by Jo Goodman
“Good. Mr. Reasoner? Shall I leave the pot with you?”
“If no one else is drinking it, then yes.”
She set the pot on the table. “How are you gentlemen liking Mrs. Sterling’s stew?”
“It’s very good,” Jones said. He made a circling gesture with his hand to indicate the other diners. “Is it what brought the crowd in?”
“I’d have to say it’s the dumplings. They’re a particular favorite.”
Reasoner added sugar to his tea. “I don’t see your husband here this evening, Mrs. Coltrane.”
“He’ll be along directly.”
Mr. Jones put down his spoon and dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “I saw him this morning when I was taking my walk. I noticed he was talking to a number of people. He must be working very hard on his story for the World.”
“He’s finishing some of the interviews for something he calls background. Some of the folks were reluctant to talk to Kellen after they saw him on friendly terms with Eli Burdick.”
“Yes, well, about the Burdicks,” Jones said. “I want to explain about yesterday.”
“There’s no need. I have the story from Deputy Sugar.”
“Still, I feel as if I owe you some sort of explanation myself. I know there’s bad blood between you and the Burdicks. I didn’t know the particulars until the deputy shared them with me. I’ve been thinking that perhaps I shot and killed the wrong man.”
“There’s no perhaps about it, Mr. Jones, but I understand you thought you had your reasons to do as you did. I don’t hold it against you. You’re not from around here. It wasn’t Dan Sugar’s place to tell you anything.”
The tips of Jones’s delicate ears reddened. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Coltrane. I thought you’d want to hear it from me.”
Mr. Reasoner turned in his chair to squarely face Raine. “I considered Ben Petit a friend,” he said. “But I can tell you that John Paul was right to do what he did. Ben should not have threatened Mr. Burdick. When he did that, he put all of our lives in danger. I do not believe Isaac Burdick would have been satisfied with killing Ben. Neither John Paul nor I would have come back to town yesterday. At least not alive.”
Jones nodded gravely. “It’s true.”
“I don’t own a gun,” Reasoner said. “I was without defense.”
“I did not aim to kill,” said Jones. “I couldn’t have. Mr. Petit stepped into the shot when he took aim at Isaac Burdick.”
Raine said, “I’ll tell Mrs. Sterling that you approve of her stew.”
Kellen stepped into the dining room in time to see Raine turning sharply away from the table occupied by Jones and Reasoner. It was immediately clear to him that something had put her back up. He raised his hand to get her attention.
Raine greeted him with a forced smile. “You can sit anywhere you like as long you don’t mind the company and the company doesn’t mind you.”
“Good evening to you, too,” he said softly, aware that the diners had become his audience. “Am I allowed to kiss you?”
“Only if you want frostbite.”
He chuckled. “I’ll take my chances.” He pecked her on the cheek and then began removing his gloves. “It looks as if Jack and Howard are inviting me to sit with them. I think I’ll take them up on it.”
“You do that. I’m hearing a lot of talk about The Chinese Box. Did you give everyone in town a copy?”
“Gave away some here and there today.”
“And I thought you were doing interviews. Do you want me to take your coat? I can put it in the kitchen until you go upstairs.”
He shook his head. He pecked her cheek again, but this time he whispered, “I’m wearing a gun belt.”
Raine stiffened but made no comment about it. “Go on. Sit down. I’ll see that someone brings a bowl of stew.” She plucked the hat from his head as he started past her and dusted snow off the crown on her way to the kitchen.
Some folks left for home after dinner; others moved into the saloon. Kellen helped Walt return the table and chairs before he went to the third floor. Raine was already there. He surprised her while she was deep in thought and pacing the area in front of the sofa.
“You forgot to lock the door again,” he said, turning the key.
Raine turned on him. She started to rest her hands on her hips, thought better of it, and let her arms fall loosely to her sides. Without preamble, she asked, “What are you up to?”
He pulled his gloves out of his pocket and set them on the entry table. “I came for my gun.”
She stared at him. She could not see a gun belt for his long, leather coat. “Aren’t you still wearing it?”
Kellen spread his duster and showed her. “I came for the other Colt.” He headed for the bedroom before she blocked his path.
Raine ran to the doorway after him. “Why are you wearing a gun? Why do you need another?”
Kellen knelt beside the bed and reached under it. He found his bag on the first swipe and pulled it out. He opened it, took out the Colt, and checked its load before slipping it under his coat and into his trousers at the small of his back. He stood.
“Did you never think it would come to this?”
“Not today. I didn’t think it would be today.”
“And maybe it won’t. It depends on the Burdicks. The snow might keep them away.”
“You think they plan to come into town this evening?”
“After what happened at the lake? Yes, I do. Uriah will have something to say to Jones. I’m guessing he’ll send Eli and Clay to do his talking for him. I wouldn’t be surprised if Uriah invites the surveyor out to the spread after all. He might think John Paul’s earned himself a visit for saving Isaac.”
“So what if they do come?” she asked. “You can sit with them, talk to them the same as you usually do. You don’t have to confront them. You don’t have to start trouble. I know you’re thinking about it; otherwise you’d have no use for the guns.”
Kellen closed the distance between them and put his hands on her shoulders. “We have an agreement, Raine. Shall I show you your own letters? You thought this all through once before. Don’t back away from it now.”
“I didn’t think this through,” she said. “I couldn’t anticipate falling in love with my hired gun. How could I have imagined that?”
He squeezed her shoulders. “I have to do this, Raine. I wish you weren’t afraid. If it helps, I won’t be alone.”
“What does that mean? Who is going to step up to help you?”
“Not me,” he said. “You. That’s why they’ll do it. For you and for themselves and their families.”
She thought about the crowded dining room. “Is that why so many folks showed up for dinner tonight?”
“I think it was Mrs. Sterling’s stew. Or maybe her dumplings.”
Raine shook off his hands. “I suppose you think you’re amusing. You’re not.”
Kellen did not pretend to be contrite. “Listen to me. I’m not turning away from this, and I’m not telling you that you have to stay here.”
“I wouldn’t do it anyway.”
“Exactly. Allow me to do what I came to do.”
She swiped at a fiery copper curl that fell over her forehead when she set her jaw. “I lost my mother, my brother, and my sister in what seemed like the blink of an eye. They were everyone I cared about. Everyone. I don’t want to lose you. I won’t lose you.”
“No,” he said. “You won’t.”
Raine closed her eyes a moment. “Oh, God.” She wrapped her arms around her chest and stared at him. “I want it to be over.”
“I know. So do I. We’re not alone in wanting that, Raine. Trust me. Trust the people who stood up for Ellen to stand up for you. They owe it to themselves to see it through.”
She nodded slowly, faintly. “All right.” Her lips moved to shape the words, but there was hardly a sound to accompany them. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
And so he did.
Walt sidle
d up to Raine behind the bar and took the empty glass out of her hand. “You can’t clean it any better than you already have,” he said. He set it down out of her reach. “Give me that rag, too, before you scrub the varnish off the bar.” He put out his hand, palm up, and Raine gave it to him. “Are you all right? You’re about as skittish as an unbroken filly.”
“Am I?”
“Yes, ma’am. I never saw you spill more than a couple drops of liquor in an evening, and you’ve wiped up at least two thimbles’ worth since you came back here. Why don’t you go sit with Mr. Coltrane for a spell? I’ll take care of things here. Charlie’s in this evening. Beat the weather. He can help me.”
Raine shook her head. Her eyes darted across the saloon to where Kellen was sitting with Richard Allen and the Davis brothers. The five of them were playing a variation of Red Dog that Kellen taught them. Only low stakes were permitted and Jem had to promise at the outset that he wouldn’t pick a fight with his brothers or anyone else. Thus far, the occasional burst of laughter aside, none of them had raised more than a murmur and a few chips.
Every man Kellen had spoken to was in her saloon. That made it no different than most evenings at the Pennyroyal, but because Kellen had talked to the men before they came, it made their presence extraordinary in Raine’s eyes. Matt Sharp beat the weather, too, arriving ahead of Dave Rogers and Terry McCormick, who only had a short walk to the saloon. Matt was resting an elbow at the end of the bar, drinking a sarsaparilla with no alcohol in the brew and listening to Ted Rush discuss the blizzard of ’86, just as if Matt had not lived through it along with everyone else in Bitter Springs.
“I’ll stay right here, Walt,” she said. “I think it’s the snow rolling in that’s making me feel as if there are ants crawling under my skin. I like the snow just fine until I’m hip deep in it.”
“Now it ain’t that kind of storm coming this way. We’ll have a few inches by morning and that’ll be it.”
“How do you know?”
Walt shrugged. “Just do. And it’ll relax you some if you believe me.”
Smiling, Raine laid a hand on his forearm. “You’re right. Sometimes it’s simply better if you believe it is. Thank you.” She turned to Charlie Patterson as he bellied up to the bar. “A beer, Charlie?”
“Sure. I was wondering if you’d let Sue have a turn at the piano. You have Renee and Cecilia taking drinks to the tables. I thought it would cheer the place a bit and give Sue something to set her mind on. She’s a little tetchy tonight and won’t say a word about it. The only one with something to talk about is Ted Rush. I reckon he’s the only one that doesn’t mind that snow’s comin’.”
Raine cast her glance around again and realized Charlie was right. The conversation in the saloon was at a low hum. Everyone had a drink, but not everyone was drinking. “An excellent idea. Why don’t you escort Sue to the piano and help her out? I know for a fact she likes that. Here, don’t rush off without your beer.” She crooked a finger at him and got him to lean toward her across the bar. “You might want to think about asking her to marry you before winter comes and goes.”
Blushing deeply, Charlie grabbed his beer and hurried away.
“Now, you shouldn’t have gone and embarrassed the boy,” Walt said.
“Someone’s got to put a burr under his saddle. Sue’s not going to be satisfied with him turning pages for her for the rest of her life.”
Walt chortled. He took a swipe at the beer stain left on the bar when Charlie hightailed it and then poked one corner of the rag under his belt so his hands were free. “What can I get you, Mr. Reasoner?” he asked as the Englishman stepped up to the bar. “A dram of whiskey for your tea?” Walt’s attempt to mimic the man’s accent fell flat with the man himself, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Raine smile, and that had been his purpose all along.
“Just a whiskey, Walter,” Reasoner said. “And another for my friend, Mr. Jones.”
“Coming right up.”
Reasoner addressed Raine while Walter was pouring the drinks. “I was wondering what is to become of Ben Petit’s photographs, Mrs. Coltrane. I understand you felt a need to pack and store his belongings, but most particular care should be taken with the photographs. I would be grateful for the opportunity to look through them and choose a few from among the dozens that we took together. I also know which ones he still wanted to send to the Eastern periodicals. It would be a privilege to do that on his behalf.”
“You’ll allow me some time to consider your request, won’t you? You don’t really have any tie to Mr. Petit beyond knowing him as a fellow guest and companion these last few months. I’m sure you appreciate that I want to make certain there is no family claim to his belongings.”
“I do not believe I ever heard him speak of family beyond being a widower. There were some children, all dead young. Very sad. I always thought that having no one in the East was what brought him here.”
“We know Mr. Petit was from Appomattox, Virginia, and we delivered enough packages for him to know where to send inquiries in New York City. I want to know that I’ve done everything I can to be sure his belongings, especially his photographs, go to his relatives, however few or distant they might be.”
“Admirable, Mrs. Coltrane. Admirable.” He picked up both whiskey glasses. “I would still like to have a few photographs for myself. I do not imagine any family he might have would begrudge me that.”
“Perhaps not, Mr. Reasoner. Let me think on it, please. I’ll give you my answer tomorrow.”
“Very well.” He looked Walt over. “You are keeping them safe?”
“Yes, sir. Got them put away. Ain’t no one going to bother them.”
Mr. Reasoner nodded. “Thank you.”
As soon as he was out of earshot, Walt whispered to Raine, “Did I do right letting him think I still have them? Seemed to me that I should.”
“Yes, Walt. You did right.”
Walt and Raine set more drinks on the bar when Renee returned with a request from Dick Faber and the men he had enjoined to play poker with him. Sue was at the piano playing Stephen Foster favorites. Charlie no longer needed her cues to know when to turn the pages. The customers sitting close to the piano had turned their chairs to face it. Some of them tapped their heels; others hummed along. Conversation in the saloon began to rise to its normal pitch, and the good-natured ribbing and laughter that most times accompanied it finally returned this evening.
Walt said, “You suppose they’re worried about the weather or expectin’ someone?”
Raine blinked. “What?”
Walt lifted his chin to indicate the crowd while he continued to clean out a glass with his rag. “I’m makin’ an observation. Seems to me a lot of folks got their minds in two places tonight. Thought it could be the weather since that always stirs people to sit indoors and look out. Also thought maybe someone’s expected. I didn’t hear a noise about Uriah Burdick coming this way.” He winked at her. “But there’s always people that know something I don’t.”
Walt’s wink did not calm her nerves. She turned away from the bar to straighten liquor bottles and looked over the saloon from this new perspective. Walt was right. She watched long enough to be aware that certain men—the same men Kellen had invited to join him tonight—were taking a moment now and again to glance at the doorway. On any other evening, it might have been the falling snow that drew their eyes toward the street, but Raine knew that was not the case now.
She watched Kellen longer than she watched any of the others. He sat with his back to the doors and never once showed an interest in who came through them. He happened to look up once while she was watching him in the mirror. Their eyes met briefly. His smile lingered longer.
She wanted to throw something at him.
Raine let Walt stay at the bar while she went into the storeroom to retrieve a few bottles of ginger beer and another sarsaparilla. She came out holding two bottles in each hand and found herself squeezing the necks more tightly w
hen the Burdicks brought the weather in.
A gust of wind carried a flurry of snowflakes to the tables on either side of the doors. Someone started to call out to shut the doors but stopped when he saw who was coming through them. Most of the men caught by the gust and flurry simply turned up the collars on their coats.
Eli and Clay did not arrive alone. Four of their ranch hands followed them inside. Wind and snow eddied around them until the last one in pulled the doors shut.
Eli took off his hat, shook it, and used it to flag Raine. “Hey, Lorrainey. We brought some thirsty tanks to fill. Why don’t you set them up with beers and whiskey all around? Fellas, you take that table over there.” He pointed to the one occupied by Jones and Reasoner. “You gentlemen don’t mind, do you? No, stay where you are. These boys will share. Drinks for the gentlemen, too, Lorrainey. Whatever they’re havin’.”
Clay brushed past his brother and waved Dick Faber and his fellow poker players out of their chairs. The men got up, although not as quickly as Clay wanted. He scowled at them.
Eli lifted his dark brows. “Apparently Clay’s found a table for him and me.” He gestured to his hands. “You go on over there. You gentlemen make these men feel welcome. Lorrainey, I think you might need to get a few more chairs. You’ve got some of your town folk standing around. That’s no way to treat your regulars like Mr. Faber here.” He nodded and smiled crookedly at Dick Faber.
Raine set the bottles on the bar and looked over at Walt. He did not require a word from her but immediately began walking in the direction of the dining room.
“You’ve been drinking, Eli,” said Raine. She began setting up drinks on a tray for the hands and motioned to Cecilia to come forward to get them. “I don’t suppose this is your first stop of the evening.”
“You’d be wrong on the second count. Right on the first.”
Clay gestured to Eli to come over to the table and sit.
“In a moment, little brother.” Eli slapped his hat back on his head. He looked around. “No reason for it to be so quiet in here. I ain’t exactly a stranger to you. Go on about your business.” His eyes fell on Sue at the piano. “I swear I heard music when I was outside. Go on. Play something. I like that ‘Old Virginny’ song. Play that one.”