“She was nice and doing a good job. I made her feel good. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, if Ruth doesn’t mind.”
“Ruth knows I love her. She’d not mind me flirting a bit with a girl who needs to feel for a minute or two that a man thinks that she’s pretty, even if she isn’t.”
“Who do you think you are? Dorothy Dix?”
“Dorothy Dix? Who’s that?”
“The woman in the paper who gives advice.”
“Never read it.”
“I haven’t either, but I’ve heard about her.”
Keith leaned toward Johnny and slanted his eyes toward the corner where Kathleen was sitting.
“There’s a pretty redhead over there that’s giving you . . . or me the eye. Do you know her?”
“Yeah, I do. She’s Hod Dolan’s niece. She came down here about a month ago to buy into the newspaper.”
“Hod’s niece? Who’s that big dude with her?”
“Never saw him before.”
“Good-looking woman.”
“Yeah.”
The waitress came back to the table. “We got only two pieces of peach pie left. Want that I save them for ya?”
“Now aren’t you just too sweet for words. Of course I do. I’ll take them both.”
She took her eyes off Keith long enough to ask Johnny, “What will you have?”
“I’m not much for sweets.”
“Okey-doke. Be right back.”
Minutes later she returned with the food. Johnny had just started to eat when he became aware that Kathleen and the man with her were leaving the restaurant. He kept his eyes on his plate until he was sure that they were out the door. His appetite left him, and every bite he took seemed to stick in his throat.
• • •
Kathleen was quiet as she walked beside Barker on the way to her car. She had seen Johnny when he came into the restaurant, and she knew that he had seen her, yet he hadn’t as much as given her a nod of recognition. Not once had he looked her way after he and his friend were seated. She would have liked for him to have met Barker. She was sure that he would have liked him.
Dammit! Why was she feeling so down in the dumps?
“You’re quiet. You must be tired,” Barker remarked when they reached the car.
“I am a little tired. I’m rather put out with you for not letting me pay for my dinner. This was a Dutch-date, you know.”
“I’m not sure I understand this Dutch-date business. Me dumb Indian.”
Kathleen burst out laughing. “Dumb like a fox!”
“That’s better. I was afraid that you regretted wasting your evening with a lonesome old man.”
“Absolutely not. I enjoyed it . . . and you’re far from being an old man.”
“I’m in the middle of my life. My son is twenty-five. Your age.”
“I hope he realizes how lucky he is to have a youthful father. I never had a chance to know mine.”
“Ah . . . you’re an orphan. Maybe I should adopt you.”
“I’m a little old for that. Thanks for dinner. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow at the rodeo.”
“I’ll make sure of it.” He leaned down to speak after she got into the car. “Are you sure you’ll be all right? I’d feel better if I knew those two shied-pokes weren’t about.”
“Shied-pokes? What kind of word is that?”
“An Oklahoma word for someone you had just as soon not know.”
“Did you learn that word in college?” Kathleen teased.
“No, from my father, who sometimes used very colorful language.” His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I plan to be here for a few more days. If you have any trouble with that deputy or those other two, let me know.”
“I may not have any more trouble. Not after the news gets around that I’m Alfalfa Bill’s granddaughter.” Unexpected laughter bubbled up. “Good night, Mr. Fleming.”
“Good night, Miss Kathleen.” He put his fingers to the brim of his hat.
Kathleen drove away leaving Barker standing at the curb. She liked him. He was easy to talk to, and he could converse on a variety of subjects. It was comforting to know that he was her friend.
She had enjoyed the evening until Johnny showed up. At times she thought that Johnny liked her; then at other times, like tonight, when he ignored her, she was sure that he had been looking out for her because of his obligation to her Uncle Tom. She wished that she could get him out of her mind. He was dark, quiet and completely controlled and, to her, utterly intriguing. There were unstirred depths in him that she longed to bring to the surface if they were reachable.
Damn you, Johnny Henry!
• • •
Clara snuggled close to Marty Conroy’s side and waited for him to stop the car on the little-used road outside of town. As soon as he turned off the engine and the lights, his arms were around her, his hand beneath her skirt.
“Baby, baby—” His mouth devoured hers.
“Marty, honey, not so fast,” she said as soon as her lips were free. “I was wantin’ to go honky-tonkin’. There’s a good nightclub right here in Rawlin’s.” She stroked the inside of his thigh, her hand teasing up higher and higher.
“I’m not sharin’ ya, sweetie. I want ya all to myself. Let’s get in back. More room.” They got out of the car. He opened the back door, pushed her down on the seat, pulled her skirt up, and fell on top of her. “I been thinkin’ of this all the way from Conroy.” His fingers worked their way into her panties. “Take ’em off, honeypot,” he whispered breathlessly. “I can’t wait.”
“You’re randy as a billy goat, Marty. Have ya been down to Del Rio to have that old Doc Brinkley give ya a goat gland?” Clara giggled as she obeyed.
“I don’t need help from a billy goat when I’ve got you.” He grabbed her hand and pressed it to the hardness in his britches. “See how I get when I’m with you. Get me out, baby.”
“After we do it, can we go honky-tonkin’?”
He plunged into her roughly before he said, “Sure, honey. Sure.”
It was over quickly for Marty. He sat up, lit two cigarettes, and gave one to Clara. He stretched out and put his feet up on the back of the front seat. He was a small man, utterly selfish, with an ego the size of a blimp.
“Let me catch my breath, sweetie, and we’ll do it again. I’d drive all the way to California to get that. You’re the best piece of ass in Oklahoma. Texas, too.”
“Ya think so? Do I get ya horny?”
“Ever’time, sweetie. Every damn time.”
“We could go to the Twilight Gardens, dance a while, then come back here and do it again.” Clara said hopefully. “You’re somethin’ special, Marty. I want to show ya off.”
His hand traveled up her thigh to the junction of her legs. “I couldn’t feel ya up at the Twilight Gardens. I want to get as much of you as I can while I’m here.”
“You’re goin’ with me to Nashville, ain’t ya?”
“I’m thinkin’ about it, sweetie. You’ll knock their socks off in Nashville.”
“You said that maybe we could get married.”
“I haven’t forgot.”
“When, Marty?”
“As soon as I get my business taken care of, baby doll. I got to make money so I can buy pretties for my sweetie.”
“You got money?”
“Yeah. The town of Conroy was named for my granddaddy. Conroys are big-moneyed people in Texas. I always have a few irons in the fire. Come sit astraddle my lap and whisper dirty words in my ear. That always gets me hornier than hell. You do it so good, baby.”
Clara did as he asked and tried to act enthusiastic about it. When it was over, she was exhausted.
“Can we go now?”
“Why do you always want to go to cheap roadhouses?” he asked irritably.
“I like fun. Besides, they might want me to sing.”
“Fat chance. The singer with the band out there knows you’d show her up. She’ll see to it you don’t get near the stage.”
“We could just dance.”
“Come here, honey-baby. This is what you’re best at.”
Clara held her temper with an effort. All the horny little jackass wanted to do was screw. She was beginning to think that the big promises he’d made her were dry holes and that he had no intention of taking her to Nashville or even to a honky-tonk. She’d just have to get there on her own; and if he thought she was doing all this for nothing, he had a big surprise coming.
“How long ya stayin’, lover?”
“Until Saturday. Want to stay at the hotel with me tonight and tomorrow night after the rodeo?”
“Sure, honey. If you have a hotel room, why are we doin’ this in the backseat of your car?”
“A relative of mine is in town, and I want to be sure he’s not staying at the hotel. I’ll know by the time we get back there.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Naw, honey. Come here. I’m gettin’ horny again.”
“Are you sure you haven’t been to Del Rio?” Clara asked irritably, but Marty didn’t notice.
B
y midmorning on Saturday the fairground outside of Rawlings was a scene of bustling activity. Concession stands were being set up beneath the grandstand; cowboys were driving stock into the holding pens; and the crowds coming to the rodeo were arriving by car, wagon, horseback, and on foot.
The day was bright and sunny and, for once, the Oklahoma wind had taken a rest. The hard-packed red dirt in the arena had been stirred, dampened, and stirred again to afford a softer landing for those unfortunates who would be thrown from their mounts.
By the time Kathleen drove onto the field near the fairground and parked alongside the other cars, Emily was jumping with excitement. Hazel was quiet, obviously worried. Clara had not come home last night nor sent a word to her mother. This was not unusual behavior for Clara; but Hazel was anxious, always hopeful that her daughter would settle down and accept her responsibilities.
Hazel and Kathleen walked down the road to the fairground, Emily between them. Kathleen gave the tickets to the man at the gate and, holding Emily’s hand, went past the array of concession stands toward the bleachers.
“Do you want a soda pop now or later, Emily?” Kathleen asked.
The child looked at her grandmother, waiting until Hazel said, “You decide, honey.”
“Now,” the little girl whispered.
“All right. We’ll get it at the school booth. The band is raising money to buy a new set of drums.”
“Yoo-hoo, Miss Dolan,” Mrs. Smothers called as they passed the church stand. “Are you taking pictures for the paper?”
“Only of the winners,” Kathleen replied, and kept walking.
“Oh, well—” Mrs. Smothers words were lost as the school band began to play.
With the cold bottle of NeHi pop firmly clutched in Emily’s hand, they went to the bleachers and found seats on the fourth row near an aisle so that Kathleen could go down to the fence and take pictures. Beneath the shade of her hat brim, Kathleen scanned the working area for a glimpse of Johnny. Finally she spotted him leaning against a pole corral talking to a tall dark-haired man who was holding a small child. A blond woman, obviously pregnant, stood beside him. The man had been with Johnny at the restaurant. As she watched, the woman grasped Johnny’s arm and laughed up at him.
Kathleen tore her eyes away from Johnny and looked down at the Kodak in her lap. When she raised her eyes again, they landed on Barker Fleming standing at the end of the bleachers with the judge who had greeted him the day before at the courthouse. His eyes caught her looking at him. He raised his hand acknowledging her and continued his conversation. Her curiosity about him grew. He appeared to be as comfortable talking to a judge as he had been confronting Webb and Krome.
“There’s Mama,” Emily whispered loudly to her grandmother.
“Don’t point, sugar.” Hazel took the child’s hand in hers.
Kathleen turned her eyes toward the entrance to see Clara, teetering on high heels and clinging to the arm of a dapper little man wearing a large Stetson and a blue shirt elaborately decorated with white braid. The legs of his twill britches were tucked into cowboy boots that had large white stars inlaid on the sides. The man strutted like a turkey gobbler in a henhouse. It was almost laughable.
“Now, ain’t he a fine figure of a man?” Hazel said sarcastically.
“Who is he?” Kathleen leaned back away from Emily when she spoke.
“Mr. Conroy from Texas. He stopped in front of the house yesterday. Clara ran out and got in the car. I haven’t seen her since.” Hazel spoke in a loud whisper.
“Is he the one taking her to Nashville?”
Hazel snorted and rolled her eyes. An answer wasn’t necessary.
“His car is big and has a loud horn,” Emily said. “But he wouldn’t be nice. Not like Johnny.”
With raised brows, Kathleen glanced at Hazel over the child’s head. The little girl was very observant. She made no attempt to call out to her mother.