The Listening Sky

by Dorothy Garlock

  There was, however, a sadness, behind Sunday’s jovial behavior. She had mentioned to Jane earlier in the day that she was considering taking die stage back to the rail station when it again went south, which would be in a few days.

  “I’ve got no future here, Jane. I need to be rippin’ and rearin’. It isn’t my nature to sit in a room and sew all day long, or stand behind a stove and make bear claws or behind a counter and show ribbons and doodads to flitter-headed ninnies like Paralee. I don’t know why I ever thought I could.”

  “Give it a little more time. Please, Sunday, I don’t want to lose you.”

  On a cold bat bright sunshiny day several weeks after Potty and Herb were married, Jane and Sunday washed clothes and hung them on me line behind the house. There woold ant be many more days when clothes would dry outside without freezing first. In the middle of the afternoon they took the laundry inside, where Maude was heating the flat irons on the cookstove.

  Stella and Buddy Winters were playing on the swing Herb had hung from a limb of the big tree beside the house. Mrs. Winters had loosened her tight rein on the boy, and he was out and around town most of the day.

  “She’s lettin’ that boy run wild,” Maude exclaimed at one time. “And he’s a bright child. His curiosity is what gets him in trouble.”

  “She works hard and does a good business.” Jane dipped her hand into a pan of water dampened a shot and rolled it tightly. “Although, according to Bill, her bread and rolls are not as good as yours.”

  “Go on with you! Bill just doesn’t like her very much.” Maude scoffed, but Mushed at the praise.

  The door slammed and Stella came running to the kitchen where the women worked.

  “Mamma! Aunt Jane! Come looky at what’s comin’. C’mon, Aunt Sunday. It’s a king m a coach.”

  “A king in Timbertown? Landsakes!” Maude exclaimed.

  The women went to the door. Stella dashed out to hug the porch post and gawk. It was a rare sight in Timbertown or in any other small northern town to see a fancy carriage drawn by a matching pair of thoroughbred horses with plumes on their bridles. The carriage was escorted by six riders all dressed in bright, colorful uniforms. They rode with heads up, backs straight, as if they were in a parade. And indeed it was as near to a parade as Timbertown had ever had.

  The driver sat on a high seat in front of the carriage. He wore the same kind of uniform as the escort riders. In the back, wrapped in furs, rode a man in a high-crowned hat. Lolling beside him, pointing this way and that, showing the visitor what had been accomplished during the town’s renovation, was Colin Tallman.

  Sunday spied him immediately.

  “Why that… snake! He’s got the guts of a mule to come crawlin’ back here!”

  “Who is that man? He does look kinda… like a king.” Jane began to giggle. “Could he be the dreaded Ramon Guzman Cabeza?”

  “He don’t look like much,” Sunday admitted. “But them fellows ridin’ shotgun look tough enough to tackle a bear with a willow switch. That last one’s leadin’ Del Norte.”

  As the procession passed the house, Colin looked toward it, smiled broadly, and lifted his hat in a greeting. Jane and Maude waved, but Sunday turned up her nose and looked away.

  “If I’m lucky that little king’s bringin’ the skunk back here to hang him,” Sunday muttered.

  “Seems awful cheerful to be goin’ to his hangin’,” Maude remarked, but his face wore a worried frown.

  “He’d make a show of it,” Sunday replied scornfully.

  Watching her friend, Jane noticed the high color in her cheeks and the clenching of her hand.

  “I wonder where T.C. is.”

  T.C. had been told by the mail rider an hour earlier that he had overtaken Colin Tallman riding with a high-born Mexican who was escorted by a half-dozen men. Because T.C. had realized immediately who it was, he had gone to the hotel to tell the manager to fire up the round Acme heaters in a group of rooms for Señor Ramon Guzman-Cabeza and his men. At first sighting, T.C. went out onto the hotel porch to await their arrival.

  The carriage stopped in front of the hotel, and one of the riders went ahead to hold the bridles of the nervous team while the señor and his guest stepped down. Colin alighted and went to take the reins of his horse. Ramon threw off the furs and stepped down to shake hands with T.C.

  “Welcome to Timbertown, Ramon. I never thought to see you in this cold country.”

  “As you know, T.C., I am not fond of the cold and stayed at our home in the mountains only when I had no other choice.”

  Señor Guzman-Cabeza was small. Without the hat, his head would have come level with T.C.’s chin; but his erect carriage created the impression that he was taller. His carefully shaped black goatee and the sideburns that curved down to his jaws brought an air dignity to his small stature. He had sharp dark eyes and a full-lipped red mouth.

  “It’s good that you came now. In a few weeks the south pass could very well be filled with snow.”

  “Yi, yi, yi,” Ramon muttered and shook his head. “Why do you live here, T.C., when you could live where it is warm?”

  T.C. grinned. “Every man has his preferences, Ramon.”

  Ramon’s eyes went past T.C. to the door of the hotel when Patrice came running out. A thin colorful shawl was draped around her and her shiny black hair flowed to her waist.

  “Ramon! Ramon! I’ve missed you—”

  Patrice raced down the steps, threw herself against the small man, and wrapped her arms about his neck, being careful not to disturb the tall hat on his head. They were almost equal in height, Patrice perhaps an inch or two taller.

  “Control yourself, Señora,” Ramon said coolly. “You know I hate such displays in public.”

  “I know, Ramon, but I am so glad to see you. Come to my room. It’s nice and warm there.”

  “Presently. I must see about my men first”

  “Can’t Francisco do it?”

  “Francisco Perez is no longer a member of my house-hold, Señora. You saw to that when you persuaded him to escort you to this place. Go along.” He made a shooing motion with one of his gloved hands. “You will have my full attention presently. I promise you.”

  Patrice fled back into the hotel, hoping the rebuff by her husband had gone unnoticed by the gawkers who had come out of the stores to watch.

  Colin waited until the baggage was unloaded and piled on the hotel porch, then mounted his horse to lead the way to the livery and to the barn where the carriage could be kept.

  After Ramon spoke at length in Spanish to his men, he allowed T.C. to lead him into the hotel lobby. He took dainty stops hi boots with two-inch beds. When he threw off his thick wool cape, k was apparent that Ramon was no longer slim and wiry. He had put on weight, and his small body was as round as a barrel.

  “Colin tells me that you have taken a wife.” Ramon carefully removed his tall hat His black hair was still thick and brushed up to give him maximum height.

  T.C. had forgotten that Ramon did everything carefully.

  “I came down with a bad case of lovesickness. She’s everything I ever wanted in a wife.” T.C.’s expression showed his pleasure while speaking about his lady love. Ramon felt a small flash of envy.

  “Love! Bah! Did she bring money to your coffers? Can she arouse you again and again to new heights of passion? Is she so young and beautiful that men envy you? What is love if she does none of these things?”

  T.C. knew that Ramon expected no response, and he offered none.

  “I’ll take my leave, Ramon. I know you’re eager to speak to Patrice.”

  “Eager is not the word I would use, but, yes, I have matters to discuss with my wife. We shall leave in the morning to catch the eastbound train in the late afternoon. I have reserved a private car for myself and my wife and another for my men, the carriage, and the horses.”

  Colin came in and clapped T.C. on the shoulder.

  “How’s the wife?”

  “Fine. You
took off in such hurry she thinks you don’t like her.”

  “I had things to do. Fellow in the livery said Sunday had killed Bob Fresno. Is she all right?”

  “She did, and she is, It’s quite a story, and she is quite a woman.”

  “I’d like to meet this woman who’s got Colin so crazy that he talked of nothing but her for ten miles at a time, Ramon said.

  “She’s not your type, Ramon,” T.C. said with a wide grin.

  “She’s a crack shot; she’s no slouch with a hammer and nail, and she claims to be the best shingle-maker in the territory.”

  “Shingle-maker? Shingles that are put on a roof? Yi, yi, yi. You’ll not have any competition from me, Colin. I like my women dainty and compliant.”

  “I’m going to marry her if she’ll have me. I’m hoping to take her to New Mexico to meet my folks. You’ll meet her then.”

  “It will be my pleasure.”

  “If you need anything, tell the man at the desk.” T.C. was aware that Colin was eager to break away. “I’ll be here to see you before you leave in the morning. By the way, our hotel cook is quite good. Meals will be served in your room if you wish.”

  “Good-bye, Ramon.” Colin stuck out his hand and Ramon shook it. “I enjoyed our visit. It reminded me of when we were kids, and Grandpa Rain took us on a turkey hunt.”

  “I never told you how I hated the hunting part, but loved being with Senor Rain.”

  Colin’s smile broadened. “You didn’t have to tell me. I knew it and so did Grandpa.”

  Ramon glanced behind him to see his men carrying his trunks up the stairs. With a hand lifted in farewell, and with a great deal of dignity, he followed them.

  On the porch Colin gave T.C. a sheepish grin.

  “I always did kind of like the arrogant little bastard.”

  T.C. chuckled. “Not many folks in town have seen the likes of him. Did you convince him you had not cuckolded him?”

  “Didn’t have to. He knew that I hadn’t. He was on his way here. I wired my pa, and he wired me back that Ramon was in Denver. I waited for him in Laramie. Came right out and told him what Patrice was up to. He said not to worry. I’ll tell you all about it later, but right now I want to see my girl.”

  “Your girl?” T.C. gave his friend a long thoughtful look, then chuckled. “Christ on a horse, Colin. You went away and left that girl without a word. Sunday and everyone else in town thinks you’ve been blanket-rasslin’ with Patrice. Sunday hates your guts!”

  “Then I’m just going to have to change her mind.”

  Patrice hurried back to her room and began to prepare to meet Ramon. What had gone wrong? She had planned so carefully. When Colin disappeared, she was sure he had gone back to his ranch rather than face Ramon and have to kill him. Ramon’s pride would have forced him to seek satisfaction on the one who had shamed him by making his wife pregnant.

  Colin had come riding into town in Ramon’s carriage. The two seemed to be thick as thieves. Had she misjudged Ramon once again? Didn’t he care that she was carrying another man’s child? He didn’t know about it! That must be the answer; Colin hadn’t told him, and there was still hope.

  Patrice slumped on the edge of the bed in relief for only an instant before she jumped up to pull off her dress and slip into a flimsy gown and robe. She brushed her hair and sprinkled herself generously with rosewater, then hurriedly tidied the room. Ramon hated disorder.

  Patrice had arranged herself in the chair, her hair loose and the neckline of her gown pulled to show a goodly amount of her plump breast, when the door was flung open. Ramon stood there and, without even looking into the room, spoke to one of his men in Spanish.

  “Prepare my bath and see that I’m not disturbed while I renew my acquaintance with my wife.” He came in and closed the door.

  Patrice stood. Her face was calm; her large dark eyes held an expression of deep sorrow.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Ramon,” she said in a small timid voice. “I’ve been so frightened.”

  He had given her a casual glance and was now looking around the bleak room.

  “I did not realize your preference for a monk’s lifestyle, my poco puta. I could have arranged for you to have such a room as this at the hacienda.”

  He had called her a whore!

  “Ramon, please. I didn’t want to come here.”

  “No? Another thing I did not know about my wife is that she does things she does not want to do. Yi, yi, yi. How many more surprises are in store for me?”

  Small as he was, his presence filled the room. Patrice sat down. Her husband liked to look down on a woman rather than up or at eye level. He moved toward her, his gaze fixed hard on her face. He was making a thin humming sound in his throat. Patrice hated that sound. It meant that he was very angry.

  Ramon stood for a long moment looking down at the top of her head. Then suddenly he moved his hands so that the palms rested nakedly against her neck. His thumbs came together to form a V in the hollow at the base of her throat where the pulse beat swiftly. For an endless moment she looked up at him while he exerted a steady pressure. His nostrils flared and his red mouth thinned. His eyes speared into her like points of steel.

  Suddenly and viciously, he slapped her and turned away.

  “In most countries of the world a wife can be put to death for adultery.” His voice was quiet, his manner cool. Patrice’s face went ashen when she realized he was in the mood to kill her.

  “You know?” Her question was barely audible.

  “I know that you are about to present me with a son and heir.”

  “And you… let Colin go when you knew that he had… violated me?”

  Ramon’s laugh was humorless.

  “My dear esposa. You haven’t been violated since I took your maidenhead. You love every minute of the time a man spends between your legs.”

  “I don’t understand you. I’m your wife and I’m carrying another man’s child. Have you no pride?”

  “I have plenty of pride, but I am not so foolish as to be led into a trap by a puta.”

  “You’re afraid that Colin will kill you if you face him with the fact he has cuckolded you.”

  “Why would I do that? I like Colin and I think Colin likes me. I did him a favor when I married you. He had not had my experience with women, and he thought you were still an innocent.”

  “I was. You know I was a virgin. You took my maidenhead.”

  “There were many ways to satisfy a man’s passion… and a woman’s, without the breaking of the maidenhead. You were no innocent,” he said emphatically, turning to regard her. The anger that had blazed in his eyes when he slapped her had changed to hard, icy contempt.

  Patrice jumped up. Anger overriding her fear.

  “The child is Colin’s!”

  “How did that come about? Tell me, Patrice. How do you happen to be carrying Colin’s child?”

  “I was with him in his hotel room in Sante Fe four months ago. What will your precious mother and uncles say when your wife gives birth to a blue-eyed, fair-haired child?”

  “It will be a dark-haired, dark-eyed child. No one will doubt that it’s mine.”

  Patrice gasped. “I was with Colin. Only Colin.”

  “This past year you have been with Señor Gabriel Valencia, Señor Domingo Santos, a homesteader by the name of Walt Winston, Señor Juan Trevino, and your latest lover, General Anastasio Pasqual, who impregnated you. And you may be interested to know that he has moved with his family back to Guadalajara to take a position of no consequence.” Ramon listed her recent lovers with carefree indifference.

  Fear made Patrice speechless.

  “I have Señor Pasqual to thank for my heir.” Ramon walked back and forth across the narrow room. His demeanor was cool, his smile mocking. “After he is born, I shall have no further use for you. You can go to Mexico to be with your lover. Although you may not be received graciously by General Anastasio Pasqual, it is his esposa’s papa who holds the purse
strings.”

  “You’ve… had me followed,” Patrice said, when she found her voice.

  “Of course. A man who has a straying wife wants to know with whom he is sharing her.” He paused. A grin twisted his mouth as he insolently looked her over. “The homesteader? Yi, yi, yi. He smelled like a wet goat. Did he take off his boots, little puta ? Or did he lean you up against a tree and pull up your skirt? Is that how you like it, eh?”

  “You don’t have to be insulting! You have your women.” She avoided looking at him.

  “Si, Señora. But what is a man to do when his wife is no longer a pleasure to him?”

  “I chose Colin to be the father of my child,” she said spitefully.

  His face was stony, his eyes contemptuous and cold. He stood studying her for a moment before he spoke.

  “You have seen Colin Tallman alone one time in the last two years. You went to his room at the hotel in Sante Fe. You were there for less than five minutes when he threw you out. I doubt that even the most potent man could impregnate you in five minutes. It would take that long to get your corset off.”

  “You’re a bast—”

  “Careful what you call me, Señora. I am a practical man. I’ve not fathered a child, but I’m expected to produce an heir. You’ve taken care of that for me very nicely. Why do you think I did not kill you when I learned of your first dalliance with another man less than a year after you exchanged vows with me?”

  Now that his cards were on the table, Patrice began to feel a sense of power. She had something he wanted. The fog of fear lifted from her mind and she began to think. If he wanted the little bastard she carried in her belly, he would pay dearly to get it

  “All right, Señor Guzman Cabeza, little big man of Rancho Cabezas.” She put emphasis on the insult. “If you want this heir there are going to be some changes. I’m—”

  She never had a chance to finish what she was saying. Ramon exploded in a hot, jagged slash of fury. He swung his arm and hit her with his open palm so hard that she was flung back onto the bed.

  “I will have respect from you, puta. You will obey me.” His snarl was ground through with impotent rage. “Get on the bed and spread your legs. You’ve been playing the whore for other men, now you’ll play the whore for me.”