Soiled Dove

by Brenda Adcock

Clare nodded and used the rifle to steady herself as she lay down on the quilt. Ino started to reach toward the neckline of her dress. He drew his hands back when Clare brought the rifle up again. “I won’t hurt you, senorita. I have to see if the bullet is still inside,” he said.

  She nodded and swallowed hard. He unbuttoned the neckline and bodice of Clare’s simple dress and pulled the material away as gently as he could. He rolled her onto her right side and checked for an exit wound. “It’s still inside,” he muttered.

  He rolled her onto her back again and covered her body except for the wound site. Clare blinked rapidly and looked up at him, her dark brown eyes determined. “Have you ever removed a bullet before?” she asked.

  “Si.” He reached down and picked up a bottle of whiskey he’d found in the wagon. He twisted the bottle open and lifted her head slightly. “Drink this. It will still hurt, but you won’t care as much,” he said as he lowered the bottle to her parched lips.

  The taste of the liquor burned her mouth and she coughed, causing pain to shoot through her shoulder. Ino continued to encourage her to drink until her saw her eyes beginning to become unfocused. “I am sorry, senorita,” Ino muttered. He downed a healthy swallow of the whiskey before pouring the remaining alcohol over her wound. As the whiskey burned into her shoulder, her scream died on her lips as she passed out.

  Clare groaned as she began to awaken once again. She felt a cool, rough hand press against her forehead. Her eyes snapped open and she tried to bring the rifle up to fire.

  “It’s okay,” he said softly, his hand pressing against the barrel of the rifle.

  “You’re still here?” she asked.

  “Si. I couldn’t leave you here alone for the coyotes,” he said with a shrug. “Wouldn’t be right.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And your honor is still intact,” he added with a smile. “You thirsty or hungry?”

  “Just thirsty.”

  Ino lifted Clare’s shoulders slightly and pressed a canteen to her mouth. “Where were you and your family headed?”

  “Trinidad,” Clare answered as she lay back down carefully. “My father bought some land about twenty miles outside of town from a land agent in Pennsylvaia so he could start a ranch.”

  “Now what you gonna do?”

  “Start a ranch,” Clare said. “And catch the bastards who killed my parents and brother.”

  “They long gone,” Ino said. “Where is this land your papa got?”

  “It’s on the deed, I guess.”

  “You rest the next day or two. Then I take you to Trinidad. Let the doc check my sewing. You can find out where the land is there. Someone will buy it from you.”

  “It’s not for sale,” Clare snapped. “It’s all I have now.”

  Ino scratched the stubble along his jawline. “A woman can’t own land unless she’s got a man.”

  “My father is dead, I inherit it.”

  “Then I wouldn’t tell no one your papa is dead.

  Homestead it maybe and live there a long time. Like a squatter, you know. Then maybe you can keep it.”

  Clare chewed her lower lip. “When we get to Trinidad, you can check at the land office and find out where the boundaries are for me. Tell them whatever you have to.”

  “I’m heading home to Texas,” Ino protested.

  “What you got there?”

  “Well, nothing, but I wasn’t planning to settle down.”

  “I ain’t asking you to marry me! Just to tell a little lie.

  Then you can be on your merry way back to Texas.”

  “You know anything about ranching?”

  “No, but I can learn. I’m a hard worker. You can teach me.”And Ino had been teaching her for the last twenty years. He was her friend, the person she trusted more than anyone else in the world, and the only one who knew all her secrets, good and bad.

  Clare slid beneath the water to wash away her unbidden tears. She hated the times she was alone with her thoughts. She had done everything she could to carry on her father’s dream and at every turn there was someone or something there to try to stop her.

  She survived the attack on her family. She’d survived attempts to run her off her land. She survived being alone. Survival was her penance and she would always do what she had to in order to earn forgiveness. Her failure to control her emotions and desires had led to the death of everyone precious to her. Surviving was hard, sometimes harder than dying.

  Clare rested her head on the back of the tub and stayed there until the water began to cool. Relaxing made her tired and she closed her eyes. The smiling faces of her mother, father, brother, and Annalee were joined by a new face. She rolled her head from side-to-side as Loretta Langford’s face joined the faces of those she had lost. Loretta was a beautiful young woman with wavy hair that reminded Clare of honey still on the comb. A deep rich amber.

  She opened her eyes and stood up quickly, grabbing a towel and drying her body. There was no reason to be thinking about a woman as young as Loretta Langford. At forty, Clare could easily be her mother. The woman was in her thoughts only because of what happened that evening. Nothing more. She and Ino would leave Trinidad early in the morning and she would never have to pay penance for the death of another person.

  Chapter Ten

  RESTED AFTER A good night’s sleep, Clare was up and dressed early the following morning. When she returned to the saloon at daylight, she found Ino, Frank, and Mavis sitting at a table in the saloon enjoying a cup of coffee.

  “I’m sure that’s better than mine,” she said as she joined them.

  “I’ll get you a cup,” Mavis said. “How about a plate of scrambled eggs to go with it?”

  “I wouldn’t turn it down. Thanks, Mavis.” Clare followed Ino’s eyes as he watched Mavis walk away.

  Without makeup and fancy clothes to enhance her looks or figure, Mavis was still a beautiful woman.

  “Did you have a good night’s sleep?” she asked Ino.

  “Off and on,” he answered with a silly grin on his face.“When are you gonna make an honest woman out of Mavis? She’s gettin’ too old for workin’ in this saloon.”

  Ino picked up his coffee cup and took a drink.

  “You’re a good boss, Clare, but I ain’t got nothin’ to offer a woman like Miss Mavis. She deserves more than a life scratchin’ a livin’ out of a piece of dirt.

  Hell, I ain’t even got a piece of dirt.”

  “Half the ranch belongs to you.”

  Ino shrugged her off. A few minutes later Mavis set a plate in front of Clare. She finished off her breakfast and took a deep breath. “That was delicious, Mavis.” She leaned back and drank her coffee, giving her food a minute to begin digesting. Finally she said,

  “Guess I’d better get over to the dry goods store and try to keep from smacking Horace in the face again.”

  On Clare’s previous trip to Trinidad she had gotten into an argument with Horace Barlow, the dry goods owner, over her order for more barbed wire.

  She was sure he was reporting her orders to Thaddeus Garner.

  “Try to control your temper and your mouth this time,” Ino said with a snicker.

  “I’ll get the wagon and horses and meet you there,” Frank said.

  “I’ll get them, Frank,” Clare said. “I want you to go to Pueblo before the branding starts. Maybe we’ll get a jump on the other ranchers. Get back as soon as you can.”

  “Okay, boss lady,” Frank said before downing the remainder of his coffee.

  The corners of Clare’s mouth twitched into the semblance of a smile. She pushed her hat down on her head and left the saloon. The dry goods store was a block south of the saloon and she could see its disagreeable owner setting his wares outside on the walkway. She slipped her fingers into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a receipt to confirm her order.

  “ARE YOU READY?” Hettie asked as she carefully placed her small hat on her head and pinned it down.

  “Where are we
going?” Loretta asked.

  “The dry goods store. I promised Cyrus I’d get some material for curtains in the parsonage.

  Something to match the furniture already there and make it look more inviting and pleasant.”

  The parsonage was located at the edge of town and the two women walked leisurely down the main street, looking more carefully into store windows along the way.

  “So what’s going on with you and Cyrus?” Loretta asked as she examined items in a store window.

  Hettie looked shocked. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Hettie. Cyrus is a good man. Surely you’ve noticed.”

  “I like Reverend Langford very much. But we haven’t been here long enough to meet very many people. I’m busy getting the school set up and learning about my new students. It doesn’t leave much time for anything else.”

  “I know Amelia doesn’t cook worth a damn and I’m at work most every day. Are you still cooking for them?”

  “I like to cook and can’t at the boarding house,”

  Hettie answered with a blush.

  “And now you’re making curtains.”

  Hettie looked self-conscious as she continued down the boardwalk. “I came here to start a new life, Loretta.”

  “So did Cyrus.” Loretta hesitated before continuing. “If you’re concerned about my former relationship with Cyrus…”

  “No. Well, yes. I mean we have discussed that and he’s been very open about his past.”

  “But it still bothers you,” Loretta said.

  “Perhaps a little.”

  “Cyrus has left that all behind him, Hettie. Is it because we live in the same house? I can assure you nothing has happened between us and it won’t.”

  “I trust Cyrus, but he is a man and a man has…well…needs. I succumbed to those needs once and I won’t again until I am married.”

  “If he cares for you, he’ll wait.”

  Anxious to change the topic, Hettie asked, “How are you doing after that unpleasant altercation at the café?”

  “I’m fine. He was drunk,” Loretta said. “He offered me money to bed him.”

  Hettie stopped, her hand flying to her mouth.

  “You shouldn’t be working in such an establishment, my dear. Does Cyrus…”

  “Nothing happened and I was well protected. It’s nothing I haven’t seen or dealt with before. I’m not some wilting blossom in need of shade, Hettie.”

  “It’s disgusting.”

  “It’s how I made my living before I left St. Joe, but I won’t return to it.” Loretta put her hand on Hettie’s forearm. “This is a new life, remember.”

  “I know. I suppose I never imagined something like that would happen so quickly.”

  They continued chatting until they stepped onto the wooden walkway in front of the dry goods store.

  “If I see material I like,” Loretta said, “I may purchase enough to make a new dress I can wear to work.

  Something simple.”

  Hettie stopped inside the store and looked around.

  “We should each find something obscenely sinful to make us feel better,” Loretta said. “Cyrus doesn’t need to know we think it sinful,” she added with a giggle.

  “Just help yourselves, ladies, while I put these goods outside,” a thin man wearing an apron called out to them as he bustled by.

  While working for Jack Coulter, Loretta had developed something of an appreciation for certain bath oils and scented waters. Unsure where such items might be located, she strolled up and down the aisles looking at everything. She picked up several items and read the unfamiliar labels on the bottles and boxes. Perhaps women in the west didn’t use scented bath oils, she thought. But she had noticed the perfume Mavis Calendar wore and liked it. Used much less liberally, it would be a pleasant scent.

  While she browsed through items near the rear of the store Loretta heard the shopkeeper’s raised voice.

  “All that was delivered was half the wire you ordered. The rest will be shipped as soon as it’s received in Denver,”

  “How long?” a low voice asked.

  “Probably the end of the month. It’s becoming a high demand item all of a sudden.”

  “That’s not good enough, Horace. I’ve already been waiting a month. I noticed Thad Garner doesn’t seem to be havin’ a problem getting his wire. Why is that?”

  There was a vaguely familiar sound to the second voice. Loretta peeked around a display at the end of an aisle. She recognized Clare McIlhenney’s profile.

  “I don’t work miracles, Clare. I just place orders.

  Do you want me to place another order or not? I have customers I need to help.”

  “Just place the damn order. I’ll make do with what I have until it arrives. Will you send the order out today?”

  Loretta saw Hettie approach the front counter carrying two bolts of fabric, waiting patiently for the storekeeper to complete his business with his customer.

  “What can I do for you, ma’am?” the storekeeper asked.

  “When you have a moment, I’d like four yards from each of these bolts,” Hettie said softly.

  “If you want what came in, it’s on the rear loading dock,” Horace said dismissively to Clare as he turned his attention to Hettie.

  “Did you find suitable fabric, Hettie?” Loretta asked as she strolled down the aisle toward them.

  Clare seemed surprised to see Loretta again. When Hettie turned her attention back to placing her order for fabric with the storekeeper, Loretta asked, “Are you feeling better today, Miss McIlhenney?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I have goods to load, if you’ll excuse me.”Clare nodded and turned quickly to leave the store. Once she disappeared, Loretta joined Hettie at the counter. “That’s lovely fabric,” she said, fingering the deep burgundy fabric.

  “I think it will make very elegant, but conservative curtains for Reverend Langford’s home.”

  Loretta leaned against the counter and looked up at Horace with a smile that never failed to get the attention of most men.

  “Did Miss McIlhenney have a problem with her order?” she asked.

  “Loretta! That’s none of our business,” Hettie admonished.

  Horace harrumphed. “She always does. She’s a squatter on some land in the foothills.”

  “A squatter?” Loretta asked. Clement Garner had called Clare McIlhenney the same thing the night before, but Loretta still wasn’t sure what that was.

  “The land she says is hers isn’t registered in her name. A couple of ranchers have tried to run her off, but something bad always happens to them. Rumor is she’s killed some men, but I don’t know if it’s true.

  She’s been living out there with that Mexican fella, Valdez, for years.” He looked around to see if anyone was close enough to overhear their conversation. “I heard tell they’re married, but she don’t use his name.

  Her only friends are saloon girls and prostitutes.

  That’s mighty strange behavior for a married woman, if you ask me.”

  Loretta felt the hair on the back of her neck begin to rise. She pushed away from the counter. “I’ll wait for you outside, Hettie,” she said curtly. She didn’t know anything about Clare McIlhenney, but for some reason the denigrating way the store owner talked about her bothered Loretta. “I suddenly have a need for some fresh air.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “INO! GET THOSE new ponies ready. We need to get them broke before branding starts,” Clare called as she saw her foreman walking out of the stable.

  Clare was already bone-tired, but there was barely a moment to rest no matter what time of year it was. In the month since her last trip to Trinidad, she and her hands had been working long hours tending to the herd and stringing barbed wire along the property that abutted Thaddeus Garner’s. Small puffs of dust rose from beneath her feet as she approached the corral. She squinted up at the sun that was beginning to rise over the mountains, sending red and or
ange streaks knifing across the blue sky. This was a good time of year. She pulled herself up onto the corral rails and waited. She’d purchased four new ponies the month before even though they hadn’t been broken to saddle yet. She’d given them time to get acquainted with their new surroundings and feed and used to having the weight of a saddle on their backs. Today would be the first time any of them had felt the weight of a rider as well. She wasn’t looking forward to being tossed around on the back of a horse until it calmed down and could be ridden. It was just another chore guaranteed to leave her backside sore and her bones rattled. Saddle breaking the new horses was a chore she had been putting off too long already. If she was going to drive the herd to Pueblo in the fall she would need extra horses in the remuda.

  Ino stepped out of the side gate of the stable leading a tall sorrel that wasn’t looking too pleased about being disturbed. Clare dropped down fom the fence and grabbed a blanket and saddle from the nearby railing. Ino spoke to the sorrel in Spanish with a low, soothing voice while stroking the horse’s head.

  “Speak to him in English, dammit,” Clare growled.

  “What’s the difference?” Ino said with a shrug.

  “’Whoa’ is ‘whoa’ in any language.”

  Clare carefully placed the blanket over the animal’s back as he began dancing around a little.

  “Hold him steady,” she said. “You’re probably right anyway. This way when I call him a goddamn jackass he won’t know what the hell I’m saying.” She shushed the horse and stroked his sides until he calmed down once again.

  “This is a smart one, Clare,” Ino commented when she lifted the saddle and swung it over the animal’s broad back, wiggling it a little to adjust its position.

  “He takes the saddle pretty good though,” she said as she bent over and pulled the cinch under the horse’s belly and drew it tight. She chuckled to herself. “Yeah, he thinks he’s a real smart guy,” she said. She lifted her knee forcefully and drove it into the horse’s belly, causing him to expel the breath being held to prevent the cinch from tightening. With a quick jerk she snugged up the cinch and grabbed the saddle horn to test its stability. “Okay. Let him walk around a few minutes before one of us gets on,” Clare said.“Want me to take this one?” Ino asked.