Free Dorothy Garlock by Glorious Dawn

sheds.”
    The old man’s grunt was noncommittal as his gaze swept up and down the slender figure of the woman standing before him.
    “I hope t’hell you got all the parts of a woman. You got the hair and eyes. You’re here and I ain’t got much more time to be a-dallyin’ ’round. I wish to God you wasn’t such a skinny bitch.”
    Johanna took a deep, hurtful breath and looked at him with disbelief. “I’m not going to like working for you, Mr. Macklin. You’re rude and you’re crude.”
    The man’s eyes were cold, but there was a strange sort of smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He nodded in Red’s direction.
    “Well . . . bring in her gear.”
    Johanna forced herself to appear calmly contemptuous of his rudeness, and soon her anger gave way to pity for the crippled old man whose heart was so corroded with bitterness that he couldn’t even be decent to a stranger in his home.
    “Cash says your sister’s goin’ to whelp and it’ll be a bastard. There’s plenty here, one more bastard in the valley ain’t gonna matter none. Does she have hair and eyes like yours? Is she heftier than you?”
    Bluntly Johanna answered him. “No, she’s small, and no, she doesn’t look like me because her mother was Mexican.” She said the last deliberately, then clamped her mouth shut and waited for an explosion.
    “Another bastard!”
    “No,” Johanna said firmly. “My father and I loved her mother dearly, and I want you to understand this: I’ll not allow you to mistreat her because of her mixed parentage. I insist that she not be subjected to any unpleasantness. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Macklin? She is the dearest thing in the world to me, and if she’s not welcome in your home, now is the time for you to say so before Mooney brings in our things.”
    The look on his face was surprise, then smoldering anger.
    “I ain’t got no use for a goddamn Mex. You’d better swaller that and keep her out of my way!”
    “That will be impossible if we are to live in your home,” Johanna said calmly. “So I suggest that you learn to control your prejudice.”
    His eyes narrowed and he glared at her. He seemed to be taking a second look at the slender young woman, aware now of her defiant stance, the eyes that met his unafraid. He had sent men scampering off the porch with his roar, and this woman stood firmly in front of him and gave
him
an ultimatum. The silence was heavy between them as they took each other’s measure.
    Still looking at her, the old man opened his mouth and bellowed, “Calloway!”
    A door opened at the end of the porch and a small, neatly dressed man came toward them. He was not as old or as weather-worn as Mack Macklin.
    “This here’s the woman,” old Mack said by way of introduction.
    As she offered her hand, Johanna’s eyes roved the lean features of the small man. His eyes were piercing and showed slight surprise, but his clean-shaven face was kind. In his youth his snow-white hair would have been black, the brown eyes daring, and his body slim and wiry. There was an air about him that spoke of education and breeding. She waited for him to speak.
    “B. N. Calloway,” he said. There was a noticeable lack of a southwestern drawl in his voice. “Call me Ben. Only Mack insists on calling me Calloway.”
    “Hello, Ben.” Johanna held out her hand and looked into faded brown eyes that were on a level with her own. “My name is Johanna Doan.”
    “Johanna,” he repeated, and his eyes flicked at old Mack. “Lovely name,” he said softly.
    Red came to the porch holding Jacy by the arm. It was obvious that he wasn’t sure about the reception she would receive and looked at Johanna to indicate what he should do. Johanna came forward and put her arm around her sister. She led her to the old man as if the words they had spoken about her had never been said.
    “Mr. Macklin, my sister, Miss Jaceta Doan.”
    “Good afternoon, sir,” Jacy said, with a frightened tremor in her