Seward County, Kansas, 1935, Molly McKenzie barely noticed the dark sedan that pulled up in front of her family's store. Minutes later, a hail of bullets rained down on her parents & shattered her world. Federal Agent Hod Dolan knows Molly can identify the gunmen & soon proposes a trap with Molly as the bait. Now, with the killers poised to strike again & desperate to keep Molly safe, Hod must learn to risk his heart & Molly must dare to love again, if together they are to survive the danger yet to come.
This is the second in Garlock's wonderful Depression-era series and a sequel to With Hope and followed by With Heart. It is set in Deward County, KS, in 1935 and begins with young Molly McKenzie singing lightheartedly as she changes the sheets in the upstairs living quarters of McKenzie's General Store. When she hears a series of loud pops, she thinks her father is plaguing her mother with the latest shipment of firecrackers, but she looks out the front window to witness two men getting into a big black car. When she goes downstairs, she discovers that both her parents have been killed and the store robbed. Molly's world is further upset by the advent of Hod Dolan, a federal agent, who convinces Molly to let him use her as bait to lure the bad guys back to the scene of the crime, not realizing just how dangerous this will prove to be. Even listeners who normally shun romances will enjoy this narrative, read by Kate Forbes, for the suspense, the interesting setting, and great characters. Enthusiastically recommended for all public libraries. Barbara Perkins, Irving P.L., TX Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information. -- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY.
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Grand Central Publishing
May 01, 1999
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Excerpt from With Song by Dorothy Garlock
Seward County, Kansas-1,435
"My baby don't carefor shows. My baby don't care for clothes. My baby just cares for me-"
The girl sang in a loud clear voice as she came into the back of the store with an annload of sun-dried clothes.
"What kinda song is that?" her father asked.
"A good one. Wanna hear more?"
"Not if I don't have to." A mock frown covered his usually smiling face.
"You don't know good music when you hear it. All you listen to is that old Doc Brinkley down in Del Rio playing cowboy music," she teased.
"Don't be knockin' old Doc. If his goat glands can do what he says they can, I'm thinkin' of makin' a trip down to Texas to get me some before the crowd gets there and they run out of goats."
"You'd better not let Mama hear you say that. She'll whop your backside."
"I'll whop him if he shoots off any more of those blasted firecrackers." Molly's mother set a basket of clothes on the floor beside a table and began folding towels. "He threw one behind me, and I almost jumped out of my skin."
"You're in trouble now." Molly danced up to her father and kissed his cheek. "I wanna be loved by you, nobody else but you Boop Boop A Doo!" She laughed gaily when he made an attempt to avoid a second kiss and ran up the stairs to the living quarters.
Roy McKenzie shook his head. It was good to have his girl home again. She brightened the place like an electric lightbulb.
Down the road, a hundred yards from the store, the driver stopped the big Oldsmobile and slipped the gearshift into neutral. The engine purred impatiently.
"Just sittin' there. Ripe for picking ain't it?" The man removed his hat, swabbed his face with a handkerchief and glanced at the man who lounged beside him holding the butt end of a cigar between his teeth. 'Y could use a orange soda pop right about now." Didn't the bastard ever sweat? He looks cool as a cucumber while I'm sweating like a nigger at an election.
Eyes, so light blue that they appeared to be colorless and as cold as chunks of ice, turned to the driver. The man spoke with the cigar butt clenched between his teeth.
"What ya waitin' for? Get on down there before we'll use up what gas we got left just sittin' here." He took the butt from his mouth and held it between his thumb and forefinger as he leaned forward to scrutinize the building they were approaching.
The store was typical of many scattered over the Kansas plains. Painted above the slanting roof on the porch that stretched across the front of the two-storied frame building was a sign: McKENZIE GENERAL STORE. And in smaller letters beneath it: GROCERIES-FEED-GAS.
On each side of the lone Phillips 66 gasoline pump, posts were sunk into the ground to protect it from careless drivers. Tin signs advertising everything from Garrett's snuff to P&G soap were tacked to the front of the store. On the screen door a big white sign outlined in red advertised NeHi SODA POP. A few shade trees were scattered to the side and behind the building. All was still except for the snap of the clothes that fluttered gently from a clothesline situated to catch the southern breeze and the buzz of the bees hovering around a clump of honeysuckle bushes.
The cold eyes took in everything about the place. When the car stopped beside the tall gas pump in front of the store, the man stepped out and looked back through the cloud of dust that hung over the long flat road. He saw no sign of another car approaching. He dropped the butt of his cigar on the ground and smashed it into the dirt with the sole of his highly polished shoe.