“I’m . . . not sure, and I don’t think—”
“—You won’t be finished before I get back. Don’t leave. Wait here for me.” Johnny spun on his heel and was out the door before Kathleen could open her mouth to protest.
“Well. What’s got into him?” she sputtered. “He’s got a lot of nerve. I suppose he thinks that he’s doing me a great big favor.”
“He wanted to take you out and was afraid you’d turn him down. Men are babies about rejection. That’s why he got out of here in such a hurry.”
“Oh? How about a woman who tries to be friendly with a man because he has done her a favor, and he gives her the cold shoulder? Is she supposed to jump a mile high when he asks her out?”
“When did that happen? I can’t imagine Johnny Henry giving any woman the cold shoulder. He’s one of the most polite men I’ve ever met.”
“At the store—when I went for the ad. You’d have thought that I had the brand of a scarlet woman on my forehead.”
“Are you sure?” Adelaide frowned. “That doesn’t sound like Johnny. He’s even nice to Clara Ramsey. Lord knows she chased him enough.”
“Emily’s mother? I wondered why he was so at home there. They welcomed him with open arms.”
“They should. He’s taken Clara home a few times when she couldn’t make it on her own. She was pregnant again a few years ago and spread it around that the baby was Johnny’s. He never mentioned it to us. He may have not even known she was spreading it around. Knowing Johnny, I think that if it had been his, he would have done the right thing.”
“Where is the baby now?”
“It died right after birth. Clara left town after that. The last I heard she was down in Texas waiting tables in a beer joint.”
“That’s too bad. Emily is the one left to suffer the stigma of not having a father. She’s such a sweet, cheerful little girl.”
“That’s Hazel’s doing. She’s had the care of the child since she was born. Sometimes we think that we’ve got troubles. Clara came home with that baby and left without her. Hazel has done everything she could to keep a roof over that child’s head.”
“I’m taking her with me to the rodeo. She was so excited about it last night she could hardly eat her supper.”
The office door opened and two women scurried in. One was tall and thin. Her hair was scalloped around her face and held with bobby pins. The other one was about as wide as she was tall and wore a small hat with a tiny veil perched atop her henna-colored hair. They cast curious looks at Kathleen while they told Adelaide about the Methodist Church chili supper to be held after the rodeo.
Later a preacher in a black serge suit, sweat running down his ruddy face, arrived with a notice of a Pentecostal revival meeting that would begin on Sunday beneath a brush arbor a mile west of town. Every other phrase the man uttered was either “praise the Lord” or “hallelujah.”
“I know there isn’t a Lutheran church here, but is there one in one of the nearby towns?” Kathleen asked when the preacher left.
“None that I know of. Most are Pentecostal, Baptist, or Methodist. The churches here worked together creating the soup kitchen. They feed any hungry person who comes through. That’s one pie Doc Herman doesn’t have his fingers in.”
“The churches did that in Liberal, too. There were so many to feed after the dust storms. The people in the area were so kind. Those that had, shared. Ranchers donated beef, hunters went to Colorado and brought back deer or elk. The whole community united to help those in need.”
“We don’t have as many as some towns do. We’re too far from anything. Most of the folks in our soup lines come in on the freight train.”
“I thank God every day for my grandparents. If not for them, I don’t know where I’d be. They paid for my business school and left me a little money. Without parents, brothers, or sisters, I have only myself to depend on. I could have easily been one of the unfortunate ones without a home or a job.”
“You have your uncles.”
“Yes, and an aunt in South Dakota that I’ve never met. I want to take a Saturday afternoon off in a few weeks and drive over to Red Rock to see Uncle Tom and his family. I’ll come back on Sunday. I think it’s too far to drive all in one day.”
“Here comes Leroy Grandon. I think he’s smitten with you. He’s been in the office more often since you’ve been here than in the last couple of months.”
“Maybe he’s going to put in another ad,” Kathleen murmured, then, “Hello, Mr. Grandon.”
“Hello.” He nodded to Adelaide, then turned back to Kathleen. “I was wondering—”
“—About your ad? Do you have a price change?”
“Ah . . . no. I was wondering if you’d—” He glanced again at Adelaide who was busy typing. “I wondered if . . . you’d like to go to dinner and the picture show tomorrow night.”
“Well, ah . . .” Kathleen fumbled for words. “That’s very nice of you, Mr. Grandon. I’d love to go.”
“You . . . will?” His smile stretched his lips and showed missing teeth along his lower jaw. He wasn’t a bad-looking man when he kept his mouth shut, even if he was older than Kathleen by a good fifteen years. “I’ll stop in tomorrow and we can make plans. ’Bye.” He lifted his hand and was out the door. He was smiling as he passed the window.
“Oh, dear. What have I done?”
“Leroy is a nice man,” Adelaide said. “And he’s president of the Chamber of Commerce, even if it is a token position. He doesn’t have much say in running things.
“He’s a careful businessman. His store is well stocked, and he keeps it clean and orderly.
“He’s lonesome. His wife died about a year ago. They never had children and were devoted to each other. At first, the widows in town found any excuse to go to the men’s store. It was too soon, though, for Leroy. I’ve not heard that he kept company with any of them.”
“I couldn’t think of a logical reason not to go,” Kathleen confessed. “I saw how nervous he was and didn’t want to hurt his feelings.”
“You won’t have to worry about Leroy. He’ll be the perfect gentleman. Boring, but still a gentleman.”
“Tomorrow is press day. More than likely, I’ll fall asleep at the picture show.”
A little later, Adelaide broke the silence. “Pssst, Kathleen, we’re about to be honored by a visit from the big man himself.”
Kathleen turned to look out the window to see a small man wearing baggy pants and a white shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows coming across the street toward the
Gazette.
The wind blew his sparse gray hair back from a high forehead above a small-featured face. He wore round, wire-rimmed glasses.
“You don’t mean—?”
“I do mean.”
The man came into the office and without a greeting went straight to Adelaide.
“Louise said you’d had a nasty fall.”
“That was over a week ago, and it wasn’t nasty.”
“Have you suffered headaches, dizziness, nausea?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“You should have come to see me right away. Blows to the head are not to be taken lightly.”
“It wasn’t that much of a blow.”
“I should be the judge of that. You and this paper are important to this town, Adelaide. Your companion should take better care of you.”
“If you mean Paul, he’s the one who’s important to this paper. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
“Important in other areas as well . . . hum?”
“Of course,” Adelaide said coolly, and Kathleen let out a silent whoop of laughter.
Dr. Herman looked long and hard at Adelaide. She looked back and, knowing that he was attempting to intimidate her, refused to look away. He finally pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the lenses of his glasses. He put them carefully back on and turned to Kathleen.
“Introduce me to your partner, Adelaide.”
“Kathleen Dolan, Dr. Herman.”
The doctor took the few necessary steps to reach Kathleen and held out his hand. His grip was firm.
“Glad to meet you.”
“Thank you.”
I’m not glad to meet you, you cold fish.
“What do you think of our little town?”
“Very nice.”
“And we want to keep it that way.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“Do I detect a Yankee accent?”
“It’s possible. I was raised in Iowa by my Norwegian grandparents.”
“It’s been a long time since we’ve had a lady in jail for brawling on the street. Back in 1908 to be exact. Her name was Flora Eudora and she had flaming red hair.”
“What a coincidence,” Kathleen murmured drily.
“Yes, isn’t it? Flora believed that her husband was fornicating with the town whore.”
“Was he?”
“Of course. Flora met the woman on the street and attacked her. She knocked out a tooth and blackened her eyes. It was the wrong thing to do.”
“I agree. She should have attacked her husband, blackened his eyes, and kicked him in a place that would have discouraged his wanderings for a while.”
“Rawlings at that time was a mere speck on the prairie,” the doctor continued as if Kathleen hadn’t spoken. “The founder, a man by the name of Radisson Hoghorn Rawlings, was a man of law and order. Mistress Flora Eudora was hauled off to jail.”
Kathleen whistled through her teeth. “Aren’t you glad he didn’t name the town Hoghorn? I can see it now—
HOGHORN WEEKLY
GAZETTE
across the front of this building.” She smiled sweetly at the man standing beside her desk. “What happened to the whore?”
“She went back to work.”
“I’d have bet you’d say that. Are you the town historian, Doctor? We’re looking for some stories from the past for a new column. Perhaps you can help us out.”
“Young lady, this town has gone through some good times and some bad times. We’re in better shape than any other town our size in Oklahoma. It’s due to good planning, law, and order. During the early thirties a bank went under almost every day. Ours, here in Rawlings, remained solid.”
“That’s good news. Would you like for me to write an editorial on the economy in Rawlings? Of course, I’d need to have access to the city ledgers. By the way, I plan to attend the city council meetings. In Liberal, they were held the first and third Monday of each month. What is the schedule here?”
“We don’t have scheduled meetings. No need for it. If something comes up that requires discussion, we have a meeting.”
“You’ll let me know?”
“You’ll be given the minutes of the meeting.”
“Not good enough. I want to attend and become acquainted with the members. I’d be able to write a much better report.”
“The meetings are spontaneous. But we’ll try to oblige you.” Only the slight narrowing of the man’s eye revealed his irritation.
“Thank you.”
“Nice to have met you, Miss Dolan. Take care of yourself, Adelaide.” He walked out the door, crossed the street, and went into the bank. Neither woman said a word until he had disappeared.
“So that’s the man who runs things around here.” The statement hung in the air for a few seconds before Adelaide answered.
“Can you believe it?”
“Not to look at him.”
“He’s tough as nails. He was warning you, Kathleen. Word had already got to him about the little set-to you had on the street. He knows everything that goes on in this town.”
“He and the sherrif remind me of two dogs we had at home on the farm. One was a big, brown shaggy dog with a deep, loud bark. The other one was little, slick-haired, and quick. He looked like a gentle little pussycat. When strangers came, they would watch the big dog with the loud bark, and the little one would slip up and bite them.”
Paul came from the back room with a worried frown on his face. His eyes sought Adelaide’s. Kathleen had never seen him enter the office without first finding his Addie with his eyes. His devotion to her, and hers to him, was like a tangible thing. It reminded Kathleen of the love between her grandparents. When her grandmother died, the life had gone out of her grandpa, and he had died soon after.
Kathleen turned back to face the window and heard Paul speaking softly to Adelaide, asking her if she was tired. He would be behind her now, rubbing the spot between her shoulders, but with his eye on the door lest someone come in and observe him. Desolation washed over Kathleen. Seldom did she admit even to herself that it would be heavenly to have someone to lean on, to share her joys and her sorrows. Would she ever know the kind of love that Adelaide knew? Right now that seemed to be as remote as the moon.
• • •
Johnny drove slowly along the dirt road trying to stir up as little dust as possible when he passed the lines full of freshly washed clothes. On the road ahead he saw a woman in high-heeled shoes struggling along, carrying a heavy suitcase.
Clara Ramsey.
No doubt about it. How long had she been gone this time? Six months? A year? How long would she stay? Johnny hoped not for long. She reminded him of his half sister, Isabel. Tramps, both of them. Nothing or nobody would ever change them.