The Longest Road (41 page)

“Laurie Field.” Morrigan studied her, frowning. Suddenly, he laughed. “Why, sure, you've gone and grown up on me! We shared a camp once. You still got the harmonica?”

All Laurie could do was nod. From the back of the jail, she heard muffled coughing. Well, this was more than enough to bring on Way's asthma.

“I've wondered about you folks,” John Morrigan said. “Hope California worked fine for your dad.”

“He—he died out there.”

“And then she and her brother fell in with that old hobo locked up in the back cell,” Redwine said. “I gave him a job, tried to straighten him out, but like I've been telling you, Johnny, he went on a bender and stole a lot of expensive equipment.”

“He didn't,” said Laurie. “You got him drunk—that's why he left us. But he didn't steal from you any more than Marilys kidnapped Buddy and me.”

More to Johnny than to Laurie, Redwine said in an aggrieved tone, “I wanted to give the kids a chance, good educations, help with their music. If they'd stayed with me, they'd be making records by now like the Carter Family.” He shook his head. “Must be in their nature—they ran off with a tramp woman. God only knows what tricks she's taught them.”

“Here's one!” Laurie couldn't help herself. She kicked him as hard as she could on the side of the knee, hard enough to break the knee of an average man.

Redwine wasn't average. He lurched sideways and grunted. “So she's turned you into a tough little bitch just like her!”

“Marilys wasn't tough. You had her scared to breathe.”

“She'll be scared a sight more when she's tried for kidnap across a state line. Wonder if a woman fries faster than a man?”

Morrigan stepped between them. “What kind of talk is that, Dub? I don't understand what all this is about but it's pretty clear Laurie's not a child now and she doesn't think she was kidnapped.” He paused, catching and holding the older man's eyes. “Like I told you before, I can't see throwin' someone with bad asthma in jail for something you can't be sure he did. He didn't sound or look like a sneak-thief to me.”

“Next thing you'll want to hire the old bum!”

“Guess I would, if he's been a friend to Laurie and her kid brother.”

The two men dueled with their gazes. Way's coughing echoed along the corridor. The deputy said, “I don't want that guy dyin' in one of our cells. He better have a doctor.”

“Please,” Laurie said. “Please, Mr. Redwine!”

“Well, that's a change! To hear you saying ‘Please'!”

Johnny cut in. “W.S., let the man go or start hunting another partner.”

“Oh hell,” said Redwine. “Let him go!”

The deputy went down the hall, selecting a key from the ring at his belt. Redwine dropped a dark-furred hand on Morrigan's shoulder. “All right, boy. Have it your way.” He glanced dismissingly at Laurie. “It's too late to do what I wanted to for the kids. If they'd rather be oil-field trash, they're welcome to it.”

“Guess I'm oil-field trash, too,” said Johnny.

“You've been my partner in the company these past two years.” Redwine's tone softened and there was a proud light in his tawny eyes. He gave Morrigan an affectionate shake before taking his hand off the younger man's shoulder. “What's more, Johnny, you're like a son to me.” His eyes slued to Laurie as if he'd never seen her before. “Reckon you and this girl got some catching up to do. I'll see you out at the rig.”

Johnny nodded. “Okay, Dub. May have to shoot that well to bring it in.”

Redwine chuckled. “You're the one that can do that, son.” He went out without speaking to or even glancing at Way, who was gasping for breath between fits of coughing as he labored along the corridor.

Laurie hurried to slip her shoulder beneath his arm and help him into the office. “Would you please heat some water?” she asked the deputy as she eased Way into a chair.

“Can I borrow a cup of your coffee, officer?” Johnny was already pouring a cup from the enameled pot steaming on a hot plate.

“Make yourselves to home!” The deputy's moustache fluffed as he vented sarcastic exasperation but he did produce a washbasin, fill it, and set it on a burner.

Two cups of coffee controlled the worst of Way's gasping. By the time he'd inhaled steam from the basin while Laurie held a towel around it and his head, his face had lost its bluish pallor and he regarded Johnny with frank interest.

“So you're Laurie's Morrigan. Walked on any water lately?”

Laurie blushed. Johnny laughed. “Only on slush and bottom settlings. Why don't we go get some dinner?”

“Got to get back to my job or I won't have one,” Way said. He got up but had to steady himself against the wall.

“You drive over to the hotel and I'll bring you a sandwich and some lemon pie,” Laurie commanded.

“Can I get the same?” asked Morrigan.

“You can have anything you want,” she said, and took Way's arm in spite of his protests.

An hour later, Morrigan finished off his T-bone, glanced at his watch, and forked up the last delectable bit of lemon meringue. “Got to get out to the rig,” he said. “After all the grief that hole's given us, it better make a one-hundred-barrel well! We've lost two strings of tools down it, had to fish for five days for the last bunch. And the bit keeps twisting off. If we don't hit oil this afternoon, it's time for a good charge of soup.”

Nitroglycerin. Laurie didn't want to think about what an explosive that fractured rock formations could do to a human being. “If you're a producer, why don't you hire another shooter?” she asked.

“Because I'm the best.” It was said with a grin and without bravado. “Anyhow, the way Redwine-Morrigan Production works is Dub takes care of wheeling and dealing and I stay in the field. Suits us both right down to the ground.”

Laurie couldn't help but think it was risky to leave the finances and records to Redwine, but in the moments of talk they'd managed while she waited tables, she heard affection in Johnny's voice when he spoke of Redwine, so she forbore to fill Morrigan's ears with accusations against his partner. Redwine had wanted a son. Maybe he'd learned something since he drove his real one to suicidal recklessness. Anyway, Johnny was grown up. He'd have defenses against Redwine's possessiveness.

“Do you still have your guitar?”

“Hocked that one, but I have another. Say, I sure want to hear you play and sing.”

“I want to hear you, too.” She took the dollar he'd stuffed under the napkin and thrust it into his shirt pocket. “Don't try to pay for your dinner. It's a present from Marilys. She wants to meet you but she's been too busy cooking. Gould you come by our place tonight? Bring your guitar.”

“What I do tonight depends on that hole. But tell me where you live and when you're likely to be there. I'll come by first chance I get and we'll celebrate. If Crystal's not busy, I'll bring her.”

“Crystal?”

“My girl.” Pride and a hint of something else deepened his voice. “She's Dub's private secretary. Keeps the company's books.” He shook his head and sounded abashed. “Don't see how anyone that pretty can be so smart with numbers and all, but Crystal can figure percentages faster than a machine. Don't know what she sees in me. I wouldn't know a decimal if it kicked me in the teeth.”

Laurie felt kicked in her center. To find him after all these years only to have him crazy in love with this Crystal woman, a little awed by her.
I hate her—hate her!
It took all Laurie's willpower to hush that jealous wail. From things Johnny had said before, she reckoned him to be about twenty-five. He might well have been married by now. And she, Laurie, was going to have to try hard to like Johnny's woman because he loved her and his happiness was tied to her.

Still, Laurie's lips were so numb she could barely force a smile. “You'll certainly have to bring her to meet us.” Giving directions to the trailer, Laurie pretended not to see Johnny's outstretched hand. She called good-bye and her thanks as she hurried to take an impatient diner's order.

“I got a peek at your Morrigan,” Marilys said, spooning gravy over a mound of whipped potatoes. “Got a smile like sunlight breaking through a cloud. I like the way he moves—not brash or pushy but you know he's going wherever he starts.”

“Mmhm,” was as far as Laurie could trust herself.

“Isn't that something?” Marilys went on. “Imagine him being Dub's partner!” She made a face. “Your Morrigan's going to need all his guts and backbone.”

“He's not
my
Morrigan!”

“Why, honey!” Marilys put down the ladle and stared. “What in the world's the matter?”

“He—he's got a girlfriend!”

“Well, of course! Why wouldn't he?”

Laurie gulped and blinked at the stinging in her eyes. “I—I just—”

“Oh, sugar!” Marilys's blue eyes darkened. In a way that said she understood everything, she held out her arms. Laurie ran into them and burst into tears.

Crystal wasn't pretty. She was gorgeous. Long, silver-blond hair rippled when she threw back her slender throat to laugh with a tinkling that reminded Laurie of tiny hail stones striking glass. Johnny had shot the well late that evening, bringing in an eighty-barrel-a-day producer, so he looked tired but satisfied when he brought his sweetheart to the trailer. Shedding her fur coat into Johnny's hands, she revealed a jade green knit dress that molded her narrow flanks, small waist, and high firm breasts. Three-inch heels made her almost as tall as Johnny.

She glanced around the trailer's kitchen–dining–living room, gave an almost imperceptible shrug, and occupied the edge of the big easy chair that had been the family's Christmas present to Way. The place was meticulously clean. Marilys and Laurie had made striped monks' cloth curtains to brighten the beige linoleum, walls, and built-ins. The second bedroom was divided with painted wallboard for Laurie and Buddy, her side done in white and yellow, his in blue. The small bathroom was painted sage green and the shower had a matching curtain and mat. There was water and electricity.

It was the nicest place Laurie had lived. They were all proud of it, of owning their own home even if they rented the space it set on. Crystal behaved as if she might get dirty, though, and when Marilys offered coffee, Crystal examined the cup before holding it out.

One of Laurie's favorite dreams had been showing Morrigan the use she'd made of the harmonica, how much she'd learned, and how she could play the guitar, too. Her most favorite dream had been to hear him again, hear in reality the voice that had brought her such comfort on the worst day of her life, the voice she tried to evoke before she went to sleep, or when she was afraid or discouraged.

It
was
lovely to hear him though he didn't play the spirituals or blues but stuck to songs like “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes,” “The Very Thought of You,” and “Just One of Those Things.”

“Now it's your turn,” he said, smiling at Laurie.

She looked imploringly at Marilys, who got their guitar. Laurie had never before been reluctant to play. Now she didn't think she could with Crystal's frosted green eyes on her. But Marilys strummed and when Laurie held the Hohner, fingers gripping the engraved metal, what she knew took over, and she followed Marilys into “Tumbling Tumbleweed.” Buddy and Marilys sang, voices blending sweetly. Morrigan's foot started tapping as they moved into “Orange Blossom Special.” When they swung into “Ramblin' Boy,” Johnny joined in.

Finally, to play with him, weave her music in and out of his! “Do you know this?” he'd say, and then Laurie or Marilys would propose a song. Way beamed, moving his head in time with the tune. For a while, Laurie almost forgot Crystal was there. Johnny looked at Laurie and launched into “So Long, It's Been Good to Know You,” taking her back to that afternoon beneath the cottonwood when he came along and changed her life.

The others played or sang along but before they were halfway through, Crystal got out a pack of Camels and blew smoke toward Johnny. “For God's sake, Jackie, don't play that dismal old song! I've had enough of the Depression and Dust Bowl to last me ten lives.”

That put a damper on the party. They played a few more songs, but Crystal was swinging a long, silk-sheathed leg and fussing with the emerald pendant of the silver necklace that rested between her breasts. Her third cigarette filled the room with smoke. She tapped out her ashes in a saucer. Way started coughing, excused himself, and went outside into a cold north wind.

“Would you mind not smoking?” Marilys asked when Crystal shook out a fourth Camel. “I'm sorry, but you see, my husband has asthma—”

Crystal shoved the Camels back in her purse. “It's time we left, Jackie. Dub and I are driving to Oklahoma City tomorrow and we're leaving early.”

He unfolded his legs reluctantly but without protest and helped her into her mink. Laurie wondered how many animals had died to make it and devoutly hoped that Morrigan hadn't bought it for her. “You make me real proud I left you that Hohner,” he told Laurie. “I'll bet you and Buddy made more money off your music than I ever did.”

“Holy cow, Jackie!” Crystal's tone was shrill. “A man's supposed to have a job or own a business, not vagabond around with a guitar! If you hadn't cut out that nonsense by the time I met you, I wouldn't have looked at you twice.”

“All the same, my songs got me many a meal and bed when I was on the road.”

“If I were you, I wouldn't be proud of it,” Crystal said. She produced a smile for Marilys that was more a curl of the lip. “Thanks so much for asking us over, Mrs. Kirkendall. Jackie's always running into people he used to know.”

“You're welcome anytime we're home,” said Marilys.