Dorothy Garlock - [Route 66] (41 page)

It was while Harry and Alvin were standing in front of the cabin, trying to decide if it was safe to look in the car, that they heard Brady shout. Harry’s fifteen years of law experience took over, and, with gun in hand, he threw open the door.

“Thank God it wasn’t locked,” Brady said. “It would have taken a little time to bust in, and in the meanwhile …”

Margie sat on a blanket in the shelter of Brady’s arms. Mona sat beside Rusty, her eyes going often to her father. He had not said much since he and Jody returned from the funeral home. The burial would take place at ten o’clock day after tomorrow.

“Thank you for what you did, Mr. Wills,” Margie said. “They were going to kill us.”

“I’m sorry I shot the woman. I sure didn’t intend to hit her. I meant to stop the man from throwing the knife. He would have nailed me if I had hesitated. The woman could have shot me. She had a gun in her hand, but she threw herself in front of that sorry little weasel.”

“I understand how it was,” Foley said slowly. “I think now that I didn’t know her at all.”

“It happens like that sometimes.” Alvin passed behind Foley and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

The next day everyone moved around quietly, except for Anna Marie and Lucy. Totally unaware of the tragic events of the night before, they played happily. When they were not throwing the ball, they were tossing sticks for Blackie to chase.

Brady and Margie removed from the truck what she wanted to take with her. They unloaded Brady’s car and repacked it. Brady thought it best to put the tin box containing the money in Margie’s suitcase.

“We’re going to stay in hotels or motor courts on the way home, and we’ll take it inside at night.” She nodded in agreement, glad to leave the decisions up to him.

In the late afternoon Brady and Margie left the campground and drove to the downtown area, where Brady registered them at a hotel. He had made arrangements for Mona to take care of Anna Marie one more time, and she was happy to do so.

He carried Margie’s suitcase up a wide carpeted stairway and down a hall to the most luxurious room she had ever seen. The carpet was thick, and a big high bed dominated the room. The drapes were a rich wine and matched the bedspread. But best of all, there was a big white bathtub. Her eyes shone when she looked at her husband.

“How did you know that I wanted a bath more than anything?”

“I know you, sweetheart. You want to wash away every reminder of last night.”

“Not every one. Some I want to remember as long as I live. This, for instance.” She wound her arms around his neck and placed her lips on his.

“Margie, Margie.” He said her name twice. “I love you so much. I died a thousand times last night.”

“But you kept control.” She stroked his cheeks.

“My heart almost stopped when I saw his hands on you, a knife at your throat.” He kissed the small red marks made by the knife.

“I left that nightgown at the cabin. I never wanted to see it again.”

“We’ll buy you a new one.”

“I … don’t think I’ll need it.”

He laughed happily and hugged her tightly.

“I agree, sweetheart. Go take your bath. I’m going downstairs and order our dinner sent up. We’re going to splurge. We deserve it.”

Margie took a long, leisurely bath and washed her hair. When she came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her, Brady was sitting in a chair beside the window.

“I was looking for something to put on, and I think I’ve found it.” She snatched his shirt off the bed and fled to the bathroom.

“That might be all I’ll let you wear from now on,” he teased later as they ate the meal of roast beef, potatoes and creamed peas.

Margie looked into eyes that shone with pure happiness. Her pulse leaped, bringing color to her face. Her flushed cheeks made her soft brown eyes seem all the warmer.

After he had pushed the dinner cart out into the hallway, it was Brady’s turn in the bathroom.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered with a catch in his voice. “Be ready for me. I’m going to love you all night long.”

When Margie heard the water running in the tub, she closed the window shades, turned down the bed and fluffed the pillows. Then, more daring than she had ever been in her life, she hung Brady’s shirt on the back of the chair and looked at her naked body in the long mirror beside the closet door.

Her breasts were high and firm but not very big. She had heard somewhere that men liked big breasts. Her stomach was flat, her hips slightly rounded. She wished that her thighs were not so skinny. Suddenly fearing Brady would come through the door and catch her standing naked before the mirror, she hurried to the bed and slid beneath the smooth, cool sheet.

When Brady came out of the bathroom, he had a bath towel wrapped around his middle. His face was freshly shaven, and his hair was wet. Margie’s eyes clung to him.
He was so beautiful.

He came to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“You smell good,” she managed to say.

“It’s the shaving lotion.”

He moved, flipped off the towel and slid under the sheet. A choking sound came from his throat as he reached for her and clasped her naked length against him.

“You feel so good.” She clutched him tightly, her hand biting into the warm, solid flesh of his back.

The feel of his body, the stroking of his hands, the warm moistness of his breath, the love filling and spilling from her heart, brought her mindless pleasure. Being here with him like this was more wonderful than she had ever imagined.

They were feverish in their desire for each other. Blindly, passionately, he kissed her lips, then her breasts, drawing sweetly on the nipple he took in his mouth. With her fingers tangled in his black hair, she held his head to her breasts, never wanting him to stop that glorious torment.

There was no room in her mind for anything but him. He was her universe, vibrating with all the love in the world, and he lifted her to undreamed-of sensual heights. Then he was there, inside her. She was part of him. He was part of her. Her own flesh splintered with an exquisite explosion, sending her into a void where fireworks brightened a blackened sky.

Brady shuddered, clasped her tightly, his mouth devouring hers. After a while he turned onto his back, bringing her with him. He pressed her head to his shoulder; she burrowed into the hollow of his arm, tasting the moisture that dewed his chest. Her whole body pulsated still.

“Oh, Lord. Oh, honey, was I too rough? I wanted to make it last a long time.” He trembled and buried his lips in her hair.

“If it had lasted any longer, I might not have made it.”

“I wanted you to enjoy what we did together.”

“I enjoyed it so much I … thought I had died,” she whispered.

“Sweetheart, this is the first of many times for us. I love you, want you. I’ll have to have you again before the night is over.”

“You promised to love me all night long …”

He chuckled and kissed her lips again and again.

“Better get some sleep, darlin’, ’cause you’ll not get any after I get my wind back.”

She placed her hand over his thumping heart. “Cross your heart?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to finish the rhyme:
hope to die, cut my throat if I tell a lie.
But it was too soon, the image still too real. He held her to him and smothered a moan. Life wouldn’t be worth living without her.

The thought spiraled through his mind that he now had a better understanding of what his twin must have felt for his Becky.

While she lived, Sugar Luker had shown only contempt for the eleven people who stood, out of respect for the husband she had scorned, at the site of her final resting place

Rusty played his guitar and sang “Rock of Ages.” A prayer was said by the preacher connected to the funeral home, and the service was over. Sugar would forever be in this small piece of earth alongside the highway to California, where she had connived for so long to go.

The party followed Foley’s car back to the campground, where he would hitch his trailer to his car and continue along the highway to the place that held so much hope. Margie and Brady would get Anna Marie, who with Lucy Taylor had stayed with Mrs. Wills, say their good-byes and head for Colorado.

Tears streamed from Margie’s eyes as she hugged Grace.

“I’ll never forget you. You have been the best friends I’ve ever had.”

“Write, now. Hear? Brady gave us his address. I’ll write and let you know as soon as we’re settled.”

Margie put her arms around Rusty. “I know you’re going to be a big star in California. I’m going to be so proud that I know you.”

“If it happens, I’ll send you my autograph,” he teased, his voice husky.

“Alvin, how can I thank you? You are as solid as a rock. If I’d have been able to choose my father, it would have been you.”

“Well, now, that’s mighty nice to hear. I know that Brady will take good care of you; and if you ever get the yen to see California, you know where you’ll find a welcome.”

“Mr. Luker, I never got to know you like I did Alvin. I’m sorry for the grief you’ve had to endure on this trip and wish you the very best from here on. You have two great kids who are lucky to have you for their father.”

“I’m the lucky … one,” he stammered.

“Jody, I’m going to hug you whether you like it or not.”

“I’ll like it a lot even if Brady breaks my head.” “I hope you are happy in California; but if you’re not, come to see us, and Brady will make a cowboy out of you.” Margie kissed him on the cheek.

She shook hands with the Taylors, then moved on to Harry Wills and his wife.

“If not for you, Mr. Wills, Brady and I might not have left that cabin alive. I’ll always remember what you did.” She looked down at Mrs. Wills seated in her chair and smiled. “Your husband is almost as wonderful as mine.”

Mona was last. “Let me know how things turn out between you and Rusty,” Margie whispered. “Oh, I wish I could be at your wedding like you were at mine. Write to me …”

Margie fled to the car. After the last handshake, Brady followed. As they left the campground, Margie, tears in her eyes, waved a last good-bye.

Anna Marie in the backseat stuck her head out the window. “Bye, Lucy. Bye, Aunt Grace.”

Epilogue

June 1935
Rocking Horse Ranch

M
ARGIE DROVE THE SEDAN
along the lane that divided a stand of junipers. When she came out into the open, she could see the mountains, beautiful in their aloof loneliness. She rounded a low hill, crossed a rocky stream only a few inches deep, a few feet wide, the water clear and cold.

She loved this land, this way of life.

Anna Marie had not wanted to come along on this trip. She was enthralled with the new baby of one of the Mexican families who lived on the ranch and was eagerly awaiting the birth of her own little brother or sister.

Margie couldn’t wait for Brady to return home to share the letter she had received from Grace. Ramon had gone to town early that morning and had just returned with the mail.

She knew that she would get a scolding from her husband for driving the car out over the rough trail when the time was so near for her to deliver their baby. He was so dear, so afraid something would happen to her or the baby. The scolding would be punctuated with kisses, as was his habit.

The house came into view, and she eased the car up close to the old truck and stopped. It was going to be beautiful with four big rooms downstairs and two beneath the roof that sloped down to cover the wide porch facing the mountains. A large cobblestoned chimney rose from each side of the house: one in the living area, the other in their bedroom.

Brady and a number of workers were on the roof. When she drove in, he started down the ladder. With a worried look on his face he hurried to the car.

“What’s happened? Why are you here? Are you having pains?”

Margie got out of the car. “Nothing has happened. I’m here because I got a letter from Grace. No, I don’t have any pains.”

“Marjorie Hoyt. Someday I’m going to beat your butt—”

“Will you wait until after I have the baby?” She put her arms around his neck and leaned against him.

“I’m all dirty, honey.” He rubbed her back and nuzzled his face in the curve of her neck.

“Baby doesn’t care.” She took Brady’s hand and placed it on her protruding stomach. “Feel him kicking? He’s wantin’ out of there.”

“Sweetheart, I wish you’d be careful. I’ll be out of my mind by the time he gets here.”

“No, you won’t. You’ll scold and frown and look like you’re mad, but you’ll be just as happy as I am. Let’s get in the car so you can read Grace’s letter.”

“We want to finish the roof by tonight. You get in the car and tell me about it.”

Margie sat sideways on the seat, her feet on the running board.

“Grace said that the ice business is doing better than they expected. Isn’t that great? She said that Jody had been talking about coming out this way, but he met a girl at the radio station where Rusty has his program. Mona and Foley like her and wish that he’d settle down there.

“Foley hasn’t yet proposed to the lady he’s been keeping company with. I bet he’s afraid of being burnt again.

“Rusty’s program on the radio is getting to be more popular all the time. His song, ‘What I See,’ was sung by Woody Guthrie. Grace said that Rusty’s records are selling. Oh, I wish we could get one. And … guess what?”

He smiled at her enthusiasm, even though he was still bothered because she had driven on the rough trail. Her happy nature never allowed him to stay upset with her for long.

“I’ll never guess. Tell me.”

“Mona’s pregnant. Grace said that Alvin goes around with a grin on his face and that Rusty is walking on clouds.”

“I know the feeling.”

“She and Alvin will be good grandparents. They are the godparents of the little Wills boy. Who will be the godparents of our little boy?”

“Would you object to Ramon and Claudia?”

“Not at all. She’s turned out to be a really good friend.”

“Move over. I’m going to drive you home as soon as I tell the men that I’m knocking off for the day. There’s only an hour or two of daylight left anyway.”