Barker heard the tears in her voice, and wished there were something he could say to ease her anxiety.
“Surely he won’t think that there’s . . . anything between you and me.”
“I don’t know what he thinks. He said that he and I were not right for each other. He doesn’t want to get involved with me.”
“Then he doesn’t have as much sense as I thought he had.”
• • •
When Johnny came up out of the gully and saw Barker Fleming’s car blocking the road, he felt anger; but when he saw who was in it with him, he felt as if he had been kicked in the stomach by a mustang. His whole thought process had shut down. By the time he got the calves penned he was thinking again.
The son of a bitch was making a play for Kathleen!
The thought came to him on the way to the house. And Kathleen was falling for it. Why not? Fleming could give her a hell of a lot more than he’d ever be able to give her. It was a good thing to find out about them now before he made more a fool of himself than he had last night.
Johnny’s mind churned while he got out a hunk of cheese and some crackers for his supper. He would have to give some thought as to how to let her know that he wouldn’t be going to Red Rock next Sunday without having to go into the
Gazette
to tell her.
It would be hell to be cooped up in the car with her and have to put on an act in front of Henry Ann and Tom. He was not good in such complicated situations and he was not going to subject himself to handling them. From now on, if he wanted any peace of mind at all, he’d better put as much distance as possible between himself and Miss Kathleen Dolan.
And as for Barker Fleming, he was on the bottom of Johnny’s list of concerns.
D
r. Herman was eating breakfast when Rita, his housekeeper, let Louise into the house.
“Mornin’, Doc. Glad you’re back.”
“Mornin’, pretty lady. Rita, get Louise a cup of coffee.”
“How was the conference?”
“Informative, as usual.”
Louise waited to speak until Rita had brought the coffee and she heard her in the room off the kitchen loading the washing machine.
“Clara Ramsey is back and demanding money.”
“Is that what you called me about?”
“I was afraid to say too much. I never know when Flossie is listening in.”
“Did she say how much she wanted, or was she after anything she could get?” Doc split a biscuit and spooned gravy over it.
“She wants a hundred dollars.”
“Hummm—”
“She said that she was going to Nashville. The silly twit thinks she can get on the Grand Ole Opry.”
“Hummm—”
“She threatened to talk to that Dolan woman at the
Gazette
. She rooms at Hazel’s.”
Doc’s head came up. “She would get herself in a lot of trouble.”
“She isn’t smart enough to realize that.”
“I don’t want to give Miss Dolan any excuse to nose around. She has no loyalty to this town. She’s a hard, brazen bitch!”
“I think so, too. She has a smart mouth and the guts to go with it.” Louise was pleased to hear that he disliked the redheaded reporter.
“We’ll fix that if she starts taking too much on herself.”
“Clara is trouble, Doc. If she spills her story to the reporter, we could be in for a bad time.”
“We’ve overcome bad times before. I trust you to keep a lid on things at the clinic, dear lady.”
Doc knew what strings to pull with Louise. A flattering phrase here and there, and the woman would die for him. He enjoyed her devotion to him and the power he had over her, which he had cultivated carefully through the years. Most of all, he enjoyed the certainty that should the axe fall, he had a place for it to land.
“And I will, Doc. You know that. But Clara worried me. She came to us twice, and we helped her out. I thought the second time would be the end of it and we’d seen the last of her.”
“We made a mistake with Clara.”
“I know that, Doc. How are we going to fix it?”
“I’ll have to think on it. As you well know, I don’t make hasty decisions.”
“I know that, Doc,” she said again. “You’re the smartest man I ever knew. I was anxious for you to get back because I knew that you’d know how to handle things.”
“We’ve been a good team, Louise. I couldn’t have done the work I have without you.”
“You look tired, Doc. You wore yourself out at that conference.”
“It was a lot of work, but made easier knowing that back here things were in capable hands. The last transfer go all right?”
“Slick as a whistle. Nothing to worry about. The papers are filled out. I’ll take them to the courthouse this morning.”
“I’ll do it. I should go over and talk to Sheriff Carroll about Hannah. She was in town a couple of times this past week. That’s far too often.”
“I’d better get back to the clinic. Let me know what you want to do about Clara. I told her that you’d be back today and I’m expecting her to come in.”
“Avoid her today. Tell her you haven’t had a chance to talk to me. Give me a chance to figure something out.”
“Maybe we should give her the money and get rid of her.”
“Never give in to a blackmailer, Louise. Once we weaken, she would be back for money on a regular basis.”
As Louise got up to leave, Doc reached out, took her hand, and brought it to his lips.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, dear girl.”
Louise’s face became warm beneath the thick layer of paint and powder. Her eyes shone with love as she looked down on the head bending over her hand. These were the tender moments she lived for. This exceptional man who held life and death in his hands needed
her
.
“Ah . . . Doc, you’d do all right. You’d do all right.” She repeated herself because of the sudden lump in her throat, and it was something safe to say.
“Get along, my capable and beautiful assistant. I’ll be over to the clinic later on this morning.” He squeezed her hand tightly, kissed it again, and let it go.
Louise left the house feeling wonderfully lightheaded, basking in the knowledge that she was important to the man she loved. They would stand together, depend on each other, and share the secret that was going to make it possible for them to be together.
No one was going to threaten him. She would see to it.
• • •
Kathleen arrived at the office half an hour before they opened for business. She told Adelaide and Paul about Krome or Webb slashing her tire while she was in the restaurant. She described the scene when Barker and Johnny confronted Krome and Webb and the sheriff’s ordering them to get out of town. She was careful to avoid speaking about Johnny and Barker Fleming’s relationship. If Johnny wanted it known that Barker was his father, it would be up to him to tell people.
“Law,” Adelaide declared. “Things are going from bad to worse in this town.”
“Something else happened when I left here last night that I thought was unusual.” Kathleen told them about finding Hannah sitting on the curb beside her car. “She was really drunk—could hardly stand. When the sheriff stopped, I thought that he was going to arrest her, but he was real gentle with her. He put her in his car and took her home.”
“There’s a story there. Hannah was a pretty girl about fifteen years ago before she started drinking. I saw her with Pete Carroll a few times. He lived with his mother and, knowing Ruby Carroll, she would never have stood still for her son’s marrying an Indian. Maybe he still remembers that young pretty girl.”
“His kindness to her raised him a few notches in my estimation.”
“Carroll isn’t so bad when you get right down to it,” Adelaide said.
“Is he married?”
“He was at one time. His wife couldn’t stand Ruby and left. I don’t know if he got a divorce or not. Ruby died a few years ago.”
Kathleen worked steadily all morning. News this week was plentiful. She wrote up the story about the rodeo and told Paul to save room on the front page for the picture of Johnny with the hope that the engraving would come in on the evening bus. When she had caught up on the news stories, she went out to pick up the ads.
“Miss Dolan,” Mrs. Wilson said, after giving Kathleen a small grocery ad, “there’s a young girl sitting back there by the stove and I don’t know what to do about her. She was in the alley this morning when I came to open the store. She had slept in that old truck bed. I let her in and gave her something to eat.”
“Is she from around here?”
“She said she came to Rawlings to find her mother.”
“Do you know her mother?”
“There’s no one that I know of named DeBerry in town, and she doesn’t know her mother’s maiden name.”
“Maybe Adelaide knows.”
“Come talk to her. She’s a pitiful little thing.”
Kathleen walked back to where the young girl sat huddled in a chair beside the stove. Her thin shoulders were hunched, her arms crossed, and her hands in the sleeves of a ragged gray jacket. She looked up at Kathleen with large, sad eyes. Dark hair and eyes, fine features, and golden skin spoke of Indian blood. She wore ankle socks and tie shoes much like those an older woman would wear.
“Hello. I work at the newspaper. Mrs. Wilson says that you came to town to find your mother.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I haven’t been here long enough to know many people, but Miss Vernon down at the office may be able to help you.”
“She would? Hope leaped in the girl’s eyes, and her hands came out of the sleeves. “I come all the way from Fort Worth to find her.”
“Oh, my. That’s a long way. Did you come in on the bus?”
“No, ma’am. I got some rides and . . . walked a lot.”
“That wouldn’t be an easy trip for anyone.”
“No, ma’am.” One of the girl’s hands fluttered to her face as if to cover her mouth. Her eyes became misty, and her lips trembled in spite of an effort to keep them firm. She looked to be about twelve years old.
“My name is Kathleen.”
“I’m Judith DeBerry. Most folks call me Judy.”
“How old are you, Judy?”
“Sixteen.”
“We can go down to the
Gazette
office and talk to Miss Vernon if you like. She’s lived in Rawlings all her life.”
The girl stood, leaned over, and picked up a canvas suitcase. She was short, thin, and reminded Kathleen of a little lost kitten. At the front counter, she stopped and thanked Mrs. Wilson for the food and for allowing her to sit by the stove.
“You’re welcome, child. I hope you find your mother.”
“Is that suitcase heavy?” Kathleen asked after they left the store and were out on the sidewalk.
“No, ma’am. It don’t have much in it.”
When they reached the office, Judy stood hesitantly beside the door while Kathleen put the ads in the ad box, then motioned for her to follow her to the back room. Paul and Adelaide were working at the proof table.
“I have two more ads to be made up, Paul. One grocery and one from the theater.”
“Hello.” Adelaide left the table when she saw the girl.
“Ma’am,” Judy murmured.
“This is Judy DeBerry, Adelaide. She’s looking for her mother, and I thought maybe you could help her.”
“I will, if I can. What’s her name?”
“I . . . don’t know. But . . . I was born here. I think. It’s what my birth certificate says.”
“Well . . .” Adelaide’s eyes turned to Kathleen. “Let’s go into the office and sit down.”
Kathleen placed Judy’s suitcase behind the ad counter, then pulled out a chair for the girl.
“Your father’s name was DeBerry?”
“Yes, but he ain’t my father.” Judy kept her eyes on her hands in her lap.
“Do you know your mother’s maiden name?”
“No, ma’am. You see, she wasn’t my mother.” When she looked up she had big quiet tears creeping down her cheeks.
“Judy, you’re going to have to explain a little more if we’re going to help you.” Kathleen exchanged a look with Adelaide and pressed a handkerchief into the girl’s hand.
“I have always known that Mama and Daddy didn’t like me very much.” Judy told her story haltingly. “I heard Mama say to Daddy that it was his fault they had me; and he said it was her fault, and she should have known what she was getting. I didn’t understand any of it, then one day Mama got mad at me and told me how they had always wanted a pretty little girl and how disappointed they were in me . . . that . . . I looked like an Indian or a . . . a . . . darky.”
Pride kept the girl’s head up. “I asked her what she meant. She said . . . that she wasn’t my mother . . . that I was . . . ugly and dark. She said for me to keep my mouth shut about what she said, or something bad would happen to me.”