Dorothy Garlock - [Route 66] (20 page)

“Now that you know how to use that thing does it mean that we'll have biscuits every night for supper?”

“No, it does not. Sometimes we'll have cornbread. All you think about is your stomach.” She gave him a quick teasing smile.

He reached out and slid his hand beneath the damp hair on her neck, his fingers gripping gently. She breathed deeply the scent that was his alone. His clear gray eyes moved warmly over her face. He studied her for a long moment, then said softly, “You're wrong, pretty girl. That isn't all I think about.”

His hand suddenly left her neck and he went out the door.
Pretty girl?
He was flirting with her again. She couldn't afford to feel warm and woozy when he touched her. She had to make light of his flattery as she did when Deke called her
his darlin'.

Leona watched him, tall and lanky, stride toward the tank where the girls were splashing in the water. As he picked up the long tin conduit, he said something to them that made both of them shout and try to throw water on him. He jumped out of the way and began moving the conduit to fill the stock tank.

Oh Lord! It will never be the same around here after he's gone.

The sound of a car horn reached Leona. She looked out the window to see a car at the gas pump. Yates called something to the girls as he trotted around the house on the way to the garage. Several days ago he had attached a sign to the gas pump that read: HONK FOR SERVICE. It worked very well. Leona wondered now why she or Andy hadn't thought of it.

When Yates left, Margie took over the chore of pumping water into the conduit after she had helped the girls out of the tank and they had run for the house. For such a small, slender woman, she had strength and stamina. Tears had flooded her eyes when Leona asked her to stay on and help her.

“Thank you,” she had murmured. “I just didn't know what to do.”

“Folks come through here on their way to California all the time. Some nice families have camped here. Someone might agree to take you with them.”

“I won't… do what some of them will want me to.”

“Flitter. I hadn't thought of that. Did Ernie try to force you?”

“He didn't force me, but he was madder than a flitter when I wouldn't do …it. He said … he said I was too skinny to make a good whore anyhow.” Margie's heavy blond hair shielded her face when she lowered it. “Now that I think about it, I don't think he ever intended to take me all the way to California. He knew Grandma had left me money and he wanted it.”

“The dirty low-down polecat. It would serve him right if his darned old motorcycle broke down while he's in the desert and he was ten miles from a drink of water!” Leona said heatedly.

“I'll be a help to you, ma'am. I swear it.” Margie's eyes were wide, and scared, and hoping, when she looked up at Leona.

“No one's ever called me 'ma'am,' Margie. It makes me feel…ancient!” Leona said remembering Yates's teasing words only that morning.

She's as alone in the world as I would be if not for Andy. If he hadn't taken me in years ago, I could be walking in her shoes.

While Leona and Margie were getting supper on the table, Yates went to the living room and listened to Lowell Thomas on the radio talk about the 7,000 war veterans who were camped out in Washington, D.C., demanding a war bonus. With sixteen percent of the country unemployed, and the Great Depression showing no signs of letting up, the men had been desperate enough to march on Washington. So far the government had not been sympathetic to their plight.

Yates listened intently when the commentator announced that Herbert Hoover and Charles Curtis had been re-nominated as the Republican candidates for president and vice president. Although the Democratic convention wasn't until next month, Franklin Roosevelt and his promised “new deal” would be the candidate to run against them if he could beat out his nearest rival, Alfred E. Smith.

The other news that caught his attention was that a federal gasoline tax of one cent per gallon would go into effect next week. That meant that Andy would pay a cent per gallon more when he bought a load of gas and would have to pass the cost on to his customers. Folks on the move were bound to feel the pinch.

Democrats in Chicago were pledging to repeal Prohibition and Lou Gehrig had tied the record with four straight home runs in Philadelphia.

Yates was distracted when JoBeth climbed onto the arm of the chair. He pulled the child over onto his lap.

“Is Margie goin to stay?” she whispered.

“She's going to help your aunt for a while. Is that all right with you?”

“Uh-huh. I like her. Ruth Ann don't.”

“Why not?”

“I donno. She's 'fraid she'll sleep in Daddy's bed.”

“Your daddy wouldn't mind.”

“Ruth Ann don't want her to. She has fleas.”

“Really? If she does, she'd better sleep with Calvin.”

JoBeth giggled. “Calvin sleeps in the garage with you.”

“Sometimes he sleeps under the porch.”

“We listened to Orphan Annie today.”

“That so? How are Annie and Sandy?”

“I wanted to name our dog Sandy, but he was already named Calvin.”

“Calvin's a good name for a dog.”

“I like you.”

“I like you, too.”

“We're ready to eat now,” Leona called. “JoBeth, wash your hands.”

Yates lifted the child off his lap, but not before he gave her a hug. Damn, it was like nothing he'd ever known before to have a trusting little tyke climb up onto his lap, put her head on his shoulder, giggle and talk to him.

They had just finished eating when they heard the sound of a motorcycle coming into the yard between the house and the garage. Margie was suddenly as alert as a bird with a nest full of eggs and a bluejay circling overhead.

Leona peered out the window. “It's Deke.” She waited until he turned off the noisy machine, then called, “Come on in, Deke.”

The front screen door slammed, then boot heels sounded on the wooden floor. Deke came into the kitchen, his eyes seeking Leona.

“How's my darlin'?”

“Hello, Deke. Come sit down. We're having peach cobbler.”

“Why, thanky darlin', I will. Ya make the best cobbler in Beckham County, bar none.” Deke tossed his hat on the floor beside the door.

“ 'Lo, Mr. Bales,” JoBeth said.

“Hello, sugarfoot,” he replied, then his eyes found Margie. He rocked back on his heels and looked at her. “Hello, ma'am. You …you were with—Did that son-of-a—, that bast—,” he sputtered, looked quickly at Leona, then said, “Did that stinkin pile of horse manure run off and leave ya here?”

Margie's face turned a fiery red. Her pleading eyes looked at Leona for help.

“Margie is staying with us for a while, Deke. She's going to help me with the canning.”

“You're better off without that smartmouth sucker, sugar. I thought I'd have to whip his hind-end last night when he came up to the garage a-lippin' off. It didn't take long to take his measure and he come up short.” Deke took the vacant chair at the end of the table. Completely at home, he reached over to ruffle JoBeth's hair. “How's my girl?”

“Aunt Lee's your girl.”

“Yeah she is, but I can have two girls.”

Yates felt an emotion he'd seldom felt before. A fierce flood of jealousy washed over him. Shit-fire! He didn't like feeling the outsider. Deke, the homely little weasel, was comfortable with himself and with Leona and the girls and had known them a lot longer than he had.

Watching Leona, he felt a sudden surge of possessiveness. She and the girls were his responsibility. He was here taking care of them, not Deke. He wanted her to be his and only his. And he wanted her to want him. Desperately, he wanted that. He was tired of being alone. The thought hit him like a whirlwind.

Leona was laughing when she placed a dish of cobbler in front of Deke. The little man with the dish-shaped face thanked her, called her his “darlin'” and patted her affectionately on the behind when she turned away.

Yates wanted to kill him.

Chapter 17

D
EKE WAITED UNTIL HE AND YATES WERE SEATED
on the bench beside the garage before he told him the main reason he had come out here tonight

“My mama heard at the church that Virgil is going to try and take the girls while Andy is in the hospital. He's got next to Deputy Ham, which ain't hard to do. The pot-bellied hog ain't got the sense God gave a flea. It's a wonder somebody hasn't let a little of the wind out of him with a pig-sticker.”

Yates swore. “Because of me being here?”

“That and that this ain't a proper home for 'em. It wasn't proper when Andy was here with Leona as housekeeper, but it's downright indecent, they're sayin, for the housekeeper to be livin here in sin with another man.”

“Hell, I'm not living with them. I live here in the garage and take meals with them.”

“I know that. I know Leona. Known her since I was in the fourth grade. She's straight as a string.”

“Gawddammit,” Yates swore.

“Virgil's tellin' folks that you and Leona are tighter than bark on a tree. You're payin' her bills at White's store, buyin' her a cook oven and a tub to bathe in. He said there ain't no tellin' what all is goin' on out here nights when fellers come in off the road and stop at the campground. He's makin' it sound like she's runnin' a regular whorehouse.”

Yates swore long and viciously.

“He's got folks stirred up. Tell ya, Yates. Virgil gets his hands on those girls it'll be hell gettin' them back.”

“I'm going to have to bust Virgil's head. I should've ruined that bastard's nuts when I had the chance. He's rotten mean to the bone.”

“Speakin' of the rotten, mean to the bone, son-of-abitch,” Deke said dryly. “That's him with the deputy.”

The car that came around the garage and stopped beside the porch was an old topless touring car that had seen better days. The driver wore a white Stetson. Virgil, beside him, was hatless. The deputy, a man with rather short legs, a long body and longer arms, got unhurriedly out of the car when neither Deke nor Yates moved off the bench. Nor did they call out a greeting.

Yates kept his eyes on Virgil, who came around the end of the car and stood leaning against it with his arms folded across his thin chest.

“Howdy.” The portly deputy's belt buckle was below his protruding belly. His fat jaws quivered when he spoke. He stared at Yates when he spoke but it was Deke who replied.

“Howdy yoreself, Wayne.”

“I'm Deputy Ham.” The man's voice was belligerent, his small, squinted eyes still on Yates. He puffed out his chest displaying the large tin star pinned to his shirt.

“Yeah?” Yates bent his leg, rested the heel of one boot on the edge of the bench and wrapped an arm around his leg. “I thought sure you were a salesman for the Star ass-wipe company,” he drawled. “They put out a pretty good roll of paper. Never had a finger go through a sheet yet.”

The deputy's face reddened. Deke did a poor job of stifling a giggle.

“Trashy-talkin' drifter. Just like I heard ya was.”

“Last I heard trash-talking wasn't against the law. What are you doing here?”

Deputy Ham rocked back on his boot heels. “Ya'lI not be so smart-mouthed sittin in my jail.”

“If you're thinking of arresting me, you'd better have a damn good reason.”

“Oh, I have one. Yore attack on Mr. Dawson who came out to visit with his sister. I have a witness.”

“Ah …horsecock, Wayne.” Deke snorted. “You know that Abe Patton'd swear that black was white and shit didn't stink if Virgil told him to.”

“I'm not talkin' to ya, Deke. Shut yore mouth.”

The screendoor slammed. Leona came out onto the porch. Yates hoped that she would stay there, but didn't have much hope that she would. His patience at an end, he stood and towered over the deputy.

“I didn't hurt him as much as I wanted to. If he'd hit his sister like he was going to, you'd have been scraping him up off the ground.”

“Ya interfered in a family matter that was no business of yours.”

“Damn right I interfered. I'll do it again, only next time he'll leave here with his ass up between his shoulders and his head screwed on backwards. Maybe you'd better explain that to him just in case he doesn't understand.”

“Is that a threat?”

“What do you think?”

“Where'er ya from, mister?”

“Here and there.”

“Drifter. Just like I thought. Leona,” Deputy Ham yelled. “Get out here.”

Leona came down the path and stood beside Yates and glared at Virgil.

“I've known ya a long time, Leona. It's my duty—”

“Yore duty?” Deke let out a whoop of laughter. “Yore duty is what's decided at the prayer meetin'. Ain't that right, Wayne? Ever'body knows you kowtow to that bunch of dumb-asses who think women were put here for the use of man and little kids to kick and beat.”

Red-faced, the deputy shook his finger at Deke. “Yo're goin' to lip off once too often, and that rich Indian ya work for is goin' to have to find somebody else to tinker with his machines. 'Cause you'll be in my jail.”

“ Your
jail, Wayne?” Deke sneered. “Hell fire. I didn't know you'd bought it. I thought it still belonged to Beckham County.”

“You're on the edge, Deke. On the edge,” the deputy shouted.

“You're a real horse's patoot, Virgil.” Her voice was as sharp as the crack of a whip. The smirk of satisfaction on his face stirred the anger in Leona. “I'm glad Mama and Papa aren't here to see that you've gotten so low you'd have to take off your hat to crawl under a snake's belly, and that you're meaner than a cornered cat and got the brains of a pissant. It's the shame of my life to be related to you.”

“Hush your mouth!” Virgil lurched forward to stand beside the deputy. “See how she talks, Wayne? She ain't fit to raise little orphan children. They ain't been to church in a month.”

“They've got a father. They're not orphans, you stupid toad. I suppose you're fit to raise them? You beat your kids, cram religion and fear down their throats until the little things are so cowed they can't look a person in the eye.” Leona finished with a sneer.

“My kids are God-fearin' kids,” he shouted. “Yo're goin' to take Abe for yore man. Yo're the shame of the county, is what ya are.” He was so angry, his Adam's apple was jumping up and down and he was rocking back and forth on his heels and toes.