Dorothy Garlock (9 page)

Tess jumped off the porch and walked quickly across the yard toward the woods.

“’Bye,” Annabel called. “Thank you for the berries.”

Tess turned and waved. She wanted to run, but forced herself to walk until she reached the shadowed forest, then she ran as if a demon were behind her.

She hadn’t gone fifty yards when Marvin stepped out in front of her and she skidded to a stop. He had a pair of binoculars in his hand. She had been right about his spying.

“What’d you find out?”

“Nothing much. They’re nice folk.”

“What’d the woman say?”

“Said her pa sold things and was gone a lot.”

“Is one of them fellers her man?”

“No. She’s not married. They work for her father.”

“What’s he sell?”

“She didn’t say. I reckon it’s stuff in a catalog.”

“Ya reckon? Hell, I didn’t send ya over there to reckon.” Marvin grasped her arm. “Did she want the berries?”

“She wanted them. She was nice.” Tess tugged on her arm, but he refused to release it.

“Go back over there. Tell her ya’ll show her where ya got ’em. Offer to help make pie or somethin’.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Ya can if I tell ya to.” His fingers tightened on her arm. “I seen her up close.” Grinning, he indicated the binoculars. “Pretty, ain’t she? Leroy was right about one thing. She’s got good high tits.”

Tess had to admit that her brother was quite handsome when he smiled, but not handsome enough. His crude ways would turn Annabel against him.

“Yes, and she’s … nice. Leave her be, Marvin.”

“Ya tellin’ me what to do? Ya better heed what I tell ya. Get her over here in the woods so I can talk to her.”

“How am I going to do that?”

“If ya’d used yore head, ya coulda said ya’d show her the berry patch.”

“Why don’t you just go over and talk to the menfolk? You could talk to her then.”

“Yo’re a stupid bitch. Her menfolk want nothin’ to do with us Carters. They know we got a still in the hills.”

“They might want to buy—”

“Ya didn’t mention that!”

“No. I’d be ashamed to,” she shouted. “When ya goin’ back?”

“Tomorrow … or the next day,” Tess promised in order to get him to release her arm. “You got to take it easy with a woman like her. She’s got manners.”

“And … I don’t?” The fingers tightened again.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Ya ain’t never seen me using manners. I can sweet-talk a bitch right out of her drawers. She won’t know what end of her is up when I get through sweet-talkin’ her. Get home and get me something to eat. I got things to do.”

Tess ran down the path toward the house. Annabel wouldn’t want anything to do with Marvin. Compared to a man like Boone, Marvin was nothing but hill trash. Was Boone married? Was he in love with Annabel? She couldn’t blame him if he was. She was the nicest, prettiest woman she’d ever met.

I won’t let Marvin ruin her! I’ll cut that thing off him first.

Chapter
6

J
ACK BROUGHT THE COW TO THE BARN, put her in a stall and started the preparations to milk her.

“Didn’t Spinner show Annabel how to milk?” Boone asked.

“He showed her, but I don’t think she’s got the hang of it yet. I can do it as long as I’m here. I’m slow ’cause I can only use one hand.”

“Other’n stiffened up on ya?”

Jack held it out. “I dropped a crate on it. I’m hoping there aren’t any broken bones in there.” The hand was swollen, his fingers looked like sausages, and the back was dark with bruises.

“If there is, I doubt anythin’ could be done. Ya ort to try soakin’ it in hot water.”

“Miss Annabel had me do that.”

“You know a feller named Corbin Appleby?” Boone sprang the name suddenly and watched Jack’s expression. The boy looked surprised, then pleased.

“Corbin Appleby? Sure. He’s from my hometown. How come you know him?”

“We bumped into each other. He’s lookin’ for ya. Yore folks sent him.”

“How’d he know to look here?”

“Ya’ll have to ask him. He asked if I’d seen a boy named Jack Jones. I had, and told him so. He’s in Henderson. I said I’d brin’ ya in.”

“He’s arresting me?”

Boone’s dark eyes narrowed. “He said he wasn’t a lawman no more.”

“I guess he isn’t. The letter from my sister said he’d quit and gone to Springfield to visit his folks.”

“Whata ya know about him?”

“Not much. Everyone likes Corbin. He’s straight as a string.”

“Well, I’ll drive ya in to Henderson in a day or two. He’ll be wantin’ ya to go home.”

“He can want all he wants to. I’m not goin’ till I pay Miss Annabel back for takin’ care of me. I told her I’d put her in a garden and I will.”

“That’s up to you. Her pa might tie a can to yore tail when he gets back.”

“When will that be?”

“Who knows? Murphy comes and goes.”

After Boone left him, Jack sat down on an upturned box and began to milk the cow. He’d made up his mind days ago. He was staying here until he found the toughs who took his ball and mitt. He’d worked an entire summer to pay for them and he wasn’t letting some polecat get away with taking them from him.

He’d not go home with his tail between his legs. His pa and Joe had thought him just a wet-eared kid, and damned if he’d have everyone say he couldn’t take care of himself.

A few nights later, during supper, Boone told Annabel that he was taking Jack to town to see a friend of his and she would have to go along because he wouldn’t leave her here alone. A brief explanation brought on a barrage of questions.

“Well for goodness’ sakes! Why didn’t you tell me this before now? Who is he? How did he happen to ask you about Jack? Why didn’t you bring him here? You’re as bad as Papa at keeping me in the dark about things.”

Boone looked at Jack with lifted brows. “Did ya ever know a woman who asked so many questions?”

“My sister Jill. She’s nosy and mouthy.”

Boone answered each of Annabel’s questions patiently, being as vague as possible, then asked her to play him a tune on her fiddle after supper.

After lighting the pull-down lamp in the parlor, Boone sank into Murphy’s leather chair. Jack sat on the floor because his britches were dirty. Annabel, vexed at Boone for calling her beloved violin a fiddle, started off by playing “Turkey in the Straw” and then “Crawdad Hole” and “Yankee Doodle.”

“There,” she said with a glare at Boone. “That’s what’s played on a fiddle. This is what’s played on a violin.”

The strains of “Blue Danube Waltz” filled the small room. Although neither Boone or Jack knew the name of the melody, they thought it was beautiful, and they could see her obvious enjoyment as she played it. She played a medley by Brahms including “Lullaby.” Before she finished she played “Moonlight Sonata” by Beethoven.

Boone’s eyes glittered with pride and pleasure as he watched and listened. Jack sat absolutely still, overcome by admiration.

“You sure play pretty, Miss Annabel,” Jack said while she was wiping her violin off with a soft cloth and putting it back in the case.

“Thank you, Jack. When we go to town, I’d like to find out if there’s going to be a concert Sunday afternoon. If so, I’d like to go.”

“I ain’t sittin’ through no concert.” Boone got to his feet and stretched.

“You don’t have to,” Annabel answered pertly. “You can go to the river and fish while I’m at the park.”

Boone scowled, left the room and went to the water bucket.

Unknown to the three in the room, another pair of eyes had peered in through the window, watched and listened to the music played by the slender girl with long bare legs and soft, rounded breasts. When she finished playing, the watcher saw Boone leave the room and, thinking the man might come outside, moved silently to the edge of the woods and squatted down beside a tree where he could watch the house.

He would have this woman. He’d gotten every woman he’d wanted so far, and this one wouldn’t be any different. It would just take a little more planning. He would have to ride into town early in the morning and go to the barbershop.

Corbin Appleby looked up and nodded a greeting as Marshal Sanford passed his table in the hotel dining room. He finished his breakfast and went to his room. Five minutes later he answered the expected knock on his door.

“Come in, Marshal.”

“Good to see you, Appleby.” The two men shook hands. “I was about to give up on you.”

“Have a seat. Sorry, I missed the Friday meeting. Someone mistook me for a revenue agent and shot me. I was laid up for a while.”

“Shot you? Are you all right now?”

“Yeah. I’ll be limping around for a while, but the doctor says I’ll be all right.”

“I’m sorry you were shot, but it might give you a reason for hanging around.”

“I thought of that.”

“Here’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Corbin. I need a man here to do a little snooping around. These people are clannish as hell. If they got wind you were connected to the law, you’d never find out anything.”

“I told you when we talked before that I was coming over this way to look for Jack Jones. He was in the area and his folks were worried. I found him quite by accident. That will give me another reason for being here.”

“The kid will spread it around that you were the police chief of Fertile.”

“If it happens, I’ll say I was fired and let them think that I’m seeking revenge. I might even blame my firing on you.”

Marshal Sanford looked thoughtful for a short while, then nodded.

“That should work out just fine.” Marshal Sanford took a package of papers from his inside coat pocket. “Look these over carefully and keep them with you. Hotel folks are naturally curious.”

“What if I need to get in touch with you?”

“Write to Mrs. Ned Wicker, Box 6, Jefferson City. Let folks think she’s your sister. If you need me in a hurry, send a wire saying that your Aunt Maude is sick. Sign it J. Jones. I’ll get back to you. Do you plan to stay here at the hotel?”

“The rooms don’t cost that much more than they do at a boardinghouse. And landladies, as a rule, are nosy. They like something new to gossip about. Here, I’m more private and still in the thick of what’s going around town.”

The marshal went to the door. Corbin followed and opened it. He looked up and down the hall, then nodded.

“Good luck, Corbin. I figured you’d be a good man for this job.”

“Good-bye, Marshal. I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I ask.” Marshal Sanford went quickly down the hall and into an adjoining room.

Corbin sat down in the chair beside the window and read the papers several times, committing some of the information to memory. When he stood, he opened his shirt and tucked the package of papers into the waist of his britches next to his skin. He left the room, went down the stairs and out onto the hotel porch to sit and ponder what he’d just learned.

Annabel rode into town in the truck, seated between Boone and Jack.

“Do you know where to find the man Jack is going to meet?” she asked as they approached town.

“No. But I’ll find him. First I’ll let you out to gab with the store clerks and spend Murphy’s money.”

“I’ll go along with you and Jack,” she said firmly, looking straight ahead, conscious that Boone was eyeing her with a frown. “We can stop at the grocery before we go home. I’ll get a can of peaches and make you a cobbler.” She turned, gave him a sweet smile and squeezed his arm.

“Now, Jack,” Boone said seriously and turned the truck toward the hotel, “this is what ya got to look out for. A woman, pretty or not, will be contrary as a mule, then try and sweeten ya up by smilin’ and offerin’ up somethin’ she knows yo’re fond of.”

“And Jack,” Annabel said, equally as seriously, “it works most of the time.”

Jack was silent. He had become used to the banter between Annabel and Boone. He was looking forward to seeing Corbin and hearing the news from home.

“There’s his car.” Boone stopped the truck in front of the hotel. “We’re in luck. He’s sittin’ on the porch.”

Annabel couldn’t tell much about the man who lounged in the wicker rocking chair on the front porch of the hotel. He wore a white shirt and a Panama hat. The shoe of the foot perched on the porch rail was polished.

Jack was out of the truck as soon as it stopped. The man on the porch stood and limped to the steps to meet him. They shook hands.

“Good to see you, Jack.”

“Good to see you too, Mr. Appleby. How are things at home?”

“Fine when I left a little over a month ago. Julie was fretting because they hadn’t heard from you. I was going to swing over this way to see an old friend and offered to see if I could find you.”

“Yeah, well, I was on my way home and ran into a little trouble. Come out to the truck. I want you to meet Miss Annabel. She took me in and maybe saved my life. Guess you already know Boone.”

With the help of a cane, Corbin followed Jack down the steps and across the walk to the truck where Annabel stood waiting. He looked across the cab of the truck and nodded to Boone, then removed his hat. The sun shone on a head of thick dark blond hair.

“Annabel, this is Chief Appleby … rather, Mr. Appleby now. Mr. Appleby, meet Miss Annabel Lee Donovan. I owe her a lot.”

“I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Appleby.” Annabel held out her hand. Her parted lips showed small even teeth when she smiled. She peered up at him from beneath the narrow brim of a hat decorated with a wide blue ribbon bow. Her eyes were an unusual shade of green. It was hard for Corbin to look away from her. She sparkled.

“Same here, ma’am.” Corbin held her hand briefly and released it. “Jack’s folks will thank you for what you’ve done for him. For some reason I’ve not figured out yet, they’re fond of him.” Corbin’s eyes shot to Jack’s grinning face.

“I can understand why. I could become quite fond of him myself.” Her smiling eyes moved to Jack, then back to the tall man. “Well, I expect you two have a lot to talk about.”

“I’ll be back this afternoon, Miss Annabel. I want to work up the ground so I can plant the squash and pumpkins tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is Sunday, Jack. You don’t have to work on Sunday.”