by Sharon Ryan
“Why of course I met Horace Greeley,” he told the gaggle of young women. “He was something of a mentor to me when I was a boy. A very wealthy man, I assure you—in money and in spirit.”
Sneed was soaking up the attention as he told an animated story about one of his New York medical procedures. “Once,” said Sneed, “I revived a dead man. I touched his chest, his dead heart—and like Lazarus, he awakened from the dead. My hands work magic, ladies.” Sneed was sure to offer the great compensation for that particular house call.
Several of the women blushed as Sneed spoke to them, and they looked at each other as potential enemies in vying for Sneed’s attention, his magic touch.
Shamus also noticed that Mr. Wilson’s daughters were in the circle. Sneed leaned over and brushed the cheek of the younger Wilson sister. She swooned as the other girls looked on jealously.
Shamus looked behind him to find Mr. Wilson involved in a serious conversation with the town banker. Wilson’s back was to the group. Shamus walked over to the pie table, left his dessert uneaten, and stepped outside.
Chapter 6
Willa woke before dawn. Her now-perpetual nervousness forced her to skip meals, and as she stood before the mirror, naked, she noticed how stress transformed her body. As she gazed at herself, she saw how emaciated she was becoming. She was beginning to look like a skeleton with scant flesh. She hastily dressed in a pair of Clay’s trousers and a blouse, both of which hung loosely around her body.
She grabbed an axe and set off to find wood, knowing how brutal the coming winter months would be. This was her life now: a constant struggle to survive against the elements and to survive against the inane townspeople. All around Willa existed danger, and this thought made her blood burn. It made her feel irritable. She needed to move her body, as if she could burn the nervousness away.
The dawn sky contained purple hues, much as it did that somber morning when she and Clay set off to Colorado. What would Clay, with his solid isolationism and pride, have thought of Dr. Sneed’s intrusions into their lives, the doctor’s snide remarks and ridiculous implications? Willa imagined Clay tackling Sneed to the ground and punching him until his face, like the sky, emitted a deep purple discoloration. Willa, too, could imagine Shamus striking Sneed, making Sneed cower just as Shamus once made the stallion cower. Willa wanted to see Sneed in pain, and if given the chance, she wanted to be the agent of his agony. She imagined hearing the doctor’s voice, his criticisms: “Now, Willa, good women don’t go about cutting down trees; why not have one of the good men from town do that for you?” This thought of Sneed’s words and haughty smile filled Willa with even more rage.
She hastily approached a dead, dry cottonwood. “This will make excellent kindling,” Willa thought. She struck it—once, twice, three times—and with each strike at the tree, Willa imagined one of the townsmen: Sneed and Sorensen primarily. She wanted to imagine Shamus, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that, so she continued striking at the tree—all while screaming, like a demon, trapped.
For the past week, Shamus saw—at least eight times—a large female jackrabbit. The rabbit would look at Shamus, as if she begged him to catch her. He’d approach her as slowly as he could. The rabbit, which Shamus named Bertha, sat and stared at him. Once, at night, he got within a foot of the small animal, let her smell his slender fingers. She liked the smell, its saltiness; he could tell.
This morning, Bertha looked frightened; there existed some primal dread in her eyes, a blackness, a fear, maybe a desire. Immediately, the rabbit ran away. And Shamus, shocked, did not move. Bertha raised her head and again looked at Shamus, as if transfixed.
“Tease,” thought Shamus.
When Bertha was completely out of sight, Shamus heard wild, angry cries. “Willa,” he said. “The whole town will hear you.” Not thinking, he rushed to the harsh sounds of the crazed woman.
“Damn it, Willa, you want to give them more reason to talk, don’t you?”
Another grunt. Another hack. Shamus ran faster, so fast that he felt as if his insides would explode.
Out of breath, Shamus finally found Willa; she looked almost feral as she loomed above chopped branches with her axe. In the morning mist, she seemed like one possessed. With an open palm, Shamus approached Willa from behind and gave her a hard swat to the ass. Willa, stunned, gasped and the whimpered. Her wild pants then ceased.
“Shamus,” she said. “How’d you find me?”
“Your cries, I followed them.” Shamus replied. “What’s this all about? No doubt another one of your attempts at looking insane.”
“Maybe I really am crazy.”
“Enough of this stupid talk. That’s all this is, anyway, talk, talk. Mindless gossip. You’ve been through hell and back, Willa. What’s that quack doing to you anyway, huh? What’s he put into your head?”
“He’s doing what the people in this town want done to me.”
“And what’s that?”
“To fix me.”
“Fix you? Fix you? What in God’s name is broken to begin with?”
“I’m on edge, Shamus. I’m on edge all the time. Hostile. Arrogant. Not a good woman.”
“You are plenty woman enough to me, a mighty good woman, in fact. Just behave.”
At that, Willa went silent. She looked into Shamus’ deep blue eyes, and she thought—only fleetingly—that she could stroke, softly and slowly, Shamus’ copper-colored scruff. She imagined that it would tickle her rough hand. She thought that touching him would make her laugh.
“Sneed doesn’t think that,” said Willa. “None of these people think I’m good enough as I am.”
“I don’t care what those idiots think,” Shamus retorted, his voice growing softer.
“I don’t… I can’t see that awful man again. I don’t think I can do it.”
“Tough it out, lass. You’ve been through trials worse than Sneed.”
“He’s coming today, around lunchtime. I feel obligated to cook for that monstrous… thing. I can’t tolerate the thought of his questions or the looks he gives me, and I can’t stand the idea of his touch.” Her hazel eyes widened, and Shamus noted their desperate plea. “Help me; please help me,” her eyes seemed to beg.
“He touched you?”
“Yes—my lower back.”
“That bastard had the nerve to touch—”
“He let his hand linger, too. I want to hide, Shamus, to become invisible.”
“It would be a mighty shame for you to turn invisible, Willa, because I like looking at you.”
In the scarce morning light, Shamus thought he saw Willa blush. He came near her and kissed her cheek gently. The bristles of his scruff tickled her cheek, and Willa felt a warmness, something akin to hot caramel, trickle from her cheeks to her chest. Next, that heat traveled to her stomach, and then it reached the space down between her legs.
“Oh,” she moaned, at last. “Oh, my.”
“Go home, lass, get some sleep, and then talk to that doctor. I’ll be watching from outside,” Shamus said as he placed his hands around Willa’s small waist. “And waiting. I’ll see that no harm comes to you. Don’t be afraid.”
Willa noticed the hope in Shamus’ words, and she smiled heartily.
Willa prepared a meager lunch of roasted rabbit and field greens for Dr. Sneed. “Wasted effort,” she said to herself. She resented that this was all for Sneed; she would not be eating; she could not eat. As she plated Sneed’s food, she heard the inevitable footsteps. Briefly, she thought about ignoring these insistent noises, of running outside and living alone among nature.
“That’s a lovely green dress,” said Sneed, eyeing Willa as he opened the door.
“Doctor,” she replied, “always the first to notice a lady’s dress.”
“You’ve cooked, and inside, too—much as a lady should. That smells most interesting.”
“Come. Eat.” She led Sneed to the table.
As Sneed took a small bite of the rabbit, Willa felt
her heart beat faster, and as she looked out of one of her small windows, she saw Shamus’ shadow move slowly outside. That quickly fading shadow, almost imperceptible, filled Willa with ease. When Willa again focused her eyes on Sneed, she saw him swallow a bite of food with distaste; his face went sour. “This is just a little overcooked, Willa. I’m sure the townswomen can teach you how to properly cook a rabbit; it’s an art that was lost on you, an art that can be learned, I assure you.”
“The townspeople,” she insisted, “can teach me nothing I find useful.”
“Nonsense, why not try your hand at baking? I attended a pie social at the church the other day. Come the next time; you could use a little God and baking in your life.”
“God is in my life, sir.”
“Is He now?” Sneed took out his pad and jotted down his immediate impressions. “Church socials are wonderful places to meet men. I understand that even the trapper got some attention there, though I heard he didn’t stay long.”
“Mr. Harding?” Suddenly it seemed as if ice flowed through Willa’s veins.
“Yes, Mr. Harding, I believe.” Sneed smirked. “Why, he’s pretty much destined to marry Mr. Wilson’s oldest girl, Lucy. They’re crazy about each other, from what I hear.”
“That seems,” uttered Willa, “unsound.”
“No, it’s very natural that women fancy men. The trapper is an attractive fellow, the women say. With some work, my little lamb, we might even be able to find a man for you. Believe it or not, Mr. Sorensen still has hope for you, if I can tame you. My, what a pretty couple you and Mr. Sorensen would make!”
Under the cover of a cottonwood, Shamus saw Sneed take his leave from the sod house and go to his horse. Sneed slammed the door behind him, and Shamus noted the violence with which Sneed moved. Shamus came closer; his pace quickened until the physician was within feet of Shamus. Shamus had never noticed how short Dr. Sneed was until he stood directly behind him—a little man just under five feet tall.
“Simon,” Shamus growled.
The short man, puzzled and alarmed, turned around and squinted his small rat-like eyes.
“Do I know you?” Sneed said as he adjusted his bowler hat.
“Well, not formally. I’ve heard all about you, doctor. I even saw you at the church social the other day. Those girls seemed impressed, and they made some good pies. You said Horace Greeley knew you himself. You must be an extraordinary man.”
“Indeed, I am,” said Sneed, suddenly beaming. He paused. “Who are you, though, sir?”
“I’m Shamus Harding.”
“Oh, yes, you’re the trapper. I’ve never actually seen your face. Mr. Wilson likes you, if you didn’t already gather that. I am Dr. Sneed.”
Sneed extended his right hand. Shamus grabbed it, astonished at the softness of Sneed’s skin. At that, Shamus pulled Sneed toward him with a degree of violence and authority. Sneed gasped and tried to pull away, but Shamus held on as tight, and as aggressively, as he could.
“Nice to finally meet you, Simon,” Shamus said as he released the doctor. With his left hand, Sneed immediately rubbed his tender and red right hand. “You don’t have that much of a grip, do you?”
“I suppose we New Yorkers never learned to be so rough,” Sneed replied, quizzically.
“Well, you’ll learn out here. People like you learn quickly.”
“What, might I ask, brings you here, Mr. Harding?”
“Well, doctor, I had a medical question for you—and you seem to be the expert.”
“Oh, expertise is relative, but I sense I shall have an answer for you.”
“Yes, but I’ve seen that you have the… most interesting patients.”
The doctor tilted his head, and said, “I have many people who rely on my knowledge, yes.”
“True,” Shamus muttered, “but it is mighty kind of you to visit the fine ladies at the brothel.”
At Shamus’ remark, Sneed’s skin took on a translucent color. “Whatever do you mean, man?”
“You know precisely what I mean. I saw you leave that rancid whorehouse. I have a witness, too. They needed your expertise, too, I imagine? Your skills?”
Sneed scoffed, amazed. “What God-loving man doesn’t go to see those whores from time to time. All the men here do.”
“I don’t, sir. That sort of thing is beneath me.”
Sneed rolled his eyes at Shamus’ remark. “The exception to the rule,” Sneed said. “There’s always an exception. Or a liar. You ought to come with me some time, Mr. Harding, and I’ll personally see to it that you have a fantastic time. I’ll introduce you to my favorite girl. She is, how do I say this, very good at what she does.”
“I tell no lies and your offer, like you, disgusts me. What would those nice church ladies think of their precious Dr. Sneed rolling around with nameless women of the night?”
“I’m a physician of good moral standing, and you? You’re just some filthy trapper. I’ll say you’re a drunk. You like whiskey, no? Whom will these people believe? Not you.”
“I’m warning you, Sneed. Leave town and leave Miss Freeman alone.”
Sneed suddenly came within centimeters of Shamus’ face, his gaze tight, amused. “You don’t warn me, fool; it is I who warns you. Stay out of my affairs, or I’ll have my kind, God-fearing, whore-loving brethren throw you out of this settlement. They, too, have reputations to tend to—and wives, most of them. Expose me and you expose them.” Sneed giggled to himself. “Moreover, Miss Willa Freeman does not concern you anymore.”
“Not very amicable of you, little man,” Shamus said, holding back the temptation to topple Simon Sneed.
The physician mounted up on his horse and trotted back into town, the pace quick.
Chapter 7
A chilling promise of winter approaching clung to the morning air as Shamus took the cup of hot coffee Joe offered.
“I’m not worried about it,” Shamus said as both men moved over toward the blacksmith’s fire. When Joe stoked it and set to work later on, the fire would blaze. For now, the flames cheerfully played around the dry wood. A friendly, brown, mongrel dog lay on top of an old blanket enjoying the heat as her weanling pups snuggled up to her.
“Well, you need to be careful. That doctor is as slippery as a live fish, and now that you have a hook in him, the man is going to fight to get away. You may end up holding an empty net, Shamus, or worse, a bag of false accusations.”
Shamus looked over at the puppies and smiled.
“I know,” Joe said. “You take one of these pups out to Miss Freeman. She’d have some company and some protection. Don’t tell her it’s from me. You take all the credit but be sure to let her know there are folks who are concerned for her—folks who know she doesn’t need any fixin’.”
Shamus reached down to pick up a dark brown female with floppy ears and a white spot over her nose. She had one white forepaw and the tip of her long tail was also white. The little thing gave a wag, and it looked like a waving flag.
“Don’t worry, Shamus,” Joe said. “I’ve been around long enough to watch several folks like Sneed hang themselves. They get careless, cocky, drunk on the power they believe they have.”
“I’m sure there’s more to Simon Sneed than he is letting on,” Shamus muttered.
“Like I said, folks like Sneed mess up. We just have to wait for the chance to help him fall fast and hard,” Joe said assuredly. “Now you take that little gal you’ve been eyeing and give Miss Freeman my best, anonymously, of course.”
Willa walked through the browning summer prairie grass. She could see yellow leaves high in the cottonwoods signaling that winter, indeed, was just a few weeks out. She was still building up her firewood supply and pondered how Shamus had found her the last time she was out here. She was half crazed then, but things were looking better today. Willa afforded herself the pleasure of standing with her feet planted firmly on the earth. She felt stronger but realized that she had some help in lifting her hopes and her spirit.
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As Willa stood in the thicket, she removed her bonnet and hairpins to let the cool breeze play through her hair as she imagined that the wind’s light touch belonged to Shamus Harding. She recalled a picture of his honest face, his kind, yet stern, eyes, his fiery scruff and his broad shoulders. She also imagined his strong arms, how they embraced her, and she felt safe—so incredibly safe. Willa also recalled how those arms felt like steel bands when he held her down for his idea of redirecting her reckless behavior
Willa flushed. She felt the heat creep into her cheeks and noticed a tingling in her breasts as her nipples hardened. A slow burn spread throughout her hips as she felt a flame begin to kindle between her legs.
“Oh, my,” she murmured as she clumsily stepped over to a fallen tree and sat down with the unexpected feelings. Her heart was racing as she considered whether it was possible that she was falling for Mr. Harding.
“No!” she said as she shook her head. “No! No! No!” But the heat had settled into her core and didn’t listen to her demand for it to subside. She replayed the many indignities she had suffered under his hand. Memories of the firm and stinging swats upon her naked buttocks only served to make her pant with a new sense of wanting.
Willa fanned her face with her bonnet. She was attracted to him. Willa knew it, and she wanted her new realization to lead her to happiness and better times. At that moment, her heart skipped with joy, but then a nagging doubt began to whisper to her. She remembered how Clay had cautioned her about men and male intentions. Willa realized she could so easily lose all that she’d worked for if she let her guard down for even a second. Her giddiness evaporated. Dr. Sneed had mentioned Andy Sorensen’s interest in marriage were Willa to be properly tamed. She began to seethe. Willa Freeman was not property or available to anyone. She would cooperate only as far as she needed to get Sneed to go away.