Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers]

by With Heart

  “You do that and I’ll . . . I’ll—”

  “You’ll what, big little man?”

  “I’ll kill you.”

  “Ha! Ha! You ain’t got the guts.”

  Marty went out, closing the door softly behind him, and hurried down the back hall to the stairs. Clara’s anger dissolved into misery, and she began to cry.

  • • •

  The evening was cool.

  Before Kathleen and Johnny had walked a block, she had goose bumps on her arms, but she was so happy being with him that she wouldn’t have mentioned icicles hanging from her nose. Johnny had put his hand inside her arm, slid it down to clasp her hand, and drawn her close to his side. Their steps matched and they walked across the school yard in companionable silence.

  “Johnny—”

  “Kath—” They had both spoken at the same time. Johnny chuckled. “You go first.”

  “No, you, or you’ll not tell me what you were going to say.”

  “Will you?”

  “I promise.” Kathleen knew that she was acting like a giddy schoolgirl, but she couldn’t help herself. It was so wonderful being with him. Unconsciously, she squeezed his hand and hugged his arm closer to her side.

  “I was going to ask you if you had used the typewriter since you had the table.”

  “Almost every night. I am so grateful for it. It sure beats sitting on the floor.”

  “Every night? You’ve got that much news to write?”

  “I’ll tell you a secret if you promise not to tell.”

  “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  “Poke a needle in your eye?” Kathleen laughed happily.

  “It’ll have to be a pretty good secret for me to go that far.” He liked the light chatter between them. He liked to hear her laugh. Does that mean that she is happy to be with me?

  “I’ll accept the ‘cross my heart.’”

  They crossed the street and reached the sidewalk. Johnny moved to the outside and took her hand again.

  “What’s the big secret?” he asked, wondering how he could keep her from feeling the pounding of his heart.

  “I write Western stories,” she whispered.

  “You what? Write stories?”

  “For Western Story Magazine. I’ve had six stories published and contracts for four more. Do you ever read the pulp magazines?”

  “No. I don’t read much.”

  “I write under the name of K. K. Doyle. My publisher said it’s mostly men who read the magazines, and they’d not want to read a story written by a woman.”

  “Humm. I wouldn’t think that it would matter.”

  “I see his point. I’ve never read a love story written by a man. Oh, maybe I have. Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet was a love story. What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun! That’s all I know of it, but it’s definitely a love story.”

  “Humm,” Johnny said again.

  “Doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

  “Not to me.”

  “Would you like to read one of my stories? I write about pounding hooves and blazing guns and hard-eyed strangers.” She laughed softly. “Everything is exaggerated. It makes for more exciting reading.”

  “How can you tell if the stranger has hard eyes?”

  “He stares, he squints, he scowls. His eyes are dull, flat and black . . . or blue . . . or gray. It’s fun making up the stories. I can kill off the bad characters and save the good ones. I make sure that if a girl is in the story, she likes the good cowboy wearing the white hat. The bad cowboys wear black hats.”

  “Is that what you were going to tell me?” They had reached town and were about to cross the street when a car shot past them. “Marty’s going somewhere in a hurry. I hope it’s out of town.”

  “He isn’t a very nice man. I wonder how Clara got mixed up with him.”

  “Birds of a feather,” Johnny said drily. “If there’s a rotten man in the country, Clara will find him.”

  “She didn’t come home last night. Poor Hazel worried all night that something had happened to her. Today at the rodeo she didn’t even come over and speak to her mother and Emily.”

  “Maybe she’ll leave soon. Hazel and Emily are better off without her.” He squeezed her hand tightly and looked down at her. “Now what was it that you were going to tell me. I’m not going to let you dillydally out of it.”

  “I’m not . . . dillydallying.” This new freedom to talk nonsense to him caused her eyes to shine when she smiled up at him. “I was going to tell you that next Sunday I plan to drive over to Red Rock to see Uncle Tom and Henry Ann and ask you if you’d like to go along.”

  She held her breath while waiting for him to speak. Had she been too bold? Johnny wasn’t like any man she had ever known.

  “You shouldn’t drive over there by yourself.”

  “Does that mean that you’ll go?”

  “My truck isn’t too . . . reliable.”

  “We can take my car if you’ll promise to fix any flat tires. I don’t have a spare now.”

  “You need a boot and a new tube.”

  “What’s a boot?”

  “It’s a piece of leather that fits over the hole inside the tire. I’ll get one and a tube and gas up the car.”

  “Are those your conditions for going?”

  “I’ve something else in mind, but I’ll not tell you now.”

  “Oh, you! I hate being in suspense!”

  There were still quite a few people in town. Some were sitting in cars watching the people on the street. A few of them yelled at Johnny.

  “Hiya, cowboy. Ya’ve lassoed a good-lookin’ filly.”

  “Hey, Johnny. Ya better get on home. We’re driving that stock out early in the mornin’.”

  Johnny lifted a hand to acknowledge the good-natured joshing and they walked on down the street and turned into the alley behind the Gazette building.

  “Was there anywhere you wanted to go?” It was dark in the alley, and his voice came softly and intimately.

  “There’s not much of any place to go in Rawlings.”

  “There’s the Twilight Gardens. But it would be crowded with drunks tonight.”

  “I’m not much for honky-tonks, but I like to dance.”

  “We’ll go over to Frederick sometime. They’ve got a fairly nice dance hall over there. They’ve had Bob Wills playing there a couple of times.”

  Kathleen’s heart leaped. Did he mean that he wanted to go out with her on a real date?

  “Sounds like fun.” She hoped that she didn’t sound as eager as she felt.

  “The light’s on in Paul’s room. Want to go in?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “I don’t want to bother them . . . him.”

  “You . . . know about them?”

  “They told me a day or two after I got here. They love each other. Adelaide worries because she’s older than he is.”

  “It doesn’t seem to bother Paul.”

  “Would it bother you?”

  “It might if the woman was sixty. I’m twenty-five.”

  “I’m twenty-six.”

  “Really? You don’t look over twenty-one.”

  “Thank you . . . I think.”

  Johnny chuckled, then drew in a shallow breath. His sore muscles were making themselves known. In the enjoyment of being with Kathleen he had almost forgotten about them.

  “Will you drive home tonight and come back to the fairground in the morning?”

  “I’m going to stay with Paul . . . rather, on a cot in the back room of the Gazette. In the morning Ruth will take me and Keith out to the stockyards before she heads home.”

  “I like the McCabes. They seem to be well suited to each other.”

  “Keith met her when he went to Kansas on an investigation. He fell for her like a ton of bricks. She’s just what he needed. They live with his grandmother on a ranch down near Vernon, Texas.”

  Johnny opened the door of his truck, pull
ed out an old blanket and shook it before spreading it on the seat.

  “You might get your dress dirty,” Johnny said, as she stepped up onto the running board.

  “It’s been dirty before.” She settled herself on the seat as Johnny closed the door and went around to get under the wheel. Kathleen was sorry that the evening was almost over.

  Johnny drove slowly out of the alley and down the street, dodging the potholes and the ruts, in an effort to make the ride easier.

  “We didn’t swing,” Kathleen said regretfully as they passed the park. “I’m just a kid at heart,” she added laughingly.

  “Shall we stop?”

  “Do you want to?”

  Johnny slowed the truck to a stop beside a big old pecan tree, but made no effort to get out.

  “I don’t want the evening to end,” he admitted suddenly.

  Kathleen turned to look at him. He had pushed his hat to the back of his head and was looking at her. He looked without speaking for so long that she became nervous.

  “What?” she finally asked. “Is something wrong?”

  After a full minute, he sighed. “There sure as hell is. One of those jolts today must have scrambled my brains. I don’t know what I’m doing here with you.”

  “Oh, well—” Kathleen’s heart suddenly felt like a rock in her breast. “I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you.” She tried to find the door handle so that she could get out.

  Johnny grabbed her arm. “Where are you goin’? What do you think I meant?”

  “It . . . a . . . seems to me that . . . you meant that you wished you were anywhere but here with me. That if not for me, you could be doing something you really wanted to do.” She finished with a rush.

  “I didn’t mean that!” The grip on her arm pulled her closer to him. “I meant . . . Oh, hell, I meant that this is the start of a hell of a lot of sleepless nights for me.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  The arm he put around her drew her up close against his chest.

  “Don’t say you’re sorry you’re here with me,” he said in an agonized whisper. A warmth ran over her skin, for he gave his words a sensual meaning.

  “I wasn’t going to say that. I don’t understand—”

  “You and I are not right for each other. Not like Keith and Ruth. They fit like a hand to a glove.”

  “Well . . . I’ll understand if you don’t want to get romantically involved with me. I’ll never throw myself at any man.” She almost choked on the words. “I had thought we could be . . . friends.”

  He groaned. “I’ll never be just friends with you. It will be all or nothing. And if it’s all, you’ll live to regret it. For me it would be like being in heaven and suddenly plunged into hell.”

  Abruptly he moved and gathered her in his arms. His mouth found hers before she was aware he was going to kiss her. It was not a light kiss. He kissed her as if he were a starving man. She felt his lips, his teeth, his tongue. She opened her lips to his as the intimacy of the kiss increased, and she felt a strange helplessness in her limbs. When he lifted his head his eyes were staring down into hers. She was breathing fast, and so was he.

  “I had to do that. I would have done it if I had known I would be killed for it.”

  “Don’t apologize. It’s all right.”

  “I’m not apologizing because I’m not sorry.” His strangled voice sounded miles from her ears. He cupped a hand behind her head and pressed hard fingers under the disarray of her hair and drew her flushed face into his shoulder. “I’ve been alone all my life. I don’t want to care for a woman, lose her, and be alone again.”

  “I’ve been alone, too, since I lost Grandma and Grandpa.” Kathleen burrowed her face in the warmth of his neck.

  “It’s different for you.” He stroked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “There isn’t a single man in town, some married ones, too, who wouldn’t give their eyeteeth to be here with you.”

  “I don’t want to be with any of them.”

  “You’ll meet someone.”

  “If you don’t want me, don’t shove me off on someone else.” Impatience with him caused her to straighten up and try to move away from him. His arms tightened.

  “I never said I didn’t want you. Calm down.”

  “Why are we even talking about this? I’m not going to fling myself at you like Clara did.”

  “Whoa. You can sure get worked up fast.”

  “It isn’t very flattering to know that you’re with someone who doesn’t want to be with you.” She moved back from him.

  “That isn’t it, dammit. You’ve not been out of my mind since I met you out on the highway.” His hands gripped her shoulders, and he shook her gently.

  “Then why are you saying these things? Can’t you just go along and let nature take its course?”

  “I can see where that path is taking me. I’ve never known a girl like you.”

  “I’m no different than most other girls.”

  “Ha!” he snorted. “You’re like a Thoroughbred running with a herd of wild mustangs.”

  In spite of herself she smiled. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me.”

  “Kathleen, you could take my heart and grind it into little pieces. I’m only trying to protect myself.”

  He pulled her to him again. With a swift look into her face he lifted her chin and fitted his lips to hers. He kissed her as openly and as intimately as a man could kiss a woman. Kathleen’s arm moved up around his neck, her hand caressed his nape. She had never felt anything like the sensual enjoyment she was feeling now.

  When he lifted his head, he looked down at the pale luminous oval of her face framed in the tumbled, gloriously red hair that was soft and shining in his fingers.

  “You’re eyes shine in the dark. Did you know that?” The gentle murmured words sent tremors of joy through her. He isn’t sorry that he kissed me. He enjoyed it as much as I did.

  “Like a cat’s?”

  “Prettier. Much prettier.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “Yours are pretty, too. I think about you when I’m describing the hero in my stories.” She cupped his cheek with her palm and reached for his lips. This moment was hers; nothing or no one could ever take it away from her.

  “I never expected the evening to end like this.” The note of awe in Johnny’s voice echoed Kathleen’s feelings.

  The awe was still with her when Johnny started the truck, and moved on down the road to stop in front of Hazel’s house. She sat close beside him, although he’d had to remove his arm from around her in order to shift the gears. After he had turned off the motor, he quickly put his arm around her again.

  “Tell me something. What about this Fleming fellow? Is he one of your beaus?”

  “Heavens no. He came into the office and bought a paper. He was interested in the rodeo. I saw him again after I left the courthouse the next day and ran into the deputy and the hijackers. The hijackers followed me down the street. Mr. Fleming came out of the bank and ran them off. We had supper together and he told me about his four daughters and two sons.”

  “And his wife?”

  “His wife died.”

  “And he’s looking for another one. He’s too old for you, even if he does own half of the tannery and an interest in a packinghouse, a thousand-acre ranch, besides stock in the electric company.”

  “How did you find out all this?”

  “Keith is a fountain of information. If he doesn’t know, he finds out.”

  “Mr. Fleming is a nice man. He was lonely for his family. I enjoyed his company.”

  “I bet.” Johnny removed his arm and got out of the truck. He came around and opened the door for her.

  “Johnny? Why don’t you like him?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because he’s a breed like me and has made something of himself.”

  “He had help from his family.”

  “No one can ever accuse me of that.”

  “Are you still
going with me to Red Rock?” Kathleen asked on the way to the porch.

  “Do you still want me to go?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then we’ll go. I’ll come in next week and get your tire fixed.”

  They stepped up onto the porch. He pulled her close to him. She felt him trembling and wondered at the cause. She moved her hands up to his shoulders. He seemed to hesitate, then lowered his head and kissed her swiftly. His arms dropped and he stepped back.

  “Be careful about being out after dark. The sheriff told Webb and Krome to get out of town, but they still may be here. I don’t want them catching you alone.”

  “I’ll be careful. Thank you for bringing me home.”

  “You’re welcome.” Still he stayed looking down at her.

  “I wish you could get into a tub of water and ease your aching muscles.”

  “How do you know they’re aching?”

  “I’ve seen you wince from time to time and even groan a little.”

  “I didn’t know I did that. Well, good night.”

  “Good night, Johnny.”

  Kathleen slipped into the house and leaned against the door until she heard Johnny start the truck and drive away. He was gone. She ran her tongue over her lips as his had done minutes before and her heart gave a joyous leap. Oh, Lord, how could it be that a few soft words, a smile, and a kiss from that cowboy could make her feel like this?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Riding behind the horse herd, Johnny grimaced as the bay he was on turned sharply. The animal had been trained as a cutting horse and knew without the slightest move from the man on his back that his job was to keep the herd bunched. Sore ribs and a crowded mind had kept Johnny awake most of the night.

  The stock being driven back to the McCabe ranch was in two groups traveling about a mile apart. Johnny worked the horses and McCabe the steers. It was a warm, still October day. The dark sky in the west promised rain or a dust storm. Johnny hoped that it was rain lurking in the clouds.