The Listening Sky

by Dorothy Garlock

  As they reached the house and walked up the steps to the porch, T.C. was reluctant to part with her.

  “I need a sign painter. With all the people here there’s not one that can paint a sign.” He spoke more to prolong the time spent with her than anything else.

  “I can paint signs,” she said, and could have bitten her tongue.

  “You can? That’s a load off my mind. We need—”

  “Don’t count on me staying to paint your signs. Someone else will come along to do it.”

  T.C.’s mind worked fast Now was not the time to argue the point. He changed the subject.

  “What do you think of the town now?”

  “A lot has been done—”

  “We won’t make as much progress now. The hands at the mill and the men at the cutting camps have their own work. Coming from Denver, it probably doesn’t seem like much of a town to you.”

  “I didn’t live in Denver. The place where I grew up was way out of town. But when I left, the town was spreading out to it.”

  “You’re not a town girl?” he said in a teasing tone of voice.

  “If I could live any place I wanted to live, I’d pick the top of a faraway mountain where there was only the whispering forest, the singing birds and the listening sky.”

  “You think the sky listens?”

  “Of course it does. It hears the cry of the hawk high above the earth and the sun snarling when a cloud passes in front of it.”

  T.C. was speechless for a moment. “You’re a poet! I never thought of the sun snarling.”

  “I’m not a poet. I just think… things.” Jane was pleased that he hadn’t laughed at her fanciful notions. But it was possible that he was just being polite.

  “Do you want a man to live with you on your mountain? Give you children? Grow old with you?”

  “I… I’ve not thought about it. I’d better go see about Nathan.”

  “Jane—” His hand had found the curve of her waist. “I like talking to you. Shall we do this again?”

  “I don’t think it’s wise. The whole town will be talking as it is. You’re an important man here, and they watch every move you make. Besides that, you’ll miss your chance with Sunday or Theda Cruise or some of the others.”

  “I don’t want to miss my chance with you.”

  He didn’t know how it happened. He certainly hadn’t planned to kiss her. His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her to him. She looked up in surprise and his mouth swooped down on hers. The kiss was gentle, yet persistent. He didn’t give her the chance to turn her face away. Her lips were soft, her breath warm and sweet. He moved his mouth gently against hers for what seemed to him only seconds. Her slender body fit perfectly against his. For that short time there were only the two of them in a vast cocoon of darkness. If it had suddenly become daylight, he would not have noticed.

  As if detached from the physical world, he held her tightly against him, his head bowed, his cheek against hers.

  “Jane… Jane—” His voice was husky, his breathing rapid.

  When he lifted his head, she stood shaking and numb, too confused to know what she should do about this awful sheer physical desire she felt for him. She was shaking all over, the most peculiar sensation. She stood still, forcing herself to conquer this ridiculous fluttering weakness. Finally, when able to speak, she hid her feeling with sarcasm.

  “I didn’t know you… expected payment for escorting me.”

  “I didn’t know… I was going to kiss you. But I’m glad I did.”

  “Why?” His arms were still around her and would not allow her to move away.

  “Because you’re… because—Hell! I wanted to.”

  “And you take what you want because you have superior strength.”

  “That’s not true, and I think you know it.”

  “Then to compare?”

  “With what? I—”

  “—Never mind.” She pulled away and he let her go. “I must go see about Nathan.” She opened the door and disappeared inside.

  T.C. stood on the porch after she left him. He reached into his pocket for a cigar and found the stick candy he had bought at the store and had forgotten to give to her. Damn!

  He could probably count on one hand the number of women he had kissed. He could not even remember their faces. None of them had prepared him for kissing Jane Love. The miracle was—she had not rebuffed him. Had she been as stunned by the kiss as he had been? Other thoughts came on the tail of that one. Had he scared her off? Would she be reluctant to be alone with him now?

  Sitting down on the edge of the porch, he put the cigar in his mouth, struck a match and, protecting the flame with his cupped hands, lit it.

  He sure as hell wished he knew more about women. In the deep shadows across the street, Bob Fresno stood with his shoulder hunched against the wall. He had seen Jane leave the house with Kilkenny, followed them up the street and waited while they were in the store. To his knowledge, it was the first time in four or five days she had been out of the house except to go to the privy.

  She was in the upstairs room now. The lamp had been turned up. Kilkenny was on the porch. He could see the glow of whatever he was smoking. If he had his rifle he could kill him now and no one would be the wiser. He didn’t want to do it if he didn’t have to. He had seen him friendly with the redhead at the saloon and a couple of other women. But how in hell could he not be interested in the best-looking woman in town, one living right there in his own house?

  Bob was unhappy with the situation here in Timbertown. If Jane were not here, he would move on. Milo Callahan was not a man he wanted to trail with, and he was letting it be known that they had only met at the stage station and were not trailing partners.

  He didn’t understand a man like Milo. He had been wild for Polly, but the past few days he had stopped talking about Polly and now talked about Bessie, who was not so standoffish. Milo was taking bets that he’d have the girl on her back in a week. Some of the men thought him a joke and egged him on.

  Bob didn’t care if Milo raped every woman in town as long as Jane wasn’t one of them.

  Chapter 13

  A day passed, then another and another, each one more quickly than the last. Jane had seen T.C. only briefly since the evening he kissed her and always in the company of Colin, Herb or Jeb Hobart, the carpenter in charge of repairing the buildings. She suspected that he was avoiding her company because he was ashamed of what had happened between them and was afraid that she might take it for more than it was.

  When she was not in the doctor’s room, she was in the surgery treating a variety of minor ailments that could have been tended to by anyone. She put a poultice on a boil to bring it to a head, and wrapped a sprained wrist. She told a mother to rub the gums of her teething child with a silver spoon handle to help the teeth come through. For a hacking cough, she suggested spoonfuls of equal parts of whiskey, honey and vinegar. Thank heavens, there had been no serious injuries for her to handle.

  Nathan had begun sleeping for longer and longer periods of time, and she wondered how many more days his wasted body would cling to life. He was not eating at all now and only occasionally drank water or tea unless it had the pain-numbing drug in it.

  Jane awoke at dawn, stood and stretched every part of her body. She was stiff, her muscles aching from sitting long hours beside Nathan. Sometime after midnight she had dozed and then been awakened by Herb’s touch on her shoulder.

  “Go to bed,” he had said quietly. “I’ll call ya if there’s a change.”

  Jane dressed hurriedly now, used the chamber pot and shoved it back under the bed, being careful not to awaken Polly. Across the hall in Doc’s room she found Herb still sitting beside the bed. His elbows rested on his spread thighs, his chin in the palm of his hand. She thought he might be asleep until the floor creaked and he turned to look at her with bloodshot eyes. The lamp on the table cast a soft glow over the man on the bed. His mouth was open, his breathing shallow.
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  “How is he?”

  “He woke up once. Never asked for the laudanum, just went back to sleep.”

  Jane placed her hand on his shoulder. “He may be beyond the pain.”

  “Don’t know why it has to be him when there’s a heap of no-goods that needs killin’.”

  “Life isn’t always fair.”

  “He’s the smartest man I ever knowed,” Herb said, then added, his voice barely above a whisper, “and the best.”

  “Yes. He gave a lot to the world while be was here.”

  “He told me this mornin’ not to waste my life rammin’ around. He said he didn’t want me to end up like him. Said to settle down and get me a wife and kids.”

  “I think he wishes he had done that.”

  “If I get to talk to him again, I’m goin’ to tell him that I’m goin’ to marry Polly if she’ll have me. Her young’un’ll be mine, and we’ll have more.”

  “Have you talked to Polly about it?”

  “Not yet. Do ya think she’ll have me?”

  “She would be foolish not to. You’re a good man, Herb. Do you want me to sit with him for a while?”

  “If ya want. I’ll go fire up the stove and make coffee.” He got stiffly to his feet, stretched, and went to the door.

  “Ah… Herb.” Jane followed. “Throw out the coffee grounds. They’ve been used for four days now. Surely Mr. Kilkenny can afford fresh grounds.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Me and T.C. just add a dab more grounds each time ‘cause it’s faster. I’ll throw ‘em all out.”

  Jane had carried her hairbrush with her to Doc’s room. After Herb went downstairs, she stood beside Nathan’s bed and loosened her hair from the braid she had put it in as she did each night before she went to bed. How had it happened that she had become so attached to this cranky old man? He really wasn’t old, she realized. Life’s experiences had aged him.

  She went to the window, looked down on the street and began to brush her hair. The street looked nothing like it had when she first saw it. So much had been accomplished in the short while she had been here. She brushed the hair back from her face, then gathered it and brought it forward to brush the ends.

  Some unseen force pulled her around to see T.C. watching her from the doorway. She threw the long flow of hair back over her shoulder. His eyes caught hers and they looked at each other for a long moment. Jane’s heart began palpitating. Days ago she had come to realize that she had feelings. for this man. Did he know? How could he possibly know that she had lived and relived the kiss they had shared and that now he was the principal reason she must leave as soon as her promise to Nathan was fulfilled.

  T.C. nodded and moved into the room to stand beside the bed.

  “How is he?’

  “He’s sleeping without the laudanum.”

  “Is that good?”

  “It’s both good and bad. He isn’t suffering. He may be in an unconscious sleep. It’s called a coma.”

  “I came up last night. Herb was here. I would have spelled him a while, but he wanted to stay.”

  “Herb’s taking this hard.”

  He was gazing at her so intently with his silver eyes that she feared he could read her every thought. Those eyes, fixed upon hers, were looking into her very soul.

  They knew. They were waiting.

  Jane stepped back and turned to the window.

  “Herb’s grinding beans to make coffee. I’ll bring you a cup.”

  “I’ll come get it.”

  It had been a mistake to turn her back on him. She knew the instant he was there behind her even though he had made no sound. She knew before she felt his hand on her hair.

  “You’ve got beautiful hair.”

  “It needs washing,” she blurted mindlessly.

  “You’ve had no time to do anything for yourself, have you?”

  “I will… soon.”

  “Jane—” She felt him lift the hair from the back of her neck. “You’ve avoided me for days. Did you hate my kiss so much?”

  She laughed. She meant for it to be lighthearted, but it came out a nervous titter. She was mortified.

  “Flitter! That? I thought nothing of it.”

  “I did. I’ve thought about it a lot.” There was a note of impatience in his tone. “Someday soon I want to do it again.”

  “Theda will oblige. Or Bessie. Don’t try it with Sunday or she’ll—”

  “Hush! You know good and well what I’m talking about.” His hands, hard on her shoulders, swung her around to face him. For a moment he stood studying her, a deep furrow between his brows. Then a slow smile altered the stern cast of his face. “Every minute I’m with you makes me more and more sure that you’re the one.”

  Fear knifed through her. “The one for… what?”

  He pulled her to him. She had no chance to resist. They were so close her breasts were against his chest. She looked up into his down-turned face in total confusion.

  “Something has happened between us—something that makes me want to be with you every minute of the day. I think… I hope you feel that way too.”

  “I… I—”

  “Are you trying to think of a way to deny it?” His face was grave, but she could see that his eyes had changed. Was it tenderness she saw there?

  His gaze dropped to her mouth and her heart seemed to stall before it settled into a pounding rhythm. It was then that he placed a quick, hard kiss on her lips.

  “You know it’s true, my sweet Miss Pickle,” he whispered, and wheeled out the door on his silent bootless feet.

  Jane pressed the back of her hand to her lips. Then she turned back to the window and held the sides of her pounding head with her two hands as if to squeeze him from her mind.

  Just before noon another headache arrived in the form of Bob Fresno. Jane was in the surgery cleaning up after treating a burn on a man’s forearm. A knock sounded on the door. She opened it and there Bob stood behind Polly. Jane could feel his hot dark eyes fastened on her face.

  “He says he’s sick,” Polly said.

  “I’m not a doctor.”

  “Ya’d refuse a dyin’ man?” Fresno moved around in front of Polly, forcing her to back away.

  “You don’t look sick to me.” She turned away, dismissing him. He pushed at the door when she tried to close it, came into the surgery, closed the door and leaned against it.

  “I had to say I was sick to see ya. Don’t ya ever come outta this place?”

  “Open the door, Mr. Fresno.”

  “Not until you say you’ll come out tonight and walk with me like you did Kilkenny.”

  “Open the door.”

  “I just want to talk to ya, get to know ya.”

  “Open the door.”

  “Hell, ya’d think I had cholera or the pox. I’m not a bad sort.”

  “I’m very busy—”

  “Ya wasn’t too busy to go strollin’ with Kilkenny.”

  “That is none of your business.”

  “He ain’t courtin’ ya. I know that fer a fact”

  “What you know or don’t know is of no importance to me. Now, please leave.”

  “He walks out with a different one ever’ night. Goes down behind the livery to that pile a cut grass. All the fellers hee-haw about it.”

  “What Mr. Kilkenny does is none of my business or yours.” Pain swirled around her heart. Was he telling the truth?

  “I was just tellin’ ya ‘cause I don’t want ya to get yore hopes up. Oh, I know he’s the big dog ‘round here. That’s jist it. He can have any woman he wants.”

  “Open the door and get out!”

  “Ya been on my mind since I first saw ya.”

  She looked squarely at him. He had been at the station when she got the first threatening note and had eyed her then but in a more flirtatious way than he was doing now. He was serious and unsmiling. Could he be behind the notes left for her? Was he going to blackmail her into… being with him?

  Into the silence a heav
y fist pounded hard on the door.

  “Jane! Hurry!” Herb’s voice sounded frantic.

  “Get out of my way,” Jane snarled, and the startled man moved. She flung open the door. Herb was bounding up the stairs. Polly stood at the bottom wringing her hands. “Get that man out,” Jane said harshly. “If he won’t go, go out into the street and scream your head off.”

  She didn’t wait to see if her orders were obeyed. She lifted her skirts and ran up the stairs to Doc’s room. Herb was on his knees beside the bed. Jane went to stand behind him. Doc’s eyes were open. He looked up at her.

  “This… is it, girl.” His voice was barely audible.

  “No, Doc!” Herb’s big shoulders shook. Jane pressed close to his side and put her hand on his shoulder.

  She had to swallow the lump in her throat before she could speak calmly.

  “I know, Nathan. We’ve been expecting it, haven’t we? I’m glad we have a chance to say good-bye.”

  “You’re a pistol—”

  “And you’ve got more guts than any ten men I’ve ever met.”

  His lids floated down, then up. Faded eyes focused on Herb.

  “You’ve been as good a son… as I could a wished for.”

  “Doc—I never thanked ya—” Tears flowed freely down freshly shaven cheeks. He placed Doc’s hand in his open palm. The strong holding the weak, the young holding the old.

  “Didn’t have to, boy.”

  “I never told ya how… much I thought of ya, either.”

  “I… knew. T.C. ‘ll keep a eye on you. Kinda go along with what he says.” Doc’s fingers moved against Herb’s. “Never thought I’d die in bed. Thought sure somebody’d shoot me.”

  Jane had to strain to hear his words. His eyes closed, then opened again.

  “Is it night?”

  “Almost,” Jane said softly.

  “Thought I’d be scared, but I’m not.” His eyes closed again, and Jane knew somehow they would never open.

  She went to the other side of the bed, sat down and picked up his hand. This fragile man had used this hand to save lives—many, many lives. She held it tightly and, because he would not see them, she let the tears flow freely down her cheeks.