Dorothy Garlock - [Route 66] (35 page)

“No? How about your interest in him? Hooking him would solve all your problems.”

“What problems? I'm doing just fine, thank you.”

“You're not doing fine! Virgil is still out there doing his level best to make your life miserable. The narrow-minded biddies and fanatics in town will jump on you like flies on a fresh cowpie every time they get the chance. That's why you don't go to town unless you have to. You're not fine! And that's a fact!” His voice was sharp with tension. His silvery eyes glittered angrily.

“I got along here before you came, Mr. Yates, and I'll get along after you go. The problems I have right now, I've had all my life. The only new one is
you.”

Leona took a deep breath, her pulse thudding like a tomtom in her head. She had never before seen eyes like his. There was strength and stubbornness there, just as there was in the rest of his face—in all of him for that matter. But it was mostly his eyes, silver light, clear, deep, seeming to know everything about her, that she would remember long after he was gone.

“I didn't realize that you still resented me so much,” he said at last.

“Well, I do. I resent your high-handed interference. So there!”

“You enjoyed what we did last night as much as I. You didn't think I was high-handed then.”

“Yes, I did,” she retorted stubbornly. “I may be a countrified girl from the sticks, but I'm not stupid. I know exactly what you had in mind.”

“If you're so smart, tell me.”

“I don't have time to argue with you about it now. I need to get the beans canned while Margie is here.” She tried to restore a calm facade, hating that she had risen to his baiting and afraid she was going to cry.

“You do it every time. When you get backed into a corner and don't have an answer, you take off like a cat with its tail on fire.”

“I do not!” Her features froze into a glare.

“You did last night.”

“I was ashamed that…that I had let you paw me.”

“I can guarantee you'll not be
pawed
again … by me,” he said tersely, then pulled his hat down on his forehead, spun on his heel and went back down the path to the garage.

Leona didn't know whether to cry or to scream.

By mid-morning, the back of Leona's dress was wet with sweat, and rivulets of it ran down into her eyes from her forehead. She and Margie had carried the kerosene stove to the porch where they were boiling the jars of green beans to preserve them. Yates had brought his fan from the garage to the kitchen and placed it on the table, where the breeze would blow on the girls as they were working to pack the jars.

He had not looked at or spoken to Leona during the brief time it took to set up the fan. While she worked, Leona played over in her mind the conversation they'd had after Mr. Fleming left and wished that she hadn't used the word “pawed,” but it was too late now to take it back.

The noon meal of sliced tomatoes, sandwiches made from egg salad, iced tea and canned peaches was eaten on the front porch. Leona insisted that Margie sit down with Yates and the girls while she tended to the jars in the copper boiler.

By late afternoon both women were tired, but proud of what they had accomplished. Jars of green beans were lined up on the counter ready to go to the cellar.

“Aunt Lee, Aunt Lee. The sheriff is here.” JoBeth ran into the kitchen and skidded to a stop. She never walked when she could run. Afraid that she would miss something, she scurried out, slamming the screendoor behind her after she had delivered the message.

Leona handed Margie a towel to wipe the sweat off her face, then followed her out onto the porch. JoBeth had plopped herself in the porch swing. Ruth Ann was on the other end of the porch skipping rope.

The sheriff and Ernie Harding were approaching the house. They stopped as they reached the steps. Margie drew in a strangled breath when she saw the man who had stolen from her. Sheriff McChesney tipped his hat politely.

“Howdy, ladies.” Then after both women acknowledged his greeting, he said, “Miss Kinnard, I spoke with the judge this morning and explained your situation. He said Harding was due pay for bringing you from Conway to Sayre and if he gave you the twenty-eight dollars he had in his pocket you wouldn't have a case against him.”

“I don't have a case against him?” she echoed. “He stole ninety-two dollars out of my suitcase.”

“It's your word against his. He admits to taking forty dollars.”

“Forty dollars?” she cried, cramming a fist against her mouth. “It was ninety-two dollars and he knows it.” She shot a glance at Ernie. His mouth quirked into an infuriating grin. “And …he's giving me back twenty-eight dollars. That's …that's not fair!”

“It's out of my hands, ma'am. The judge made his decision.”

“Does that dumb old judge think it cost sixty-four dollars to come from Conway to here? I could have gone to California and back a couple times on the bus for that.” She continued to glare at Ernie. He stood to the right and slightly back of the sheriff with a smirk on his face.

“It's a hard lesson learned, Miss Kinnard.” He took an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Here's your money. I'm not saying it's fair.”

She snatched it angrily from his hand. “Some of the money could be hidden on his motorcycle.”

“Yates and I went over it. There's nothing of value on the cycle. We can't even hold it. The judge told him to take it and get out of the county.”

“Thank you for getting back this much for me.” Margie went back into the house for fear she would cry, and not for the world would she do that in front of Ernie Harding.

Leona waited on the porch and watched as Yates rolled Ernie's motorcycle out of the garage and waited for him to get on it. Words were exchanged, angry words, but she was too far away to hear them. After Ernie rode away, she went back into the house.

Yates was busy in the garage and didn't come in for supper until late. A caravan of four families had stopped to camp. He sent Ruth Ann to tell Leona that he'd not be in for a while. She left his dinner on the table and went out to do the evening chores while Margie watched the girls playing in the water tank. When she returned to the house with the evening milk, she was relieved to see that Yates had eaten and gone back to the garage.

“You're mad at Yates, aren't you?” Margie asked as she and Leona sat in the tank of water.

They had waited for darkness, then before coming out, Margie had asked Yates to keep an eye out in case one of the campers wandered away from the campground. They had slipped out of the dresses they had worn all day, had sunk naked in the water and flipped the dresses onto the side of the tank.

“Why do you say that?”

“You haven't looked at him all day.”

“Yes, I have. He's so darn big, I couldn't ignore him if I wanted to.” Leona tried to keep the irritation from her voice. She had thought about it for most of the day and still hadn't been able to figure out why he had said the things he did about her flirting with Mr. Fleming.

“You didn't say anything to him.”

“I didn't have anything to say.”

“He likes you. He kissed you the other night, didn't he?”

“How did you know?”

“I guessed.” Margie giggled. “And now you told me.”

“Oh, you—”

“You don't meet his kind very often. In the cafe back home, I must have met every kind of man there is: Good family men, sorry flirty men, fat men, old, young, clean, dirty and those like Ernie who get by on other folks' sweat and tears. If Yates was interested in me, I might even give up my dream of going to Hollywood and ride off into the sunset with him.”

“Why don't you set your cap for him? He wanders all over. Maybe he'd take you to Hollywood.” Leona could have bitten her tongue.
Oh, Lord. It will be hard enough to see him leave, but with another woman it would be unbearable.

Margie laughed. “Are you kidding? He's too smitten with you to notice me.”

“You're wrong. He just wants to get a woman in his bed and I'm handy.”
And he thinks with my reputation I'd be easy.

“Don't they all?”

“Yates is a mover. He doesn't stay in one place very long. He'll move on as soon as Andy comes home. Maybe even tomorrow or the next day. He likes to be footloose and fancyfree.”

“He's going to take me to catch the bus in the morning.”

“Oh. When was that decided?”

“While he was eating his supper. I asked him to take me. I hope you don't mind.”

“Why should I mind? He's free to do what he wants. I hate to see you go. I've enjoyed your company.”

“I'll never be able to pay you for letting me stay here.”

“The work you did today was pay enough.”

“The sooner I get back to work, the sooner I'll have the money to go to California. Since I was a little girl and saw my first movie, I've wanted to be in the movies. Oh, I know I'm not pretty like Carole Lombard, or Joan Crawford, but there are roles for girls like me. Look at Zazu Pitts and Marie Dressler.”

“What makes you think you're not pretty? Heavens! I bet some of the stars aren't all that pretty. They make them up with paint and hair dye and dress them up in beautiful clothes.”

Leona didn't want to tell Margie that she'd seen only two picture shows in her life, and the only movie star she remembered in either one of them was a man named William Powell.

“Here's the soap. Are you going to wash your hair?”

“I thought I would and rinse it at the pump. I left a jar of vinegar out there.”

They finished bathing, stood in the tank and put their dresses back on. Leona helped Margie rinse her hair at the pump and when she went to the house, she knelt, bowed her head beneath the spout and rinsed the soap from her own. She was groping for the jar of vinegar water for the final rinse when she felt it taken from her hand and poured slowly over her head. She worked the water through her hair while it hung from the top of her head, then squeezed out the excess.

“Thanks, Margie.” She groped for the towel she had hung on the pump handle.

“You're welcome.”

At the sound of Yates's voice, she went still, then before she could react the towel was suddenly wrapped around her head, and a hand on her arm was helping her to her feet.

“Thanks.” She took a step away from him and turned to go into the house. His hands on the towel stopped her.

“Hold on. I'll help you dry your hair.”

“I don't need help. I've been doing it for years.”

“I want to.”

“I'll get used to having help and the next time Mr. Fleming comes by, I'll ask him to dry my hair.”

To her annoyance, he chuckled. “You're still down gravel mad, aren't you? I thought you'd be over it by now.”

“Well, I'm not. I don't take insults lightly.”

“Insults? I don't remember insulting you.”

“I doubt a jackass remembers every time he brays.”

“Are you calling me a jackass?” The laughter in his voice infuriated her.

“It fits.” She whipped the towel from her head and shook her wet hair, hoping some of it hit him in the face.

“Really, sweetheart. What did I say that was insulting?”

“Don't call me that! Don't you dare call me that!” She tried to break away from him. He put his arm around her waist and drew her back against him. “Let go of me, you …whopper-jawed polecat!”

“Not until you tell me what I said that was so insulting.”

“You said …that I was flirting with Mr. Fleming and …trying to hook him to solve my problems. There!”

“I'm sorry I said that. I haven't had a very good day thinking about it. Do you regret saying that I'd pawed you?”

“No! It was true. And I don't care what kind of day you had. Your days here are numbered anyway.”

“Will you miss me when I go?” His lips had nudged the wet hair aside and were close to her ear. His hand was moving over her rib cage, his thumb rubbing the underside of her breast. “Leona Dawson! You don't have anything on but this dress.”

“You …you—”

“Braying jackass?”

“Take your hands off me.”

“If I do, will you go put on some clothes and come back out? But not too soon, unless you want to get in the tank with me.”

“No, I will not.”

“Then I'll have to come in and get you. Do you want me to wake up the girls?”

“Yes. And I'll tell them just what a …a—”

“Jackass I am? They won't care. I'm making Ruth Ann a pair of stilts and JoBeth a doll bed. Sweetheart—” He grasped her earlobe between his teeth and worried it.

“I asked you not to call me that,” she said very calmly. “Now let me go. I need to go in and get another dry towel.”

“All right. But will you come out? We'll just talk. I won't touch you if you don't want me to,” he whispered, his lips close to her ear.

“We'll…see….” It was something she often said to the girls.

Leona hurried to the house as soon as he released her. Yates stood by the pump and watched her go.

He swore.

He didn't often second-guess himself. He did that now. Why had he teased her? His intention had been to get her alone and apologize for the things he'd said that morning. He had no intention, however, of telling her that jealousy had caused him to speak so thoughtlessly. Sometime during the day he had stopped and realized that what had raised his hackles when he saw her with Fleming was the thought of her being with another man.

Then realization had hit him with the force of a tornado. He was totally, recklessly, helplessly in love for the first time in his life. How in hell had it happened? Last night he had been sure that he only wanted to pet her a little. Enjoy a pleasant interlude. He wouldn't have allowed it to go further.

Shitfire! He had liked women before, been sexually attracted to them and left them without even remembering their names. This was so different that he was scared almost out of his wits.

The feeling he had for this auburn-haired, plucky woman was a protective kind that made him want to be with her day and night. It made him want to kill anyone who would hurt her or snub her. It must be love. It had crept up on him, had sunk deeply into his heart and mind. He wasn't at all sure that he liked having his contentment dependent on her.