Now he wouldn’t even be able to catch sight of her in town.
* * * * *
It might’ve been the longest two weeks since Jenny was a little girl longing for her birthday. Cooped up all day, whether working or not, and no more fresh air than she could sniff up through the window. Other girls were nice about fetching her things, but then she had to see them come back in smelling of spring and sunshine.
And when she finally could go out again, Mamie still didn’t trust her on her own, seemingly. She made a point of sending one of the older girls along with her to keep her out of trouble. And not all of them was exactly patient about it.
Jenny didn’t like sulking, and she tried not to do it, but Mamie did catch her at it sometimes, and didn’t seem real sure what to do about it. One time she’d lecture, and another time she’d try to cheer Jenny up somehow. The worst was when she made a point of sending Jenny up with a slick sort of fellow Mamie said knew plenty about pleasing a woman. Mamie wasn’t to know how much the fellow put Jenny in mind of the bastard from the big city who’d come and coaxed Jenny away from home, and then left her broke and stranded in Des Moines. Not just because they looked kind of alike, but because that fellow had been plenty good in the sheets. He might not have meant to, but he’d tricked her into thinking she could make a living on her back and enjoy it as often as not. She’d sure found out different, when he was long gone.
And anyhow, it didn’t take clever and fancy to make a woman feel good. Sometimes all it took was young and strong and eager, and eager to please, and smelling nice.
She didn’t know just why Tom smelled so good to her, but he did. Sometimes she woke up and knew she’d dreamed of him, just along of the smell lingering as she shook off sleep.
And what was even stranger and more of a nuisance, sometimes when a customer nothing like Tom did get her to enjoy herself, she still wished he was Tom.
She’d got herself all mixed up and turned around, sure and certain.
Chapter 10
Tom liked working with leather, even when he didn’t have anything that interesting to do. And he knew he should be grateful to have any kind of job. And he needed to keep saving money, seeing as he couldn’t take over the farm when Pa got too old, and he’d be damned if he’d live there as useless as a dried-out cow. But some days, seemed like if he had to look at Finch’s face one more time or jump to it when Finch ordered him around, he’d blow up like a pile of gunpowder and take the whole shop with him, leather and all.
At least he’d saved up enough to go see Jenny again, along with what he’d put by for he didn’t know what. By this time, Mamie should know not to point any of the other girls his way.
He’d built up such a need that he grabbed Jenny almost the second they got to her room, and didn’t slow down enough to be too gentle neither. She didn’t seem to mind, though, and they had a fine tumble. And after, she said, “There’s no need to go down again right away. Mamie doesn’t have to know we finished so quick. I bet you’ll be good to go again in a few minutes, and we can talk meanwhile.”
He sat up and pretended to take off the hat he’d already hung on the hook near the door. “Thank you most kindly, ma’am.”
Not that he knew what to talk about. He couldn’t see asking her how her day was going, nor her work. And his own day had been mainly irksome. Which did lead him to think on something he’d had running through his head lately. “I’ve been wondering whether I maybe could go for a cowboy after all. It don’t take a foot to ride, not really. And I’m good with horses. And just about all I want these days is not to stay in one place. I feel like I might go plumb crazy when I think about being in this town all my born days.”
A sort of shadow passed over Jenny’s face. Before he could ask about it, she glanced at his leg and back up. “Tom . . . do you really think that’d work? I don’t know much about what cowboys do every day, but don’t the horses have to zig-zag around a lot, real fast? Wouldn’t that mean chafing where your stump and the wood come together? And what if you had to jump off the horse sudden, and maybe jar things loose? Or if you rode without the leg, how could you put it on in a hurry? And —”
He was on his feet, and glaring at her. “That’s plenty of if and maybe and how! I should’ve known a girl wouldn’t understand. So what if it’s maybe tough?” Now she was looking hurt, but not as hurt as he was mad. “What’s the last tough thing you did, anyhow?”
Jenny jumped to her feet and put her fists on her hips, which he couldn’t help but find distracting, full and curvy as they were. “I should’ve known no man would have the faintest notion of what’s tough for a woman! You want I should tell you every hard or nasty thing I’ve had to do today already? Or all this week?”
“Hell, no! You picked this life, didn’t you? I didn’t decide one fine day to have my leg cut off!”
Turned out she could out-glare him, and by quite a margin. “You get on out of here! You’ve had what you paid for, now get!”
“I’m getting! And I don’t know as I’ll be coming back, either!” He stomped toward the door and made it through the doorway before realizing he’d forgot his hat. He had to turn back for it, trying not to look at Jenny to see if she was laughing at him. Hat finally in hand, he slammed the door behind him, and then hurried downstairs as fast as he could manage before Mamie could catch him and give him what for.
This sure wasn’t how he thought he’d be feeling about now. And on top of all that, he’d paid plenty to feel so chapfallen.
Tom stretched out to stroke Cochise’s back with the grooming brush. “I shouldn’t’ve hollered at her like that. And I sure shouldn’t’ve thrown her work up to her. She’s got every right to hate me now, and to never want me near her again.”
Cochise nudged Tom with his nose and turned his neck so Tom could scratch him in his favorite place. Tom obliged and went back to brushing.
“She didn’t say no more’n the truth. And she probably wouldn’t’ve said as much if she didn’t care what happens to me.”
Cochise blew out softly, sending a little drool Tom’s way.
“I can just see me, trying to put my leg on from horseback and falling right off. You’d turn around and laugh at me if you was there, I reckon.”
He was about done grooming the horse, but he kept brushing and talking anyhow. Cochise didn’t seem to mind.
“How can I tell her I’m sorry, if I can’t even go there — or anywhere else — to see her? Think she’d read a note if I wrote one and got someone to take it to her, like Doc?”
Cochise reached down for some hay to snack on.
“If she was a girl down the road somewhere, I could take her some flowers. I remember once when Ma was mad at Pa about something, and he figured she had a right to be, he went and picked some real pretty flowers. Don’t recall how much difference they made, but they couldn’t’ve hurt.”
Cochise munched his mouthful of hay.
Tom’s arm was getting tired. He dropped the brush and leaned against Cochise’s warm side, taking some kind of comfort from the horse’s breathing. “Even if I wanted to give Doc flowers to take to her, they’d likely wilt by the time she got ‘em. And everyone there would see him carry ‘em in, and think who knows what. But . . . if I could get ahold of some more leather, I could draw flowers for her. That’d last better, and she’d know I put some time into it. And she liked the picture on leather, before. Maybe it’d remind her of that.”
Cochise had had enough of being a leaning post, seemingly. He twitched like he was throwing off a horsefly. Tom scratched his neck one more time and stood up. “Guess I’d better ask Pa if he has any leather to spare, this time. And then ask Doc whether he’d mind, before I take the trouble.”
Pa had some old leather leggings — and how he’d come by those, Tom’d love to hear some time — that Ma didn’t like him to wear no more. “You’d be giving me a way to give her what she wants without saying so. I’d be obliged.”
Tom left early for town
the next morning and stopped at Doc’s town office, it being one of Doc’s days to be there if not called away. The office was still closed when Tom got there, and he was turning away when Doc hustled up. “Sorry, Tom! It’s harder to get out the door than it used to be, when I was a bachelor with only Major to stay and talk to.”
Tom looked him over. Doc had maybe put on some weight, whether from being married or just getting oldish. He and Mrs. Gibbs seemed to take care of each other pretty well.
Doc opened up the office, still talking. “So how can I help you this morning?” He looked at Tom and must have figured something out, as he said, “Is it doctoring you need, or some other assistance? I’m happy to help with either.”
Tom stammered out his problem. Doc listened and nodded and looked serious, except once in a while his mouth twitched a little. “I’d be happy to be your courier once again, and I think it’s as good a plan as any.”
As he opened his mouth to thank Doc yet again, Doc added, “My friend Robert told me once that different flowers mean different things. If you like, I can try to find out what sort of flowers convey an apology. Though that might just complicate things for you as an artist. And I doubt the young lady will care greatly about the point.”
Which was a kind way of saying Jenny wouldn’t know the difference. “I reckon not. Thank you anyway. For the thought, and for helping.”
Now he just had to find the swivel knife, or something else he could carve with on leather.
He spent the hours at Finch’s puzzling on what to do, all the while he did his usual work — soaked and scraped hides, and traced the shape of one half of a shoe onto another piece of leather and then cut it to match. What he needed, really, was for Finch to do him a favor. And unless you were Mrs. Finch or little Hope, it wasn’t real likely that Finch would do anything of the kind.
It was getting on for late afternoon, and even Mrs. Finch’s generous-sized dinner felt like a long-ago memory, when he realized he’d got it wrong. Finch looked at most things in terms of money. How could he make it worth Finch’s while to let Tom use the swivel knife once in a while?
Of course, he’d have to pay him, or owe him, or (he winced) take less in pay.
That’d mean longer stretches between visits to Mamie’s. But the way things stood, he’d got no reason to go there anyhow. At least if he could make the flower picture and if Jenny liked it, that might change. And if he kept on using his head, he might be able to come up with ways of making money he hadn’t thought of yet.
When Tom headed home that day, he did so with a sight less coin in his pocket than he’d planned on the day before. And with the swivel knife, its sharp edges wrapped in a scrap of waste leather, in the other.
Finch had listened to Tom’s proposal with a particularly satisfied smirk on his plump face. “Happens I ordered a new one of those a few weeks ago, and it just came yesterday. Maybe I didn’t mention. It never hurts to have two of something, even if I don’t use it all that often. But I suppose I could let you borrow it sometimes, if you’ll take less pay in exchange. Or for a little more, you could have it outright, so long as I can borrow it back if need be.”
It was powerful tempting, the idea of having the swivel knife to take home and use whenever he wanted. Without Finch looking over his shoulder and tossing out his opinions, or interrupting him, or maybe jostling him so his hand slipped. “All right, then. That last thing you said.”
And now, if he didn’t mind staying awake and working by lamplight, he could get started on making Jenny some flowers pretty enough to change her mind.
Chapter 11
“Come on in, Jenny! You’re the last girl Mamie’s sent up, so we’ll have a while to chat.”
Jenny remembered when Doc might have done more than chat when his work with the girls was done. Not that he’d ever picked her. If she was guessing, she’d guess she was a mite too young for him to’ve felt right about it.
He was looking her up and down now, but not with any desire behind it. “You seem more tired than usual. And I haven’t seen that pretty smile yet.”
She did her best to conjure one up, little as she felt like it. He was right about her being tired. She’d been sleeping more restless than usual, and the daily grind (now that made her want to giggle after all, for just a second) like to wore her out these days (there she went again!).
She’d made a point of not wondering why, not that it’d take much wondering. For some damn reason, she’d been missing that thickheaded dolt of a farm boy. Where had she got the notion he could cheer her up, when he’d riled her so much the last time he’d been?
Doc went on with her checkup, listening to her heart and her breathing with that funny snaky earpiece of his, along with taking a good close look at her lady parts. He finally straightened up and said, “You’re just fine, and I’ll tell Mamie so.”
She thought he’d leave, but instead he stood there with his eyes twinkling. Before she could ask why, he pulled out a leather scroll that looked a whole lot like when he’d given her Tom’s picture. Had Tom done another one? Maybe one where she didn’t look so pretty, or had her mouth open hollering at him?
She took it kind of cautious, studying Doc’s face to see if he already knew what was in it. He didn’t give her any more clues, though, so she went ahead and unrolled it.
It wasn’t a picture of her. To her mind, it was prettier — a bouquet of all sorts of flowers, flowers you’d never see all together given they bloomed at different times. Black-eyed Susans, coneflowers, Lenten roses, bluebells, asters, all tied together with a big carved bow. She could almost see the colors and smell the scents.
Jenny’s jaw dropped open in a way that’d make Mamie scold something fierce, if any customer was to see it. Doc came as close as he ever did to grinning. “It’s a nice picture, isn’t it?”
Jenny closed her mouth. “Yessir, it surely is.”
“And it must have taken him quite a while to make it, I should think.”
Jenny tried to imagine making anything of the kind. “I guess it must’ve.” Remembering the way she’d railed at Tom, she had to add, “I wouldn’t’ve expected him to take so much trouble.”
Doc sat on the bed like he figured he was going to stay a while. “Tom told me you quarreled the last time he was here. That you were quite angry with him. Are you still?”
Jenny looked inside, trying to answer him. “I don’t rightly know. I was, before you gave me this. But truth to tell, I guess I was trying to stay mad. Because — what good does it do me to think kindly of him? He don’t come here often.”
“Well, Mamie’s fees are something of an extravagance for a young man like Tom. And I gather he took a pay cut in order to obtain the swivel knife to make this carving, not considering it feasible to keep using one of Finch’s.”
She thought she might cry, and bit her lip to stop it. Which might not be such a good idea if her next customer felt like kissing. “And I can’t go nowheres else to see him, not after the last time. Mamie’d toss me out for sure.”
Doc’s lips went tight. For a second, Jenny thought she’d said something to bother him, but then she realized he was probably annoyed he couldn’t fix everything wrong in her life. He was that sort of man. He got over it, for now anyway, and asked, “Do you have any message for me to give to Tom?”
Jenny tried to think of something fitting, and to hurry up about it before Doc had to get going. “Please tell him — that this is a right pretty picture, and I thank him for it, and I’ll be looking at it often. And that I’ll be glad to see him again, whenever.” She gave Doc a smile as close to her usual as she could manage. “And thank you, Doc, for bringing this, and for taking messages and things back and forth like you’ve been doing.”
Doc patted her hand this time as he headed out the door. “You’re most welcome, my dear. Now I hope you’ll be getting some sleep to put the roses back in your cheeks.”
“Yessir, I’ll try.”
Doc closed her door behind him
. She should go downstairs. Mamie would be expecting Jenny to get right back to work. But she stole herself a couple of minutes looking at the flowers, tracing the lines Tom had carved. When she got too nervous stalling, she kissed the biggest flower and then squeezed the leather to her chest before she tucked it under her pillow, heaved a big sigh, and walked slowly to the stairs.
Mamie’s didn’t close on Sundays, but not too many customers came in, so Mamie let the girls take turns taking the day off. Most of the lucky ones would get together in the small lounge, the one Mamie only used for customers when things got specially busy, with a bottle of whatever wine Mamie let them have. They’d tell tales or, if someone was feeling generous, share a few tricks they’d picked up. It was the sort of thing she’d never seen at the other houses she’d had to work at, where the girls treated each other like competition and sniped at each other every chance they got. Not long after she arrived, Jenny had got up the nerve to ask Mandy about it, and Mandy had told her it was Mamie’s doing. “She says life’s too short to put up with any more squabbling than necessary, and if a girl looks to be a troublemaker, out she goes.” Jenny hadn’t exactly needed the warning, but she’d appreciated it all the same.
Tonight, Lucette had something new to share, a book of smutty limericks a friend had sent her from wherever home was. She read a few, her accent making an odd fit with the words so they was even funnier.
“There was a young man of Peru
who had nothing whatever to do
so he took out his carrot
and buggered his parrot
and sent the result to the zoo!”
Jenny had heard tell of zoos. She’d surely love to see one, sometime, somehow. And wherever Peru was, that’d be worth seeing too. Not that she ever would. She pushed down the pain that came with knowing as much, while the other girls begged Lucette for another.
What Frees the Heart Page 7