The Listening Sky (38 page)

E
XCITEMENT
was in the air.

In less than six hours the stage would arrive and the celebration would begin. It was a beautiful fall day; the sky was cloudless,
and the sun was warm.

T.C. and Jeb stood back and admired the sign they had nailed above the door of the new addition to the hotel that would serve
as the stage office:
ROWE STAGE LINE
.

“Looks as good as if it’d come from Denver. Miss Jane should go into business.” Jeb wasn’t one to pass out compliments, and
T.C. was pleased.

“I’m not sure she wants to make it a business, but she’s willing to do what she can until a real sign painter shows up.”

A wagon came down the street with a load of firewood and T.C. walked out to speak to the driver.

“Pile it over there on the side of the street. Be sure to leave room for the stage to get through. We’ll have two bonfires
tonight a couple hundred feet apart, one here and the other one down in front of that vacant spot. They’ll furnish light and
heat. It’ll be cold once the sun goes down.”

“Hope we don’t burn down the town,” Jeb said as the wagon moved away.

“I thought of that. I’ll have a man at each fire.”

Red cloth had been stretched above the street. Strips of the red wound around the porch posts of the hotel. Streamers hung
from the porches of some of the businesses. Signs in the windows said:
WELCOME
.

The mill had closed for the day, and lumberjacks from the cutting camps were coming into town by the wagonload as were settlers
from around the area. People roamed up and down the street and into the stores. Children played, dogs barked, and men waited
on the porch of the barbershop to take a bath or get a haircut. Mrs. Winters had pans of bear claws and fried pies set on
the counter to be sold.

Jenson was doing a thriving business at the store. He had brought out two Roman candles to set off when the stage arrived.
As it would not be dark enough at sundown to get the full effect, it was decided that he would fire them when the dance began.

At Kilkenny’s house there was much discussion about what to wear. Maude insisted that it didn’t matter in the least what she
wore, but she wanted Polly and Stella to look pretty. Not only had she washed and ironed their best dresses but she had even
run the iron over the yards and yards of ribbon Herb had bought at the store and proudly presented for them to wear in their
hair.

Jane had not planned to go to the dance until Sunday declared that she would stay at home with her. Knowing that T.C. would
have to be there and that he wouldn’t allow her to stay at home alone, she decided that she would go so that Sunday would.

“Sweetheart, I’ll be there. Herb will keep an eye on you and I’m sure Tennihill will too. Don’t you want to hear Sunday play
the fiddle?’

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“I want to dance with my wife—”

“No! I’ve never danced in my life. I’d make a fool of myself before all those people.”

“I’ll teach you.”

“Please don’t make me.”

“All right, honey. I’ll never make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I want Sunday to have a good time. She’s not mentioned Colin one time.”

“He’ll be back soon. They must solve their own problems without interference from us.”

“I know that. It’s just that I’m so happy and she’s so sad.”

A light rap sounded on the door, then it opened. Patrice, Paralee and Bessie walked into the house.

“Do come in,” T.C. said sarcastically.

“It’s an office, isn’t it? I didn’t know you had to be invited into a business office,” Patrice said.

“It’s my home for the time being. What do you want, Patrice?”

“No greeting? No how are you, Señora Guzman Cabeza?

“What do you want? I know this isn’t a social call.”

Patrice’s eyes swept insolently over Jane.

“You’ve come down in the world, T.C. I can remember when your sights were set on a much… higher level.”

“I remember, too, when I was offered… favors from the so-called higher level and recognized that that
level
was nothing but trash. Say what you’ve got to say and get out. Take these two cadgers with you.”

Paralee bristled. “Cadgers? What’s that?”

“Just what I said. I gave both of you jobs. You’ve not put in two days work. Yet the company is paying for your keep and feeding
you. You’re
cadging
off the company.”

“I’m not working in the kitchen scrubbin’ pots for that old cook at the hotel. Patrice says you’re taking advantage of us.”

“Then Patrice can pay for your keep.”

“You owe me!” Bessie blurted and pointed a finger at Jane. “She splattered paint all over my new dress. If Patrice hadn’t
loaned me one, I couldn’t go to the dance.”

“She
didn’t splatter you. I did.” Sunday spoke from the office doorway.

Patrice turned cold eyes on Sunday, then back to T.C.

“Where’s Colin?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Is he at one of the timber camps?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“It isn’t like him to hide out. I suppose it was your idea.”

“Think what you want.”

“When is he coming back?”

“I don’t know that either.”

“I need to talk to him. We have to make plans. Ramon will show up here any time now, and we’ve got to be prepared. He told
you I’m having his child? Of course, he did. He’d not be able to keep the good news to himself.”

“He told me
you
were having one.”

“He can’t deny it’s his. I was with him in his hotel room in Santa Fe. The desk clerk gave me a key. I can prove I was there.”

“That’s between you and Ramon and Colin.”

Patrice’s dark eyes turned back to Sunday, surveyed her with distaste, then moved to Jane.

“Your taste in women hasn’t changed. You’ve always been attracted to the frowsy, loose types. But… you never
married
one before.”

Sunday moved swiftly and silently. Her hand flew out and struck Patrice a solid smack on the cheek.

“You’re” as
loose as a goose in a berry patch—braggin’ ya spread yore legs for a man not yore husband. What ya
think
’bout me ‘mounts to no more’n a chicken fart in a snow storm. What ya
say
about Jane could get yore ass up ‘tween yore ears.”

Patrice looked stunned. Her mouth opened to take in a gulp of air. Bessie and Paralee stepped back toward the door.

“What are… you standing there for” Patrice’s angry eyes fastened on T.C. “Are you going to stand for this?”

T.C. shrugged. “If you’re so outraged and you want something done, do it. Hit her back. But let me warn you: should you decide
to do so, I’ll not interfere, and she’ll be all over you like a swarm of angry hornets.” T.C. was unable to keep the grin
off his face.

“It’s just what I’d expect from you. I told Colin you’d revert to where you came from.”

“And where was that?” T.C.’s voice had lost is amusement and was deathly quiet.

Realizing she was on dangerous ground, Patrice backed toward the door.

“Tell Colin I’ve had news from Ramon and need to see him immediately.”

One of the three women slammed the door when they left.

“I’m tempted to hug you,” T.C. said to Sunday and laughed.

“She’s a bitch!”

“Always has been. But forget her. With luck she’ll be gone soon.” He turned to Jane. “I’m going to take five or six men and
ride out to meet the stage. Herb will be here, and I’ll tell Tennihill to keep his eye on the house. Stay in until I get back.”

“Go on and do what you have to do. Don’t worry. Sunday and I can handle most things.” Jane looked at her friend and burst
out laughing. “Sunday can, for sure. I don’t know who was more surprised, Mrs. Cabeza or me.”

An hour before the stage was due the four women and Stella put on shawls and went out to the porch to wait for the big event.
Herb lounged against the wall of the cookhouse across the street where he had a clear view of the house. Polly, wearing a
new warm shawl and a blue ribbon in her hair, left the porch to stand beside him.

The narrow street was cleared of wagons. Horses were moved to hitching posts between and behind the buildings and horse dung
was shoveled into wheelbarrows and taken away. People sat on porches or walked along the boardwalk fronting the buildings.

When the signal shots were fired by the outriders, people scrambled off the street, and all eyes turned to the south end of
town. It seemed forever until, after a second volley of shots sounded, they heard the steady sound of steel-rimmed wheels
and iron-shod hooves. Minutes later the wildly racing team came into view and the booming voice of the driver reached them.

“H’yaw! H’yaw! Move, ya worthless, dang-busted, mangy buzzard bait! Hightail it on in thar, ya lazy sonsabitches! H’yaw! Get
to foggin’ it, ya draggletails!”

The whip sailed out over the backs of the steaming team. Insults continued to spew from the mouth of the driver in the box
of the swaying coach as he whipped the horses into a full gallop and they raced toward the narrow street of the town. Two
of the escorts rode in front of the stage. The two on the sides fell back as they entered the street.

The driver continued to express his displeasure with the team as it sped into town by issuing a stream of obscenities, even
while he tramped on the brake as he neared the hotel. The coach rocked as the split reins curbed the horses to bring them
to a standstill in front of the new stage station.

“Tim… ber… town!” the driver shouted.

A cheer went up.

The burly man swung easily down from his box, opened the door and waited to help two women and two small children take the
long step to the ground. Two men followed them down. One stood looking around, slightly dazed. The other, a fashionably dressed
portly man, reached up to get his satchel from the top of the coach and walked toward the hotel.

T.C. left his horse with one of the riders and, removing his hat, greeted the newcomers.

“Welcome to Timbertown. I’m T.C. Kilkenny.”

The two women offered their hands.

“We’re from Trinity. Mr. Rowe sent us.”

“To run the eatery. It’s ready for you. If the two of you can use the rooms in the back as your quarters for a day or two,
we’ll see about other arrangements if you wish.” T.C. looked around in the crowd for Jeb, and, spotting him, called out, “Jeb,
take the ladies down to the cookhouse.”

From the top of the coach the driver handed down trunks and boxes.

“Welcome to Timbertown.”

T.C. held out his hand to the passenger who waited beside the coach.

“Thank you, sir. Dr. Walter Bate.”

“We’ve been expecting you.”

“I didn’t realize I would be making the first run. It was rather a wild ride.”

“He made quite an entrance, didn’t he?”

Dr. Bate’s well-groomed beard was generously sprinkled with gray, as was the dark hair at his temples. He was thin and narrowly
built. Garrick Rowe had written that he was a well-respected doctor in Chicago, but because of a tragedy in his family, he
wished to move to a new location. He would purchase Doc Foote’s equipment to furnish a new office.

“Your rooms above the store are ready, but they will be cold tonight, so I suggest you take a room at the hotel. Come to the
dance tonight and meet the townsfolk.”

“I’m not much for dancing.”

“Tell you the truth, I’m not either. But what’s a celebration without a dance?”

Timbertown would be a layover stop for the stage. The steaming team and the coach were led away, and willing hands brought
out shovels to clean up fresh manure piles and rakes to smooth the earth where the dance was to be held.

It was almost dark and time for the dance when T.C. hurried down the street to his house. He had been to the saloon and had
talked with Parker. Because quite a few rowdies were in town, Parker had hired Murphy and another man to help keep order.
Tennihill was around, and T.C. was convinced that the man’s sharp eyes missed nothing.

Supper was served earlier than usual. When it was over, all changed into their best clothes and made ready to go out onto
the street. Jane walked between T.C. and Sunday. Maude and Stella walked behind them, followed by Polly and Herb.

Jane had never been more proud in all her life. She strolled beside her husband, her hand tucked firmly in the crook of his
arm. Men tipped their hats; women smiled. Buddy Winters ran ahead of them, then turned and walked backward to show her the
small flag in his hand.

“Is your mother coming to the dance?” Jane asked.

“She ain’t. She’s got to cook and get us some money. Mr. Jenson’s got fireworks.” He darted away.

Jane was almost as excited as Buddy. She felt gloriously alive and happy. It was a strange and wonderful feeling to know that
she belonged to this tall man beside her and that he knew all there was to know about her and still loved her. Nothing could
put a blight on her happiness, not even that unknown person who could be watching her, hating her.

Along the street, two large bonfires burned brightly, radiating both heat and light. A dozen or more lanterns hung on porches
and on ropes stretched around the dance area.

As soon as Mr. Jenson thought it dark enough for full appreciation of the firework display, he came out of the store and set
the rockets up in the middle of the street. When the first one went up with a loud ZZZBOOM, the crowd cheered. Bright sparks
of light showered down from high in the sky. The second rocket went off even higher than the first one.

T.C. left Jane and Sunday standing beside the hotel porch and went inside. He returned a minute later with a fiddle and bow
and handed them to Sunday.

“Play for us.”

Sunday smiled. “I’ve never seen a fiddle this grand.” She plucked the strings, then tucked the instrument under her chin and
made a few strokes with the bow.

“Hold it, Jane, while I take off my coat.”

Jane doubted that there was a bashful bone in Sunday’s body. Totally at ease and delighted to be playing a fine violin, Sunday
stepped out into the street and began to play “Beautiful Dreamer.” The music had an unearthly quality like the wind. It settled
into every crevice along the street, and folks stopped to listen. It was a song of love and pain, sorrow and joy. Some folks
had never heard such music.