Circles in the Sand (14 page)

“Oh, so now it’s Mrs. Gilman…not ‘Dorris, baby?’” Lance asked. His remark caused laughing and snickering among the troops.

Saturday morning, Fritz sauntered into  Radecker’s Office. “So what’s going on with that negra’s murder.”

“Not much. I hear they went over Greybull pretty hard. His missing rifle could be the murder weapon, but he musta gave a pretty good account of his activities. Didn’t arrest him. I don’t believe they’re pushing too hard…dead nigra, stranger, no one around here knows. A lotta trouble for nothing.”

“I wouldn’t care if they hauled that Greybull outa here though. How they doing with their construction?”

“Don’t have anything up that I know about. Did show up last evening with another deuce…a Jeep engine mounted in the bed. Airman in Chet’s said it’s for spaying white wash on the impact targets.”

“Shit. Rate they’re going, I won’t have to worry about movin’ any steers for a long time. Maybe never.”

“Well, Greybull seems to be settling right in. Airman said he’s taking Dorris Gilman to a dance in Glasgow tonight.”

“That sonovabitch. I heard the preacher’s brother was sweet on her. So do you think Greybull’s cutting her out of the herd?”

“Hell, I don’t know, and don’t care. She’s a sweet lady. Surprised someone else hadn’t lassoed her before now. She’s been a widow for five years or so.”

“Somehow I don’t like the idea of Greybull being the one.”

“One dance doesn’t make a wedding. Actually…after Maybelle left, I was kinda surprised you weren’t after Dorris.”

Fritz’s face burned. He tried to control his ragged breathing. “Yeah, well she’s a fine lady, but why trade for sugar when you’re after honey.” He walked out.

Radecker thought to himself:
Dumb bastard. He’s so hooked on Marie-Elena’s pussy, he don’t have good sense anymore.

In the ladies quarters, Lorena and Dorris looked over the dresses in the latter’s closet. Dorris pulled a white dress off a hanger and held it in front of her before her mirror. “What do you think?”

“You know that’s a very pretty frock…when you wear it to church. I think you need something a little more modern.”

“You mean shorter, don’t you?”

“Sure. You’ve got great legs, Mom. Sergeant Greybull has seen you around here in several of these. So you can’t wear just an every day dress to a dance.” They went through this routine with the rest of Dorris’ ward robe. Lorena had an objection of one sort or another about all of them. Exasperated, Dorris took one covered with a paper bag from the very back of the closet. “I didn’t think you’d ever get to that one. When have you ever worn it?”

“A long time ago. Probably won’t fit anymore.”

“You won’t know if you don’t unwrap it.”

Reluctantly, Dorris pulled an ice-blue linen frock from the bag. She held it in front of her.

Lorena swept her hand down the fabric. “It looks sexy…it feels sexy. That’s more like it. Try it on.”

“You’ll have to zip me up.” Dorris stepped into the lower  part of the frock from the rear, and slipped her arms through the sleeveless front. Lorena zipped her up from the small of her back to the turtle neck.

“Oh my. This is  more like it. Turn around.” Her Mother did. “Oh, and there’s a little belt for it. Really sets off your waist. Hangs just below your knees.” Lorena paused and scrutinized her mother again. “And look how nice it fits tight across your chest.”

Dorris blushed, not from Lorena’s remark itself, but it triggered a memory of how much Royce Munson used to enjoy her breasts…and she enjoyed him enjoying her breasts. The memory caused a tingle through her body. Then she felt annoyed that the thought of that skunk would cause her to feel excited.
Oh my gosh. If I’m feeling sexy just from a bad memory, I’d better be careful tonight.

Clint’s preparations were less elaborate. After a long hot shower he dressed in clean underwear, including a v-neck t-shirt, comfortable dress slacks, a button-up sport shirt, and a sports coat. He topped it off wearing a western bolo tie with a carved jade talisman. He rubbed the jade for good luck.

When Clint returned to the café area, those troops who’d already used up their credit with Chet, sat around drinking coffee. “Hey guys, I need a volunteer for some extra duty tonight. Anyone willing?”

The airmen looked at each other and shrugged. Finally, Corporal (no one was used to calling him Airman Second Class yet,) Jewel said, “Since I didn’t go to Fort Peck today, going into Glasgow seems like a break. I’ll volunteer.”

I didn’t think about that,
went through Kline’s mind. All of them had been told, from day one in the Air Force, to never volunteer for anything.
Rats. Baby face boy gets to go.

“Thanks, Jewel. We’ll be leaving in my truck soon after supper.”

Dorris was no where in sight when the troops came back to eat. Lorena and the woman who helped with the cleaning waited table. Kline asked, “Where’s your Mom tonight, Lorena?”

“She’s busy doing other things.”

“Oh? Would that be getting dolled up for our fearless leader?”

“She doesn’t have to get dolled up. She’s pretty all the time.”

“I’ll bet she’s even prettier tonight. We can’t wait to see her.”

“Don’t you smart-alecks be giving her a hard time.”

“Who us? Tease a pretty lady? Nevah hoppen.”

“Hah. I’ve heard you clowns kid each other, and every one else. Sometimes you’re not as smart…or funny as you think you are.”

“That’s not fair. We’re not allowed to tease you. What else is there to do in this dreadful backwater of a small creek?”

“Oh stop it. There’s worse places than West Layover.” Lorena flounced back to the kitchen. Clint had remained a silent observer. As long as they kept it clean, he saw no harm with their talking to, chiding, Lorena. They knew better than to say anything suggestive to her. He noticed that Jewel was wearing clean neat civvies. Clint was a little surprised that he wasn’t wearing his blue uniform.

When every one finished eating, Clint walked back to the hotel and knocked on the door to the women’s quarters. Dorris opened it and stood back. Clint’s face bloomed into a huge smile. “I didn’t know I was dating  Misses Montana.”

“Does that mean I pass inspection?”

“Boy, do you ever. I knew you were pretty, but in that dress you are enchanting.”

“Oh, you sweet talking devil. You’ll turn my head…don’t stop.”

Clint extended his arm. “Cmon. I want to show you off to the assembled troops.”

She laughed. “Oh my, am I to be paraded like a war trophy?”

“Maybe I should have come armed. I might have to fight off the entire jealous force.”

Laughing together, they marched into the dinning room. The assembled airmen wolf-whistled in unison. Clint hollered, “Down, boys, down, This prize is mine.”

Watching from the kitchen, Lorena clapped and rushed out to kiss her mother good bye. “And be sure you have her back before nine!”

All the airmen groaned and threw napkins at the girl. “Don’t be a spoilsport, Lorena.”

Clint waved goodbye and motioned for Jewel to follow them out to his truck. Earlier he’d borrowed two large towels from Lorena to put on the bench seat. Clint handed Dorris up to the center and reluctantly told Jewel to climb in beside her. Clint getting into the driver’s seat wedged three relatively slender people together. The rough county short cut Clint took to reach U.S. 2 shook the three of them up like pickles trapped in a roller coaster ride. Once on the paved main road he glanced at his passengers to see how they’d fared. Grim faced Dorris said nothing. What disturbed Clint was Jewel pressed so tight against her. As tight as we’re packed, I guess there’s no help for it. Dorris thought differently.

Clint pulled into the state police parking lot. He didn’t see any Jeeps. Jewel went inside with him. After looking at Clint’s driver’s license, the trooper on duty told him the Jeep was in the lot directly behind. Clint started it up and drove around to the front. “Doesn’t seem any worse for its arrest. Think you can find your way back to Gilman’s from here?”

Jewel slid into the driver’s seat and said, “No sweat, Chief. I could drive back there blindfolded.”

“Forget that. Straight back and don’t drive into any ditches.”

Jewel gave him the thumbs up sign and drove away.
Glad they didn’t ask for
my
driver’s license.

Back on the street toward the dance hall, Dorris said, “I’m sure glad he isn’t driving back with us. He’s a fresh little thing.”

“Oh?”

“I know we were packed in pretty tight. But no mater how I tried to move my leg or hip away from his, I couldn’t.”

“Sitting next to such a lovely woman probably shook him up.”

“Shook him up? He’s a hot horny little twerp. Every time we bounced on the dirt road he brushed his arm against the side of my breast. And…I s’pect he was even more excited than that!” Dorris didn’t explain her last remark.

“I’ll be darned. And some of the guys think he’s queer.”

“I very much doubt it.”

Basil Tree drank beer at the bar adjoining the dance hall. Since the State Police hadn’t asked for him, and Radecker doubted there would be much investigation, Fritz Deutsch sent word to Tree he could come back and take a break, go to Glasgow if he wanted. Basil wanted. After nurse-maiding dusty steers, Basil really wanted this beer.

What he didn’t want, was the sight of Clint and Dorris finding a table on the far side of the room.
That Air Force sonovabitch…and with Dorris Gilman. The bastard. Did Fritz know they’d be up here? Probably. Must want me to spoil his fun. How? Could be tricky, Mrs. Gilman with him. Got to figure something.

Ever aware of his surroundings, Clint said, “Basil Tree is sitting at the bar over here.”

“I can see him now. I wonder if he’s seen us.”

“Probably.”

“I hope he doesn’t come over here. I’ve never liked him. He’s too darn rough.”

“I’m not fond of him either…one of Fritz Deutsch’s wolves.”

“You’ve had some trouble with him already?”

“Nothing real serious…he’s more obnoxious than trouble.”

As the waitress approached their table, Clint said, “What would you like to drink?” 

“Do they have mixed drinks here? I haven’t had a gin and tonic in ages.” Clint ordered one for her and a bottle of Coors for himself. By the time they finished their drinks, they could hear the band start up in the dance hall. Dorris tapped her foot in time with the music.

“Well, let’s go cut a rug, or what ever they do here in Outer Montana,” Clint said.

When they stood up, Dorris took Clint’s hand and dance-stepped him into the hall. He swung her out onto the dance floor and they moved smoothly into a two-step. Observing the band in their western clothes, Clint figured Stardust was probably just an opening number, and that many to follow would be country-western. He was right, but found they could dance to most of them. Dorris would hardly let him sit down to enjoy another beer. When she did, a man in a loud cowboy shirt came up to their table.

“Doris Gilman. I haven’t seen you in years. How are ya.”

“Donny McCune! I’m glad to see you again. This is Clint Greybull, my date.”

Clint stood to shake hands. “Glad to meetcha,”

Donny said. “We’ve known each other since I was a kid. You mind if I dance with her.”

“No, go right ahead. You two probably got a lot to talk about.”

Watching them dance, Clint observed they couldn’t talk too much. For one thing the band was too loud for conversation. Donny kept her out there for the next set, which didn’t bother Clint. He liked to dance with a woman, but tonight he figured Dorris was letting off a lot of steam after being widowed for five years.

Looking around for another woman to dance with, he could see that solo women were marked by their absence. Trying to break in every once in awhile, half-a-dozen stags hung around one corner. They watched Dorris with marked appreciation.
And no wonder. We’re probably overdressed. In her cocktail dress, Dorris was the belle of the ball. Most of the guys, if they wore jackets, must have shucked them. Don’t blame them. Downright hot in here now.
Clint hung his own jacket over the back of his chair. He pulled Dorris’ chair for her when Donny returned her. Donny offered to shake hands again. “I sure thank ya for letting me cut in. See ya around.”

“Anytime, Donny,” Clint said. “He seems like a nice guy. I just hope you don’t have a school reunion here tonight.”

“Clint you’re not jealous of Donny, are you? He’s too young for me. I expect you know his parents.”

“I’m jealous of anybody who looks at you.”

Dorris put her hand on his wrist. “Oh come on now.” Her face aglow. “This is our first date. You hardly know me.”

Well, I’d sure like to get to know you better.
But all he did was grunt and say, “Lets dance… before I have to set up a priority line…among all those young cowboys that have an eye on you.”

After two sets, Clint led her back to the table, and caught the waitresses eye. He wanted another beer and got a third gin and tonic for Dorris. After he paid for them, he said, “I’ve got to see a man about a horse.” Chuckling, “Will you still be here when I get back?”

“Of course, silly.” Smiling, “I need a ride home, remember?”

Glad she had a sense of humor, Clint headed for the men’s room. Watching a fight, by two men grappling on floor near the toilet, delayed Clint’s return. Sure enough, Dorris was dancing with Donny again.
I guess I can’t object to that.
He sat down.

“What’s the matter, fly boy. Can’t keep a halter on your date?” Basil Tree flopped into Dorris’ chair.

“Buzz off  Tree. We’re doing fine without your company.”

“Hey now, that ain’t very neighborly.” Beer-thick tongued, “I might want to dance with Misses Gilman too.”

“You’re so drunk you can hardly walk, much less dance.”

“Bull shit. Drunk or sober, I can do anything you can do, an do it a hell of  a lot better.”

“Speaking of bull shit, Tree. You’re full of it. You don’t have the balls to do anything I can do.”

“You son of a bitch!” Tree grabbed his bottle by the neck and with beer pouring over himself, stood to bash Clint with it.