Ozark Sweetheart

by Helen Gray

  Leon grimaced. “His name is...was...Clyde Wilson. A couple of people admitted they’ve seen him around here before. He’s a buyer for one of the Saint Louis outfits. Which means he must have a local connection. Dutton—the one who came here to shoot Callie—must have found out about the stuff in these hills and decided to move in on Wilson’s territory. We still haven’t found hide nor hair of him.”

  “He’s wounded. He should have found a doctor.”

  “I talked to Doc Randolph, and he says he’s had no gunshot victims besides Delmer.”

  Leon pushed away from the truck. “I need to get going.”

  * * *

  “I’m sure your parents love you two very much, and I have no doubt they have taught you the difference between right and wrong and to respect the law.” Marshal Gentry addressed Clem and Delmer, who sat in chairs facing him.

  All defiance wiped from her face, Clem stared at the floor.

  “Unfortunately, you chose to ignore the law and got involved in a dangerous situation. You’re both under arrest.”

  Callie’s heart ached as her mom gasped and covered her mouth with a hand. Dad pulled her to him. “It’ll be okay,” he said gruffly, his face haggard.

  Callie thought of her little savings. She didn’t have nearly enough to pay fines for both of them. Even if she did, she shouldn’t. If they were old enough to break the law, they were old enough to answer for those actions.

  Apparently her parents felt the same way. Neither offered any argument.

  “Do you understand?” Leon asked when no one moved. He stared at Clem.

  She looked up and nodded as if her neck were stiff, and then dropped her gaze to her hands. She looked distant and impassive, except for the single tear that trailed down her cheek.

  “No!”

  All eyes turned to Riley.

  “It wuz Delmer and me let Troy and Chuckie talk us into helping them sell their stuff. After that guy shot me, Clem took my place. I didn’t know she had done it, but it’s all my fault.”

  Callie watched her baby sister face Riley, and it seemed she visibly grew up in those few seconds.

  “You didn’t make me do it,” Clem declared through trembling lips. “It was my idea. Those bullets you took have punished you enough. Taking your place was my idea. I’m responsible for me. And I’m not going back to school, anyhow,” she concluded.

  Riley stared at her for what seemed forever, and then he looked over at Delmer. “Don’t worry about the mill. I’ll be going back to work tomorrow.”

  “You’re not ready,” Callie protested.

  “I’m needed, so I’m ready,” he declared resolutely.

  Clem jumped up and ran to Riley. She fell to her knees and put her arms around him. “Thank you for trying to help me.” When she got up, she faced the marshal. “Can’t you let Delmer stay here? He’s hurt.”

  Leon shook his head. “Afraid not. But you’ll be together. You can take care of him.” He went to Delmer and helped him to his feet.

  Callie swallowed hard and bit down on her lower lip to steady it as she watched the marshal steer her younger siblings out the door, Delmer supported between Leon and Clem.

  Just as they reached the gate, a truck came speeding down the road. Everyone halted in their tracks as it pulled in and stopped. Trace Gentry loped around the front of the vehicle and stopped. He yelled at Leon, but his eyes gravitated to Callie.

  “I think they’ve found the missing gunman.”

  Chapter 9

  Trace watched Callie’s face erupt into wide-eyed fear, and then evolve into tight-lipped resolve. She would face whatever she must with courage. Good. But he wanted to spare her.

  He aimed his words at Leon. “Nolan Trexlar came to town to find you. When he couldn’t, he came to my office and asked if I could get a message to you. He found a car in the woods while he was out hunting. He said it looked like the driver missed a curve, grazed a tree and rolled down a hill into some brush that nearly hid it. There’s a dead man behind the wheel.”

  Leon turned to Dessie and Arlie Blake. “I’ll come back for these two when I’m done.” He sprinted toward his car.

  Callie shot out the door and came toward him. “I’m going with you.”

  Trace shuddered inwardly at the thought of what she might see. “You don’t need to. You identified the picture, and I saw the man at the school. We can identify him.”

  She hesitated, clearly torn. “Thank you.” It came out in a whisper.

  He got back in his truck and drove after Leon and Mr. Trexlar.

  * * *

  The next day, sorrow warred with relief as Callie woke to memories of yesterday’s events. Trace and Leon had confirmed that the dead man was the killer she had seen. It felt incredibly good to no longer have to live in fear. But her younger brother and sister had been brought to jail, and Callie’s parents were heartbroken.

  She forced the memories to the back of her mind and crawled into her overalls. Duty called. After breakfast she went to work at the mill.

  By the end of the day she could hardly put one foot in front of the other. When she started across the field to the house, she stumbled and almost collapsed. Riley’s arm came across her shoulders to steady her. He looked as tired as she felt.

  “You’ve been good help, sis,” he said gruffly. “Go on to the house. I’ll chore with Dad.”

  She studied his drawn face. “You need to get off your feet.”

  He managed a grin. “I will when we’re done.”

  Remorse rolled over her again. “You should never have been hurt. It’s my fault.”

  The grin disappeared. “Stop that kind of thinking. You weren’t to blame for seeing a murder while doing your job. Besides,” he added, the grin returning, “I was getting stir-crazy. We don’t have to stay out of sight anymore. I’m glad you’re safe—and back home,” he added in a husky tone. With a quick squeeze to her shoulders, he headed for the barn.

  Touched by his unaccustomed show of affection, Callie blinked tightly and struck out for the house. She and Mom had supper on the table by the time Dad and Riley came in. But without Delmer and Clem, the house had an emptiness to it. They each darted looks at the vacant places at the table, but no one mentioned the kids being in jail. Callie knew, though, that Mom had driven the wagon into town that morning and taken them a packet of food.

  Thursday was a repeat of Wednesday—until they got home for supper. They were at the table when a car pulled up in front of the house. Dessie went to the window—and gasped. “It’s the marshal, and he has the kids with him.” She flew to the door.

  Leon Gentry ushered Clem and Delmer into the house ahead of him, and waited patiently at the side of the door while they accepted a hug from their mother.

  “These two have been released,” he said slowly, glancing around at the group who had migrated from the kitchen. “But there are conditions.

  “They will be donating their services to work projects in the community. I’m to keep a record of the time they spend and the kind of work they do. The judge will decide when their debt is paid. And...”

  The marshal paused and gave the two offenders a stern glare. “If either of them is caught near a still, or in possession of products from a still, they will return to jail immediately and stay there for six months.”

  “We understand.” Delmer spoke for them, and Clem nodded agreement.

  “Then I’ll be going.”

  Suddenly he was gone, and the family was a unit again.

  “You two get in here.” Mom dabbed at her eyes with her apron and bustled about setting two more plates at the table.

  The two ate as if starved. “Missed your cooking, Mom,” Delmer paused to say.

  Saturday morning Callie and Clem drove the buckboard to town for the swa
p meet. A sad-faced Jolene had stopped by Thursday to report that her mother was not expected to live. Callie promised to fill in for her mournful friend at school and to visit her ailing mother as much as she could. Surprisingly, Clem had offered to work today in Jolene’s absence.

  Trace waited in his truck for them when they pulled in behind the dealership.

  “Whoo-hoo,” Clem exclaimed when he ushered them inside. “This is great.” She scanned the table and shelf-filled room.

  “Choose a table for canned goods and put those on it.” Callie indicated the jars of pickles Clem carried.

  Trace moved close to Callie and spoke in a low voice. “I have some things in my truck I want you to see. I put a big sign in the window of the dealership directing people back here.”

  Callie watched his lips move, drowning in the scent that was distinctly his. Unable to speak, she dragged her gaze from his and followed him back outside to his truck. He climbed up into the back of it and pulled a tarp off something. “This was donated by someone. Would you like to have it for your parents?”

  Callie stared at an ice chest, an item she had heard her mother wish for more than once. She heaved a deep breath and backed away. “I can’t take that. You’ve done too much for us already. Give it to someone who needs it.”

  “I am. Your parents don’t appear to me to have one. This is from someone who doesn’t need it. Don’t let your prickly pride keep your parents from having something they need.”

  He made it sound so simple. He didn’t realize how his generosity affected her. How it made her want...well, too much.

  “I’ll leave it in the truck,” he said, taking her acceptance for granted. “I’m going out to help the men fix the storm damage to the church, but I’ll be back by the time you girls are done.”

  Knowing she was bested, Callie swallowed and whispered a simple, “Thanks.”

  He started to go around the truck, but stopped and took something from his pocket. “The town board asked me to give you this for this project.” He handed her some money.

  Callie gasped. “What’s it for? What am I to do with it?”

  “See that it gets where it’s needed most. A couple of suggestions were putting gas in cars for people and paying doctor bills.”

  “Not Delmer’s doctor bill. I’ll pay that.”

  He nodded. “I know. Just like you paid Riley’s. Pay someone else’s.”

  She drilled Trace with a glare. “Are you sure this didn’t come from you?”

  He raised his palms. “I’m sure. The board voted to help you with this project because they think it’s a good idea, and they like the way you’ve stepped up to help others. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them show up with personal donations.”

  As if summoned, a car came around the corner and pulled in. A wagon followed it.

  “It looks like you’re getting busy. I’ll see you around noon.”

  Callie unhitched the horses and tethered them near a big oak tree.

  * * *

  Hours later, Trace smiled as he drove back to town from the church. He could swear that Callie Blake got prettier every time he saw her. She had matured so well from the girl he remembered from high school. Something about her drew him, stirred him. It made him happy to do things that would help her and her family. Every time he was near her he wanted to comfort her, protect her, to kiss her.

  You just got out of one bad relationship. Stay away from her. Loving another woman is too risky. Haven’t you learned your lesson?

  Common sense returned. Callie was safe now. He no longer needed to protect her.

  But who will protect me from her?

  When he walked into the “swap room” he spied Clem snipping the hair of a man seated in a chair with a towel draped around his neck. A sign announcing Free Haircuts graced the wall behind them.

  He approached Callie. “How did it go?”

  She paused in bagging leftovers and looked up, a sparkle in her eyes that made his heart rate run amok. She pulled a knotted handkerchief from the pocket of her simple lilac gingham dress. “The mayor put a jar labeled Donations on a table and dropped a quarter in it. More people added money to it. With what you gave me from the town board, we have twelve dollars.”

  He smiled, happy because she was happy. The sight of her gorgeous, shiny eyes had him melting like a chunk of ice dropped on a hot stove. He struggled to speak. “They know you’ll put it to good use.”

  Worry lines creased her face. “I can’t carry this around with me, and I don’t feel right about taking it home. It needs to be kept where...where I...”

  “Where your integrity can never be questioned,” he finished for her. “I understand. There’s a small safe in my office. Would you like to put it there?”

  She nodded, clearly relieved. “Yes, please.” She unknotted the hanky and handed him the money.

  “Come with me.” He escorted her through a door into the showroom where his dad had already locked the front doors and gone home. He went inside his office and knelt to unlock the safe hidden behind a lower shelf. When he placed the money inside it and turned around, Callie was no longer in the doorway. He locked the safe and got up.

  He found her in the showroom examining one of the two vehicles displayed there. She peered inside it at the interior.

  “Want to see it from the inside?”

  She jerked upright, startled. Then she grinned. “Sorry. You caught me snooping. But yes, I’d love to see it from the inside.”

  “Just a moment.” He went to the Peg-Board at the back of the room and selected the correct key. When he returned and opened the door of the aquamarine car, he watched her inhale the whiff of new leather and fabric.

  She slid gingerly onto the seat and gripped the wheel, her head moving in a circular motion as she took in the details of the interior. A hand slid over the passenger seat in a caress so loving it made him wish that hand would stroke his face.

  She leaned her head back and looked up at the roof. It was impossible to miss the longing in her gaze. She turned to face him. “I love the Chevrolet Superior Series. It’s more mechanically sophisticated and offers a choice of colors.”

  Huh? She knew one car from another?

  “It has some nice features,” he said, fishing for more.

  She nodded. “Yep. Seating capacity for five, balloon tires, four-cylinder engine, disc wheels, three-bearing crankshaft, cellular radiator...”

  He began to laugh. Then he nodded at the truck next to it. “Want to look at that?”

  She hopped out and followed him, eyes gleaming. When he got the key and opened it, she hopped in eagerly and gave it the same inspection. “These inline six-cylinder Stevebolt engines are wonderful, but it was the Superior that gave Chevrolet its first lead in sales over Ford. The Cast Iron Wonder last year topped the one million mark in its first year.”

  His grin broadened. “I’m impressed. Please don’t decide to go into competition with me.”

  He stood there enjoying the view while Callie checked out the mechanisms. When she got out, he moved close enough to inhale her clean feminine scent. He could see the rise and fall of her chest, the pulse of her throat. He swallowed against his own dry throat, feeling like a young teenager again, and questioned what he wanted to ask.

  “Someday I’ll own one of these,” she declared, pushing back a stray strand of hair.

  “I believe you will.” His words came out strained. The ensuing silence told him that she would be gone in a second. He blurted the thought in his mind.

  “Callie...would you let me take you to the picture show, or wherever you might like to go, some night next week?”

  He stared into her eyes, waiting. She stared back, not moving or speaking for several long moments. Then a look of regret flashed across her face. “I promised Jolene that
I’ll fill in for her at school starting Monday. Her mother is much worse. With her mother so sick, I need to help them in any way I can.”

  She paused for a breath. “I couldn’t teach all day and then seek my own pleasure while they’re in such trouble.”

  He took her hand lightly in his own. “I understand.”

  He did. She truly needed to devote time to her friend. But she also didn’t trust his motives. He had rushed her to raise their friendship to a more personal relationship before she was ready.

  “Hey, Callie. Where did you go?”

  Clem’s voice made them draw apart. A moment later Clem appeared in the doorway, and Callie left him to join her.

  She had turned him down. But she didn’t seem happy about it.

  His shoulders slumped. Then he straightened them and drew a breath of resolve. There was more than one way to accomplish things.

  Chapter 10

  Callie’s first day filling in for Jolene at school went well. At the end of it, she considered her next priorities. She and Clem had delivered surplus produce and household items Saturday afternoon, including a stop at the home of Trace’s would-have-been in-laws. Mr. and Mrs. Michaels had been surprised, and it had taken some persuasion to convince them that the surplus garden produce would waste if they didn’t help eat it.

  Callie’s mind automatically returned to Saturday and what had sounded like a request for a date from Trace Gentry. She must have misunderstood. She could only be grateful that she had not accepted, and then found out she had made a fool of herself. Well, he certainly wouldn’t hang around any more after such a refusal.

  She stepped through the doorway, and came to a stupefied halt. There Trace stood, backed up against his truck, gazing around as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Callie concentrated on the door latch, but she could only spend so much time locking it. She drew a deep, fortifying breath and headed down the steps.

  “Why, hello, Mr. Gentry. Have you gotten confused? It’s not Saturday, so there’s no swap meet here today.”

  He flashed a white-toothed grin and pushed away from the vehicle. “Didn’t you call me?”