Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers] (17 page)

BOOK: Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers]
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After Louise hung up the phone, she muttered, “Shit, shit, shit!”
If not for the possibility that Flossie was listening in, Louise could have explained the situation more clearly to Doc. One thing was certain—if she had to, she could take care of the little tramp herself.
• • •
“Is something wrong, Darrell baby?” The woman sat up in bed and leaned back against the headboard.
After Dr. Herman hung up the phone, he went to sit beside her. It gave him a warm intimate feeling when she called him by his first name. She was one of the few people who did. Almost everyone called him Doc, even his two sisters who lived in Ponca City. He pulled down the sheet and stroked the tops of her full breasts.
“Nothing that will take me away from you, Mommy.” He spoke in a little boy voice and bent to her breast, took the nipple into his mouth, and suckled lustfully.
“Then come back to bed, baby.” She held out her arms. “Mama will hold you.”
With little whimpers, he settled across her lap and took her nipple into his mouth again. She wrapped him in her arms and, while she rocked him, he sank his nose into her soft flesh and closed his eyes contentedly.
“Sing to me, Mama.”
The woman sang softly.
“A tiny turned-up nose. Two cheeks just like a rose. So sweet from head to toes—this little boy of mine.”
She rocked back and forth, smoothing the hair back from his forehead. “Be a good boy,” she whispered. “Be good or mama will spank.”
“I be good, Mommy.” He spoke around the nipple in his mouth.
After a while he reached for her hand and carried it into the opening of his pajamas.
“Want mamma to make you feel good, baby?”
“Uh-huh.”
The woman held him, playing the part of his mama and his lover. He was the strangest of all her regular clients. They had been in this room since last night playing the game of mama and baby. Her nipples were sore. She hoped that he would reach completion soon and go to sleep.
Each time he came to the city, which was every month or so, he called her, and she was glad to play the part he required for the money he paid her.
Chapter Ten
K
athleen parked her car behind the house and went through the kitchen to her room. The radio was on in the living room. Clara sprawled in a chair filing her nails. Hazel sat in the rocking chair with Emily on her lap. The child looked as if she had been crying.
“Ya been workin’ all this time?” Clara asked.
Kathleen ignored her and spoke to Hazel. “I think I’ll take a bath and go to bed.”
“Ya’ll have to light the tank.” After making that statement, Clara reached over and turned up the volume on the radio.
Smiling her understanding to Hazel, Kathleen went to her room, turned on the light, and closed the door. What a shame that such a sweet, gentle woman had a daughter like Clara! She would get latches to go on the inside of two of her doors of her room and a lock and key for the outside door. It would not surprise her in the least if while she was out, Clara prowled through her belongings.
Kathleen kicked off her shoes and, making sure the shades were drawn, pulled off her dress and went to the bathroom to light the burner beneath the water tank. It would be fifteen minutes before the chill was off the water.
While she waited, she took her manuscript and paper supplies out of the trunk. A letter to her publisher was long overdue. She rolled a sheet of paper into her typewriter and typed rapidly.
Dear Mr. Wilkinson,
STAGECOACH TO HELL, my story for the March edition of Western Story Magazine, will be in the mail the end of October. Since my move to Oklahoma, I have been unable to keep to my former schedule as getting settled into my new situation has taken time.
Let me assure you that GRINGOS DIE EASY, the story contracted for the June edition, will be in your office as scheduled.
Sincerely,
Kathleen Dolan
(K.K. Doyle)
After she signed the letter and addressed it, she took a quick bath, put on her night dress, and began to read the last few pages of her manuscript, despite the distraction of the loud radio in the next room.
“He jumped into the open, and dust spurted from his hat as a bullet slammed through it. His own gun spit fire. Durango yelled in sudden pain, and Frisco heard his body hit the ground. The Mex howled and swore as hot lead drilled a furrow along his ribs.
The blazing guns roared, throwing bullets in every direction.
Frisco aimed squarely at the crooked sheriff ’s breast and heard the hammer fall on an empty cartridge. He whirled around while he was still sheltered by—”
The volume of the radio in the next room was suddenly raised to a level that almost rattled the windows. Concentration was impossible. Kathleen put away her manuscript, turned out the light, and went to bed.
She would see Johnny on Saturday at the rodeo. Would he be cold toward her as he had been at the grocery store or as companionable as he had been on the walk home? At this time last night they were in the school yard and he was swinging her. She remembered how his arms had felt when they circled her waist to stop the swing. For an instant he had held her tightly against him. She would not have minded at all if he had kissed her. She had wanted him to.
Heavens! She was acting like a love-starved old maid. She’d had brief romances from time to time, but none of them had touched her deeply. The men had kissed her and held her close, but that was as much as she would allow. When the episodes were over, she’d not given them a second thought. She would have to be careful this time. A man like Johnny Henry could break her heart.
Long ago her grandma had said when her daughter and Kathleen’s mother died, “If there were no heartaches, how would we know when we were happy?”
Kathleen lay for what seemed to be hours with her pillow over her head in an attempt to blot out the blare of the radio. Her mind refused to let her sleep.
• • •
Hazel was apologetic at breakfast.
“She won’t stay long, Miss Dolan. She never does.”
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s just wait and see what happens. By the way, I’ll not be here for supper tonight. Where is Miss Sugarpuss this morning?”
“She’s still sleeping. I’m going to let her skip school today.”
“Is she sick?”
“Heartsick,” Hazel said, and turned away.
Kathleen drove to work and left her car on the street in front of the
Gazette
. Today she planned to go to the courthouse and ask to see the delinquent tax records so that she could do a story on how many farms had been lost since the start of the Depression.
After she finished her “Yesteryear” column and hung it on the hook beside the linotype machine, she put on her hat and walked quickly up the street to the courthouse. She entered the building, and was surprised to see that every door was closed. Looking at her watch, she discovered it was noon and decided to go to Claude’s for lunch while she waited for the offices to open.
Kathleen left the redbrick building, and as she passed through the arch of deer antlers that covered the walk, she came face to face with Deputy Thatcher. Standing beside him were Webb and Krome.
“Well, looky here, Ell. If it ain’t the sassy redhead from the
Gazette
. Reckon she’ll take our picture and put us in the paper?” Webb leered at her and moved to block her path when she attempted to go around the trio.
“Only if a buzzard flies down and scoops you up,” Kathleen said scornfully.
“Ain’t she a corker, Ell? Swear to goodness, she’s more fun than a two-tailed monkey.”
“Get out of my way, you dirty lout. I’ve nothing to say to you.”
“Don’t be in such a yank, Katydid. The law has stopped ya for a little chat. Least ya can do is be mindful of the law.” Ell spit a mouthful of tobacco juice into the grass beside the walk.
Kathleen shuddered with revulsion. She had forgotten about his small eyes and receding chin.
“Law?” she said scornfully. “That’s a joke. You’re a joke.”
“Watch yoreself, girl. Ya could find yoreself back there in my jail for a week eatin’ bread and beans.”
“Are you threatening to jail me? On what charge? Because I refuse to socialize with you? I’ll tell you something, you two-bit yokel. Mess with me, and you’ll find yourself in a jail cell.”
“Well, golly-bill. Listen to that. What’s all them big words she spoutin’ mean?”
“We’ve had city people come down here crowin’ before. It never got ’em nowhere.”
“Have you ever heard of Alfalfa Bill Murray?”
“’Course I have, honey. Who in Oklahoma ain’t? When he was governor he plowed up the ground ’round that big old mansion in the city and planted taters.” The deputy grinned cockily and winked at his two friends.
“He did that and gave the crop to the poor. He’s a good man, but he’ll be hell on wheels when he finds out his only granddaughter has been threatened with jail by a two-bit deputy who doesn’t have enough respect for his job to wear a clean shirt while on duty. If you annoy me again, my grandpa will be on you like a duck on a june bug.”
The laughter went out of the deputy’s eyes, and they turned mean.
“Ya think yore pretty smart.”
“Smart enough to know a big blowhard when I meet one.” Kathleen raised her chin in a superior manner, stepped around them, and proceeded down the walk. Her feeling of triumph faded when Krome and Webb caught up and flanked her.
“Ell wants to be sure ya get on down the street and ain’t bothered by nobody.”
Kathleen seethed as they crossed the street. When they stepped up onto the walk again she stopped and turned on them.
“Get away from me,” she hissed. “Get away now, or I’ll scream my head off. There’s enough good men in this town to hang you if I say you’re threatening to rape me.”
“Why’d ya want to do that?” Krome held up his hands as if to ward off a blow. “We’re bein’ gentlemanly. Ell told us to look after ya, and it’s what we’re doin’.”
“I’m game if’n it’s what she wants to do,” Webb smirked.
“You’re disgusting,” Kathleen said angrily and walked away. They followed. One of them touched her arm.
“Now wait, hon—”
Kathleen whirled around and balled her fist. “I’ll hit you again if you don’t get away from me!”
“Ya do, and ya’ll go to jail fer brawlin’ on the street.” Webb giggled.
“Miss Dolan.” Big and solid, Barker Fleming stepped out of a doorway and moved up beside Kathleen. “May I walk with you?”
“I would appreciate it.”
“There’s not room on the walk for all four of us.” Barker faced the men. The difference between them was vast. The two men looked as though they had slept in their clothes for a week; they each needed a bath and a shave. Barker Fleming was well-groomed and confident. “You two run along. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“And if we don’t?” Krome felt brave. He’d glanced down the walk to see the deputy watching.
Barker’s hand came out of his jacket pocket. The knife in it suddenly produced a blade.
“If you don’t want to be friendly, my friend here and I will have to do a little persuading. Get the picture? I’d mop up the street with your mangy hide, but I don’t want to get dirty.” Barker spoke as matter-of-factly as if he were talking about the weather.
Webb backed away. “She . . . it. He ain’t nothin’ but a breed,” he said loudly when he was a safe distance from Barker.
“Come on, ya fool!” Krome hissed. They went back down the street where the deputy waited.
Barker looked down at Kathleen. “That takes care of that.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m on my way to get a bite to eat. Join me?”
“I’d love to.”
“I like a woman who makes fast decisions.”
At the Golden Rule Restaurant, they took a table at the end of the room. Barker placed his hat on the empty chair. His thick black hair, with gray threads at his temples, sprang back from his forehead and hung to the collar of his jacket. His Indian heritage was very evident.
“I had a good meal here last night,” he said, and handed her the menu. She glanced at it and handed it back.
“A sandwich will do for me.”
While waiting for their order, Kathleen smiled into the dark eyes observing her.
“I wish you could have seen the deputy’s face when I told him I was the granddaughter of Governor Alfalfa Bill Murray. I was lucky the dumb cluck knew who I was talking about.”
“Are you really related to Alfalfa Bill?”
“Heavens no! I was reading about him in the 1932 edition of our paper this morning as I prepared for my ‘Yesteryear’ column. As governors go, he must have been an unpredictable character. I just threw in about being his granddaughter to see if it would work. It did.”
“I’ll have to keep that in mind. I wonder whose grandson I could be.”
“You’d have any number of good ones to pick from.” They laughed together like old friends.
“Now tell me why the men were annoying you.”
“It’s a long story. I’m not sure we have the time.”
“We can start it now and finish at dinner.” He watched her, concern pressing two little grooves between his eyebrows.
“I’d be glad for company for dinner. I was going to eat alone.” She picked up her fork and made little dents in the tablecloth.
“Good. It’s a rare woman who can make up her mind so quickly.” They smiled at each other. “Six o’clock all right? I’ll pick you up at the
Gazette
.”
“Tell me about your family.” It was amazing how comfortable they were with each other.
“My business keeps me away from home much of the time, I miss them.”
“I’m sure that they miss you, too.”
“I have four beautiful daughters and two sons. One daughter is at the university, one in high school, two in grade school, and my boy started school this year.” There was pride on his face and in his voice when he talked about his children.
“You said you had two sons.”
“My eldest is a rancher. Ah . . . here comes our meal. Are you sure that will hold you until dinner?” he said, looking at the small sandwich on her plate.
“It will be plenty.” Kathleen noticed the interested glances the waitress had given Barker. He was an exceedingly attractive man who would radiate confidence if he stood barefoot and ragged. His eyes were as black as the bottom of a well. Deep crinkly grooves marked the corners, put there when the eyes had squinted at the sun. There were other lines, too, that experience had made.
“I was an only child,” Kathleen said after the waitress left them. “I think it would be lovely to belong to a big family.”
“My mother was Cherokee. Cherokee take great pride in their children. I lost my wife five years ago, so I am both mother and father to my brood.”

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