“It wouldn’t be… yores.”
“Only if ya didn’t want it to be mine. I wasn’t Doc’s but I felt like I was.”
“I’d not want ya to… hate it. It wasn’t its fault.”
“Why’d I do that? The bastard just planted the seed. I’ll raise it. It’ll be mine. Don’t ya want to wed me?”
“I want it more’n anythin’ in the world.”
“Can I kiss ya? I been wantin’ to since that day ya swooned and I carried ya to the bed.”
“I ain’t sure I know how.”
“Me neither.” He chuckled. “I kissed a saloon gal once. Don’t think she wanted me to, but I wanted to know why folks sneak around to do it.”
“Did ya find out?”
“It wasn’t what I thought it’d be. I never wanted to do it again till I saw you.”
“I’d like ya to kiss me, Herb.”
Polly closed her eyes when his fingers lifted her chin and his lips softly met hers. She felt her insides warm with pleasure and allowed herself the pure joy of feeling his nose against her cheek and the rough drag of the whiskers on his chin. His mouth was warm and careful with hers. She felt none of the panic she had felt before when the freighter had come to her room and grabbed her. This was different. A lovely feeling unfolded in her midsection and traveled slowly through her body.
She wanted it to last forever. His lips moved against hers ever so slightly. He held her gently as if she were something so fragile she would break. His mouth left hers and moved to her cheeks, her brows, and touched her closed eyelids. She leaned against him, her arms finding their way around him. A surge of pleasure rushed through her when his lips returned to hers and she heard the soft moan that came from her throat.
Herb lifted his head and looked down at her.
“Did ya like it?”
“Oh, yes. I didn’t know it would be like this.”
“I wasn’t too rough? I’m so big. Yo’re so little.”
“Ya wasn’t rough.” She reached for his face with her hands and stroked his cheeks with her palms. “Yo’re sweeter than I ever thought a man could be. I didn’t want ya to stop.”
“Ya mean that?”
“’Course, I do, silly.”
“Ya liked it?”
“I liked it a lot.”
“Polly, sweet Polly. I like ever’thing about ya.” His arms tightened and he hugged her to him fiercely, then let her go. “I got to be careful not to hurt ya. I like to hold ya. It makes me feel like I could… whip ever’ man in this town with a willow switch.”
Her laugh was soft and just for him.
“Ya can!” she said staunchly. “Ya can do anythin’ ya want.”
“Polly—” He held her away from him and looked earnestly into her face. “I don’t have much in the way a money. I’m plannin’ on askin’ T.C. and Colin to take me on to work at their place. I ain’t a town man. I stayed in town with Doc, but I want a little place where I can run a few cows and maybe horses—”
“Whatever ya do is all right.”
“Ya sure? There ain’t much in the way of company on a ranch, but we could visit a town once in a while.”
“I won’t miss town. I’ll have you, Herb.”
“Ah, Polly, when I look at ya, my insides gets all shaky. I swear ta ya, I’ll take care a ya the best I know how.”
His arms held her gently. She nestled in the warm protection of his embrace and crooned to him.
“I’ll take care of ya, too, my sweet man. Ya’ll not be by yoreself ever again.”
Chapter 16
JANE did not know if she was awake or asleep. She opened her eyes and saw nothing but darkness. Her head pounded with a pain that throbbed through every part of her body. She gradually became aware that she was sitting on the floor, her back and head leaning against something hard. Her legs, folded beneath her, began to cramp. She tried to straighten them and discovered she was in a small boxed-in place.
As her mind cleared the stench of the- outhouse was strong and repugnant. She realized where she was. But what was she doing on the floor between the seat and the door? She tried to get up from her cramped position. Her head seemed to weigh a ton. Her hand reached out for something to pull on and found a rough board, but her strength was gone and her head felt as if it were being pounded on with a hammer.
She sank back down and put her hand to her face to pull away whatever it was that clung to her cheeks. Her fingers slid across her face and followed the thick substance into her hair.
When she realized what her fingers were trailing through, waves of shock, terror and nausea swept over her. The heavy cloud of horror that dropped around her came close to robbing her of her senses. She grabbed at her skirt to wipe away the bodily waste from the cesspit, only to discover that it was not only on her face, but on her hands, her arms, and her clothing.
Sobbing with terror and shame, Jane slid down onto the floor of the privy. She drew her knees up to her chest. Hysteria spread through her brain like a vicious serpent, engulfing her. It was more than she could endure. She slipped back into blessed darkness.
T.C. sat at Doc’s desk in the surgery and listened for any sound of movement upstairs. Maude had been in the kitchen when he returned to the house and told him Jane had gone to bed. He had feared she would not be here.
The lamp shone down on his dark head as he bent over the papers he had taken from the leather folder Doc had entrusted to his care. He finally put them aside and leaned back in the chair. He couldn’t concentrate on figures and legal documents when his mind was awash with thoughts of Jane and her odd behavior.
His father had insisted that he leave the Wyoming Territory and see some of the world before he settled down. He had visited the big cities in the east, had traveled across the ocean to London and Paris. While in that dazzling city, he had decided that there was no place he’d rather be than home.
T.C. had been a lumberjack, a drover, a teamster and a lawman and had spent some time at law school. He had met women of all types, from society matrons and their pretty but useless daughters to ranch and farm women who were as handy as their men with a gun. Not one of them had even come close to tying him in knots as Jane was doing. There was an indefinable something between him and the prim Miss Jane Love. He wanted to be with her every moment. At night he lay awake thinking about her.
He was reasonably sure she felt the same. She had melted against him when he kissed her. Her mouth had clung sweetly to his. A woman would not kiss a man as she had done if there were not some feeling involved.
T.C. had tried to tell himself that his fascination with her was due to the pleasure it gave him to tease her. She had a sassy way when she got her back up. He’d always gotten along with women, what few he’d had to deal with. As a rule they liked him well enough—all but Patrice, and he knew well the reason for that. At one time he had dealt a blow to her pride and she had turned her charms on Colin.
The door squeaked open and he heard Herb’s voice, then Polly’s. They came down the hall and soon were standing in the doorway, Herb behind Polly, his hands on her shoulders.
“Me and Polly’s gettin’ married.” Herb blurted out the news. His face was wreathed in smiles, Polly’s beet-red.
“Well, now. Congratulations.” T.C. stood and held out his hand. Herb reached around Polly to grasp it eagerly. “When will this happy event take place?”
“As soon as I can talk to the preacher. I’m not wantin’ folks to get the idea… that Polly’s babe ain’t mine,” Herb explained in his blunt way. He glanced down when Polly’s elbow dug into his stomach. “T.C. knows ‘bout it, honey-girl.”
Polly was staring at the floor. She looked as if she were about to burst into tears.
“No one knows but me and Jane and maybe Sunday. You’re getting a good man, Polly. I’ve known Herb for more than three years. One bad thing about this fellow you’d better look out for. He’s the worst dang-blasted cook that ever slapped a skillet over a fire.”
&n
bsp; Polly raised tear-bright eyes.
“I ain’t got no doubt at all that he’s a good man. He won’t have to cook. I can cook as good a meal as ya ever et if I got the stuff to do it with.”
Herb’s big hands squeezed her arms. He laughed in her ear. He seemed not to mind at all that T.C. watched as he lovingly nuzzled his nose into her hair.
“Ya better run on up to bed, little love. We got plans to make tomorrow and I got a thin’ to talk over with T.C.”
Polly turned to leave, then turned back to ask, “Did Jane go to the other… place to sleep?”
“She’s still here.”
“I was scared she’d go.”
“So was I,” T.C. muttered the words as Herb walked with Polly to the foot of the stairs.
He sat back down in the chair. He had papers to sort out before he could put down figures. He wished Jane were here to help him; but as she was involved, it was best he do this first part alone. He folded the papers and placed them in a drawer of the desk and waited for Herb to come back in. He was reasonably sure he knew what Herb wanted to talk about.
Polly went up the stairs wondering if it was sinful to be so happy on the day they had buried Dr. Foote, the man Herb thought the world of. Even if Jane was asleep, she would wake her and tell her the news. She had to share this miracle or she would burst!
The room was as dark as the night when she entered. Moving slowly with her hands in front of her, she felt her way to the end of the bed. Her toe connected with something hard. She stumbled and caught herself on the iron bedstead. She paused to consider if she should light the lamp. She desperately needed to use the chamber pot and it was somewhere under the bed. Holding on to the bedstead, Polly moved back along it until she could reach out and touch the bureau that held the lamp.
A minute later, with the light from the lamp illuminating the room, she turned back to the bed to get the chamber pot.
Jane was not in the bed!
With a frown puckering her brow, she used the pot. It was a blessed relief to empty her full bladder. When she finished she replaced the lid and pushed the pot back under the bed. It was then that she noticed Jane’s nightdress lying at the foot. All of her things except for her shawl were packed in the closed suitcase.
Polly began to worry. It was not like Jane to be away from the house, especially at night. Polly went into the hall and stood for a moment outside Doc’s old room. A light shone under the door and she heard Maude’s voice. She knocked softly. Maude opened the door.
“Is Jane in here?”
“No. She went to bed quite a while ago.”
“She ain’t there. Her nightdress is on the bed. If she’d gone to stay with Sunday, she’d a took it and her other things.”
“Is she downstairs?”
“I don’t think so.”
“She may be in the kitchen—”
“No light was on.”
Maude came out into the hall, crossed it and looked into the room.
“The last I saw of her was when Stella and I came. She said she was going to the outhouse and then to bed. She may be with Mr. Kilkenny.”
“She ain’t. She’d not go out at night and not tell nobody. She’s scared to be out at night.”
“She knew I was here. I think she would have told me if she was leaving.”
“I’m goin’ to ask Mr. Kilkenny. If she went to the hotel, or the rooming house, he’d know.”
“I’ll come with you. Stay here, Stella. I’ll be right back.”
Herb looked up as Polly appeared in the doorway of the surgery. The worried look on her face drew him to his feet.
“What’s the matter, honey-girl?”
“Jane ain’t up there.
“Is she with Sunday?” T.C. asked, rising to his feet.
“Her nightdress and suitcase are here. I’m worried.”
T.C. strode to the doorway. Polly and Maude stepped aside. He looked over Polly’s head and spoke to Maude.
“You said she’d gone to bed.”
“She told me she was goin’ to bed soon. I thought after she went to the… privy. That was an hour or so ago.”
By the time she had finished speaking, T.C. was taking the stairs two at a time. The door to the room Jane shared with Polly was open. It was as Polly said. Her nightdress lay at the foot of the bed. Her valise was there. Only a shawl hung on the peg on the wall. T.C.’s heart began to slam against his chest.
“Herb,” he shouted on his way downstairs. “Find Colin.” His voice was unnecessarily loud and harsh.
“I’m here.” Colin opened the door. “What’er you yellin’ for? What’s wrong?”
“Jane—” T.C. couldn’t bring himself to say that she was gone. “Did she go to stay with Sunday?”
“I just come from there.” A frown spread across Colin’s face. “She wasn’t there. Isn’t she here?”
“No. Her things are her, but no one has seen her for an hour or more.” T.C. made no attempt to hide his anxiety. “Somebody go see if she’s at the henhouse.” He unconsciously used Sunday’s word for the women’s bunkhouse.
“I’ll do that,” Maude said quickly. “If Polly will stay with Stella.” Without waiting for an answer she was out the front door.
“Get a lantern.” T.C. was strapping on his gun belt.
“You think you’ll need that?” Colin asked.
“I will if somebody’s got her someplace she don’t want to be.” Herb came from the kitchen with a lighted lantern. “Is that the only one we’ve got?”
“Bill’s got a couple.”
“Something’s not right. I feel it. If we don’t find her soon, I’ll ring the fire bell. We’ll turn out every man in town to search.”
“Calm down, T.C.” Colin took his own gun belt from the hall peg and strapped it on. “She may have gone to the hotel. They’ve got some beds ready.”
“She wouldn’t go without telling Maude. She’d not leave her things. She guards that suitcase as if it were full of gold nuggets. But go look. Herb, go to the livery and see if anyone has left town in the last hour or two. Do you know where that fellow Fresno stays?” he asked Colin.
“No, but Tennihill does.”
“Go up and stay with Stella.” Herb gently urged Polly toward the stairs.
The men were gone when Maude returned to the house with Sunday. When she didn’t find Jane in the henhouse, she had gone to the boarding house and roused Sunday. First Colin, then Herb returned to the porch where Maude and Sunday waited. Minutes later, T.C. arrived with Tennihill.
“Has anyone seen her?” T.C. demanded.
“No,” Colin replied. “I didn’t ask anyone either. Let’s don’t rouse the town yet.”
“Did anyone look in the outhouse?” Sunday asked. “Maude said that’s where she was goin’ when she saw her last.”
“I did,” T.C. said. “The door is shut, the swivel bar down. Let’s spread out one more time, then we’ll ring the bell. If you find her, whistle two sharp ones.”
Maude had gone into the house to get a shawl. When she returned, Sunday was waiting on the porch with a lantern.
“Could somebody, maybe a Indian, a carried her off her when she went to the outhouse?” Maude asked.
“Colin said they hadn’t had no Indian trouble here for a long while. If anybody carried her off it’d more’n likely be one a them horny lumberjacks.”
“Ah… no! She’s such a nice woman. I’d bet she’s had a hard life. At times I see sadness in her eyes.”
Maude cringed inwardly. She knew about a hard life. But she hoped that now it was behind her and Stella. She walked with Sunday around the house.
“It’s spooky here in the dark.”
“I got my pistol in my pocket,” Sunday replied. “I don’t go out at night without it. Ain’t no tellin’ what kind a varmint ya might meet up with. Could have four legs. Could have two.”
The moon had come up. It shone brightly, clearly outlining the outhouse. The women went toward it, lifted the la
ntern and saw that the board was turned to keep the door closed. They parted; one went on one side, one the other. They looked in the underbrush behind it and, finding nothing, retraced their steps back to the outhouse.
As Sunday passed the privy, she paused. Maude went on a few steps, then stopped.
“What—?”
“Shhh…”
A low, soft, keening sound came from inside the privy.
“Did ya hear that?” Maude stood close to Sunday.
Sunday nodded. She handed Maude the lantern and took the pistol from her pocket. They moved to the privy door. Sunday placed her ear against it. The sound that she heard was like that of a wounded animal suffering intense pain.
“Somethin’s in there. Stand back! It could be a mad coon or polecat.”
Maude held the lantern high as Sunday opened the door a crack. She kept her shoulder against it should something try to spring out. When nothing happened, she opened it wider, then wider. Both women gasped in shock, then relief, when the light from the lantern shone down on a figure huddled in a corner, her face and head covered with the skirt of her dress and her petticoat. They knew it was Jane. Her knee-length drawers were all that covered her thighs. She was hugging herself with her arms, shaking, and rocking back and forth.
“Oh, my Gawd!” Maude exclaimed. “What’s the matter with her?”
“Lord a’mercy!” The hand holding the gun fell to Sunday’s side. She shoved the gun in her pocket and knelt down. “Jane—” She said the name several times. Jane didn’t respond until Sunday tried to pull the dress away from her head. Then she lashed out with hands covered with filth. One glimpse at her face and the two women rocked back.
“Oh, Lord! Christ in heaven!” Bile rose up in Maude’s throat and she gagged.
Sunday recovered first.
“Now ain’t the time to get squishy!” she said sharply. “Go let ‘em know we found her afore T.C. rings the bell.”
Maude set the lantern on the ground and ran up the path toward the house. A swinging light came around from the side and she called out.
“We found her.”
Two sharp blasts of a whistle sounded, and the man hurried down the path.
The Listening Sky Page 20