Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers] (40 page)

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Red Rock was not nearly as large a town as Rawlings. Only the main street was paved. They passed through, and a mile out of town, Johnny turned into the yard of a neat farmhouse surrounded by huge pecan trees.

“Johnny!” As soon as Johnny got out of the car, a young boy came running from the house. “Mama, Daddy, Johnny’s here.”

“Is that you, Jay? Lordy! I thought your daddy had a new hired man. You’ve grown a foot.”

“You haven’t. You’re gettin’ shorter, Johnny.”

The two clasped hands, then wrestled a bit. It was clear that they were happy to see each other. By the time Kathleen had slid out of the car a slim woman and a man who looked amazingly like Hod had come out onto the porch.

Henry Ann Dolan, her face laced with smiles of welcome, hurried across the yard. Johnny went to meet her, put his arms around her, and hugged her tightly.

“Johnny! It’s so good to see you.”

“Hello, sis. I’ve brought someone to meet you.”

“I see you have, and I’m guessing it’s Kathleen Dolan.”

“You guessed right. Kath, come meet my sister, Henry Ann.”

“Hello.” Kathleen held out her hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Johnny.”

“Johnny and I had to grow up suddenly and fast when we had this farm to run. Meet your Uncle Tom, Kathleen. He’s been champing at the bit to get over to Rawlings to see you.”

Kathleen was suddenly enveloped in strong arms. “Welcome, Kathleen.”

“I’m glad to meet you, Uncle Tom. Oh, my, you look so much like Uncle Hod.”

Tom laughed. “I’ve heard that a lot. That red hair of yours reminds me of Aunt Biddy, our mother’s sister.”

“My mother had red hair. I always thought that was where I got it.”

“Your daddy’s hair wasn’t black like mine and Hod’s. It was a sandy color.”

“I don’t remember him at all. I was about two years old when Mama and I went back to Iowa to live with her parents.”

“Git yo’self on up here, boy, if’n yo ain’t wantin’ me ta tan yo hide.” A large colored woman, a blue handkerchief tied about her head, stood on the porch. Johnny strode quickly to the porch and put his arms around her.

“Hello, Aunt Dozie. You’re gettin’ prettier every day.”

“Hee, hee, hee! Yo is still jist a runnin’ off at the mouth, ain’t ya?”

“Kathleen, come meet the first girl I ever had a crush on.”

“Lawsy, ain’t ya jist as pretty as a redbird.” Dozie’s round face was split with a big smile.

“Thank you.” Kathleen held out her hand.

“I ain’t a handshakin’ woman. I a huggin’ woman, if it be a gal my boy here brung to see me,” Aunt Dozie said.

“In that case—” Kathleen’s laugh rang out. She put her arms around Dozie’s ample waist and hugged her.

“Ya like my Johnny, gal?” Dozie asked bluntly.

“He’s all right,” Kathleen’s twinkling eyes sought Johnny’s.

“Hee, hee, hee. Lawdy mercy. I gots ta show ya how to make tater pie. It keep him happy an’ like dough in yo hands.”

A little girl came out onto the porch and threw herself at Johnny, who caught her up in his arms. His hat fell to the floor of the porch as he nuzzled her neck.

“You tickle,” she yelled. Her fingers searched his shirt pocket and found a stick of chewing gum.

“Did you think I’d forget, punkin?” Johnny’s eyes caught Kathleen’s over the child’s head.

“Let’s go in,” Henry Ann urged. “Aunt Dozie is getting cold.”

Kathleen would remember this as one of the most enjoyable days of her life. At noon they gathered around the big kitchen table. Kathleen couldn’t keep her eyes off Johnny. He smiled continually. This was his family. He adored the children: nine-year-old Jay, six-year-old Rose, and baby Eddie. It was apparent that they adored him.

Later in the afternoon, while the older children were out playing and Aunt Dozie sat in the rocking chair with baby Eddie in her lap, Johnny told Henry Ann and Tom about Clara’s death and about it being ruled an accident when he was sure it was murder.

“I want to prepare you, Tom. I think it was Marty Conroy who killed the girl, and I’m going to do my best to see that he pays for it.”

“We haven’t seen him in years. He steers clear of here.”

Henry Ann looked at Tom before broaching a new subject. “I had a letter from Isabel.”

“I suppose she wanted money.”

“She didn’t ask for money this time. She said a man who claimed to be your father came to see her at the honky-tonk where she worked. He was part-Indian and according to Isabel well-off. Of course, she would think that anyone with two dollars to rub together was well-off.” Henry Ann waited for Johnny to say something, and when he didn’t, she said, “Isabel wanted to know if I had heard from you and if I knew the man’s name. I’m sure she wants to get in touch with him.”

“Sheesh!” Johnny snorted. “Why?”

“Only one reason that I know of. Money.”

“He came to see me. Told me he was my father. I want nothing to do with him and told him so. Ed was the only man I’ll ever think of as being anywhere near a father to me.” Johnny got up and stood looking out the back door, his hands in his back pockets. When he turned around, he had the saddest look on his face Kathleen had ever seen. “How did you escape the Perry curse, Henry Ann? All that inbreeding down on Mud Creek made Dorene what she is and Isabel what she is.”

“Being from Mud Creek had nothing to do with it, Johnny. Look at yourself. I couldn’t be prouder of my brother. Our mother was what she was because it was what she wanted to be. It’s the same with Isabel. Blood has nothing to do with it.”

Johnny’s eyes caught and held Kathleen’s. She knew what he was thinking and longed to reach out and hold him and reassure him. He came to stand behind her chair. She felt his fingers brush through her hair before they settled on her shoulders.

“We’d better get on down the road. It’ll be dark by the time we get back to Rawlings.”

Tom arose, gathered the sleeping child out of Aunt Dozie’s lap, and carried him into a bedroom. Henry Ann took the old lady’s arm and helped her up out of the chair.

“I sits ta long, I gets stiff,” Dozie explained.

After saying good-bye to Aunt Dozie, Kathleen and Henry Ann walked out to the car. Johnny and Tom had disappeared into the barn.

“Did you meet the man who says he’s Johnny’s father?” Henry Ann asked as soon as they were away from the house.

“Yes, and he is very nice. He had been looking for Johnny for a long time. He was just eighteen when he . . . had his fling with Dorene. Five years ago he learned she’d had a son who was part-Cherokee. He looked up the birth certificate and, sure enough, she had listed him as Johnny’s father.”

“Johnny seemed bitter.”

“He is. We don’t talk about Mr. Fleming. He came to Rawlings the other day and brought three of his children to meet Johnny. He wants to claim him as his son, but he’ll keep his distance as long as Johnny feels the way he does.”

“I used to get so mad when Isabel would throw it up to Johnny that his daddy was a dirty, drunken Indian.”

“Mr. Fleming came to see Johnny ride in the rodeo. He was so proud when Johnny won
All-Around Cowboy.
”

“I saw him ride one time. The bull tried to gore him. It scared me to death.” Tom and Johnny came from the barn and stood by the well. “Thank you for telling me about Mr. Fleming. I’ll not tell Isabel, but don’t be surprised if she shows up in Rawlings someday.”

“Johnny has me now. I love him, Henry Ann.”

“I’m glad. I love him, too. Johnny came to us an angry boy of fourteen. He hadn’t had a happy childhood. But after Daddy died, I couldn’t have made it without him. He worked like a beaver. Half of this farm belongs to him because without him I’d never have been able to keep it.”

Later, after they had said their good-byes and were on the road to Rawlings, Kathleen snuggled close to Johnny’s side.

“This has been a wonderful day. Thank you for bringing me.”

“You liked Henry Ann?”

“Oh, yes. She loves you. They all love you. You’re lucky to have such a family.”

“She and Ed took me in. I probably wouldn’t have amounted to a hill of beans without them.”

Kathleen tucked her shoulder behind his and hugged his arm. He took his hand from the wheel and held hers. She wished they could ride on like this forever through the dark vast prairie land. She had enjoyed the day, but . . . last night. There would never be another night compared to it. The only cloud on her horizon was the fact that Johnny hadn’t said anything about their getting married.

• • •

Johnny had a lot on his mind. Monday morning, he was up at daylight, did his daily chores and went to the shed where he worked on the stock tank that had sprung a leak. After he tarred the hole in the tank, he turned on the windmill to fill it and went to the house to fix a bite of breakfast.

His eyes were drawn to the sagging bed with the dingy covers as soon as he entered the door. Here he had made love to the only woman he would ever love. Thank God, the lamplight had been dim. And they had left before daylight. In the unforgiving glare of the sun the place looked like what it was . . . a shack.

Lord, she is sweet, loving, giving. How can I ever ask a woman like her to share my home
?

• • •

At midmorning Johnny headed to town to talk to Sheriff Carroll. He parked his truck on the street beside the courthouse and went into the sheriff’s office. Deputy Thatcher looked up when he entered.

“Whatta
you
want?”

“I want to see Sheriff Carroll.”

“What for?”

“None of your goddamn business.”

“Now see here. Ya better keep a civil tongue in yore head when talkin’ to the law.”

“Bullshit! Is the sheriff here or not?” Johnny raised his voice and slapped his palm down on the counter with a sharp crack to emphasize his words.

“Ya don’t have to get all shitty about it.”

The door of the inner office was flung open. Sheriff Carroll stood there with his hands on his hips, a scowl on his face.

“Who’n hell’s makin’ all that racket out here?”

“Wasn’t me.” Thatcher jerked his thumb in Johnny’s direction. “Was him.”

“Got a few minutes, Sheriff? I’d like to talk to you.”

“Go ahead.”

“Not in front of him.” Johnny imitated Thatcher’s gesture and jerked his thumb toward the deputy.

“Come in.” The sheriff went back through the door of his office. Johnny’s voice stopped him.

“Not here. Outside.” He glared at the deputy.

“Jesus Christ!” Sheriff Carroll stomped to the door. “This goddamn job is killin’ me.”

“Ya can always quit,” Thatcher said to the sheriff’s back, as he and Johnny went out and down the sidewalk.

“Why do you put up with him?” Johnny asked when they reached the curb where his truck was parked.

“’Cause I ain’t boss, that’s why,” Sheriff Carroll snarled.

“That’s what I want to talk to you about and why I didn’t want to say it where Doc’s stool pigeon could eavesdrop.” Johnny watched the sheriff closely before he continued. “I’d be obliged if what I tell you goes no farther.”

“I ain’t no blabbermouth.”

“I’ll take your word because Adelaide says that you’re a decent man who got his tail in a crack. That’s why I’m trusting you.” Johnny leaned against the side of his truck and folded his arms over his chest. “For the last four years I’ve worked on and off with the Federal Bureau on special cases. I’ve worked with Hod Dolan, Frank Hamer, and others.”

“Hamer, the Texas Ranger, who caught Bonnie and Clyde Barrow?”

“Hod Dolan and I tracked the Barrow gang’s movements. Hod and I found the farmhouse where Charles Urschel, the oil man, was kept when he was kidnapped by Machine Gun Kelly and his gang.”

Sheriff Carroll looked at Johnny with new interest. Johnny was silent for a minute or two, letting what he’d said soak in before he spoke again.

“Something’s going to happen here soon that’ll break Doc Herman’s hold on this town. Adelaide hates to see you go down with him.”

“That’s a pile of horseshit. He’s in here tighter than a miser’s purse.”

“I want to know if you’re with us or if you’re ears and a mouth for Doc.”

“If I cross him, I’ll lose my job. It’s plain as that.”

“At times a man has to do what’s right regardless. You’ll lose it for sure unless he’s in jail.”

“Jail? Shit! I was afraid it would come to this. It’s the clinic, ain’t it?”

“I’m not saying. Why did he want Clara Ramsey’s death declared an accident?”

“I swear I don’t know. He insisted and threatened my job if I didn’t go along.”