by With Heart
“I was too mad to be scared. They took my money, then had the nerve to want me to help push the car out of the ditch.”
“They robbed you? Why aren’t they in jail?”
“They told the sheriff they were helping me get my car out of the ditch and the twenty dollars they had was the money that I had paid them. He said it was their word against mine. I don’t know what would have happened if Johnny Henry hadn’t come along. He persuaded them to give my money back and sent them on their way. Johnny knew who they were and turned them in to the sheriff, but the sheriff let them go.”
“Do you know Johnny Henry?”
“I’ve met him a few times.” Kathleen felt the slight flush that covered her cheeks at the mention of the man who had occupied her thoughts of late, and she took a drink of iced tea before she continued. “He rescued me again the other day. Johnny said their names are Webb and Krome. I’d met them for the second time on the street. They were smart-alecky like they were today, and my temper got away from me. One of them took hold of me, and I hit him in the mouth with my fist.” Kathleen laughed nervously. “I’d like to say that I’ve never done such a thing before, but I have. My grandma said I didn’t get this red hair for nothing. I hurt my knuckles when I hit him, but it was worth it.”
Barker had stopped eating and was watching her. She was a lovely girl. Her eyes were as blue as the sky. A spattering of freckles spread across her nose. Her face wasn’t covered with a lot of powder and paint. She blushed so prettily, something women seldom did these days.
“Johnny took them to the sheriff,” Kathleen continued, unaware of Barker’s intense interest. “The sheriff let them go again and then had the nerve to come down to the Gazette and accuse me of brawling on the street because I hit the man.”
“Strange action for a sheriff. Could be that someone is pulling his strings.”
“Doc Herman, I imagine. He runs the town. Nothing happens around here that he doesn’t know about. He came in on the heels of the sheriff and lectured me about brawling. Goodness gracious, how I have gone on. I shouldn’t be laying out the town’s dirty laundry to a visitor.”
“Most towns have dirty laundry of some kind or the other.”
“This one’s got an extra share.”
“I’m glad that you’ve got someone looking out for you.”
“Johnny just feels responsible for me. His sister, Henry Ann, over in Red Rock, is married to my Uncle Tom. I don’t think Johnny wants to bother with me, but feels obligated.”
“Any man, if he’s worth his salt, would jump at the chance to bother with you. You’re a pretty girl. Is Johnny married?”
“No. Not that I know of. He made me promise to drive my car to work so that I’d not have to walk back to my room. It’s usually dark by the time I leave the paper.”
“Do you like him?”
The blunt question caught Kathleen by surprise, and her cheeks reddened. She found she wasn’t offended by the personal question. Barker was different from any man she had ever met. She liked him, just as she knew she would when he first came into the office.
“Of course. I’d be foolish not to like him after he rescued me twice.”
Barker glanced at her from beneath heavy eyebrows, and genuine amusement quirked his mouth. His dark eyes warmed.
“He’d be foolish not to like you.”
“He may like me as a friend, but that is all. I’m probably older than he is.”
“I’d guess you to be about twenty-four or five.”
“Twenty six as of a few weeks ago.”
“A mere youngster. If Johnny doesn’t set his cap for you, he isn’t as smart as you think he is. Will you be at the rodeo?”
“I’ll cover it for the paper.”
“Maybe I’ll get a chance to meet Johnny Henry.”
“He’ll be the star of the rodeo, so I’m told.”
“Is there anything serious between you and Mr. Grandon? Oh, yes I found out who he was when I went into his store this morning to buy some handkerchiefs.”
“Heavens no!”
“I didn’t think so. You looked rather bored last night.”
“Did it show? I wouldn’t hurt Leroy’s feelings for the world.”
“I rather think that he realized that the two of you were not compatible.”
Kathleen waited while he paid for the meal. “Thank you for the lunch,” Kathleen said when they reached the sidewalk. “Tonight we go Dutch.”
“Dutch? What’s that?”
“We each pay for our own.”
“How times have changed. I’m not sure my gentlemanly instincts will allow that.”
“You have all afternoon to prepare for it. I’d better get back to work. I’m going to do a feature on the many farms in Tillison County that have been repossessed since the start of the Great Depression. I’ll head on down to the courthouse to see the records.”
“I’ll walk with you. I have business there, too.”
At the courthouse, Kathleen said good-bye to Barker and turned into the county recorder’s office, but not before she heard a booming voice call out Barker’s name.
“Barker Fleming, you son of a gun. What are you doing in Rawlings?”
“Hello, Judge Fimbres. Got a few minutes?”
“For you, Barker, I’ve got as much time as you want. Come in. Come in and tell me about the family.”
Chapter Eleven
Johnny sat on the top rail of the corral with his friend Keith McCabe and looked over the tired stock feeding on the hay being pitched into the pen from the hay wagon.
“Good-looking bunch, Keith.
“A little weary from that long drive.”
“Thirty miles is just a waltz around the block for that bunch. Some of them are wilder than a turpentined cat.”
“Yeah.” Keith grinned, threw his cigarette butt on the ground, stepped down from the rail, and ground it into the dirt with the toe of his boot. “You better hope ya don’t draw that long-legged piebald over there; you’ll have your work cut out for you. That sucker’ll throw you from here to yonder.”
“That’d tickle you plumb to death, wouldn’t it?” Johnny moved down from the rail to stand beside him.
“Don’t worry, sissy-boy, I’ll be riding pickup.” Keith, an inch taller than Johnny and quite a few pounds heavier, slapped him hard on the back. Johnny pretended to stagger.
“They’re gettin’ hard up for pickup riders, if ya ask me.”
“What’er ya talkin’ about, Johnny-boy? I’m the best pickup man in the state of Texas. Don’t worry. I’ll get to you before he stomps your pretty face into the ground.”
“I’d be obliged,” Johnny said drily.
Keith McCabe, a rancher from just over the line in Texas, was Johnny’s best friend and one of the few who knew about his occasional activities with the federal marshals. Keith was also a good friend of Hod Dolan and his wife Molly. Molly and Ruth McCabe had been childhood friends in Kansas.
“When’s Ruth coming up?”
“She and Davis will be here tomorrow. She’d not miss the rodeo especially if you’re ridin’.”
“How old is Davis now?”
“Two and a half years now. His baby sister should be here by Christmas.”
“You certainly are a busy man. It’s a wonder you’ve got time for ranchin’.”
“Important things come first, boy. You’ll find that out when you have your own woman. When are you going to find a pretty little gal and tie the knot?”
“When I get to be as old as you . . . say twenty, thirty years from now.”
“Hey, I don’t top you over ten years, if that much.”
“If you’re so young, why’d you quit rodeoin’?”
“I can give you a two-word answer to that question. My wife.” Keith was deeply in love with his wife, and his eyes always lit up when he talked about her and his son.
“Henpecked already, huh?”
“You bet! The year we married I entered the bull-r
iding contest over at Frederick. The crazy bastard I drew was meaner than a longhorn with his tail tied in a knot. After he threw me, he tried to stomp me to death. Ruth was mad at the steer but madder at me. It didn’t matter that I was limping around on crutches; she ripped me up one side and down the other. She said that if I got myself killed, she’d be so mad she’d not go to my funeral and, what’s more, when our boy was born, she’d name him Horsecock McCabe. That did it. I couldn’t have my boy going through life named Horsecock.”
Johnny whooped with laughter. “That sounds like Ruth.”
“Yeah. She’s a ring-tailed tooter when she’s riled up,” Keith said proudly. “I know which side of my bread is buttered. I quit rodeoing before she took off a patch of my hide.”
“I saw your favorite relative on the way up here,” Johnny said.
“Who’s that?”
“Marty Conroy. Your cousin from Conroy, Texas. The little turd with the big head, the loud mouth, and shit for brains.”
“Good Lord! Was he coming here? I haven’t seen the little pipsqueak for a year. Every time I see him, he’s trying to hang a big get-rich-quick scheme on me.”
“We were on the road between the Kimrow and Dryden ranches when he pulled up behind us in his fancy car. He didn’t have any more sense than to honk the horn and spook the herd. Old Potter, riding drag, had to go chase a half dozen head. He cussed a blue streak and threatened to horsewhip Marty if he blew that blasted horn again. I know it about killed the little blowhard to have to tag along behind, eating dust, until we made the turn.”
“Marty likes to throw around the Conroy name. It doesn’t mean squat except in Conroy, Texas. He thinks he’s big-time, but lately he’s come down a peg or two. The trustees of his granddaddy’s estate are tightening the purse strings. It could be that the trust is about to dry up, and he’ll have to go to work. Wouldn’t it be a cryin’ shame if old Marty had to do a day’s work?” Keith grinned devilishly.
“Yeah, it would. I’d feel downright bad about it.” Johnny beat the dust from his hat by hitting it against his thigh, then slapped it back down on his head. “I should get on out to the ranch and see about my own stock.”
“Let’s find a place to wash up, and I’ll treat you to supper before we head out to your place for the night.”
“Sounds good. I didn’t want to cook for you anyway.”
• • •
The instant he and Keith walked into the Golden Rule Restaurant, Johnny saw Kathleen seated at a table in the back of the room. The light above her head turned her hair fiery red. All that registered in his mind was that she was wearing something blue and laughing with the man she was with. He had thick black hair, was wearing a light doeskin jacket, and giving her all of his attention.
Wishing that he could turn around and go back out but knowing that if he did, he’d have to explain to Keith, Johnny led the way to the farside of the room. He unintentionally sat at a table against the wall that gave him a side view of Kathleen and her friend.
Trying not to let it show that his gut had knotted painfully at the sight of her with another man, Johnny pretended to study the menu.
“What do you usually have here?” Keith asked.
“What? Well, I don’t usually eat here. This is a little too fancy for me. I grab a hamburger at Claude’s when I’m in town,” he said gruffly.
“It’ll not hurt you to get the manure off your boots once in a while.” Keith turned to the waitress who was hovering at his elbow, smiled, and winked. “I want a big, thick steak, honey, some biscuits and gravy. Coffee, too.”
“Give me the same.” Johnny slapped the menu down on the table.
The overweight waitress glanced at Johnny then fixed her gaze on Keith, as she had been doing since they walked in the door. When Keith spoke to a woman, if she was sixteen or sixty, he gave her his full attention.
“What?” he said to Johnny when he saw him scowling after the departing waitress.
“I was just wondering if that woman was going to sit on your lap or go get our food.” Johnny’s gaze went again to the waitress, who was still watching them.
“She was nice and doing a good job. I made her feel good. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, if Ruth doesn’t mind.”
“Ruth knows I love her. She’d not mind me flirting a bit with a girl who needs to feel for a minute or two that a man thinks that she’s pretty, even if she isn’t.”
“Who do you think you are? Dorothy Dix?”
“Dorothy Dix? Who’s that?”
“The woman in the paper who gives advice.”
“Never read it.”
“I haven’t either, but I’ve heard about her.”
Keith leaned toward Johnny and slanted his eyes toward the corner where Kathleen was sitting.
“There’s a pretty redhead over there that’s giving you . . . or me the eye. Do you know her?”
“Yeah, I do. She’s Hod Dolan’s niece. She came down here about a month ago to buy into the newspaper.”
“Hod’s niece? Who’s that big dude with her?”
“Never saw him before.”
“Good-looking woman.”
“Yeah.”
The waitress came back to the table. “We got only two pieces of peach pie left. Want that I save them for ya?”
“Now aren’t you just too sweet for words. Of course I do. I’ll take them both.”
She took her eyes off Keith long enough to ask Johnny, “What will you have?”
“I’m not much for sweets.”
“Okey-doke. Be right back.”
Minutes later she returned with the food. Johnny had just started to eat when he became aware that Kathleen and the man with her were leaving the restaurant. He kept his eyes on his plate until he was sure that they were out the door. His appetite left him, and every bite he took seemed to stick in his throat.
• • •
Kathleen was quiet as she walked beside Barker on the way to her car. She had seen Johnny when he came into the restaurant, and she knew that he had seen her, yet he hadn’t as much as given her a nod of recognition. Not once had he looked her way after he and his friend were seated. She would have liked for him to have met Barker. She was sure that he would have liked him.
Dammit! Why was she feeling so down in the dumps?
“You’re quiet. You must be tired,” Barker remarked when they reached the car.
“I am a little tired. I’m rather put out with you for not letting me pay for my dinner. This was a Dutch-date, you know.”
“I’m not sure I understand this Dutch-date business. Me dumb Indian.”
Kathleen burst out laughing. “Dumb like a fox!”
“That’s better. I was afraid that you regretted wasting your evening with a lonesome old man.”
“Absolutely not. I enjoyed it . . . and you’re far from being an old man.”
“I’m in the middle of my life. My son is twenty-five. Your age.”
“I hope he realizes how lucky he is to have a youthful father. I never had a chance to know mine.”
“Ah . . . you’re an orphan. Maybe I should adopt you.”
“I’m a little old for that. Thanks for dinner. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow at the rodeo.”
“I’ll make sure of it.” He leaned down to speak after she got into the car. “Are you sure you’ll be all right? I’d feel better if I knew those two shied-pokes weren’t about.”
“Shied-pokes? What kind of word is that?”
“An Oklahoma word for someone you had just as soon not know.”
“Did you learn that word in college?” Kathleen teased.
“No, from my father, who sometimes used very colorful language.” His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I plan to be here for a few more days. If you have any trouble with that deputy or those other two, let me know.”
“I may not have any more trouble. Not after the news gets around that I’m Alfalfa Bill’s granddaughter.” Unexpecte
d laughter bubbled up. “Good night, Mr. Fleming.”
“Good night, Miss Kathleen.” He put his fingers to the brim of his hat.
Kathleen drove away leaving Barker standing at the curb. She liked him. He was easy to talk to, and he could converse on a variety of subjects. It was comforting to know that he was her friend.
She had enjoyed the evening until Johnny showed up. At times she thought that Johnny liked her; then at other times, like tonight, when he ignored her, she was sure that he had been looking out for her because of his obligation to her Uncle Tom. She wished that she could get him out of her mind. He was dark, quiet and completely controlled and, to her, utterly intriguing. There were unstirred depths in him that she longed to bring to the surface if they were reachable.
Damn you, Johnny Henry!
• • •
Clara snuggled close to Marty Conroy’s side and waited for him to stop the car on the little-used road outside of town. As soon as he turned off the engine and the lights, his arms were around her, his hand beneath her skirt.
“Baby, baby—” His mouth devoured hers.
“Marty, honey, not so fast,” she said as soon as her lips were free. “I was wantin’ to go honky-tonkin’. There’s a good nightclub right here in Rawlin’s.” She stroked the inside of his thigh, her hand teasing up higher and higher.
“I’m not sharin’ ya, sweetie. I want ya all to myself. Let’s get in back. More room.” They got out of the car. He opened the back door, pushed her down on the seat, pulled her skirt up, and fell on top of her. “I been thinkin’ of this all the way from Conroy.” His fingers worked their way into her panties. “Take ’em off, honeypot,” he whispered breathlessly. “I can’t wait.”
“You’re randy as a billy goat, Marty. Have ya been down to Del Rio to have that old Doc Brinkley give ya a goat gland?” Clara giggled as she obeyed.
“I don’t need help from a billy goat when I’ve got you.” He grabbed her hand and pressed it to the hardness in his britches. “See how I get when I’m with you. Get me out, baby.”
“After we do it, can we go honky-tonkin’?”
He plunged into her roughly before he said, “Sure, honey. Sure.”
It was over quickly for Marty. He sat up, lit two cigarettes, and gave one to Clara. He stretched out and put his feet up on the back of the front seat. He was a small man, utterly selfish, with an ego the size of a blimp.
