by With Heart
The screen door opened as she was on her way to lock up the office for the day. A tall, lanky man came in. The cowboy. He lifted a hand and pushed his hat back off his forehead.
“I was just about to close,” Kathleen said.
“Adelaide didn’t waste time putting you to work. I came by to see if you’d made it here all right.”
“I made it. Did you tell the sheriff about the two crooks who tried to steal my car?”
“Yup. He knows about ’em.”
“How did you know that I was coming here?”
“You might say that a tumbleweed told me.”
“I might, but I won’t.”
“I saw your car out front. You’ve not unpacked it.”
“I haven’t had time. Miss Vernon had an accident—fainted, I guess. Anyway she got a bump on the head that knocked her out.”
“Is she all right?”
“I think so. Paul took her upstairs to rest.”
Johnny’s eyes roamed Kathleen’s face. He liked the way she looked and talked. She was a woman, yet she was a girl, too.
“Where are you staying? Can I give you a hand unpacking your car?”
“Thank you, no. I’m not sure where I’ll be staying. I need to talk to Paul, or Miss Vernon if she’s able.” She looked at him with wide, clear eyes—waiting for him to leave so that she could lock the door.
“I should have introduced myself. My brother-in-law, Tom Dolan, would skin me alive if I didn’t help his niece settle in. I’m Johnny Henry.” He held out his hand, and she put hers into it.
“Glad to meet you. I’m Kathleen Dolan, but I guess you know that.” So this is the Johnny Molly told me about.
“Yes. I also know your Uncle Hod and Aunt Molly. I was just at the post office and picked up a letter from Hod. He said that you were on your way and for me to look out for you. ’Course, I’d already had instruction from Tom.”
“It was good of them to be concerned for me. You more than did your duty today by helping me with the hijackers.” Kathleen pulled her hand from his.
“It wasn’t a duty, it was a pleasure. The sheriff may ask you to sign a complaint.”
“I’ll do that gladly. Now if you’ll excuse me. Paul has turned off the linotype, and I’ve got to talk to him.”
“Hi, Johnny.” Paul came out of the back room and placed a sheet of newsprint on the counter. “Adelaide proofs this before I lock the type into the frame.”
Kathleen glanced at the headline: Lead stories were, BRITAIN IS PLEDGED TO FIGHT and AMERICANS TOLD TO RETURN HOME. Despite her being so tired, Kathleen’s interest was piqued. This was heavy stuff for a small-town paper out here on the edge of nowhere.
“Does it have to be done tonight?”
“In the morning. The press starts rolling at noon.”
“Is Adelaide all right?”
“Seems to be.” He said it in a way to cut off any other inquiry.
“I was going to ask her to recommend a place to stay. I’ll stay at the hotel tonight and talk to her tomorrow.”
“Mrs. Ramsey has a room for you. Adelaide spoke to her this morning.” The big man’s amber eyes went from Kathleen to Johnny.
“I’ll take her there, Paul.”
“I’d be obliged, Johnny. Adelaide’s worried about her—”
“There’s no need for her to worry. Tell her I’ll be here in the morning.”
Kathleen glanced at Johnny. When she had time she would try to remember everything Hod and Molly had said about him. For now she welcomed his help.
Paul pulled the shade and closed the door behind them. Out on the sidewalk, Johnny’s hand gripped her elbow.
“Have you eaten?”
“Did you hear my stomach growling?”
“Is that what I heard? I thought it was thunder.” He smiled down at her, and both of them were suddenly embarrassed. His hand dropped from her arm and he stepped back. “How about one of Claude’s hamburgers?”
“Sounds heavenly.”
They walked the block to the well-lighted diner that had been converted from an old streetcar. Kathleen was thankful for the tall, broad-shouldered presence beside her in this unfamiliar town. She cast a glance up at him; and into her fertile mind sprang the image of a perfect male hero from one of her stories: strong, handsome, a champion of the underdog, yet gentle with his woman.
Music from the jukebox blared through the open windows of Claude’s diner. Kathleen recognized the familiar voice of Gene Autry, the Oklahoma cowboy, singing a song he had made popular. “In a vine-covered shack in the mountains, bravely fighting the battle of time, is a dear one who’s weathered life’s sorrows, that silver-haired daddy of mine.”
Several people sat on the stools at the counter that ran the length of the eatery. Behind the counter was the grill, a stove, shelves of dishes and tin Coca-Cola and Red Man chewing tobacco posters. A man in a white apron, a striped shirt, and a black bow tie yelled out as they entered.
“Hi, Johnny. Come right on in and set yourself down.” The man’s voice reached them over the sound of Autry’s singing.
“Hi, Claude.” Johnny placed his hat on a shelf above the row of windows, ran his fingers through his hair to smooth it, and ushered Kathleen to one end of the counter. He waited until she was seated on a stool beneath the overhead fan before straddling a stool beside her.
Claude, wiping his hands on his apron, came down the counter. His round face was flushed and his bright blue eyes twinkled. Long strands of dark hair were combed over the near-bald spot on his head.
“Howdy, ma’am.”
“Hello.”
“This is Miss Dolan, Claude. She’ll be working with Adelaide over at the Gazette. Claude White, the chief cook and bottle washer at this greasy spoon.”
“Glad to meet ya, miss. Adelaide’s been needin’ somebody to give her a hand over there. Paul’s good at printin’, but ain’t never heard that he was worth a tinker’s dam at writin’ up a story. Well, now, that’s said, what’ll ya have?”
Kathleen looked at the menu board above a shelf of crockery, then at Claude, and smiled.
“I’m hungry enough to eat everything up there, but I’ll have a hamburger and a piece of raisin pie.”
“What will you have on your hamburger?”
“Everything but onions.”
“I’ll have two hamburgers and a bowl of chili,” Johnny said.
“Onions, Johnny?” Claude lifted his bushy brows.
“No.”
“You usually have extra onions. Guess that tells me what I wanted to know.” Claude winked at Kathleen and turned back to his grill.
Kathleen glanced at Johnny and saw his eyes narrow, his lips press into a firm line, and knew that had the deep suntan not bronzed his face, it would be flushed with embarrassment. A muscle jumped in his clenched jaw. He looked even younger without his hat. Hair as black as midnight sprang back from his forehead and hung almost to the collar of his shirt.
“Claude’s quite a joker,” Johnny murmured.
“Does he always wear a bow tie when he cooks?”
“Always. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him without it.”
Claude brought a bowl of thick, fragrant chili and placed it in front of Johnny.
“Sure you don’t want one, miss?”
“It smells good, but I’ll wait for my hamburger and pie.”
Claude dashed back to the grill, flipped over meat patties with a long-handled spatula, while placing open buns on the grill with the other hand. No wasted motion there. He kept his eye on the door and greeted each customer who came in by name.
“Hi ya, Allen. You’re late tonight. How ya doin’, Herb? Take a seat. Be with ya in two shakes. You want anythin’ else, Jake?” Claude rolled a nickel down the counter. “Put this in the jukebox, Allen. Play ‘Frankie and Johnny’ for my friend Johnny who has brought me a new customer to brighten up the place. Once she’s eaten a Claude hamburger, she’ll be back.”
“He’d make a good
politician,” Kathleen murmured.
“That’s what I’ve been tellin’ him,” Johnny grinned at her. “He takes a backseat to no one once his mouth gets goin’. He’s got his fingers in most every pie in town.” Johnny said the last loud enough for Claude to hear as he put the hamburgers on the counter in front of them.
“Here ya are, miss.” Claude winked at her again. “Don’t pay no mind to what this long drink of water tells you. He only comes to town when he gets tired a talkin’ to hisself.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have brought her here. After hearing you spout off she’ll probably head right back to Kansas.”
“Not on your life.” Kathleen chewed and swallowed her first bite of her hamburger. “I’ll hang around just for this.”
“Smart lady you got here, buster—”
“Hey, Claude. Stop flirting with the pretty redhead and get me some catsup.”
“Hold your horses, Jake. I’m making sure she knows that this kid ain’t the only single man ’round these parts.”
By the time Kathleen finished her meal, Johnny was done with his. When she reached into her purse to pay, he put his hand on her arm to stop her. Not wanting to embarrass him, she waited until they were back out on the walk in front of the diner before she spoke.
“I never intended for you to pay for my supper. Please—” She opened her purse.
“No,” he said, his tone so firm that it stopped her protest.
“Well . . . thank you.”
“My truck is across the street from your car. I’ll lead you to Mrs. Ramsey’s. It’s only a few blocks.”
“Thank goodness for that. I’m about out of gas. I got so excited coming into town that I forgot to stop and get some.”
They walked down the darkened street to her car without speaking; then she followed a truck as dilapidated as the car the hijackers had used to block the road. The bed of the truck, without sides, held a piece of machinery lashed down with ropes. A block off Main Street, they left the paving and drove onto a hard-packed road of red clay. Kathleen followed Johnny’s lead and dodged the potholes. He stopped in front of a one-story bungalow with a porch that stretched across the front. A dim light glowed from a lightbulb between the two front doors. Johnny came to her car as she was getting out.
“Do you want to meet Mrs. Ramsey before we unload the car?”
“Are you thinking that I may not want to stay here after I meet her?”
“It isn’t a fancy place.”
“I’m not used to a fancy place. I’m used to a clean place, but I need to know—about Mrs. Ramsey.”
“She’s decent, if that’s what you mean. Adelaide Vernon wouldn’t have recommended her if she wasn’t. She’s a good hardworking lady who hasn’t had an easy time of it.”
Kathleen was keenly aware of the cowboy who stood close beside her on the darkened road. He looked confident and dangerous . . . yet she felt perfectly safe with him.
“I’ll take your word for it.” She walked beside him to the porch. As they stepped upon it, one of the doors was flung open and a small girl rushed out.
“Hi, Johnny? Is that her?”
“Hi, Emily.”
“Emily, for goodness sake!” The woman who came out to take the girl’s hand had snow-white hair and a sun-browned, weathered face. She was short and very plump. “Excuse Emily, miss. She’s excited.”
“She’s pretty, Granny, and she ain’t fat. You said she’d—”
“—Well, aren’t you smart to see that she’s pretty.” The woman pulled the little girl’s head to her side, hugged her to shut her up, and smiled at Kathleen. “Adelaide sent word this morning that you’d be here sometime today.”
“Thank you for the compliment, Emily.” Kathleen smiled at the child, who had suddenly turned shy and hid her face against her grandmother.
“Come in. I’ll show you the room.”
“Mr. Henry was kind enough to show me the way here.”
“Go on into the front room, Johnny.” The top of the woman’s head came to Johnny’s armpit. She indicated the door that she and the girl had come through.
“Thanks, but I’ll wait out here and help Miss Dolan with her things before I go.”
Mrs. Ramsey opened the door and led Kathleen into a room that had the smell of recent cleaning: lye soap, vinegar, and linseed oil. The only furniture was a bed, a dresser, and a wardrobe. The bedcover was a white sheet with a spray of appliquéd flowers in the middle. A colorful rag rug lay beside the bed on the scrubbed wooden floor. Curtains that Kathleen recognized as having been made from white flour sacks and embroidered with yellow-and-green cross-stitch along the hems hung at the windows.
Kathleen glanced around the room, then at the small woman who clutched her granddaughter’s hand. There was an anxious look in her eyes. She hurried to open a door revealing a bathroom with a clawfoot tub, a sink, a toilet with the waterbox near the ceiling, and a door leading to another room.
“The water is . . . a little rusty, but I catch rainwater—” Her words trailed.
“I love to wash my hair in rainwater,” Kathleen said to fill the void. “Do you rent by the week, or by the month?”
“By the week, if that’s all right. Two dollars . . . or four if you want breakfast and supper. Ah . . . nothing fancy, but plain eatin’. We have meat on Wednesdays and Sundays.”
“That’ll be fine.”
“You’re takin’ it?”
“Oh, yes. This is just the kind of place I like.” Kathleen opened her purse and took out one of the ten-dollar bills Johnny had made the hijackers return. “I’ll pay for two weeks.”
The woman’s hand was shaking when she reached for the bill, and Kathleen was sure she saw mist in her eyes.
“But . . . I don’t have change.”
“That’s all right. I’ll owe you two dollars for the third week.”
“I’ll do my best to make you as comfortable as I can.”
“Is she stayin’, Granny?”
“I plan on it, if you want me, Emily.” Kathleen patted the little girl on the head. “Will you help me bring in my things?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You can park your car behind the house if you want to get it out of the road.” Her new landlady’s voice was raspy.
“Thank you, I will.”
Kathleen, Johnny, and Emily made several trips to the car before Johnny carried in her heavy typewriter. He looked around for a place to put it.
“Just set it on the floor. My trunk is coming down on the train. I can use it as a table.”
“I thought a reporter did her writing at the newspaper office.” Johnny divided his glance between her and the near-new machine.
“I do . . . most of it,” she said, not wanting to tell him that she used the typewriter almost every night and most always on Sunday afternoon.
“I have a small table out at my place. I’ll bring it in, if you like.”
“Oh, would you? I’ll buy it from you.”
“I’d have to have fifty or sixty bucks for it.”
“Fifty or sixty—” Her eyes questioned. Then, “Oh, you!” she exclaimed when she saw him trying to keep the grin off his face. “Johnny Henry, you’re a tease.” His smile would give a charging bull pause for reflection, Kathleen thought, and wondered why it was that he was so “at home” here.
“That’s everything out of the car. Do you want me to move it around back?”
“I would appreciate it. I probably won’t use it much. Rawlings is about half the size of Liberal.”
“Be right back.”
When she was alone, Kathleen looked around the room that would be her home for a while. The door leading to the front porch had new screen on the bottom. The one going into the opposite room stood open, and she could see a couch and a library table. The third door led into the bathroom. The rooming house where she’d stayed in Liberal had six boarders, all on the second and third floors, and they shared one bathroom. This was almost like having one all to herse
lf.
She heard Johnny when he came in the back door and paused to talk for a while with Mrs. Ramsey and Emily. She could hear the murmur of their voices but not what they said. She was taking things out of her suitcase and placing them in the drawers when he appeared in the doorway of the connecting room.
“Here are your keys.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze was drawn to his like iron to a magnet. Occasionally, Kathleen was attracted to men, mostly professionals or businessmen who wore suits and ties and were well versed on world affairs. She never expected to be attracted to a cowboy, a young one at that. The dark eyes that looked into hers were deep-set, and even though they gleamed with a friendly light, they looked to be as old as the ages.
“Welcome,” he said after the long silence between them. “I’ll bring in the table the next time I come to town.”
“I feel that I’m imposing. You’ve already done so much.”
“My pleasure.” He slapped his battered hat down on his head. “Good night.”
“’Night, Mr. Henry.”
Kathleen heard the squeak of the screen door and went to the porch. He was going down the walk to his truck.
“Thanks again,” she called.
“Don’t mention it.” His voice came out of the darkness.
He ground the starter several times on the old truck before it started. The lights came on, and it moved on down the street. Kathleen watched until it turned the corner and was out of sight.
• • •
Damn, but she was pretty.
Johnny hadn’t been especially interested in meeting Tom’s niece from up north after Tom had told him that she was a newspaper reporter who had written stories that had been sent out on the wire to the big papers, that she was investing money she had inherited in the Rawlings paper, and that she was bold enough to drive across country by herself. He couldn’t imagine a woman like that needing any help from him.
Well, she had needed him today with the hijackers. He had done what any decent man would have done under the circumstances.
When he had seen her car sitting, still loaded, in front of the Gazette, he had stopped before he had given it much thought. If he hadn’t stopped, Paul would have seen to it that she got to Mrs. Ramsey’s. But no, old dumbbell that he was, he had to stick his bill in, take her to Claude’s, help her unload and then further complicate matters by offering her a table for her typewriter. She had been nice, but she probably was uneasy with the feeling that she owed him.
