The Listening Sky (24 page)

This little by-play was amusing, a diversion from the reason Tennihill was here. He folded his pocketknife and put it in his
pocket. It was time to mosey on up to the saloon and see what Milo Callahan was up to.

Jane thought it grossly unfair and terribly rude when the men came to the tables first. The women and children stood back
and waited. The preacher seemed to think nothing of it. He was the first to fill his plate. Mrs. Gillis, the matron at the
school, had been strict about proper etiquette and had insisted the children be taught manners. Jane tried to think of an
excuse for this behavior and nothing came to mind except that, because the men were the providers, they had first choice.
In Jane’s view, it was a very primitive custom.

The women from the henhouse were none too friendly with Jane. Not so the women from the cabins and homesteads. Word had spread
about the sick children Jane had helped, and now all were anxious to know if she was staying until a new doctor arrived. The
news had spread fast that she would be leaving. She supposed that anything vaguely connected to Kilkenny was of great interest.
She could imagine what would happen if her secret were revealed. It would travel through the town like a wildfire, and T.C.
would lose no time getting her to the train. She had no doubt that he would be decent enough to do that.

Jane tried to keep her eye on Paralee, Bessie and Minnie Perkins. They stuck together except when one of them had a chance
to walk off with a man. Jane now believed none of the three knew her secret because they seemed to be unable to hold their
tongues about any bit of gossip. That left Bertha Phillips and Grace Schwab as suspects.

Jane’s head began to ache with the nervous strain of keeping up appearances and not showing her worry. There were plenty of
willing hands helping to clear the tables. Assuming she wouldn’t be missed, Jane went upstairs to the room she had shared
with Polly.

She opened her valise and took stock of the contents. The blue dress she had worn when she arrived had been washed and ironed.
She would save it for traveling. The drab brown dress would do for this evening. She changed clothes and, after carefully
folding her good skirt and her shirtwaist, repacked her valise.

Standing beside the window, she looked down on the street and thought about Polly. She would be all right now. Herb would
marry her. He was not much more than a boy, but with help from Colin and T.C. they would make out.

Polly had been disappointed that she and Jane could no longer stay here in T.C.’s house at night. Maude had invited the girl
to live with her and Stella. Jane was hoping to spend the night with Sunday, who was staying at the boarding house. She had
not yet asked her, but if that were not possible, she would go to the henhouse, even though the women she suspected of sending
her the notes were there, and she’d not dare sleep.

Looking down the street, Jane saw T.C. talking to the lanky Mr. Tennihill. It was pure pleasure to look at T.C. He stood with
one foot resting on the edge of the cookhouse porch, his forearm on his thigh. As she watched, he lifted his hand and tilted
back his hat. He had a large frame, but life had given him a lean trimness. Hard work had built a powerful body with a vast
supply of vitality. He was self-assured and confident. T.C. Kilkenny was comfortable with who he was: one-quarter English,
one-quarter Blackfoot and one-half Irish. Had he been teasing her when he said T.C. stood for Thunder Cloud?

Jane’s eyes fastened on his face. If things had been different, she would have enjoyed the attention of such a man, even knowing
his intentions were not serious. Jane believed herself to be level-headed. T.C.’s interest in her was not romantic. He wanted
her to stay because she was a teacher, a nurse of sorts, an adequate letter writer and a bookkeeper. She was merely an asset
to his town, and he was using his charm to keep her here.

Next spring his job would be done, and he and Colin would go to their ranch. Right now, getting this town on its feet was
what was uppermost in his mind.

Summer was winding down and the days were getting shorter. The time between sundown and dark was especially short here in
the mountains. The room was in a deep gloom when Jane turned from the window on hearing Polly call.

“Jane, are ya up here?”

“Yes, I’m getting ready to come down. Is Sunday still down there?”

“She went off somewhere with Colin. Ya know, I think he likes her. They always got their heads together talkin’.”

“I wanted to talk to her about my staying with her at the rooming house.”

“There ain’t no need for us to go now. Maude and Stella are comin’ to stay in Doc’s room so folks won’t talk. Maude already
changed the bed.”

“When was this decided?”

“Maude said T.C. asked her ‘cause you feared we’d be talked about.”

“I’m glad for you, Polly. I know you wanted to stay.”

“Maude and Stella are tickled. Stella is gettin’ to where she ain’t so bashful no more.” Polly began fumbling in her pocket.
“Maude found this on the table under a butter crock.

She says it’s got your name on it.” Polly giggled. “We think ya got a feller and he’s bashful.” As Jane accepted the folded
paper, she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “He’d better watch out for T.C.,” Polly added. “Maude thinks T.C.
likes ya. Really likes ya.”

“Maude is as wrong as wrong can be.” Jane shoved the note down in her pocket with a shaking hand. “I’ll read this later.”

“I’m goin’ for a walk with Herb. I come to get my shawl. Ya’ll be here when I get back?”

“I’ll be here or over at the henhouse.”

“Oh, Jane. Be here. Please be here.”

“We’ll see. Run along and have a good time with Herb.”

“He is so nice. I ain’t never met nobody as kind as Herb. I just never thought anybody like
him
would like
me
.”

“Why not? You’re sweet and pretty—”

“But, you know… the other. Do you think he knows about
that
?”

“I’m sure he does. Some men would hold that against you, but not Herb.”

“Oh I hope yo’re right.”

“I’m sure I am. Now run along.”

Jane was afraid she’d burst into tears before Polly got out of the room. She hurried to the table and struck a match to light
the lamp. In the flickering light she took the note from her pocket. This one was different. The paper had been folded. To
keep it closed, two little tears had been made on three sides. The paper between the tears was folded down. Her name was on
the outside fold. Jane held it in her hands, dreading to open it, and was tempted to hold it to the flame in the lamp and
destroy it. Unaware that she was holding her breath, she separated the folds to read the message. The frightening words jumped
out at her.

stay here

or I kill yu

Her eyes blurred as she read, She could almost feel the hatred directed toward her. As if destroying her peace of mind and
threatening to humiliate her were not enough, her enemy was ready to kill.

Jane unfastened the safety pin on the pocket where she kept the notes and slipped the new one in alongside the others. She
blew out the lamp, sank down on the edge of the bed and tried to think. This message put a whole new light on things. Neither
of the women she suspected of sending the notes seemed capable of murdering anyone, though both had vicious tongues.

One of the men must be behind this.
But which one?

Bob Fresno had offered to take her to the train. Had he plans to get her out of Timbertown, then to kill her? She’d never
leave town with
him.
Besides, his willingness to take her away ran contrary to the words “stay here” in the note. The man called Milo could be
the one. She had judged him to be a shallow, mean man, but would he make a plan and carry it out in secret. No, he would want
credit for it.

She was not sure if one of the two Mexican men who had come to the station with Patrice Guzman Cabeza had traveled on to Timbertown.
One had ridden away; she was sure of that. A Mexican would have no interest in her, she reasoned. Or would he? Her secret
shame concerned a deed that had touched the lives of almost everyone in the Western territories.

Jane tried to remember the other men who had been at the stage station. Most of them had been looking for work. Some were
family men, hoping to bring their families after they were settled. She hadn’t paid enough attention to any of them even to
remember who was there. And several men had arrived that day on horseback. She must not forget about them.

The hands she pressed to her cheeks were cold and clammy. One thought was clear. Someone
wanted
her to stay here to continue the tormenting until the appropriate time came to expose her and to enjoy her humiliation.

Dear God, she was tired of this black cloud hanging over her head.

The room was in darkness. Jane heard activity downstairs: the sound of the door closing followed by heavy footsteps on the
porch. T.C. was leaving the house. Herb was with Polly and Colin with Sunday.

The sensible thing to do would be to stay here for the night. Tomorrow, if T.C. refused to honor his promise to take her to
the stage station, she would ask Mr. Tennihill. If it came down to having to tell someone why she must go, she would rather
confide in a stranger. She did not think… no she was sure that she would not be able to bear the look of contempt on T.C.’s
face when he heard who she was.

Having made her decision, she decided the best way to avoid T.C. was to go to bed. But first she had to use the outhouse.
She took her nightdress out of her valise and placed it on the foot of the bed and left the room.

A wall lamp lit the lower hallway. As Jane reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard footsteps on the porch, Stella giggling
and then Maude’s calm voice. The door opened before she could flee. Maude and Stella came in carrying bags and several heavy
books.

“Set them down before you drop them,” Maude told her daughter. Then she saw Jane. “Feeling better, Jane?”

“Not much. I’ll be going to bed soon.”

“Mr. Kilkenny gave Stella some map books to look at. Did you know he’s been ever’where?”

“I know very little about Mr. Kilkenny.”

“We didn’t know we’d be here and Stella took them to the rooming house. She’s excited and going to want to look at them tonight.
We’ll be quiet.”

“Don’t worry about bothering me.” Jane said, thinking of the years she’d slept in the same room with ten or twelve girls.

When Maude and Stella began the struggle
to
get their belongings up the stairs, Jane escaped to the kitchen and on out the back door to the porch. The air was cool; the
sky was alight with a million stars, some so bright it appeared that a person could almost reach out and touch them. Jane
stood for a long moment, her face tilted to the sky, and hugged herself with her arms.

Doc, are you up there? I wish you could tell me what to do. Why didn’t I ask you on one of those nights when it seemed that
you and I were the only people in the whole world? I should have trusted you. If there was anyone who would have understood—it
Was you.

A shout of laughter from the street brought back to mind her original intent to do the necessary and get back to the room.
She stepped off the porch and hurried down the path to the privy.

When she reached the outhouse, she turned the small swivel board that kept the door closed. Inside she secured it by looping
a leather strap with a slit in the end over a peg. The privy was a sturdy structure with a floor, a feature that some thought
unnecessary. The wood on the seat was smooth and she had no trouble finding the opening in the dark.

Anxious to get back into the house and into bed before T.C. returned, Jane completed what needed to be done. She would have
a clearer head in the morning and would be more able to cope with his persuasive tactics, she reasoned as she adjusted her
clothing and opened the door. She pushed it outward, stepped out into the starlit night and turned to close it.

The blow came without warning. An agony of pain shot through her head like a fiery bolt. Brightly colored stars flashed before
her eyes and she felt herself pitch forward. Vaguely she knew she was falling toward the open door of the privy. Then blackness
closed in.

Polly walked beside Herb to the knoll where only this morning they had buried Doc. They stood silently beside the fresh grave.
Herb’s arm moved around her waist and pulled her close to his side. It was quiet and dark. Polly snuggled close to him. The
feeling of being cared for was so new, it made her almost giddy.

“Ya liked him a lot, didn’t ya?”

“Yeah. Doc was all right.”

“Did ya know what all he’d done in the war?”

“I knowed he was in it. Sometimes he had nightmares about what all he’d done. He didn’t do a lot of drinkin’ till lately.
When he was real drunk, he lived it again.”

“Jane said he knew he was goin’ to die and was tryin’ to get it over.”

“It’s what he’d do. I ain’t knowin’ where I’d be or what I’d be doin’ if it warn’t for Doc. Probably dead, or crippled up
by some back-shooter.”

“He thought a heap of ya, Herb. Ya could just tell it.”

“I’m goin’ to miss him. He wasn’t always as cantankerous as he was at the last. Miss Jane knew how to handle him. He liked
her ‘cause she stood up to him. I… couldn’t do it him bein’ sick and all.”

“At the last ya did. Jane said so. He’d a killed hisself if ya hadn’t took care of him.”

“Maybe I ought to a let him. He’d not a suffered so much.” They moved on around to the other side of the grave.

“I’m goin’ to get him one of them great big stones with his name on it. I’m goin’ to have ‘Little Doc’ put on it too. Then
I’ll put a fence around here. Maybe an iron one like I saw in Denver.”

“This whole hilltop should be cleaned off. This is a pretty place.”

“I’ll do that too. I ain’t forgettin’ Doc.”

“Of course not. But after a while it won’t hurt so much.”