Have it your way.”