Dorothy Garlock - [Route 66] (4 page)

“I can't deny the first, but I can give lie to the second.” He snatched the hat off his head and flung it down on the cot. Atop his head was a mop of thick, black-as-midnight curls. “Disappointed?”

Light gray eyes squinted at her. Not even a hint of a smile or the suggestion of softness broke the blunt, hard, craggy lines of his face with its strong nose and jutting chin. It was a take-me-or-leave-me kind of face. Something that may have been amusement flickered in his eyes.

“Why should I care if you're bald or not? I'm just surprised that someone hasn't snatched every hair out of your head—you're so rude!” With that Leona flung her chin up, left the garage and walked up the path to the house.

With his head down, Yates glanced at her slim legs as she passed him. She was pretty and spunky. Obviously she cared about Andy, who hadn't said much about her on the trip to the city, only that she was capable, knew the prices of the items he sold and would be a help at the gas pump. Yates had not had a relationship with a woman that lasted over a week or two, and figured he didn't know much about them, but he knew this much: Mrs. Connors was a woman who had taken a few hard knocks and knew how to stand up to them.

Andy had been worried about leaving her and the girls alone out on the highway. Yates explained to him who he was and why he felt he owed him. A surprised Andy sputtered, shook his head and in the end had welcomed his help.

Yates arranged all of his belongings along the back wall of the garage. He didn't own anything that didn't fit easily in his car or that could not be disposed of when he took to the road again. He reasoned that if he owned things, they would eventually own him. Sooner or later he might accumulate so much that the weight of it all would hold him in one spot.

The previous owner of the horse and saddle had agreed to take them back when Yates was ready to leave. Wherever he stopped for a while he had usually been able to make such a deal. Nothing relaxed him or gave him more pleasure than to mount a good horse and ride out onto the prairie where he could look in any direction and not see another living soul or the evidence that one had been there.

The day after he bought the horse, he had ridden across country to the place where he had met Andy for the first time. Yates considered that meeting the beginning of his adult life. Now, he looked out the garage doors to the highway and dragged his thoughts back to the reason he was here. He had come to pay a debt, a long overdue debt. As soon as Andy Connors returned and was on his feet, he'd hit the road and consider his debt paid.

“Daddy's home!” JoBeth jumped off the porch step.

“No, honey!” Leona caught the child before she could dash down the path to the garage.

“His car's here.”

“The man who took him to the doctor brought it back. Daddy didn't come home. He's staying with the doctor for a while.”

“I told you he wasn't comin' back,” Ruth Ann announced from the doorway.

JoBeth burst into tears.

“We'll go in and talk about it.” Holding the little girl firmly by the hand, Leona urged her toward the door. In the kitchen she sat down in a chair and pulled JoBeth to her.

Ruth Ann stood ramrod straight with her back turned.

“I'll tell you just what the man told me. The sick skunk bit your daddy on the leg. The doctor will have to give him shots for about six weeks, so that he won't get the sickness from the skunk. They want him to stay in the hospital where they can watch him and be sure that he will be all right.” Leona paused, then added, “That's all I know.”

“He'll die,” Ruth Ann said bitterly.

“He'll not die,” Leona replied forcefully. “They have inoculations for that sickness. Remember when you had the vaccination for smallpox? Your arm was sore and it made you sick for a while. The shots might make your daddy sick. Maybe sicker than the smallpox vaccination. That's why they want him to stay in the hospital.”

“So they can make him better?” JoBeth asked.

“So they can make him feel better. The only thing we can do for him now is take care of things here at home so that everything will be the same when he comes back.”

“Can we go see him?” JoBeth asked.

“I don't know, honey. He's in Oklahoma City. That's a long way from here.” Leona went to where Ruth Ann stood, gripped her shoulders and pulled the child back against her. “He'll be all right. You must believe that and not think the worst.”

“He'll die. I know he will.” Sobs broke loose. She turned and buried her face against Leona.

“No. Don't think that.” Leona hugged the child to her and smoothed back her hair. “He'll come back and tell us all about it—about the big hospital and about being in the city. Maybe he'll even ride a streetcar.”

“I'm scared he won't come back.”

“He'll come back, honey. We'll write to him so he won't be lonesome up there in the city. You can draw a picture for him. He is so proud of the way you draw. JoBeth can make the ABC's and show him how she is learning to write her name. He'll write back and put lots of X's on the bottom of the page.”

“What's X's?” JoBeth asked.

“Kisses. Here's one for each of you. MaryLou is out there waiting for me. I've got to go milk her. Did you gather eggs, Ruth Ann?”

“Not yet.”

“Gracious me. We'd better get our chores done if we're going to make candy tonight.”

Leona washed her hands in the basin in the dry sink, wet a clean cloth to wash the cow's teats, then picked up the milk bucket and headed for the barn.

While she milked, she leaned her head against the side of the patient cow and thought how fortunate they were that MaryLou produced good rich milk. They had all the milk and butter they could use, a good garden spot close to the well so that she could water the plants if necessary, and a dozen good laying hens. They had a sound, dry storm cellar and almost fifty jars of canned food.

Andy had been looking to buy a couple of runt pigs to fatten on the extra milk. Even without money coming in from the garage, they would be all right for a while.

“Ma'am.” The deep masculine voice behind Leona startled her so much that she almost overturned the milk bucket when she whirled around. “Is there a spot in here where I can store a few bales of hay for my horse?”

“You scared the fool out of me.” Leona spoke more harshly than she intended.

“Sorry,” he muttered with his back to her.

She had not yet admitted to herself that she was a little afraid of Yates and what his unexpected intrusion in their lives could mean. He was so quiet, so intensely male and alert. An odd feeling raced through her, making her shiver.

Leona blamed her reaction to him on the strange events of the day and on the fact that she'd not had to deal with an
unsociable
man before. All the men of her acquaintance would talk the leg off a mule.

Ignoring her outburst, Yates picked up his saddle, flung it over a sawhorse and reached for the rifle he had placed high on a beam that morning before he took Andy to the hospital.

“Thank you,” he said as if she had spoken. “That spot in the corner will do just fine.” With that he left the barn.

As she finished milking, Leona heard the scrape of the tin conduit, as Yates moved it to the lip of the pump so that he could fill the watering tank for the two horses and the cow. Then she heard the familiar squeak as he worked the pump handle.

When Leona came out of the barn, Yates was crossing the yard on his way to the garage. Calvin tagged along behind him. JoBeth and Ruth Ann were on the back porch with a basket of eggs, gawking at the strange man coming out of their barn.

“Why is he here?” Ruth Ann demanded when Leona reached the porch.

“He's going to work in the garage until your daddy comes back.”

“What's his name?”

“Mr. Yates.”

“I don't like him.”

“You don't know him. Open the door for me.”

Inside the kitchen, Leona set the bucket of milk on the counter and spread a cloth over it. She understood that Ruth Ann resented Mr. Yates for being here when her daddy wasn't. Leona admitted that she had felt resentment, too … at first. She excused herself by putting some of the blame on the man's stand-offish attitude and on his lack of communication.

She knew that in the dead of the night, she would be glad that he and his rifle were here.

The sheriff had told Andy repeatedly that by being out here in the country and on the highway that was used nightly by bootleggers, he was a “sitting duck” for robbers.

And they'd had a few scares.

Late one evening Pretty Boy Floyd had stopped for gas. Andy had recognized him immediately and passed the time of day with him as casually as he did with all his customers. He said the man couldn't have been nicer, but Andy had been shaken by the encounter.

A month ago one of the campers had recognized the notorious George (Machine Gun) Kelly and his partner Eddie Doll who, back in January, had kidnapped a banker's son in Indiana. Andy had put gas in their car and sold them a new set of spark plugs.

A couple of times a month, in the middle of the night, a bootlegger needing gas would pound on the door. Andy was always accommodating and, whether it was that or the fact that he was crippled, he had always been treated with respect by the “men of the night” as he called them.

It would be interesting to see how Mr. Yates dealt with them.

Chapter 4

W
HY DOES CALVIN LIKE
THAT MAN?
I thought Calvin was
our
dog.” Resentment made Ruth Ann's soft mouth turn down at the corners.

“He
is
our dog. I see you got…one, two, three, four, five …six eggs. Good. That makes ten today.”

“If he's our dog, why is he following …him?” Ruth Ann demanded.

“He likes him. Maybe that should tell us that the man isn't so bad. You'll have to admit that Calvin is a good judge of men. Remember that bum that stopped here about a month ago? Calvin didn't like him, wouldn't make up to him no matter what he offered. And when the bum left, he took a pair of your daddy's pants off the clothesline.”

“There's a sack on the porch, and I can't open the door. I want to get Calvin,” JoBeth screeched and stamped her foot.

“She's in a snit,” Ruth Ann said. “She's just a stupid baby. You've spoiled her,” she added with a lofty air.

“I'm going to get into a snit myself,” Leona threatened, “if you girls don't stop fighting.”

“I want to go out,” Jo Beth yelled.

“Then go.”

“I can't 'cause of the sack.”

Feeling her patience slipping, Leona went to the front door. Against the screendoor leaned a large paper sack. She recognized it as the bag Mr. Yates had carried into the garage from the car. Leona pushed gently on the door until it moved the sack enough for her to squeeze out onto the porch. JoBeth followed.

The bag was chock-full of groceries. Leona could see cans of peaches, salmon, corn and packages of dried beans, macaroni, apricots and raisins. There were a couple of packages wrapped in white butcher paper and tied with a string—one appeared to be meat, the other cheese.

“For goodness sake! Does he think we're destitute?” Leona glanced toward the garage, saw that the back door was open and headed for it. She rapped on the door frame and called, “Mr. Yates?” When there was no reply, she stuck her head inside the door. It was dim inside the garage with the two big doors closed, but light enough for her to see that he wasn't there.

JoBeth tugged on her hand. “He's with the campers.”

Yates and the camper were working beneath the hood of the dilapidated car. Calvin stood beside him.

Grasping JoBeth's hand, Leona headed for the campground. The older woman sat on a folding chair holding the baby while the younger one supervised the children. Two of the bigger boys were feeding sticks into the campfire, where a blackened pot sat on the iron grate. They paused to watch Leona and JoBeth as they approached.

“Good evening,” she said to the woman. “Are you having to scrounge for firewood? If you need it, take a few sticks from our woodpile.”

“We have an ax, but Fred doesn't want the boys to use it. He'll go back in the woods and bring in firewood.” The woman appeared to be exhausted, but the children were in high spirits. They were clean and well-mannered. Leona wondered how the work-worn woman managed.

“I came down to ask if you could use some milk. We have a real jim-dandy cow, and she produces more milk than we can use right now. We plan to get a couple of runt pigs to fatten for winter, but in the meanwhile, I just can't bear to pour out what we can't use.”

“If you're sure you can't use it, ma'am, we'll take it off your hands.”

“Milk sours fast in the summertime. I can use just so much sour milk. I'm from the old school, just can't stand for anything to go to waste. If you can use it, I'll bring it down.”

“One of the boys will fetch it and save you a trip.”

“There's at least two gallons. Do you have some sort of a container?”

“Yes, ma'am. We have a couple of pails with good tight lids.” She motioned to one of the children, who ducked inside one of the tents and came out with two tin pails. “Paul, you and Edgar go with the lady.”

“Well, if I don't see you again, have a safe trip. I wish you all the luck in the world.”

“Thank you. We're goin to need it.”

Leona stopped beside the car. Yates's head was still bent over the motor.

“Mr. Yates, I would like to speak to you for a moment.”

He turned, looked down at her and reached for a rag to wipe his hands. “Go ahead.”

“In private, if you please.” He nodded and moved away from the car. “JoBeth,” Leona said, “take the boys to the house and tell Ruth Ann to fill the pails from the bucket of milk on the table.”

Happy to be doing something important, the child ran toward the house. The boys followed at a slower pace. Leona didn't speak to the tall man beside her until the children were out of hearing distance.

“Come get your groceries off our porch, Mr. Yates. We're not so poor that we can't feed ourselves.” Her icy-blue eyes met his unblinking gaze.

“You're not, huh?” His voice was low, husky and irritating.