Lucinda Jones (eBook)

Tank Gunner (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2023 | 1. Auflage
388 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-3610-0 (ISBN)

In June 1950, Lucinda Jones, an aspiring journalist from Paris Junior College, comes to work for Miss Maybelle Winters at the PALOMINO PRESS, as President Truman commits US Forces to repel the invasion of the Republic of Korea. She uncovers secrets, challenges stubbornness, defies injustice, wins trust, discovers her strengths and weaknesses, and delights in the excitement and serenity of true love. This endearing story brings to life once again many of the author's memorable, down-to-earth characters we know and adore from Tank's other novels: The Redeemer, Palomino, and Porky Baycann.

“Yesterday, June Twenty-seven, President Harry S. Truman announced he had ordered United States air and naval forces to fight with South Korea’s Army, two days after Communist North Korea invaded South Korea . . .”

Lucinda Jones turned off the radio and parked her new Nash Airflyte in front of the Palomino Press.

She shut off the engine and took a deep breath.

Feeling a bit eager, she glanced left and right at the empty sidewalks.

Firmly grasping and adjusting the rearview mirror, she peered into it – poking and pushing her new pixie-styled red hair. Satisfied, she reached into her red-stitched leather purse, pulled out an engraved silver Zippo lighter, put a Camel between her red lips, and lit it.

She quietly smoked while fiddling to get the mirror back in place.

Through the windows of the newspaper office, she watched the hurried back-and-forth movements of two people she knew – Maybelle Winters, owner and publisher of the paper and Stan Stern, the photographer. An unrecognizable figure, dressed in a white shirt and a navy baseball cap, stood immobile in the frenzy. Head movements and hand gestures suggested the person was apparently talking with the other two.

Lucinda took a deep, final drag.

Exhaling, she maneuvered the cigarette between her left middle fingernail and thumb and flipped the butt out of the Nash.

Looking again at the three people through the office windows, her mismatched-eyes – one brown, the other hazel – caught peripheral black and white flashes from a window in the store next door.

Curious, she concentrated on a small television screen and watched the alternating images of a biplane doing barrel rolls and a man on the ground pointing and grinning.

Lucinda smiled.

Stunt flying.

Barber Gundersun.

She knew Barber; as an intern she had worked for him on two exposé pieces. He was a popular writer of human-interest stories for the Dallas Times Herald and had often lectured in two of her classes.

Lucinda remembered Barber’s closing advice at the end of a lecture: Reporters must get cleaned up and look pretty for the new-fangled thing called television.

The silent images on the tiny oval glass, set in a huge piece of dark wood furniture, held her attention until a man wearing an Army field jacket came running up the sidewalk, shouting at store doors and holding a large rifle.

“War,” the weapon bearer barked. “War. Annie getchur gun. We’re at war. Annie, getchur gun.”

He stopped in front of the Nash, raised his rifle at the newspaper’s door, and shouted again. “War. We’re at war all over again, over there.”

Lucinda narrowed her hazel eye and brown eye, assessing the threat on the sidewalk in front of her car.

Maybelle was first out, followed by the stranger, then Stan.

“Oh, my, Coogan, we know.” Maybelle’s voice was soft, soothing. “We know, Coogan.” She held out a hand, palm down. “Please put the rifle down, don’t point it at anybody. Please lower your rifle. Do it for me. It’ll be alright.”

“Is it loaded?” Stan asked. “Is your gun loaded, Coogan?”

The man with the ball cap placed fingers on the barrel to keep the gun down. “Let me hold the rifle for you, Coogan.”

A man from the store next door, the TV store, came up. “Coogan, it’s Web. It’s your good friend, Web.”

Web affectionately patted Coogan’s shoulder with his left hand, and with his right pulled the rifle from Coogan’s grasp. “We’re here with you, Coogan. Everthing is gonna be alright. Coogan? You hear me? Everything is gonna be alright.”

“We’re at war again. God bless America and pass the ammunition. We’re at war again, over there. Sergeant Maynard is dead, I can’t find Charlie and Corporal Grayson ain’t got no legs. Lordy mercy, we’re at war again.”

Listening to Coogan’s lament, Lucinda’s eyes softened. Her soul sensed anguish in Coogan’s voice; her heart felt his torment.

“Thank you, Mister Webster,” the man in the navy baseball cap said. “I’d take Coogan home, but I’m a little busy right now. There’s a body out near the Katy station and I came to get Stan to take pictures. Sheriff Dudley and Sheriff Blake are waiting on us. Would you take care of Coogan?”

“Yes, Porky.” Web said. He gently rubbed and patted Coogan’s shoulder. “Let’s go to Jeeps and get Bobby Jo to make us an ice cream soda, Coogan. Wanna do that?”

“Can we get peanuts with it?” Coogan asked. “I like peanuts.”

“We sure can. A whole bag and we can sprinkle them on the ice cream or eat them while we drink the Coke.”

“Dr Pepper,” Coogan said. “Peanuts goes with Dr Pepper. Did you know Dr Pepper is made in Texas?”

“Yes, we know, Coogan,” Web said. He pulled on Coogan’s elbow, and they turned away. “Here, let’s go to Jeeps, and then I’ll take you home.”

“Waco,” Stan said after them. “Dr Pepper was started in Waco.”

“We have to go now, Stan. The sheriffs want your pictures for their investigation because the camera may record evidence they don’t see,” Porky said.

Lucinda got out of her car, closed its door, and stood for a moment.

When no one took notice of her, she spoke.

“Hello, Miss Maybelle. Hello, Stan,” Lucinda said in a strong voice. “It looks like I got here at a busy moment.”

“Oh, my, Lucinda, I’m sorry. We were distracted. Poor Coogan is not right. Come on in. Stan is on his way with Porky – our Constable, Portland Baycann.” Maybelle held out a hand. “Let me introduce you. Lucinda, may I introduce Porky . . . ah, I’m sorry . . . Portland Baycann. Portland, this is Lucinda Jones. Stan and I first met Lucinda at PJC, and we got to know each other during our lectures to her journalism classes. I invited Lucinda to come talk with me about taking on assignments for my paper.”

“I want to do that, Miss Maybelle, but I heard what Constable Baycann told Mister Web, so I want to go right now on assignment with Stan to the dead body at the Katy station.”

Maybelle grinned. “That’s exactly the kind of thing an assignment reporter would say, Lucinda. It’s news, and people need to know.”

“What do you think, Porky?” Stan asked.

“I . . . I don’t know,” Porky stammered. “Maybe I better ask . . .”

“Billy and Jim won’t mind,” Maybelle said.

Stan added, looking at Lucinda. “As long as we stay out of their way,”

“Okay, Darlin, we’ll talk about the paper when you get back,” Maybelle said and passed through the paper’s doorway.

Porky pointed. “My truck. We need to get moving.”

“Let me get the camera and things,” Stan said.

“I need a pad and pencil, Stan,” Lucinda said.

While they waited, Lucinda realized Porky was looking at her. She faced him without speaking.

“I like your hair,” Porky said, “I mean the style. Short. And red. I think we got only two redheads in town.”

“It’s called a pixie cut. It’s a new fashion. I thought I’d try it.” She smiled. “Thank you for noticing. I’m glad to hear you like it.”

She watched his eyes shift from her left eye to her right and back. Her smile spread into a grin. “Which one do you like better?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”

“Genes. Most people believe people with red hair have green eyes. Women with red hair have blue, brown, or hazel eyes most often. In my case, I got the best of both – hazel for one, brown for the other. Makes people uncomfortable, though.”

“Why?”

“Well, I think it’s sort of looking at a person who has a lazy eye. We can’t decide which eye to look at when we’re talking with them. Same way with my two colors. And that gives me a leg up.”

Porky laughed.

Stan came out with his bulky Graflex in one hand, the flash gun in his other hand, and a black press photographer bag strapped over a shoulder. “I’m ready. I’ve got a pad and pencil for you in the bag.”

Lucinda turned to follow the two men.

Stan stopped and looked at her. “You got a purse?”

“It’s in the car.”

“Wanna get it?”

“Think I need to?”

“No, not in Palomino,” Porky said. “Paris maybe, Dallas for sure. But not in Palomino. Most people in town leave the key in the car in case somebody needs to move it. You can even leave your key in it, too. It’s up to you.”

“Okay, I’ll leave...

Erscheint lt. Verlag	6.12.2023
Sprache	englisch
Themenwelt	Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
ISBN-13	979-8-3509-3610-0 / 9798350936100

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