The Listening Sky (31 page)

Upstairs in the hotel, Patrice stood beside the window where she could look down on the street. She saw Colin come out of
the store and cross the street to where Sunday waited. She watched them talk and saw Sunday, clearly angry, go down the boardwalk
leaving Colin looking after her. Patrice wasn’t sure, but she thought he glanced up at her hotel room.

With a satisfied smirk she began to pretty herself up in case a visitor might be on his way.

It was not the best day for some people in Timbertown. Both Colin and Sunday believed it was the worst day of their lives.
Jane spent most of the day sleeping and was unaware of all that was going on. Maude and Polly tiptoed into the room now and
then, worried that she was sleeping too much.

To the single women who had secretly hoped T.C. would notice them, his marriage to Jane was a disappointment. Much of the
conversation centered on how she had landed the
prize.
Paralee and Bessie fabricated a version that took root since there was no other explanation. They claimed Jane had crawled
into T.C.’s bed and that the two of them had been caught by Maude Henderson, who had shamed T.C. Kilkenny into marrying the
strumpet.

To the women who had received nothing but kindness from Jane when they took their children to the surgery, however, the news
meant that she would be staying on. They liked her and wished her happiness.

On this day of all days, T.C. had to deal with three more freight wagons that arrived. He posted Herb at the house and told
him not to let anyone in who had not been there the night before. Colin checked in the freight, even though his mood was far
from pleasant.

T.C. attempted to settle a squabble between the hotel cook and the hotel manager. The cook was not pleased with anything in
the kitchen, nor was he pleased with the help that had been provided.

“It isn’t Delmonico’s, for God’s sake!” T.C. shouted in frustration. By the time both parties had calmed down, T.C. was tempted
to fork the cook on a horse and run him out of town.

On the other end of the scale, Mrs. Brackey had worked companionably alongside the men setting up the equipment in her tonsorial
parlor, and her place of business was due to open the next day.

The courier returned from the train stop with the mail pouch, and in it was the news that the first stage would arrive in
a week’s time. Notices had been sent to be posted in all public places. A small building next to the hotel would serve as
the station.

A letter from Garrick Rowe, sent from Laramie, said that within the next week or so the new doctor would make the trip to
Timbertown on his new stage line. He was asking about the accommodations at the hotel.

At noon Tennihill rode in, dropped his horse off at the livery and, after stopping to chat a minute with a disgruntled Colin,
went in search of T.C. He found him at a cluttered desk, cursing at the stack of bills of lading given him by the freighters.

“Howdy.” Tennihill strolled in leisurely. T.C. wondered if the man was ever in a hurry.

“Have a seat, Tennihill.”

“Heard ya got married this mornin’. Hell of a way to spend yore weddin’ day.” He took the makings of a cigarette from his
pocket and rolled a smoke.

“I agree. What’s on your mind?”

“Ya know, I been a watching the feller that calls hisself Milo Callahan.”

“Calls himself? I thought you were sure who he was.”

Tennihill grinned. “Feller ort never be
sure
of anythin’ but dyin.”

“I wondered why a man like you would be hanging around in a town like this.”

“Ya’d be surprised at the places I’ve hung out in when somebody’s payin’ the tab. Back to Callahan. He got run out of the
Bitterroot country over around Spencer a year ago. It was not proved but was believed he hired a couple a timber scum to kidnap
a young girl and ruin her.”

T.C.’s head came up. “Did they?”

“No, and they got a dose a lead for tryin’. Callahan had got hisself drunk and passed out in the bunkhouse so he’d not be
blamed, but the ones that done it was his boot-lickers. He’s not welcome in any timber camp in the Bitterroot.” Tennihill
struck a match on the bottom of his boot and lit his cigarette before he continued.

“To shorten the story, Callahan’s got some money comin’ from his step-pa. If this feller was the right one, I was to send
him back to Coeur d’Alene.”

“Is he the right one?”

“I ain’t one hundred percent sure.” Tennihi11 grinned again.

T.C. snorted an obscenity.

“I took notice a Bob Fresno right off,” Tennihill said in his slow drawl. “Heard about him up around Great Falls. Heard a
feller named Fresno took a widder woman for ever’ cent she had, then beat the tar outta her. He’s a mean one, but a smooth-type
feller. I don’t doubt there’s a wanted poster out on him. I just don’t happen to have one.”

“I could send word to Laramie and find out.”

“Might not be a bad idey. Got to thinkin’ he’d be interested in the happenin’ this mornin’, knowin’ he didn’t take his eyes
off Miss Jane, er… Mrs. Kilkenny, at the buryin’ and got him a chance to rub up against her at the table. I saddled my horse
and rode over to where they was workin’ on that old shack him and Callahan was figurin’ on winterin’ in.”

“I couldn’t stop them from staying there,” T.C. put in.” “But Jeb and I already ruled them out of any work for Rowe Lumber
Company. Fresno knows next to nothing about logging, and Callahan’s too reckless and too much of a hothead for dangerous work.”

“Figured it. Makin’ out as I was stoppin’ to pass the day, I handed them the news of the weddin’ kind a casual-like. Fresno
didn’t say nothin’ right at the start. Just stood and stared at me. Then lightnin’-quick he threw the hammer right through
the wall of that old shack.”

“Callahan have nothin’ to say?” T.C. asked.

“He kind a hee-hawed Fresno. Crowed, ‘cause he’s been diddlin’ with the girl, Bessie, and Fresno don’t have no woman. He’d
been braggin’ that he was gettin’ Miss Jane.”

“I’ll see him in hell first!”

“Knowed ya’d feel that way. Callahan kept crowin’ Fresno, and ‘bout got hisself gut-shot. Man’s a pretty fair hand with a
gun. Drawed it, an’ Callahan ‘bout wet his drawers.”

“Pity it wasn’t the other way around.”

“I moseyed on off but doubled back and stayed out of sight. They packed up all their gear and rode south. I followed for about
ten miles. I ain’t sure when they’ll be back, but I got a feelin’ ya’ve not seen the last of them.”

“Where we goin’, Fresno?”

“Place I know.”

Aware that Bob was in a black mood, Milo had been riding alongside him for miles without asking the question.

“Never did know why ya wanted to sign on to work here,” Milo grumbled. “Hell, they ain’t got nothin’ compared to Callahan
Lumber.”

“If they got so damn much, why aren’t ya there?”

“I got my reasons.”

“Yeah? Run ya off, didn’t they?”

Milo bristled. “What’d ya mean by that?”

Bob didn’t answer. He had too much on his mind to waste time explaining to a dumbhead. He and Milo had been at the stage station
trying to decide if they wanted to sign up to work for Rowe Lumber when Jane had arrived.

One look at her, haughty and cold, and Bob’s decision has been made. She was poor as Job’s turkey. He had noticed the worn
shawl and shoes. But she had class, and that was what he was interested in. If she was alone and down on her luck, and she’d
had to be to come to a one-horse, rundown town, she’d appreciate what they could do together, once she got to know him.

He hadn’t counted on being so smitten by her.

Why’d T.C. Kilkenny marry her? By holy damn, it made no never mind. He’d just have to kill the sonofabitch. It was better
to get out of town, so he wouldn’t be blamed when Kilkenny showed up back-shot. Fresno wanted no new wanted posters out on
him when he took Jane and they headed west.

Bob began to plan. He doubted if many people in town knew the reputation of Herb Banks. Callahan didn’t know or he’d never
have fooled with him. Banks looked like a kid, acted like a kid, but he’d laid out a good number of men who had thought he
was a
kid. Raised on wolf milk, some said. He’d taken the woman Callahan wanted. Bob wondered how he could use
that
to his advantage.

Another thing was money. He was getting short. He glanced at Milo. If nothing else turned up… he’d take Milo’s.

J
ANE
awoke in the late afternoon and sat up on the side of the bed for a long moment, allowing her head to clear before she went
to the window. The sun had already gone behind the mountains to the west. She had spent the whole day in bed, something she
had done only a few times in her life. What must everyone think of her—then like a bolt it hit her.

She had been married this morning to T.C. Kilkenny!

Jane put her palms to her cheeks as memory came roaring back. He had explained that she would be safe here as his wife. That
he
wanted
to marry her. He had even said that he loved her. But she knew
that
to be a broad statement. He
liked
her. He was giving her his protection. Her mind could not come up with a logical reason why he married her to protect her.
Under the same circumstances, would he have
married
Sunday or Paralee or Mrs. Brackey?

At the moment he suggested that they marry, her spirits had been so low that she would have done anything other than commit
murder in order to stay within the safety of his arms, to lean against him, to believe that he cared for her. The feeling,
however brief, of being loved, even cherished, had been undeniably sweet. She would remember it always.

T.C. had urged her to marry him, but had not insisted. It had been her decision. She’d had her chance to say no when the preacher
asked her if she would take T.C. Kilkenny for her husband to love and to cherish until death parted them. She closed her eyes
in an agony of humiliation at her weakness.

Oh, Lord! What had she done to him?

She would have to tell him now. It was the only
decent
thing to do. She could not, would not, see him ridiculed before the whole town. The preacher, after the situation was explained
to him, would tear up the wedding paper because they had not become man and wife in the eyes of God.

Moving slowly, not sure if the pain in her head was completely gone, Jane put on her dress and her shoes. Her valise was on
the floor beside the bureau and her shawl and bonnet hung on the pegs beside T.C.’s coat. For a moment she pressed her face
to the soft leather and breathed in the scent of him. Then she took her mother’s picture from her valise and moved the valise
over beneath her shawl beside the door. She placed the picture face down on the valise.

At the small mirror over T.C.’s bureau, where a comb and brush were laid out, she brushed her hair, coiled it neatly and pinned
it at the nape of her neck.

Leaning close to the mirror, she inspected the scratches on her cheeks and her forehead and the dark circles beneath her eyes.
What a sight! She turned quickly from the mirror and straightened the bed so that there was not even a hint it had been occupied
all day long.

She desperately needed to make a trip to the outhouse, but fear cut through her like a hot knife at the thought of going to
that dreadful place. Instead, she labored up the stairs to the room she shared with Polly, hoping the chamber pot was there.
It was, and it was empty. In the privacy of the room, she attended to her bodily needs, adjusted her clothing and gathered
strength to go back downstairs. The sooner she faced the situation she had caused by coming here, the better for all concerned.

Jane paused in the doorway of the kitchen. Maude, Polly and Stella were there. The table was set with a white cloth. Looking
more closely, Jane could see that it was a folded bedsheet. In the center of the table was a tall cake with a small candle
in the center. Polly and Stella were giggling. Maude, her face flushed from the heat of the cookstove, laughingly scolded
them.

“Jane!” Polly came to take her hand.

“Ya feelin’ better?” “Much better. I feel like a sluggard spending so much time in bed while you two did the work.”

“Ya sure ya feel better?” Maude asked, wiping her hands on her apron. “We were so worried.”

“I must confess to being a little weak. I can’t remember the last time I ate.”

“Ma, give her the end of the bread. I’ll get butter to go on it.” Stella wrapped her arms around Jane’s waist.

“That’s your favorite part, Stella.”

“I want ya to have it, Miss Jane” The little arms tightened about her.

“Thank you, puddin’. It’ll fill the empty place until supper.”

Jane’s eyes followed the little girl, who danced away to help her mother. She was no longer the shy, scared child she has
been when she arrived in Timbertown. The town had changed the lives of many who had come here. She now knew what it meant
to love a man. Maude felt comfortable enough to reveal her warmth, and Polly’s once-sad face was rosy and smiling.

“We’re goin’ to have the weddin’ cake when Mr. Kilkenny gets home,” Stella announced. “We have to eat supper first. Mamma
made sugar-syrup icin’.” She returned to lean against Jane’s knee.

“It’s very pretty.”

Jane ate the hot bread, not because she was hungry, but because she needed strength to get through the next few hours, which
she knew might be the worst in her life. She was unable to think beyond that.

“We haven’t seen Sunday since right after the weddin’.” Maude set a mug of hot tea on the table in front of Jane.

Jane tried not to flinch when they talked about the wedding. She hurriedly ate another slice of bread. She needed to be rid
of that fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach before T.C. came home.
Home.
The word held a world of meaning. She’d longed for one when she was young.

“She’s working in the store, isn’t she?” Jane forced herself to join the conversation.