by Kieran York
“An imprinted logo?“ Royce inquired.
“Yep. I get real close and feel where the paint has ridges. I’m workin’ on finding out what it says.”
“It might provide the clue we need.”
“Say, you been gettin’ any contributions lately?“ He asked.
“Trickling in,” Royce answered.
“I’ll let you know if I come up with anything on the truck paint.” Laramie tipped his hat, and his bowed legs carried him out of the bar.
“Laramie may be lubricated,” Faye divulged, “but he’s workin’ away on finding out about this Brown creep.”
“I’m grateful to him. To all of you for keeping me informed.” Royce glanced up at the doorway and saw Gwen entering. “Gwen, you in the wrong establishment?“ Royce joked.
“This is open to the public,” Gwen muttered as she sat. “A draw,” she ordered. “Unless,” she jabbed, “Faye is only serving cowboys.”
Faye drew a frosty mug of beer and placed it in front of Gwen. “Anything else?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Gwen added. “A buffalo burger and an order of your hand-cut cottage fries.”
Faye called the order back to the her short-order cook. Then she grinned at Gwen. “I thought you’d never eat over here. I believe it was in the Times I read that this is a roach shop. You called my buffalo burger special a toxin plate. How about your statement that this was a botulism bar?“ Faye’s sarcasm barbed.
“That was a decade ago,” Royce interceded.
“That’s correct,” Gwen stipulated. “And you’ve pulled your act together.”
“Thanks,” Faye responded blithely. “Your editorials don’t stink as badly as they used to either.” Faye refilled Gwen’s glass. “No dinner on the table?”
“I got back from Crystal late,” Gwen confessed. “And I decided to throw caution to the wind and try your special. I did take out some extra life insurance.”
Faye gave a rolling laugh. “Royce, the biting ole ferret from across the street is really pissin’ and moanin'. Nadine must have cut her off.”
Gwen’s face flushed and she grumbled, “Don’t start any of your malarkey with me.”
“So why are you having a little moan? Did your cousin Elizabeth give you a bunch of shit yesterday?”
“She wouldn’t dare,” Gwen defended.
Faye laughed. “Who could blame her for taking cover when you’re around?“ Faye drew half a glass of beer and came around to the other side of the bar and sat. “One thing I can say, this election has put us in the same camp. That hasn’t happened since Hector was a pup.”
“Every rational person is against the Coalition and Elizabeth.”
“Well, she’s a shrew, and the judge is an old crock. Hell,” Faye disclosed, “he could teach Laramie how to drink.”
“All I know,” Royce admitted, “is that winning the election seems like an uphill battle.”
“Maybe,” Faye offered, “you need you one of those fancy spin doctors.”
Gwen’s eyebrows bobbed and she grinned. “Or maybe Royce just needs a spin veterinarian.”
Royce shook her head and chuckled. Standing, she murmured, “Reminds me, I better take off. See if you two can get along so I don’t get called back here on a disturbance.”
Royce had passed through the swinging doors and onto the street, and she still heard the two women laughing. “Spin veterinarian!“ Royce mumbled.
***
The hissing kerosene lamp reminded Royce that Colorado high country autumns were brisk. She was glad she had started the log splitting at Gran’s. Wind lashed at the window, confirming her fears of an early cold snap. But Hertha’s bedroom was warm. Clover scents mingled with the steam from two freshly brewed mugs of spiced tea. Dolphin-gray shadows made silhouettes parting night and day.
“Everything okay?“ Royce questioned as Hertha entered and sat on the edge of the bed. She handed her lover a mug and took a sip from her own.
“All quiet on the western front. All patients are doing reasonably well. Now if I can convince the retriever not to fight with porcupines again, and the Siamese not to fight with retrievers, I’ll be satisfied. And if we can get the little spaniel mix pulled out from his bout with pancreatic troubles.”
“I’m glad they didn’t wait any longer bringing the little guy in.”
“They’re having money problems. I told them not to worry. Royce, I’m not going to let an animal suffer because of money. I know they love that little fellow, but with five children. Well, there’s no problem. I’m sure they’ll bring the dog in sooner from now on.”
“I love you for so many reasons.” Royce took Hertha’s hand and kissed her fingers. “Healing sick animals is only one of them.”
Hertha’s sleek hair draped around her face, and she leaned to kiss Royce’s parting lips. Her skin against Royce’s reminded the sheriff of the smoothness inside of a shell. Royce felt her warmth as Hertha slipped inside Royce’s embrace.
“I want to love you,” Royce whispered. “Tonight. All nights. I’m going to tell Mom in the morning that I’m moving in with you.”
“Royce, the election isn’t that far away. Let’s wait until then.”
“No. I need to be with you. Now more than ever. For both of us. And maybe if Rick Brown sees that I’m living here permanently he’ll get the message.”
“We both know better than that.” Hertha’s fingertips caressed Royce’s cheek. “I can’t allow you to risk your future because we fear something that may never happen.”
“Your safety is more important to me than anything else.”
“I don’t want this to cause you unhappiness. It could ruin everything you’ve worked for.” Hertha’s eyes closed. “Royce, it’s very courageous of you, but I don’t want to feel responsible for your losing the election. Please, no.”
Royce lifted the goose down comforter from her nude body and murmured, “It’s getting warm in here.” She reached for Hertha’s gown and slowly slid the gown’s sleeve away. Kissing her lover’s shoulder, Royce’s lips eased up Hertha’s neck. She gently bit Hertha’s ear and then whispered, “May I share love with you?”
“If you promise that you’ll consider your future very carefully and not make any snap decisions.”
Royce laughed. “You’ve got me in a compromising mood.”
“I’d have guessed it to be another kind of mood,” Hertha teased. “But do I have your word?”
“You have my word that I’ll overwhelm your body with adoration and your mind and soul with love. Are those words poetic enough?”
“Those weren’t the words I was looking for.” Hertha’s softness blended against Royce. Her arms wound around Royce’s neck and her fingers gently ruffled Royce’s hair. “Promise?”
“I promise that I’m going to move in this week. Unless my invitation was lost in the mail.”
“You don’t need an invite to move into our home.”
“Then it’s settled. Now, I’ve considered it, and that’s my decision. Can we make love, or were you bargaining with the night of unending pleasure?”
Hertha chuckled. “Looks like your power of persuasion is still strong.” Her tongue dipped against Royce’s lips, sending shivers through them both.
“Mmm, yes,” Royce murmured as their bodies pressed together and they began their moonlit tour of passion.
Chapter 14
Golden spikes of sunlight filtered through morning’s filmy clouds. It brightened another lovely autumn day.
Royce had driven out to the cabin early and told Gran that she planned to move in with Hertha. It seemed to be news that Gran had expected. And accepted. The trip back into Timber City was quiet. Royce was filled with resolve to tell Molly. She would not be derailed from coming out.
Royce entered the bakeshop kitchen where Molly clapped her hands free of flour. “Roycie, you look pallid as a ghost.”
“A little beleaguered,” Royce confirmed. She was sure that her mother saw the desolat
ion on her face. Royce always internalized her pain, but her eyes reflected her emotions.
“I do believe it’s going to be another gorgeous day. Can’t recall when an autumn’s been more lovely.”
“Mom, I was just out to see Gran. I told her that I’m moving in with Hertha.”
Molly washed her hands and twisted the towel until they were dried. Then she went to a long table with several cakes. She squeezed crystalline confectioner’s frosting through the piping to write messages on the flat faces of cakes. The words had been memorized when Molly wrote out the work order. The script was automatic and precise.
Royce had followed her mother. She took a seat on the stool across from Molly. “Mom, did you hear what I said?”
“Said you were moving in with Hertha. Well, it’s closer to your work.”
“It’s more than that.”
“Yes?”
“I’ve fallen in love with her.”
“I guess I knew in my heart, but my mind hadn’t wrapped around the idea of it being so.” Molly blinked. Her eyes smarted from tears, but none fell. “I don’t want life to hurt you.”
Royce began to reach for her mother’s hand, but then stopped. She didn’t want to interrupt Molly’s script. “Are you disappointed in me?“ Royce questioned.
“No. It’s just that ...” Molly broke and looked away. She carefully put down the pastry bag. “Royce, I want what all parents want for their children. Is there anything I could have done along the way to have made it different?”
“No.”
“Maybe I was too accepting of Gwen and Nadine. Of their way of living. Their lifestyle.”
“No. It wouldn’t have made any difference. What you did was make it easier for me to accept myself. And seeing their love gave me the courage to be me. Knowing that being lesbian is an option, well, it prevented me from making the mistake of trying to force myself into a life that I found alien.”
“I tried not to make a fuss over it. Maybe I should have talked with you earlier.”
“Mom, nothing anyone could have said or done would have made me different. It isn’t something that’s contagious or learned. I’m grateful that your love and acceptance of Gwen and Nadine showed me that my lifestyle isn’t always scorned. And their courage to be out showed me that one’s sexuality doesn’t need to be hidden away.”
“People still don’t accept it.”
“But what’s important to me is that the people I love can accept me.”
“I accept you. I love you, Royce. And you know how I’ve taken to Hertha. I was saying the other day that she’s come to be like one of my own. I want your happiness. But I know that there are people out there who are going to be thinking less of you. They won’t understand.”
“No. And that’s the other thing. You know that prejudice will be surfacing during the campaign. There have already been allegations under wraps. The veil will be lifted soon, and the Coalition will make charges.”
“Then why are you moving in with Hertha? Can’t you keep it how it was? At least until after the election?”
“No. No, I can’t. I don’t need to answer their charges. But I refuse to hide from them.”
***
Royce’s plod back to the Times’ pressroom was slow. Her face was sullen. Glinting printer’s type blinked. Beneath the funnel lamp, Gwen was clicking letters together in a row for the week’s headlines. She stopped working and placed the handset type beside a stack of woodblocks. “Well,” she mumbled as if to herself, “you look as though you’ve had rather heavy weather of it.”
“I just told Mom that I’m in love with Hertha. And that I’m moving in with her today.”
“So you two are putting mutual brands on one another’s fanny?”
“Yes. I made the decision.”
“What did Molly say?”
“Hearing the words hurt her. I could tell. And she thought I should wait until after the election before making the move.” Royce’s blue eyes cast away from the light. Her lower lip bobbed for words that were pressing through her heart to be released. “I need to be with Hertha. I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to her. I never knew I could love anyone like this.”
“Maybe Molly thought it would be less stressful on you to wait. You’re dealing with a murder case. Along with the election and those threatening phone calls to Godiva.”
“Yes, we had another call. Nadine mentioned that she’s going up to Crystal later this week to interview Godiva. I figured we could go together. I want to check and see how things are going.”
“I have no intention of wasting my time with Godiva’s antics. We have been getting requests for an in-depth interview. Godiva’s press secretary set it up. On the film site, which will be a great photo opportunity. Our readers don’t really give a flip about Godiva, but the movie being shot in Crystal does interest them.”
“Well, we’ve beefed up security since day one. Not that we could prevent a real problem with such a small force, but we’re doing our best.”
“Funny that. Just as the Godiva’s press begins to wane, another call comes in. Convenient, huh?”
“I’ve thought of that. It is convenient, but not for us. I could use the extra protection for Hertha.”
“Moving in will help some.” Gwen tipped her eyeglasses up onto the front of her head. She rubbed her eyes and added, “But it isn’t going to help your campaign. It goes against the grain of social acceptability. Spending a few quiet nights isolated with a lover is one thing. Making a change of address is another.” Gwen sighed a deep and troubled sigh. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes.”
“There’s going to be a backlash.”
“You once told me that truth requires courage.”
“Hell’s bells,” Gwen chuckled, “you listen to what I tell you?”
“As Gran would say, my ears are pinned back.” Royce’s lips curved slightly. “So, I’ve come out to my mother and I’m moving in with my lover. My timing may be bad, but it’s about as courageous as I can get.”
“So you tell the world the truth. With courage. And then what? Protecting that truth is an unending task.” Gwen replaced her glasses and shook her head. “You took the first step.”
“I’ll deal with whatever needs to be dealt with.”
“Some people will boycott the clinic. They’ll take their animals to another community. And some people will cast their vote against you.”
“But not all.”
“No. I have hopes that it will one day turn around. When Nadine moved to Timber City and it became evident that we were lovers, we had bricks and stones thrown through the newspaper’s front window. We had eggs thrown at the house. Advertising was canceled. People on the street looked at us as though we were lepers. Some looked as though they despised us. Others looked as though they might toss their cookies. They got used to the idea, but it’s taken years. A good confrontation suits me down to the ground, but Nadine has always taken pride in being respectable. A few treated her with anything but respect. There are still people in this town I won’t speak to. They hurt her, and that was unforgivable. They’ll hurt Hertha. And some won’t vote for you because you’re lesbian.”
“You’re saying that there’s no chance for me to be elected?”
“I’ve given up on taking a poll. I know the members of the Family Morals Coalition will oppose you. The hidden bigots won’t tell me that they would sooner vote for a boisterous old toad like Dillon Granger for no other reason but that he puts his pants on with the zipper in the front.” Her words were laced with cynicism. “The macho bigots would rather stick pins in their eyes than vote for a woman. Much less a woman sharing her bed with a woman they wish they had.”
Royce smiled. “You do have a way with words.”
“Looks like I’ll need it. Judge McDermott is just striding in now. Wonder what he wants.” Gwen stretched her body to hear. When his voice rose, she realized he was having words with Nadine. “He’s fit to be tied abou
t something,” she muttered as they walked to the front office.
“Wouldn’t you know it,” he sputtered when he saw Royce and Gwen enter. “All the suffragettes in town gathering here. Well, that’s fine because I wanted to talk with the sheriff too.”
“Someone trod on your corns today?“ Gwen asked, bemused at his outrage. “What have you been eating lately to make you so disagreeable?”
Nadine stood and began to intercede. Gwen waved her back. “Take the judge’s hat, Nadine. Isn’t often we’re honored with such a dignified guest. Of course they say Judge McDermott was so crooked in Denver that he could stand behind a spiral staircase and not be seen.”
“I’m in no mood for your humor,” he spat.
“So what brings you to the Times}"
“We’re getting tired of your biased articles about Sheriff Madison’s past heroics.” He waved the newspaper in her face. “Yet another mention that she solved the biggest murder case in the history of Timber County. Well, that’s just not good enough. It’s past tense. You keep bringing it up like clockwork. Let’s look at now. Acting Sheriff Madison has got a murder case in front of her, and she’s doing nothing about it. Sitting on the fence. She’s got a smoking gun and she’s sitting on her hands.”
“You want her to arrest Jorie? Your wife’s cousin?”
“We know Marjorie Lovett committed the crime,” he blustered. “Now I’m not saying she’s a murderer at heart. It was probably an accident. Certainly it wasn’t premeditated. Perhaps in a fit of anger. But she needs to be charged. I’m getting pressure from above about this being a lawless community. I know if Marjorie confesses and tells the court it was an accident, the court will be lenient. Maybe she can claim self-defense. The Holt woman was drunk and enraged. We can cut deals if she’ll just do the right thing and confess.”
“Confess to a crime she didn’t commit?“ Royce grilled. “Why would she do that? And why would you suggest it?”