Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers]

by With Heart

  “Oh, wouldn’t it be grand if they got married? George had a rough time taking care of his mother and then having her murdered and being blamed for it.”

  “I understand that it was you, Mr. McCabe, who figured out who killed her.”

  “Hod had a hand in it, too.” The waitress came to the table to take their orders. “Choose the most expensive thing on the menu, Kathleen. We’ve got a rich man at the table.”

  “Oh, Keith, stop teasing,” Ruth said, which seemed to be something she said often.

  “I’ll have a roast beef sandwich,” Kathleen said. “And give me a separate ticket.”

  Ruth ordered a sandwich, then Keith and Johnny ordered steaks and fried potatoes.

  “Put it all on one check,” Johnny said in a tone that brooked no argument.

  Kathleen grimaced at him and poked him on the leg with the toe of her shoe.

  “You can pay our hotel bill if you want to, Johnny.” Keith winked at his wife.

  “That’s generous of you,” Johnny growled.

  Kathleen liked the McCabes. They were in tune with each other. Keith looked at his wife as if she were the most precious thing in the world. She cut his steak for him because he was holding the sleeping child.

  “Ruthy doesn’t have much of a lap right now,” Keith said to Kathleen by way of explanation.

  “I’m sure she noticed,” Ruth said, stabbed a piece of his steak with her fork, and put it in her mouth.

  They were halfway through the meal when Barker Fleming came into the restaurant and directly to their table. He spoke politely to all, then directed his remarks to Kathleen.

  “I saw your car parked down by the bank. It’s got a flat tire. I was concerned.”

  “A flat tire. Oh, no. Uncle Hod put new tires on my car when I left Kansas. I must have picked up something out at the field where I parked today.”

  “Is your spare in good shape?” Johnny asked.

  “It should be. Uncle Hod checked it and said it was.”

  Johnny got up from the table. “Stay here with Ruth and Keith. I’ll change it. Give me your keys.”

  “I’ll give you a hand,” Barker said, and followed Johnny out.

  Hod had made sure Kathleen had the equipment she needed for an emergency when she left Kansas. The spare tire as well as a jack, air pump, and tire iron were in the sloping trunk of the car. Johnny and Barker didn’t speak until the car was jacked up and the tire removed.

  “Son of a bitch,” Barker said as he pulled the tube from the tire. “It’s been slashed. She had trouble with a couple of roughnecks yesterday. I saw them hanging around on the street tonight. I’d not be surprised if they did this.”

  “What kind of trouble?” Johnny asked sharply.

  “They had her hemmed in, giving her some sass. A little knife in my pocket persuaded them to back off.”

  Johnny cursed softly. “I’m goin’ to have to break a couple of heads some dark night.”

  “Be glad to give you a hand,” Barker said.

  “I’ll not need any help with those two,” Johnny snorted. “She’ll need a boot to go in that tire if she uses it again.” He lifted out the spare tire and took a new tube out of a box. After he stuffed it in the tire, he attached the air pump.

  Barker stood by, watching Johnny work. The scene today with the little twit and Conroy had cut him to the quick. Johnny had had to endure slurs like that all his life. He had a right to be bitter, for the circumstances of his birth were no fault of his own. Barker had hoped to get to know him before he approached him with what he had to tell him. Now was not the time.

  Barker Fleming was not one bit disappointed in Johnny Henry.

  When Johnny disconnected the pump, Barker knelt and lifted the tire. He bounced it to test the amount of air, then fitted it on the axle.

  “That’s dirty work,” Johnny said, with a note of sarcasm he couldn’t conceal.

  “I’ve been dirty before,” Barker replied evenly, working on the lug nuts. “Let it down.”

  Johnny worked the jack handle wondering about the man kneeling beside the wheel. Was he in love with Kathleen? Had he come to Rawlings just to see her? He appeared to be genuinely concerned about her.

  After a little more air from the pump, Johnny kicked the tire and grunted his satisfaction. He put the tools away, slammed the trunk lid, and locked it. Without a word to Barker, he took off down the street toward the shoe-repair shop. Uninvited and ignored, Barker walked along beside him. Webb and Krome were lounging on a bench with their legs stretched out in front of them. Johnny kicked Webb’s feet.

  “Get up, you pile of horse dung, so I can knock you down.”

  Webb pulled in his feet, but remained seated. “What’s the matter with ya?”

  Krome snickered. “Did ya bring Daddy along to help ya?”

  Johnny grabbed his shirtfront and hauled him to his feet. “Shut your mouth, polecat. I’m telling you both to stay away from Miss Dolan. If I find someone who saw you slash her tire, I’ll come for you and stomp you into the ground.” Johnny shoved Krome from him. The man hit the bench with a crash.

  “What’s goin’ on here?” Sheriff Carroll walked rapidly toward them.

  “We were just sittin’ here, mindin’ our own business, Sheriff—”

  “—They jist come up and grabbed me,” Krome finished.

  “Johnny?”

  “Nothing to do with you, Sheriff.”

  “It is something to do with me. I’m the law here.”

  “If you’re the law, why haven’t you stopped these two from harassing Miss Dolan?” Barker asked.

  The sheriff turned on him. “Who’er you?”

  “Barker Fleming.”

  “I’ve not seen you before. You passin’ through?”

  “No. I have business here.”

  “Pussy business if ya ask me,” Krome said.

  “I’ll ignore that . . . this time.” Barker looked down at the man with hard eyes. “Next time I’ll put a fist in your mouth.”

  “Talks big fer a breed, don’t he?” Webb snickered, feeling brave with the sheriff present.

  “Keep your mouth shut,” Sheriff Carroll snapped at Webb, then to Barker, “What kind of business?”

  “I see no reason to explain myself to you. I’ve broken no law, but if you feel it necessary, Judge Fimbres will vouch for me.”

  “You might not have, but Johnny has. Brawling on the street is against the law.”

  “If you arrest me, arrest these two for slashing Miss Dolan’s tire.”

  “You didn’t see us do that,” Krome said gleefully.

  “I saw you do it.” Johnny’s intent gaze homed in on Webb.

  “You were in the restaurant,” Webb blurted, and Krome groaned.

  “Jesus Christ,” Sheriff Carroll said under his breath. “You two get out of town and don’t come back for a month. If I see you around here, I’ll throw your asses in jail.”

  “Hold on, Sheriff,” Barker said. “They owe Miss Dolan for the tire.”

  “We ain’t got no money,” Webb wailed. “You think if we had money, we’d be sittin’ here on the street?”

  “You’ve got a pretty good pocket watch.” Johnny reached over and jerked it out of Webb’s pocket and handed it to the sheriff. “You could get enough out of this at the pawnshop to pay Miss Dolan for a tire.”

  “That’s not the proper way a doin’ thin’s.”

  Barker said, “It’d save you feeding these two in jail for a couple of weeks, besides having a spread in the paper about two thugs slashing Miss Dolan’s tire and the sheriff not arresting them.”

  The sheriff looked at Barker for a long while. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

  Barker shrugged. “Maybe. I travel over the state some. If you’re sure you can handle this, Johnny and I want to get back to our supper.”

  “I’ll handle it.”

  Johnny and Barker walked back to the restaurant. At the door, Barker stopped.

  “I’ve had sup
per. So you plan to see Miss Dolan home?”

  “What’s it to you?” Johnny asked bluntly.

  “I like her. She’s a lovely girl. I don’t want those two catching her alone in the dark.”

  “She’s a twenty-five year old girl . . . a little young for you, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe, but just right for you, is that it?”

  “She might be age-wise, but that’s all.”

  “That’s something you’ll have to figure out. Tell McCabe that if he’s short a drover to driving the stock back to his ranch, I’ll give a hand, if he’s got a mount for me.”

  “Isn’t riding drag a little out of your line?”

  “I’ve done it.”

  “Christ! You’re just an all-’round jack of all trades, aren’t you!” Johnny declared rudely.

  Barker slapped Johnny on the shoulder. “I’ll be at the hotel.” He walked away leaving a puzzled Johnny to go into the restaurant.

  Johnny asked the waitress if they had a place where he could wash his greasy hands. She directed him to a back room, where he washed before he went to the table where Kathleen and the McCabes waited. He gave them a short rundown about what had happened, reporting the confrontation with Webb and Krome and noting that the sheriff was aware that they were the ones who slashed the tire.

  “’Pears to me like we ought to limber up those old boys a mite some dark night,” Keith said.

  “Something’s not quite right,” Johnny said. “I’m not sure if it’s the sheriff or the deputy. Hijacking is against the law. They should have put them in jail when I first turned them in.”

  “There’s someone who doesn’t want me here. Those two tried to keep me from coming into town. Adelaide said they seldom have hijackings around here. They were kind of dumb about it. I don’t think they’d done it before.” Kathleen’s eyes clung to Johnny’s face. He had avoided looking at her since he came back to the table.

  “We should get our boy to bed.” Keith moved his chair back and stood. “He’s all tuckered out. You’re tired too, aren’t you, honey?” he said to Ruth. “You’ve carried that girl around all day.”

  “It could be a boy. Don’t get your hopes up,” Ruth said wearily.

  “I’ve got to get home, too.” Kathleen got to her feet. “Thank you for the supper,” she said to Keith.

  “Where’s the ticket?” Johnny asked.

  “It’s all taken care of. Don’t get in a fret, boy. We’ll consider it even if you bring Kathleen down for a visit.”

  Kathleen’s eyes went quickly to Johnny. His expression was unreadable.

  “Thank you for fixing the tire, Johnny. I hope to see you again, Ruth.”

  “You will. I’d bet the ranch on it.”

  “Hold on.” Johnny took Kathleen’s arm as she made to leave. “I’ll see you home.”

  “You don’t have to bother.”

  “It’s no bother.”

  On the walk in front of the restaurant, Keith and Ruth turned toward the hotel, Johnny and Kathleen to where her car was parked in front of the bank.

  “Where is your truck?”

  “Behind the Gazette office.”

  “I’ll be all right now. Thanks again.”

  “I’ll see you home.”

  “How will you get back?”

  “I’ve got two legs, you know.” He opened the passenger door of her car and waited for her to get in before he went to the driver’s side. He tossed aside the pillow she usually sat on and got under the wheel.

  “Is Clara giving you any trouble?” he asked as he turned onto the rutted street.

  “I can put up with her . . . for a while. Hazel is worried. She didn’t come home last night.”

  “She shacked up with Marty somewhere. Maybe he’ll take her back to Texas. If he does, he’ll dump her somewhere.”

  “Who is he? You and Keith seemed to know him.”

  “He’s a distant cousin of Keith’s. Keith isn’t proud of it.”

  “Adelaide said that a few years ago she and Paul went to Red Rock to an air show. He was there selling oil leases.”

  “I remember that show. I went up for an airplane ride.”

  “Were you scared?”

  “For a few minutes. Then it was great.” He looked at her and grinned.

  They were silent until Johnny parked the car behind Hazel’s house and turned off the lights.

  “I hate thinking about you walking back to town. I’ve always heard that cowboys hate to walk.” She liked sitting with him in the dark and wished it didn’t have to end so soon.

  “You could walk with me.”

  “Then you would insist on walking me back.” She laughed nervously.

  “I could bring you back in my truck.”

  “You’d better be careful. I might take you up on it.”

  “You mean it? You’ll do it?”

  “Why not? It’s Saturday night.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Marty, get off me. I got to tell ya somethin’.”

  “You want to go honky-tonkin’,” he said with a deep sigh, rolled on to his side, and kicked the sheet down so he could see all of her naked body.

  “Ya really want to go?” Clara asked hopefully.

  “No. I wanna do this.” He grabbed her bare buttocks and pulled her to him.

  “We’ve already done it twice, Marty,” she protested.

  “We did it five times in one night in Wichita Falls. That’s what I like about you, sweetie. You know how to get me up. We could break our record tonight.”

  “Be serious, honey.” Clara propped herself on her elbow, leaned over him, and kissed him long and wetly. “When are we gettin’ married, sugar?”

  “How about Christmas?”

  “While we’re in Nashville?”

  “Uh-huh.” Marty tried to pull her over on top of him, but she resisted, and moved her finger down over his chest to burrow in his navel and then on down to his limp sex organ.

  “Can’t it be sooner?”

  “What’s the hurry?”

  “We’ve got to get married, Marty. ’Cause—”

  “This wouldn’t be any better if we were married.” He pressed her hand tightly to him.

  “We’d be together all the time and do it when you wanted to.”

  “Why have you got this bug all of a sudden to get married?”

  “Marty, I’m pregnant—” Her hand went to his cheek and turned his face toward her.

  He laughed. “You can still screw, can’t ya? Don’t think I ever screwed a pregnant woman.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Oh, good. I was afraid you’d be mad.”

  “Why should I be mad? It ain’t my kid.”

  “Yes, it is, Marty. It’s yours, and we got to get married.”

  Marty’s arm shot out, knocking her away from him as he sat straight up in the bed.

  “My kid? Oh, no. You’re not stickin’ me with a kid.”

  “It’s yours, Marty. What am I goin’ to do?”

  “Get rid of it. Shitfire! You’ve been around long enough to know what to do. Hell, you can get it done in Dallas or in Wichita Falls.” Marty turned and sat on the side of the bed.

  “It takes money for that. I don’t know why you’re so mad. You’re hornier than a billy goat and had to know what would happen.”

  “I’m not going to be tied down with a brat. How the damn hell do I know it’s mine? You spread your legs for anyone who walks on two feet.”

  “I do not! I’ve only been with you since we met.”

  “Yeah. Tell that to the man in the moon.”

  “Come back to bed, sugar. Let’s see if we can break that record. I really feel like I want to.”

  “I’m gettin’ the hell out of here.” He jumped up and started putting on his clothes.

  Clara bounced up out of the bed and stood naked in front of the door.

  “You’re not running out on me, Marty Conroy.”

  “
Oh, yes, I am. I never bargained for no kid.”

  “I didn’t get pregnant all by myself! It happened, and it’s as much yours as mine.”

  “You said you couldn’t have any brats, so I never bothered with rubbers.”

  “The doctor said maybe I’d not get pregnant again.”

  “Then let the doctor pay for it.” Marty was throwing clothes in a small straw bag.

  “You never intended to marry me in the first place, did you?”

  “You’ve got it right there. Mama would have a fit if I brought a cheap floozy like you home to Conroy.”

  “You miserable little rat! You ugly, dirt-cheap, little shithead! You never took me anywhere except to that dirty old rodeo. I’m surprised you didn’t try to screw me there. I begged you to take me honky-tonkin’, and you didn’t take me, not even one time.”

  “I didn’t want to be seen with you, you stupid bangtail. Didn’t you catch on? You’re as dumb as a pile of horseshit.”

  “Why did you tell me down in Wichita Falls that we’d get married and you’d take me to Nashville? I’d have screwed you without the lie.”

  “And I’d have had to pay you. It worked out better this way.”

  “You are cheap!”

  “It’s no big deal to let a woman think you’ll marry her. I’ve told that to more women than I can count. When they hear that I’m the Conroy from Conroy, Texas they all want to be Mrs. Conroy.”

  “Godamighty,” Clara shrieked. “Why else would they want a struttin’ little pissant like you? Certainly not for that peanut-size thing you’ve got ’tween your legs.”

  “Shut up!”

  “I won’t shut up. I’ll yell so loud that everybody in this hotel knows about . . . your peanut!”

  “Stop yelling, or I’ll slap you!”

  “You just try it, you horny little turd, and I’ll cut your head open with the heel of this shoe.” She grabbed the shoe with the sharp spike heel and drew it back threateningly.

  “Here, slut!” Marty threw some wadded-up bills on the floor at her feet. When she looked down at them, he swung his straw bag, knocking the shoe out of her hand. He quickly shoved her to the floor. “You’re not that good a whore anyway.”

  “You . . . you shithead.” Clara picked up three crumpled one-dollar bills. “You cheap dirt-eatin’ son of a bitch,” she yelled. “As soon as the courthouse opens Monday I’m goin’ to Judge Fimbres and have you declared the father of my child. I’ll tell him you raped me. I’ll make sure the hotel clerk sees me leave here lookin’ all beat-up! Then we’ll see how much good it does you to be Mr. Conroy from Conroy, Texas.”