“You a lawman, ain’t ya?” someone asked.
“Why’d ya think that?” Tennihill asked in reply. “If I was, I’d a got him.” He let out a dry chuckle. “He was laid out by a slip of a gal with a little old pop gun. Miss Sunday, yo’re due a reward. A wanted poster came in on the stage for one Robert E. Lee Fresno, better known as Bob. Ya’ll be collectin’ ya a bounty.”
“Hurrah for Miss Sunday!” Fielding, a logger from the north camp whose family lived in town, shouted, and the group of men took it up.
“I’d a shot him in the back and he’d not a got this far, but he had Jane over his shoulder.”
Jane stirred and tried to push away from the arms holding her.
“You’re all right, honey,” T.C. murmured. “You’re safe. Just lie still for a minute.”
“T.C.? What—?” She groaned. “My head!”
“That head of yours has taken a beating lately.”
“Why am I on the ground?”
“Bob Fresno was trying to carry you off. He hit you, knocked you out.”
“I remember now. I saw him just before—Sunday! Where’s Sunday?’
“I’m here, Jane. I’m all right.”
“Where is… he?”
“Sunday shot him.”
“Is he… dead?”
“Yes, honey. He’s dead.”
“Thank goodness Sunday wasn’t hurt.”
T.C. stood and lifted Jane to stand beside him. He put his arms around her for support, and she leaned against him.
Herb had gone through Fresno’s pockets and put what he found in his hat. He had a roll of money, a pocketknife, chewing tobacco and a fancy cameo pin wrapped in a cloth. Herb took the saddlebags, rolled blankets and a food pack from the horse. All Fresno’s belongings lay in a pile beside his body.
“He was ready to trail somewhere. What’ll we do with this pile of bones, T.C.?”
“Roll him in his saddle blanket and leave him in the barn till morning. Fielding, will you give Herb a hand?”
“Shore will. Ya go and take care of the womenfolk. Miss Sunday, I’d sign on to ride the river with ya anyday. Air ya spoke fer, honey?”
“Fielding, you old flirt. I’ve a mind to tell yore wife what ya said,” Sunday retorted sassily.
“Ya do and she’ll clean my clock.”
“It would serve ya right if she made you sleep on the floor for a week!” Sunday’s voice was shrill and forced.
T.C.’s arms were still about Jane. He turned and looked at Sunday.
“Are you all right, Sunday?”
“’Course she ain’t.” Tennihill took Sunday’s arm. “I’d be plumb proud to walk ‘er to the house. She’s got enough grit for a dozen gals her size, but she’s used up a heap of it.”
“I don’t need no help.”
“I aim to give it anyhow. If I was twenty years younger, no, make it ten—Hell, if I was five years younger I’d be after ya, gal, like ya was a swaller of fresh spring water when I ain’t had no drink in a week.”
“Well, now, ain’t I got somethin’ to crow about? I got two fellers wantin’ to court—” Sunday’s voice trailed away and she never finished what she was saying. She slumped in Tennihill’s arms in a dead faint.
On arriving at the house, Maude and Stella had gone quickly to their room.
“What’ll we do, Mamma?”
“Maybe he didn’t see us.”
“He did,” Stella insisted. “He looked right at me. I moved behind Polly and peeked around. He was staring at you.”
“There was so many people there, how did you happen to pick him out of the crowd?”
“I don’t know. I just saw him there on the hotel porch. I hate him! I wish he’d die!”
“Oh, honey. I was so hoping he’d not find us. But he has, so he must know the name we’re using.”
“Will he come here?”
“Not tonight. He’ll come in the morning as the successful man all broken up because his family left him after a very minor misunderstanding. Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. He’s practiced it for years. He could talk his way out of a jug with a cork in it.”
Maude heaved a big sigh and sat down on the bed. Stella snuggled against her and began to cry.
“I don’t want to go back there. I want to stay here.”
“So do I.”
“You won’t let him take me?” Stella asked in alarm.
“We’ll stay together. If you go, I’ll go.”
“What… if he don’t let you come?”
“I promised, baby, that I’d stay with you and I will. Now don’t worry.”
Maude hugged the child who meant more to her than anything in the world. If she had to kill Eldon Cottington to keep Stella out of his hands, she would. It would mean she would forfeit her own life, but Stella would be safe. Jane would take her to raise, or perhaps Polly and Herb. There was no family member to come forward to claim her.
Thinking about it now, Maude realized that she should have killed the man long ago.
Stella cried herself to sleep. Maude put her in the bed and covered her, then sat in the darkened room and tried to plan. There was no use running. She should have known that he had the ways and the means to find them. It had been a desperate on-the-spot decision that had caused her to sign on to work here. The last beating, when she thought he would kill her and Stella would be left alone with him, had given her the courage to steal the child out of the house and get on the train.
She had gambled and she had lost.
T.C. lay awake holding his wife in his arms. After bringing her and Sunday back to the house, Herb had gone to fetch Polly, then had stayed with the women while T.C. and Tennihill had patrolled the town, keeping an eye on the rowdies until about midnight when the fiddlers stopped playing, the lanterns were taken down and dirt was thrown on the bonfires. By then, the families had all gone home and only a few die-hards remained.
What more could happen to this sweet woman?
He was proud of the way she had accepted his assurance that her parentage was not important to him. She had given him her complete trust. She was not a woman who tried to hide her feelings and was surprisingly open about them for someone who had not had much love in her life. She hadn’t wavered in her determination not to allow the threat from this unknown person to interfere with their future together.
Tennihill didn’t think it possible that Fresno was the one who had sent the threatening notes and had attacked Jane out at the privy. Fresno had not had many women reject him as Jane had done, and Tennihill seemed to think Fresno had wanted to prove to himself that he still was the lady’s man he considered himself to be.
On the other hand, T.C. thought it possible the man had fallen desperately in love with Jane. He himself, certainly had.
By the time T.C. and Tennihill had walked back uptown, everyone had been buzzing with the news that Sunday had shot Bob Fresno. Not wanting any more gossip about Jane than necessary, T.C. had let it be known that the man was disgruntled about not getting the job he wanted and was trying to get back at T.C. by attacking his wife. Folks had seemed to accept the story.
Jane’s soft thigh worked its way between his muscular ones. She snuggled closer and slept like a contented kitten.
T.C.’s arms tightened about his wife, and a low groan came from his throat when he considered what could have happened if not for Sunday and the pistol in her pocket. He had wanted to have the new doctor come and take a look at both Jane and Sunday, but neither one would allow it.
In the morning he would insist.
Morning came, bringing the first light snowfall and also trouble from an unexpected source.
T.C. awoke at dawn and looked down at his sleeping wife. He tried to ease out of bed, but she awoke as soon as his arms were no longer around her.
“You gettin’ up now?”
“Yes, sweetheart, but you stay right here. I’ll bring you some coffee in a little bit.”
“I love you,” she said sleepily.
“I love you, too.” He kissed her on the nose.
He dressed and went to the kitchen, where Maude was preparing breakfast.
“Morning.” He had washed his hands, splashed water on his face and dried himself with the towel before he realized he had received a mere grunt in reply to his greeting. “Polly said you and Stella came home early last night. Is Stella all right?”
“She was tired. Do you want eggs, Mr. Kilkenny? I’m cooking smoked meat and making gravy.”
“No eggs for me, thanks. Jane and Sunday will sleep a little later after what happened last night.”
“What happened?” She turned quickly, alarm on her face.
“That’s right. You don’t know. You were in bed when we came home last night. We had a hell of a night, Maude.”
“What happened?” she asked again.
“Sunday killed Bob Fresno.”
“Killed Bob Fresno! Forevermore! That girl’s a rare one. She’d tackle the devil himself.”
“If not for her, Fresno would have stolen Jane and been gone. I wouldn’t have had a clue where to find her.”
“I’m glad Sunday’s been staying here nights. She’s been mighty unhappy over what Mrs. Cabeza has been tellin’ around about Mr. Tallman.”
“That’ll work itself out in time.”
While Maude stirred the gravy, T.C. gave her details on the events of the night before.
“I thought there was something bad about that Fresno the day he came here.”
“I didn’t know he came here. When was that?”
“Before Doc died. Polly let him in ‘cause he said he was sick. He followed Jane into the surgery and shut the door. I heard her telling him to open it. I was about to go up and get Herb when he came down. It was when Doc took the bad turn. Herb pounded on the door for Jane. Fresno let her out, but he was madder than a ruptured goose when he went out the front door.”
“I never knew that was Fresno.”
“Jane wasn’t wantin’ to worry anybody. Doc died right after that.”
Maude was glad for the chance to visit. For a few minutes it kept her mind off what lay ahead. Sometime during the night she had wondered if she should tell T.C. about Judge Eldon Cottington, but had decided against it. The judge would come here, smooth as silk, and make her out a liar, a fallen woman he had tried to set on the straight and narrow path, a woman he had hired to work in his home and who had kidnapped his daughter!
There was one way and only one that Stella would ever be free of him.
Chapter 26
IT was mid-morning when the knock sounded on the door. Herb, walking down the hall from the kitchen where he and Polly had been talking with the others about the previous night’s events, went to open it with a smile on his boyish face.
The man who stood there looked to Herb as if he had just stepped out of a mail-order catalog. He was big, robust, and wore a long, dark wool overcoat and a fashionable square-crowned hat. He carried a pair of fine kid gloves, and a large gold ring gleamed on the middle finger of his left hand. Snow had not dared to stick to his shiny black shoes.
“Good morning,” he said pleasantly. “I’d like to see Mr. Kilkenny, please.”
“Why shore. Come on in outta the snow. T.C.’s there in the office.” Herb opened the door wide and stepped aside for him to enter.
The man removed his hat when he entered and smoothed his hair with the palm of his hand. A heavy mustache, fanned out and curled at the ends, gave him a look of solid respectability.
Herb pushed the office door open and yelled, “Somebody to see ya.”
T.C. rose from his chair as the man entered. He recognized him immediately as the man who had come in on the stage and had gone directly into the hotel.
“I’m Kikenny.”
“Judge Eldon Cottington, sir. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. You’ve done a magnificent job here reviving this town.”
“Thank you. Take off your coat and have a chair.”
While this was being done, T.C. sat back down. Cottington. The name sing-songed through his mind. Where had he heard it before?
Judge Cottington seated himself, then reached into the inside pocket of his coat and brought out two cigars.
“Would you care for one? I get them special from Cuba.”
“No thanks. But here’s a match for yours.”
T.C. moved a match box across the desk toward him and waited for him to light the cigar. Something about the man’s bearing and attitude, smooth as it was, put T.C. on the alert.
“What can I do for you?”
“Nothing, really. I came merely as a courtesy to tell you I’m taking my wife and child back to Laramie.”
“I can’t imagine that being important to me.”
“She signed on to work for you. I’ve talked to one of your solicitors, J.E. Askland, in Laramie. He informed me that you have been put to some expense. You paid her fare to come here and for several days in a hotel. I’ll reimburse you for those expenses.”
T.C. didn’t say anything for a long moment. He leaned back in the chair and studied the man. He was in his late forties. His hair was thin on top. He had sagging pouches under eyes that were as cold as sharpened steel. Cottington. Where had he heard that name?
“Who is your wife?” T.C. asked. He was sure that he knew yet could not believe that Maude would be married to this man.
“She’s calling herself Mrs. Henderson. She has my daughter, Stella, with her.”
The door that had been left ajar was pushed open. Maude stood there. Behind her were Herb, Jane, and Sunday. She had somehow found the courage to tell them who was in the office with Mr. Kilkenny and why.
“I am not your wife, not your legal wife that is.”
“Come in and shut the door, my dear. You needn’t make a spectacle of yourself. Where is Stella?”
“These folks are my friends, the only friends I’ve had for ten long years. Stella is with another one of my good friends. She doesn’t want to see you. She tried to hide when she heard you come in.”
“We need to talk privately.”
“No. I want my friends here as my witnesses.”
“Witnesses to what, my dear? This is no court of law. I’ve come to take you and Stella home.”
“Home? You call that house a home? It was a prison, a torture chamber. I’m not going back. I’ll never go back and neither will Stella.”
“Now, now, Maude. Don’t excite yourself. You know what happens when you do. You’re unable to think clearly and you make rash decisions.”
The judge got up from the chair, pulled himself up to his full height and walked toward her with his hand outstretched. He stopped suddenly when Maude pulled a long, thin cutting knife from her pocket.
“Stay back or I’ll cut you. I swear I will.”
A look of complete surprise came over the judge’s face.
“What has happened to you? Threatening me with a knife could get you into a lot of trouble. I couldn’t have a woman raising my daughter who had been convicted of threatening a judge.”
“She’s not your daughter. I’m not your wife, although for years I endured your rutting in order to stay with Stella.”
Maude had squared her shoulders and had not taken her eyes off the judge. Jane and Sunday, standing quietly on either side of her, were all the support she needed.
“That’s enough!” Cottington said sternly. “I’ll not have your insolence, and I’ll not have you airing our family differences in public.”
“We’re not a family,” Maude shouted back. “I was a whore working for a roof over my head and taking care of your brother’s child so that you could spend the money he left her. This”—she waved her hand to include the others in the room—”is a family. And they have accepted me and Stella as a part of it.”
“I’m warning you, Maude. You’re about to push me too far, and you will suffer the consequences.”
“What more can you do to me than you’ve already done, Judg
e Cottington? You’ve broken my nose, split my lip, knocked out my jaw teeth, and broken my arm. You’ve stomped me, screwed me, spit on me and humiliated me. You’ve—”
“Shut your lying mouth,” he shouted. His control had snapped. His face was fiery red; his hands shook.
For the first time in ten years Maude was not one bit frightened by the outburst. The friends behind her, Sunday’s hand on her back, gave her courage to look into the eyes of the man she had feared for so long.
“You’ll not break Stella’s spirit. She’s got her father’s guts and will stand up to you. You hated him because he’d not knuckle under to you. Stella is just a child, and you’ve cowed her by telling her that she’s ugly and stupid and that her mother was a whore. You’ve slapped her face, beaten her little behind till it bled and made her go a full day without a bite to eat.”
“Stop! Or, by God, you’ll wish you had.”
The judge was so angry that he forgot about the knife, and with a hand raised to slap her, he took two angry steps toward her. Before the judge knew what was happening, the barrel of Herb’s gun was under his chin, tilting his head so that he had to look down his nose to see Herb’s face.
“Touch her an’ I’ll blow yore head clear back to Laramie while the rest a ya stays here.”
“Get… get away from me, you ruffian. Don’t you know who I am?”
“’Pears to me ya ain’t nothin’ but a duded-up mule’s ass. A man can’t get much sorrier than one that’d hurt a little thin’ like Stella. ‘Sides, I ain’t carin’ if yo’re Abe Lincoln come back to life. Ya ain’t takin’ Maude and Stella back if they don’t want to go.”
Herb backed the judge across the room until he was up against the wall. Jane and Sunday stared. They’d never seen the mild-mannered Herb so angry.
“I’ll have a federal marshal here in a week.”
Jane put her arm around Maude and whispered to her. “Don’t worry. You’re doing fine. T.C. and Herb will take care of him.”
“Herb, let him sit down,” T.C. said evenly. He had stood up quickly when the judge had started for Maude but had sat back down when he saw that Herb was handling the situation. “I’ve just remembered where I heard the name Judge Cottington.”
The Listening Sky Page 32