Dorothy Garlock - [Route 66] (3 page)

Leona sank down on the bench beside the double doors. Calvin crawled on his belly until he was near the toe of her shoe and sighed contentedly as she moved her foot to stroke him. She fanned her face with a folded newspaper that lay on the bench and lifted the heavy, damp hair off the back of her neck.

What if Andy didn't come back?
The thought hit her like a blow in the stomach and robbed her of logical thought. Oh, Lord! What would she do? What would happen to the girls? He had always been there, steady and confident, even during the toughest times.

“Ruth Ann called me a runt!” JoBeth rushed from the back door of the garage, her fists balling the tears from her eyes.

“What's so bad about that?” Leona held out her arm, and the child nestled against her. “A runt is the smallest of a litter and often the prettiest. You should have thanked your sister for the compliment.”

“She don't like me.”

“Of course she does. You're her little sister. Now smile for me. Show me your dimples.”

“She made me be quiet so she could hear that old
Ma Perkins.
”

“Your daddy doesn't like for you girls to fight. He worked hard to get the money for the radio for you to enjoy.”

“I don't hardly ever get to turn it on.”

Leona's attention was drawn from the child to the highway. An old Model T car with belongings strapped to the top and on the back had coasted down the highway and was turning into the drive. It stopped well back from the gas pump. Inside the car were three adults and more children than she could imagine would fit.

Another dirt-poor Okie family full of hopes and dreams has pulled up roots and headed for California.

The tragic years of the Great Depression were leaving deep scars on the land and emotional wounds on the people who traveled the highway. Leona had watched the procession of refugees in single cars or caravans, carrying their furniture, kids, and modest aspirations, fleeing the choking dust storms and taking Route 66 to California.

A common saying along the highway was that you could tell a poor Okie family from others because they had only one mattress on top of the car. A family of mediocre wealth had two mattresses; and three mattresses strapped to the top of the car meant the Okies inside were rich.

A man in overalls, an old straw hat, and with a stubble of whiskers on his face got out of the Model T after it coasted to a stop. He lifted the hood. Steam rose from the radiator. With a heavy cloth wrapped around his hand, he removed the radiator cap and jumped back when boiling water spewed up. He went to the back of the car, unhooked a galvanized bucket and came toward Leona where she sat on the bench in front of the garage.

Calvin stood and growled. The hair stood up on the back of his neck. He wasn't sure if the man was friend or foe, but he wasn't taking any chances.

“Hush, Calvin. It's all right.” Leona got to her feet.

“Howdy, ma'am. Could I trouble you for a bucket of water?”

“The well is behind the house. Help yourself.”

“Thanky” He put his fingers to the brim of his hat.

“Mister,” Leona called. “Your family is welcome to get out and rest over there in the shade.” She motioned toward the campground.

“That'd be a blessin, ma'am.” His tired face relaxed into a smile. “They been in the car two days, slept there. It would help a heap if they could get out and stretch their limbs.”

“That's why we have the campground.”

“Do …ah …folks spend the night there?”

“Some do.”

“Ma'am, I'd be obliged if we could stay overnight here and rest up. If there's a charge I can't pay cash money, but I'm right handy with tools.” The man moved his hat back from his dusty, whiskered face. He looked at her with tired, bloodshot eyes.

“There's no charge. The first traveler here is welcome to stay. All we ask is that you leave the place as clean as when you found it.”

A thin smile spread his lips. “We'll be sure to do that. And I'm obliged, ma'am. The women and kids are gettin' all outta sorts from bein cooped up.”

He went back to the car and opened the door. Five children piled out. They stood grouped around him.

“The lady says we can stay the night. Go on over to the campground. Show her we 'ppreciate stayin' by behavin' yourselves. And, kids, keep well back from the road. I'll bring a bucket of well water after I take care of the radiator and move the car over.” He helped an older woman from the car, then a younger one carrying a baby.

When the group passed Leona and JoBeth, the younger woman paused. She was terribly thin and fatigue lined her face. “Thank you, ma'am.”

“You're welcome to the water-well and to the use of the privy there beside the house.”

“Thank you.” With her hand behind the head of a small girl, she urged her on toward the campground.

Leona watched them pass and, just for a moment, the worry over Andy slipped from her mind. For the past year families had streamed down what was fast becoming known as the Mother Road. Leaving their homes in the dust bowl, drought-ruined farms or jobless cities, they were all looking for a better life in California. A few had stopped on the way back from that promised land to report that the soil was so fertile a man could make a living raising vegetables on a tenacre plot.

At times Leona wished that Andy would get itchy feet, and they would leave here. But he was perfectly content right here on the highway halfway between Amarillo and Oklahoma City. He wanted roots for his girls—something he'd not had when he was a boy.

Dear, sweet Andy. Surely God wouldn't be so cruel as to let him come down with the dreaded rabies.

“Can I play with that little girl?” Five-year-old JoBeth whined and looked wistfully toward the children in the campground.

“Let's wait and see. She's helping her mama with the baby now.”

The afternoon wore on. Several cars stopped for gas. A few travelers stopped to buy tire patch, a tube, a boot for a too-thin tire or one with a hole worn through. While they were there, a couple of customers bought soda pop. One bought chewing tobacco. The driver of a truck pulled in and asked to borrow a wrench. Leona was careful to watch that he didn't drive away without returning it.

The family in the campground had put up two small tents. The children played around the tents, never venturing over toward the garage or toward the highway. The women and children had trooped to the outhouse. They were a quiet family and Leona was glad for their presence. Andy would have been visiting with them by now. He would know their names, where they were from and where they were going.

Andy genuinely liked people.

By early evening Leona's nerves were frayed to the point where she snapped at the girls. When JoBeth began to cry, Leona apologized.

“I'm sorry, honey. But please stop nagging me. I don't know when your daddy will be home. He knows that we are here waiting for him and will come back as soon as he can.”

“Will he bring us somethin?”

“He may and he may not.”

“He won't. He'll never come home.” Ruth Ann stated firmly, and JoBeth burst into tears again.

“Of course he's coming home. Why would you say such a thing, Ruth Ann?”

“'Cause he might not come.”

“He will,” JoBeth yelled. “She don't care if Daddy don't come home.”

“Of course she does. We are all worried and saying things we'll be sorry for later.”

“I won't be sorry,” Ruth Ann said defiantly.

“It's time to close the garage. I think we should make some candy tonight after supper. What do you think?”

“Can we make fudge?”

“We don't have any cocoa, honey. How about pralines? We'll use the pecans we cracked the other night.”

“Goody. I like pralines.” JoBeth grabbed Leona's hand and jumped up and down.

“You mean it?” Ruth Ann asked.

“Would I suggest something like that and not mean it?” Leona put an arm around each girl. “Pen up the chickens while I lock up the garage. It'll be dark soon. I'll milk, then after supper we'll make the best batch of pralines we've ever had.”

A small smile fluttered across Ruth Ann's face. Leona was relieved to see it. The child was serious far beyond her years and old enough to remember the sad times. Leona watched the girls scamper out of the garage and up the path to the house, before she turned to close the double doors of the garage.

She glanced down the highway as she had done a hundred times during the day in hopes of seeing Andy's Ford coupe, and there it was turning into the drive. Her heart hesitated, then settled down to a dull thud of dread when she saw that the only man in the car wore a big Stetson. He drove the car up to the doors of the garage, stopped and got out.

Calvin shot out of the garage and ran at the stranger with a vicious snarl.

“Calvin! No!”

Chapter 3

T
O LEONAS SURPRISE, THE STRANGER KNELT DOWN
and held out a hand to the dog. Calvin tilted his head; his tail made a halfhearted wave, then stilled. He seemed to be looking the man over and making a decision. Finally he went to him.

“You're a mighty fine dog. You run a good bluff. You're not as mean as you pretend.” The man scratched Calvin behind the ears before he stood.

He was … so big…and his face looked as if it would crack if he smiled.

“Where is Andy?”

“Hospital. In the city.” Yates opened the rumble seat of the car and pulled out a folded army cot.

“City? What city?”

“Oklahoma City. The skunk bit him.” He carried the cot into the garage and came back for a leather suitcase.

“Well?” Leona said impatiently.

“He'll have to have a series of shots.” The man walked away with the suitcase and a large paper sack.

“You took him all the way to the city?” Leona asked when he returned to the car.

“Yeah. St. Anthony Hospital. They'll treat him.” He took a toolbox from the car and went back into the garage. When he returned, he ignored her and took another box from the car seat.

“Stop!” Leona said sharply. “What did the doctor say? How bad is he? When will he be back?” Their eyes met and held. Color tinged her cheeks, as his gaze traveled over her face, taking in the freckles on her nose, the wisps of wavy hair that stuck to her cheeks. She stared back at him, her eyes bright with a shimmer of defiance.

“The doctor said he'd die without the shots. He won't be back for at least six weeks,” the man told her on his way back into the garage.

“Oh, Lord! I was afraid of that.” Leona followed him inside. “Why can't he come home between the shots?”

“They want to keep him there. The doc said they'd find him a room near the hospital to save him from making the long trip twice a week.”

“He'll need money.”

“He's got money.”

“From you?”

“My money's not dirty.”

“Thank you for that very important information,” she said as sarcastically as she could manage.

“You're welcome.”

She flung her hand out toward where he had stacked bundles from the car. “What's all this?”

“My stuff. I'm moving in here until Andy comes back.”

“Why?”

“Because I told him I would. Satisfied?”

“No, I'm not satisfied. How do I know Andy told you to move in?”

“You'll just have to take my word for it.”

“I don't believe you took him to Oklahoma City. This car wouldn't have made it. Andy's even afraid to take it to Elk City.”

“You're right it wouldn't have made it. I left this car in Sayre and took him to the city in my car.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I owe Andy a debt from way back.”

“I don't believe you.”

He shrugged.

“I don't even know your name.”

“Yates.”

“Yates, what?”

“Yates will do, ma'am.” His voice was low, raspy and impatient, as if it hadn't been used much.

Leona opened her mouth to ask first or last name, then changed her mind and glared at his back. He turned, saw the exasperated look she was giving him and became aware of two things. She was not a woman to be set aside and ignored, and she wasn't one of those females who would go all fluttery and swoon. Her feet were firmly planted on the ground, her back was straight, her head up. With eyes the color of sky, she looked at him as if she would like to cut out his gizzard. The thought almost made him smile.

“I'll move the car to the back. Andy said not to leave it sitting out front at night.” He got into the car, backed it up and drove around the side of the building.

Leona was so frustrated she could scream. She and the girls had a right to know who was moving in, taking over Andy's garage. And she had to know more about Andy's condition. She waited until he returned to the garage.

He came into the back door with a guitar case, placed it well out of the way and began setting up the cot. Leona waited. He ignored her. She looked at him intently, trying to guess what kind of man lay beneath the stern demeanor. His shoulders were a yard wide; his back was a broad wedge tapering to narrow hips. He was long-legged, long-armed and well-muscled. He looked capable of fighting his way out of a sack of wildcats.

The mark of a loner was on him. Was he really a good man helping a friend or was he taking advantage of an opportunity to do …what?

Leona continued to study him. He was not the most handsome man she had ever seen, but he was far from the ugliest. He had a broad forehead and wide-set eyes thickly fringed with dark lashes. His high cheekbones were well defined beneath the black stubble of beard, and his jaw reflected the determination he had already exhibited. The hair that showed beneath the dusty Stetson was black and slightly curly. Leona could hardly hold back a nervous giggle; she hoped that he was bald as an egg beneath the hat. It would serve him right for being so darn high-handed!

“Well, what have you decided?” He spoke without looking at her.

“About what?”

“About me. You've been giving me the once-over for the last five minutes.”

“Do you have eyes in the back of your head?”

“Sometimes.”

“I've decided that you're big, and that you're probably bald under that hat.”