Ozark Sweetheart

by Helen Gray

  Deeply troubled that her siblings were forsaking God’s teachings and harming the reputation of their family, she had confronted them. Delmer had admitted putting the money in Mom’s purse and where he got it. He had seemed contrite, but had not promised to change. Clem had stalked away in anger.

  Callie finished hitching the team and climbed up onto the seat of the buckboard. Even though she had been shy because of her impoverished background and lack of social skills as a girl, she had shared the dreams of most of her friends and classmates—having a handsome man fall in love with her, marrying him and having a family of her own. Apparently God’s plan for her life didn’t fit those early dreams.

  So why did thoughts of Trace Gentry still make her brain turn to sawdust?

  When Callie drove the buckboard into the schoolyard, she found Trace waiting next to his truck. He came to meet her as she pulled to a stop next to the building.

  “What’s all this?” He peered over the side of the wagon bed.

  She looped the reins around the whip handle anchored at the end of the seat. “Several people stopped by this week and dropped off things they wanted to donate. Even though it’s such a short distance, I couldn’t carry it all.”

  He whistled. “I should say not. It looks like you’ve got a lot more than food there.”

  When she started to climb down, he gave her an assist. Then he took a load of clothes from the wagon. “Lead the way.”

  Callie fought to control the runaway pace of her heart as she grabbed a sack of shoes and went to open the door with the key Jolene had given her earlier in the week.

  They scooted desks around and arranged the room to display items. When that was done, Callie looked around, hands on hips, and frowned.

  “What’s the matter?”

  She did a little nose wrinkle. “We’re okay for the food, but how can we arrange the rest of this stuff? We don’t have any racks to hang the clothes on, and it’ll be chaos if people start rummaging through piles on the floor.”

  Trace considered a moment. “How about I run and get some sawhorses and boards. It won’t be as good as racks, but we can make a long table across that wall.” He pointed to the left of the front door. “You can at least fold things and keep them off the floor.”

  She nodded. “That’s a good idea. Thanks.”

  “I’ll be back soon.”

  A few minutes later Trace entered with a pair of sawhorses and positioned them next to the wall. Two men followed with a stack of boards. Within minutes they fashioned a crude table.

  “Thanks, guys,” Trace said as the men left. Then he held out his arms for the armload of clothing Callie had gathered.

  She grinned. “Let’s put male stuff at one end of the table and female at the other.”

  “Got it.” His smile was pure charm.

  He takes orders well. Callie’s mouth twitched as she watched him walk away, her heart galloping. She didn’t understand why he had gotten involved, but she appreciated his help. And him. She picked up another load and followed him.

  “I told Leon about what you saw in that hotel,” Trace said quietly as they worked. “He got back to me the next day and said the police captain in Saint Louis he talked to matched your story and the date to a killing in their files. The captain put some pictures in the mail for you to look at and see if you can identify the killer you saw. They should be here any time.”

  A band of fear squeezed her heart. “I have to identify him?”

  “If you can.”

  She swallowed and drew a deep breath. “I’ll try.”

  Jolene came rushing through the door. “Sorry I’m so late,” she apologized breathlessly. She glanced around the room. “But it looks like you have everything under control.”

  A woman walked up and handed Callie a sack of green beans. “Thank you, Mrs. Dooley.”

  The woman nodded and moved on. Callie placed the bag on the produce table. People continued to arrive. Last week’s attendance had already been surpassed, and it was only eight o’clock. Callie started to comment on that fact, but Jolene’s solemn expression kept her from it. “How’s your mother?”

  Jolene’s mouth tightened, and she shook her head. Her eyes glistened. “Not good.”

  Isabelle Delaney’s health had seemed to deteriorate more rapidly this past year. Callie wrapped her arms around her friend’s shoulder. “Is she worse?”

  Jolene’s head bobbed. “She stays in bed most of the time. Dad looks after her while Irene and I are at school. We do as much as we can after we get home.”

  Callie stroked Jolene’s hair. “You should be home now.”

  Jolene shook her head and withdrew from Callie’s arms. “I can’t let Irene stay in the house all the time. She needs to be around other children. And Dad insists we keep our lives as normal as possible as...as long as we can.” Her choked voice broke Callie’s heart.

  “You know I welcome your help, but I’ll look after things any time you need to stay home. Okay?”

  Jolene nodded.

  “Hello, Miss Delaney.” Trace held out a hand. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  Jolene gave him a wan smile. “You’re a welcome pair of hands, Trace. Callie and I appreciate it.”

  “Pleased to help. I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. I hope your mother gets to feeling better.”

  “Me, too.” Jolene swallowed and blinked back tears.

  Callie’s attention was drawn to the doorway as Marshal Leon Gentry came through it and headed toward them.

  “Glad to find both you girls here. Miss Jolene, I hope your mother is better.”

  Jolene shrugged. “She needs a lot of prayer.”

  “She’s on my list.” His attention switched to Callie. He reached inside his light jacket and pulled out a large envelope. “I have some pictures I want you and Trace to look at. They just arrived from Saint Louis today.” He handed it to her.

  With Trace looking over her shoulder, so close his breath tickled her ear, and Jolene standing silently by, Callie pulled half a dozen photographs from the envelope. She flipped through them one by one, and then stopped to stare at the face she could not erase from her memory. Those cold eyes bored right through her from the paper. Her lungs constricted until she could hardly breathe. She looked up at Leon, gnawing her lip in indecision. Then she placed it on top of the stack and pointed. “That’s him.”

  “He’s the man I saw here at the school last Saturday,” Trace added.

  Leon’s mouth formed a line that reminded Callie of a bent straw. “His name is Boomer Dutton. The Saint Louis police suspect he killed the man found dead in that hotel. He must have finally made a connection between the Cal who worked at the hotel and Callie who worked at the boardinghouse.”

  “But how would he have done that?” Trace asked.

  Leon grimaced. “The police talked to the landlady, and she said a woman tried to rent a room from her a while back. Said she seemed real disappointed that there were none empty, but she was real chatty and said her friend Cal had recommended the boardinghouse.”

  Flashes of memory came to Callie. “Did Mrs. Thompson describe the woman? Did she wear a lot of beads and have bobbed hair dyed black?”

  Leon nodded. “That’s her.”

  Callie drew a deep breath. “It was Valerie Crandall. She works in the hotel office. I heard some of the other workers talking one day, and someone said her boyfriend was a gangster. It must have been Mr. Dutton they were talking about.”

  “When the woman said she wondered where her friend Cal had gone,” Leon continued, “the landlady thought it was an affectionate nickname for you and said she supposed you must have gone back to Deer Lick.”

  “And finding your home would have been easy once Dutton knew your hometown,” Trace added.

 
Leon nodded again. “Although he may be in the area to silence you, I can’t help wondering if he’s tapping local sources of booze while he’s here.”

  Callie frowned and raked a finger over her lower lip. “You think there are already Saint Louis buyers doing business here?”

  “I’m afraid so. And competition is fierce. If another outfit learned of the stills in these hills, they wouldn’t hesitate to move in and set out to beat the competition.”

  This sounded scarier than ever. Callie shivered. “Do you have any idea who’s involved?”

  Leon scraped a hand across his jaw. “I wish I did. With Prohibition, producing alcohol’s illegal. We find stills and destroy them, but new ones pop up. Someone’s helping the locals stay in business. I’d sure like to figure out who. But that’s my problem. Yours is to stay as invisible as possible and hope this guy buys the story that your brothers are no longer around.”

  Callie handed the pictures back to him. “I’ll be careful. I am being careful. That’s why I wore this ugly bonnet today.”

  He tucked the envelope back in his pocket, said, “Thanks,” and left.

  The day was a bigger success than they could have hoped for. After people cleared out, Callie eyed the surplus of items still on the tables. “What are we going to do with this stuff?”

  Jolene shook her head. “I don’t know. There’s so much of it that I don’t have any place big enough to store it while we figure out good homes for it all.”

  “You know I don’t. Our house is small, and the shed between the house and barn is full of sawmill gear and supplies. The barn has no extra space, either.”

  “There’s a room at the back of the dealership that I could empty.”

  Both girls spun to face Trace.

  “You’d do that?” Callie asked in surprise.

  He grinned. “Only if you two help load it into my truck. And you—” he indicated Callie “—ride to town with me to help me put it away.”

  “Of course we will. Won’t you, Callie?” Mischief gleamed from Jolene’s eyes.

  Callie recognized manipulation, but she couldn’t turn down such an offer. “Okay. But I’ll have to take the buckboard home first.”

  Jolene went to the door and stuck her head out. “Irene, come help us get ready to go.”

  It didn’t take them long to carry everything out and put it in the back of Trace’s truck. Irene carried her share. Then she went back outside while the adults put the room back in order.

  “We’ll see you tomorrow at church,” Jolene called through the open window of her car as she and Irene drove away.

  Callie felt awkward now that she and Trace were alone. She hesitated on the school steps.

  When he smiled at her, she wanted to turn away, to escape those penetrating blue eyes. But she had no choice but to face him and deal with the nervousness she felt just being in his presence.

  “I’ll help you hitch the horses,” he said and went to do it. After the buckboard was ready, he gave her a boost up onto the seat.

  “I’ll be right back,” Callie said as she clicked the horses into motion. She drove across the road and pulled up in front of the house just as her dad emerged from it.

  “If you’re done with them, I could use ’em.” He nodded at the buckboard and team.

  Grateful to not have to unhitch them, Callie hopped to the ground. “I need to go back to the school.” She handed him the reins and headed back across the road.

  “Come on.” Trace placed a hand across her back as he met her at the edge of the schoolyard.

  Callie nearly jumped out of her skin and set off at a pace just fast enough to get beyond his unsettling touch.

  He caught up with her and opened the truck door. She crawled inside and sat stiffly, staring straight ahead, while he went around and got behind the wheel. When his head turned, she quickly looked away, unable to maintain eye contact. Being in a confined space with him made that space feel even smaller.

  The three-mile drive was a mixed experience for Callie. Her nervousness kept her from enjoying the rare opportunity to ride rather than walk. She drew a breath of relief and hopped out of the truck when Trace parked behind the auto business.

  He removed the tarp that covered the goods in the back and handed Callie a load. Then he got his own load and led her to the back door of the building.

  “We’ll put it back here.” He reached around her to ease the door open.

  The large room they entered was clearly a junk room. Boxes and loose items were piled along one wall. A long table stretched along another. Scraps of lumber and a film of fresh sawdust littered it.

  “Looks like you’ve been working.” She indicated the sawdust.

  “I’ve got my display case framed. Hopefully I can finish it this week. Let’s pile as much as we can on here.” Trace put his load down and emptied Callie’s arms.

  It took them several minutes to get everything inside. When they finished, they both stood back and gazed around. Trace grimaced. “I’ll try to get this place a little more organized, but right now I’m hungry. How about you?”

  Callie shrugged. “Not too much. I’ll eat when I get home.”

  “Will you let me take you to the restaurant and buy you lunch?”

  She backed up a step, shaking her head. He couldn’t possibly want to be seen in public with her.

  “I promise I’ll only bite the food. And I can’t take you home hungry.”

  She rolled her eyes upward, recognizing persistence. “You don’t need to feed me. You’ve already given your money and your work. And this.” She moved a hand in an arc that encompassed the room.

  “Pretty please.”

  She snorted. “You’re too used to getting your way.” But the thought of food and something to drink made her mouth water.

  He gave her a quirky grin. “Am I going to get it this time?”

  She hesitated only another moment. “All right.”

  He ushered her back out the way they had entered. They circled the building to the sidewalk and strolled past the shuttered showroom window. Like several other businesses, the car dealership closed at noon on Saturdays.

  “Dad works Saturdays,” he said, reading her mind. “I work full-time all week, but he only works mornings, unless something comes up and he decides to change his hours.”

  She nodded and kept pace. “He’s giving you more responsibility.”

  At the restaurant they took a table near a window with a view of Main Street. “Order whatever you want,” he said quietly.

  Callie gulped and studied the prices posted on the wall. They represented enough money to buy groceries for a week. “I’ll just have a sandwich.”

  He reached over and placed a hand over hers. “Let me feed you. I’ll order.” He stared into her eyes for a moment that went on too long. Callie’s face blazed with heat.

  Her heart stuttered, and she pulled her hand away. She shook her head in defeat and fought to keep her voice steady. “Give an inch, you take a mile.”

  “Good.”

  He ordered the special—pork roast, mashed potatoes and gravy, and peas. Callie bowed her head to whisper a silent blessing, but Trace surprised her by speaking one aloud.

  After they finished the meal—which made her feel more full than she had in months—and Trace paid the bill, they headed back down the street. Callie felt relief that they had not encountered any family or close friends. She felt conspicuous, but warm from his attention. Back inside the truck, she sat near the door and watched the landscape slip past. Sumac, sassafras and Virginia creeper had started to paint it with color.

  He turned onto the gravel road. “Do you know how to drive?”

  She twisted around to face him. “Not a car or truck. I’ve driven the tractor.”

  “Then it
’s time you did.”

  He pulled the truck to the side of the road, stopped and turned off the motor. Then he got out and came around to Callie’s side of the vehicle. When he opened the door, she just sat and stared at him.

  He held out a hand. “Come on.”

  She shrank back. “I can’t drive your truck. I might wreck it.”

  “No, you won’t.” He waggled his fingers.

  She hesitated only a moment longer, unable to pass up such an opportunity. Then she hopped out and went around and got behind the wheel.

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  He showed her how to turn on the gas, push the timing lever and pull out the throttle. “You don’t need to use the choke since the motor’s already warm.”

  Callie nodded and pushed the clutch pedal all the way to the floor.

  “You’re ready to start it now.”

  She pressed the starter and clenched her hands on the steering wheel when the engine came to life.

  “Ease out on the throttle.”

  She did as he instructed and let up on the clutch. The truck lurched and died.

  He laughed, a pleasant sound. “Try again, and don’t let the clutch out so fast.”

  She did, and the truck rolled down the road this time. A thrill of exhilaration whizzed through her, making her grin like an idiot. “This is fun.” She peered intently at the road ahead.

  * * *

  Trace watched the glow on Callie’s face, and his breath caught. An unexpected adolescent longing struck him. No, it was an adult attraction, plain and simple. The realization made him look at her with fresh eyes.

  She couldn’t be described as a breathtaking beauty, but she was pretty as pie, as his dad would say. An urge to make her smile more often came to him.

  Then confusion clouded his brain. He couldn’t afford to feel such things. His past was already murky with a lost love and a failed relationship. He would never find perfect love again, not a love he could lose.