Song of the Road (18 page)

“
Querida,
don’t cry!”

“I . . . can’t help it . . .”

“Where’s that spunky girl who hit Frank with the plate?”

“I’m . . . tired of being . . . spunky. I’m tired of . . . being alone . . . having to do everything —”

“You’re not alone, little
amante.
You’ve got me and Eli and Trudy,” he whispered against her ear.

“They’re goin’ to keep at you till you’re sent back to jail . . . and I might lose the court. That damn old Ocie thinks he has a claim to my baby —”

“Don’t worry about him,
querida.
He’ll have nothing to say about your baby if you don’t want him to. I swear it.”

“Everything has piled on all at once. I’m just so . . . scared.”

“Don’t be scared. I’ll be here. It was the thought of going back to jail, leaving you, that kept me from beating the hell out of Frank.” His lips were against her wet cheek.

“I worried that you’d fight him and get in trouble.” Mary Lee opened her eyes, but tears blinded her. She tried to wipe her cheeks with the back of her hand, but he moved her hand away and held it in his.

“It’s been a long time since anyone worried about me.” He lowered his head, and his warm lips caressed her forehead. “Feel better now? Eli is standing over there ready to take on the world with a willow switch for making you cry.”

“I’m . . . sorry. I don’t usually let go.”

“After what you’ve had to put up with, you’re entitled to let go once in a while.” Jake took the new bandanna from around his neck and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll be glad to hold you if you want to cry some more,” he teased.

“I’m all cried out.” Mary Lee moved back; his arms dropped from around her, but his hands moved down and clasped hers. “Thanks for the loan of your shoulder,” she said.

“It’s available anytime.”

Mary Lee’s hands slipped from his. She stepped up onto the step and turned to look at him.

“Jake, have we ever met before?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I just feel like I know you. Something about your eyes and your . . . face strikes a chord in my memory.”

“It was a long time ago when you were a little girl.” He reached for her hand again as if he needed to touch her.

“Then you must have been a little boy.”

“I was eleven or thereabout.”

“I would have been seven or eight?”

“I thought you were the prettiest little thing I’d ever seen.” “You couldn’t have thought that! I was ugly . . . all arms and legs, snaggletoothed and freckled.”

His laugh was low, a soft intimate sound that came out of the darkness.

“You don’t remember being kind to a tired, hungry kid with sore feet?”

She squinted her eyes and looked at his face. Smiling softly, she said, “I remember! You came off the road and went straight to the well but didn’t drink until you’d asked for the water.”

“My tongue was so swollen I’m surprised I could talk.” “A cowboy had taken you out in the hills and dumped you . . . without your shoes. Your poor feet — were bloody.”

“You cried and held my hand while your daddy cleaned them. He smeared them with salve and wrapped them.”

“You didn’t let out a peep while he was doing it. I thought you were brave . . .”

“I wasn’t going to cry while a little girl with big blue eyes watched me, no matter how much it hurt.”

“I had never noticed green eyes before. I asked Daddy why yours were green and not blue like mine. He said God made them green so you could see better in the mountains where you came from.”

“That was fast thinking.”

“You stayed two days. Then a man came to get you in a wagon. Who was he?”

“Temple Clawson.”

“What happened to the cowboy? Did he get fired?”

“I never told who did it.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t want to cause more trouble.”

“When you helped me with the mattress I was sure that I’d met you before. You knew who I was, didn’t you?”

“Of course. I’m sorry about your father.”

Standing on the step, her eyes were level with his. She looked searchingly into them for a long time, then turned to open the screen door.

“Good night, Jake.”

“ ’Night, Mary Lee.”

Sleep didn’t come easily for Mary Lee despite her tired and aching back. The baby was restless and seemed to be constantly on the move. She pressed her hand to her abdomen.

“Be still, baby. You’re going to be all right.”

Her mind was filled with memories of a quiet, dignified boy. She could see his face as he struggled to keep from crying as he hobbled to the well to get a drink of water. That face with the leaf-green eyes had stayed in the back of her mind all these years. It was no wonder that she was startled when she saw the man he had grown up to be.

Was it possible that she had fallen in love with Jake Ramero, accused cattle rustler, prison parolee? He had been kind tonight, letting her cry on his shoulder. She knew enough Spanish to know that the endearments he’d murmured were merely comforting words.

Earlier, she had sat in his truck, as still as a stump, and let him kiss her. Good Lord. She had made it easy for him, and what’s more, she had enjoyed it. She’d not have protested if he had done it again and again, hadn’t even protested when his hand moved down to rest on her rounded stomach.

She could still see the wonder on his face when he saw the cake. Gratitude.
That was why he had kissed her.

Other questions formed in her mind. Why had she let what her mother said about her always being a pain hurt her so? Was it because she had said it in front of Jake? She had known for years how her mother felt about her, but she had not really put it in words before.

Mary Lee doubted that her mother had drawn a dozen sober breaths since she’d returned home. Oftentimes drink made people brave enough to say what they really thought about things. Thinking about the hatred she had seen in the eyes of her mother’s friends, she shivered.

She had never been afraid before, but tonight she was aware of every sound. Cars passed on the highway; one of the cabin doors slammed. In the distance a dog sent up a howl.

Mary Lee got out of bed and brought a chair from the kitchen, shut her door and wedged the chair’s back beneath the doorknob. It wasn’t much protection, but she would hear if someone tried to enter her room. The door to the bathroom opened inward. All she could do was drag her trunk across the door and set her shoes on top. If someone tried to come in that way, the shoes might fall off and wake her.

Back in bed, she huddled beneath the sheet and wished that Jake were in number one instead of the farthest cabin. Although Jake was a big man, there was something vulnerable about him, something that made her want to protect him.

Oh, heck! she groaned. She was developing a crush on him. And he thought of her as merely the daughter — pregnant daughter — of a man who had once befriended him.

Her last thought before sleep overtook her was that she hoped Frank stayed in jail for a long, long time and that that
thing
he had so proudly displayed would never work properly again.

Mr. Santez knocked on the back door while Mary Lee was cooking breakfast.

“Ya all right?” he asked through the screen door.

“I’m fine. Come in and have coffee.”

“Can’t.” He opened the door and stepped inside. “Got to get back to the station. Rosa was worried after what happened last night and wanted to be sure that lout hadn’t hurt you.”

“Is it all over town already?”

“Not yet. When the boy came to call the sheriff, he just happened to be there to get gas. He took right off and when he came back, he had Frank Pierce with him. Frank was yellin’ and cursin’ and callin’ ya nasty names. The sheriff got gas and told him to can it or he’d put a gag in his mouth. Guess they was headed for Doc Morris.”

“I hit him with the edge of a plate.”

“He was blabbin’ that ya broke somethin’.”

“I hope I did and it falls off,” she blurted. Her face turned scarlet when she realized what she had said.

“Take care, girl. Frank’s mean and he runs with a mean bunch.”

“I will, and thank you for thinking about me. I’ll get over to see Rosa one of these days.”

“Will Jake be stayin’ on now he finished his bridge job?”

“I think so.”

“Glad to hear it. If ya get in a bind and need help, and Jake ain’t here, send the boy down. I’ll lock up and beat it up here. The boy ’pears to be right sensible, by the way.”

“He’s been a big help.”

Mary Lee was taking the biscuits out of the oven when Eli bounded up onto the porch and snatched open the door.

“What’d Mr. Santez want?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to know if things were all right here. Where have you been?”

“Down with Jake. He’s getting ready to take the new signs out.”

“Has he left yet?”

“No. He’s loadin’ up.”

“The least we can do is give him breakfast. Go tell him to come in and have biscuits and sausage gravy before he goes.”

Mary Lee flinched when the screen door slammed behind Eli. She hoped that the sound hadn’t wakened her mother. She strained her ears for a sound that didn’t come.

Eli returned and took his place at the table. Jake stood hesitantly in the doorway.

“You don’t have to feed me.”

Mary Lee looked at him and grinned. “I’m not going to. You’ll have to feed yourself. I’m merely supplying the biscuits and gravy. It’s a trial run to see how we’ll do tomorrow morning when we feed the overnighters . . . that is, if we have any after we raise the price.”

He smiled. It changed his quiet face, making him look younger than his twenty-six years.

“That gravy smells good . . .”

“Come take a seat. Go ahead and help yourself before Eli gets up to full speed or you might not get anything. I’ll pour your coffee.”

“I’ll pour it.” Eli jumped up and beat her to the pot. While he poured into the three cups, Mary Lee brought a jar of peach preserves to the table and sat down.

“You mean I’ll have to wrestle this kid for a biscuit?” Jake teased.

He put his hat on the floor under his chair and sat at the end of the table. His eyes followed Mary Lee. She was wearing a man’s shirt. The collar had been cut off and the sleeves cut short. Her face was flushed from the heat of the oven. Damp wisps of hair stuck to her cheeks. She had made no attempt to pretty herself up, but she didn’t need to. She was pretty and soft and womanly.

Jake wondered how he should approach her about paying for his breakfast, not only this morning but every morning. He had tried to think of ways he could help her without stepping on her pride. It had not been a surprise to him that Rosen at the bank was eager to get his hands on Mary Lee’s motor court, and she needed all the money she could get to pay off the loan.

She wouldn’t lose this place if it took every cent he had saved to start his cattle operation.

“If my overnight guests eat as much as you and Eli, I’ll have to raise the price,” Mary Lee teased after they had finished the meal.

“You shouldn’t have such good biscuits,” Jake said. “And . . . Lordy, but that gravy’s good too.”

“It’s a good thing biscuits are cheap to make.”

“I know what you can do,” Eli said, smiling broadly. “You can make the biscuits lumpy and doughy. They’ll not eat so many.”

“And never come back.”

“Not many of them do anyway. They’re one-timers mostly.”

“There’s a problem with that.” Jake stood and hit Eli on the back with his hat. “I’ll not be a one-timer if it’s all right with Mary Lee.”

“Ya signin’ up to eat with us?”

“It would be handy.” His eyes snagged Mary Lee’s. He dug into his pocket and placed a twenty-five-cent piece on the table.

“No. I invited you.” She picked up the quarter and put it back in his hand. “I should pay you for putting up our signs.”

“Don’t even mention it.” Jake went to the door and turned to catch her with her hand pressed to the small of her back. She dropped it to her side when she realized he was looking at her. “Do you keep the doors locked at night?”

“Mama’s room is the only one with a key.”

“I can put a drop bar across your door.”

“Well . . . if you want to.”

“Stick close to her while I’m gone, Eli. And if you have to use . . . ah . . . what I gave you, use it where I told you to.”

“Don’t worry.” Eli followed Jake out the door.

Mary Lee was taking the dishes from the table and piling them in the dishpan when she heard Jake’s truck start up and drive away. Shortly after that, Eli came back in the kitchen.

“What did he give you and what are you going to do with it?” she asked with her back to him. When he didn’t answer, she turned. “Eli?”

Reluctantly he pulled an object from his pocket.