Dorothy Garlock - [Route 66] (5 page)

“No, we're not!” Leona took a deep breath and when she released it, anger boiled up. “We have a cellar full of canned goods. We have a cow, chickens and a garden. If you want to impress someone with your generosity, I suggest that you give your sack of groceries to the campers.”

“Crawl down off your high-horse, Mrs. Connors. I made a deal with Andy to stay here. While I'm here, I'll furnish my own grub. If you cook it I'll throw in some extras for your trouble. If that doesn't suit you, I'll cook it over a campfire.”

“I'll cook your meals but—”

“Good. Then it's settled. I'd like the pork chops for supper. I have a fondness for pork chops, brown gravy and biscuits.”

Leona's mouth opened, closed, then opened. “But you don't have to furnish our food. The girls and I will get along just fine. I'll cook your meals,” she said for the second time. “I'll do it in exchange for the work you do for Andy.”

“Tomorrow I'll hitch a ride into town and get my car. I'll bring back ice—”

“The ice man comes tomorrow. He'll fill the cooler with ice and soda pop. We don't need you to run errands. I can drive the car.”

“Listen, lady.” His voice was low and hard as his patience ran out. “You can be as unpleasant as a cow with her teat caught in the fence; but I'm here, and I'm staying until Andy gets back and is on his feet, whether you like it or not.”

“I didn't say I didn't like you being here. I just don't like your …charity and your high-handed manner.”

“Charity? What you just did was charity.” He jerked his head toward the campers. “You trotted down here with your cock-'n'-bull story about having too much milk. That woman wasn't fooled, but she swallowed her pride and took it for her kids. That's what I call good, down-to-earth common sense.”

Leona's face reddened. She breathed deeply to steady herself and spoke in a low, controlled voice.

“It's the truth. We have more milk than we can use.”

“If you say so. Remember this, I pay my way wherever I go, whatever I do. I'll not be obligated to you or to anyone else. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly.”

“If you don't want the groceries, you can throw them the hell out. But you're going to get them anyway. Make out a list of what you need, and I'll get it.” He turned and walked rapidly toward the garage. Leona followed, hurrying to keep up with his long legs.

“I'm sorry. I appreciate what you are doing for Andy. It goes against the grain to accept anything more from you, especially since you've been so uncommunicative.”

He turned. “Well, what the hell did you want me to tell you—that if Andy didn't get the shots he'd go mad within three to four weeks and have to be tied to a cot until he screamed himself to death? Or that the cost of the treatment was going to put him in debt for years?”

“I wanted the truth without having to drag every blasted word out of you. That's all I wanted!” When she met his eyes straight on, her breath stuck in her throat at what she saw in his face. At that moment he seemed dangerous …almost savage.

What kind of man was he, and where had he come from?

“All right, here it is. They'll give Andy the vaccine in the stomach over a four-to-seven-week period. It's very painful. The doctors are keeping him there because it's a hell of a long trip for him to make two or three times a week when he'll more than likely be as sick as a dog after the shots. Some don't survive the massive dose of vaccine. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Gracious me!” Leona's hand went to her throat. “I'm—” She started to say something else—what, she didn't know. Her voice suddenly dried up.

“That's the long shot, but it's still a possibility. The man is worried sick about leaving you and the girls alone out here on the highway, where not a night or a day goes by that someone between Oklahoma City and Elk City isn't robbed. I'm going to take
that
worry off his shoulders.”

“I …know how to shoot the gun.”

His eyes narrowed as he studied her face. It was framed with rich auburn hair: silky, shiny and wind-blown. Her lashes were dark, long and thick. And her eyes were the color of a blue-green stormy sky, shifting in hue to reflect her moods. They were compelling eyes that held a hint of mystery. As for the rest of her, she was long and slender and as supple as a willow switch.

“How old are you?” He voiced the question before he thought better of it.

“That is none of your business!”

“You're right, it isn't.” Yates was unaware that he almost smiled on hearing her quick retort. “Andy is depending on me to take care of his family until he gets back. Come hell, high water or you, Mrs. Connors, I'm going to do it.”

“I'll cook your pork chops and send one of the girls to get you when they are ready.”

Yates watched her walking back toward the house. A puzzled frown wrinkled his brow. Her head was up, her shoulders straight. She was proud as a thoroughbred, pretty as a spring morning and stubborn as a mule.

A few stars had appeared in the darkening sky when Yates, sitting on a bench beside the garage door, heard his name called from the porch.

“Mr. Yates? Your supper is ready.”

By the time he got off the bench and put down the brush he had used to polish a pair of his boots, the woman had gone back into the house. But as soon as he stepped up onto the porch, she was there opening the screendoor.

“Come in.”

He followed her through a dimly lit room to get to the kitchen that was lighted by a single bulb hanging from an electric cord in the center of the room.

“You can wash there in the sink. The water in the basin is warm.”

Yates's eyes swept the well-ordered, conveniently arranged room. A tall kitchen cabinet sat against one wall alongside a counter with a cloth curtain covering the shelves below. Next to that was a dry sink with a red iron pump. The supplies he had bought at the grocery store were stacked neatly on the counter.

A cookstove, probably used for heating as well as for cooking, dominated the opposite wall. Heat radiated from it as Leona bent to take a pan of biscuits from the oven.

He washed his hands in the basin, and while he dried them on the towel hanging above it, he watched her. Her face was flushed from the heat of the stove. She upturned the biscuits on a plate and took them to the table. The older of the two girls stood at the stove stirring something that smelled vaguely familiar. The little girl sat on the floor in the corner writing on a newspaper with a crayon.

Then he noticed that the table, covered with a white oilcloth printed with blue flowers, was set for one.

“Sit down, Mr. Yates. After this I'll serve your supper at six o'clock, that is if you're not busy in the garage.”

“What time did Andy eat?”

“We had the big meal of the day at noon and a lighter supper at night, depending on when he closed the garage. I kept an eye on the gas pump while Andy ate at noon.”

“I don't wish to disrupt your way of doing things. The big meal at noon will suit me fine.”

“Well, sit down,” she said again, looking up at him.

He was younger than she had first assumed. He was wearing a clean shirt. His damp hair was already rebelling against the brush. Something in the lazy negligent way he stood there with his hands on the back of the chair caused a sudden fear that he could, if he wished, reach out and swat her as he would a pesky fly.

Gracious. Outside he was big. Here in the kitchen he was as big as an oak tree. No wonder the girls were afraid of him.

“Have you and the girls had supper?” He continued to stand with his hands gripping the back of the chair.

“We ate earlier.” She brought a platter of pork chops to the table, then returned with a bowl of gravy. “I would give you iced tea but we're out of ice until tomorrow.”

Yates sat down and put a couple of biscuits on his plate, split them and covered them with the rich brown gravy. While he ate, the little girl in the corner sent shy glances in his direction. One time he caught her eye and winked at her. She lowered her head until it was just a couple inches from the paper and didn't look at him again.

Yates ate only two pork chops, but the entire plate of biscuits. They were the best he'd ever eaten. Andy was lucky his wife was a good cook.

It was strange to be sitting in this kitchen with Andy's family. Stranger yet that he liked being here. The only sounds in the still room were those made by iron clanking against iron as the woman moved the skillet to a cooler place on the top of the cookstove.

“Is it ready?” Ruth Ann whispered.

“Get a cup of cold water.” Leona took the spoon from the girl's hand. “That's the only way we can tell.” She dribbled some of the hot candy into the cup of water. “Roll it around in the water with your finger. See if it forms a soft ball.”

“It does!”

“Then it's ready. Now we beat it until it gets thick and creamy. Go ahead and start beating. I'll butter the platter.” Leona's eyes met those of the man at the table, who had finished eating and was sitting quietly. “We're making pralines, Andy's favorite candy.” She wasn't sure why she needed to explain to him what they were doing.

“I thought that was what you were doing. It smells good. My mother made pralines at Christmas after she coaxed me into cracking the pecans.”

This big, hard man had a mother somewhere!
Leona shook her head wondering why that should surprise her and turned to take a platter from the shelf. Even a skunk had a mother, she thought irritably.

Then Ruth Ann screamed. “Oh … oh!”

Leona dropped the platter on the counter and grabbed the child's wrist so that she could see her palm.

“Oh, honey—”

“It hurts! It hurts!”

“I thought I had the rag wrapped around the handle.”

“Oh, oh—”

“Hold it under the pump.” Yates was suddenly urging the pair toward the tin sink.

“Butter … is best,” Leona said.

“Water,” Yates insisted. “It'll take away the sting.”

Leona had to press against him in order to take the stopper from the sink and allow the water to drain through a pipe to the yard. JoBeth crowded in beside Leona, pushing her closer to the stranger, who stood behind Ruth Ann holding her small hand in one of his and working the pump handle with the other. After a minute he pulled her hand out from under the water and looked at it closely.

“I don't think you'll have a blister.”

“It…hurts.”

“Do you have any ointment?” Yates asked Leona.

“Nothing for burns but butter or lard.”

“I have something. Here, hold her hand under the water and I'll get it.”

Leona moved in behind Ruth Ann and took her hand. For a few seconds Yates's arms were around both of them. A wisp of Leona's hair dragged on his whiskered chin. Her woman's scent brought his maleness to full alert. His body jerked with a jolt of desire. He stepped away quickly.

“Be right back,” he said and hurried out of the house.

For God's sake! What the hell is the matter with me? The woman is Andy's wife.

After pulling the chain to turn the light on in the garage, Yates rummaged around in his suitcase until he found a small bottle. Pulling the chain again to plunge the garage into darkness, he stood for a moment and wondered what the hell he was doing here, and why he had suddenly reacted to that woman like a stallion in heat. On the way back up the path, it occurred to him that staying here to pay the debt he owed Andy might just be the wrong thing to do. Maybe he should hire someone to look after them and move on.

At the kitchen door he paused when he heard what the younger of the two girls was saying.

“Aunt Leona.” She was pulling on the woman's arm to get her attention. “Aunt Leona, Ruth Ann can't draw Daddy a picture now.”

“Yes, she can. She burned her left hand. She draws with her right.”

“I can draw Daddy a picture.”

“Both of you can.” Leona turned her head, suddenly aware of the big man who was filling the doorway and whose eyes were on her.

Aunt Leona? Andy's sister? Not his wife?

Chapter 5

Y
ATES CAME INTO THE KITCHEN
. His silvery-gray eyes held Leona's as if seeing her for the first time. He came up behind her and looked at Ruth Ann's hand over her shoulder. He reached around Leona and pulled it out from under the stream of water. Leona's hand dropped from the pump handle. She moved quickly to avoid contact with him.

“Did the cold water take away the sting?” His voice was soft when he spoke to Ruth Ann.

“Uh-huh, but my hand's cold.”

Yates cupped the small hand in his. “Yeah, it is. I've got something here that will help the burn.”

“What is it?” Ruth Ann looked up at the big man bending over her. It was strange having him here in their kitchen.

“It's the juice from an aloe plant. A Mexican woman down in Del Rio gave it to me when I burned my hand. People down there have a plant or two around the house. When they have a cut or a burn, they break off a leaf and squeeze the juice out onto it.” Deliberately, he lifted his eyes to the woman standing beside them. “I'll see if I can get your
Aunt Leona
a plant.”

Leona didn't like the look in his narrowed eyes. She hadn't told him that she was Mrs. Connors. He had just assumed that she was, and she hadn't corrected him. Now she wondered why Andy hadn't mentioned that she was not the girls' mother.

Silence between them stretched, then snapped.

“I know about the aloe plant,” Leona said calmly, deciding that she didn't care if he was miffed. If Andy had led him to believe she was his wife, he must have had a reason.

Yates poured two drops of the thick liquid from the bottle onto Ruth Ann's palm.

“Smooth it around with your finger,” he said to Leona. “Your finger is much softer than mine.” He stood back, corked the small bottle and set it on the table. “Let air get to the burn but keep the skin softened with the juice.”

“Are you a doctor?” JoBeth asked.

“No. I'm just a wandering cowboy.” Yates looked down into the earnest face of the child. She had Andy's blond hair and blue eyes.

“You know a lot of doctor stuff.”