Dorothy Garlock (20 page)

The look of surprise on George’s face kept her smiling while she made the call.

“Something has come up, Mrs. Poole, and I’ll not be there for supper. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner.”

“Well . . . I’d made bread pudding with raisins just because it’s your favorite.”

“That was nice of you. I must go now. Good-bye.” April refused to feel guilty and happily left the office.

George and his friend were waiting beside the steps when she returned. They were in their work clothes, she in her nurse’s uniform, so no one could possibly think that this was a prearranged date.

“This isn’t a date, George,” she said when she joined them on the sidewalk. “I’ll pay for my own supper.”

“Now, what would folks think if I took a lady to dine and she had to pay for her own supper? My reputation would be ruined in this town.”

“What reputation?” Russ snorted. He was a short man with sandy hair and a receding hairline. His eyes were small and close together beneath heavy brows that met at the bridge of his nose. His mouth was wide, his lower lip curled, and his teeth tobacco-stained. He appeared to be slightly older than George. He had been with George when he came to the clinic the day she arrived.

April walked down the street between the two men. She was comfortable in their company. George was fun to be with and was well aware that she didn’t take him seriously. She chatted with the two men about nonsensical matters until they reached Sparky’s.

“Well, howdy.” Sparky’s voice boomed in the small room when they came in the door. “Come in, folks. Take either one of the tables over by the window. I’ll be with you in a minute.” It was Sparky’s favorite joke because there was only one table beside the window.

Several men at the counter turned to look at them, and Sparky’s voice boomed again.

“Seat the lady and behave yourself, George. See that he does, Russ. Miss Asbury’s special around here. He gets out of line, ma’am, just yell. I’ll be on ’im like a goose on a June bug.”

Looking as pleased as a boy with a new slingshot, George pulled out her chair. After she was seated, the men took chairs on either side of her. The white oilcloth cover on the table was scrupulously clean. Salt and pepper shakers and a small vinegar cruet sat in the middle of the table.

The menu was posted on a large chalkboard behind the counter. The choices were: liver and onions or hot beef sandwich with mashed potatoes and gravy for twenty-five cents or T-bone steak for thirty-five cents. Fresh apple, peach and chokecherry pies were on the menu, too. Mrs. Sparky was famous for her pies.

“All right, folks, what’ll it be?” Sparky, in a white apron and white shirt, his sparse hair slicked down, came from behind the counter. He was carrying two glasses of water in one hand and one in the other.

April was suddenly hungry. “I want the hot beef sandwich and a glass of iced tea.”

Both men ordered the liver and onions.

“You orderin’ onions and courtin’ a girl?” Sparky snorted and looked down his nose at George. “I’ll have to take you back behind the barn and tell you a thing or two ’bout courtin’ women.”

“I didn’t know you were an authority on courtin’, Sparky.” One of the men on the stools turned to look at the group at the table.

“Well, I am. Ask Mrs. Sparky. I bowled her over with my courtin’.”

“That right, Mrs. Sparky?” the man called.

“Right as rain,” she called back. “He chased me till I caught him.”

Her remark brought laughter from the men at the counter. “Make mine the hot beef sandwich.” George looked irritated.

“Me, too,” Russ said.

“Both of ya courtin’ her?”

“They are not courting me,” April said quickly and laughed. “They’re trying to get me on their horseshoe team. They’re tired of losing.”

“Well, I can understand that. Neither one of ’em could hit the side of a barn, much less a stake. My old dog, Peanuts, could outpitch ’em.”

“You’ve had your fun, Sparky,” George growled. “Get back to business, or I’ll go to the kitchen and tell Mrs. Sparky a thing or two about the time we went over to Mason for a tournament.”

“You do that, you sneaky polecat, and I’ll put saltpeter in your gravy.” Sparky added the last in a whisper. “You still wantin’ the liver and onions?”

“Naw. I’ll take the hot beef.”

“Three hot beefs, hon,” Sparky called. “With a side order of fried onions. I ain’t wantin’ these two crackerjack horse-shoe pitchers to go away mad. They’d throw our next game for pure cussedness.”

“Sparky’s got the runnin’ off at the mouth,” George explained when Sparky went to the kitchen.

“He must like you, or he’d not rib you so hard.” As April spoke, Jack Jones came in the diner and hung his hat on the peg beside the door.

“Howdy, Marshal,” Sparky called.

“Not yet. I’ve not been sworn in.” Jack looked around and saw April seated at the table with George and Russ Story. “You sneaky polecat,” he said to George. “What are you doin’ here with my girl?”

“I ain’t heard that you’ve got strings on her.”

“We’re keepin’ it a secret. Right, April?”

“Hello, Jack.” April smiled up at him. “Are you working tonight?”

“I’m not sure. Corbin went home to see about Annabel. He’s as nervous as an ant on a hot stove.”

“That’s pretty nervous.”

Sparky brought two plates of food to the table. “Howdy, Jack. Whattaya havin’?”

“That looks pretty good,” he said, eyeing the pile of bread, beef and potatoes covered with thick, rich gravy.

“Grab a seat, and I’ll tell the missus to dish ya up some.” “I’ll sit at the counter. George is givin’ me dirty looks. He’s scared I’m goin’ to sit down here.”

The meal was delicious, the atmosphere relaxing, even if Russ Story didn’t enter into the conversation. April could feel his eyes on her throughout the meal but nevertheless enjoyed herself. When they were ready to leave, she waved good-bye to Jack and to Mrs. Sparky, who returned the wave from the kitchen. She would have offered to pay but was afraid of embarrassing George.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” she said when they were standing on the walk in front of the diner. She looked from one man to the other. Russ grunted and grinned but said nothing.

“It was our treat to have the best-lookin’ woman in town take supper with us,” George said with a wide smile.

“It’s nice of you to say so even if it’s not true. I’d better be getting on down to the clinic to see if Doc is there in case Corbin Appleby comes looking for him.”

“I’ll walk with ya. Didn’t ya have someplace to go, Russ?” “No,” Russ said firmly and took his place on the other side of April. George mumbled something that resembled a swear word under his breath.

As they neared the clinic, April could see the light was on in the reception room.

“Doc may have an emergency.” She hastened her steps. At the walk leading up to the porch of the clinic, she stopped and called, “Thanks again for supper. Good night.”

“She’s here.” Doc was speaking into the telephone when she opened the door. He replaced the receiver on the hook. “We need to get a b-boy to Mason to the hospital.”

“All right. What do you want me to do?”

“Go with him and his pa. He c-could go into shock before he gets there. I’d go, but Annabel Appleby is h-having pains, and I don’t dare leave t-town. I saw Jack earlier. I’ll get Diane to find him.” He picked up the phone.

“He’s at Sparky’s,” April said. “Or was a few minutes ago.” He spoke to the operator, then said to April, “He can take my car. These f-folks don’t have one. Berle,” he said after hanging up the phone, “I’ll get w-word to Mrs. Thacker.”

“Thanks, Doc.” The man was so shaken his voice trembled.

Ten minutes later they were speeding out of town. Berle Thacker was in the front with Jack, and Berle’s eight-year-old son, Buddy, was in the backseat with April. Buddy had been playing with the fireworks his father had stored in a shed. They exploded and severely injured his hand and lower arm. Doc was hoping the doctors at the hospital would be able to save the boy’s hand.

“How far to Mason?” April asked Jack.

“We should make it in about thirty minutes.”

She held the boy’s head and shoulders in her lap. The shot Doc had given the boy had temporarily put him to sleep. His hand and arm, encased in a bloody bandage, rested on his chest.

Mr. Thacker was chastising himself for leaving the fireworks where Buddy could get to them, knowing how fascinated children were with explosives.

“There were just a couple of Roman candles and a few cherry bombs. I thought to set them off after the harvest party when the young folks came back from the hayride.”

“He might have found them no matter where you put them. I remember how Joe and I used to pester Pa to buy a few firecrackers,” Jack said. “The ones he bought were each so small they would hardly lift a tin can off the ground. But altogether they would be pretty powerful.”

The car sped through the dark night stirring up a cloud of dust in its wake. April was aware of passing through two small towns. Then she heard Jack tell Mr. Thacker that Mason would be the next town. She hoped and prayed the boy’s hand could be saved. She envisioned the hurt of a small boy being unable to play baseball, roll a hoop or tie his shoes.

It seemed an incredibly long time before the lights of Mason came in view. Jack seemed to know just where to go, and minutes later he was turning the car into the drive at the hospital. Mr. Thacker carried his son into the building, with April following close behind.

Although her nurse’s uniform was wrinkled and bloodstained, she was able to command enough authority to get the boy immediate attention. After she had given the attending physician the necessary information, there was nothing for her and Jack to do but wait.

“Was the hospital where you worked this big?” Jack asked when he and April were seated in chairs in the hall outside the surgery.

“It was much bigger. It had five floors, and the emergency area covered half of the bottom floor. They needed the space. Kansas City is a pretty rough place, as are all big cities nowadays with so many bootleggers and speakeasies.”

“Don’t forget the bank robberies.”

“Times are hard and people get desperate.”

“Do you miss that life?”

“Heavens, no! I love being in a small town where everyone knows everyone and there isn’t so much meanness.”

Jack’s laugh was without humor. “That’s Fertile, all right.” “Would you rather live someplace else?”

Jack’s grin was sheepish. “I guess not. What did you do in that big hospital?”

“I worked on the floor for one year and one year in the emergency room. It was a busy place, especially at night. We had knife and gunshot wounds. People to patch up after fights.”

“No time to sneak off in the corner and take a nap, huh?” “Did you read about the Union Station Massacre last June? I was working that day. A team of FBI agents were escorting Frank Nash, a convicted mobster, when the shooting started. Four officers and Nash were killed. Others were wounded and brought to the hospital. One of the gunmen was captured, a man named Adam Richetti. Pretty Boy Floyd escaped.”

“You don’t miss the excitement?”

“Not that kind of excitement.”

They talked for a while about the Thackers and how they would cope if Buddy lost part of his hand and about Doc.

“A good doctor knows his limitations,” April said. “Doc knew that he didn’t have the skill or the equipment needed to save Buddy’s hand. Had there not been the option of bringing him to this hospital, he would have done his best.”

“That’s about all you can ask of a man.”

They were quiet for a while, occupied with their own thoughts. Jack was thinking that April was a very nice girl with a level head on her shoulders. He studied her through half-closed eyes. She was pretty with her shiny, bouncy hair, wide-spaced eyes and her full-lipped, kissable mouth. He wondered why he had no desire to kiss her.

Ruby May.

There was no room in his heart for any other woman. The vision of her dark, laughing eyes, her slender body that fit perfectly against his, arms that wound around his neck and lips as eager as his own floated into his mind. The thought of another man kissing those lips almost tore the heart out of him. He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t loved that sweet girl. When they were younger, he hadn’t known that it was love he’d felt for her. He just wanted to be with her all the time.

Hell, now that I have the marshal job, I’d have something to offer her, if it wasn’t too late.

Jack suddenly became aware that April was looking at him with puckered brows. He would have been surprised had he known that she was thinking that he was a terribly nice man, but he didn’t set her heart fluttering. He had some of Joe’s mannerisms and would make a wonderful friend, but he didn’t have Joe’s personality and playful eyes that spoke of more to come . . . if she dared.

She was brought out of her reverie when Mr. Thacker came through the swinging doors.

The surgeon had had to take off two of Buddy’s fingers and part of his palm. He was able to leave the thumb, the forefinger and second finger. The boy would have to stay in the hospital for at least a week. Mr. Thacker would stay with him for the first few days. He walked with them to the car, thanking them all the way. April got in and looked over her shoulder to see Jack press some bills into the man’s hand.

“We’ll go directly to your house, Berle, and tell Mrs. Thacker. If you need a way back to Fertile, call Doc. Miss As-bury will get ahold of me or Joe. One of us will come get you.”

“That was nice of you to offer to come back and bring him home,” April said as they drove out of town.

“I’m just an all-around nice fellow,” Jack said and grinned. It was two o’clock in the morning when Jack stopped the car in front of the clinic. Doc came off the porch and met them on the sidewalk. April filled him in on Buddy’s condition.

“It’s what I h-hoped for,” Doc said. “He’ll learn to cope with the loss of two f-fingers. I feared he m-might lose them all.”

“You didn’t get a call from Corbin?” Jack asked.

“Oh, yes, and I hurried over there. Annabel has backache, not r-regular pains. Corbin’s as n-nervous as a mouse in a roomful of cats.”