As she passed Joe, she said softly, “Maybe a square dance or two. Please?”
The musicians began a square dance that mixed up all the partners and only brought her into occasional contact with Loomis. He seemed a little unsteady, probably from drinking. The next dance was a Virginia reel, and Kate was again grateful to Joe. Loomis was having a little trouble dancing in his spurs. Why he hadn’t taken them off? They had really big pointy wheels or whatever Monday called them.
Kate was crestfallen minutes later when Liza and the accordion player started a slow dance. Joe just looked at her, shrugged, and joined in the tune. O Lord.
Loomis moved in and held Kate close. He danced her clumsily but surely back to that darkened corner Becky had warned her about. He didn’t try to grope her as she’d expected. She still hadn’t figured out what to do if he did. Instead, he danced closer to her and in another moment made contact with her below the waist. Her eyes widened; he’d pressed his stiffened manhood against her hip and was now slyly rubbing it against her as he turned Kate’s back to the rest of the dancers, so no one could see what he was doing. He grinned obscenely, reeking of whiskey and chewing tobacco.
She tried to pull free, but he held her hand and waist in an iron grip and rubbed. He grinned, then smiled, rubbing and grunting again. Kate’s skirt and petticoat kept her from freeing a leg to knee him.
His jingling spurs gave her an idea. Kate reached her left foot behind his right and stepped down hard on the rowel of his spur. Yes, that was the word. She pressed the points into the gap between two planks. Then she suddenly shifted her weight forward, throwing Loomis off balance. He released her and staggered, trying to recover, but his right heel stayed stuck, and his other spurred heel rolled helplessly. He fell to the floorboards with a crash. The music stopped.
In the sudden silence, Kate announced loudly, “I fear Mr. Loomis has had too much to drink. Perhaps he should sit out a few dances.”
The musicians gamely played a few bars to end the piece. Crail came to help his friend up. They both looked murder in her direction. Kate shivered as they moved away. Becky had been talking to Jonah. They both looked at her now, Jonah with concern, but Becky nodded approval and winked.
Chapter 27
Saturday
Warbonnet
Monday returned to the festivities with his ticket for three dances with Kate. He watched the slim preacher rock back and forth in time to the music, swinging his arms slightly, as if imagining himself dancing. Barnes was watching Kate dance with Corey Masterson again.
He had a sudden impulse and decided to act on it. “Reverend Barnes, Jonah. Glad to see you’re still up. I been looking for you.”
“Oh,” Jonah said, turning, “did you have something to tell me? Something you want to confess?” There wasn’t a trace of humor in his voice. Monday was momentarily taken aback.
“Why, no. I wanted to offer you this here dance ticket I took off a man who was too drunk to enjoy it. He’s passed out back up the street.” Monday watched Jonah start to refuse, but then the preacher saw the initials on the ticket. Jonah looked like he was going through some argument with himself, reaching his hand out and then pulling back. Finally, he took the ticket.
“I’m much obliged to you, Marshal. I trust you looked after the poor man. I’m afraid I can’t reimburse him for this.”
“No fear there, Padre. I laid him out in the back of a wagon. He’s been paid for his ticket, though he may not notice that ’til morning. Go have a good time. You’ve been riding herd on that punchbowl and gun table most of the evening. I’ll watch them for a spell.”
Barnes moved to the group of waiting men, like he couldn’t believe his good fortune. Monday couldn’t believe he’d done it either. But it would give him a chance to see if Kate was as happy dancing with Barnes as she’d been with Corey. When Monday left town next week, it looked like she’d have plenty of forgiving friends and maybe a couple beaus to see her through.
Barnes turned out to be a good dancer, leading Kate easily through wide sweeps of the dance floor. Some of the other women and men applauded. Monday hadn’t expected that. Some things he did came out better—or worse—than he intended.
* * * * *
An hour and a half later, the saloon was doing great business, but the dance had broken up. The exhausted women had gone in. Monday escorted Jane Odom and Noah Crandall down to the bank to put away tonight’s earnings. A hundred and nineteen dollars and forty cents, she’d said. They seemed impressed by the amount, and said it was nearly twice what was raised last month. Noah said the building fund—open for just over two years—had several hundred dollars now.
After bank duty, Monday met Joe and Bull at the schoolhouse and helped them wrestle the piano inside for tomorrow’s church service. Then they brought in the benches. Taking up the flooring tonight would make too much racket. They’d use this makeshift stage tomorrow for the box lunch auction before putting it away. Monday wished them good night.
During his last two rounds, Monday had looked hard for a big black horse, but with no luck. Maybe the killer wasn’t a dancer or had the use of more than one horse. He went to check the side doors of the school. As he came around the back of the building, he found a small, huddled shape on the steps.
He caught his breath. Kate Shaw, her back to the door. She wasn’t moving. Was this what his dream had meant? No, the dress wasn’t the same color as the one in his dream. Monday knelt and touched her shoulder gently.
“Oh, hello, Monday. Is it morning already? What are you doing in my room?” Her voice sounded husky, like it had back at the ford. His heart skipped a beat.
“No, Miss Kate. Looks like you didn’t make it all the way home before you decided to go to sleep. Come on, let me help you.” He noticed she was barefoot.
“Ohhh! No, no, please. Don’t move me. My feet hurt so badly. I just sat down for a minute and took off my shoes to rub my feet. Then I found they’d swelled up so that I couldn’t get my shoes back on. You must leave me here ’til morning. I shall be all right.”
“Not hardly.” Monday thrust her shoes into one of her hands, bent, and scooped her up in his arms. She said to put her down, sure they would be seen. “No, Ma’am, not tonight. Everybody’s asleep by now.” He marveled at how light she seemed.
Monday’s right arm cradled her thighs. If he moved his other hand around a little, she was nearly asleep and would never know. He could just reach her left—
No, he told himself, looking down at her closed eyes. Her hair still looked like angel’s wings. He couldn’t even steal a kiss. It would break the spell. He tilted his head to feel the cool silk of her hair against his cheek. He ought to lock himself up in his own jail tonight for what he’d been thinking.
When they got to the boarding house, Monday set her down carefully on the front steps. He picked up some tiny pebbles and chucked a few up at a corner window. Buck’s face appeared after the second shower of stones. Monday pointed downstairs. Buck unlocked the front door and found Monday carrying Kate again.
“How did you get Buxton down here if everyone has gone to sheep? Sleep.”
“Secret code, known only to men and boys. Buck, you still got some warm water in the back?”
Buxton led them quietly to the darkened kitchen and lit a candle. Monday set Kate in a chair, then fetched a washtub and placed her feet in it. He put the back of his hand against the boiler the boy brought over.
“Only half full, Marshal. Otherwise, I couldn’ta lifted it.”
“Wait a second, Buck, then pour it in kinda slow.” Monday didn’t wait for permission and Kate didn’t seem to notice what he was doing. He reached up under her skirt and rolled her stockings down, took them off, and set them in her shoes. Then he nodded to Buck, who began to pour.
Kate’s eyes opened wide, her back arched, and she opened her mouth to scream as the lukewarm water rose around her toes. Monday put a hand over her mouth. Kate sank back into the chair with a sigh. Her eyes stayed
half open this time.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you. That’s exactly what I need. I’ve been visited by many angels this night, but only one devil. I sent him back down to where he came from. He’d better not touch me again.” Buck and Monday looked at each other. What was she talking about?
“Buck, it’s late for all of us. Reckon you can get Miss Kate up to bed after her feet feel better? Don’t forget to get her a towel.” Monday stood up.
“I won’t forget, Marshal. Thanks for waking me. Miss Kate sure talks funny when she’s sleepy. Bet it wouldn’t be so funny if she went upstairs by herself. She’d prob’ly go into her old room and Reverend Barnes is in there tonight. There’d likely be lots of noise come out of that.”
“Let’s keep everything quiet. See you at church tomorrow. I mean, later this morning.” He ruffled Buck’s hair and left.
Monday’s last visit to the saloon showed everything winding down there. Only a few miners left. Chet assured Monday he’d done the best night’s business ever.
“And with no breakage.” He grinned.
“Looks like everybody had a good time,” Monday said, and headed for the jail. He hadn’t danced with Kate after all, but in the minute he’d spent carrying her across the street, he’d held her closer than any dancer had that night. The combination of flowers and something else he’d smelled on her shawl assured him of the best possible dreams tonight.
Memories of the pleasant scents were wiped out a moment later, however, by smells of sweat, tobacco, and whiskey when Monday entered his office. Nothing seemed out of place. He looked in the empty cell. No one there. He undressed and prepared to climb into bed. Then the moon came out from behind a cloud and something on the bed looked wrong.
Monday lifted the blanket, then dropped it and went to the desk lamp, his hand shaking a little as he struck a match. He returned to the bed cautiously, but saw no suspicious outline under the blanket.
As he raised the blanket again, he saw it. Some two dozen holes had been made in his blanket, probably by a large knife, driving through the blanket, the sheet, and the mattress beneath. Torn ticking showed through. Somebody had been here, found him not at home, and left him a message. The terrible day Monday expected had started right here in this bed with that nightmare about Kate. Now it would end here, too. He blew out the lamp and crawled into bed.
Chapter 28
Sunday
Warbonnet
Kate played the last few bars of “All Things Bright and Beautiful.” She’d prevailed upon Jonah to substitute it for “Amazing Grace” as the first hymn of the morning.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Monday. She hoped he was concentrating on saving his soul and not on her profile in this borrowed gray dress, but he had a front-row seat. As Jonah rose to speak, she looked at the congregation and was pleased to see every bench taken, children sitting on the floor in front of the first benches, and people standing along the sides of the room. The front door and both side doors were open. Folks stood at the windows, too.
“Good morning. This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it. I’m pleased to see such a large turnout. The Lord loves a cheerful giver, and Mrs. Odom of the church finance board gave me some very gratifying numbers this morning. You all contributed more than a hundred dollars last evening to the building program through your donations at the dance.” Scattered applause erupted. Jane certainly wouldn’t approve of that.
“Now, I’ll read our first psalm selection this morning. I’ll call on some of you as we go.
“Psalm 138, beginning with the first verse.” He read the first few verses, on thanking God, calling on Him, and being answered and strengthened. Then he had Martha read the next three verses on the rulers of the earth singing God’s praises. “Now, Marshal Taggart, would you read verses seven and eight?”
Monday seemed surprised, but took the Bible from Martha. “Though I walk in the midst of trouble, thou wilt revive me: Thou shall stretch forth thy hand against the wrath of mine enemies, and thy right hand shall save me. The Lord will perfect that which con-cern-eth me: Thy mercy, O Lord, end-u-reth, endureth, forever. Forsake not the works of thine own hands.” He seemed nervous about reading aloud, but he hadn’t done badly, Kate thought.
After that, Jonah read the prayer list of those with recent illnesses or who had distant loved ones in need of prayers. He invited other names or concerns anyone might wish to add. Andy Sundquist asked for healing of his father’s broken leg. Ike Hauser asked for a safe journey for Roy Butcher, now returning from Laramie. Jane Odom asked for a safe journey for Mrs. Emma Taggart, who would soon be coming from Julesburg to join her husband. Kate thought she sounded awfully smug. Monday had his head bowed; she couldn’t see his expression.
Jonah then said a pastoral prayer, asking for forgiveness of sins. Toward the end, he prayed for all those concerns just raised and added some of his own. “Let’s all be thankful for the safe arrival in recent weeks of your servants Katherine Shaw and Samuel Taggart, valued new members of our community. Let’s pray also for the soul of Monday Malone, a victim of foul play.”
Kate was glad her head was bowed, so she wouldn’t have to meet Monday’s eye.
After a minute of silence, Jonah added, “Now let’s each ask God to forgive those sins which we committed in the last four weeks and to give us the strength to refrain from sinning in those ways again.” After another moment of silence, he led the Lord’s Prayer, then said “Amen.”
While the offering plate was passed, they sang “O God, Our Help in Ages Past.” Jonah named Psalm 139 and asked Kate to take the first six verses.
She stood and read, “O Lord, thou hast searched me and known me. Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising; thou understandest my thoughts afar off. Thou compasseth my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways. For there is not a word on my tongue, but, lo, O Lord, thou knowest it altogether. Thou hast beset me before and behind, and laid thine hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain it.”
Kate began to frown at the words. Why had he chosen this psalm and asked her to read that part? It dealt with telling the truth and God seeing what you were up to. And that part about wonderful knowledge she could not attain: Did it have to do with her education, or solving the murder? Could it mean she would never find out who the killer was?
As she stood there flustered, the congregation rose as Barnes read from the Gospel of John. As everyone sat down again, he began his sermon saying he tried out many of his sermons, prayers, and hymns on his horse and asked if anyone remembered his horse’s name.
“Saul,” shouted the children.
“That’s right. And do you recall why I named him that?”
“Because,” the children chorused, “you and Saul are always on the road to Damascus.”
That was Jonah’s theme, and he launched into the story of the blinding of Saul, his conversion to belief in Jesus Christ, and his renaming as Paul.
Taking a new name. Kate began to wonder again at his choice of lessons. Of course, Jonah was always on the road; that much was clear. But hadn’t he just had Monday read something about wandering, too? Here it was, back in Psalm 138: “Though I walk in the midst of trouble, thou wilt revive me.” “The wrath of my enemies.” “Lord, fulfill your purpose for me.”
When had Jonah chosen these verses? Did he know how appropriate the renaming of Saul would be for Monday pretending to be Sam Taggart? Did he think she was lying about Monday? Was that why he’d chosen the two of them to read these passages? Jonah hadn’t treated her as a Jezebel during the dance last night—far from it—and seemed to enjoy her company. She put the Bible down and paid attention to his strong finish.
“Lord, you know where each of us is in his or her own journey. You know if we need to be drowned in the waters of Jordan and reborn to faith in you. Whether we need to be struck blind on the road to Damascus and then restored to sight, to see you as our friend
and Savior. And if we are beaten, robbed, and left by the roadside, you sent us the ultimate Good Samaritan, who is really Jesus Christ.
“You know, we’ve heard that phrase ‘Good Samaritan’ so many times, that it’s lost the power Jesus meant it to have when he told that story. Samaritans were not known as a charitable people, so it was as if our Lord was saying to us today the Good Outlaw.” He looked at Monday, who suddenly looked up. “The Good Rustler.” Barnes looked at Dave Masterson, who frowned. “Or,” he said, looking all around the room, “the Good Indian. Jesus meant that story to remind us that some of those we expect to help us can let us down and some that we’ve scorned can be an unexpected source of aid. Now, please join me in a closing prayer.”
He led them in a short prayer, and Kate prepared to play the closing hymn. Would there be a message in that, too? As she started “Guide Me, O Thou Great Jehovah,” she thought the very title was again a message to them.
She sang, “Pilgrim through this barren land.
“I am weak, but thou art mighty;
“Hold me with thy powerful hand.”
It was almost as if Jonah knew what they were up to and was telling them to put their trust in the Lord if they wished their quest to be successful. She’d learned that “pilgrim” was another word Westerners used like “greenhorn”. Did that figure in his choice of this hymn, too? She finished playing and they all stood for the benediction.
“Each of us,” Barnes said, “will take his own nuggets of wisdom from today’s lessons. But just because some of the words speak to each of us differently, it doesn’t mean we’re alone in our journey. Besides the comfort the Lord offers us in the Holy Spirit, let us never forget to trust in each other as well. ‘The Lord moves in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform.’ Some of us will lean on others, and some of us will be needed as crutches for our neighbors.
Murder for Greenhorns Page 24