The Listening Sky Page 12

  Jane had to smile. “Doc’s got you buffaloed. He only browbeats those who let him.”

  “T.C. said yo’re makin’ out a list for me to get at the mercantile. He said we’d have meals here now that thar’s somebody beside me to cook ‘em.”

  “I haven’t started the list.” Jane poured the water off the potatoes, added milk and set the pan on the back of the stove. “I’m making potato soup for Doc when he wakes up. You make out the list, Polly. Herb can show you what’s here and what’s not. I’m goin’ up to look in on the doctor.”

  Jane made her departure before they saw the tears of frustration in her eyes. T.C. Kilkenny was weaving her into a web. He was doing his best to make it impossible for her to leave. First he had her caring for the doctor, and now taking over in the surgery. And somehow he sought to lay a blanket of guilt on her if she deserted Polly.

  Doc was awake, his eyes on the doorway. “I was getting all set to yell.”

  “Why in the world would you do that?”

  “You said you’d be here.”

  “I can’t stay here every single minute.” Her voice came out on a lower note. “Don’t give me any sass, Dr. Foote. I just sewed up a deep cut in a man’s leg, and my stomach is not in very stable condition.”

  “Call me Nathan. I like hearing you say it. Sewed up a cut, did you? Find what you needed? Tell me what you did.”

  Jane sat on the chair beside the bed and told him, step by step, what she had done from the first time she washed her hands to the last.

  “Needle sharp enough?”

  Jane nodded.

  “I give them a few strokes on the whetstone after I use them.”

  “He wanted only some salve and a bandage, but I was afraid he’d get lockjaw or putrid flesh and his leg might have to come off.”

  “You did the right thing.” Doc turned from her and looked out the window. “I’ve filled a wagon with arms and legs. Fifteen minutes was all the time I could give each of the poor bastards. Many’s the time I wished I’d been a lawyer, a merchant, or even a politician.”

  Jane reached for his hand and held it in hers.

  “Think of how many men would have died if you’d become a lawyer, a merchant or a politician. Count the wins, Nathan, not the losses.”

  “Where did you learn these words of wisdom you’re always spouting, girl?” His bony fingers squeezed hers. “Tell me about your folks.”

  Jane felt suddenly weak. She looked at the man on the bed. He had honest eyes, light brown and surrounded by tiny wrinkles. They looked frankly into hers. Instinct told her that he was not prying, he was genuinely interested.

  “My mother died when I was very young. She was beautiful and talented. She played the piano and the organ. My life was never the same after that. All I had was Aunt Alice, and she was not a relative but a dear friend of my mother’s.”

  “Your papa?”

  “I only saw him one time. He came to the house after Mamma died. It was nighttime. He wrapped me in a blanket and carried me out of Aunt Alice’s house to a carriage and took me to an orphanage. I stayed there until a few months ago working for my bed and board. So you see there is nothing mysterious or unusual about me.”

  “I think there is. You’re smart and perceptive. Why did you come here?”

  “I didn’t want to work at that orphanage for the rest of my life taking care of someone else’s children. I wanted to see and feel and experience life outside that place. I read the notice about the jobs for women here in Timbertown. I was too naive to realize Mr. Kilkenny had other plans for the single women.” She said the last bitterly with a toss of her hair.

  The doctor chuckled, then coughed. Jane hurriedly lifted the can beside the bed for him to spit in. Afterward he lay back exhausted.

  “T.C.’s got a job to do. He meant no harm. I’m sure that most of the women knew what they were getting into.”

  “I certainly didn’t. Do you think you could eat a spoonful or two of potato soup? You slept through the noon meal.”

  “Ah, girl.” The doctor made a face. “I ate that mush you were poking down me. Isn’t that enough for one day?”

  Jane tilted her head and wrinkled her brow as if she were studying the matter.

  “If I were lying there and you were sitting here, how would you answer that question?”

  There was a twinkle in the eyes that turned to her.

  “You’re a pistol, Jane. I’d say, ‘Hush your damn complaining and eat the soup.’”

  “Well?”

  “Get the damn soup,” he said with resignation.

  Jane heard Herb and Polly in the hall seconds before they appeared in the doorway.

  “Are ya awake, Doc?”

  “I got my eyes open, haven’t I?”

  “I want ya to meet someone. This is Miss Polly Wright. She’s goin’ to be stayin’ here with Miss Jane. They’ll be sleepin’ in my room just across—”

  “—Wait a minute,” Jane interrupted quickly. “I’ve not heard anything about this. What do you mean we’ll sleep in your room?”

  “Good idea,” Doc said, ignoring Jane’s protest. “How do you do, Miss Wright?” He was watching Herb, who had eyes only for the young girl and the sudden frightened expression that crossed her face when Jane spoke.

  “Jane?” Polly asked hesitantly. “Mr. Kilkenny was kind enough to say I could help you here.”

  “Mr. Kilkenny takes much for granted where I’m concerned, Polly.”

  “Ya mean ya don’t want me?”

  “Lord o’mercy, Polly. You know I didn’t mean that at all.”

  “Don’t ya like workin’ here? Has Mr. Kilkenny been mean to ya?”

  “No. He hasn’t been exactly mean. He just arranges things to suit himself without regard to what others want to do. We can talk about this later.” She tried to shoo Polly toward the door. “The doctor doesn’t want to hear about…our… my differences with Mr. Kilkenny.”

  “Yes, he does.” Doc’s voice coming from the bed was strong. “The doctor wants to hear about everything going on here. Just because I’m flat on my back doesn’t mean my brain isn’t working. And I want my soup, Jane. Herb and Miss Wright will keep me company while you get it.”

  Jane turned on him. “You’ve gotten all-fired bossy of a sudden.”

  “It’s not sudden. I’ve always been bossy. Ask Herb.”

  Jane gave them all a fulminating look and left the room. She paused on the stairway before she reached the bottom and leaned against the wall. Her hand sought the notes in her pocket. They were real. She brought out the latest one and reread it. leave here yu be sorry. Was it only this morning that she had found this last warning?

  “Polly, did you find Jane?”

  Sunday called and came over to speak to Polly and Herb as they passed on their way to the mercantile.

  She was not the only one who noticed the couple. Milo Callahan stopped work to watch them make their way to the porch of the store, and his dark eyes seethed with anger.

  “She’s over at Mr. Kilkenny’s. We’re goin’ to stay there. Jane’s takin’ care of the doctor and I’m goin’ to help her.”

  “You two sure took the prize.” Sunday laughed and winked at Herb. “That’ll make the biddies back there at the henhouse crazy.”

  “Oh, Sunday!”

  “Go along, I’m just teasin’ ya—” She turned to watch a rider who was approaching on a big gray speckled horse. It was the ugliest-colored horse she’d ever seen, but magnificently built.

  Herb called out to him. “T.C. was lookin’ for ya a while ago.”

  The rider reined in, tipped his hat to the ladies and swung from the saddle.

  “I’ll go see as soon as I stable my horse.” He looked first at Polly, then at Sunday and waited for Herb to make the introductions.

  “Me and Miss Polly is goin’ to the store.”

  Herb was not well-versed in etiquette. Sunday, on the other hand, had not a bashful bone in her body. She yanked off her glove an
d held out her hand.

  “Howdy. I’m Miss Sunday Polinski and this is Miss Polly Wright.”

  “Colin Tallman.”

  He took her strong hand in his and looked into the most startlingly direct blue eyes he’d ever seen. They played up and down his length and over the gray stallion like live things, missing nothing. She returned her gaze to his face without the slightest hint of coyness. She was a tall, fine-looking woman with clear golden skin and a great mass of golden-blond curly hair.

  Sunday Polinski was not a classic beauty: her mouth was wide, her eyes were large and far apart, and her brown brows were straight and heavy. The curls looked as if they had never been tamed with a hairbrush. Damp with sweat, her tight ringlets framed her face. A pouch-like cloth around her waist was weighed down with nails. From her gloved hand hung a hammer.

  “Glad to meet ya, Colin Tallman.” Sunday gripped his hand and pumped it up and down. “That’s a damn good horse you got there.”

  “The best. We’ve been together a long time.” Colin stroked the big gray’s nose.

  Sunday put her hand on the horse’s rump and dipped her head to peer beneath his belly.

  “I knowed it right off. He’s still a stallion. I hate it when a good horse is cut. What’s his name?”

  “Del Norte.”

  “You name him?”

  “My grandpa did.” Colin thumbed back his hat. “He came down with a wild herd from the north. Grandpa caught him. I coaxed him to accept me.”

  Sunday loosed a hearty laugh. She walked around admiring the horse.

  “I like that. Ya didn’t break him, ya coaxed him to take to ya.” She hung the hammer on the cloth belt about her waist and cupped the big gray’s face with her palms. Except for the inquiring flick of its ears, the stallion stood rooted in his tracks.

  “He’s been known to bite,” Colin said quickly.

  Sunday glanced at Colin. The warning registered in the barest widening of her vivid blue eyes; then the heavy lashes shuttered her gaze and she turned back to the horse.

  “Ya ain’t goin’ to bite me are ya, big fella? Yo’re a lucky son of a gun to have a master who coaxed ya and didn’t break yore spirit, ya know that?” Her quick laugh broke with a throaty vibrance when the stallion stamped and switched his tail at the pesky flies. “Yo’re sayin’ ya know what I’m tellin’ ya.”

  “As a rule he doesn’t like ladies.”

  “I’m female, but I can’t say I’m a lady.” She laughed again. “Nothin’ I like better than a good horse. Nice meetin’ ya, Del Norte. You, too, Colin Tallman.”

  “Nice meetin’ you, Miss Polinski.”

  “Call me Sunday… Monday and Tuesday, too, if ya want to.” Musical laughter came from her lips; her eyes looked frankly into his.

  Colin smiled and inclined his head in a mock salute. “I’ll give it some thought.”

  “Be seein’ ya, Polly.” Sunday began to move away. “I can’t wait to get back to the henhouse and tell Miss Snooty-puss you and Jane are stayin’ at Kilkenny’s. She’s goin’ to have a conniption fit!”

  Polly and Herb went into the mercantile and Colin led his horse to the livery. He had never met a woman who was as free-speaking or who appeared to be as happy as Sunday Polinski. He had the impression that she would be able to see herself through any situation. And this puzzled him for the simple reason that she was so obviously feminine.

  Colin began to smile as an indescribable feeling of elation came over him.

  Chapter 10

  JANE lay beside Polly, gazing at the soft glow coming through the doorway of Doc’s room. She had given him a few drops of the laudanum, hoping he would get a few hours of sleep, and had left a lamp burning low. For the first time since morning she had a little time for herself.

  It was a relief, she grudgingly admitted, to be away from the place Sunday called the henhouse—and from her unknown enemy. Now that she had narrowed the list down to a few of the women, she doubted that she would have closed her eyes all night had she been there. When she had opened her valise here and spread out the contents, she had had no fear that someone would prowl through them.

  Her most valuable possession, the framed oil painting of her mother, leaned against the wall; two of her dresses—she had only three besides her good black skirt and white shirtwaist—had been shaken out and hung on a peg beside the door. Not wanting it to appear that she was settling in permanently, she had left the rest of her things in the case.

  So much had happened during this one day. Had she really sewn up a cut in a man’s leg and given an enema to a sick child? She had tamed the doctor much as she’d had to tame many an unruly child during her years at the orphanage. The poor man was dying and he was afraid, but the last thing he needed now was sympathy. That would take away his dignity and she didn’t think the doctor could endure that. Could she leave him if the opportunity came to get back to the station? Of course she could. Any number of the women in the henhouse would be happy to come in to tend to him if they were asked.

  Polly had been asleep when Jane tiptoed into their darkened room, undressed, washed and put on her nightdress. For a long while she stood beside the uncurtained window brushing her hair, scraping her scalp with the stiff bristles of the brush and looking down on the street.

  Even at this late hour men were moving about among the buildings. Some sat around campfires; some lounged on the porch of the cookhouse, which was well lit as was the saloon. Jane thought briefly of Theda, the flame-haired woman, and imagined her there serving drinks to the men.

  She had not thought it possible that so much progress on the buildings could be made in one day. Several roofs had shiny new tin over the rotted shingles, porches were shored up, windows and floors replaced. Framework for the new buildings was in place—and, according to Kilkenny, the crew from the mill and the cutting camps would be here two more days.

  Jane felt a momentary pang of sadness at the thought of leaving the town while it was being brought back to life. She would have liked to have been here to see the school filled with children and the church full on Sunday morning. Someday a courthouse would be there in the town square. Maybe even a library…

  It was soothing to brush her hair. In her opinion, it was her one claim to beauty. When let down, it came to her waist. She’d often wondered what it would be like to have a man standing behind her running the brush lovingly through her hair. It had happened to the heroine in a book she had read, and long after she had finished the last page, the scene stayed in her mind.

  Jane was totally unaware that she was a very pretty young woman. She felt old and was convinced that she was plain. A woman was considered in her prime between fifteen and twenty. She would be twenty-four in a day or two. Many women had four or five children by the time they reached her age. She had cared for the children who came and went from the home and had strived not to become too attached to any of them. She had been lonely all her life, longing for someone of her own, a brother or a sister, or a man who would love her despite who she was.

  Fanciful notions, she thought with a pang of regret and scolded herself. She must concentrate on getting away from here and finding a place where she could live without the threat of exposure always hanging over her head. She put away the brush and shivered a little. Nights were as cool here as they were in Denver.

  Lying still so as not to disturb Polly, Jane thought about what a difference this day had made in the life of the young girl. Polly had put away the supplies she and Herb had brought from the mercantile and had prepared supper efficiently and cheerfully. Jane was sure that Herb had something to do with that cheer. He had made himself available to help her every possible minute. When it came time to sit down to eat the meal of meat, brown gravy, potatoes and biscuits, Jane had managed to be upstairs in the doctor’s room. She went down and ate her supper after T.C. and Colin had left the house.

  Jane feared that she was becoming too fond of the testy little doctor, which she had not allowed herself to do wi
th the children because partings were too painful. She sensed that Doc had been lonely too. In another time and another place, she would have been eager to work with him and to learn from him. She was touched when he asked her to call him Nathan.

  “For too long I’ve been just the doc, the sawbones who patched up gunshot holes and fixed broken bones and then was forgotten until needed again. For the little time I have left, I want to be a man called Nathan.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “You know, I drank all that whiskey thinking it would speed this thing along and make me forget about it until I was too far gone to care. Didn’t help. All it did was make me puke and brought back all the misery and suffering I’ve seen in my forty-four years. How old are you, Jane?” he asked abruptly.

  “How old is an old maid?”

  “You’ll not let me forget that, will you?”

  “No. You jarred me a little with that one—especially the pig-ugly part. I had thought of myself as a raving beauty.”

  Doc didn’t even smile at her joke. He was in pain. It was evident in the way he grimaced from time to time and gripped the bedclothes with his strong, slender surgeon’s hands. Visiting with her was a way to put off as long as possible the need for the sleep-inducing drug.

  They talked of many things. She told him about each of the women who had come to Timbertown, and about the old buildings being repaired and the new ones going up. Running short of something to talk about, she told him about Bill Wassall thinking she was the lady barber.

  Finally, she related Polly Wright’s story.

  “She was afraid Mr. Kilkenny would send her back when he discovered she was going to have a baby. Before she came over here, she laced herself so tight in a corset that she swooned.”

  “She’s showing that much?”

  “She’s small and thin. Yes, it shows.”

  “Foolish, foolish,” Doc sputtered.

  “She’s just sixteen. Yet she had the courage to get away from the man who violated her and who had planned to make money by letting other men violate her.”

  “A man who’d do such a thing to a young girl should be castrated.”