People usually came to town on Saturday night, but there were far more than the usual number milling about because of the rodeo. Kathleen drove slowly down the street. All the stools were full at Claude’s when she passed. She finally found a place to park in front of the bank. She walked the short distance to the Golden Rule Restaurant, went inside, and sat down at a booth near the door.
The waitress brought her a glass of water and a cardboard menu. She was trying to decide what she wanted to have when she became aware that someone was standing at the end of the booth. She looked up to see Johnny glowering down at her.
“What the hell are you doing roaming around this time of night by yourself?”
“It isn’t night, and I drove the car.”
“It’ll be dark in fifteen minutes. Webb and Krome were sitting on a bench in front of the shoe repair not five minutes ago. They must have seen you park and come in here.”
“So what if they did? I’ll go to my car and go home. Do you think they’ll chase me on foot?”
“Where’s your boyfriend?”
“Boyfriend? What are you talking about?”
“The dude. The dressed-up city man.”
“Mr. Fleming? He isn’t my boyfriend. And my neck is getting tired looking up at you. Either sit down or go away.”
“Come sit with me and the McCabes. After we eat I’ll take you home.”
“Oh, no. I’m not butting in on your—”
Johnny picked up the glass of water that had been left by the fuzzy-haired, overweight waitress. He turned his back to Kathleen and spoke to her as she came to the booth.
“She’s moving over to our table.”
“Okey-doke. Be right with you.”
“Johnny, I don’t want to intrude on you and your friends. I’ll sit here; and if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll leave the restaurant when you do.”
“Don’t you like the McCabes? They’re good decent people. Or is it me that you don’t want to be seen with?”
“If we weren’t in this restaurant,” she muttered as she slid out of the booth, “I’d hit you right on that smart mouth.”
“Don’t let that stop you. I’ve been hit in the mouth in fancier places than this.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
With his hand in the small of her back he pushed her toward the corner table where the McCabes were sitting. Keith made an effort to get to his feet even though his son was asleep in his lap.
“Don’t get up . . . please,” Kathleen hastened to say.
“Sit down,” Ruth invited. “I need another woman to help me hold down these two wild broncs. They’re still all up in the air over the win at the rodeo.”
“Thank you. Johnny insisted that I join you. I didn’t want to intrude.”
“It’s a relief to be able to look at someone besides him,” Keith said, and reached over and kissed his wife on the cheek. “I can’t look at you all the time, sugarfoot. You’ve got to admit that Kathleen’s prettier than Johnny.”
“Don’t revert back to your wild ways, Romeo. You’re going home with me.”
“See what a tight rope she keeps on me? I can’t have any fun.”
“Oh, poor you,” Ruth said. Then she turned to Kathleen. “Molly’s baby is due anytime, isn’t it?”
“Around Halloween. Uncle Hod teases her about looking like she swallowed a pumpkin.”
“Does George Andrews still come to the store everyday?”
“Not as often as he used to. Molly said that he’s taken a liking to Catherine Wisniewski and her son Wally, and they to him. He spends a lot of time at the restaurant helping her now that Wally is away at college. Molly thinks that George had a lot to do with his going.”
“Oh, wouldn’t it be grand if they got married? George had a rough time taking care of his mother and then having her murdered and being blamed for it.”
“I understand that it was you, Mr. McCabe, who figured out who killed her.”
“Hod had a hand in it, too.” The waitress came to the table to take their orders. “Choose the most expensive thing on the menu, Kathleen. We’ve got a rich man at the table.”
“Oh, Keith, stop teasing,” Ruth said, which seemed to be something she said often.
“I’ll have a roast beef sandwich,” Kathleen said. “And give me a separate ticket.”
Ruth ordered a sandwich, then Keith and Johnny ordered steaks and fried potatoes.
“Put it all on one check,” Johnny said in a tone that brooked no argument.
Kathleen grimaced at him and poked him on the leg with the toe of her shoe.
“You can pay our hotel bill if you want to, Johnny.” Keith winked at his wife.
“That’s generous of you,” Johnny growled.
Kathleen liked the McCabes. They were in tune with each other. Keith looked at his wife as if she were the most precious thing in the world. She cut his steak for him because he was holding the sleeping child.
“Ruthy doesn’t have much of a lap right now,” Keith said to Kathleen by way of explanation.
“I’m sure she noticed,” Ruth said, stabbed a piece of his steak with her fork, and put it in her mouth.
They were halfway through the meal when Barker Fleming came into the restaurant and directly to their table. He spoke politely to all, then directed his remarks to Kathleen.
“I saw your car parked down by the bank. It’s got a flat tire. I was concerned.”
“A flat tire. Oh, no. Uncle Hod put new tires on my car when I left Kansas. I must have picked up something out at the field where I parked today.”
“Is your spare in good shape?” Johnny asked.
“It should be. Uncle Hod checked it and said it was.”
Johnny got up from the table. “Stay here with Ruth and Keith. I’ll change it. Give me your keys.”
“I’ll give you a hand,” Barker said, and followed Johnny out.
Hod had made sure Kathleen had the equipment she needed for an emergency when she left Kansas. The spare tire as well as a jack, air pump, and tire iron were in the sloping trunk of the car. Johnny and Barker didn’t speak until the car was jacked up and the tire removed.
“Son of a bitch,” Barker said as he pulled the tube from the tire. “It’s been slashed. She had trouble with a couple of roughnecks yesterday. I saw them hanging around on the street tonight. I’d not be surprised if they did this.”
“What kind of trouble?” Johnny asked sharply.
“They had her hemmed in, giving her some sass. A little knife in my pocket persuaded them to back off.”
Johnny cursed softly. “I’m goin’ to have to break a couple of heads some dark night.”
“Be glad to give you a hand,” Barker said.
“I’ll not need any help with those two,” Johnny snorted. “She’ll need a boot to go in that tire if she uses it again.” He lifted out the spare tire and took a new tube out of a box. After he stuffed it in the tire, he attached the air pump.
Barker stood by, watching Johnny work. The scene today with the little twit and Conroy had cut him to the quick. Johnny had had to endure slurs like that all his life. He had a right to be bitter, for the circumstances of his birth were no fault of his own. Barker had hoped to get to know him before he approached him with what he had to tell him. Now was not the time.
Barker Fleming was not one bit disappointed in Johnny Henry.
When Johnny disconnected the pump, Barker knelt and lifted the tire. He bounced it to test the amount of air, then fitted it on the axle.
“That’s dirty work,” Johnny said, with a note of sarcasm he couldn’t conceal.
“I’ve been dirty before,” Barker replied evenly, working on the lug nuts. “Let it down.”
Johnny worked the jack handle wondering about the man kneeling beside the wheel. Was he in love with Kathleen? Had he come to Rawlings just to see her? He appeared to be genuinely concerned about her.
After a little more air from the pump, Johnny kicked the tire and grunted his satisfaction. He put the tools away, slammed the trunk lid, and locked it. Without a word to Barker, he took off down the street toward the shoe-repair shop. Uninvited and ignored, Barker walked along beside him. Webb and Krome were lounging on a bench with their legs stretched out in front of them. Johnny kicked Webb’s feet.
“Get up, you pile of horse dung, so I can knock you down.”
Webb pulled in his feet, but remained seated. “What’s the matter with ya?”
Krome snickered. “Did ya bring
Daddy
along to help ya?”
Johnny grabbed his shirtfront and hauled him to his feet. “Shut your mouth, polecat. I’m telling you both to stay away from Miss Dolan. If I find someone who saw you slash her tire, I’ll come for you and stomp you into the ground.” Johnny shoved Krome from him. The man hit the bench with a crash.
“What’s goin’ on here?” Sheriff Carroll walked rapidly toward them.
“We were just sittin’ here, mindin’ our own business, Sheriff—”
“—They jist come up and grabbed me,” Krome finished.
“Johnny?”
“Nothing to do with you, Sheriff.”
“It is something to do with me. I’m the law here.”
“If you’re the law, why haven’t you stopped these two from harassing Miss Dolan?” Barker asked.
The sheriff turned on him. “Who’er you?”
“Barker Fleming.”
“I’ve not seen you before. You passin’ through?”
“No. I have business here.”
“Pussy business if ya ask me,” Krome said.
“I’ll ignore that . . . this time.” Barker looked down at the man with hard eyes. “Next time I’ll put a fist in your mouth.”
“Talks big fer a breed, don’t he?” Webb snickered, feeling brave with the sheriff present.
“Keep your mouth shut,” Sheriff Carroll snapped at Webb, then to Barker, “What kind of business?”
“I see no reason to explain myself to you. I’ve broken no law, but if you feel it necessary, Judge Fimbres will vouch for me.”
“You might not have, but Johnny has. Brawling on the street is against the law.”
“If you arrest me, arrest these two for slashing Miss Dolan’s tire.”
“You didn’t see us do that,” Krome said gleefully.
“I saw you do it.” Johnny’s intent gaze homed in on Webb.
“You were in the restaurant,” Webb blurted, and Krome groaned.
“Jesus Christ,” Sheriff Carroll said under his breath. “You two get out of town and don’t come back for a month. If I see you around here, I’ll throw your asses in jail.”
“Hold on, Sheriff,” Barker said. “They owe Miss Dolan for the tire.”
“We ain’t got no money,” Webb wailed. “You think if we had money, we’d be sittin’ here on the street?”
“You’ve got a pretty good pocket watch.” Johnny reached over and jerked it out of Webb’s pocket and handed it to the sheriff. “You could get enough out of this at the pawnshop to pay Miss Dolan for a tire.”
“That’s not the proper way a doin’ thin’s.”
Barker said, “It’d save you feeding these two in jail for a couple of weeks, besides having a spread in the paper about two thugs slashing Miss Dolan’s tire and the sheriff not arresting them.”
The sheriff looked at Barker for a long while. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
Barker shrugged. “Maybe. I travel over the state some. If you’re sure you can handle this, Johnny and I want to get back to our supper.”
“I’ll handle it.”
Johnny and Barker walked back to the restaurant. At the door, Barker stopped.
“I’ve had supper. So you plan to see Miss Dolan home?”
“What’s it to you?” Johnny asked bluntly.
“I like her. She’s a lovely girl. I don’t want those two catching her alone in the dark.”
“She’s a twenty-five year old
girl
. . . a little young for you, don’t you think?”
“Maybe, but just right for you, is that it?”
“She might be age-wise, but that’s all.”
“That’s something you’ll have to figure out. Tell McCabe that if he’s short a drover to driving the stock back to his ranch, I’ll give a hand, if he’s got a mount for me.”
“Isn’t riding drag a little out of your line?”
“I’ve done it.”
“Christ! You’re just an all-’round jack of all trades, aren’t you!” Johnny declared rudely.
Barker slapped Johnny on the shoulder. “I’ll be at the hotel.” He walked away leaving a puzzled Johnny to go into the restaurant.
Johnny asked the waitress if they had a place where he could wash his greasy hands. She directed him to a back room, where he washed before he went to the table where Kathleen and the McCabes waited. He gave them a short rundown about what had happened, reporting the confrontation with Webb and Krome and noting that the sheriff was aware that they were the ones who slashed the tire.