Read Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers] Online
Authors: With Hope
Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers] (31 page)
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“Daddy.” Jay looked up at Johnny, his mouth drawn down as if he were about to cry. Johnny looked helplessly at Henry Ann. She went to him and knelt. Jay immediately put his arms around her neck. She stood and then sat down with the child on her lap.
“Your daddy’s all right. I bet he’s looking out the door right now and thinking about his little boy. If it storms, he’s got a cellar to go to just as we have here.”
By the time supper was over, the wind and hail clouds had gone, but the rain clouds remained. Rain came down steadily. Johnny turned on the radio so that Aunt Dozie could hear her favorite show,
Amos and Andy.
The set crackled and popped, making listening impossible. Later they tried to listen to Ed Wynn, the Texaco Fire Chief, but had to give that up, too, because of the static.
Amos and Andy.
The set crackled and popped, making listening impossible. Later they tried to listen to Ed Wynn, the Texaco Fire Chief, but had to give that up, too, because of the static.
“Too much electricity in the air. I guess we’ll have to listen to Grant sing.” Johnny flipped off the radio.
“You could plug up your ears,” Grant retorted, picking up the guitar and strumming a few chords.
“Go ahead and sing, Grant. All Johnny can do is whistle and yodel,” Henry Ann teased.
“Who says I can’t sing?” Johnny stretched his long legs out in front of him and leaned his head back against the wall.
“Admit it. You can’t carry a tune in a bucket.” Grant winked at Henry Ann.
“I can too. I just don’t want to get Gene Autry worried I’ll knock him off the radio and outta a job.”
“Give us a sample,” Henry Ann urged.
“Arm in arm over meadow and farm,
walkin’ my baby back home,
Cows go by and — da, da—”
Grant snorted. “That’s enough to make a dog sick. He doesn’t even know the words. You’d better stick to
‘
Home on the Range,’ cowboy.”
‘
Home on the Range,’ cowboy.”
A heavy knock on the back door caused a sudden quiet. Johnny glanced at Henry Ann and got up. Grant stood the guitar against the wall and followed him. Henry Ann carried the child sleeping on her lap to the bedroom, placed him on the bed, and hurried to the kitchen. Aunt Dozie hovered in the doorway. It was an unusual event to have a caller this time of night.
Johnny and Grant were on the back porch when Henry Ann reached the kitchen. She heard Tom’s voice. It had a worried tone. Her heart jumped out of rhythm, then began to beat rapidly.
“I hate to ask you to come out in this weather, but I’ve looked all over for her. She’s been gone since early afternoon. She usually comes home before dark—”
Tom held a lantern. Water dripped off an old felt hat on his head. He was wearing a slicker that came only to his hips. His pant legs and boots were covered with mud. Henry Ann stayed back away from the door, her eyes drinking in the sight of him.
“I’ll get my boots and a slicker,” Johnny said. He took the garment from the peg beside the door. “Here, Grant, take this slicker, and I’ll get another.”
“There’s another lantern in the barn.” Grant threw the slicker over his head and stepped out into the pelting rain.
With Tom standing alone on the porch, Henry Ann couldn’t resist slipping out the door for a brief minute alone with him.
“This is a bad night to be out. Does she do this often?” Her voice had a nervous tremor.
Tom took a step nearer to her, then stopped. His eyes swept over her face like loving fingers.
“She runs off, but I can usually find her.”
“Where does she go?”
“Into the woods. She’s made a little place and takes things there. It’s almost like a child’s playhouse. She wasn’t there—Are you all right?”
“Sure. I’m fine. Jay’s fine, too.
“I saw you pass by today—with Johnny.”
“Two more of our steers were butchered. I went with him to Mud Creek.”
“You shouldn’t’ve!”
“It went all right. Nothing to worry about.”
“My whole herd could be rustled, and I’d not know it. I’ve been so busy keeping an eye on Emmajean.”
“Jay asked about you tonight. He was worried you might be out in the storm.”
“Ah . . . hell! I’ve missed him. And . . . you—”
Johnny came out of the house with the lantern usually kept in the kitchen.
“I’ll saddle my horse, Tom.” He took off on a run for the barn. Grant came to the porch. The lantern he carried emitted a faint light.
“Tell us where you’ve been and where you want us to go.”
“I’ve been up and down the creek bank. Maybe you and I should spread out and go through the pasture. Johnny could search the lower woods. If you find her, whistle two long and one short.”
“Would she have gone to town?”
“She’s never gone that way. Good Lord. I never thought about her doing that. If we don’t find her soon, I’ll take the car and go there.”
“The road’ll be muddy as hell by now. Johnny could make it on his horse.”
“Let’s try the woods first.”
Henry Ann stood on the porch and watched as Tom and Grant disappeared. Their voices reached her when Johnny, on horseback, joined them. Then they were gone.
“Dat woman goin’ to come to a bad end a roamin’ ’round like she does.”
“You’d think that she’d go home when it started to rain.”
“Dat man got him a heap of trouble.” Dozie’s large, expressive eyes turned to Henry Ann. “Honey, yo be mindful to remember dat man got him a wife, crazy as she be, de law say she his wife.”
“I’ve not forgotten.”
“I got me a feelin’ dat her’ll end up bad.”
“I think I’ll sit on the porch for a while. Go on to bed, Aunt Dozie. I’ll wait for Johnny and Grant.”
“I be sayin’ my prayers for dat po’ woman.”
“You should say a few for the man who’s trying to look after her.”
“I do dat, too, child.”
Henry Ann took a chair from the kitchen to the back porch and sat down. The rain had let up and was now a steady drizzle. The darkness was tomblike, and only the drip, drip, of raindrops falling from the porch eave intruded upon the stillness. She tried to imagine how it would feel to be lost out in the rain. Perhaps Mrs. Dolan wasn’t lost. Perhaps she was hiding somewhere and didn’t want to be found.
What a cruel joke to play on Tom.
What a cruel joke to play on Tom.
* * *
Johnny pulled his battered old hat low on his forehead to protect his face from the water shaken from the trees as each gust of wind passed through them. It was dark here in the woods. Every once in a while he would stop, hold the lantern high, and call out.
“Em . . . ma. Em . . . ma . . . jean—”
The quiet was absolute. Not a coyote or an owl was on the prowl tonight.
As the horse picked its way among the trees and over deadfalls, Johnny’s eyes tried to penetrate the darkness beyond the small circle of light provided by the lantern. The area was overgrown with post oak brush and bull nettles. A woman on foot would get tangled up pretty quickly. He searched his memory for a place where she could hide, if she was hiding, or a place where she might crawl in to wait out the storm.
The only place that came to mind was down where this wooded patch joined that of the Austins. Several months earlier he and Pete had ridden by an old three-sided shed that had been used to store water barrels. It had been abandoned when the well nearby went dry.
“I had me a red-hot time here four or five summers ago. I used to meet a gal here,” Pete had bragged. “After I cleared out the rattlers, we’d have us a party that’d curl even yore hair, chief. That gal was hotter’n a fake fifty-dollar bill. She could turn me inside out. Wow!” He had laughed and slapped his thigh with his palm. “I used to wonder how long her old man’d last if he didn’t have me to take the edge off’n her cravin’ for poontang. She was something.”
“Did he ever catch you?”
“Naw. They moved over to Ringling.” Pete had laughed again. “She’s got a couple kids now, and I heard she was ’bout to pop out another’n. She’s still givin’ it to somebody.”
Pete liked to boast. Johnny believed only half his stories. He was glad he’d told him this one or he’d not have remembered the shed. It was quite a ways from the Dolan farm and unlikely the woman would have found it, but he decided to take a look anyway.
Johnny turned his horse around and slowly made his way out of the nettle patch and headed for a thick stand of cottonwood trees with a few pecan trees scattered among them. One thing was sure, Johnny thought as nettles grabbed at his pant legs, Mrs. Dolan wouldn’t have made it out of that patch on foot in the dark.
The rain had turned into a fine mist by the time he reached the shed. He approached it from the side and called out while holding the lantern high.
“Em . . . ma. Emma . . . jean.”
“I hate you!” The voice came from inside the shed.
Johnny moved his horse around to the front and held the lantern under the sagging roof so he could see inside. She was snuggled down in a corner, her knees drawn up under her chin, her arms wrapped around her legs.
“Mrs. Dolan?”
“You said you’d come back.”
“Mrs. Dolan, I’m Johnny Henry. Your husband is looking for you.”
“I waited and waited. I tried to go home . . . but—I don’t like you anymore!” she yelled. Her wet dress was plastered to her body, her wet hair stuck to her cheeks. She had been in the nettles. Her arms had bloody scratches and there were tears in her dress.
Johnny got off his horse and set the lantern on the ground.
“I’ll take you home.”
“I want to stay here.”
“You can’t. You need to get home and out of those wet clothes.
“Stay here with me.”
“Come on, get up—”
“I’ll take off my dress.”
“No, don’t do that,” Johnny said quickly. He didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t making sense.
“You said my titties were pretty.” She looked at him as if she was about to cry. “I did what you told me. Why are you being mean?”
“Mrs. Dolan, I’m . . . not the one that was here. I’m Johnny Henry.”
“I don’t care.” She pulled her bodice apart exposing her breasts.
“Don’t do that. Come on, get up.” He pulled on her hand. She stood; and before he knew it, her arms were wrapped around him. “Hey, now, stop that.”
“Don’t you want to do it some more?” She leaned back, looked into his face, and rubbed her groin against his. “I’ll let you do it the other way, if you’re nice.”
“Lady, you’ve got me mixed up with someone else.” Johnny shrugged out of his slicker and put it around her. “Put your arms in the sleeves,” he ordered in a no-nonsense tone, and she obeyed. He realized that he couldn’t handle her and the lantern, so he put out the flame and set it in the back of the shed to pick up later.
“Are we going to town?”
He lifted her up onto the saddle telling her to hold on to the pommel, then jumped up onto the rear of the horse. Not understanding the double weight, the horse danced nervously.
“Steady, steady—” Johnny talked soothingly to the animal until he settled down. Then he put his arms around Emmajean to hold her in the saddle, and they moved away from the shed.
Presently, Emmajean, sitting sideways on the saddle, wrapped her arms around Johnny and snuggled close. He tried to concentrate on where they were going and keeping both of them from sliding off the horse. She kept nibbling at his neck.
“You oughtn’t to do that, Mrs. Dolan.” He tried to move back from her but there was nowhere to go. “Who was with you in the shed?”
“A man.”
“What man?”
“I like you better. You won’t slap me, will you?”
“Did the man slap you?”
“Uh-huh. I pulled my dress up. He told me to take it off. I did, and he pinched my titties, slapped my butt, and put his thing in me. He slapped me when I wouldn’t let him put it in the other place.”
Johnny was so shocked, he stuttered when he asked:
“Wh . . . at was . . . his name?”
“I don’t know.”
Good Lord! Poor Tom. She’s loony as a bedbug. What’ll he ever do with her?
“Have you . . . ah . . . met this man before?”
“Down at . . . the place I go sometimes. He was nice then.”
“Was his name Pete?”
“I don’t know.”
They reached the pasture behind the Henry farm. Johnny put two fingers to his lips and whistled. He waited a bit then whistled again. The answering call came, and Johnny trotted his horse toward the faint glow of light at the edge of the woods, anxious to turn this confused woman over to her husband.
* * *
The rain now was no more than a mist, but in the southwest the lightning continued to flash. The clock struck midnight. Shortly after, Shep, lying beside Henry Ann’s chair, rose up with a low growl.
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