“Young lady, I’d say that you have a pretty good handle on the situation.”

“See? I’m not so dumb.”

“I wondered why Papa was so eager to get a car. He hadn’t mentioned it before.” Jack sat quietly with his hands clasped on the table.

“Arrr-woof!” Sidney had his nose pressed to the screen door.

“Can I let him in, Julie? He’s not muddy or nothin’.” Jason looked imploringly at his sister.

“Honey, he’s been in the cockleburs. They’ll be on the floor and Joy will be getting them in her feet. You should be in bed. It’s almost ten o’clock.”

“Arrr-woof!”

“Oh, all right,” Jason said dejectedly. “Ever’thin’s goin’ wrong ’round here anyhow.”

“It’ll be better tomorrow. You’ll … see.” Julie’s voice was not quite convincing.

Jill raised her eyes to the ceiling. “You guys are so dumb! You’d better do somethin’ before she gets her hooks deeper into him.”

“And what do you think we ought to do?” Joe reached out a hand, clapped it on the top of Jill’s head and gave it a gentle shake.

“How do I know? You’re always tellin’ me that I’m just a kid. You think of somethin’.” Jill glanced at her sister’s frowning face, then down at the table.

“You and Jason head on up to bed. I’ll see if the quilt I put on the line is dry.” The stress lines between Julie’s brows deepened and her mouth tensed as she hurried out the door.

“You’ve upset Julie with all this talk about Papa and that woman,” Jack said. “I hope you’re satisfied.”

Evan got to his feet. “I’ll be going. Tell your father I’ll see what I can do about fixing the fenders on his car.”

“Can I ride in your car someday, Mr. Johnson?” Jason asked.

“I didn’t know you had a car.” This from Jill.

“Sure, Jason.” Evan headed for the door. “The next time I get it out of the shed.”

“Why do you ride that horse if you’ve got a car? That’s dumb.” Jill failed to see the annoyance on her older brother’s face.

“That’s enough out of you, Jill.” Joe followed his new friend out the door. “Sorry about that, Evan. Jill’s mouth runs away with her, and Julie will be put out with us for airing our family problems in front of company.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Maybe you’re worried over nothing. Your father may not be interested in Mrs. Stuart after he gets to know her better.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Night, Jack. I’m going to say good night to your sister.” Evan stepped off the porch. In the darkness he could see Julie was struggling with a heavy quilt on the clothesline. As he approached, a low growl came from Sidney, who stood stiff-legged beside her. “Will the dog take my leg off if I help you with that?”

“Sidney, it’s all right.” She spoke calmly to the dog. Then to Evan: “I’ve about got it turned. I washed it this afternoon. I thought it would be dry by now.”

“There was a lot of humidity today and it looked like we were in for a good rain.” Evan easily lifted the quilt and flung it over the line. “It’s clear tonight. That moon looks like someone hung a yellow ball in the sky.”

“Or a balloon.” Julie took extra pains seeing that the quilt was straight on the line because she didn’t know what else to say.

Evan knew what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t blurt it right out.
Damn my heart for beating so fast and making me feel like a callow youth
.

“Joe is standing on the porch keeping an eye on me,” he said and chuckled.

“What does he think you’re going to do?”

“I admire him for watching over you,” he said instead of answering her question.

“He’s very dear to me. All of them are, but Joe is special.”

A breeze came up and wrapped strands of her long hair around her neck. She gathered it in her hands and brought it all forward over one shoulder.

“You’re lucky to have brothers and sisters.” His words came out slowly and fell into the quiet pool of silence.

“You might not think so if you could hear them squabbling all at once. It was tame tonight. They were united against …” Her voice trailed.

“I understand their concern.”

“Papa is a levelheaded man. He’ll not do anything to hurt the family.”

Evan made no comment. He was trying to think of a way to keep her out here in the dark with him a little longer. Worry that her father might be driving in at any minute forced him to blurt out what he had come to say.

“Julie … would you go with me to the picture show or out to Spring Lake some night?”

His head was tilted to the side. Julie could feel his eyes on her face. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, could scarcely breathe. They were alone in the dark. Her thoughts were so muddled that she couldn’t remember exactly what he had said.

“If you don’t want to go, I’ll understand. It’s Walter, isn’t it?”

“You’re not like … your father,” she said quickly.

“God, I hope not. Walk with me over to the pen to get my horse.” He reached for her hand, holding it lightly to give her a chance to withdraw it. When she didn’t, he drew it up into the crook of his arm, holding the back of it pressed to his side. She slipped her hand from his arm when they reached the pole corral and he missed the warm touch.

Had he gone too fast, been too intimate?

“Joe asked me to come to the ball game tomorrow afternoon.”

“You don’t have to be invited. It’s open to anyone who wants to come.”

“How about going out with me next Saturday night?”

“All right.” Julie wondered what he would think if he knew that she had never been asked out on a date.

“We’ll go wherever you want to go, to the picture show or to the dance.”

“May I decide later?”

“Sure. I’ll have to give Jason a ride in the car before we go. I promised him.”

“He’ll not let you forget it.”

“Thanks for the fudge.”

“You’re welcome,” she said softly.

Evan opened the gate. “I hear your father coming. I’ll let myself out the back gate. Good night, Julie.”

“Good night, Evan.”

Chapter 7

T
HE RED LIGHT WAS ON
. It was the signal for Chief Corbin Appleby to call the telephone operator or come to the office. Hung in the center of the line stretched across Main Street from the telephone office to the hardware store, the light shone for only the second time since Corbin’s swearing in three days ago.

Diane Ham, the telephone operator, had turned the signal on yesterday when the county supervisor wanted the chief’s input on the room they were remodeling in the basement of the courthouse to use as a temporary jail while a more permanent facility was being made ready.

Chief Appleby hurriedly passed the people milling around on the sidewalk in front of the stores. The revival meeting had just ended, and a number of cars were parked along the street. To the folks who came to town only on Saturday night, it was a chance to visit with friends and get caught up on the news. The crowd parted to allow the new police chief to pass, then their eyes followed him to the telephone office.

Mrs. Ham looked up when the chief came in the door but continued to talk into the mouthpiece that hung around her neck.

“Chief Appleby is here now, Mrs. Reynolds. I must hang up so I can tell him what you’ve told me.” Mrs. Ham, a petite blonde, widowed by the war, pulled the plug from the switchboard. “Mrs. Reynolds says that something is going on in the house across the street from hers. Otto Bloom and his wife are fighting. Their little boy ran over to tell her that his papa was beating his mama. Mrs. Reynolds says hurry. He has hurt her before and could kill her this time.”

“Where do they live?” the chief asked on the way to the door.

“Two blocks toward the river from the corner and a half block north. Mrs. Reynolds will be waiting in the yard,” Mrs. Ham called as Corbin shot out the door, letting it bang shut behind him.

Corbin could run a half mile without breaking into a sweat. He liked to run. During his high school days he had been state champion in the mile and long-distance races and had considered training for the national competition, but his need to hold a job had prevented that. However, to stay fit he went out into the country once a week, usually on Sunday, and ran a mile or two.

He trotted effortlessly down the middle of the darkened street, holding the gun on his hip to keep it from bouncing. He had just turned and slowed when a woman, clutching the hand of a small boy, stepped out from behind a tree.

“Hurry! She’s crying and begging.” Then they heard clearly the sound of a crash coming from the house.

Corbin hardly paused to hear what the woman said. He bounded up the porch steps and flung open the door. He could hear a woman sobbing and pleading in the next room. Long strides took him to the doorway.

“Don’t …Otto. Please—”

“What’s going on here?”

A man was holding a woman by the hair. She was on her knees and he was slapping her with his free hand. He looked up at Corbin with bloodshot eyes.

“Who …the hell are you? Get outta my house!” The words were slurred.

“I’m the police. Let her go.”

“This’s my woman. This’s my house.” The clean-shaven man wore a white shirt splattered with blood. He jerked on his wife’s hair. She cried out and he drew back his fist.

“Hit her again, and I’ll beat you to a pulp.” Corbin sprang across the room and grabbed the man’s arm. “Let go of her hair, you spineless worm, or by God, I’ll break your damn arm.”

Yelping at the pressure, Otto released his grip on his wife. She fell back sobbing. With each sob, blood spurted from her nose. The apron that covered her dress was soaked. The thin brunette, who may have been pretty once, scrambled to her feet and stood back against the wall.

The chief jerked the abuser’s arm behind his back. The man began to struggle.

“Ya got no right to be messin’ in my ’ffairs—”

Corbin had had plenty of experience in dealing with tough drunks while he was in the army, and he subdued and handcuffed the pudgy man easily. In the process Corbin’s foot kicked something solid. He looked down to see a large chunk of coal on the floor.

“Did he hit you with that coal?” he asked the cowering woman.

“He threw it. It hit me on the back.”

Corbin jerked the cuffed hands up between the man’s shoulder blades. He yelped in pain.

“Yeow! Ya …son-of-a—”

“Call me that and I’ll throw both your damn shoulder bones out of joint. A man that’d beat a defenseless woman isn’t fit for crow bait.”

“He’s …drunk,” the woman said between sobs.

“You need to see the doctor, lady. I’ll put this pile of dung away and send the doc down.”

“You’re takin’ him?”

“Yeah, I’m taking him. He can sober up in jail.”

“Now, listen here”—Otto was becoming agitated again—“ya got no right to take me nowhere. I work for Mr. Wood—”

“I don’t care if you work for the Lord Jesus Christ. You’re going to jail. Not because you’re drunk, but because of what you’ve done to this woman.”

“Couldn’t you …just tie him up here …till he sobers up?” The woman’s muffled voice came through the cloth she was holding to her nose. “He could lose his job.”

“No. He’s going to jail.” Corbin shoved the man against the wall. “Stay there,” he commanded. He took the woman by the arm and led her to a chair. One of her eyes was swollen shut and would likely be very black in a short time. Corbin began to grow angry when he looked over at Otto Bloom. The man’s expression was one of an outraged child who had been picked on by a bully.

Corbin took a minute to look around. The house was surprisingly neat except for the smashed dishes and food on the floor. The table had been set for supper when the fight began.