Dorothy Garlock - [Route 66] (26 page)

“He thinks he's doin the right thin'.”

“If that's the right thin', Ma, I ain't ever goin' to church when I leave here.”

“Don't talk like that,” Hazel said sharply. “God will strike you down.”

“Eugene Johnson's pa ain't like him. He doesn't hit Eugene with a strop or make him go to bed without his supper. And they have baseball games out at their house on Sunday afternoons. Why can't Pa be like Mr. Johnson?”

“It's sinful to play games on Sunday. The Bible says to keep the Sabbath holy.”

“It also says to forgive yore enemies, Ma. Why can't Pa forgive Aunt Leona for runnin' off? Why does he hate her so much?”

Hazel looked at her son as if seeing him for the first time. Isaac had grown up. He would be leaving soon. Dear Lord, where had the time gone? It seemed only yesterday that he was a baby boy. Now, he was thinking on his own and asking questions.

At that moment one of the boys ran in to say the doctor had arrived.

The search for Ruth Ann was called off at dark. Mr. Fleming and his riders had met back at the garage and, after making plans to return in the morning, headed back to the ranch. At Barker Fleming's suggestion, Deke stayed. He tended the garage while Yates did the chores. Between the two of them they kept Leona in sight.

The family that pulled off the highway to spend the night in the campground was from Broken Bow, Oklahoma. This was the first night of their journey to California. The four children, although tired, were still excited about the trip and ran around the low-pitched tent playing tag. When Deke told the parents about Ruth Ann's being missing, the father herded his children together, and in a stern voice told them to stay close, then asked if there was anything he could do to help find the child.

“When ya leave tomorrow, keep your eyes open for a eight-year-old, blond, curly-haired little girl in a blue dress.”

“We'll sure do that, mister. We sure will. I sure do hope ya find her.”

Sheriff McChesney came by to say that if Ruth Ann hadn't come home by morning, he would notify the federal marshals.

“They've already been notified, Sheriff,” Yates said. “Barker Fleming called the Texas authorities, and I called Oklahoma City. I didn't see any reason to wait.”

The sheriff's face turned red with anger. “A runaway usually comes home within twenty-four hours.”

“This is an eight-year-old girl. Damn it, I don't understand this twenty-four-hour shit.” Yates was getting more and more agitated. “Were you waiting to give that dumb-ass deputy of yours time to pray her home or to find her and give her to that clabber-brained Virgil Dawson?”

“It's standard procedure to wait twenty-four hours whether you like it or not.”

“Well, hell. I don't like it.”

“I know you're worried, but I've got a lot more on my plate then one runaway kid.” He turned to speak to Leona, who sat on the porch steps with her head down. “The children in town are at risk from diphtheria, Miss Dawson,” he said, looking to where JoBeth was clinging to Margie's hand. “Keep the little one away from other children.”

With a blank expression on her face, Leona watched the sheriff leave. Her heart felt like a stone in her chest. She sat only until he was on the highway, then jumped up and walked quickly to the edge of the woods.

Deke was worried about Ruth Ann, but he was also worried about Leona. She hadn't eaten or sat down for more than a minute or two at a time. He watched her now prowling from the fence line to the edge of the road and back again. It would be pitch-dark in five more minutes. Would she come back then?

Yates came out of the garage, his eyes on the white blur at the edge of the woods.

“She's goin to pieces.” Deke put the lid back on the can of axle grease he'd used to grease the chains on the porch swing. “Gawd-damm-it, Yates. It tears me up to see her like this.”

“Margie is taking it hard, too. She thinks Ruth Ann ran away because of her being here.” Yates nodded toward where Margie sat with JoBeth cuddled in her lap. “She says she's leaving as soon as Ruth Ann comes back.”

“Lord, she can't no more take care of herself than JoBeth. I hate to see a nice girl like that take her suitcase and walk down the road. Some sidewinder'll pick her up and no tellin' what'll happen to her.”

“You could marry her,” Yates said, and started across the yard to the woods.

“Ain't but one woman for me, bucko,” Deke muttered to Yates's back. “I'm thinkin' ya got yore eye on her. If she takes ya, ya'd better treat her right or ya'll answer to me.”

Yates only vaguely heard Deke mumbling to himself; his eyes were on Leona. It seemed to him that she had lost ten pounds today. Already slender as a reed, she now looked as if a stiff wind could blow her over. She had not changed the house dress that swirled around her bare legs since morning. All she had done when she went to the Fleming Ranch had been to whip off her apron.

Yates knew that he had not the words that would comfort her. Angered by his inability, cuss words he hadn't used for years floated through his mind as he realized that all he could do would be to assure her that she didn't have to face this terrible situation alone.

Without saying a word, he walked up to her, took her hand and drew her into his arms. She went willingly into his embrace. Her breasts were soft against his chest, her face fit in the curve of his neck. They stood, in the growing darkness, locked together, his hand caressing her back and pressing her to him.

She moved, mumbled, put her arms around him and snuggled closer. The feeling he had for her now was tenderness, a desire to comfort her.

“Ah …honey—” Holding her firmly against him, he kissed the top of her head. “It's going to be all right. We'll get her back.”

She lay against him docile and unmoving, lifeless as a rag doll. She was no longer the hard-working, spunky, sassy Leona he'd met that first day, nor was she the one who had ripped into him over the portable oven. The woman he held against him was a mere shell of the Leona who had stood up so staunchly against the brother who had hatefully belittled her.

She mumbled again.

He grasped her shoulders and eased her away from him so he could see her face.

“I …should've seen it coming. Ruth Ann wasn't the same after Andy left.”

“You couldn't have known what was in her mind. Don't blame yourself.”

“What'll we do if we don't find her?” Her voice was a ragged whisper, so sad that it tore at his heart. Utter, complete misery was etched on her face.

“We won't think of that now. Let's think of what we'll do when she comes home. We'll take the girls to a carnival on the Fourth, and to the barnstorming show a couple weeks later. By then Andy will be coming home.”

There was a lot he liked about this woman,
he thought now as he looked down into her face. He liked the way her dark auburn hair, tangled from the wind, curled about her pale face. He liked her quick mind, the way she looked, smelled and talked. He liked her full expressive mouth, the way the corners tilted up when she smiled. He bent his head to kiss her, but straightened, not wanting to take advantage of her vulnerability.

A shaky, weakening, delicious fear that his life had changed forever spread all through him. She had been in his head day and night since the day he met her. His need for her astonished him.

The pain behind Leona's eyes caused her to close them for a long moment. Yates's face was close to hers when she opened them. He placed a gentle kiss on her trembling lips. The temptation to have someone share her troubles, no matter how fleetingly was too great. She leaned against him and felt once again his protecting arms around her. Her head pounded, her mind was awash with fear.

She was so tired.

It was dark when Doctor Langley returned to the Dawson house. From the road it appeared to be completely dark. He was glad to see the old truck with the buzz saw mounted on the back was not there. An intense dislike for Virgil Dawson had been building up inside him since he had seen the strop marks on the boy's back.

Isaac let the doctor into the house and led him through the dark rooms to the back where one kerosene lamp was burning. Mrs. Dawson sat beside her son's bed. A bowl of chipped ice was on the table beside her. She moved out of the way to make room for the doctor and watched anxiously as he examined her son.

“Is he any better?” Hazel asked fearfully after the doctor moved back from the bed and began putting his instruments back in his bag.

“I'm afraid not, Mrs. Dawson.”

“Is there a hospital or …someplace we can take him?”

“No, ma'am,” he said gently. “I gave him the antitoxin. It's all I can do. I have another call to make, then I'll come back and sit with you.” He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as he passed her. “I won't be gone long.”

Isaac went to the door with the doctor. “Is Paul goin to die?”

“Yes, son. I'm afraid he is. He would have had a chance if I could have vaccinated him in time.”

“It wasn't Ma's fault. Pa wouldn't call you. Ma had five dollars to pay—” Isaac choked back a sob.

“I understand. You've got to keep a stiff upper lip so that you can help your mother. Are the younger boys in bed?”

“Yes, sir. I bedded them down in Pa's bed. I've been feelin' their head to see if they were hot.”

The doctor nodded his approval. “Is your electricity not working?”

“Pa turned it off out on the pole. But we've got lots of lamps. I'll light them.”

“Do that. Take another one in to your mother, leave one in the kitchen and one in the front room. I'll be back in about an hour.”

Isaac stood for a minute after the doctor left. He was ashamed of the tears that filled his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. It had been pounded into him from an early age that it was shameful for boys to cry. But Paul, his little brother who liked to draw and loved going to school, was going to die. He'd never again swing on the sack down by the creek or climb his favorite tree or play with the slingshot Joseph had made for him.

Pa had whipped Paul for thumbing his nose at Maudie. She'd tattled to her mother, and old Sister Blanchard had come storming to Pa Sunday morning. Paul didn't even know what it meant to put his thumb to his nose and wave his fingers—nor did Isaac for that matter. He guessed that it meant something nasty.

In his heart eleven-year-old Isaac vowed his pa would never whip him or the younger boys with the strop again. He didn't know what he would do to prevent it, but he'd do something.

Oh, he wished that Joe and Pete were here, they would know what to do.

“Ma.” Isaac stood in the doorway. “The doc told me to light more lamps. I'd turn the electric on at the pole if I knew how.”

“Don't mess with the electric on the pole,” Hazel said with a catch in her voice. “Ya could electrocute yoreself.”

“I'll have to go to the shed and get more kerosene.”

“Then go. Take the lantern from the back porch.”

Isaac gathered the lamps he would fill and placed them on the kitchen table, then lit the lantern and went out to the shed. Several pieces of cut wood were piled against the door. He set the lantern down and tossed them aside. Then he pulled open the door and picked up the lantern.

What he saw in the shed was so shocking that he jumped back and slammed into a spade leaning against the wall. It toppled to the floor with a loud bang. A girl in a blue dress lay on an old quilt. A rag was tied around her mouth. Her dress and stockings were dirty. Long, blond curls were tangled with twigs. Her eyes, squinted against the sudden light, were filled with tears.

Isaac stared, blinked, then stared again. “What…are you doin in here?”

Being unable to speak because of the rag in her mouth, she shook her head.

“Are you …are you Andy Connors's girl?”

The girl bobbed her head.

“Godalmighty! He took you from …Aunt Leona. He said he would. Is your sister here?”

Ruth Ann shook her head.

“Stay here. I've got to go tell Ma. Don't be scared,” he said when he saw the panic in her eyes. “I'll leave the lantern.”

Noises of protest came from the girl's throat when he left her, but he went out and closed the door, placing a stick against it to keep the light from the lantern from shining out. He raced to the house.

“Ma! Ma!” He skidded to a stop at the bedroom door. “There's a little girl… in the shed.” His voice broke. “She's …she's one of Andy Connors's girls.”

“What in the world—a little girl?” Hazel leaped to her feet. “One of Andy's?”

“She's got a rag in her mouth and she's tied up.”

“Lord, help us! He took Andy's girl,” Hazel said as if she couldn't believe it. “It's all he's talked about since Andy went to the hospital.”

“She cryin and scared, Ma. Can I bring her in the house?”

“No,” Hazel said quickly. “She can't come in here. The doctor said no one was to come in. You've got to get her out of there before your pa comes back.”

“I can't just put her out. She's just a little girl and she's scared.”

“Then take her home. Do you know the way?”

“I know the way, but what if we meet Pa?”

“Go through the woods and stay off the streets. Go now. Your pa'll be ravin' mad when he comes home and finds her gone, but he won't come in the house; and if the doctor asks, I'll let on that you've gone to bed. Bring me the kerosene so I can fill the lamps.”

“All right, Ma. Let me put my shoes on.”

Back in the shed, Isaac knelt down and pulled the rag from Ruth Ann's mouth and untied her hands and feet.

“We got to hurry before my pa comes back. Can you stand up?”

“I want… to go …home.” Sobs clogged the child's throat.

“Stop bawling. I'll take ya home, but first I got to make it look like ya busted out of here.”

With his heavy boot Isaac kicked against a loose board time and again. It finally broke. He continued to kick until he made a hole large enough for the small girl to crawl through. Then, he took her hand and pulled her through the door, closed it and piled the stove-wood against it.

“I'm scared.” Ruth Ann continued to cry.

“Hush yore bawlin'! Pa'll hang me to a tree and strip the hide off my back if he finds out I let ya out. How long have ya been in there?”