The Listening Sky (6 page)

“You… you… horse’s ass—”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“I’m not finished,
sir!
You’re a conniving, sneaky, stony-hearted, slimy toad!”

“Well… that’s different. I really didn’t mind being called a horse’s ass.”

Jane was too angry to see the glint of amusement in his eyes or the twitching at the corners of his mouth. Between the fringe
of heavy dark lashes her smoke-blue eyes glowered at him like those of a small spitting cat.

“You may have the rest of these women fooled, Mister Conniver, but not me! You don’t have jobs for us. You cooked up this
scheme to get us here for the sole purpose of servicing your timber beasts so they’d be content to stay here and work in your
damned old lumber mill.”

T.C. folded his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels.

“Miss Lovey—”

“Love. My name is L-O-V-E.”

“Miss Love, if and when I hire whores to service my men they will be good-looking, full-bodied women.” His eyes flicked over
her slim figure. She wanted to hit him.

You’d know about that… I’m sure.” The sarcasm in Jane’s voice seemed to irritate him.

“You’re damn right I would. The women over there”—he jerked his head toward the barracks building—”with the exception of a
couple of them, look about as much like whores as I do a preacher.”

“Oh, I’m certain you’ll have one of those handy too. You’ll tidy it all up with weddings. Count me out! Polly, too! I’ll not
marry one of your bully boys in order to have a roof over my head.”

“You’ll not be
forced
to marry anyone,” he said angrily.

“I realize we’ll not be
forced.
We’ll just twiddle our thumbs doing mundane work until we get so bored and sick of that barracks that we take one of the
men to get out of it.”

She had come so close to the truth that T.C. felt a flash of momentary guilt. It made him say something he instantly regretted.

“I don’t think you need worry the men will beat a path to your door, Miss… Pickle.”

Standing in the doorway, Herb took a deep breath and shook his head with dismay. What in holy hell had gotten into T.C.? He
could hardly believe what he was hearing. In all the years he had known the man he had never heard him be rude to a woman.
In fact he was overly shy around them.

“That will suit me just fine, Mr. Kilkenny. When I marry it will be to a man whose intelligence equals mine. I’m quite sure
that I would not be overwhelmed with choices here in your precious town.”

T.C. had a difficult time keeping the grin off his face.

“Face the facts. You’re stuck here, Miss Pickle.”

“You are an obnoxious man, Mr. Kilkenny,” Jane said bitterly with lips so tight they barely moved.

There was no way he could hold back the grin that spread around his wide mouth and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Miss Love, I’ll try to forget you said that. I suggest that you make the best of things… for now.”

Jane was so angry that she could hardly tamp down the urge to fling the wet cloth she clutched in her hands as she watched
him walk to the door. Before he closed it behind him, he turned.

“I’ll speak to you later.”

Polly was crying softly. Jane pulled up a chair and sat down beside her.

“What’ll I do, Miss Love?”

Jane pushed her own personal anguish to the back of her mind and tried to give her attention to the young girl.

“Call me Jane, Polly. You’ll be all right. I don’t have enough money to pay him for both our fares and then pay our way back
to Denver.”

“How did you know… about me?”

“I guessed. You can’t wear that corset, Polly. It will kill you… and the baby.”

“I don’t care. I don’t know how I can take care of it anyway.”

“There’s always a way. Did the father not want to marry you?”

“You know I’m not married?”

“I guessed that too.”

“I’m… so ashamed—”

“We all do things we regret. Some mistakes have more devastating effects than others.”

“I was so scared. I had to let him—”

Polly’s story came out in bits and pieces. Her mother had died when she was ten. At age twelve she was left by her father
at a rooming house in Laramie; he never returned. The landlord and his wife had been kind to her. She stayed with them for
three years and worked for her keep. She earned a few dollars each month working for a seamstress. When the landlord died,
his wife sold the rooming house and went to live with her daughter.

The new owner was not as selective with his boarders as her former employers had been. One night she awoke to find one of
the men in her room, a teamster who hauled freight out to the fort. He told her that if she refused his advances, he’d spread
it all over town that she was a whore, then set her up in a shack and bring in soldiers, scouts and wagoneers for her to service.
Frightened half out of her mind, Polly endured the painful experience twice a week until her monthy flow failed to arrive.

She waited a few weeks, then, desperate to get away before it was discovered she was pregnant and unwed, she took the few
dollars she had saved from her meager earnings and hid away in another rooming house. She had only sixteen cents to her name
when she boarded the train to come to Timbertown.

Jane held onto the girl’s hand. Once she had started, Polly couldn’t seem to stop talking.

“What’ll happen to the poor little mite? ‘Twasn’t his fault.” Tears from Polly’s eyes wet the pillow she lay on.

“It wasn’t yours either, Polly. You’re young and pretty. Someday you may meet a man who will want you and your child.”

“No! No! I ain’t never goin’ to marry an’ have to do
that
again. Never!”

While listening to Polly’s story, Jane had been aware of voices coming from the room across the hall. Theda Cruise, the woman
with the flaming red hair, musical laughter, and soft seductive voice, was leaving. It was too much of a temptation not to
listen.

“I just knew we’d get along like a house afire, T.C.”

So did I
, Jane thought.
You’re just his type
.

“We’ve got to work on the hotel before we can work on the other saloon. Butyou’ll be in business before the snow flies.”

He’s
pleased now. He’s getting his whorehouse.

“Everything I need is down at Rock Springs, including sixteen barrels of the best whiskey in the territory.”

Whorehouse and saloon. That should bring families to town!

“Freighters will be here today or tomorrow. You can talk to them. They should be glad for the work.”

“I run a good place. If I bring women in it will be to sing and dance, wait tables and socialize with the customers. Whores
are nothing but trouble in a saloon.” Theda’s laugh rang out. “If you want a brothel, build me a house. Every town needs a
bit o’ bawdy,” she said with a heavy Irish accent. “We could go partners, T.C.”

“No, thanks. I’ve got enough to do. I’ll speak to Parker at the Pleasure Palace about your helping out until you can get your
own place. He’s got a couple of rooms upstairs. You can use one of them.”

“I’m glad of that. I don’t think I can stand another day in that bunkhouse with those boring women.”

You’re not the only one who’s glad.
Jane’s lower lip was firmly caught between her teeth.

“Why did you come here pretending to be looking for work, Theda?”

“I wanted to look the place over first. You, too, T.C. If I hitch my wagon to a star I have to know where it’s going”

“Welcome to Timbertown.”

“I
feel much better now.”

Jane helped Polly stand and remove her corset

“It isn’t anyone’s business that you’ve not been married, Polly. The less said about it the better.”

“But… what’ll I say if someone asks me?”

“Say the baby’s father was a soldier and let them draw their own conclusions.”

“But he… wasn’t.”

“He might have been at one time.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I wager that half the people who came here have things in their pasts that they would like to bury. You can start a new life
here. When your baby comes, you’ll have someone of your very own to care for.”

“But… it’ll be a… bastard. Folks’ll look down on it and… me.”

Oh, Lord! This conversation was bringing back a flood of memories. Jane saw herself, a ten-year-old girl, sitting on a blanket
under a tree. Both she and her Aunt Alice were crying.

“Not if they don’t know it.” Jane gathered herself and shoved the memories aside. “Bastard is just a word. The parents of
many great men in history were not legally wed.”

“Really? Who?”

“Alexander Hamilton’s parents were not married when he was born. His mother was married to someone else.”

“Who’s her?”

A knock sounded and saved Jane the trouble of explaining to the young girl, who more than likely had never read a history
book. The door opened before Jane could get to her feet.

“Your turn, Miss Love,” Kilkenny said crisply.

Herb stepped around T.C. and took a hesitant step into the room.

“Miss Polly, ya need a fresh drink of water or… something’?” Herb had a concerned look on his boyish face.

Polly’s face turned a rosy pink when she realized he was speaking to her. Looking down at the hands in her lap, she shook
her head.

“This won’t take long.” Jane placed her hand on Polly’s shoulder as she passed her. On the way to the door she poked at the
pins holding the coil of hair at the nape of her neck, more out of habit than necessity.

T.C. stood aside and allowed Jane to walk ahead of him into the room. She was slim to the point of fragility; but the set
of her shoulders, the candor in her eyes, and the way she carried herself all showed strength. She was trim and neat and held
herself as straight as a tree trunk.

He moved around behind his table and openly studied her face. For the first time he noticed a few freckles on her nose. Her
huge wide-spaced, smoke-blue eyes refused to look away from his. This was no empty-headed woman, but a strong-willed, determined
one.

He swallowed the chuckles that rumbled in his chest. He’d had to think fast when she demanded to be taken back to catch the
train to Denver, and he was quite sure he had persuaded her she had to stay.

“Sit down, Miss Love.”

“I’ll stand. What I have to say won’t take long—”

T.C. walked over and closed the door. “Sit down,” he said again. “I was taught not to sit while a lady was standing.”

“Very well.” Jane perched on the edge of the chair. “As I said before, I’ve changed my mind about staying and working in Timbertown.
I’ll pay you for the train fare from Denver and my fare back to the stage station. From there I should be able to get a ride
to the train stop.”

T.C. leaned back in his chair and gave her a thin smile that was very close to a sneer.

Damn! He had congratulated himself too soon.

“No guts for the rough life, huh?”

Jane ignored the sarcasm. “I want to leave as soon as possible.”

“Are you taking
Miss
Wright with you?”

“No.
Mrs.
Wright is a seamstress. She’s perfectly capable of sewing shirts for your store right up to the time she gives birth, then
shortly after. She’ll earn her keep.”

“And when her time comes?” He lifted his dark brows.

“In a town this size any number of women must have helped birth a baby. You may as well know now that she isn’t interested
in marrying one of your loggers.” Jane felt compelled for Polly’s sake to set him straight on that.

“I’d think that would be her main interest… at the moment.”

“Well, it isn’t Her
experience
with a man was far from pleasant”

As the import of her words sank into his mind, his face hardened.

“Son of a bitch!”

“My sentiments exactly.”

“Did you know her before?”

“I met her in Laramie. We roomed together at the hotel before boarding the train.”

“—And you took her under your wing?”

“Do you find fault with that?”

“Not at all. The strong should help the weak.”

“You said the wagons from the stage station would be here today,” Jane said, changing the subject. “I’d like to go back with
them.”

“They won’t be going back.”

“Can I hire a buggy?”

“You’re in an awful yank to leave here.”

“Yes. This… Timbertown is not what I expected.”

“What was that?”

“A town where I could work, earn my living, make friends and have a decent place to live.”

“All of that is here. What did you expect of a frontier town?” She made no reply and T.C. looked down at the paper before
him. “Have you been married?”

“No! Do you think I lied on my application?”

“What have you got against the… state of wedlock?”

“My personal feelings are not your concern.” Jane stood.

“Sit down, Miss Love. Within a month a schoolhouse with rooms in the back for a teacher will be completed. There are fifteen
children in town under the age of twelve — “

“No.”

“No? It says here you’ve taught classes one through six.”

“I have. But that doesn’t mean I want to teach here.” Jane’s hand sought her pocket. Her fingers closed around the note:
yu can’t hide.
How long would she last as a teacher if she were exposed? The humiliation would be more than she could bear. Her heart pounded
with fear, but her expression did not change.

T.C. got to his feet “You won’t change your mind?”

“No.” She stood ramrod straight, chin tilted so that she could look up at him. Her eyes locked with his.

“Well, it’s best to find out right off that you’re too soft to live here. I’ll get you back to the stage station in a day
or two.”

“Thank you.”

After she closed the door behind her, T.C. sat down and picked up the report written by his solicitor.
Jane Love, age 23, unmarried, no close kin.
Twenty-three? Why hadn’t she married? A woman at that age was usually married, unless she was ugly as sin. That wasn’t the
case with this one. She must have had numerous opportunities. He quickly scanned the summary of her abilities, then reviewed
the personal remarks made by the interviewer.