Uma's Undoing

by Dallis Adams

  “Not this again. For the last time, I don’t care about Catalina.” Orlando glanced over his shoulder at Jack, a look of defeat in the droop of his head and mouth. “Do you mind? Let go of me, Sheriff. I won’t hit anybody.”

  Jack released him and stepped back, but not so far away that he couldn’t get control of him again.

  Orlando rose to his feet with a grimace, shaking the hand that Jack had held down. “Rosia. Mi amor. How many times do I have to tell you? Catalina is only a friend. When you walked in to our bedroom yesterday, Catalina was lifting my head to help me drink the tonic she’d made for my cough. I have continued to take the remedy and I am already well. See? Talking used to make me cough and here I am, talking, and not coughing. So I am better.”

  “Don’t try to distract me, marido. You had your face buried in her bosom.” Rosia crossed her arms and sniffed.

  “I did not,” Orlando retorted.

  “And,” Rosia continued as if her husband hadn’t spoken, “she was whispering sweet-nothings in your ear.”

  “She was chanting the incantations to increase the healing power in the elixir. Just like mi madre would do when we lived in Mazatlan.”

  Rosia glared at Orlando, as if he were missing a part of his brain. “Think, husband. Not just like your mother. Because your mother wasn’t trying to steal you from me.”

  Impatience ripped through Uma. She had no time or patience for useless emotions that hindered a person’s common sense. “Rosia. If you’re going to get angry at somebody, be mad at me. I was the one who insisted that Catalina go to your house and help your husband, especially because you had left Zada to care for him, which is why Zada has been missing school this week.” Zada was their seven-year-old daughter. “And Zada came to me after school, once you got home, because she was scared since her father couldn’t stop coughing.” When Rosia scowled and opened her mouth to speak, Uma spoke over her. “Shame on you for leaving Zada with no recourse but to worry.”

  “Don’t scold me,” Rosia said, putting her hands on her curvy hips and looking down her nose at Uma. “Who is going to work, huh? Who will bring in money to buy food? Orlando certainly can’t when he’s sick. I had to leave him to work at Thistle Do Nicely. I sew there. I sell my wares there. So it’s Zada’s job to care for her papa, not to approach the bruja Catalina!” Rosia grabbed Zada’s small shoulder and shook it. “Zada, I forbade you to talk to the bruja.”

  “No,” Uma retorted, shaking her finger at Rosia. “Don’t you dare blame Zada for trying to help her father. She was afraid to even leave the house with her father as sick like he was. So she had Tawni come and get me. I was the one who went and got Catalina.”

  Rosia’s face turned red. “You had no right to stick your nose into our family’s affairs.”

  “When your family affairs hinder my students from attending school, I sure do.”

  Just then, Orlando coughed.

  “Listen to Orlando’s cough now. Already, after only one day of treatment, Orlando’s cough is loosening. It’s a wet cough, which is good because all of that congestion will get out of his system.”

  Rosia turned toward Jack. “Tell your wife to stop sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  But Jack simply shook his head at Rosia and moved to stand next to Uma. “Uma has every right to investigate when students miss school. It’s her job. In fact, I have the right, too, to look into the reason a child isn’t in school, especially if or when the teacher asks for my help.”

  Rosia continued to hold her nose in the air. “I want to press charges.”

  “Against Uma?” Lala asked, her tone high and incredulous-sounding. Pauline Ludermann also frowned at Rosia. Gildie, Cojocaru’s musician, stepped up protectively next to Uma.

  “Not Uma.” Rosia shook her head. “Against Catalina. She was trespassing.”

  “Your jealousy is making you stupid,” Uma said.

  “Excuse me? Did you call me stupid?”

  “Yes, she did,” Lala confirmed. “And I agree. You are being irrational because you’re imagining an affair that isn’t there. Catalina would never be so unprofessional as to pursue a patient, especially one who is married.”

  “Well, I didn’t hire her to look after my husband. She entered the vardo without permission, so I’m charging her with trespassing.”

  Orlando walked over to stand beside his wife. “You can’t do that.”

  “And why not?” Rosia asked with a huff.

  “Because I invited her in.”

  “Ay carumba! From now on, Doc Elroy will be treating you,” Rosia announced, her chin so high in the air that Uma was worried she would see Rosia’s nostril hairs if she bothered to look.

  As if hearing his name was a cue for him to involve himself, Hancock took a step forward as he ran a hand over his already slicked down pomade hair. “I assure you, sir, I can rid you of your malady. If you will just give me a chance.”

  “Over my dead body.” Lips thinned, eyes slitted, Orlando glared at Hancock. “Or, rather, yours. Don’t knock on my door or come near my wife again, unless you have a death wish.”

  Rosia harrumphed and stomped her foot.

  “And you.” Orlando pointed a finger at Rosia. “Stay away from Hancock or whatever his name is.”

  “Only if you stay away from the bruja.”

  “Stop it. Now. You’ve taken this too far. You are jealous over nothing.” He suddenly swept Rosia up over his shoulder like a sack of grain, causing her to shriek in surprise. “We’re going home. You are going to put Catalina’s salve on my chest, and then I’m going to show you just how well I’m feeling.” He whispered something in Spanish that made Rosia gasp in delight, and then giggle.

  Hancock smiled and puffed out his barrel-like chest. “My treatment of her feminine hysteria worked. That is why husband and wife are now amorous once again.”

  “Sorry, Hancock,” Uma said, not about to call him by a title that he didn’t deserve. “You didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “Oh?” He lifted his brows in what Uma could only describe as a supercilious expression. Cocky. “And what did?”

  “Love.” Everyone could see how much Orlando loved his wife. Although Uma thought it was too bad that Rosia’s insecurity blinded her to the truth.

  “Can’t argue with that,” Lala agreed. “Those two are either fighting, or reconciling.”

  “Yeah, love makes couples do crazy things,” Luther agreed as he worried his lower lip and glanced once again in the direction that Orchilo had left with her new beau.

  “Alright. Break it up. Go on about your day,” Jack said.

  Uma watched Gildie, Luther and those who had been lingering to watch the altercation walk away. Angela and her sidekick went around to the side of Hancock’s vardo to arrange the display of medicinals. Lala gave a wide eyed look at Uma, then at Doc Elroy, then at her again, and mouthed be good.

  Suddenly, Jack wrapped an arm around Uma, tucking her into his side in a possessive manner, and then turned toward Hancock. “I would say good afternoon, but the whole feminine hysteria treatment thing got in the way of my greeting.”

  Uma scowled at her new husband. Hadn’t he heard a word she’d said about Doc Elroy and his nefarious ways? Couldn’t Jack see the man was a con artist? Look at his jaded treatment for women! As if he sensed her thoughts, he leaned to whisper in her ear. “Trust me.”

  “Good afternoon, Jack,” Doc said as he turned toward them, ignoring Uma’s frown. “Nice to see you again, even if the timing was off, given Orlando’s reaction to my treatments for his wife.”

  Jack raised his brows. “I’m surprised you didn’t come by to see me before peddling your wares.”

  Doc gave Jack a wry grimace. “I was going to, but I had to visit my attorney. Then I got sidetracked when a few of your citizens stopped me and started to ask questions about my elixirs. It seemed like a good opportunity to give my spiel.” He glanced down at Uma, then at Jack again. “Oh, and congratulations
on your marriage to Suzette’s daughter. What a pleasant surprise. Two of my favorite people found each other. And are in marital bliss, I can see.”

  “Thanks, Doc.” Jack gave her a squeeze, tucking her more securely into his side.

  Hancock bit his lips and then gave her a sorrowful look. “Uma, I know you don’t like me. That you blame me for your stepsister’s death. But please, give me a chance. I would like to talk to you privately, if you’ll allow it. Because I am a changed man. I really have studied overseas, and I would like for you to give me a chance to show you how I have turned over a new leaf.”

  Uma started to give a cynical response, but Jack squeezed her, as if he knew. All she could say was, “Maybe.”

  “Uma loved her stepsister,” Jack said quietly. “They were very close. The loss was traumatic for her. And since you were the one treating her, and she died on your watch, you can see why Uma blames you.”

  The doc nodded. “Of course I can understand why she blames me and wants me gone. And I will. Go, that is, if Uma can’t forgive me. But I am hoping that she will give me a chance.”

  Jack rubbed her arm. “She will.”

  For some reason, she felt pressured. “I said maybe.”

  “That’s all I can ask for,” Doc replied.

  Jack released Uma, but grabbed her by the hand as he addressed Doc. “I think it’s best if you close up shop for now. Open again in the morning.”

  Hancock scowled. “But it’s not even four o’clock yet.”

  Jack bobbed his head. “That’s right. But we’ve had enough excitement for the day. Besides, in three weeks, the carnival will be officially opened. That’s when you’ll have the most business. But please. No more treatments for feminine hysteria.”

  “I agree. I don’t want a repeat of Orlando’s reaction.”

  “Good to know. Talk to you later, Doc,” he said and pulled Uma by the hand to walk toward the Sheriff’s Office. “Come on. We’ve got some catching up to do.”

  “What sort of catching up?”

  “You are spectacular. And I’ve missed you. You know how I adore that passionate nature of yours, especially when you are fighting for a cause. I want you to commit to another cause.”

  “Which is?” she asked as she ran to keep up.

  She thought he was heading for the Sheriff’s Office and Jail. But he walked past the door and, instead, followed the boardwalk toward the stairs in the alley that led to their living quarters above. “Husbandly rights.”

  Heat rose to her cheeks, even as she took longer steps to walk beside him. “Never mind that. What about wifely rights?”

  “That’s what I’m talking about. I love your spirited repartees.”

  She was learning all about what goes on between a wife and her husband. And she was in the mood to try out her new ideas. “This time, you’d better watch out.”

  “Why?”

  “Because. I’m going to win.”

  Jack’s smile was slow, knowing. “I have a feeling we’re both going to be winners.”

  She returned it. “That’s what it’s all about.”

  Five

  “Miss Uma! Doc Elroy wants to see you,” Rush shouted on the other side of hers and Jack’s upstairs abode. “He sent a gift that I’m leaving on the stoop. Sheriff Jack! You’re needed at the copper mill. The workers are protesting, saying Mr. Chuck short changed them again.”

  In their tiny apartment above the sheriff’s office and jail house, Uma sprawled next to Jack, her head in the hollow of his shoulder. She felt boneless in the aftermath of some very intense lovemaking. That didn’t last once she heard Rush’s announcement. “Tell Hancock to go away.”

  “Tell Doc Elroy she’ll be there shortly,” countered Jack. “And I’ll sort out the ruckus at the copper foundry.”

  “Will do, Sheriff Jack,” Rush called from the other side of the door.

  “I’m your teacher.” The cozy feeling she was getting from being close to Jack was starting to get cloying. She pushed away from Jack’s embrace and sat up. “Do as I say and tell Doc that I’m not coming.”

  “But Sheriff Jack is the Sheriff. And your husband. You’re supposed to do as he says.” The nine-year-old sounded very sure of himself.

  “Oh?” Uma replied, determined to set him right about who was boss. “Who says?”

  “My mother, who is to be obeyed above all,” Rush answered. “Even above Sheriff Jack.”

  “I’ll have to have a talk with Pauline,” Uma grumbled. She didn’t bother to say that Pauline didn’t have a husband because that would be cruel. Pauline’s husband died in a farming accident shortly after Rush was born.

  “Oh! And, Miss Uma,” Rush said, still speaking through the flimsy door. “The doc has parked his caravans away from Caravan Row. He’s next to the woods, on the other side of the Cojocaru wagons. He said he would be at his medicine caravan, working on his … medicines.”

  “Wait!” But when she heard the nine-year-old clamber down the wooden stairs, she realized it was too late. “But I don’t want to see the unscrupulous scoundrel,” she said coming out in a petulant, whiny tone that made her cringe. She drew on her seemingly endless anger to strengthen her tone. “He’s a lying, cheating con artist, and I’ll not give him the time of day.”

  “Shh,” Jack replied and grabbed Uma’s waist to roll her on top of him. He gave her a squeeze before nibbling along her collarbone, his warm breath causing her toes to curl. He nuzzled her neck, his afternoon whiskers doing funny things to her stomach. “I don’t know what Doc Elroy was like when he treated your stepsister. But I do know his character now. The doc I know is passionate about his profession. And ethical. He really did train as a surgeon and as an apothecary in England and Scotland. Talk to him. Please. Give him a chance. If you still don’t like him, I’ll see what I can do to make him leave Cryptic Cove, if he doesn’t leave on his own volition.”

  Her resulting sigh was long and heartfelt. “Alright. I’ll give him five minutes. But if I don’t like what he says, I want to reserve the right to stomp on his instep.”

  “Do you want me to come with you? You can go with me to the copper foundry and then we’ll walk over to see Doc Elroy.”

  “No. I don’t want you to come.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want your interference.” When he started to protest, she held up her hand. “This is my problem, something you don’t understand because you weren’t there when I lost my stepsister. You are not me. So it’s something I have to come to terms with by myself, without your judgment.”

  He sighed. “Just don’t cause too much trouble, little Rabble-Rouser. No instigating a physical fight. And try to be diplomatic.”

  “What’s the fun in that?” She rolled off Jack and the bed to go in search for her clothing. Smiling, she recalled how they’d both flung each other’s clothes haphazardly to various places in the one-room apartment.

  By the time she laced up her corset, pulled on her pantaloons, put on her petticoats, threw her dress over her head and laced up her lady’s boots, Jack had already dressed and was long gone. Typical. Why women had to wear layers of clothing — and dresses! — she didn’t know. It wasn’t fair.

  Jack’s pile of clean clothing on top of his dresser drew her attention. He must have left them there after Betty delivered them earlier that day. He had pushed aside her curios and whatnots to make room. Why he didn’t put the clothing in his chest of drawers was beyond her comprehension. As she sorted the shirts, socks, and trousers into their appropriate drawers, she admitted to herself that she was procrastinating. She didn’t want to visit Hancock.

  She twisted her hair into a bun, leaving a few strands to dangle around her face and then opened the door to the outside. Wispy clouds now covered the sun, muting the light.

  The gift from Doc Elroy that Rush had left on the stoop had gotten wedged between two wooden slats, and she almost kicked it. Uma glanced at it and then bent down to pick it up. It was a daguerrotype
of the doc standing with her mother in front of a caravan with the word Cojocaru painted on its side. So, he thought he could bribe her into coming? He thought she would be so hungry for stories about her mother that she would stop by for a visit? And forget what had happened to her stepsister, Tiffany? The notion burned.

  She tossed the picture inside the apartment, not caring where it landed, walked outside and then went down the stairs. She would still see the doc, if only to appease Jack. But she would certainly take her time. Having Doc Elroy wait for her wouldn’t kill him.

  She found a few Cryptians sitting on the porch in front of Thistle Do Nicely. Rick Ridley, Cojocaru’s main musician, was polishing his violin and working on the strings. His violin bow leaned against his chair. The long-retired trick horse rider, Harvey ‘Wild Hog’ Harper, and now the town drunk, sat in a rocker with his hat pulled down over his eyes, a half-empty bottle of whiskey next to his seat.

  Lala sat with the young man from Hancock’s show, the assistant she’d seen with Angela. Lala held his hand, palm-up, and followed a crease as she spoke. “… heart line shows that you are open and have an overall warmth. You think that there is such a thing as a perfect relationship, which could be your downfall. Once you discover there is no such thing as a perfect love, you will tend to be overbearing with spurts of jealousy that can lead to trouble.”

  “Perfect relationships are a reality,” the young man said, his chestnut-colored brows bunching over his straight, slim nose. “A person merely needs to be patient and alert to know when he … or she finds that perfection.”

  Uma halted on the boardwalk and shook her head. “Believe me, nothing is perfect. Even I know that, and I’m a newlywed. I mean, Jack and I are nearly perfect, but we still have to compromise, to work at our relationship.”

  Releasing the young man’s hand, Lala said, “This is Cyril Eley. Meet Uma MacKissick.”

  “You were involved in the melee with Orlando Cruz and the charlatan,” Uma replied, holding her hand out toward Cyril. He shook it, his lips curving as he did so.

  “And you were the one who stepped into the melee to … what? Participate? But the man with the badge pulled you away.”