The Listening Sky (13 page)

“Ya don’t mean that, honey. Ya want a good man ‘tween your legs. It’s why ya come here, ain’t it?”

“No! I came to work.”

He chuckled. His hot dark eyes moved to her breasts and lingered.

“Ya come to get a man. Girl like you can’t get along in this country without one. Ya got to have somebody to feed ya, look
after ya.”

“I’ll work and take care of myself,” she blurted.

“If it’s work ya want, sweet thin’, I can give ya plenty a work right on yore pretty little backside, doin’ what women was
made to be doin’. Ya’d not have to do a lick a work out-doors, little doll. All ya’d have to do is wait fer me to come pleasure
ya.”

“Go away!”

“Ya don’t mean that, honey,” he said again.

“I said… go away!” Polly began to tremble. She looked around for help. The big dray wagon had stopped in the street in front
of the building and was blocking the view. She glanced toward the door. She would not be able to get around him to reach it.

“Name’s Polly, ain’t it? Pretty name for a pretty gal. I’m puttin’ in for ya, Polly. I want ya for my woman. I like ‘em young
an’ soft and squealin’—” He reached out a finger to touch her cheek and she jerked away. “Don’t shy away. I’ll be real good
to ya. Ya ain’t had no man, have ya?” His hand came out and clasped her wrist.

“Get away! Let go of
me!”
Polly tried to pull away, but her strength was nothing against his.

“Don’t fight it, honeybunch. Ya’ll come to like what a real man does to ya. I’ve done set my sights on ya and I usually gets—”

“Ya rotten sonofabitch!”

Herb grasped Milo by the back of the neck with a powerful hand. He jerked him off his feet, off the porch, and threw him to
the ground.’Agile as a cat, Milo rolled to his feet with a fist drawn back.

“Why’d ya do that for? Ya dealin’ in, kid?” he snarled before he looked closely at the hard face of the man who stood ready
to draw his gun. Sudden fear sent a shiver racing over his skin.

Hellfire! The bastard was set to kill him!

“I made the first move. What’s yores?”

Milo’s eyes flicked down to the hand hovering over the six-gun strapped to a thigh the size of a tree trunk. Christamighty!
This big overgrown kid was coiled like a ratder ready to strike.

“I ain’t armed.”

“Ya got fists, same as me.”

Milo looked at the size of the man challenging him. Hell, he was outweighed by fifty pounds.

“Make up yore mind, if ya got one.” Herb’s sarcastic tone added to the insult.

Milo knew when to stand and when to back down. He grinned and winked.

“I was just talkin’ to her. Shit, friend, that’s what she’s here for, ain’t it?”

Herb snorted an obscenity and suppressed the urge to pound the man to a bloody pulp.

“No, that ain’t what she’s here for. And I ain’t yore friend. I don’t have addle-brained, shit-eatin’ buzzards for friends.”

“Touchy, ain’t ya? Why’d they brin’ the women in fer if they warn’t to be used?”

“They wasn’t brought here to be
used. My
job’s to keep scum like you away from ‘em. Especially this’n.”

“Ya puttin’ a claim on this baggage?”

“She’s not
baggage
to be
claimed.”
Herb’s face froze into lines of anger.

Milo shrugged. “She ain’t the only woman here lookin’ for a man.” He eyed. Polly with smiling interest “But she’s the youngest
and I do like ‘em young. I’ll give her a day or two. She’ll come ‘round to my way a thinkin’.”

Milo turned away and forced himself to walk slowly and confidently.
Ya snot-nosed sonofabitch! Ya’ll get yore whacker cut off or my name ain’t Milo Callahan.

Herb watched until Milo joined the crew digging the foundation for another building before he stepped back up onto the porch.

“He hurt ya, Miss Polly?”

She shook her head, but she rubbed the spot on her arm where Milo had grabbed her. When she finally looked up at Herb, she
was blinking tears from her soft dark eyes.

“Thank you.” Her quivering voice came out in a whisper.

“Shoot, Miss Polly. I should’a come over here soon as I couldn’t see ya for the wagon.”

“I… I can’t find Jane.” Tears overflowed and ran down Polly’s cheeks. The vision of the months ahead filled with fear and
uncertainties almost overwhelmed her.

“Here, now. It’s nothin’ to cry ‘bout. Miss Jane’s over to the house lookin’ after Doc. Here, now—” Herb moved so that his
broad shoulders would shield her from the road when he heard the freight wagon moving. “Lordy mercy! Have ya been standin’
over here a ‘frettin’ ‘bout that? I should’a come and eased yore mind.”

Polly took a cloth from the string purse looped over her arm and dabbed at her eyes.

“I was afraid she’d gone.”

“Doc’s mighty sick. Miss Jane made mush and got him to eat some of it. I ain’t knowin’ how she did it. Doc can be stubborn
as a army mule when he sets his mind.” Herb’s face was furrowed with concern. “Ya all right now? I’m sorry I didn’t get here
sooner, Miss Polly. I saw ya standin’ here, and was kind’a keepin’ my eye on ya when that dray wagon moved in. I never even
saw that mangy polecat come over here.”

“He came along the building. I didn’t see him or I’d a gone back in.”

“Ya shouldn’t ought to have to be worryin’. T.C. wants womenfolk to feel safe in this town.”

He looked down on her soft, shiny light-brown hair. It was parted in the middle with loose braids coiled over each of her
ears. She was as sweet and as helpless as a kitten. She had been sorely used by a lowlife passing himself off as a man. Herb
made a silent vow that if he ever set eyes on the varmint, he would gun him down the same as he would a rabid dog.

He didn’t know why he’d had the sudden urge to cross the road. Something had drawn him to come to Polly when she needed him.
He was so glad he had. The poor little thing was trembling like a little scared rabbit.

“If ya want, I’ll take ya over to the house where Miss Jane is.” He spoke softly so as not to frighten her.

“Mr. Kilkenny wouldn’t care?” She raised large dark eyes to search his face.

“Naw. He’d not stand for anybody botherin’ ya.”

“I don’t want to cause trouble.”

“Miss Polly, that feller just might of been tryin’ to court ya, in a rough way, that is. I can’t blame him for wantin’ to,
‘cause yo’re awful pretty.” Herb was trying to put
her at
ease. “I don’t want ya to be feelin’ scared.”

“I… can’t help it. He’s so sure.” She shuddered and looked away from him.

“Sure a what?”

“Ah… sure I can’t take care of myself, that I got to take a—” Her voice faded when she found she couldn’t utter the distasteful
word.

“—Ya don’t have to take anybody. Ya don’t have to do nothin’ ya don’t want to.”

“I think it’s why Jane wants to leave. She says Mr. Kilkenny brought us here to marry with his lumberjacks and mill workers.”

“T.C.’s job is to build this town. He needs womenfolk to do women’s work. If a woman wants to wed, she can. If she don’t want
to, she’ll have work here. He made that plain right off.”

“Jane don’t like him.”

“T.C.’s all right. Him and Colin is straight-shootin’ as they come.”

“She don’t trust him.”

“Maybe we can change her mind.”

“Oh, I wish we could.”

The smile Polly gave him was one of girlish sweetness, warm with the glow of complete trust.

“We’ll work on it.”

When they stepped off the porch to cross the road, his hand beneath Polly’s elbow, Herb was walking about two feet off the
ground and his heart was like a runaway horse in his chest.

The tall, slim woman shook the mass of unruly blond hair from her forehead, lifted the end of a plank and playfully jabbed
it at the man on the other end. They were transporting the sawed lumber from the wagon to the site where men were erecting
the frame of the hotel. She moved freely in her dark split skirt, but the faded red shirt tucked tightly into the waistband
clung to her, emphasizing her small waist and full breasts. Her sleeves were rolled to the elbows and she wore a pair of leather
gloves.

Colin had been watching her for some time and listening as her merry laughter rang out. There was nothing coy or pretentious
about her. She was enjoying the physical labor and the companionship of her fellow workers.

Colin was smiling when T.C. stepped up onto the porch.

“She’s quite a woman.” T.C.’s eyes followed Colin’s.

“She keeps the fellers unloading that wagon movin’,” Colin said with a chuckle. “They don’t dare slow up and let her outdo
them.”

“Her name is Sunday Polinski. She told me she was damn good at making cedar shingles.”

“I don’t doubt it. I saw her swing an axe.”

“Have the men treated her right?”

“Not a one’s laid a hand on her yet.”

“She’s a woman who can take care of herself. I don’t know as I’d want to tangle with her if she had an edge. She could hurt
a man real bad.”

Both men noticed Patrice picking her way daintily across the rough road. Her shiny black hair was piled high on her shapely
head and secured with a fancy comb. Large silver loops hung from her ears. Even though it was a warm day she wore an elaborately
decorated shawl over her shoulders.

“I think I’ll go check up on Doc.” T.C. headed for the door.

“Some friend you are.” Colin muttered.

Patrice came up the steps to the porch. “Morning, Colin.”

“Mornin’.”

“The goings-on here are enough to make a person’s head swim. I swear to goodness. Does T.C. really think he can build up this
old town?”

“I guess he does or he wouldn’t have started it.”

“How long are you staying here, Colin?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“I can’t imagine you liking this place. When are you going back to your ranch?”

“Sometime.”

“Go now and take me.” Patrice was undaunted by Colin’s short answers. “Please, Colin. I’ll be a help to you. I swear it.”

Colin looked at her and shook his head in amazement.

“I’ve not completely lost my mind. You’re married, Patrice. And if you weren’t, I’d still not take you. Christ on a horse!
You’d be about as much help on a ranch as a newborn babe.”

“I can learn—”

“No.

“I heard that you and T.C. brought a big herd of longhorns up from Texas.”

“We did.” Colin didn’t feel it necessary to tell her that by building this town T.C. was helping to pay for them.

“I hope they’re there when you get back. Rustlers stole half a herd from Ramon.”

“They’ll be there.”

“How can you be sure? Who is watching the herd? Who is watching the men watching the herd?”

“That is none of your business. Is there anything else you want to know?”

“Well, my goodness. I was just trying to make conversation. You’re getting to be as rude as T.C.” After a pause, she placed
her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Colin. I want to talk to you, be with you, and you… just won’t cooperate.”

“We have nothing to talk about, Señora Cabeza. I told you that last night. You shouldn’t have come here. You should be at
home with your husband.”

“You’re still bitter about that.”

“Think what you want.”

“Ramon threatened to kill me.”

“Ramon is too tight with a buck to destroy his valuable property. And to Ramon you are like a beautiful piece of furniture
to show off and prove how well-off he is. It’s a life you chose.”

“But he said he’d kill me.”

“He may give you a beating, but he won’t leave permanent scars.”

“How can you be so callous after all we’ve been to each other?”

“To each other? If I remember right the feeling was all on one side. I’ll admit that I owe Ramon a debt of gratitude. He married
you and brought me to my senses before I made the biggest mistake of my life.”

“Colin! You’re being… unkind.” Her large dark eyes filled with tears.

“I’m being truthful.”

Patrice sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with a lacy handkerchief. After a moment or two she looked up to see that Colin was
unmoved by her tears. He was watching the activity down the street.

“Did you ask T.C. to find me another place to stay?”

“No. Look around you, Patrice. They’re workin’ to fix up the hotel and the other buildings. You can bed down in the funerary.
I don’t think you’d be alone for very long.” Colin gestured toward a narrow building with a sagging roof.

“You’re poking fun at me now.”

“I’m tellin’ it as it is.”

“This is a big house. Surely there’s one little room I can use. You don’t know how awful it is to be in the room with those
dreadful low-class women. Look at that blond hussy out there unloading lumber like a man.” Patrice pointed a finger toward
Sunday. “She’s not got one ladylike quality. She’s loud and crude and—”

“—Carrying her own weight; not sitting on her keister expecting to be waited on.”

“Colin! I can’t believe that you’d approve of a woman working alongside those rough men. Look at her! She loves it. What would
your mother say?”

“My mother was that kind of woman.” Colin’s voice was hard and impatient. “During the war she raised sheep, spun the wool
into thread, and knitted socks and caps so she could feed three little kids and a young girl. She did more than that, she
gave up the farm where she’d lived all her life to take us away when she thought we’d be taken from her.”

Colin settled his hat more firmly on his head and crossed his arms over his chest. He was angry at himself for even talking
about his mother to this selfish creature.

“Colin,” Patrice began again in a wheedling voice. “Please ask T.C. to let me stay here.”

“Ask him yourself,” he said as T.C. came out onto the porch and headed down the steps.

“T.C., I need to speak to you for a minute.”

“Then make it snappy. I’ve got to get some papers over to Jeb.”

“It seems you have time for everyone but me.”

“This may come as a surprise to you, but I’m too busy to jump when you holler. What do you want?” He spoke with exaggerated
patience.

“Well… I’d really appreciate it, T.C., if you’d make room for me here. I’ll take any little space. I promise not to be in
the way—”