Town Social

by Simmons, Trana Mae

  But, recalling Jake's words, she realized the ranger hadn't been sure Teddy's father was dead, despite what she had said to Cassie during their angry exchange. Perhaps there was a mistake

  — perhaps he was only extremely ill, or in some sort of catatonic state. She would have to wait to hear from Jake for a final resolution.

  Teddy twisted on the settee, but only snuggled down again, sniffing back a tortured sob. With tears misting her eyes, Sunny straightened the afghan before she left the parlor. In the kitchen, she filled a pan of water for the little dog waiting for Teddy out front and carried it to him. The dog's ears perked when she descended the steps and set the bowl down, but he kept a distrustful distance.

  She couldn't blame him. More than once she'd seen stray animals miserably mistreated.

  Sunny sat on the bottom step, wrapping her arms around her knees and staring in the direction she'd seen Teddy running from a while ago. In a moment, she saw a figure walking back up the path, but the man was too short to be Jake, and he limped. She watched him pass the stable on the edge of town and cross the open space to where the boardwalk began in front of the first store on that side of the street. He glanced over at her briefly and nodded before continuing on his way.

  The little dog whined, drawing Sunny's attention. Tail tucked between his legs, he cautiously crept closer to the water pan. When she murmured a sympathetic sound, he trotted on up to the pan, his tail floating out behind him, waving tentatively. After satisfying his thirst, he cocked his head and whimpered.

  "Come here, boy." Sunny held her hand out, and the dog bounded up to her. Laying a hand on his head and scratching behind one ear, she said, "Guess you haven't had an easy life either, have you, boy? You've probably been yelled at and chased off, when all you were doing was trying to clean up the scraps somebody tossed out. Hum?"

  His tongue came out in a pant, and he leaned against her hand. When she withdrew, he whined again and looked past her to the open doorway behind Sunny.

  "Teddy's sleeping, boy," Sunny murmured. "Don't worry, I'll take care of her. And you, too."

  Though he couldn't have possibly understood her words, her tone of voice must have soothed the dog. He collapsed at her feet, settling his muzzle on his paws. Instead of closing his eyes, though, he kept watch on the house.

  A wagon pulled into the street from the narrow alley running between the stable and stagecoach stop across the way, and Sunny's teeth clenched. The wagon was painted black, and the driver wore a severe black suit. He reined the black horse to the right, in the direction both Teddy and the limping man had come from.

  Sunny bowed her head for a moment. She hadn't known Teddy's father, but there had to be some redeeming qualities in the man. After all, he'd left behind a precocious, wonderful daughter. When she opened her eyes, she noticed she still wore the yellow dress and became aware of the stiff material on her bodice, where Teddy's tears had quickly dried in the heat outside the house. With a sigh, she stood and went back in to change.

  Cassie's bedroom door remained closed, but when Sunny checked the parlor after she'd changed into a plain, gingham gown, she found Teddy stirring. She could tell the moment the little girl came fully awake. Teddy's blue eyes flew open, searching the room until she saw Sunny.

  "Pa?" she asked hesitantly.

  Sunny crossed to the settee and sat beside Teddy, searching for the words she needed. But Teddy read the silent message, and her face crumpled. Throwing herself into Sunny's arms, she clung tightly, miserably. Far sooner than Sunny expected, she pulled away and wiped the back of her hand across her nose.

  "I . . . I guess there's things I gotta do, huh?" she said in a quiet voice. "Pa . . . he'll have to be b . . . buried."

  A mixture of pride and compassion swelled in Sunny's heart as she gazed at the tiny child struggling to master what had to be overpowering grief and worry about her own future. Taking the small hands in her own, Sunny squeezed gently.

  "Will you let me help you, Teddy? Please? I want to be your friend."

  Teddy nodded gratefully. "T . . . there's a suit Pa wears sometimes," she said, still speaking of her father in the present tense. "He'd probably like to be a'wearin' it. But how do we do that?"

  Sunny heard the sound of the wagon coming back into town, and quickly stood to protect Teddy from seeing out the parlor window. "Let's go into the kitchen and talk, all right, Teddy? There's a person in town called an undertaker, and he'll handle everything for you. We just have to tell him what you want done."

  Teddy slid from the settee and preceded Sunny into the kitchen, where she climbed into the same chair she'd used for breakfast. "Where's Miz Foster?" she asked.

  "Um . . . resting in her room," Sunny explained, which seemed to satisfy Teddy. Knowing there wasn't anything else in the kitchen to offer Teddy, she poured her a glass of buttermilk, then took an apple from the bowl on the counter. While Teddy dispiritedly nibbled on the apple and drank a few sips of milk, Sunny gently led her through the necessary preparations for the funeral.

  They were interrupted soon by a tap on the back door.

  "I'm Ruth Hopkins," the gray-haired woman said as she walked into the kitchen in response to Sunny's motion. Sunny introduced herself as Jake Cameron came in behind Ruth, his hat in his hand for once. Ruth set a covered dish on the table and Jake sat down beside Teddy, laying his hat aside.

  "You were right, Teddy," he said tenderly, cupping her small shoulders. "Your Pa's gone. I wish I didn't have to say that to you, but it's true."

  A tear rolled down Teddy's cheek as Ruth gazed kindly at her. "Teddy, I'm very sorry about your father. You've been a big help to me at times, sweeping out the store when your father would let you. I'd like you to come over and pick up a dress I have that I think will fit you. You can wear it to the services."

  "But . . . but you already paid me the last time I swept up for you, Miz Hopkins," Teddy said with a sniff.

  "I know," Ruth replied. "The dress is a gift. Please accept it."

  "I'll bring her over after while," Sunny murmured.

  "I'll be watching for you." Ruth stroked Teddy's matted hair, then patted Jake on the arm. "Let me know if there's anything else I can do, Ranger," she said, turning to leave. "And you, too, Miss Fannin. I think a lot of little Teddy."

  "I will," Sunny agreed. "Thank you so much for coming by."

  As soon as Ruth was gone, Teddy swallowed back her sobs and looked up at Jake. "I already knew, Ranger Jake. Miss Sunny and me have been talking about what needs to be done."

  Jake glanced questioningly at Sunny. "I saw the wagon leaving town," she explained. "Will you please assure anyone who asks that I'll keep Teddy here with me for now? She'll be taken care of."

  Teddy tugged on Jake's sleeve. "Ranger Jake, will I get to see Pa at least one more time?"

  Sunny clapped a hand over her mouth to still her protest as Jake nodded in reply.

  "If that's what you want, Teddy. I'll come get you when it's time for you to do that."

  Sunny walked over to the counter and gripped the edge tightly as she listened to Teddy explain to Jake where in

  the shack he would find the suit her father would want to wear. A vision of her mother's body in the satin-lined coffin swam in her thoughts. She knew exactly how hard it would be for Teddy to see her father in the same way, but she also realized she had no right to deny Teddy her final goodbye, no matter how young Teddy was. Instead she tried to focus on what Jake was telling Teddy — the time of the services tomorrow would be at ten o'clock in the morning.

  "I'm going over to talk to the minister again now," Jake said as he rose to his feet. "I'll let him know that I've spoken with you. Is there anything special you'd like him to say at the services?"

  "Guess he'll know best," Teddy said. "Me and Pa, we didn't go to church much. Only prayer I remember is the one I say 'bout laying down to sleep at night."

  Jake bent and hugged Teddy, then picked up his hat. With a nod at Sunny, he walked toward the kitchen
door. She forced her hands loose from the counter and went after him. When she quietly called his name, he paused on the back porch.

  "I want to thank you for being so caring with her," Sunny said. "And I'll go with you to the funeral home when you take her over there. She might need me."

  "She needs everyone willing to help her through this around her right now," Jake agreed. "But you look awful shaky. Are you sure you want to put yourself through what might be an ordeal at the undertakers? I can handle it alone, if you'd rather."

  Sunny clenched her hands in front of her. "My . . . my own mother died just three months ago," she revealed. "Yes, it will be hard for me, but I want to do it for Teddy. Besides, you'll be with us."

  Jake stepped close to her, reaching for her hands and pulling them apart. Gripping them gently, he lifted them with a compassionate squeeze. The whiskey eyes beneath his hat brim were soft with sympathy, which Sunny sensed came honestly from his heart, and she caught herself wishing desperately she had found the same empathy in her aunt upon her arrival.

  "I'm sorry about your mother," Jake said. "Knowing that, I realize you deserve a lot of respect for what you're doing for Teddy." He released her hands and they fell limply to her sides. "And yes, I'll be with you both."

  He strode down the steps and around the side of the house. Sunny vaguely wondered why both he and Ruth had used the back door, but his promise to assist her and Teddy through the coming hours overrode that questioning thought. He seemed to have a depth to him she had overlooked thus far. A steady, considerate presence such as his would have been appreciated in her own grief-stricken days.

  And this was definitely not the time to wonder why she could still feel his gentle touch on her hands, though he had disappeared.

  ~~

  The black wagon, now holding a pine box in the bed, turned off the main street and stopped in the intersecting side street running beside Cassie's house at exactly ten o'clock the next morning. As Sunny had learned from Cassie the previous evening, the church was located a few hundred yards down that street. Her aunt had declined to attend the services, however. Had Teddy not been sitting there at the time, she supposed Aunt Cassie would have grimly reminded her that the responsibility for the orphaned girl was Sunny's, not hers. Cassie did follow them out onto the porch this morning, nodding at the undertaker on the wagon seat, and also at Jake when he walked over to meet them. Then she disappeared back into the house.

  Teddy squeezed Sunny's hand tightly while Jake escorted them over behind the wagon. There didn't seem to be anything to say, and they followed the slowly moving wagon to the church, where it turned into the graveyard gate. Several people already waited for them beside the open grave, but Sunny concentrated on Teddy instead of greeting them. The little girl's grip on her hand had become painful, and she couldn't bring herself to draw away.

  She led Teddy over to the grave as the preacher and an older, balding man Sunny thought looked somewhat familiar came forward to help Jake and the undertaker with the casket. As soon as the casket was lowered into the grave and the ropes holding it removed, the preacher began his service.

  Teddy's hair streamed down her back, the sunshine turning it to molten gold. Once during the preacher's brief ceremony, she unconsciously ran her free hand across the bodice of the pretty gray dress Ruth had given her from the general store stock. Her face was still puffy and tear streaked, since she had continued to weep off and on for the rest of the previous day and all morning.

  "Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust," the preacher intoned. He scattered a handful of dirt on the pine coffin, glancing at Sunny when his hand was empty.

  Sunny led Teddy forward. She handed the wildflowers they had picked early that morning to Teddy and, as she had told the child to do, Teddy dropped them into the grave. Then Teddy turned and buried her face in Sunny's skirt.

  After a final prayer, the preacher indicated the service was concluded. Sunny lifted Teddy into her arms and started walking away. She would not let the child stay to watch the dirt being shoveled into the grave. She hadn't been able to bring herself to watch that procedure at her mother's grave either.

  Outside the gate once again, she paused to speak to the townspeople who had followed her and Teddy. She recognized the stable owner, John, who had led the change of teams out to the stagecoach when she arrived two days ago, and knew from Jake that Teddy's father had worked for him. Ruth's husband, Fred, accompanied her, mumbling at one point about leaving the store unattended until he realized Sunny could hear him. Ruth's dig in the ribs with a not-so-gentle elbow shut him up.

  Ruth had been the only one from town who called at Aunt Cassie's house yesterday. On their visit to the store, she'd also sent home a picnic basket full of food with Sunny, which still remained nearly untouched at the house.

  "How you doing this morning, Teddy?" Ruth asked.

  Teddy responded by bending forward and hugging Ruth's neck tightly, also shyly greeting Fred.

  The older, balding man who had helped with the casket had stayed behind, and Sunny saw him pick up a shovel to help the undertaker. She quickly shifted away from the sight, recalling now where she had seen the man. He was the one with Jake outside the jailhouse the previous morning.

  The only other woman at the service had stood off to the side. She wore a plain brown gown and she didn't stop to offer condolences. Instead she nodded and gave Teddy a comforting smile as she passed. Her subdued bonnet failed to detract from the abundance of shining red hair. Though her face remained solemn in respect for the service she attended, no one could miss the clear green color of her eyes. Jake and John spoke a murmured hello to her, but when Fred glanced her way, Ruth gave her husband another none-too-gentle nudge in the side.

  After a moment, Ruth acceded to Fred's insistent tug on her arm and started back down the road, with John trailing along behind them. With a promise to the preacher to bring Teddy to church on Sunday, Sunny followed. Jake fell in beside Sunny, reaching out a hand to smooth Teddy's cheek.

  "How are you, darlin'?" he asked the little girl.

  "Will my pa be able to get out of that hole and find his way to Heaven?" Teddy asked.

  A wrenching sob caught in Sunny's throat, and her eyes blurred with tears. She stumbled slightly, and Jake placed a steadying arm around her waist. Gratefully, she glanced up at his face.

  "Hang in there, Sunny," he murmured, and Sunny immediately felt a measure of comfort.

  To Teddy, Jake said, "Darlin', your pa's already in Heaven. That's just the body he left behind there in the grave. His soul's gone on ahead."

  "I know what a soul is, but I'd forgot about that," Teddy replied. "Once in a while, when Pa would try to get off the jug, we'd go to one of them tent meetings. We used to have some good times for a while after that, but he always ended up drinkin' again."

  "Try to remember the good times," Sunny told her. "Those will always be precious memories for you."

  "All right," Teddy said. "But . . ."

  She stared back over Sunny's shoulder, toward the graveyard. Since she was becoming heavy in her arms, Sunny put her down, both to relieve the strain and to hide the sight behind them. It would take the undertaker and the other man quite a while to fill the grave.

  Instead of walking on, Jake stopped beside them. "What were you starting to ask, Teddy?"

  When she hung her head, her tiny figure a picture of dejection, Jake tucked his index finger beneath her chin and gently lifted her face up. The contradiction of that large male hand next to Teddy's piquant face found a place in Sunny's mind. It seemed impossible for such a huge man to act so tenderly, speak so softly. There were inner depths to this man, she thought to herself. Deep depths.

  "Teddy?" Jake murmured.

  She wiped the heels of her palms across her eyes, then stared up at Jake with a heartbroken expression. "What's gonna happen to me now, Ranger Jake? You . . . you think someone might give me a job in town? I gotta take care of my dog, Rowdy, you know. He ain't got no one else."<
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  Sunny's heart broke into a million pieces. Her eyes flew to Jake's, and she noticed a suspicious mist in his depths, muting the whiskey color to a lighter brown. Her tears spilled over, streaming down her cheeks, her throat clogged too tight to speak.

  Jake knelt in the dirt and placed his large hands on Teddy's slight shoulders. "I promise you, Teddy, you will be taken care of," he growled in an emotion-laden voice. "And Rowdy, too. I don't want you to worry about it."

  "But I's the one who's gots to worry about it, Ranger Jake," Teddy said seriously. "You and Miss Sunny both been real nice to me, but you ain't my kin. I ain't got no kin now."

  "We might not be kin," Jake assured her, "but we're your friends. And friends stand by each other when bad things happen. Friends don't leave each other to face things all alone when they have problems."

  Smoothing a hand down Teddy's hair, Sunny finally found her voice. "I'm adding my promise to Ranger Jake's, Teddy. I'll see that you're taken care of. There are three bedrooms at my house, and one of them is yours for as long as you need it."

  "But Miz Foster don't like me being there," Teddy reminded Sunny, her solemn gaze fixed on Sunny.

  "That's my aunt's problem, not yours. The house belongs to me, also, and I have my own say about who shares it with me."

  "Thank you, Miss Sunny. Can I go tell Rowdy we don't have to worry about a place to live now?"

  "Sure, sweetheart," Sunny agreed. "But be back in a little while. I'll worry about you if you're gone too long."

  Teddy nodded, then walked away, searching for the little dog, which was never very far from her. She spotted him sitting on down the street, and her steps hastened toward him.

  "We need to talk about this, you know," Jake broke into Sunny's thoughts.

  "There's nothing to discuss," Sunny assured him. "She has no one else, and I'll see that she's taken care of. I won't stand for her being sent to a foundling home."

  "She might have a mother somewhere."

  "A mother?" Sunny gazed at him in astonishment. "If she does, that mother gave up all rights to her by walking out on her when Teddy was four years old! Teddy needs someone who won't leave her — who loves her enough to give her a decent life, instead of the neglected, abused life she's suffered so far. If her mother cared enough for her, she wouldn't have left her to that sort of life!"