Read Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers] Online
Authors: With Hope
Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers] (50 page)
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“Aunt Bertha, I swear!”
“It’s true. Mark my words. Didn’t his woman die around Christmas last year? By now he’s raunchier than a two-peckered billy goat.”
“Mama and Daddy were members of his church. That’s why he comes here.”
“That may be, but he’s got his eye on you, too. His mouth waters ever’time he looks at you.”
“How do you know that?”
“Mark my words! That ain’t all! You know that farmer that came in here this mornin’, the one that didn’t have any laces in his shoes and only one button fastened on the shoulder straps of his overalls?”
“You mean George Andrews?”
“He was givin’ you and the
store
the once-over.”
store
the once-over.”
“George has been coming here for years. I’ve not said any more than ‘hello’ and ‘good-bye’ to him. He’s got about as much personality as a wet rag.”
“And he ain’t used one in a month of Sundays. Smelled like he’d wallered in a hog lot. What I’m tellin’ you is that both of them birds has got fornicatin’ on their minds. Fornicatin’ and gettin’ a meal ticket. That Andrews looked at you like a cat after a mouse.”
“That’s very flattering. One man wants to eat me and the other man’s mouth waters.” Molly smiled.
“I ran a boardin’house for ten years. I know what’s on a man’s mind . . . and in his britches.”
“Aunt Bertha! You’re not shocking me. I got used to you when I stayed with you in Wichita.”
“Oh, love, I got used to you, too. It was so darn lonesome when you left.”
“Have I told you how grateful I am that you came and how much I love you?”
“A time or two. I’ve only been here a few weeks. Wait until I’ve been here a year. You’ll be tyin’ a can to my tail and sendin’ me back to Wichita.”
“Don’t count on it.” Molly hugged her aunt and turned away to hide the tears that sprang to her eyes. “Will the hurt ever go away, Aunt Bertha?”
“Not entirely. But it will lessen in time. Grief has a way of doing that.”
“To lose both of them . . . and so senselessly—”
“I know. I lost my love during the War. I was sure that I’d die of grief. He died of influenza on the way to France. We never even got to sleep together. Oh, we wanted to, but we thought the decent thing to do would be to wait until we were wed. I wish to hell we hadn’t waited.”
“You loved him a lot?”
“You bet your buttons. He didn’t want us to marry until he had something to offer me. Then the war came along, and he thought it his duty to go.”
“Do you have a picture of him?”
“I’ll show you someday. He was a handsome Irish lad with black curly hair and eyes that had the devil right in them.”
“And you never met anyone else you could love?”
“All men paled when compared to Mick Shannon.”
Bertha fanned herself with a cardboard fan. She loved Molly as if she were her own. The girl needed a good man to take care of her, but from what Bertha had seen so far, the pickings here in Seward County were slim. Very slim.
“Do you think they’ll ever catch the monsters who . . . did it?” Molly asked with her back to her aunt.
“I don’t know, honeybunch. The sheriff said that he’d been contacted by the Feds and one was coming here to talk to you. I kinda wish you hadn’t told him you got a look at those fellers.”
“But I did, Aunt Bertha. I’ll never forget their faces. One was kinda heavyset, and the other one skinny, but he had a big head.”
“How come you remember all that?”
“I don’t know. After some of the shock of finding Mama and Daddy wore off, I began to remember things. The thin man had several bottles of soda pop, and the other man had an oblong box in his hand. I’m sure it was the box of SenSen that had come in a few days earlier. I remember Daddy saying a hundred packets would be a year’s supply. People around here don’t buy stuff to cover up bad breath when they have hardly enough to eat.”
“The sheriff said they were probably big-time gangsters travelin’ to Kansas City and saw the store as an easy stickup.”
“They’re cold-blooded killers, not stick-up men. If the police catch them, I want to be there when they’re strapped down in the electric chair.” Molly turned a cold, set face to her aunt. “I mean it, Aunt Bertha. I want to be there. I’ve got a right to be there after what they’ve done.” Her voice wavered, and her lips began to tremble.
“Come on in out of the heat, honeybunch, and I’ll fix you a glass of lemonade. You’ve worked yourself down to a nubbin.”
* * *
The big, black car came off the road and stopped a short distance from the porch. Molly felt an instant of panic before she saw Sheriff Mason’s tan Stetson hat. She could see nothing of the driver. They were waiting, she knew, for Mr. and Mrs. Bonner and their five children to leave the store.
Mr. Bonner had led his team to the side door and was unloading several bushels of ground corn and loading a fifty-pound sack of flour and one of sugar into his wagon. Along with the corn, they had brought in five pounds of fresh butter to trade. It was already in the icebox.
“Tally up the difference, Miss McKenzie. I’ll pay soon as I can.”
“I’m not worried, Mr. Bonner. You’ve traded here for ten years. Your credit is good.”
“I’m thankin’ ya, ma’am. I wasn’t sure now that Roy’s gone.”
“I know I can’t take his place, but I’ll do the best I can.”
“That’s good enough for me, miss.” Mr. Bonner cleared his throat and spit, more out of embarrassment than need. “If there’s anythin’ I can do for ya, let me know. Hear?”
“Yes, and I thank you.”
“I’ll be bringin’ ya in a load of stove wood.”
“I’ll be needing it, Mr. Bonner. We’ll make a trade.”
The children came out of the store and climbed into the wagon licking peppermint sticks. Aunt Bertha’s heart was as big as her bosom, Molly mused. At the urging of their mother, the children uttered in unison, “Thank you, Miss McKenzie.”
“You’re very welcome. ’Bye now. Come again.”
She watched the team pull the wagon out onto the road and waved at the children before she went back into the store.
“Aunt Bertha, the sheriff is here. I think the federal man is with him.”
Bertha put aside the wet cloth she’d been using to wipe the shelves. Since the dust storms had begun a few years back, keeping the store clean had become a never-ending chore.
Molly positioned herself behind the counter. She had already decided that she wasn’t going to like the federal man. If he were really interested in catching the men who killed her parents, he would have been here before now.
Sheriff Mason plodded into the store, his bootheels sounding loud on the wooden floor. He removed his hat and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.
“Howdy, miss. It’s hotter than blue blazes out there.”
“Hello, Sheriff. Aunt Bertha is making a pitcher of iced tea.” As she spoke, Molly’s eyes shifted to the man who came in behind the sheriff.
Looming over the rather chubby sheriff, the man was slim in his dark suit and a white shirt. He had removed his felt hat when he came in the door, revealing a head of thick, inky black hair. He was not what one would call handsome. His mouth was hard, and a glass or a knife had slashed across his broad forehead, leaving a scar that ended with a nick out of the end of one thick eyebrow.
Deep, dark eyes met hers. They held a combination of sharp intelligence and quiet strength. She was right in thinking that she would not like him. He was too cold, too controlled to understand the pain of loss she was suffering.
“This is the agent I was tellin’ you about. Mr. Dolan wants to talk to you about . . . what you saw that day.”
The man stepped forward and held out his hand.
“Hod Dolan, Miss McKenzie. I’m sorry about your parents.”
His hand was rough and strong and warm, but not sweaty.
“How do you do? We can talk in the back of the store. Would you like a glass of iced tea?”
“I can’t think of anything that would go down better.” The hard mouth didn’t become much gentler when he smiled.
Hod Dolan was a man with a photographic mind. His eyes swept over the girl locking into his memory the dark brown hair that hung to her shoulders, the slender, graceful body, and the skirt of the neat gingham dress swirling at mid-calf around her sun-browned bare legs. Her movements were coltish. Definitely not a city woman, she was as fresh and as wholesome as the golden wheat fields that surrounded her store.
“This is my aunt, Miss McKenzie.” Molly looked over her shoulder and spoke to the agent. “Mr. Dolan, Aunt Bertha. You know the sheriff.”
“Yes, I know the sheriff. Howdy to you, mister. Do you take sugar in your tea?”
“No, ma’am.”
“It’s hotter than an oven in here.” Bertha had wrapped a cloth around the sweating glasses on the table. “Take your tea out back. I’ll watch the store.”
“If someone comes in for gas, call me.”
“I’ll pump it,” the sheriff said. “Go on and have your talk with Dolan.”
“Don’t you want to sit in?” Molly asked, reluctant to be alone with the man. There was something rough-hewn, almost brutal about him.
“No, this is fed business now. Just tell him what you told me.”
“I’d rather we be out of sight, Miss McKenzie. I don’t want it known that I was here.”
“Why?”
“I’ll tell you in good time.”
Molly shrugged and led the way out the back door, across the porch, and into the yard toward the screened gazebo her father had built a few years back. She opened the screened door and went inside.
“It isn’t as clean as it was before the dirt storms, but it’s shady, and the screen keeps the field bugs out.” She took the cloth from around her glass and wiped off the bench.
“It’s fine.” Hod removed his coat and looked around for a place to put it.
“There’s a nail in the post by the door.”
His shirt was wet with sweat and, to her surprise, under the coat he wore a gun in a brown-leather shoulder holster. After hanging his coat, he stood silently, drinking his tea and looking at her for so long that she began to be irritated.
“What do you want to know? I need to get back to work.”
“I imagine Mason and your aunt can tend to the store.”
“What do you want to know?” she asked again.
“Everything. Start from when you first got up in the morning.”
“I had oatmeal for breakfast. Will that help you catch the men who killed Mama and Daddy?”
He ignored her sarcasm. “Who all came into the store that morning?”
“The Browns, the Sadlers, and the Folkmanns. A couple stopped for gas. They were from around here, too. Daddy knew them.”
“Did you see the car drive in?”
“The . . . gangsters’ car? No. I didn’t even hear it. I was listening to the radio. I turned it off as soon as
Ma Perkins
was over.”
Ma Perkins
was over.”
“What time was that?”
“Eleven-thirty.”
“How long after that did you hear the shots?”
“A minute or two. I heard the murmur of their voices first. Then I heard what I thought was . . . firecrackers. Daddy got in a shipment . . . that morning. When the screen door slammed, I looked out the window and saw the men. The heavyset man had a high voice—almost like a woman’s. I thought at the time the voice didn’t go with the size of the man.”
Hod nodded. “What did he say?”
“He said something to the other man about his not being able to do without his blasted soda pop. Only he didn’t say blasted.”
“The sheriff said one of the men left with something. Tell me about that.”
“The heavyset man had a box in his hand. I thought at the time it was the new box of SenSen Daddy just got in. There were about a hundred packets in it. Later, I looked for the box, and it was gone. The . . . killer . . . had taken it. Will knowing that help?” She turned her face away and cleared her throat.
“Absolutely. One has a fondness for soda pop, the other uses SenSen. I know exactly who they are.”
Thank goodness!
“That’s a relief. When you catch them I want to be there when they strap them in the electric chair.”
“That’s a relief. When you catch them I want to be there when they strap them in the electric chair.”
“Knowing who they are and catching them are two different things.”
Hod watched the changing expressions drift across her face. She wasn’t exactly beautiful, he decided. Not picture-perfect, but pretty. He watched as she moved the rich, dark brown hair from her neck with a nervous gesture and gazed at him with brown eyes, shining with tears she was too proud to shed. She was tall and slim, narrow-hipped, with a small waist and nice soft breasts. A man would have a sweet armful when he held her. Hod frowned, annoyed with the direction his thoughts were taking him.
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