by Lauran Paine
Her brother arrived a few minutes later. He poured two stiff jolts, one for himself, one for Charley Waite, and dropped wearily down at the table. “I’ve had to take chickens, garden vegetables, homemade white lightning, even some pigs a time or two instead of money. Today I had a choice between probably never getting paid for delivering a baby, or accepting a horse. It’s a handsome seal-brown gelding.” He dropped the whiskey straight down, blew out a noisy breath, and looked at Charley as his sister piled two plates with food and put them on the table. “Charley, do you want to buy a good horse?”
Charley answered after a moment. “If he’s sound and don’t have a lot of bad habits, I’ll buy him. How much?”
“I charge four dollars for delivering babies.”
Charley frowned. “Any horse that’s standin’ up is worth more than four dollars, Walt. Do you know this horse?”
“Yes. Sue, where’s Charley’s supper?”
Before she answered, Charley explained that he and Button had eaten at the cafe. Then he repeated, “Do you know this horse?”
Doctor Barlow was pulling his chair closer to the table when he answered. “Yes. I’ve seen them ride and drive him. He’s strong and quiet, doesn’t bite or kick or buck, and I mouthed him; he’s seven years old.”
“Fifteen dollars, but I got to put some sweaty saddleblankets under him to try him first.”
Walt had his fork poised. “Fifteen dollars? All right. I took him down to board at the livery barn. Help yourself.” He started eating. After a while he said, “I thought you had some horses.”
“Yeah, we do have, somewhere out with the cattle.”
“Why do you need another one?”
Charley was leaning to retrieve his hat from the floor when he replied. “For your sister.”
Doctor Barlow did not stop chewing, nor even looked up. His reason was elemental: he had wondered if Charley Waite and his sister hadn’t been growing fond of each other, and since her return from the wagon trip he had noticed a slight change in her. She smiled more, laughed easily, and lighted up like a Christmas tree when she was talking about Waite and Button. Walt Barlow was not just a good general practitioner, but an experienced diagnostician. He could analyze all kinds of symptoms: not always symptoms of illness.
Chapter Twenty-five
Two Cigars
They left Walt to finish supper alone. Sue hadn’t really done much more than pick at her food, so when Charley was ready to leave and she said she’d see him out, her brother nodded and concentrated on his meal. He had been ravenous before the drink of whiskey, and it had only increased his hunger.
Outside, the day had ended and the evening was warm. There were stars in every direction, without any clouds. The moon was still a little lopsided, but it was pewter-bright.
Charley paused on the porch looking southward, down where a few lights showed the length of Main Street. He quietly spoke his thoughts. “It’s a nice town, Sue.”
She agreed. “I think it is. Charley, it occurred to me that people need something like that storm to rid themselves of inhibitions. You’re not a freegrazer to them anymore.”
He breathed deeply of the pure, faintly fragrant night air. She waited for him to speak. When he didn’t, she asked a question that had been in her mind for several days. “What will you do, you and Button?”
He turned toward her. “I don’t know. But once we’re shed of the cattle we’ll have time to figure it out.”
“Ranching, Charley?”
He ruefully smiled. “No, I’ve been handling cattle most of my life. I got to agree with something Boss said. Button shouldn’t grow up knowing nothing but livestock.”
“How about you?”
“When the cattle are sold I won’t have to worry about livestock anymore. Sue?”
“Yes?”
“There’s a harness shop in town.”
“Yes. Old Mister Garnet owns it.”
“Maybe he’d sell out.”
She smiled at him, softly. “Maybe. Walt’s been taking care of him for years. It’s not just his eyes; he has chest trouble every winter.”
He continued to gaze at her. “If you got any suggestions, I’d sure like to hear them.”
She didn’t have, but she had something else, so she said, “Just don’t leave.”
He moved to the porch railing toleanthere. “No, we’ll stay. Sue, if I was to ask you a question . . . ?”
“I’d answer it.”
“You never got married?”
It was not the question she expected. “No. I almost did once, back in Missouri. He died. That was a long time ago. Do you know how old I am, Charley?”
He’d never been able to guess ages in people. He could tell a horse by his teeth, but he’d heard that didn’t work with people. “I don’t care how old you are.”
“I’m not a girl, Charley.”
He grinned. “You sure fooled me. I thought you were. Maybe eighteen or nineteen.”
“Twenty-five. I’ll be twenty-six in three months. That’s an old maid.”
He still smiled. “Naw. If you’re an old maid, why then I got to be decrepit. Thirty-five.” He stopped smiling. “What’s age got to do with it?”
She moved from overhang shadows to moonlight. To Charley she looked eighteen, and beautiful. “I worry about you two, Charley. You and Button.”
“Well now, we worry about you.”
“Why?”
He’d had no trouble with words up to now. “Well, for one thing you didn’t own a horse.”
Her eyes widened.
“For another thing . . . you’re a mighty fine cook.”
“Anything else?”
“Yeah,” he replied, turning his head to look northward beyond town, where the distant mountains looked like smoke.
“Charley . . . ?”
“I’m thinking, Sue,” he said, still without looking at her. He let his breath out. “I busted a tooth one time back in Texas. A doctor had to whittle out the stump.” He abruptly swung back to face her, the hint of a grin on his face. “An’ I thought that was bad, but compared to this, it wasn’t bad at all.”
“Compared to what?”
“Well . . . tellin’ you somethin’ you might not want to hear, and ruinin’ a friendship.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“You won’t get mad?”
She sighed to herself. He was nice-looking, and considerate and generous. He was kindly. He was also as thick as an oak! “No, I promise not to get mad.”
“I’m in love with you. I been that way since you took care of Button. You’re the handsomest woman I ever saw. But you got a lot more than that.” He stopped.
She moved close to him at the porch railing. “Thank you,” she murmured. “Now can I tell you something?” She didn’t await an answer, because she knew he did not arrive at decisions quickly. “It was wonderful out there in that camp near the sump spring. I’ll remember that as one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. . . . Charley?”
“Yes’m?”
“Will you marry me?”
His jaw sagged. He stared. Finally he smiled. “That’s what I been building up to say.”
“I hoped you might be, but I’ve never been very good at waiting. Will you?”
“Yes, ma’am. First thing in the morning. Before breakfast. In fact, right now tonight if there’s a person in Harmonville.”
She leaned and kissed him gently. “There is a Methodist preacher in Harmonville. Could Button stand up with you? You’re supposed to have a best man.”
He laughed, thinking that when Button got back he would be faced with another step on his climb toward manhood. “I’d like that. Only he won’t be back for about three days.”
She already knew that; she’d been out there and back. “We can tell my brother. Tomorrow we can go see the preacher.”
He opened his arms, and she came up against him full length, her arms raised to his shoulders.
Her brother opened the
door and stood framed in the lamplight. He stood there like a tree for a moment, then stepped back and soundlessly closed the door. He looked at the parlor floor briefly, then went to his office for a cigar. For two cigars, he thought, before he started back to the front door.