Dorothy Garlock - [Route 66] (30 page)

“I'm glad you're here, Deke. I need to go to town and didn't want to leave the women here alone in case Virgil or that clabber-headed deputy took a notion to come out here.”

“Has Ruth Ann said anythin' 'bout where she's been?” Deke removed the handkerchief from around his neck and wiped his face, then ran forked fingers through his thick corn-colored hair.

“We think she was at Virgil's although she didn't come right out and say so.”

“One of Virgil's boys brought her home,” Leona added. “She promised him she wouldn't tell, so don't let this go any farther. Please, Deke.”

“That dirty low-down, rotten bastard! I should of blowed a hole through him a long time ago.”

“Ah …Deke. If you had, you'd be in jail getting ready to sit in the electric chair. He isn't worth it.”

“Come show me the kind of jar lids you need, honey.” Yates urged her toward the door with his hand in the small of her back.

Leona glanced quickly at Deke. He was still wiping his face and looking off toward the highway.

Well, she thought, Yates was entitled to call her
honey.
Hadn't Deke been calling her
darlin'
for years?

Chapter 24

H
AZEL AND THE THREE BOYS WALKED THE MILE
from their home to the cemetery. Virgil and Pastor Muse were waiting beside the open grave when they reached it

The small group stood apart from Virgil during the service. Hazel's eyes glowed with hostility, her lips tight; she stood rigid beside Isaac and the two younger boys while the grave of her son was being filled with red Oklahoma dirt by two members of the church.

When it was over, Hazel, her black hat sitting squarely on her stiffly held head, and in a black dress much too large for her gaunt frame, stooped and placed a bouquet of iris and yellow daisies on the mound of dirt. She stood for a moment with her head bowed, then turned to Virgil.

“Give me the five dollars Joseph gave me,” she demanded.

Virgil glanced quickly at the preacher, then turned sideways and spoke out of the side of his mouth.

“Don't bring shame down on me. I'm warnin ya.”

“I want the five dollars,” Hazel said loudly. “I owe it to the doctor.”

“Yo're grievin now, Hazel,” Virgil said in a placating tone, loud enough for the preacher to hear. “I'll pay the doctor.”

“Give me the five dollars, or I'll start screechin' so loud they'll hear me in town.”

Virgil was barely able to control the hand that itched to slap her as he dug into his pocket and produced the bill. After she snatched it from his hand, he turned to the preacher with a mournfully sad expression on his face.

“Poor woman's gone plumb outta her head.”

“I ain't gone out of my head, Virgil Dawson. I've just come to my senses. Come on, boys.”

“The boys can ride in the back of the truck.”

“No. We walked out here. We'll walk back.”

“Carl don't have shoes. The sand will be too hot on his bare feet.”

Hazel looked her husband in the eye. “Yo're not worried one stinkin' bit 'bout Carl's feet. Yo're worried how it looks to the preacher.” She took the hands of the two small boys and started off down the road. Isaac followed closely behind.

With drooping shoulders and a downcast look on his face, Virgil watched his wife and boys walk away. Burning in the back of his mind was the thought that when he got his hands on her, he'd teach her who was head of this family. But when he spoke to the preacher, it was in a gentle tone.

“Hazel ain't herself, Brother Muse. She's acting plumb dozy. She's been like this since Paul took sick.”

The preacher avoided Virgil's eyes. “It sets hard with a woman to lose her child, even knowing that he's going to a better place.”

“I don't want ya to think hard of her 'cause of how she's actin.”

“Don't worry about that. I understand Sister Dawson's feelings.” Pastor Muse turned his back and spoke to the two men with the shovels. “I'll take you back to town.”

Yates parked his car in front of the bank and went up the iron steps to the doctor's office. The nurse, whom Yates had learned was the doctor's wife, was on the telephone and smiled a greeting. When she finished her conversation, she said, “Morning.”

Yates nodded, his hat in his hand. “Is the doctor in?”

“He's washing up. He was out most of the night.”

“I heard that the little Dawson boy died.”

“Yes. Doctor takes it hard when he loses a child. He's been down with the undertaker. The little boy is being buried this morning.”

“I'm sure precautions have to be taken when someone dies of an infectious disease.”

“That's true. We were relieved to hear that the little girl you were looking for came home. Sheriff McChesney came by this morning and told us.”

“We were mighty glad to see her. Her aunt was frightened almost out of her wits.”

The nurse went into the other room and came back with Doctor Langley After a greeting, Yates plunged right in.

“I'll make this as brief as I can, Doctor. I know you're busy.”

Fifteen minutes later, Yates walked down the steps with the doctor, who appeared to be bone-tired.

“I'll be out about noon to swab the girls' throats. If Mr. Fleming is going to the city in the morning, I'll ask him to drop the swabs by the clinic.”

“The boy, Isaac, deserves the reward I offered. He risked a lot to bring Ruth Ann home.”

“You'll have to figure a way to give it to him without his pa knowing.”

“I take it you've got somewhat the same opinion of Virgil Dawson that I have.”

“I fully intend to pursue the matter of a sick child being brutally whipped.”

“Virgil is a religious fanatic. He does what he does in the name of God.”

“I know Pastor Muse, and I can't believe that he would approve of such punishment. Nor would he hesitate calling in a doctor for a sick child. I'd not have known about the Dawson boy if he hadn't come for me, and a dozen or more children could have been infected.”

“Virgil Dawson may be demented. Taking and keeping Ruth Ann proves that he's gone beyond being fanatical.”

“It should be reported to Sheriff McChesney that the girl was held against her will.”

“I'm asking you to keep that part of it confidential. Ruth Ann promised that she wouldn't tell who brought her home. She fears that Isaac would be severely punished.”

“No doubt he would be.” The doctor opened the door of his car and set his bag on the seat. “Tell Mr. Fleming that I'll need written instructions from Dr. Harris about giving Andy the rest of the serum.”

“I'll do that and thanks.”

“I have two calls to make. I should be out at Andy's about noon.”

Yates walked down the street to the grocery store, went inside and tossed the jar lid Leona had given to him on the counter.

“Two dozen of these jar lids.”

“Mr. Yates! I was relieved to hear Andy's little girl came home.”

“Really?” Yates looked at him, making no pretense to be civil. “I'll take a couple pounds of cheese, box of crackers, two cans of salmon and a couple dozen lemons.” Yates flipped open the slanting lid on a jar and brought out a handful of stick candy. He placed it on the counter.

“The lemons came in just this morning.” Mr. White, wanting the business, yet resenting the arrogance of Andy's
cousin,
silently began to gather the order, item by item.

“Add a bottle of vanilla flavoring and a can of baking powder.” He remembered JoBeth saying her aunt had put the can of baking powder back on the counter before they walked out.

“Have you heard when Andy is coming home?” Mr. White said in an attempt to start a conversation.

“No.”

“It must be hard for Andy to be away from his …girls.”

Yates noticed the slight hesitation and chose to ignore it. “Put all of this on the tab,” he said when the last item was placed on the counter. “And give me an account of the credit we have.”

Five minutes later, Yates was in his car on his way back to the garage, and Mr. White was kicking himself for his remark about…the girls.

“That should get ya by for a while.” Deke detached the hand pump from the front tire of an old Model T Ford coupe.

“I'm much obliged, mister. But if ya had just give me a loan of the pump, I'd a done the work.”

“Ya got a leak there that's only goin' to get worse. Why don't I take that tire off and put a patch on the tube?”

“I ain't got a dime to my name, mister, and that's the God's truth. Got enough gas, I think, to get us to Erick— that's where our folks live.”

“Ya didn't hear me askin' for pay, did ya? Ya'll get a mile and that tire'll be flat as a pancake.”

“Is there somethin' I can do for pay? Me and Miz Hayes ain't got but the clothes on our backs.”

“How are ya at sharpenin' tools? We got a whetstone and plenty a dull tools.”

“Mister, I'll sharpen ever' damn tool ya got if ya fix that tire so I can get my wife on down the road to my brother's place.”

“Then pull the car over here in the shade. No need to bake our brains in this hot sun. Tell your woman to walk around to the well if she wants a good drink of water.”

After the car was moved into the shade of the big oak tree between the garage and the campground, Hayes got out and opened the door to speak to his wife.

“Get out, honey, stretch and walk for a while.”

The woman he carefully helped out of the car was very pregnant. She stood for a minute holding on to him while her legs stiffened. When she turned Deke could see that her dress was stuck to her back with sweat.

“There's a tin cup hangin' on the pump, ma'am.”

“Will ya be all right? Ya want me to go with ya?” Hayes was reluctant to allow the thin woman with the huge bulge in front to walk back to the pump on her own.

“I'm fine. Go on and help the man. I'll stand here by the car for a few minutes.”

Deke had the car jacked up and was removing the wheel before she ventured toward the pump, her hands holding the small of her back. Hayes sat on the seat and worked the pedals that turned the wheel of the grindstone. Sparks flew from the ax head he was sharpening.

When the woman returned, she was carrying a cup of water for her husband.

The leak in the tube was discovered at once. After it was covered with a patch, tested in the tub of water kept in the garage for that purpose, and the tube stuffed back into the tire, Deke pumped air in the tube. Then he rolled the tire to the car, still resting on the jack, lifted it to the axle, replaced the lugs and tightened them.

He was lowering the car when a motorcycle with a sidecar turned off the highway and slid to a stop in front of the garage doors, stirring up a small cloud of dust. Deke's temper rose when he saw the rider who sat on the seat with booted feet on the ground. Leaving the motor still running, the rider waited for Deke to acknowledge him.

Deke removed the jack from beneath the car, but kept the tire iron he had used as a jack handle in his hand. He hoped the rotten polecat would give him an excuse to hit him.

“Turn off the damn motor on that thing or I'll whack the headlight out with this iron.”

The man turned off the motor, flipped down the kickstand and got off the cycle. He was big, bigger than Deke's five feet and one inch, one hundred and ten pounds. Deke had never backed down from size before and wouldn't now.

“Best be careful, little punk, or you'll get stomped into the ground.”

“If you think to do it, big man, come on.”

“What the hell's the matter with you? I'm not here to pick a fight with a little squirt, I'm looking for my wife. I left her here a few days ago to go into town and got held up.”

“I know who ya are. Yore name's Ernie. Ya left her all right. Ya run off with her money, ya low-down, thieving sonof-a-bitch.”

“Watch your mouth, you little pissant. All I want to hear from you is—where she went.”

“Ya took near a hundred dollars from her. Give it back or ya'll not leave here all in one piece.” Deke took off his hat and sailed it out of the way. He stood hunched over, his hair standing up like a straw haystack, the tire iron in his hand.

“Give it back? Ha!” Ernie laughed. “So she's here. The stupid little bitch suckered you in. I'm not surprised. Somethin' like you is all she could get. Where is she? In the house?”

“Stay away from her,” Deke shouted.

Ernie ignored him and had taken two steps toward the house when the tire iron hit him on the backs of his knees bringing him to the ground. Roaring with rage, he leaped to his feet and reached for Deke.

“Here now! Here now!” Hayes came from the garage as Deke danced out of Ernie's reach. The motorcyclist was head and shoulders taller and at least fifty pounds heavier. The game little man was using the tire iron as an equalizer. Hayes didn't know what the fuss was about, but he didn't like the odds.

“Come on, ya pile of horseshit,” Deke taunted. “I been wantin to whip hell out of somebody for the past few days. I never thought I'd be lucky enough to run into you again.” Then to Mr. Hayes: “Stay out of the way.”

“You think you can fight me, you ugly little wart? I'll whip your ass even if you do have a tire iron.”

“Then come on and try it.”

Ernie charged. A blow from the tire iron landed on his thigh, bringing him down. He yelled. His long arms brought Deke down with him. He endured the blows on his back from the iron until he was able to grab Deke's wrist and wrench the iron from his grasp. He was pounding Deke's face with his fists when Hayes landed on his back.

“Stop that! Get off him!”

“Eldon!” Mrs. Hayes ran toward her husband.

Unhinged by his anger and the pain from being struck by the tire iron, Ernie bucked to throw the weight off his back. He reached behind him with a ham-like fist, and fastened his fingers in the bodice of Mrs. Hayes's dress, pulled her down and then shoved.

Her scream as she hit the ground was followed closely by the loud boom of a gun.

“Oh, my God! If you've hurt her, I'll kill you!” Hayes released Ernie to go to his wife. The distraught woman broke into a storm of weeping.

“Get off him!” Leona yelled and fired in the air again. “Get off or I'll shoot your damned head off.”