Ozark Sweetheart Page 5

  “I’ve gotten the word out. Can you get there early to set up?” Jolene asked before they parted outside the door.

  “Sure.”

  Jolene tipped her head, eyes narrowed. “It’ll be interesting to see who shows up. And if there are any more anonymous donations.”

  “Let’s go, Jolene,” her ten-year-old sister, Irene, begged. “I’m hungry.”

  Jolene rolled her eyes. “You’re always hungry. Get in the car. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  She turned back to Callie. “Mother wasn’t feeling well this morning, and Dad stayed home to take care of her. I need to check on him.”

  A twinge of concern ate at Callie as she watched Jolene follow her little black-haired sister to their car. Isabelle Delaney had been sick a long time after Irene’s birth ten years ago. Then she seemed to get better. But she never fully regained her strength and struggled to take care of her husband and two daughters. Jolene had taken over more and more responsibilities around the home and, over time, had become the child’s mother figure.

  After dinner Callie took Riley a bowl of soup and spooned it to him. When he finished, he lay back, exhausted, and directed a troubled gaze up at her.

  “So sorry, Callie. I never shoulda let the guys talk me into that bootlegging mess. I don’t know what happened to make you come home...don’t need to know.” He paused to get his breath. “I just wanted to help...take some of the burden you been carrying. They made it sound like easy money...and they promised that no one would get hurt. Sorry.” His eyes closed.

  Seeing that he had fallen asleep, Callie took the bowl back to the kitchen. Guilt choked her. Riley thought someone connected to his bootlegging activities had shot him.

  Monday morning Riley joined them for breakfast, his eyes brighter. When they finished eating, he came up behind Callie as she put the leftover biscuits in the warming oven. He tapped her on the nose with an index finger and snatched a biscuit.

  Callie eyed her brother. “You sit back down and eat that. Let your body heal.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He winked. Then his expression turned serious. “I’m sorry you’re upset with me and Delmer.”

  She took a deep breath and poured hot water into the dishpan. “I’m not upset with you. Well, maybe a little. I understand that you wanted to help the folks, but I think you know now that it wasn’t a good way to do it.”

  He nodded. “I guess I let worry take over. I knew better, but I didn’t listen and really messed up. Now I’m worried about Delmer.”

  Callie started to say, “And Clem,” but didn’t. Riley didn’t need any more concerns right now. “I guess we both need to listen to God more.”

  Riley ignored the reference to God. “Callie, don’t you ever want to stop taking care of the family and have a life of your own?”

  Of course I do. “I don’t see that in my future.”

  “You should. You aren’t responsible for anyone but yourself.”

  I feel like I am. “I won’t abandon Mom and Dad, or the rest of you.” Even for a dream of love, or for someone like Trace.

  Chapter 5

  Trace sat in the chair in Carl’s barbershop, getting his hair cut. “What does Leon think happened with that Blake boy? Does he know yet who shot him?”

  Trace started to shake his head, but didn’t when a picture of the barber’s scissors catching him in the ear flashed in his mind. “I don’t know, but I’m sure he’s working on it.”

  “There’s been a lot of talk. Some people think those Blake boys are feuding with their neighbors.”

  “It wasn’t anyone from around here. The younger boy and his sister got a look at the guy.” He didn’t mention seeing the man at the school.

  Carl paused, scissors and comb suspended. “You mean the older sister, Callie, right?”

  Trace dipped his head. “She saw him, but she was over beside the house, and she doesn’t think he saw her.”

  Carl tapped the comb against Trace’s head, then began to snip again. “Now there’s a gal who would be a nice catch for someone. But everybody knows that family doesn’t amount to much. I hear those youngest two are pretty wild. Maybe she’s no different.”

  Trace swallowed his irritation. “She can’t be blamed for what members of her family do. She’s a hard worker and contributes to her family and the community. She and her girlfriend want to share what they have.”

  “That’s better than Beulah...oops, sorry. Didn’t mean to get so personal.”

  Trace sighed. News of his broken engagement had gotten around. “No problem.”

  When Carl finished his haircut, Trace got into his truck and headed to the Blakes’ place to get his lumber. Business had been brisk Monday. He and his dad had taken delivery of four new Independence model cars that Chevrolet had built in response to Ford’s successful Model A. They had also shown cars to several potential customers and sold one. In contrast, today was so slow that Trace had decided to get a haircut and go get his lumber while his dad took care of the business.

  He pulled in at the Blake home and got out of the truck. He didn’t see anyone around, but could hear the saw ripping wood down at the mill. Mrs. Blake answered his knock on the door.

  “Hello, Mrs. Blake. Is Riley doing okay?”

  She wiped her hands on her bibbed apron. “He’s getting around more each day.” She stepped back in a manner that invited him inside the house.

  He went up the two wooden steps and entered a square living room. A stove and wood box occupied much of the east side of the room. Riley sat in the only comfortable chair. He looked pale and listless, but he gripped the arms of the chair and looked up. On a shelf behind him a pendulum worked back and forth in a wooden clock.

  “Hi, Mr. Gentry.”

  “Name’s Trace.” He walked over and extended a hand.

  Riley shook it and leaned back while his mother hovered near the chair. “Okay, Trace. They say you took me to the doctor. Thanks. What can we do for you?”

  “I wanted to check and be sure you’re all right.” He stared at the young man and was startled at how much he and Callie looked alike. He hadn’t really noticed such a strong resemblance before. Of course, Callie’s story made him look for it.

  “I’m getting stronger. I’ll be back to work soon.”

  “Not too soon,” Mrs. Blake cautioned.

  “Good. Do you have any idea who shot you?” He felt certain that Callie had not told them her story. But he wanted to gauge Riley’s manner when asked about it.

  Riley’s head rotated back and forth slowly. “I wish I did. I never saw that guy before. Has the marshal found out anything?”

  “Nothing very helpful. He’s checking with some friends in other police departments, seeing if they make any connections. Is your brother staying out of sight?”

  Riley frowned. “I don’t know. He’s working with Dad at the mill. They said something about needing to quit early and go to town to get a new belt for the tractor.”

  Trace tried to sound casual. “Leon says he should keep low. He’s going to put out the word that Delmer left town so the man will hopefully stop looking for him. Is Callie around?”

  Riley gave him a speculative look. “She was around earlier.”

  “She went to the pond,” Mrs. Blake volunteered. “She said she wanted something different for supper.”

  So she had gone fishing. “Where is the pond?”

  Riley jerked a thumb toward the west wall. “Cross that field out there. It’s down in the next pasture.”

  Trace gave Mrs. Blake another look. “I’d like to talk to her a minute. Do you mind if I go find her after I pick up the materials I ordered?”

  “That’d be fine.” She left the room through a door at the back of the living room that he figured must lead to a bedroom. He had troubl
e comprehending a family the size of theirs living in three rooms.

  “You take care and stay out of sight for a while,” he cautioned Riley. “Leon said he’s keeping an eye on this place.”

  Riley nodded. “We’ve seen him drive by several times.”

  Trace exited the house and drove his truck down next to the sawdust pile where Mr. Blake and Delmer were sawing logs. Behind them was a barn and fenced lot. Back of the barn hogs snorted and rooted in a pen.

  “Over here.” Arlie Blake pointed at a pile of lumber.

  Trace pulled alongside it and got out.

  He and Delmer loaded the lumber and Trace paid for it. “Is it okay if I leave the truck here while I stop by and speak to Callie?”

  Mr. Blake’s eyes took on a speculative gleam. “It’s not in the way. Go ahead. I take it you know where to find her?”

  Trace nodded in the direction of the pond.

  “Run on. Take your time.”

  Trace hiked across the field and crossed a fence. Dusty air drifted over tall grass that had parched and turned brown. A bit farther he spotted the pond. As he reached the grove of trees at one side of it, the air smelled a little cleaner.

  From the tree line he spotted Callie. Curious, he paused next to a big oak and drank in the sight of her. With her back to him, she stood poised at the edge of the pond, staring intently at the water. She wore what looked like a brother’s overalls, the pant legs rolled up to her knees, and held something in her hand. When she raised her arms, he recognized a slingshot.

  Trace watched, transfixed, as Callie inserted a stone in the pocket, pulled the rubber strips back and took careful aim. Then she released the missile. It plunked right between the two eyes bulging up from the water. The body of a frog instantly flattened on the surface, knocked unconscious.

  In a flash Callie grabbed the tree branch lying near her feet and waded into the edge of the water. Then she reached out and raked the frog in with the stick. She pulled it up with a hand and carried it over to the stump where a big bucket sat.

  She picked up a string attached to the bail of the big bucket. Several frogs dangled from it. She attached the new catch and dropped them all back into the bucket with a splash. Turning slightly, she spotted him and jumped in surprise.

  He moved toward her. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “I had no idea anyone was near,” she said breathlessly, her body language telling him that he made her nervous. She kicked the tree branch away from her bare feet. “What in the world are you doing out here?”

  He eyed the bucket of frogs. “Being impressed by some incredible marksmanship.”

  She flushed slightly.

  “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he apologized, walking closer. The freckles across her nose drew his attention. Pink tinged her cheeks when their eyes met. He had to force his gaze away before he did something stupid, like grab her and kiss her. What in the world was he thinking?

  Callie pulled a rag from her pocket and wiped her hands. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I came to check on you and your brothers. I’m glad to see that Riley is improving.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Because you think that man will try again to shoot Delmer.”

  He nodded. “Leon says all three of you should stay out of sight. I agree.”

  “But we have to work,” she protested.

  His muscles tensed. He couldn’t admit to her, or even to himself, that she was becoming important to him. Way too important. He got a grip on his emotions and repeated the warning he had given Riley. “I understand, but your safety is important, too.”

  Her face had gone pale when he spoke of the gunman. He nodded toward the big stump next to her frog bucket. “Let’s sit down.”

  She tugged at the strap of her overalls and scooted onto the stump.

  He sat next to her. “Leon says if you can’t positively identify the man, he still has to consider the possibility that someone is trying to move in on the local bootlegging. He’s going to contact some friends in Saint Louis. He hopes if they put out the word that Cal—” he put emphasis on the name “—died and Delmer left town that whoever is after them will figure he’s done his job and go away.”

  Callie nodded, her legs swinging against the stump. Her face looked troubled. “No, I can’t swear it’s him, but I know inside me that it is.”

  “If it’s him, Leon will find out. If it’s not, there’s something else that bothers me. Gangsters and bootleggers usually work in pairs. That guy was alone. If he’s tied to bootlegging, I’m guessing he has a contact in the area.”

  She gnawed on her lip. “He shoots people, so he might be working for one of the city gangsters. I guess he could have come looking for me and just happened to find what looks like a fresh source of liquor for his boss.”

  “That’s good thinking.”

  He watched her throat work as she swallowed. Her lips tantalized him. “Delmer can work at the mill without being seen from the road. Riley’s still inside the house most of the time.”

  Searching for a way to keep an eye on her, Trace had an idea. “How about if I hang around Saturday morning and help you and Jolene with your community swap meet?”

  He couldn’t read her thoughts, but he sensed her heightened tension. “I’d find ways to occupy myself, and help you. Don’t you trust me?”

  She shifted her position on the stump and glanced away, clearly uncomfortable. “I trust you,” she said at last.

  Trace rolled his shoulders. “You’re a smart lady.”

  She looked down at her overalls and snickered. “Some lady I am. More like a hillbilly tomboy.”

  With that she swung her legs around and hopped off the stump. She ran over to the grassy area where a pair of shoes rested and sat down.

  “Are you done frog hunting?” he asked as she put them on.

  She didn’t look up. “Yep.”

  He slid off the stump and reached for the bail of her frog bucket. “I’ll carry this for...”

  As he picked up the heavier than expected bucket, his foot plunged into the murky pond water. He yelped.

  Now she did look up. And a beautiful smile lit her face.

  He extended a hand for an assist. But she ignored it. And laughed.

  * * *

  Callie hacked at the frogs as she cleaned them, giddiness making her reckless. The look on Trace’s face when he slipped into the water and she laughed at him had been priceless. Then he had walked beside her, his shoe squishing, and deliberately sloshed water on her all the way back to the house.

  A vision of his features lived in her mind as the frog legs sizzled in the skillet. High cheekbones, a square jaw, fathomless blue eyes with little creases at the corners, dark lashes. Everything she could want in a man—if she were free to dream of one.

  Trace had been a leader in high school, an athlete, and one of the few boys with a car of his own. Relaxed and carefree, he had made others feel at ease and important around him. Except for Callie. She had been jealous of the girls who flirted with him so easily, and of the pretty clothes they wore. Even if she had not been four years younger, she would never have been comfortable, or welcome, in his social world.

  She didn’t understand Trace’s interest in her family. She had no doubt, however, that his concern was for the entire family and their safety, not her specifically. Even if she were accustomed to the attention of men, a man like him would never be seriously interested in an invisible nobody like her.

  Lord, help me stop mooning over what can never be.

  After supper Clem and Delmer darted out the door.

  “That’s getting to be a habit,” Dad growled at Mom. “They’re dodging chores, figuring Callie will do ’em now she’s home. The Bible says them that don’t work don’t eat. They better le
arn that.” He slapped a palm on the table and got up.

  “It’s all right,” Callie said as he grabbed his hat. Actually, it wasn’t all right. But she didn’t know how much they suspected about the suspicious activities of their youngest children. And they had enough to deal with—working their fingers to the bone just to survive, and worrying about Riley, who had eaten better tonight.

  “I’ll be back to work soon.” Riley aimed a grim expression across the table “As soon as I do, I’ll drag Delmer right along with me.”

  And I’ll let Clem know that I won’t be doing her chores any longer.

  Callie was torn. If she worked at the mill to keep Riley from doing too much, that would leave her mother with too much work. But she had to find a way to make some money.

  Dad faced Riley from the doorway. “You take all the time you need. I’ll be explaining things to Delmer soon as I catch up with him.” He stalked out, slamming the door behind him.

  Chapter 6

  “You about ready?”

  “I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

  Trace watched his dad leave. He had entered the family business partly because of Leon’s abdication. His dad had been none too pleased when his brother had chosen to enforce the law rather than sell cars. But Trace truly liked being around vehicles and learning about engines.

  Last night he had run into Jolene Delaney at the ice cream shop and surprised himself again by offering to take her place Saturday morning if she needed to stay home with her ill mother. Jolene had insisted that she would be there, but had accepted his offer to arrive early and help Callie set up.

  Callie’s image returned. He pictured her: always working, her black hair pushed back, her manner gentle and caring. She had known poverty but had not let it sour her on life. Instead, she found ways—like this community swap meet—to help others. He swiped at his mouth with a napkin and got up to go to work. But he couldn’t wipe away the image.

  * * *

  Saturday morning Callie fumed as she hitched the horses to the loaded buckboard. The evening before, she had walked to town and found Clem and Delmer hanging out with the Lonigan boys, Troy and Chuckie. Their family lived a rough and tumble existence and would see running a still as a good business. From what she knew of the Lonigans, they would take delight in outsmarting the law.