Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers] Read Online Free PDF Page A

work near Wirt, commonly known as Rag Town, a hastily constructed tent city created by the massive influx of oil-field workers. Rag Town was a haven for bootleggers, gamblers, and prostitutes, ever willing to separate the oil-field worker from his pay.
    Tom’s job had been to keep the motors running at the gas- and oil-well drilling sites. When the drilling activities slowed, he drifted south, where he worked on cars, raced his motorcycle, and salted away his winnings in hopes of someday having his own dealership. It was a streak of bad luck, he thought now, that had brought him to Wichita Falls, where he’d met Emmajean. She was from Conroy, a town named for her grandfather, Judge Jason P. Conroy.
    “And that’s not all. Daddy won’t like it a’tall that I’m living in that shack without electric lights. You just wait until I tell him that the Henrys down the road have electricity. It’s not fair—”
    “Mr. Henry paid to have the poles set and the wires run. It took everything I could scrape up just to get the farm.” After that comment, Tom let Emmajean rant on. He had learned to turn off the sound of her voice when there was no reasoning with her.
    “Daddy said in his letter that Marty was home and was going to work with him. They’re goin’ to dig an oil well and make a lot of money. Marty went to a school that taught him all about minerals and things like that. You don’t know anything about how to make money. All you know is about greasy old motors and . . . being a dirt farmer—”
    Emmajean’s words floated over Tom’s head. His thoughts were on Miss Henry. Nice woman from what he’d heard. She had the most beautiful soft brown eyes he’d ever looked into. There was not a whit of pretension or guile in them. Her hair, the color of polished pecan shells, hung in waves to her shoulders, natural-looking, unlike the short bob and spit curls Emmajean wore.
    He’d not been in town long when he’d heard the tale about Dorene Henry, a member of the notorious Perry clan. Henry Ann’s trip to Oklahoma City had been to bury the woman and bring back another one of her offspring. The boy and the girl couldn’t be blamed for their mother’s sins. He guessed that was the way Miss Henry looked at it.
    “—And . . . if you’re in there more than five minutes, I’m going to start screamin’ and honkin’ the horn—”
    Tom pulled to the side of the house where the doctor had his office. He reached down, disconnected the horn, got out of the car, and reached for his son. He sat the boy astride his hip and went up the walk to the door.
    Doctor Hendricks was a man in his early fifties with light hair and a friendly smile. He came out of his examining room when Tom opened the door.
    “Morning, Tom.”
    “Hi, Doc.”
    “Hello there, Jay. You still mad at me for giving you that vaccination?” Jay hid his face against his father’s shoulder. “Don’t blame you a bit. It hurt, didn’t it? What’s his problem, Tom.”
    “He’s all right, Doc. Miss Henry stopped me as I passed. She wanted me to tell you to come right out. Mr. Henry’s in terrible pain.”
    “Uh-oh. I was afraid of that. I’ll get on out there and take some morphine.”
    Doctor Hendricks began taking things from a cabinet and putting them in a bag. Tom could see from his expression that Mr. Henry was seriously ill.
    “I’m sorry to hear he’s bad off. I met him only a few times, but he seemed a decent fellow.”
    “He was . . . is. Ed’s the salt of the earth.” Doctor Hendricks broke off and turned to grab his coat off a hook.
    “If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”
    “Thanks for bringing the message, Tom. I’d better be getting on out there.”
    * * *
    Henry Ann had time to say no more than hello after the doctor arrived. He went into the bedroom and closed the door.
    She waited now, sitting on a straight-backed chair in the parlor beside the library table staring blankly at the framed picture of herself on