The Listening Sky

by Dorothy Garlock

  “It was our pleasure, Mr. Tennihill. Thank you for sharing them.”

  “Tennihill, I’d be obliged if you’d step in and help carry Doc to his final resting place. Not many here knew him.”

  “I’d be plumb proud to, T.C. The kind a man Little Doc was don’t come by but oncet in a coon’s age.”

  Jane watched the tall, lanky man walk away. She tried to disengage her elbow from T.C.’s hand, but he refused to let it go. Holding tightly, he spoke to Maude.

  “Where’s Herb and Polly?”

  “They walked up to the store. Polly decided Herb needed a tie. Stella went with them.”

  “Stella went with them?” Jane echoed. “Maude, she usually won’t let you out of her sight.”

  “She likes Polly.” Maude smiled broadly. “It’s been good for her to be around Herb too. He’s such a gentle boy.”

  “I need Jane for a while, Mrs. Henderson. If you need anything Colin will be here in a minute.”

  T.C. ushered Jane into the house and into his office.

  “Polly said you’ve packed your bag,” he said the instant he had closed the door. A note of impatience tinged his words. He went to his desk, sat on the edge and folded his arms over his chest.

  “Of course I have. You must know I can’t stay here now. And… you’ve no business picking Polly about my affairs.”

  “Why is now any different from yesterday or the day before?”

  “You are dense, Mr. Kilkenny, if you don’t know the answer to that. Polly and I can’t stay in this house with three single men just to be staying here. We had a reason while I was nursing Doc. Polly was here to help me. That was acceptable. Doc is no longer here for me to nurse.”

  “You’re leaving because Doc’s gone?” Silver eyes battled with blue ones.

  “You promised to take me… or send me to the stage station if I stayed with him to the end.”

  “Things have come up that change that.”

  “You’re going back on your word! I should have known you have no honor,” Jane said coolly.

  “Don’t get in a snit, love. As I said, things have come up. You and Polly will stay right here. I’ll have Mrs. Henderson move in if it’ll make you feel better.”

  “Don’t you care that my reputation is already in shreds? Minnie Perkins and Grace Schwab are having the time of their lives talking about the fallen woman in your house. Paralee fans the flames as much as she can. The only friends I have in town are Sunday and Polly.”

  “Mrs. Henderson?”

  “Of course. Maude has more brains that the lot of them put together.”

  “Then I don’t understand why you care what they say.”

  “I won’t care when I’m gone. They can say what they want then, and they’ll say plenty.”

  “Jane—love,” he paused between her name and the endearment so she’d not mistake his intent. “Stay here. I’ll have Mrs. Henderson and Stella move into Doc’s room. We’ll talk more about this in a day or so.”

  “You… promised.”

  He hardened his heart and refused to acknowledge the whispered words or the strained, worried look on her face.

  “A preacher came in last night. He’s coming over as soon as he gets spruced up. He’ll conduct a service for Doc.”

  “You knew he was coming?”

  “No. Garrick Rowe said he’d see what he could do about a preacher coming to start a church, but I didn’t know he’d be here this soon.”

  “What is he?” Jane asked tightly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is he a Catholic? Baptist? Methodist? Mormon?” A vision of a black-bearded man flashed before her eyes.

  “I didn’t ask him what he was. Does it matter?”

  “I guess not.” Her shoulders slumped wearily.

  T.C. stood, walked over to her and put his hands on her upper arms. He wanted to hold her, protect her. In such a short time she had crept into his heart and wrapped herself firmly around it. His father, the wisest man he had ever known, had told him that love and hate were the two strongest ties in the world. He hadn’t really understood then, but he did now. It was agony to think of her leaving, of never seeing her again.

  “Jane, let me help you. Tell me why you feel you must leave here.”

  “Because I don’t like a backwoods town. I’m used to the city.”

  “That’s not true. What about your mountains and your listening sky? They know your secrets. Won’t you share them with me?” He put his arms around her and for just an instant Jane closed her eyes, leaned against him, savored his warmth and his protecting strength.

  A knock sounded on the door. T.C. reluctantly dropped his arms from around Jane and went to open it. Maude stood back to allow a man wearing a dark suit and small round spectacles to enter. He was young, slightly built and about T.C.’s age. His ruddy cheeks were clean-shaven.

  “Come in, Reverend Davis. I want you to meet Miss Jane Love.”

  Jane held out her hand. “How do you do?”

  The preacher shifted the Bible from his right hand to his left and took Jane’s hand in a firm clasp. His eyes flicked from her to Kilkenny. The hand on the woman’s back said clearly that she belonged to this tall black-haired man who had more than a trace of Indian blood.

  “Pleased to meet you.”

  T.C. picked up a paper from his desk. “I’ve written out a few things about Dr. Foote. You may want to read them over.”

  “Is either of you related to Dr. Foote?”

  “No. The doctor has no blood relatives that I know of.”

  “Herb,” Jane prompted.

  “Herb Banks is his foster son, so to speak.”

  “Do you know if the doctor was baptized? And if so, what church?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The preacher looked over what T.C. had written, folded the paper and put it in his Bible.

  “What time did you want to start the service?”

  T.C. looked at Jane. She lifted her brows in a question. T.C. held her eyes with his as he answered.

  “Any time now.”

  Fifty or more people followed Doc’s body to the cemetery. The young preacher walked directly behind the wagon, followed by Herb holding Polly’s hand as if the small girl were his anchor during this sorrowful time. Jane walked between T.C. and Colin and was the envy of more than one female in the crowd. When the wagon stopped at the foot of the knoll, Herb, T.C., Colin, and the man called Tennihill gently lifted the coffin to their shoulders and carried it up the grassy hill.

  The place where Doc would spend eternity was a quiet, beautiful spot shaded by tall pines with a clear view of the mountains to the west. Jane thought it symbolic that the clear melodious sound of a mourning dove came from faraway as the box was lowered to the ground beside the gaping hole. As the mourners gathered around, T.C. reached for Jane’s hand and pulled her up beside him.

  The service was short. The preacher read the eulogy T.C. had written. Nathan Foote had been born in Virginia, had gone to medical school there and had served in the Confederate Army. The preacher read of his deeds on the battlefield and told of his commendation by the president of the United States.

  After reading a short passage from his Bible, the preacher began to sing “The Lord’s Prayer” in the most beautiful voice Jane had ever heard. His voice was rich and vibrant. It reached to Jane’s listening sky. The mourners were awed into silence. Jane felt the spell of a strange enchantment settle over her. Her eyes were drawn to those of the tall man beside her. He gazed down at her and squeezed her hand, and for a short while she felt as if she really belonged to him.

  “Join me in singing ‘Shall We Gather at the River.’ “

  The mourners at first were hesitant. The preacher sang as if all had joined in, and soon most of them had. Jane was surprised not only to hear T.C. sing, but that he knew all the words. Raised in the church school, she believed she knew every word of every hymn ever written.

  Standing at a distance where he had
an unrestricted view, Bob Fresno saw the look exchanged between Jane and Kilkenny. The look was one of… intimacy. A feeling of frustration and anger knifed through him. Hell! She was damn lucky he’d noticed her. What was Kilkenny, but a… breed?

  Jane lifted her eyes and saw Bob Fresno gazing at her. During the few seconds when their eyes met, Bob lowered his eyelid. When Jane realized what he had done, her face flamed. She had not been so isolated at the school that she had not learned about the flirtatious wink of an eye when a man wanted a woman to know that he desired her. She didn’t dare look around to see if anyone else had noticed.

  T.C. let go of Jane’s hand to join with the others when it was time to hold the ropes and lower the box into the ground. It was then that Jane’s eyes flooded with tears. She remembered standing beside Aunt Alice, when her mother was buried. At that young age she had not realized the finality of death. Out of time immemorial Nathan Foote had spent a mere fifty years on this earth and now he was no more than—

  “Ashes to ashes,” the preacher said, “Dust to dust.”

  Nature had provided a beautiful late summer day for Nathan Foote’s burial and the gathering that followed in front of the house where he had lived his last days.

  The tables brought over from the cookhouse were lined up in front of the porch. Maude, Polly, Sunday and Jane carried the food from the kitchen. Families had gone home, changed out of their Sunday best and returned with more food to add to the meal.

  The day before, on hearing that Dr. Foote had passed away, Sweet William had had a steer butchered. In the pit lined with adobe bricks, the steer was placed over a fire of hickory wood. A tin lid, fashioned to hold the smoke, covered the pit. All morning, before and after the service, men lounged around the pit, giving advice and swapping yarns about pit-smoked meat.

  The roasted steer was pulled from the pit with a chain and a pulley and swung over a table where Sweet William had an array of knives and cleavers. He sliced the meat and placed it in large pans to be carried to the table.

  Theda Cruise came, her flaming red hair tied back with a ribbon. She wore a dark blue satin dress with a bustle on the back. Her waist was tightly cinched, the corset pushing her breasts up to show a slight cleavage at the neckline. Her dress was modest and stylish according to Denver standards.

  Her contribution to the affair was a sack of stick candy she had purchased at the store as a treat for the children. Jane was more than mildly surprised by the saloon woman’s gesture.

  Noticeably absent was Patrice Guzman Cabeza, who had moved to the hotel. When asked about Patrice, Maude said she had been told that the woman complained of not feeling well and wanted to be left alone.

  Sunday and Colin were spending more time together. Perhaps Patrice Guzman Cabeza was not ill but unhappy over the fact that she had been unable to bring Colin Tallman to heel.

  The picnic atmosphere of the gathering was baffling to Jane… such a gala event arising from a death. All those attending seemed to be enjoying themselves. Buddy Winters, for one, was reveling in unusual freedom. He ran and played with the other children while their mothers visited with their neighbors. To Jane it all seemed rather… disrespectful to Doc.

  She was in the kitchen with Maude and Polly when T.C. came in. He still wore his white shirt and string tie. His blue-black hair was still neatly combed. Jane was drying cups as Maude washed them. He came up close behind her, so close his lips touched her ear.

  “Honey, folks are getting impatient to eat.”

  Jane looked quickly to see if Maude had heard, then sent a jabbing blow to his abdomen with her elbow. He grunted but didn’t move.

  “Then let the feast begin! This whole thing is barbaric.”

  Maude turned in surprise, her hands dripping dishwater.

  Jane, no! Folks in small towns always get together after a burial. They’re celebrating the doctor’s life, not his death.”

  “I’ve never seen the like. People are acting as if… as if they were at a fair.”

  “They’ve not forgotten Doc. They are remembering him, honey.” T.C. emphasized the endearment He turned her around to face him. “Every story that was ever told about Doc is being told and retold. Herb is out there bragging about how Doc stood up to a bunch of outlaws and dared them to shoot him again. Tennihill is telling all he knows or heard about Doc during the War. By the end of the day folks will swear he was a saint”

  “None of them will ever accomplish in their lives what he did in his.” Tears flooded Jane’s eyes, and she had to look away from him.

  “Aren’t you about through here, Mrs. Henderson?” T.C. exchanged a knowing look with Maude. “As soon as you are, will you and Polly come on out on the porch?”

  T.C. untied the strings on Jane’s apron and hung it on the back of a chair. With his hand in the small of her back, he propelled her out into the hall and toward the door. Before they reached it, she dug in her heels and refused to take another step.

  “Just a minute. I look a mess.” She began poking the loose strands of hair into the knot on the back of her neck.

  “Honey, even if you looked a mess, which you don’t, you’d still be the prettiest woman in town.”

  “Stop calling me that and… stop lying. You know it isn’t true. You’re just buttering me up thinking you’ll not have to honor your promise to take me to the railroad, and you’ll have one more female in town.”

  “You don’t want me to call you honey?” His silver eyes glinted with amusement. Doc was right about her. She’s a pistol!

  “No. It’s nothing but senseless twaddle.” She stepped back and raked him with unkind eyes.

  “Humm—And you don’t want me to say you’re pretty, either. Is that it?’

  “More twaddle. It isn’t true and you know it.”

  “You really believe that, don’t you?”

  “I may have been stupid for coming here, Mr. Kilkenny. But I’m not blind.”

  “Mr. Kilkenny? We’ve kissed—several times. You know me well enough to call me T.C.”

  “I don’t even know what T.C. means.”

  “I’ll whisper it if you promise not to tell anyone.” He put his lips to her ear, nipped the lobe gently with his teeth, then kissed it. “Thunder Cloud,” he whispered.

  She jerked away. Her face was set. She refused to look at him when he tilted her chin to look into her face.

  “Someday we’re going to have to talk.”

  T.C. heard Maude and Polly come out of the kitchen and urged Jane ahead of him out the door.

  The preacher stood on the porch. At T.C.’s nod, he raised his hand and a hush fell over the waiting crowd. He began to pray in his beautiful vibrant voice.

  “Our Heavenly Father, we are gathered here to remember our brother, Nathan Foote, who has by now been welcomed into Your Kingdom and into Your warm embrace where he will have eternal life. While on earth he was a man among men, often risking his own precious life to help others. Bless this food provided by his friends. Bless those gathered here to honor his memory. Keep them safe. Help them by their hard work to prosper. I ask this in Your name. Amen.”

  The preacher stepped back.

  T.C., holding tightly to Jane’s arm so she could not move away, stepped forward. Drat him! He was deliberately making it appear that they were an engaged couple. A pair. Mates or mates-to-be.

  All Jane could do was stand there and fume silently. She endured being made a spectacle of by thinking of all the things she would like to do to him, including hitting him squarely in that beautiful, smiling, lying mouth!

  “Reverend Davis will be holding church services on Sunday. I’ve not yet figured out a place. As long as the weather holds I reckon we can hold the services outdoors.”

  “How long will ya be here, Parson?” A man from the back shouted. “I’m plannin’ to get married.”

  “I intend to make this my home. I hope to bring my family here in a few weeks. Mr. Kilkenny tells me that he will furnish building materials for a church. I’
m not a bad carpenter. Not good, but not bad.”

  “I’m the best dang carpenter in the territory. Ain’t no sense havin’ a church house that’ll cave in at the first snowfall.”

  “I’m better’n him, Parson.”

  “And I’m better’n him.” This brought hee-haws from the crowd.

  “Yo, Pastor”

  “I’ll do the mason work.”

  “Ya gotta roof, preacher.”

  “Bullfoot! Ya couldn’t hit a nail on the head with a sledge. Count me in.”

  On and on it went. The preacher seemed to have won over his future congregation.

  Chapter 15

  BOB Fresno watched Jane.

  He had heard something today that had given him hope that all was not well between Jane and Kilkenny. The talk was that she planned to leave Timbertown. A scatterbrained twit named Bessie was spreading it around that Kilkenny had promised to take Jane to the train if she would stay and nurse the doctor to the end.

  Bob could hardly believe his luck.

  He went through the motions of filling his plate, talking to the men who sat on the ground to eat, but his mind was busy. He was trying to think of a way he could get close to Jane. The opportunity came when she brought something from the house and walked down the row of tables to find a vacant place to set it.

  Bob put his plate on the ground and hurried to the table on the pretext of getting more bread. He reached around her and, not knowing he was there, she backed up against him.

  “Pardon.” She glanced over her shoulder.

  “Jane,” Bob said quickly, his hand clasping her upper arm. “I hear ya want to leave. I’ll take ya to the train, now, tonight. Just let me know when ya want to go.”

  “Thank you, but I’ve made arrangements.”

  “No, ya ain’t.”

  “Let go of me.”

  “I’d not hurt ya for the world, Jane. Kilkenny ain’t goin’ to let ya go. He wants ya in his bed.”

  “You are rude and crude.” She jerked her arm from his grasp and hurried into the house.

  It wasn’t what Bob had hoped for, but it was something. He would watch. If Kilkenny took her, he’d follow. You could bet your life on that.