Song of the Road by Dorothy Garlock Page A

you want to cut it. It’s thick and wavy and . . . awfully pretty,” he said on a breath of a whisper. He ran forked fingers up from her nape and through her hair.
    “Just trim the ends.” Then she said lightly, “I suppose you’ll want a quarter. It’s what the barbers uptown get.”
    “I was thinking about paying you for letting me comb it,” he murmured.
    Mary Lee’s head jerked around so she could look at him.
    “Now you’ve got it messed up. I’ll have to comb it again,” he said.
    Eli watched from the door of the washhouse, and the thought came to him that Jake liked Mary Lee, really liked her, in the way that a man wanted a girl to be his sweetheart. Eli didn’t know how he felt about that. He had taken to Jake instinctively, knowing that he was a good guy, but his mind questioned. Mary Lee deserved a man who would take care of her so that she wouldn’t have to work so hard. How would Jake feel about raising another man’s kid? His uncle hadn’t wanted him when his folks died, and he was blood kin.
    Jake finished cutting the tip ends of her hair and asked, “What about the new signs? Where are you going to put them?”
    “On the highway. We’re going to serve breakfast between six and eight every morning after the signs go up.”
    Jake waited a minute before he spoke. “Is your mother goin’ to do the cookin’?”
    “Heavens, no! She’d never get up in time. Trudy Bender, Ruby’s daughter, is going to help me get started. Then I can do it. Eli says my biscuits are as good as any he’s ever had.”
    He was still for a minute, then took her by the shoulders and gently turned her around. His face was level with hers.
    “You can’t take on more work.” His voice was deep and soft. He gazed at her for so long that a swift new wave of color filled her cheeks. “You’re already doing too much.”
    “I have to. I’ve got bills to meet.” She wanted to press her hand to her heart to stop its mad gallop.
    “You need to rest more.” His thumb and forefinger circled her wrist. “When is your baby due?”
    “The last week in September.”
The bank note is due the first of October!
her mind screamed. She tugged on her hand and succeeded only in pulling her wrist from his fingers to have them interlace with hers. “Women have been having babies for years, you know,” she said when she finally got enough air into her lungs.
    “I know.”
    “Back in the olden days an Indian woman squatted behind a bush, had her baby, then caught up with the rest of the tribe.” She didn’t know why she told him that, and wished that she hadn’t. Suddenly embarrassed, she glanced at Eli leaning against the washhouse, hoping he would say something. When he didn’t, she said quickly, “It’s nice of you to be concerned about me, but . . . it really isn’t necessary.”
    “I think it is. Have you seen a doctor?”
    She laughed nervously. “For goodness’ sake. You sound like . . . like . . .”
    Good Lord, she had almost said, “my
husband
!”
    But Bobby wouldn’t have been concerned. He would have been angry because she couldn’t work and that the baby took time away from him.
    “You haven’t left this place since you came here, have you?”
    “I went to town today.” Her voice quavered thinking of what she had almost said.
    “Would you like to go for a ride and see how the work is coming on the bridge?”
    “No, but thanks. I can’t leave. Mama could act up or . . . if Frank Pierce discovered I wasn’t here, he’d cause trouble.”
    “Eli will be here. The cabins are rented. Frank couldn’t do much harm in an hour.”
    She shook her head.
    “I doubt that anyone will see you with me,” Jake said. “If that’s what’s worrying you.”
    “That’s not it,” she said forcefully.
    “Go for a ride, Mary Lee,” Eli urged. “Pick out places to put up the new signs. They’ll be ready the day after tomorrow.”
    Mary Lee’s eyes went back to Jake’s. “You haven’t cut my hair