Song of the Road (27 page)

He eased her down on the porch step and sat down close to her. With his arm around her he pulled her close while he stroked her rounded belly.

“Did you love him?” he whispered, his lips in her hair. She didn’t ask who he meant. She knew he wanted to know about Bobby, her husband.

“I cared about him, felt sorry for him. I didn’t love him like I’ve seen in the movies or read about in books.”

“Was he good to you? Did he hurt you?”

“He . . . hurt me only one time.”

“The son of a bitch!” The curse came in the form of a hissed whisper.

“He died shortly after that.”

“Did you like what he did . . . to make you pregnant?” His hand stroked her hair; his lips moved around to her forehead.

“Oh, Jake . . .”

“Did you?” he insisted.

“I knew nothing about . . . what happens between a man and a woman.”

“I wish this baby was mine.” His voice rose to a fervent whisper.

“I don’t feel like the baby is Bobby’s. He wouldn’t have wanted it. Poor little thing. It’ll only have me and I’ll love it. I know how it feels not to be wanted.”

“You’re wanted,
querida.
” He tilted her chin and kissed her sweetly, tenderly on the lips. It never occurred to her to turn away.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why not? You like me a little, don’t you?”

“I like you a lot, Jake. But look at me.”

“I’m looking.” His big, rough hand cupped her cheek and held her head against his shoulder. He lowered his face and gently rubbed his nose with hers.

“You see a woman with a shape like a watermelon, rough hands, sunbaked skin and a load of trouble.”

“I see a pretty, sweet, spunky little mother with more guts than sense. If I had the world, I’d offer it to her.”

“A lot of girls would love to have you . . . come calling. Don’t you want a home? A family?” She wondered if he could feel her heart pounding.

“More than anything in the world,” he whispered huskily, and kissed her again. His lips were warm and soft and gentle against hers. She felt cherished, protected, and wished she could stay in his arms forever.

“You’ll have them someday. I hope you’ll be happy.”

“I’m a jailbird,
querida.
I’ll be labeled a jailbird for the rest of my life. If I had any sense, I’d stay away from you so the stink won’t rub off on you.”

Mary Lee lifted her palm to his cheek. “It wasn’t right that they put you in prison. I don’t like to think of you in that place.”

“It seems a lifetime ago that I sat here on this porch while a pretty little girl cried over me and watched her pa treat my sore feet.”

“It does seem a long time ago. Tell me about yourself, Jake. Tell me about your mother and your father if you remember him . . .”

It was a night that neither of them would forget. Although no declaration of love was made, they shared a closeness, one neither had ever experienced with another human being, and it was precious to both of them.

He sat with his back to the porch post, with Mary Lee nestled close against him. He spoke in low, even tones while he told her about living on the Clawson ranch and about visiting his mother’s people in the mountain villages. After his mother died, he had stayed on at Clawson’s for a while, then worked on nearby ranches and in Oklahoma and Texas. His love for horses made him a good trainer.

“Nothing gets my dander up quicker than to see a horse mistreated. It’s one of the reasons I left Clawson’s.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“I’ve never seen Ocie mistreat an animal, but some of his men do when he’s not around.”

Jake skipped over the years he’d spent in the penitentiary. He shared his fear of heights and how he had to steel himself to climb the girders at the bridge site.

“Why did you do it?”

“For the money. I’m going to get my land back and raise horses. A few steers too, to help pay the bills.”

“Why doesn’t Mr. Clawson like you?”

“It started a long time ago. There was always competition between me and Bobby. Ocie would have liked for Bobby to outdo me, but Bobby wasn’t as tough as I was. He’d had it soft all his life, while I’d been working since I was eight years old. I was a better rider, roper and all-around hand than Bobby. It made Bobby hate me and Ocie too, I guess.”

“It wasn’t fair.”

“Many things in life are not fair,
querida.
A man has to play the hand he’s dealt.”

“Jake? I don’t want you to get the idea that because I’m sitting here with you like this that . . . I’m a fast woman.” Her hand plucked at the buttons on his shirt.

“Why in hell would I think that?” he growled, and tilted her chin so he could look into her face.

“You must know that a woman in my condition . . . doesn’t act like this.”

“Like what?”

“Well . . . I shouldn’t have let you kiss me.”

“Why not?”

She moved away from him and said irritably, “You only ask questions. I can’t answer them all.”

“Didn’t you want me to kiss you?”

“Yes, dammit, I did. Are you satisfied?”

“I’m not only satisfied, I’m happy as a drunk hoot-owl!”

He reached for her, pulled her to him and hugged her, then fitted his mouth to hers and kissed her as if he were dying of thirst.

When she could get her breath, she gasped. “Oh, Jake. This is crazy.” Then she slipped her arm around his neck.

The next day Mary Lee lived in a glow of happiness up until the time Frank Pierce was let out on the highway and walked up to the motor court. Dolly came out of the cabin and for a moment clung weakly to the door. She was not steady on her feet, and reeled drunkenly when she went to meet him. She was wearing her most revealing dress. Her thin, wiry hair had been frizzed with the curling iron, and round spots of rouge were bright on her sunken cheeks. Her lips were scarlet.

Mary Lee felt pity for her mother and embarrassment that she would display herself in such a fashion. She was also glad that Jake and Deke were not here to see her. Having Eli and Trudy stare at her was bad enough.

Frank walked carefully. His eyes were mean and searching the house as he passed it. Mary Lee stayed beside the window, where he couldn’t see her.

“Frank!” Dolly screeched. “I’m so glad you’re home.” Frank grunted and followed her into the cabin.

That was the last she saw of her mother until near supper-time. She came to the house and took food from the cupboard and the icebox, then went back to the cabin. She never spoke, and appeared to be weak. She paused every so often to hold on to the back of a chair.

It was late when Jake and Deke drove in. Trudy had gone home, disappointed, Mary Lee was sure, that she’d had to leave before Deke came back. Eli had teased her about Deke’s insisting that he sit beside her at the picture show and the fact that he had to sit on the other side of Deke.

“Then on the walk to her house, Mary Lee, they just talked to each other and acted like I wasn’t even there,” Eli reported.

“We did no such thing,” Trudy was quick to say. “You kept pushing me against him.”

“I was tryin’ to help you out.”

“I didn’t need any help, thank you.”

The bantering between them had gone on all day. Mary Lee had thoughts of her own to keep her mind occupied. She had not gone into the house until Eli and Deke returned. Sleep had not come at once. Her mind had been busy with what had occurred between her and Jake. This morning he and Deke had come for breakfast; and when he left, he had placed his hand on her shoulder in passing.

“Thanks,” he had said. “See you all tonight.”

The cabins were filled except for one when Jake’s truck came by the house and stopped at his cabin. Later he and Deke passed by as they walked to town. They stopped and said a few words to Eli. Mary Lee kept out of sight.

After the last cabin was rented and the Vacancy light turned off, Eli went to Jake’s cabin to listen to the radio. Mary Lee went to her room, latched the doors and lay down on the bed.

“He didn’t say anything about being in love with me. I know he is concerned about us, baby,” she said silently to her unborn child. “That isn’t the same as love.”

Perhaps he had just wanted to pass a few pleasant hours hugging and kissing her. Bobby had been content just to do that until she told him that she was leaving Cross Roads. Then he had confessed his “undying love” for her, and she had been foolish enough to believe it.

Mary Lee undressed and went to bed. She lay for a long time listening to the cars pass on the highway until their song lulled her to sleep.

Chapter 19

I
F THE DAY SHE HEARD THAT HER FATHER HAD DIED
was the worst day of her life, this day was to be the second.

She and Trudy served breakfast as usual. Jake and Deke waited until there was room at the table before they came in to eat. Jake was quiet, his green eyes missing nothing, as he listened to Deke tease Trudy and to her sassing him back.

“How about goin’ for a ride on the cycle tonight, darlin’?” Deke said when he and Jake were ready to leave. “We’ll ride out into the hills where it’s good and dark, find us a grassy spot and neck.”

Trudy’s mouth dropped open, but no words came out. Finally she said, “Are you talkin’ to me?”

“I sure ain’t talkin’ to Mary Lee. I ain’t wantin’ this big gallot to squash me like a bug for flirtin’ with his girl. How about it, darlin’?”

“Well . . . I guess I’ll go for the ride part. But I’m not neckin’ with you, buster.”

Mary Lee had never seen her friend so flustered. Her face was rosy; her hands tightly gripped the back of the chair in front of her.

“Better not be sayin’ somethin’ you’ll have to take back, sugarfoot.” Deke snatched his hat up off the floor where he’d dropped it when he came in.

“Come on, jellybean. You can flirt with Trudy tonight.” Jake’s eyes caught Mary Lee’s with a wink of conspiracy. She returned his smile.

After they left, Trudy sank down in the chair. Mary Lee was glad Eli wasn’t there to tease her.

“Does he think that I’m the kind of girl who will go out in the dark and . . . you know?”

“I think he was as nervous about asking you as you were about accepting. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Jake would have put the kibosh on it if he thought Deke would mistreat you.”

“What’ll I wear?” Trudy wailed, and Mary Lee laughed. “That’s the age-old cry of a girl being asked out on a date. We’ll think of something before the day is over.”

Mary Lee worked in the kitchen. It was a warm day. She worried about her mother being shut up in a room with only a couple of open windows for ventilation. Then it occurred to her that she might not be in there but out in the cabin with Frank Pierce. No, she vaguely remembered hearing her come in sometime during the night.

When the wash was on the line, Trudy, carrying a bucket of cleaning supplies, started on the cabins. Later she came to the house carrying a pair of white lace panties.

“Looky here, Mary Lee. I found these under the pillow in number four.” She giggled. “What’ll I do with them?”

“Put them in the wash, then in your hope chest.”

“Oh, you! I don’t have a ‘hope’ chest.”

“Then it’s time you got one started.”

“It’s a good thing Eli didn’t find them. All boys his age think about is . . . girls’ panties.” Trudy giggled and flounced out the door.

Mary Lee was chopping cabbage to cook with potatoes and carrots for a boiled dinner when she heard running feet, and Eli and Trudy burst into the kitchen. Eli’s eyes were as big as saucers; Trudy was as white as the sheets flapping on the clothesline.

“Come quick!”

“What’s happened?” Mary Lee dropped the knife and got to her feet.

“Fr . . . ank! Come look — oh, it’s awful . . .”

Mary Lee followed the pair out the door and around to the side window of the cabin. The shade was drawn to within four inches of the windowsill.

“I just . . . looked in.” Eli was so shaken, he could hardly speak. “And . . . and . . . saw him.”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“Look.”

Mary Lee had to squat down to peer into the cabin. With the shades drawn, the light in the room was dim. When her eyes focused on the object on the bed, she gasped, closed her eyes, then opened them again. It was still there.

Frank lay on the bed in his underwear, the broken end of a bottle lodged in his throat. It was the most horrible sight Mary Lee had ever seen. Above the neck of the protruding bottle his mouth gaped open. His arms were thrown wide; blood covered his chest. He lay in a pool of it.

“Is he dead?” Eli whispered as if Frank could hear.

“He’s got to . . . be. Oh, dear God!” Mary Lee leaned weakly against the side of the cabin.

“Someone killed him! He didn’t do that to himself,” Trudy whispered as Eli had done.

“Go down to Mr. Santez’s station, Eli. Call the sheriff and tell him to hurry.”