Within an hour she had answered a dozen questions from curious townspeople about why the nurse had been there, taken a classified ad and several items for Adelaide’s “Back Fence” column.
“Miss Jeraldine Smothers of Randlett spent Sunday afternoon with her aunt, Miss Earlene Smothers. They attended church and had dinner at the home of Miss Earlene Smothers’s sister-in-law, Mrs. Willard F. Smothers.” Kathleen read aloud the item she had written, based on the information given to her by the woman who had come panting into the office.
“Be sure you spell Jeraldine with a
J
. Jeraldine hates it when her name is spelled with a
G.
Oh, my!” She fanned herself with her handkerchief. “I had to hurry. I was afraid the office would be closed.”
“I’ll be sure to spell Jeraldine with a
J.
”
“You’re new here. Where is Adelaide?”
“She’s upstairs resting.”
“I heard that Louise Munday was here this afternoon.”
“The nurse? She didn’t mention her name.”
“Why should she? Everyone knows Louise. Anything serious?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’ll give the item to Adelaide for her column.”
“Did she hurt herself?”
“She got a little bump on the head.”
“Bullfoot. Must have been more than a little
bump
if Louise was needed.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“You sure do have red hair.”
“I can’t argue with you about that.”
“Well—” The woman waited for Kathleen to say more. When she didn’t, she said, “That boy better bring my paper before four-thirty. If not, he’ll hear from me. I pay extra for delivery, you know.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Last week it was almost five o’clock.”
“The sign on the window says that the papers are available at four on Wednesdays. That doesn’t give him much time.”
“P’shaw! That boy dawdles around and don’t pay attention to what he’s hired to do. He’s lucky he’s got a job when men are walking the streets every day, looking for work.”
“I’ll ask him to get it to you as soon as he can.”
When the woman left, Kathleen pressed her fingertips to her temples. A few more like that one and she would have a splitting headache.
The next person to come into the office was the owner of the men’s store. He was quite proper and introduced himself as Leroy Grandon, president of the Chamber of Commerce. He was aware that she was Adelaide’s partner and invited her to a Chamber meeting. Kathleen sold him a two-column-by-three-inch display ad. She quickly sketched the ad for his shoe sale. At the top she printed,
WALK IN MY SHOES
. He was pleased and decided to run it in the next two editions. He lingered in the office until a woman came in with another item for the “Back Fence” column.
By six o’clock Kathleen was tired and hungry. She still had to find a place to spend the night. In her correspondence, Miss Vernon had said that there were several good boardinghouses in town. Paul was still at the linotype machine. If she could get him to turn it off, she’d ask him to direct her to one.
The screen door opened as she was on her way to lock up the office for the day. A tall, lanky man came in.
The cowboy.
He lifted a hand and pushed his hat back off his forehead.
“I was just about to close,” Kathleen said.
“Adelaide didn’t waste time putting you to work. I came by to see if you’d made it here all right.”
“I made it. Did you tell the sheriff about the two crooks who tried to steal my car?”
“Yup. He knows about ’em.”
“How did you know that I was coming here?”
“You might say that a tumbleweed told me.”
“I might, but I won’t.”
“I saw your car out front. You’ve not unpacked it.”
“I haven’t had time. Miss Vernon had an accident—fainted, I guess. Anyway she got a bump on the head that knocked her out.”
“Is she all right?”
“I think so. Paul took her upstairs to rest.”
Johnny’s eyes roamed Kathleen’s face. He liked the way she looked and talked. She was a woman, yet she was a girl, too.
“Where are you staying? Can I give you a hand unpacking your car?”
“Thank you, no. I’m not sure where I’ll be staying. I need to talk to Paul, or Miss Vernon if she’s able.” She looked at him with wide, clear eyes—waiting for him to leave so that she could lock the door.
“I should have introduced myself. My brother-in-law, Tom Dolan, would skin me alive if I didn’t help his niece settle in. I’m Johnny Henry.” He held out his hand, and she put hers into it.
“Glad to meet you. I’m Kathleen Dolan, but I guess you know that.”
So this is the Johnny Molly told me about.
“Yes. I also know your Uncle Hod and Aunt Molly. I was just at the post office and picked up a letter from Hod. He said that you were on your way and for me to look out for you. ’Course, I’d already had instruction from Tom.”
“It was good of them to be concerned for me. You more than did your duty today by helping me with the hijackers.” Kathleen pulled her hand from his.
“It wasn’t a duty, it was a pleasure. The sheriff may ask you to sign a complaint.”
“I’ll do that gladly. Now if you’ll excuse me. Paul has turned off the linotype, and I’ve got to talk to him.”
“Hi, Johnny.” Paul came out of the back room and placed a sheet of newsprint on the counter. “Adelaide proofs this before I lock the type into the frame.”
Kathleen glanced at the headline: Lead stories were,
BRITAIN IS PLEDGED TO FIGHT
and
AMERICANS TOLD TO RETURN HOME
.
Despite her being so tired, Kathleen’s interest was piqued. This was heavy stuff for a small-town paper out here on the edge of nowhere.
“Does it have to be done tonight?”
“In the morning. The press starts rolling at noon.”
“Is Adelaide all right?”
“Seems to be.” He said it in a way to cut off any other inquiry.
“I was going to ask her to recommend a place to stay. I’ll stay at the hotel tonight and talk to her tomorrow.”
“Mrs. Ramsey has a room for you. Adelaide spoke to her this morning.” The big man’s amber eyes went from Kathleen to Johnny.
“I’ll take her there, Paul.”
“I’d be obliged, Johnny. Adelaide’s worried about her—”
“There’s no need for her to worry. Tell her I’ll be here in the morning.”
Kathleen glanced at Johnny. When she had time she would try to remember everything Hod and Molly had said about him. For now she welcomed his help.
Paul pulled the shade and closed the door behind them. Out on the sidewalk, Johnny’s hand gripped her elbow.
“Have you eaten?”
“Did you hear my stomach growling?”
“Is that what I heard? I thought it was thunder.” He smiled down at her, and both of them were suddenly embarrassed. His hand dropped from her arm and he stepped back. “How about one of Claude’s hamburgers?”
“Sounds heavenly.”
They walked the block to the well-lighted diner that had been converted from an old streetcar. Kathleen was thankful for the tall, broad-shouldered presence beside her in this unfamiliar town. She cast a glance up at him; and into her fertile mind sprang the image of a perfect male hero from one of her stories: strong, handsome, a champion of the underdog, yet gentle with his woman.
Music from the jukebox blared through the open windows of Claude’s diner. Kathleen recognized the familiar voice of Gene Autry, the Oklahoma cowboy, singing a song he had made popular.
“In a vine-covered shack in the mountains, bravely fighting the battle of time, is a dear one who’s weathered life’s sorrows, that silver-haired daddy of mine.”
Several people sat on the stools at the counter that ran the length of the eatery. Behind the counter was the grill, a stove, shelves of dishes and tin Coca-Cola and Red Man chewing tobacco posters. A man in a white apron, a striped shirt, and a black bow tie yelled out as they entered.
“Hi, Johnny. Come right on in and set yourself down.” The man’s voice reached them over the sound of Autry’s singing.
“Hi, Claude.” Johnny placed his hat on a shelf above the row of windows, ran his fingers through his hair to smooth it, and ushered Kathleen to one end of the counter. He waited until she was seated on a stool beneath the overhead fan before straddling a stool beside her.
Claude, wiping his hands on his apron, came down the counter. His round face was flushed and his bright blue eyes twinkled. Long strands of dark hair were combed over the near-bald spot on his head.
“Howdy, ma’am.”
“Hello.”
“This is Miss Dolan, Claude. She’ll be working with Adelaide over at the
Gazette.
Claude White, the chief cook and bottle washer at this greasy spoon.”
“Glad to meet ya, miss. Adelaide’s been needin’ somebody to give her a hand over there. Paul’s good at printin’, but ain’t never heard that he was worth a tinker’s dam at writin’ up a story. Well, now, that’s said, what’ll ya have?”
Kathleen looked at the menu board above a shelf of crockery, then at Claude, and smiled.
“I’m hungry enough to eat everything up there, but I’ll have a hamburger and a piece of raisin pie.”
“What will you have on your hamburger?”
“Everything but onions.”
“I’ll have two hamburgers and a bowl of chili,” Johnny said.
“Onions, Johnny?” Claude lifted his bushy brows.
“No.”
“You usually have extra onions. Guess that tells me what I wanted to know.” Claude winked at Kathleen and turned back to his grill.
Kathleen glanced at Johnny and saw his eyes narrow, his lips press into a firm line, and knew that had the deep suntan not bronzed his face, it would be flushed with embarrassment. A muscle jumped in his clenched jaw. He looked even younger without his hat. Hair as black as midnight sprang back from his forehead and hung almost to the collar of his shirt.
“Claude’s quite a joker,” Johnny murmured.
“Does he always wear a bow tie when he cooks?”
“Always. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him without it.”
Claude brought a bowl of thick, fragrant chili and placed it in front of Johnny.
“Sure you don’t want one, miss?”
“It smells good, but I’ll wait for my hamburger and pie.”
Claude dashed back to the grill, flipped over meat patties with a long-handled spatula, while placing open buns on the grill with the other hand. No wasted motion there. He kept his eye on the door and greeted each customer who came in by name.
“Hi ya, Allen. You’re late tonight. How ya doin’, Herb? Take a seat. Be with ya in two shakes. You want anythin’ else, Jake?” Claude rolled a nickel down the counter. “Put this in the jukebox, Allen. Play ‘Frankie and Johnny’ for my friend Johnny who has brought me a new customer to brighten up the place. Once she’s eaten a Claude hamburger, she’ll be back.”
“He’d make a good politician,” Kathleen murmured.
“That’s what I’ve been tellin’ him,” Johnny grinned at her. “He takes a backseat to no one once his mouth gets goin’. He’s got his fingers in most every pie in town.” Johnny said the last loud enough for Claude to hear as he put the hamburgers on the counter in front of them.
“Here ya are, miss.” Claude winked at her again. “Don’t pay no mind to what this long drink of water tells you. He only comes to town when he gets tired a talkin’ to hisself.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have brought her here. After hearing you spout off she’ll probably head right back to Kansas.”
“Not on your life.” Kathleen chewed and swallowed her first bite of her hamburger. “I’ll hang around just for this.”
“Smart lady you got here, buster—”
“Hey, Claude. Stop flirting with the pretty redhead and get me some catsup.”
“Hold your horses, Jake. I’m making sure she knows that this kid ain’t the only single man ’round these parts.”
By the time Kathleen finished her meal, Johnny was done with his. When she reached into her purse to pay, he put his hand on her arm to stop her. Not wanting to embarrass him, she waited until they were back out on the walk in front of the diner before she spoke.
“I never intended for you to pay for my supper. Please—” She opened her purse.
“No,” he said, his tone so firm that it stopped her protest.
“Well . . . thank you.”
“My truck is across the street from your car. I’ll lead you to Mrs. Ramsey’s. It’s only a few blocks.”
“Thank goodness for that. I’m about out of gas. I got so excited coming into town that I forgot to stop and get some.”