Song of the Road (31 page)

Read Song of the Road Online

Authors: Dorothy Garlock

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Adult, #Historical, #Western, #American, #Frontier and Pioneer Life, #2000s

BOOK: Song of the Road
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The sheriff noticed how close the two were standing and that Jake’s arm was around her, holding her to him.

“It’s a good thing, Jake, that Sheriff McChesney over in Oklahoma said the little dude was a straight shooter, or you’d be in jail. He said that if Deke Bales said you were with him, you were with him. That doesn’t mean that you didn’t sneak out, kill Frank, and sneak back in while he was asleep. So you’re not off the hook yet.”

“Are you accusing Jake!” Mary Lee punctuated the statement by stepping in front of Jake.

“At this point I’m not ruling anyone out. Not even you. Some are wondering why you’re not in jail, Mrs. Clawson. After all, you had as much reason to kill Frank as anyone.”

“I didn’t want him dead. I just wanted him to move.”

“Whoever killed Frank was crazy mad at him, mad enough to bury the bottle in his throat after they slit it with a knife. And he knew who it was or they’d not have gotten close enough to him to do it. You were mad enough at him, Mrs. Clawson, to attack him with the plate. Did a good job on him too.”

“You know why I did that. He was trying to draw Jake into a fight so he’d get in trouble and be sent back to prison.”

“Looks like Jake’s been in a fight.”

“Yeah, and I struck the first blow. I plowed into Yancy Hummer six ways from Sunday, and I’d do it again for the same reason.”

“I’ve talked to Paco. I know what happened.” At the door of the kitchen, the sheriff paused. “If nobody here killed Frank, there’s a killer running around out there. The women shouldn’t be alone in the house all night. I can’t leave the deputy here; I’ve got a whole county to patrol.”

“They won’t be alone. Deke and I will bed down on the porch.”

The sheriff leveled his gaze on Mary Lee. “Like the fox watching the henhouse, huh? When will the doctor be back?”

“Sometime in the morning, unless . . . I need him.”

“Tell him not to put her to sleep until after I talk to her again.”

“I’ll tell him what you said.”

After the sheriff left, Jake and Eli moved the barrels so that Jake could bring his truck in off the highway and park it by his cabin. Shortly after they came back to the house, Deke returned with Trudy riding in the sidecar of his motorcycle.

Mary Lee was sitting beside her mother. Trudy looked in, then went back to the kitchen.

“Stupid sheriff. I ain’t tellin’ him nothin’.” Dolly’s voice was stronger. Her words were a surprise.

“Do you know anything to tell him, Mama?”

“Plenty, but I ain’t goin’ to.”

Mary Lee sat quietly, rubbing her mother’s hand. She didn’t know what to say. After a minute or two she felt the tightening of her mother’s fingers.

“Can I . . . have another drink? I’ll not ask . . . for a while.” Mary Lee looked into eyes that pleaded, eyes that were dull and faded. Her mother spoke again before she could get out of the chair.

“I . . . know you hate it . . .”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. But the doctor said you could have it.”

“He . . . thinks I’m dyin’.”

“He never said that. He said to keep you comfortable.”

“Is he comin’ back?”

“Do you want him to?”

“I want to sleep.”

“Then he’ll be back tomorrow.”

Mary Lee left the room and returned with some whiskey in a glass. She lifted her mother as she had done before and held her while she gulped the fiery liquid.

“Will you eat something now? I have corn bread, boiled cabbage, carrots and potatoes. I’ll mash some of the potatoes and put butter on them.”

“I couldn’t get down a bite, lovey.” Dolly closed her eyes. Mary Lee was so shocked to hear the endearment that she went stone still, her eyes glued to her mother’s face. Then, without her being aware of it, tears squeezed from her lids and rolled down her cheeks. When she was younger, she would have given anything to hear her mother call her “lovey.” Now that she had done so, it was too late for her to love her as she should.

As soon as Mary Lee composed herself, she went to the kitchen, where Trudy was wiping the stove, making work for herself.

“Where’s Eli?”

“Out on the back stoop. Jake told him to stay here while he and Deke went down to his cabin.”

Mary Lee went out and sat down beside the boy. “Can I hug you?”

“If . . . ya want to.”

“We’ve been through a lot together since you came here.” She put her arm around his thin shoulders and hugged him. “I don’t know if I could have managed without you.” She rested her cheek against his shoulder. “Mama’s dying, Eli,” she whispered.

“Ah . . . you sure?”

“The doctor as much as said so. I never thought about her dying. I’m sorry now that I wasn’t more understanding of what was wrong with her.”

“She was . . . hard to understand.”

“You’ll be my family now. You and the baby. Promise me that you’ll not leave.”

“Ya’ll have Jake and Trudy.”

“Jake won’t want to be burdened with another man’s child.”

“It don’t seem to bother him none. If I was old enough I’d marry you . . . if you’d have me.”

“Why, Eli”— she lifted her head to look at him —“is this a proposal?”

“Kinda.”

“Can I wait to see if you’re goin’ to be a famous lawyer or doctor or politician before I give you my answer?”

“I’m not goin’ to be any of those thin’s. I want to live on a ranch and raise horses.”

“Like Jake, huh?”

“I wanted to before I met Jake.”

“I hope you get to do that.”

In the near-dark, she watched Jake and Deke come up the lane from the number six cabin. Each carried a canvas cot and bedding. When they reached the porch, they placed the bundles on it and Jake went back for a second load.

“Why’re ya sittin’ so close to my girl?” Deke demanded.

“I thought Trudy was your girl,” Eli retorted.

“I can have two girls. Ain’t that right, darlin’?” Deke was busy putting up the canvas cot.

“Don’t count me as one of them,
darlin’.
” Trudy came out of the house.

“I told your mama that I’d take care of ya and that makes ya one of my girls, sugarfoot.”

“You’re as windy as a cyclone. Don’t your mouth ever stop?” “Yeah, when I’m kissin’ my girl. Want me to show ya?” Deke made to grab her. Trudy let out a little cry and dodged around to the other side of Mary Lee.

“Don’t you dare, you . . . you masher!”

“Masher? That cuts me to the quick, darlin’.”

“What’s a masher?” Eli asked.

“It’s a . . . a flirt, a wolf, a skirt chaser —”

“You two. If you’re not the limit,” Mary Lee said, smiling at her friend. “Have you ever had a serious conversation?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Deke went back to setting up the cots. “When she explained to me that she’s been lookin’ for a man like me all her life and —”

“You liar. I never told you any such thing!”

“What’s all the yelling about?” Jake had returned. He carried his radio in his arms.

“Trudy just confessed her undyin’ love for me, is all.” Deke spoke as if bored by the whole thing.

“Someday . . . I’m going to kill you,” Trudy gasped.

“Can it wait until after we listen to Ed Wynn, the Texaco fire chief?”

“I’d better go see about Mama.” Mary Lee had just stepped inside the kitchen door when she heard Deke speak. She paused to listen.

“This little squirt was huggin’ up to yore woman, Jake.” “I noticed that. I was about to bash his head in.”

“I saw her first,” Eli muttered.

“No, you didn’t,” Jake said. “I saw her when she was about six or seven years old — long before you were a gleam in your daddy’s eye.”

“Does it bother you that she’s goin’ to have another man’s baby?” Eli asked.

Inside the kitchen Mary Lee’s hand flew to her mouth.

“What do you mean, bother me?”

“She said that you’d not want to be bothered with another man’s kid. If I was old enough, I’d marry her.”

“Thank God you’re not old enough. She thinks you’re the prize in the crackerjack box as it is.”

“Why don’t you marry her?”

In the dark kitchen Mary Lee groaned.

“Eli Stacy!” Trudy said with irritation. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to ask personal questions?”

“No, and if they had, I’d still ask it.”

“It’s all right, Trudy. He’s concerned for her, as we all are. I don’t have anything to offer her, Eli. She’d not want to hook up with a jailbird that’s poor as a church mouse.”

“You could help her run the court.”

“And take your job?”

Mary Lee swallowed the large lump that was blocking her breathing passage. She didn’t want to hear any more. She hurried through the semidarkened house to slump against the door to her mother’s room.
An eavesdropper never hears anything good about himself.
The old saying popped into her mind.

Humiliation washed over her.

Jake couldn’t come right out and say that he didn’t think of her as a . . . a sweetheart in spite of the Spanish endearments, but as a pregnant woman who needed a helping hand. He would do the same if she were twenty years older than he was, weighed two hundred pounds and was as ugly as a mud fence.

Mary Lee’s imagination sprouted legs and began to run away with her. He may have loved a girl, gotten her pregnant and lost her when he went to prison. Or, with his love of animals, he may have seen the suffering endured when one of his mares gave birth and had a special feeling for pregnant females. It was even possible that his mother had died in childbirth.

After checking to see if her mother was asleep, she went back through the house to the porch, knowing the others would come to see what was keeping her. Ignoring the vacant place between Eli and Jake, she sat down on the end of the bench beside Trudy and leaned back against the wall. Jake had run an electric line from the washhouse so they could listen to the radio. After the
Fire Chief,
Jake turned the dial to Nashville, Tennessee, so they could hear the
Grand Ole Opry.

Roy Acuff was singing about careless love. The next performer was someone singing “There’s An Empty Cot in the Bunkhouse Tonight.” The sweet harmony of the Carter Family came from the radio. They sang hymns for almost a half hour.

Trudy and Deke were having a low, intimate conversation, not teasing each other for a change. Jake had not said a word since Mary Lee came back out of the house.

After a soft male voice sang “My Tumbledown Shack,” his next song was “A Convict’s Dream.” Mary Lee thought that she couldn’t sit still another minute.

“I’ll go see about Mama, then I think I’ll lie down for a while.”

Jake was at the door when she opened it. “Are you feeling all right?” His hand was warm on her arm.

“Of course,” she said, more sharply than she intended. “You’re not to worry. Deke and Eli will be here in the back. I’ll be on the front porch.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” She stepped into the house; his hand fell from her arm, and she hurried into the bedroom to sit on the side of the bed, her face in her hands.

Mary Lee was sure that the only misery she could compare to this was how she felt when her father died and she was far from home without money to come say her final good-bye to him.

Her mother was dying.

She was going to lose the motor court.

And Jake . . . oh, Lord, she had fooled herself into thinking that he cared for her when he only . . . felt sorry for her. How could she have been so stupid as to think his interest in her was anything but compassion for a pregnant woman who was having a tough time?

 

Chapter 22

T
RUDY MOVED QUIETLY ABOUT
, placing the plates on the table. She had stirred up a batch of pancake batter and was waiting for the round iron griddle to heat on the stove. Coffee was made, and syrup and butter were on the table.

When she heard steps on the back porch, she quickly went to the door and pressed her forefinger to her lips.

“Shhh . . . She’s still asleep.” Eli and Deke came in, followed by Jake. “She was up most of the night with her mother and she’s ’bout worn to a frazzle.”

“How is Mrs. Finley?” Eli asked.

“I don’t know. One minute she’s callin’ for whiskey and before Mary Lee can get it, she’s cussin’ a blue streak.” Trudy shook her head and clicked her tongue. “She looks terrible this morning. Sometimes she makes sense and other times she’s out of her head.”

Trudy went back to the stove and poured batter onto the grill. Deke poured coffee. Jake still stood hesitantly beside the door.

“Sit down, Jake. Your eye’s not so swollen this morning but still looks bad. Can you see out of it?”

“Little bit.”

“It’s black as the ace of spades clear down onto your cheekbone. Reminds me of that big old white dog on the Victrola label with the black circle around its eye.”

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