The Listening Sky (35 page)

T.C. held his breath as her fingers began to trace the line of downy hair from the light furring on his chest to his navel
and beyond to the aroused flesh that refused to lie quietly.

She was a treasure a man would die for.

Later, she lay on his chest, her face nestled in the curve of his neck. They were silent and awed by the bliss they had found
together. They lay in the warm cocoon of each other’s arms. His fingers caressed the hair around her ears.

A long contented sigh escaped her.

“You’ve had a busy day, Mrs. Kilkenny.”

“I don’t want to sleep and waste a minute of this.”

“You can’t stay awake for the next forty years, my love.”

He tilted her face so that her lips might meet his, and their mouths played with tender warmth. Incapable of further speech,
they kissed each other tenderly again and again.

I
T
was a day like no other in Jane’s life.

Several times during the night she had been dreamily aware that her husband’s arms were wrapped around her. Her back was pressed
to his chest, her buttocks nestled in his lap, his knees were bent behind hers. Each time she awoke, his warm strong hand
was cupped about her naked breast; and, feeling loved, cherished, and protected, she would drift back to sleep.

This morning he had kissed her gently, urging her awake. The scent of him filled her brain. She lay trustingly against him,
a soft thigh snug between his, and moaned sleepily, her hand moving up from his chest to his cheek while she nuzzled her face
against his neck.

“Wake up, sweetheart.”

She tilted her head and gazed at him lovingly.

“You grew whiskers in the night.” Her fingers stroked his cheek.

“I’ll shave so I won’t scratch your soft skin.”

“I’m glad the lady barber isn’t Theda Cruise.”

“You don’t like the idea of that Theda shaving me?”

“I’d shave you myself first!” She giggled happily.

Content to lie quietly and look at each other, they didn’t speak for a long while. Finally T.C. stirred.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up so we can talk.”

What did he mean? Had he reconsidered? The stab of fear that shot through her almost took her breath. She went very still
as if her blood were draining from her body. She held onto him with all her strength, fearing her happiness was slipping away.

“But I’d much rather kiss you.” His lips played over her face before reaching hers. “I didn’t tell you this last night. For
some crazy reason”—he kissed her on the nose—”it went right out of my mind, but sometime today we must go over some of Doc’s
papers and put them in order so that I can send them to his solicitor.”

Relief brought a moistness to her eyes.

“Do you think he knows how happy I am?”

“I think he does.”

“At first, he tried hard not to let me know how scared he was. Then after a while he seemed to get used to the idea of dying,
and later, when the pain was bad, I think he prayed for it.”

“He may have fallen a little bit in love with you, sweetheart.”

“No! He liked me and I liked him. I wish I could have known him longer.”

“You’ll be very surprised when we go through his papers.”

“I’ll help if you want me to. And I’ll help you with your books, if you like.”

“Why do you think I married you?” he teased.

“For this?” Her lips traveled over his face and she moved her lower body close against his. She was giddy with the freedom
to touch him, tease him.

“That too. Behave, Mrs. Jane
Lovely
Kilkenny. I’ve got more to say.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“No, sweetheart. I want to be sure you understand that I don’t want you worrying about what you told me last night. You’ve
got me now to do your worrying.”

Her palm cupped his cheek. The smile left her face as her serious blue eyes looked into his.

“I got a bargain; you got a load of trouble.”

“A trouble shared is only half a trouble. We’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise you. We put the letters back behind your
mother’s picture. The notes are in safekeeping should we need them to compare handwriting—although I doubt the bastard will
be able to write when I get through with him.”

“I’m going to burn the letters.”

“I don’t want you to leave the house, honey, not even to go to the privy, unless someone is with you. I’ll see to it that
Colin or Herb will be close by if I can’t be. And I don’t want you in the house alone. Understand? I’ll tell Mrs. Henderson
that, if she must leave, to be sure that one of us or Sunday is here.”

“I’m so much trouble to everyone.”

“Shhh… You’re the sweetest trouble I ever had. I just hope the son of a bitch makes another move. If I don’t beat him to death,
he’ll wish I had.”

“Bill said you were a bare-knuckle champion.”

He grinned. “Did he tell you that my uncle, Moose Kilkenny, taught me? He lost his championship to Pack Gallagher over at
Laramie. I was there that day. Folks are still talking about that fight.”

“I couldn’t bear to see someone hit you. I’d get a buggy whip and wade right in,” she said staunchly.

“You would, huh?” He rolled her on her back and leaned over her. “As Doc would say, you’re a pistol. I wish we could stay
here all day, but I’ve got to get up.”

“I’ll cook your breakfast.”

He gave her a quick kiss. “Someone has beaten you to it. I heard noises in the kitchen.”

“Morning.”

“Moulin’, Mrs. T.C. Kilkenny.” Colin sprang up from the table, grabbed her and planted a quick kiss on her cheek. He sat back
down and grinned at T.C.

“Keep your hands off my wife!” T.C. pretended to be angry, but his eyes shone with pride. “Go get your own woman.”

“Don’t get all riled up and go on the warpath, Chief Thunder Cloud,” Colin said good-naturedly. “I didn’t get to kiss her
yesterday.”

To hide her confusion, Jane took a square cloth, folded it to make three corners and tied it about her waist.

“What’s to be done, Maude?” she asked.

“It’s done.” Maude put a platter of eggs on the table. “Sit down by your man and eat.”

Colin didn’t speak again. He ate his breakfast, excused himself and left.

“He’s not hisself,” Maude said sadly. “He was this way yesterday the little I saw of him.”

Herb came in to breakfast and then Polly. The people who shared this house as much family as Jane had ever had. Each one of
them was concerned for her. She wondered if they would feel the same if they knew who she was. She reached under the table
and placed her hand on her husband’s thigh. As if he knew what she was thinking, his hard hand covered hers, giving silent
assurance.

By mid-morning Jane’s meager belongings had been put away in the room she would share with T.C., and she was busy at the cluttered
table that served as his desk. He had already made three trips back to the house to make sure she was all right. Each time
she looked at him her heart did strange things that made her dizzy with happiness.

She stopped her work and listened to the singing coming from the kitchen. Maude and Stella were singing together. Their voices
blended in a sad ballad Jane had never heard before, which was no surprise to her because only hymns had been allowed at the
school.

In the world’s mighty gallery of pictures,
hang the scenes that are painted from life.

Pictures of youth and
of passion. Pictures of
grief and of strife.

A picture of love and of beauty, old age and a
blushing young bride,

All hang on the wall, but the saddest
of all,
is the picture of life’s other side.

The mother and daughter sang several verses of the song: one about a gambler, another about the mother who waited for her
son to come home. Jane hated for the singing to end. She waited, but heard Maude telling Stella to do her sums.

Not once had Maude mentioned where she and Stella had lived before. They never mentioned a husband or father. It was as if
they had been dropped out of the sky. Maude had been pretty at one time. Jane couldn’t help but wonder what had caused the
scars on her face and why both she and Stella had acted so skittish when they first arrived.

Whatever had happened to them was over now. Maude sang as she worked or helped her daughter with her schooling. She was also
helping Polly to read.

Jane returned to her ledger and was making an entry in the book when she heard the front door open. She looked up, expecting
to see T.C. again, but it was Sunday who stood in the doorway.

“Ya don’t look no different.”

“Come in, Sunday. Why would I look different?” Pleased to see her friend, Jane rose to go to her, then hesitated. It was rare
to see an unsmiling Sunday. “Herb said you were sick. Are you feeling better?”

“I’m
not
sick.” Sunday came into the room and flopped down in the chair in front of the table. Jane sat down again. “I told Mrs. Miller
to tell him that. I didn’t want to come over here last night and see
him
I was ‘fraid I’d poke his damned eyes out.”

“Him? If you mean Colin, he wasn’t here either.”

“I can guess where he was.” Sunday rolled her eyes. “The only reason I’m here now is ‘cause I saw him on that big horse headin’
out of town. And I wanted to see if yo’re doin’ all right.”

“I’m all right. Thank you for what you did for me. You found me, didn’t you?”

“Me and Maude. Is Maude mad ‘cause I didn’t show up for the big to-do?”

“I doubt that she is, but you’ll have to ask her.”

“Yo’re lookin’ chipper. Ya ain’t sorry ya married that big, ugly, ramroddin’ mick?”

Jane smiled. This was the Sunday she knew.

“Sorry? Oh, my no! Yesterday was the best day of my life. And he isn’t ugly! He’s beautiful.”

“Lord help me! Ya’ve thrown away yore brains.”

“Sunday… I’ve never had friends like you and Maude… and Polly. I can’t imagine what you thought when… you saw me.”

“Well… the first thing I thought was… phew! Then, after I got a look at you, I thought, if I could get a hold of the one who
done it, I’d cut his damn throat with a dull knife.”

“I was so scared that I think I went out of my head. I don’t remember much after you found me. I was in a fog. I couldn’t
think and didn’t want to.”

“I never saw anybody in such a lather as that Irishman you wed. He was red-hot, do-do-stompin’ mad.”

“T.C. said that no one knows what happened but those of us who were here.”

“Maude and I read the notes ya had in the pocket of yore dress. Somebody ‘round here don’t like ya much. I suppose ya told
Kilkenny who it is.”

“I don’t know who it is. But I told him why. Someday, maybe, I can tell you.”

Sunday got abruptly to her feet and went to the window.

“If ya was still wantin’ to leave here, I was goin’ to go with ya.”

“What’s happened, Sunday? Did something happen between you and Colin?”

Sunday spun around. “Nothin’ happened atween
me
and Colin. Plenty happened atween
him
and Mrs. Patrice Guzman Cabeza,” she said bitterly.

“My goodness! Don’t tell me that Colin would… that he… She’s married!”

“Shore she is, but she’s havin’
his
babe!” Sunday blurted the words and then burst into tears. She placed her bent arm against the wall and hid her face against
it

“Oh, no!” Jane went to her and put her hand on her back. “Who told you that?”

“She did.”

“And you believe her?”

“Why not? She’s a snooty bitch, but she ort to know who’s been atween her legs.”

“Why would she run away from her husband? Won’t he think the baby’s his?”

“She says he ain’t got nothin’ in his balls to make a babe and he’d know it ain’t his.”

“Land o’ livin’. Why did she tell you
that?”

“Paralee and Bessie is spreadin’ the story all over town. So I asked her. She said Colin’s the papa.”

“You like him a lot, don’t you?”

“I did! Now I hate his rotten guts.” Sunday ended her words with a wail. “It makes me so damn mad that I was fooled by a bird-turd
like him!”

“I was sure that he was smitten with you. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you the day we buried Doc.”

“He honeyed up to me. And me bein’ dumb as a stump I got all starry-eyed. But he ain’t the only man in this town. There’s
others been givin’ me the once-over. I’ll go find me one and marry him.”

“Don’t do something hasty you’ll regret,” Jane warned. “From what I’ve seen of Colin, I’m sure he’s an honorable man. I can’t
believe he’d carry on with another man’s wife.”

“Ha! All men is pretty proud a what they got in their britches. The other night he hinted for me to invite him to my bed,
and I told him plain out that without his name tacked onto the end of mine, he’d not sleep with me.” Sunday bent over and
wiped her eyes on the hem of her dress. “At the time I thought he was funnin’, but I guess he wasn’t.”

“Why don’t you wait and see what Colin has to say. I don’t think I’d take Mrs. Cabeza’s word.”

“I sure ain’t goin’ to ask him!”

“Ask who what?”

Jane and Sunday turned to see T.C. in the doorway.

“You’re so quiet. I didn’t hear you.” Jane’s eyes shone
as
she watched him walk toward her.

“It’s my Indian blood, honey. It helps me sneak up on helpless females.” He put his hand possessively on her shoulder. “Hello,
Sunday. I saw you come in. We missed you last night at the wedding supper.”

“Well, I was busy sewin’ ruffles on my ball gown gettin’ it ready for the big hoopla.” She tossed her blond head and stared
at him defiantly as if daring him to contradict her.

“Do you think you could squeeze out the time to help dress up the town?”

“What for? It ain’t the Fourth of July.”

“The first stage coach will arrive in a few days”

“—That’s good. When does it leave? I’ll be on it.”

“Oh, Sunday—” Jane murmured sadly.

T.C. ignored Sunday’s remark about leaving.

“I was thinking we could get a bolt of red cloth and stretch it across the street in front of the hotel where the stage will
stop. Honey,” he said to Jane, “do you think you could make us some welcome signs?”