S
tanding beside the grocery counter, Johnny saw Kathleen as she passed the window and again when she entered the store. He had caught a glimpse of her bright red hair earlier when he passed the shoe-repair shop and was relieved to see her there. She would not be at the Ramseys’ when he delivered the table.
Hazel had opened the door for him and watched as he set the table against the wall and lifted Kathleen’s typewriter from the floor. The room was neat as a pin; books and papers were stacked, the bed made without a single wrinkle in the cover. He was beset by a loneliness deeper than he’d ever felt before as he stood amid the little home spot she had made for herself. Embarrassed by his own feelings, he made a hasty retreat, even refusing the offer of a piece of sweet potato pie.
Later he had called Kathleen from the telephone office, where he had gone to pay for a call he had placed the week before.
Since their first meeting on the highway, he’d had plenty of time to think about her as he rounded up his horses down on Keith McCabe’s range. He had bred his mares to Keith’s stallion last April and would keep them closer to home during the winter months in case of a severe norther that could trap them for days without food. During that time he had convinced himself that any further contact with Miss Kathleen Dolan would be dangerous to his peace of mind. Therefore, the only thing to do would be to avoid her whenever possible.
Now, it appeared to be impossible. There was no escape.
He had just given a lengthy list of his needs to Mrs. Wilson when Kathleen came into the store, saw him, and smiled. He touched his fingers to his hat brim and set his dark eyes on her, letting nothing at all show beneath their impenetrable surface.
“Howdy, ma’am.”
“Hello.” Kathleen walked toward him as Mrs. Wilson moved away with his list in her hand. “Thank you for the table.”
“You’re more than welcome.”
He turned away, scooped up coffee beans, poured them into the grinder, and began to turn the large wheel. He knew that she stood there, hesitant, before she walked past him. His thoughts had scattered when she came in the door, but now they were back in his possession. He was more convinced than ever that the two of them had absolutely nothing in common.
She was refined and educated.
He had barely finished the fifth grade.
She was smart enough to write for a newspaper.
It was a chore for him to write a grocery list.
She came from respectable people.
His mother had been Mud Creek trash.
The differences between them went on and on. It was better, he thought now, to have her think that he was uninterested in her as a woman than to have her know that the man who was on the verge of falling in love with her was the bastard son of a whore and a drunken Indian. It was a fact she would find out soon enough.
Johnny was not conceited enough to think that the welcome smile she had given him when she came into the store, was for him . . . personally. It was for the help he had given her the day she arrived and for the table he had just delivered.
Mrs. Wilson returned and bagged the coffee she took from the grinder.
“Our special next week will be soda crackers. You can have them for sale price if you want.”
“I’ll take a box. I was in a hurry when I scratched off the list. I’m surprised you could read it.”
“I made out most of it. You’d better look it over in case I missed something. You’ve got quite an order.”
“I sold one of my mares and decided to lay in a stock of grub.”
“We appreciate your business, Johnny.”
He could hear the click of heels on the wooden floor and knew that Kathleen was coming back to the front of the store. He busied himself checking over the list but was terribly aware when she stopped beside him. He folded the paper and put it in his shirt pocket.
“I forgot to put cornmeal on the list, Mrs. Wilson. Give me a five-pound bag.” The grocer’s wife nodded and went down the crowded aisle of the store.
“I hear that you’ll be one of the contestants at the rodeo,” Kathleen said. “I’ll be cheering for you.”
“Thanks. I enter every year just for the hell of it.”
“Adelaide says that you usually win.”
“Only the bronc-riding.”
“You’re being modest. She says you win the calf-roping and sometimes the steer-wrestling.”
“Once in a while I get lucky.” His tone was one of disinterest.
He hadn’t looked directly at her except the one time when she first came into the store. Color tinged her face and neck as her irritation mounted.
Who the heck does he think he is? He has no right to snub me. I didn’t ask for the darn table.
“Have I stepped on your tail? Is that why you’re giving me the cold shoulder?”
His head turned quickly, and he looked down at her.
Good. I got his attention at last.
“Why do you say that?”
“I’m not so dumb that I don’t know when I’m getting the brush-off. I thought that we could be friends as long as we’re both connected to my Uncle Tom. Do you have something against being friends with a woman?”
“Of course not.” Johnny felt his face tingle with embarrassment.
“Then perhaps I have body odor or bad breath. I’ll keep my offensive body at a distance when I see you at the rodeo. Good-bye.” She walked away from him with her head held high.
“Here ya are, Johnny.” Mrs. Wilson returned with the bag of cornmeal. “Anything else?”
“I don’t think so. Tally up the bill.”
After he paid, she packed his order in boxes while he carried a five-gallon can of kerosene out to his truck.
“You should set your cap for Miss Dolan, Johnny,” Mrs. Wilson teased when he came back for the boxes. “She’s nice. Pretty, too. Every single man in town will be beating a path to her door.”
“Ah . . . no,” he stammered. “She’d not see me for dirt. I’m a poor rancher who’s head over heels in debt.”
“Who isn’t? She works hard and isn’t in the least snooty. By the way, I put a hunk of cheese in the box, our thanks for the big order.”
“I’m obliged.”
“Good luck at the rodeo, Johnny.”
“Thanks.”
• • •
When Kathleen left the store, she was angry at Johnny and angry at herself for having been glad to see him. Embarrassment mingled with her anger. She had been about to make a fool of herself and ask him if he’d like to go to Red Rock to see the Tom Dolans. She should be grateful that he made his feelings perfectly clear.
Damn him! If he thought she was chasing after him, he could just get that thought out of his block head.
But the idea that he could be thinking that cut her to the quick.
She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she almost ran into the two men coming toward her. She looked up and recognized them immediately. The two toughs who had attempted to steal her car and her money stood there brazenly grinning at her. Temper that had been simmering since Johnny’s snub, boiled up. With her hands on her hips, she stopped in front of them, barring their way.
“How come you’re not in jail?” she almost yelled.
“Well, looky here. If it ain’t that feisty redhead we helped get outta the ditch.” The one called Webb grinned inanely, showing stained, broken teeth.
“Helped, my hind leg!” The tone of Kathleen’s voice was keeping pace with her temper. “You . . . you piles of horse dung! You were hijacking my car.”
“Hijackin’ ya? Hear that, Webb? She ain’t grateful a’tall fer what we done. You’d’a thought a uppity-up like her’d have manners and give us a little somethin’ more than a jawin’ out fer all the help we done a pushin’ her car. Like a little kiss maybe.”
“Listen to me, you mangy polecats,”—Her eyes glittered with the light of battle—“I don’t know why you’re not in jail where you belong, but you can bet your filthy hide I’m going to find out.”
“Ya go on and do that, baby doll,” Webb leered at her. “Say, sugar, how ’bout goin’ honky-tonkin’ tonight? Otis and his Ring-tail Tooters is playin’ out at the Twilight Gardens. There’s a gal there what’s goin’ to show us how to do the jitterbug dance. Ya’ve seen it done, ain’t ya?”
“You’re out of your mind if you think I’d be caught dead with warthogs like you.” She wrinkled her nose in a contemptuous sneer.
“She ain’t goin’ to be friendly. It’s a pure-dee shame. Guess we better be on our way.”
“Not so fast . . . scum! Johnny Henry told the sheriff about you.”
“Yeah. Fat lot a good it done him. Now get outta the way. We ain’t got no time to stand here jawin’ with a . . . high-tone split-tail when we got things to do.” He reached out and grasped her upper arms.
Rage gave Kathleen strength to jerk her arm loose and swing her fist. The blow caught Webb on the side of his face. He let out an angry yelp and raised his hand to slap her.
“Hit me, you yellow-bellied buzzard bait, and some dark night you’ll get a belly full of lead!” she shouted as she was suddenly pushed aside. Johnny was between her and the two men.
“Touch her, and I’ll bury you.”
“She started it. She hit me.”
“You grabbed her. I saw you.”
“Yeah? Well go tell it to the sheriff. She ain’t nothin’ but a—”
“—Say it, and your nose will be smeared all over your ugly face.”
“Why aren’t they in jail?” Kathleen demanded.
“I don’t know.” Johnny glanced at her, then back, as the two men began to edge around him. “But I’ll find out. Go on, get off the street. You’ve given the folks a show. I’ll take them down to the sheriff.”
“Won’t do no good. We been there and told him how it was.”
“You can tell him again why you threatened Miss Dolan. Come on,” Johnny snarled, and prodded them ahead of him.
“She come on to us,” Webb yelled. “She wild as a harelipped mule! Redheaded wildcat is what she is.”
Kathleen watched as Johnny herded the two men off down the street. He had rescued her again. She looked around and saw that several people had stopped along the street to watch the
show.
With tears of rage and frustration in her eyes, she hurried on down the street to the
Gazette.
Thank goodness Adelaide wasn’t in the office when she reached it, and she had time to gather herself together before she had to face her.
This had not been her best day. Not by a long shot! First the randy deputy, then the ranting cobbler, and the embarrassment of being brushed off by Johnny Henry. Finally seeing the miserable jayhawkers who had tried to rob her walking the street as free as air. It was all too much. She desperately wanted to cry, but her pride forbade it.
She heard the linotype machine start up and knew that Adelaide would be coming back. She hastily put a sheet of paper in her typewriter, dug in the basket on her desk for the information about the rodeo, and began to write. She wrote three lines, Xed them out, then started again.
The fifth annual Rawlings rodeo will be held at the Tillison County fair grounds Saturday Sept. 23. Fifteen contestants have signed up to compete in nine different events.
Johnny Henry, local rancher, who took home the purse last year for “Best All-Around Cowboy” will enter seven events.
The stock for the event will come from the McCabe ranch just south of the river in Dallam County, Texas.
Again this year the local churches will be in charge of the concession stands, and a variety of food and drink will be available.
The screen door was jerked open, and a big man with a star on his chest came in. He looked around the office, then down at her.
“May I help you?”
“You can if you’re Miss Dolan, and I think you are. There’s not many women—”
“—in town with hair as red as mine.” Kathleen finished for him and got to her feet. Looking up at him made her uncomfortable. “I’ve heard it a million times. You’re the sheriff.”
“How’d ya guess?” He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his trousers and looked steadily at her.
Sheriff A. B. Carroll was a heavyset man with a big neck, broad shoulders, and short arms and legs. The hair beneath the brim of his Stetson was brown, the thick mustache on his upper lip brown sprinkled with gray. The bulge in his jaw, Kathleen suspected, was a plug of chewing tobacco. He wore his importance on his chest along with his badge. She decided then and there that she wasn’t going to like him.
“It wasn’t hard to figure it out. The star means that you’re either the sheriff or from the Star Ice Company. We got ice yesterday.”
“Smart-mouthed, just like Ell said.”
“Speaking of your deputy, are all women treated with such lecherous behavior when they go to the county sheriff’s office?”