Chapter 12
JANE sat beside the doctor until he was deep in sleep, free of his pain for a while, then went down the stairs to the kitchen. She paused in the doorway when she saw Polly and Herb sitting at the table, their heads close in conversation. Not wanting to intrude, she backed away and went down the hall to the front door and out onto the porch.
The late evening air was sharp and cool. She hugged herself with her arms, turned her face to the mountains and took a deep breath. She never tired of looking at the snowcapped mountains with their endless belts of green. How desperate the Sioux, the Blackfoot, the Arapaho, the Cheyenne and all the other tribes must be knowing that the white man had destroyed the huge buffalo herds and now with axes and steam engines were gutting the forest.
Jane shook her head in silent denial at the thought of the obliteration of villages and of the women and children so relentlessly cut down. No! No! No! She could not, would not, think of that!
Lights shone from the cookhouse door and from the buildings up the street. Horses were tied to the hitching rails in front of the store, the saloon and a few other buildings. Men lounged on the porches, and even at this late hour she heard the ring of the blacksmith’s hammer. Buddy Winters rolled a hoop down the dusty street, and somewhere behind the town where the rows of cabins stood, a dog barked. In the homesteads that ringed the town it was suppertime.
The setting was peaceful, but Jane felt no peace.
Late one evening T.C. heard Jane’s footsteps going down the hall toward the door. It seemed strange having a woman about and stranger still having one to think about. There comes a time when a man starts to think of the years ahead and finds a vacant spot in his life. He had always known that someday…
He fingered his clean-shaven chin, then chuckled as he rubbed his fingertips over the smooth planes of his cheek. Had that someday finally arrived? He had shaved twice since she had been here. Even Colin had remarked on it.
His mother and father had been devoted to each other. He valued love, attention, and the nearness of someone. Still, he had not considered himself a lonely man—until now.
T.C. suddenly realized that something very important had happened to him that he did not completely understand. Somehow he shared a tie with this slim, capable, troubled woman, more of a tie than he’d ever shared with another human being. The knowledge of this warmed him, yet made him feel strange.
He went quietly to the door and looked out. She stood at the end of the porch, her face turned away from the town. He remembered the sunlight shining on the rich strands of her hair. He saw the slim figure beneath the worn, faded dress and wondered where her strength came from. There was something fine about her, something that spoke of pride and quality.
When he stepped out onto the porch, she turned as quickly as a doe sensing danger.
“It’s only me.” He hastened to reassure her. When she said nothing, he ventured, “Nice evening.”
“Winter comes early here, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. We can expect snow in another six weeks.”
“The evergreens are pretty against the white background.” She turned back to face the mountains, still hugging herself with her arms.
When T.C. came up behind her, he saw her shoulders straighten and her head come up as if she were preparing to defend herself against his touch.
“You’ve hardly been out of the house for the past week. Would you like to take a walk up the street and see—”
“No! But… thank you—”
“The hotel will be ready for guests soon, and a few of the ladies have already moved into the rooming house. Mrs. Fowler is going to run it. We’re keeping it strictly for ladies for a while.”
“Until they marry and leave?”
“You’ll be surprised to know that some are already keeping company.”
“It’s what you wanted.”
“Jane—It’s what they want. Have you never been lonely?”
“I’ve been too busy to be lonely.”
Because of the edge in her voice, T.C. decided not to pursue the subject.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to see what progress we’ve made?”
“Some other time. I’m not… dressed to be out in public.”
“You look fine to me. Get a shawl and come walk with me.”
“No. I couldn’t—”
“What are you afraid of? No harm will come to you while you’re with me. I swear it.”
“I’m not afraid!” she protested.
“Well then…?”
“Oh, all right. I’ll get my shawl.”
In the room she shared with Polly, she whipped off the apron, then transferred the notes to her dress pocket for fear someone would find them and picked up her shawl. She looked into the doctor’s room and, finding him as she had left him, went down to where T.C. waited. He had put on a sleeveless vest to ward off the evening chill.
To Jane’s annoyance, T.C. held her firmly to his side with his hand beneath her elbow. She had made an attempt to draw away; but he refused to release her, and she walked along beside him, stiff and resentful. They passed the saloon where male voices, the scraping of boot heels on the plank floor, and drunken laughter came through the wide entrance with its twin swinging doors.
“This will be the tonsorial parlor.” T.C. stopped before a narrow building next to the saloon. “It will have two chairs and baths in the back. One of the ladies is a barber. Did you know that?”
“How can I forget? You let Mr. Wassall think it was me.”
T.C. chuckled, and she could feel the movement against the arm he held to his side.
“He raked me over good after you left.”
“You deserved it. Which one of the women is the barber?”
“Guess.” He turned her toward him and smiled down at her.
“Bertha Phillips.”
T.C.’s grin widened. “The men would be afraid she’d cut their throats.”
“Theda Cruise.”
“She’s going to open another saloon.”
“You’d have two saloons before you build a school?”
“That’s another matter. We’re talking about the barber.” He took her arm and they walked on down the street toward the store. “The owner and operator of the new barber shop will be Mrs. Brackey.”
“Mrs. Brackey!” Jane stopped, turned and looked up at him. “I don’t believe it. She’s got a little girl.”
“Believe it. Her husband was a barber and taught her the trade before he became so sick that he could no long carry on. She ran the shop for four years and supported the family. When he died, she no longer wanted to be in the place where he had suffered. She sold out and came here.”
“She doesn’t seem… the type.”
“No, she doesn’t. She’ll do all right. I doubt there’ll be any cussing or spitting on the floor in her place. The men will be so bumfuzzled over a woman barber that they’ll behave.”
The sagging porch of the next building had been removed and the one large window replaced.
“This is the bakery. There are rooms in the back where Mrs. Winters and her boy will live. They’ve already moved in, and she is waiting for her stove to arrive. She’s doing the baking over at Bill’s now. I’ve got to get her out of there. The two don’t get along. She’s too moody and bossy for our Sweet William.”
By the time they stepped up onto the porch at the store, Jane had loosened up and was actually enjoying the walk and T.C.’s company. Before they went inside the store, he turned her to face the street.
“We’ve planned for the church to be built over there in that grove of aspens.”
“And the school?”
“On the road just beyond.”
“When?”
He grinned down at her. “Next week.”
“And the church?”
“Next year. By then someone else will take over. Colin and I will be working on our own place east of here.”
“Oh.” This brought q
uestions to Jane’s mind that she refused to utter.
“Shall we go into the store? Is there anything you want?”
“Nothing, but I’d like to look.”
Jane had not expected the store to be chock full of all manner of supplies essential to life in an isolated town. The scent of spices mixed with wool blankets, leather goods, new wood, and oiled tools was pleasant. T.C. and Jane had to maneuver around barrels, wagon seats and plows to reach the wooden churns, crocks, iron kettles, dishpans and washtubs that lined the aisles. Drums of lamp oil were kept in the back, but the smell reached into the store. Boxes of candles were displayed on the same table as crockery and tinwear.
Food items were lined along one wall. Canned goods sat on the shelves, and barrels of crackers, raisins, dried fruit and salted meat stood in front of the long counter. Sacks of flour and cornmeal, as well as barrels of sugar, were stacked at the end.
Even at this late hour, the merchant and two women were still unpacking merchandise and arranging it on the shelves. Jane paused beside a table piled high with bolts of dress and shirt material and boxes of buttons and lace trimmings, with a spool cabinet of thread at the end. She fingered the soft material used for undergarments and baby clothing, forgetting about T.C. until she looked up and caught him watching her.
Jane moved away from him, and around a pile of men’s hats. She came face to face with Paralee Jenkins.
“Goodness gracious! If it ain’t Miss Love—the know-it-all Miss Love. Ya moved in and got ya a soft spot, didn’t ya? How come ya ain’t been over to lord it over the rest of us? We been expectin’ ya.”
“Hello, Paralee.” Jane turned sideways to go around the girl. Paralee blocked her path, her face red with anger.
“We all know ya mealy-mouthed yore way in with Mr. Kilkenny and took that little bawl-baby with ya.”
“Paralee! Say one more word and I’ll put my fist in yore mouth!” Sunday was suddenly beside Jane. She stood on spread feet, her hands on her hips, glaring down at the startled girl. “Yo’re lyin’. Nobody’d say anythin’ but you and yore cronies. None of ya’d say a good word for a body if yore mouths was full a hockey and that was the only way to get it out.”
“Well… well—
“That’s too deep a subject for ya to talk about, feather-head. Now go weep and moan on Bessie’s shoulder so I can visit with Jane.”
Paralee stuck out her tongue in a childish gesture of defiance before she wheeled around the end of the counter and left them. Sunday let loose a free burst of laughter and threw her arm across Jane’s shoulder.
“It’s good to see ya. I hear the doctor’s bad off.”
Paralee didn’t see T.C. until she ran up against him. She backed off and looked up with a smile. It quickly faded when she saw the disapproving look on his face. Darting around him, she headed for the door.
Seeing that Jane was in conversation with Sunday, T.C. went back up the aisle. She would be embarrassed to know that he had overheard the jealous little twit’s comments.
“I’ll be there a little while longer, Sunday. Why don’t you come over?”
“It’s all over town that you’re doin’ the doctorin’ now.”
“I’m not a doctor! All I do is some of the things I learned from the… school where I worked. I ask Nathan… Dr. Foote to tell me what to do if he’s awake. Tell folks I’m not a doctor, not even a trained nurse.”
“Nobody’s complainin’. They’re tickled pink yo’re here. Murphy’s tellin’ everybody ya can take his leg off any time ya want to.”
“Oh, that man! All I did was put some stitches in a cut in his leg and a new bandage every day or so.”
“I think he’s sweet on ya.”
“Oh, pooh. Enough about me. What are you doing?”
“Little bit of ever’thin’. I had a face-off with Miss Snooty-puss. The high-brow Mexican señora,” Sunday added when she read the question on Jane’s face. “She saw me talking to Colin Tallman and told me is no uncertain terms that he belonged to her, and if I was smart, I’d stay clear of him.” Sunday’s hearty laughter bubbled up again. “Can you beat that?”
“Goodness sake! What a thing to say. She’s married, isn’t she?”
“’Pears that she is. I heard Colin tell Sweet William her husband could have her.”
“What in the world did you say to her?”
“I said, Señora, tellin’ me to not do somethin’ is like wavin’ a red flag in front of a bull. And she said that I reminded her of one. The hussy!” Sunday’s eyes sparkled with amusement.
“I suppose you told her you’d stay away from him.”
“I told her I’d wrestle or bare-knuckle fight her for him. I thought she was goin’ to faint and fall in it.”
Jane’s laughter joined Sunday’s. She really is pretty, Jane thought. Pretty and good-natured and confident. If I could only be like her! The man that gets her will be lucky. She will make his home a place of joy, stand by his side through thick and thin—laughing all the while. The thought crossed Jane’s mind that Sunday would be perfect for Colin Tallman or… T.C. Kilkenny.
Jane heard someone speak to Kilkenny and then saw Mrs. Winters coming down the aisle.
“You still here? I thought ya was leavin’,” she confronted Jane without as much as a greeting.
“Hello, Mrs. Winters. I’ll be going in a day or two.”
The woman’s eyes flicked over Jane’s face, then rested on Sunday’s before she turned away.
“I’m lookin’ for Buddy.”
“He was in the street rollin’ a hoop a while ago. Little bugger’s probably in the saloon by now,” Sunday called after her.
Jane smiled. It was always a pleasure to be with Sunday Polinski. They walked along the crowded aisles to where Kilkenny stood at the counter talking to the proprietor. He pulled back his vest and put something in his shirt pocket.
“Howdy, Miss Sunday.”
“Howdy yoreself, Mister T.C. Kilkenny. By the way, what does T.C. stand for?”
“If I told you, you’d not believe me.” He smiled down at her. It was clear to Jane that he enjoyed Sunday’s company too.
“Guess I’ll just have to make up my own. T.C. Could it be Tom Cat?” Sunday’s laughter was loud and merry.
Kilkenny’s laughter joined hers. “How about Tall Cowboy?” He took Jane’s arm and urged her toward the door.
“Somehow I don’t believe that. Hey! Are you two walkin’ out together?” Sunday called from behind them.
“Could be.”
Jane was so mortified that she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. At that moment she wished she’d never come and vowed not to speak to Sunday again. She fumed at T.C. too. He could have put a stop to the rumors that were sure to spread now. On the porch she yanked her elbow from his grasp.
“Why did you say that?”
“She wouldn’t have believed me if I’d said no. Would it be so bad to let folks think you walked out with me?”
“No. It’s just that… it’s not true.”
He took her elbow again. “I want to walk you down past the hotel.”
As they went down the steps, a man came out of the darkness and bumped as if by accident into Jane on the side away from T.C. His hand was hard on her arm for a few seconds, then gently squeezed it.
“Evenin’, Miss Love. Beg pardon.”
Jane looked into the face of Bob Fresno and knew that he had touched her deliberately. His face had been so close to hers that she could feel the warmth of his breath. It all happened so quickly, she had no time to say anything before he vanished in the dark.
Kilkenny also suspected it was no chance meeting that had brought the man up against Jane, but he chose not to speak of it at the moment and risk spoiling the short time he had with her.
The darkness away from the lighted store was complete. Jane was almost grateful for the hand on her elbow as they walked down the rutted street toward the big building that loomed in the darkness. They did not go up t
he steps to the porch, but rather stood in the street and looked at what soon would be quite a fancy hotel.
New glass filled the windowpanes; new wood fronted the building. Inside a lamp burned and Jane could see a man fitting a railing on a stairway going to the upper floor. Across the front stretched a long porch with steps leading down each side, its roof serving as a porch for the upper story.
“The rooms already have beds and washstands. The women have been working on the rooms and getting the kitchen ready. The dining area is small, but there’s room to enlarge it later on.”
“When will it be ready?”
“By the end of the week.”
“Who will stay in it?”
“Travelers from the stage.”
“From the stage?” She knew that he was looking at her, enjoying her surprise. “You’ve known all along that the stage was coming,” she said accusingly.
“I didn’t know exactly when.”
“Then I needn’t depend on you to take me to the train.”
“Not if you wait a few weeks.”
“I can’t wait that long.”
“Señora Cabeza’s husband will be coming soon. He’ll be a good customer for the hotel,” he said, not wanting her to dwell on the subject of her leaving. His voice came out of the darkness from someplace above her head. “Now he’s a sight to see.” They began to walk back down the street.
“What do you mean?”
“Ramon Cabeza is a strutting little peacock. He’ll arrive in a fine carriage with servants and a dozen or so bodyguards that he calls estate troops. He puts on quite a show. I plan for his hotel bill to pay for restoring the hotel.”
“Is he very rich?”
“His family is an old Spanish family. Their land, they say, was a grant from the King of Spain way back in the early 1600s. I’m not sure how they got it, but they’ve a lot of it.”
“That’s no reason to dislike him.”
“I don’t like or dislike him. At times he’s laughable. But a fool with more pride than brains can also be dangerous.”
“She must have had a reason for leaving him.”
“Patrice has a reason for everything she does, and it usually has a dollar sign in front of it.”
The Listening Sky Page 15