Runabout (33 page)

}Haywood doffed his hat at Tulsa May. "You're looking right-out pretty these days, missy. And a good evening to you both."

}Tulsa May smiled back politely, but her heart was still racing and her stomach churned with anxiety. She knew Luther so well, and she sensed his distress.

}Pulling out the throttle a little more than necessary as she pulled away from the curb, the Runabout sputtered and backfired loudly. They rode in silence once more, but this time it was not uncomfortable; there was a sense of mutual understanding between them.

}"Luther?" Tulsa May whispered as they raced down the street to the parsonage. "What will we do?"

}"Don't worry, I'll think of something," he quickly assured both her and himself. "I've watched after and taken care of Arthel all my life. I promised Mammy and Pa. I won't fail him now. I can't."

}Tulsa May nodded in agreement, but she couldn't swallow the knot of fear that settled in her throat. "And I won't fail you," she whispered.

}At least half a dozen angry men, including the mayor, the deacons of the church, and the preacher, stood on or around the preacher's porch as Tulsa May and Luther drew up. Titus Penny was easily recognizable for the bright redness of his face and the anger that puffed out of his cheeks. Every face turned to stare at them as Tulsa May pulled the Runabout up into the little drive beside the house.

}"Where is that brother of yours?" Penny called out to Luther before Tulsa May could even get the car stopped.

}Luther's face was pale with worry and the aftermath of his fight, but he forced a welcoming smile to his lips. "Why, he's home tonight," Luther answered calmly.

}Casually, he stepped down from the Runabout and turned chivalrously to help Tulsa May do the same.

}"What happened to your face?" Ross Crenshaw asked as the couple moved closer to the lighted porch.

}"A breather fell on me when I was beneath a car," he answered.

}"A breather do that much damage?"

}"It was a heavy breather," Luther assured him.

}"I asked you about your brother." Titus Penny's growl was low and dangerous.

}"I told you he's at home, Titus. I worked him so hard today, he said he was going straight to bed."

}"He's not there," Fasel Auslander said, looking angry and indignant. "Rossie and I were already over to your place. There's not a soul at home."

}"Oh?" Luther tried another tack, but his head was throbbing badly. "Perhaps he's down working on my new building on Main Street. You folks aren't the only ones in town who have ideas for that place."

}"Working on the building at night?" Even the reverend appeared skeptical.

}"What's this all about?" Tulsa May asked. She knew Luther was still recovering from his fight. He really should be home in bed instead of creating stories. Besides, she simply wanted to hear the worst and face it. And help him face it. "Do you need Arthel for something?" Her expression was sincere and innocent enough that even Luther momentarily believed her confusion.

}The men on the porch glanced at each other. This was not a subject to be discussed in front of ladies, especially not young, unmarried ones. All were far too embarrassed to speak up. Keenly aware that his innocent daughter should not be touched by this latest Briggs scandal, Reverend Bruder was about to order her upstairs to her room, when Erwin Willers spoke up. As the publisher of the
Populist
he was accustomed to speaking frankly with Tulsa May; it didn't occur to him to clean up the story for a young lady's ears. "Got a scandal brewing," he told her with the typical enthusiasm of a newspaperman. "These fellows seem to think that young Briggs is involved."

}"My Maybelle's missing!" Titus Penny declared with fury. His anxiety was clearly overwhelming his sense of propriety. "And Ebner Wyse said he saw an Indian boy forcing himself on a woman at the Sparrow cottage."

}Luther's mouth dropped open in bona fide shock.
Forcing?
Was Titus Penny going to say Arthel
forced
himself on Maybelle? It wasn't true. Arthel might be foolish and wrongheaded sometimes, but he was neither violent nor cruel. But would they all believe the worst?

}"Now, Titus." Mr. Wyse said. "I didn't say exactly
force."
Ebner was somewhat embarrassed. "I mean, the gal were laughing and giggling like she weren't too much agin it."

}Penny's face reddened and his jaw hardened with anger.

}"Force or no force," Clyde Avery stated determinedly, "we cannot allow our young people to act immorally within the city limits. We are a decent, civilized, moral community."

}"Oh, for heaven's sake, Clyde," the preacher chided. "Trust you to worry more about the reputation of the community than the souls of two of our young people."

}"The preacher's right," Ross Crenshaw said. "Young Arthel is to be pitied. Why, the boy had practically no upbringing at all. Just a brother who had not much better rearing himself."

}Tulsa May gasped at the insult. Luther saw red. "My brother is as moral and upright as any of your rowdy brood of jut-swilling whiners! If Ebner didn't
see
my brother, then it
wasn't
my brother." Luther was struggling for the right words. "All he saw was an Indian. Do I have to point out the percentage of the population of this state that fits that description?"

}"But," Ross insisted. "There aren't many Indians that spend their time around this area of town."

}Faces were stiff with temper. Voices were raised in anger. Tulsa May feared that things were close to getting out of control. She'd already seen the results of that once tonight, she didn't want to witness it again.

}"Where did you say it was?" she asked quietly.

}"At the Sparrows' honeymoon cottage," Ebner answered. "Right out in the open under that big pecan tree."

}Tulsa May let out a strange little giggle that startled the men into total silence. As they stared at her, she grasped Luther's hand and brought it up to her cheek. He looked at her as if she'd lost her mind.

}"I guess we'd better confess, honey," she said, wrapping her arm through his. "That wasn't Arthel and Maybelle out under that pecan tree." Again she giggled. It was an unnatural sound. "It was me and Luther."

}"What!"

}The chorus of shocked men included Luther himself, but fortunately no one noticed.

}"I... I..." The Reverend Binder's face turned white as a sheet and then bloomed into fiery red.

}The sight of his anger frightened Tulsa May, but she knew she had to protect Arthel. "Papa, please, you look positively apoplectic," she said anxiously.

}The preacher's eyes were bulging and he seemed unable to speak. The townsmen were staring at the couple in total horror.

}Luther felt the sweat seeping down the back of his collar. He glanced over at Tulsy. She was pale now too, watching her father struggle for breath and self-control. Surely they couldn't believe this of her! Luther was aghast. How could anyone imagine that Tulsa May Bruder would fornicate on the ground with any man, let alone a man who was not her husband. He couldn't let them think of her that way.

}"We're married," he blurted out.

}"Married?" The chorus of voices once again sounded stunned.

}"Ah ... yes ... we're married." He grabbed Tulsa May's hand and squeezed it, hoping to both give and get strength. "That's why we're home so late, Rev," he said. "We went to Guthrie and got ourselves hitched."

}The reverend continued to stare at them for a moment in disbelief. Then, as if his strength had suddenly failed him, he sat down on the porch step.

}"Married?"

}"Yes, Papa." Tulsa May hurried up to the steps and squatted down in front of him. "I'm sorry we gave you such a scare. But we're married." She glanced back at Luther with a worried expression. "I love him, Papa," she said. "I want you to be happy for me."

}"Happy?" The preacher continued to look at her almost without comprehension. The men around them began to mumble in surprise, but the preacher ignored the sounds. "Why would you run off and get married like that?" he asked.

}Tulsa May was momentarily stuck for a reply. She glanced again at Luther. Ebner Wyse was patting him on the back and offering congratulations.

}"Well, we ... I..." She stumbled for words. "You know how Mama is," she said finally. "She would have wanted to have another big to-do with paper lanterns and bridal gowns and everything. I couldn't go through that again, Papa. Luther and I just wanted to get married."

}The preacher nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, that's your mother all right." Still he looked puzzled; he lowered his voice to a near whisper to ask the next question. "But daughter, what on earth were you doing at the Sparrows' cottage?"

}Tulsa May looked toward Luther for help, but he appeared to be as dumbfounded as she was. She looked back into her father's loving, trusting eyes.

}"Honeymoon?" she answered.

}

}By the time Doc Odie and Emma returned to the dirty little room over the stockyards' office, Blue Turley was sitting up at the side of the bed.

}"You bitch!" he screamed at her as she walked in behind the doctor.

}Emma froze in place; fear was still coursing through her veins. Her bottom lip trembled, but she was far too alarmed at her own actions to cry.

}Turley moaned then from the pain in his head. He lay back on the bed. "What did you hit me with?" he asked through clenched teeth.

}"Bootjack," she answered quietly.

}Doc Odie spied the bloodied weapon on the grimy pine floor and picked it up and handed it to Turley.

}The cowboy gave a vivid curse and threw the bootjack toward the wash-stand. It hit the wall, shattering the dingy mirror that hung there, before dropping into the tepid water in the basin.

}"Miss Emma, if you'd wait outside," Doc Odie said with gentlemanly courtesy. He escorted her to the door with a smile of reassurance before turning back to the cowboy on the bed.

}"Let's see your head, young man."

}Odie didn't like the way the fellow looked at Emma, much less the way he talked to her. But he was a doctor and tending the sick and injured, regardless of his personal feelings, was a part of his vow of service. He didn't, however, vow to be kind and sympathetic to any patients who'd gotten exactly what they deserved.

}Emma had given a less than complete accounting of what she'd been doing in this room, and why she'd been forced to strike the man. Out of breath and clearly terrified, she had burst into his study, too winded to do much more than beg him to get his bag. He'd hitched up his rig in record time as Miss Emma regained her composure. Still, on the ride over, she had not been very forthcoming about the details. But Doc Odie was not born yesterday and had a pretty good idea of what had happened.

}"Ouch!" Turley complained as the doctor probed his wound without much gentleness. "You're hurting me!"

}The doctor gave him a wide-eyed look. "I thought big, tough cowboys didn't feel pain. Do you want a bullet to bite on?"

}Turley didn't answer, but he sullenly seethed.

}"How did this happen?" the doctor asked coolly.

}"Didn't the bitch tell you?"

}Doc Odie's hands stilled on the blood-matted hair of his patient, but he resisted the desire to strike the fellow. "I haven't seen any bitches lately," he answered coldly as again he probed the wound. "It was Miss Emma who was concerned enough about your injuries to fetch me."

}"Miss Emma?" Turley spoke her name with distinct insinuation and then spit on the floor. "That bitch could have killed me."