“Yes, it is,” Dale answered. “But the wind isn’t doing my hair any favors.” Her jaw hurt when she spoke, and this morning she’d not been able to eat. There was a bruise on her cheekbone that she managed to cover with rouge. She had smeared salve on the welts on her buttocks before she pulled on her underpants, but she could not bear to put on the girdle Harry always insisted she wear. He would be angry when he found out.
“We haven’t had a frost yet, but when we do, the leaves will fall like rain.”
“My chrysanthemums are still blooming.” Kathleen Henry was a person Dale would like to have for a friend, but she knew that Harry would never allow it. “I’d just as soon the cold weather hold off for a while.”
“Was the reception as much of a success as expected? I had to leave early.”
“Oh, yes. We used all of the first cake that served fifty and most of the second cake. Many people had only coffee or tea. Theresa estimated that over a hundred came during the afternoon. A photographer was there taking pictures for the paper.” Dale glanced back to see a car coming slowly down the street toward them.
“I’d better scoot or I’ll be late at the clinic. Nice seeing you again.” She hurried away.
Kathleen wondered if the woman was not feeling well. She certainly wasn’t the friendly person she had met at the clinic. Her eyes had a haunted, or was it a frightened look, especially when she noticed the approaching car. When Kathleen glanced over her shoulder, she saw the car stop and Dale walk over to it. Later when she looked back again, Dale was still walking and the car had gone on.
As Kathleen entered the Gazette office, Adelaide looked up from her desk with a broad smile.
“Good morning. Can I interest you in a full-page ad?”
“Do I get a discount?”
“Of course. How’s the book coming?”
“Good. I’m really getting into it. I’m on chapter ten.”
“How many chapters?”
“I don’t know. I’ve set up the conflict and introduced the characters. That took care of the first third of the book. The last third will be tying up the loose ends and seeing that the villain gets what’s coming to him. The hard part is the middle third.”
“Interesting.” Paul came in from the back room. “What are we talking about?”
“Kathleen’s book,” Adelaide said. “Have you decided on a title?”
“I may call it Gone With the Wind.” Kathleen pulled off her scarf and fluffed her hair.
“Hummm. Seems to me I’ve heard that before.”
“A publisher would never allow me to use it even though a title can’t be copyrighted. I had thought of calling it The Heart Rustler, but my male readers might think it was a love story. So I’m naming it The Hanging Tree.”
“That should clear up any notion about its being a love story. When do I get to read it?” Paul asked.
“Not for a while. Did Judy get some good pictures at the reception for the doctor?”
“She sure did. I’ve been trying to get her to set her cap for the doctor, but she’s got a cowboy on the string. I don’t know what it is about cowboys that dazzles the girls.”
“Here, love.” Adelaide pulled a sheet of paper from her typewriter and handed it to Paul. “We met the doctor’s brother last night. They were having hamburgers at Claude’s.”
“Johnny told me the doctor had a brother named Pete who had been in the navy for a long time. Did you know that they are Johnny’s cousins?”
“Not until Johnny mentioned it yesterday. The brothers are both blond, but don’t look much alike otherwise. The doctor isn’t as heavily built as his brother. I wonder if Pete’s going to be around here for a while. He is a good-looking man in a rough sort of way.”
“I heard that, Addie.” Paul paused in the doorway leading to the back room.
“He isn’t as good-looking as you are, love.” Adelaide’s eyes shone when she looked at her husband.
“I’m relieved to know that.” Paul pretended to wipe sweat from his brow. “I was about to go mess up that guy’s pretty face. I’ve got a couple of pages ready for a proofer if anyone is interested.”
“I’ll do them for you, Adelaide.” Kathleen took off her coat and hung it on the hall tree. “I can’t get into the bank until nine o’clock.”
A man in an old felt hat and a shabby coat followed Kathleen into the bank. He was standing behind her when she told the teller that she Was there to sign papers regarding Johnny Henry’s loan. The man known in Rawlings as Robert Brooks could have reached out and touched her; but it would not have been wise, and he resisted the temptation.
That she didn’t recognize him as a coworker whose desk had been less than fifty feet from hers in the office at Douglas Aircraft for two years was a source of satisfaction to him. He was good at changing his appearance. His mother had told him many times that he should have been a movie star or an actor on the stage.
After Kathleen was directed inside the partition that separated the lobby from the office area, Mr. Brooks produced a bill and asked the teller for change. He put the bills in his pocket and went out to his car to wait for Kathleen to leave the bank. While waiting, he opened his observation diary and began to write in a small neat script.
9:30 A.M. Johnny Henry is taking out a GI loan. Kathleen went to the bank to sign the papers. She must have agreed to do that when he took her home from the clinic yesterday, but that does not necessarily mean they are getting back together. If they do, it will make it harder for me to do what I plan.
Last night that lowlife from the filling station went by her house a couple of times. Had he stopped, I would have been forced to take action. Using the night glasses I ordered from the Army Surplus store, I saw her standing in her bedroom window in her nightdress. Kathleen, Kathleen, it won’t be long until you will be safe. I will take care of you forever.
It was the middle of the morning.
“We’re getting there.” Johnny and Sherm, an old man he had known since he first came to the ranch, had been working since dawn on the corral. “In a day or two we’ll go down to McCabe’s and get my horses. You’ll have to go along to drive the car and trailer back. I’ve already made arrangements to buy a load of hay.”
“I ain’t never drived no car pullin’ a trailer, but reckon I can.” Sherm scratched his grizzled head and looked toward the house when the sound of singing reached them.
“Way down yonder in the Indian Nation
I rode my pony on the reservation,
In the Oklahoma hills where I belonged
“I don’t know why she has to play the radio so damn loud,” Johnny grumbled. He was not in a good mood. He wanted his house back. He wanted his wife back and in his bed. He was tired of sleeping on an army cot in the barn.
“Is she goin’ to stay long?”
Sherm glanced shyly at Johnny. It wasn’t his nature to ask questions, but he was thinking of moving on if Johnny’s sister was going to be here from now on. Before she came, he and Johnny had fixed decent meals, talked a while, or listened to the radio for an hour or two before he went back to the shack he lived in behind the barn. Now he dreaded going in to eat.
“I don’t know, Sherm. She’s sick, awful sick. I’m trying to get her to see a doctor. I’d consider it a favor if you’d overlook some of the things she says.”
“I ain’t ort to be sayin’ ubut she goes outta her way to be mean. It don’t seem like you and her could rightly be kin a’tall.”
“We had the same mother. That, I’m sure of.” Johnny hung the hammer on a strand of wire and squinted at a car that turned up the lane, came alongside the house, and stopped. “Now who can that be?” When a tall man in a light-colored Stetson hat got out of the car, Johnny let out a whoop and hurried forward. “Holy hell! Pete? Pete Perry, where in the world did you come from?”
“Howdy, Johnny. It’s been a long time.” The two men met and clasped hands.
“Doggone, Pete!” Johnny’s broad smile lit his face. “Doggone, I can’t b
elieve it’s you. Golly-damn, Pete. It’s been many a year. It’s damn good to see you.”
“Same here, Johnny-boy. How ya doin’?” The two tall men continued to clasp hands and smile at each other.
“Good. You?”
“Good. What’s it been? Sixteen years? When I left to go to the navy, you and Jude were kids. Now you’re men. Hellfire, where did the time go?”
“It didn’t go very fast in the Solomons. I heard you were on the Lexington. When it went down, I figured you were a goner.”
“Only the good die young, Johnny-boy. I was the meanest son of a bitch on Mud Creek. Remember?” Pete laughed. He was the same, just older. His blue eyes twinkled in the old devilish way. His blond hair was still thick and wavy.
“I don’t know about being the meanest, but you were working pretty hard to get there.”
“Yeah, I was. But I was taken down a notch or two when Grant Gifford beat the tar outta me that Sunday afternoon I crashed Henry Ann’s ice cream party.”
“I remember that. And I remember accusing you of rustling our beef.”
“That I didn’t do. Not because of you, but because of Henry Ann.” Pete clapped Johnny on the shoulder and grinned. “I wonder what ever happened to Chris Austin and Opal after he finally got the guts to leave home and take her to California?”
“Henry Ann said they came back when Mrs. Austin took sick. They have three boys and Rosemary, Opal’s daughter. Henry Ann said that she heard Rosemary had turned out real pretty.”
“She wasn’t mine,” Pete said quickly. “I know folks thought she was, and I let them think it. At the time I didn’t want to think that it was my pa who forced himself on the girl. I was afraid that if I knew for sure, I’d kill him.”
“That’s probably why Opal never told who raped her.”
“I look back now and wonder how Jude turned out the way he did, considering what we come from.”
“You didn’t do too bad either, Pete. Considering—”
“Considering what?”
“Well, considering you did everything you could to make folks think you were wild as a hare and horny as a billy goat.”
“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” Pete grinned sheepishly.
“Remember Marty Conroy?”
’Tom Dolan’s brother-in-law? I remember that I was itching to knock his teeth out. I still think he was the one who set Tom’s house on fire.”
“He’s over at McCalister serving life for murdering a girl right here in Rawlings.”
“Well, hallelujah! He was a son of a bitch if there ever was one. Not that I wasn’t one, too.”
“I’ll not argue that.” Johnny laughed, and slapped Pete on the shoulder. “Come meet Sherm. He lives here on the place and helps me out. I’ve got maybe thirty head of horses on a ranch down near Vernon. We’re trying to get this corral in shape so that I can go get them.”
“Let me give you a hand for a day or two. Your line of work is more up my alley than Jude’s. Isn’t it something ’bout Jude being a doctor? Little shit knew what he wanted and went after it.”
“From what I hear, he’s a damn good doctor. The three of us were damn lucky that we came through the war. Eighty-two men from right here in Tillison County didn’t come back. A lot of them were in the 45th Infantry out of Fort Sill.”
“That was Jude’s outfit. We talked last night until we were hoarse. I’ve decided to settle down around here someplace. Jude’s all the family I’ve got. I’ve saved a little money these last fifteen years and want to put it into a little place to call home.”
“What was your job in the navy?”
“Chief machinist’s mate. But that’s behind me. I’d like to have a horse ranch, but it takes a wad of money to get started.”
“That’s what I’ve got here, but on such a small scale it’s darn hard to make a living. I’ve applied for a GI loan.”
“I’ve been thinking about doing that.”
“I’d be glad for your help for a few days, Pete, but I can’t offer you bed and board. Isabel is here. She’s in bad shape. You’ll understand when you see her.”
“Jude told me.”
“She’s about as pleasant as a boil on the butt. I’ve been trying to talk her into going in to Jude’s clinic, but she won’t hear of it. She can’t walk across a room without stopping to rest, but she’ll nag you to take her to a honky-tonk.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Damned if I know. But considering her line of work for the past ten years, it could be most anything. She looks fifty years old.”
“Turned out like her ma, huh? I figured she would.”
“I get angry with her, but I pity her, too.”
“How is your wife making out with her here?”
“My wife lives in town.” Johnny turned, picked up the tools, and spoke to the old man. “I’ll fix us some grub, Sherm. You come on up to the house for noon. Hear?”
Sherm grunted a reply and shuffled off toward the shed.
“Come on in, Pete. Isabel has probably been looking out the window and wondering who is here. She can smell a man a mile away.”
As soon as Johnny opened the door and saw his sister sitting in a kitchen chair, he knew that she had tried to fix herself up in case the visitor came to the house. She was a pitiful sight. She had dampened her hair, brushed it behind her ears, and rouged her hollow cheeks. Her mouth was a slash of bright red. She wore a low-necked dress that showed her bony neck and a large sore on her collarbone.
“We have company.” Johnny walked in, then stood aside for Pete to enter.
“Hello, Isabel.”
Isabel attempted to put out her cigarette. With her eyes on Pete, she missed the ashtray completely and jabbed it repeatedly onto the oilcloth that covered the table.
“Pete…Perry? S’that you, Pete?” She attempted to stand and then sank back-down on the chair. The pain in her lower back caused her lips to tremble and brought tears to her eyes.
“Yeah, it’s me. It’s been a long time, Isabel.”
“I—never thought—I’d see you again.” Her voice was weak and hoarse. “You look just the same.”
“I doubt that, Isabel.”
“You’re heavier, is all.”
Johnny went to the living room and turned off the radio, then went to the sink to wash. He felt pity for the half sister who had taunted him all his life about his Indian blood. Yet when she needed help she’d come to him. She had wasted her life, and she had just turned thirty. He was probably the only person in the world who cared if she lived or died—and he wondered why he cared. She’d not throw a bucket of water on him if he was on fire.
“Have a chair, Pete. I’ll rustle up something to eat.”
“I’m so glad to see you.” Isabel had eyes only for Pete. “This place is deader than a doornail. Nobody comes here. The only thing that happens around here is that the wind blows. The damn wind blows all the time. It’s enough to give a body a duck fit!” Isabel’s voice turned into a whine. “Johnny won’t take me to town, Pete. He slips off and leaves me with that harelipped old billy goat that hangs around here. I’d give a man anything he wants for a night at a honky-tonk with good music and dancin’.”
Embarrassed, Johnny kept his head bent and his shoulders hunched over the frying pan he’d placed on the stove. Pete, however, didn’t seem to be uncomfortable with Isabel’s proposition.
“You don’t look like you’re up to a night on the town, Isabel, much less a night in a man’s bed. Johnny said you’ve been sick. What does the doctor say?”
“That crackpot said rest was all I needed. Hell’s bells, Pete. People rest when they’re old and can’t do nothin’ else. I’m sick of restin’.”
“What doctor told you that rest was all you needed?”
“One I saw in the city.”
“I’d not take his word for it. You need something more than rest. Why not go in and see Jude?”
“Jude! You’re kiddin’. That smart-mouthed shithead
wouldn’t know a snotty nose from a dose of clap.”
“You’re wrong. Jude went in the army after medical school. They had the best equipment, and he learned a hell of a lot from the best doctors. He may be able to help you.”
“I ain’t turning my ass up—to that pussyfooter unless he’s payin’ me. He did ever’thin’ he could to turn Hardy against me. He’d do his damnedest…to see that I croaked.” Isabel had to stop and take a breath.
Pete shrugged. “It’s none of my business if you’d rather sit here, dry up, and blow away.”
“We could go to town and have…some fun,” Isabel said hopefully.
“I’m not taking you to town and have you keel over on me. No, sir. I’ll take you to see Jude. If he says you’re up to it, we’ll go honky-tonkin’.”
“Shit!” The cigarette between Isabel’s fingers shook, dropping ashes on the table. “Jude always thought that he…was something on a stick. Bet now he thinks he’s Jesus Christ.”
“You’re wrong about that. Dead wrong. Jude isn’t like that at all. He went out onto the battlefield and dragged a wounded man to his foxhole. That’s how he got shot. Even with a bone sticking out of one of his legs he managed to get that man to safety.” There was pride in Pete’s voice. Anger too.
“Well, when I knew him…he was a smart-mouthed little bastard.”
“No, he wasn’t. Hardy married his ma. He didn’t marry mine. I’m the bastard in the family.” Pete got up from the table and went to the washbasin. A couple strokes from the water pump filled it.
“You…didn’t act like a bastard.”
“How is a bastard supposed to act? I’m not going to argue with you about Jude, Isabel. It’s up to you whether or not you want to help yourself.” He splashed water on his face. After he dried it on a towel, he turned his back on Isabel and spoke to Johnny. “Fried potatoes and onions. Lord, I haven’t had that in a long time.”
“It’s about all we have around here. I don’t know why we can’t have something decent to eat,” Isabel grumbled. “I’m hungry for spaghetti and tomatoes, but Johnny don’t care what I’m hungry for.” Both men ignored her.
“Are you planning on raising horses for the rodeo, Johnny?” Pete asked.
After the Parade Page 9
