Vows (14 page)

 
Charles had no sympathy. "Good for her. You probably deserved it."

 
They laughed again, then fell into companionable silence.

 
Odd, Jeffcoat thought, how you could meet some people and feel an instant aversion, meet others and feel like an empty spot inside you is about to be filled. That's how Bliss made him feel.

"Listen"–Charles interrupted Tom's thoughts—"I know Emily wasn't exactly cordial to you when you came into town, but—"

 
"Cordial? She ordered me out. She came over to my lot and stomped along beside the grader and called me names."

 
"I'm sorry, Tom, but she's got a lot on her mind. She's really devoted to her father, and she spends nearly as much time in the livery stable as he does. It's natural that she'd be defensive about it. But it isn't just the livery stable. Things around her house are pretty grim right now. You see, her mother is dying of consumption."

 
A faint thread of remorse spiraled through Jeffcoat. Consumption was incurable, and not pretty to watch, especially near the end. For the first time, Jeffcoat softened toward the tomboy. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know."

 
"Of course you didn't. It's getting bad now. I have a feeling Mrs. Walcott is failing fast. It was another reason I wanted Emily to finally say yes to me. Because I think her mother will die a little more peacefully knowing Emily will be safely married to me."

 
"The Walcotts were happy about the news then?"

 
"Oh, yes, and Fannie, too. I haven't told you about Fannie." He explained about Mrs. Walcott's cousin having arrived from Massachusetts to help out the family. "Fannie is remarkable," he ended. "Wait till you meet her."

 
"I probably won't. Not as long as she lives in your fiancée's house."

 
"Oh, yes you will. Somehow we'll all be friends. I know we will."

 
They rode in thoughtful silence for some time before Tom inquired, "How old are you?"

 
"Twenty-one."

 
Twenty-one!" Tom straightened and studied Bliss's profile. "Is that all?" He looked older; undoubtedly it was the beard. And he certainly acted older. "You know, in some ways I envy you. Only twenty-one and already you know what you want out of life. I mean, you left your family and came out here to settle. You have your trade, and a home, and you've picked out a woman." Tom ruminated momentarily, studying the tip of a mountain ridge shrouded in haze. "I'm twenty-six and mostly I know what I
don't
want."

 
"For instance?"

 
Tom dropped a sideward glance at Bliss. "Well, a woman for starters."

 
"Every man wants a woman."

 
"Maybe I should say a wife, then."

 
"You don't
want
to get married?" Charles sounded astonished.

 
A cynical expression settled on Tom's face as he spoke. "A year ago I became engaged to a woman, a woman I'd known for years. Next Saturday she's going to marry another man. You'll pardon me if I don't think too highly of the fairer sex right now."

 
Charles looked appropriately sympathetic and breathed, "Damn, that's tough."

 
In a hard voice Jeffcoat observed, "Women are fickle."

 
"Not all of them."

 
"You're besotted right now; naturally you'd say that"

 
"Well, Emily isn't."

 
"I thought the same about Julia." Jeffcoat gave a rueful chuckle, staring straight ahead. "I thought I had her signed, sealed, and delivered until she walked into the blacksmith shop one afternoon and announced that she was breaking our engagement to marry a banker named Jonas Hanson, a man fifteen years older than her."

 
"A banker?"

 
"You guessed it. Inherited money … lots of inherited money."

 
Charles digested the news, eyeing Tom covertly while Tom stared pensively at the horses' rumps. For a while neither of them spoke, then Tom sighed heavily and leaned back. "Well, I guess it was better that I found out beforehand."

 
"That's why you came here then? To get away from Julia?"

 
Tom glanced at Charles and forced a lazy grin. "I wasn't sure I wouldn't break into her bedroom one night and toss old moneybags onto the floor and jump into bed in his place."

 
Bliss laughed and scratched his bearded cheek, admitting, "To tell you the truth, I've spent some time lately thinking about bedrooms myself."

 
Surprised, Jeffcoat peered askance at his new friend. How could a man get spoony over a girl who dressed like a blacksmith, smelled like horses, and wanted to be a veterinarian? Curiosity prompted his next question.

 
"Does
she
?"

 
Bliss glanced at him calmly. "Does she what?"

 
"Think about bedrooms?"

 
"Unfortunately, no. Did your Julia?"

 
"Sometimes I think she was tempted but I never got beyond her corset stays."

 
"Emily doesn't wear a corset."

 
"I'm not surprised. Course, she wouldn't need one with that stiff leather apron."

 
They laughed together yet again, then rode for some minutes in silence. At length Tom commented, "If this isn't the damnedest conversation. I had friends back in Springfield I couldn't talk this easy with, friends I'd known for years."

 
"I know what you mean. I never talked about things like this with anyone. As a matter of fact, I'm not sure a gentleman should."

 
"Maybe not, but here we are, and I don't know about you, but I've always considered myself a gentleman."

 
"Me, too," Charles agreed.

 
They rode in silence for several minutes before Charles added dubiously, "But do you feel a little guilty for talking behind the girls' backs?"

 
"I probably would if I were still engaged to Julia. Do you?"

 
Charles studied the clouds and said, "Well, let's put it this way … I wouldn't want Emily to find out what I said. But on the other hand, it feels good to know other men go through the same thing when they're engaged."

 
"Don't worry. She'll never find out from me. If you want to know the truth, that woman of yours scares me a little. She's a regular hellcat and I don't want to tangle with her any more than I have to. But one thing's for sure—life should never be dull with a woman like that."

 
When they reached the Pinery, Charles introduced Tom as "my new friend, Tom Jeffcoat," and indeed it became true. Throughout the remainder of that day, and those that followed, while the two men worked side by side, the spontaneity between them began to grow into a strong bond of friendship.

 
Right from the first, Charles did all he could to smooth the way for Jeffcoat in the new town, amid new people. At the Pinery he joshed the owner, Andrew Stubbs, and his son, Mick, into giving Tom a more than fair price on his lumber. In town he took him personally into J. D. Loucks's store and introduced him to the locals while Tom bought nails. Together they began constructing the framework of Tom's livery barn, and when the skeleton walls and roof joists lay stretched out on the earth, Charles took a walk down Main Street and came back with nine hearty townsmen to help raise them. He brought Will Haberkorn, the local butcher, and his son, Patrick, both still wearing their stained white aprons. With the Haberkorns came Sherman Fields, Tarsy's father, a congenial and dapper man with center-parted hair and a waxed handlebar mustache. There were Pervis Berryman and his son, Jerome, who bought and sold hides, and made boots and trunks. Charles also brought the stocky Polish cabinetmaker, Joseph Zollinski, whom Tom recognized from church. J. D. Loucks came with the hotel owner, Helstrom, who said to his tenant, "You support me, I support you." And Edwin Walcott, in a true show of welcome, walked over from across the street. Charles introduced Tom to those he hadn't already met and arranged a fast, sincere welcome in the form of the wall-raising.

 
Loucks had brought new rope from his store, and within minutes after the group convened, muscles strained in the June sun. By the end of the day the skeleton of the building stood silhouetted against the evening sky.

 
"I don't know how to thank you," Tom told Charles when everyone else had gone and they were left together, gazing up at the sharp angles of the roof.

 
"Friends don't need thanks," Charles replied simply.

 
But Tom clapped his friend's shoulder just the same. "This friend does."

 
As they began picking up their tools Charles said, "Fannie insists on throwing an engagement party for Emily and me this Saturday night. It might be just what you need to forget about that wedding back East. Will you come?"

 
Tom considered declining, in deference to Miss Walcott. But nights got long and lonely, and he was anxious to socialize with the young people he'd met, many of whom would be his future customers. More importantly, it was Charles's party, too, and Charles was his friend. He
wanted
to go, whether it was to the tomboy's house, or not.

 
He put a wry twist on his lips and inquired, "Will Tarsy Fields be there?"

 
Charles shot him a man-to-man grin. "Oh, Tarsy, is it?"

 
Tom turned his attention to closing a nail keg for the night. "Sometimes a man gets a message from a girl the minute they meet. I think I got one from Tarsy."

 
"She's easy on the eye."

 
"I thought so."

 
"And entertaining."

 
"She seems to be."

 
"And empty-headed as that nail keg is going to be when we're done building this barn."

 
Jeffcoat laughed freely, slapped Bliss on the shoulder, and declared robustly, "Damn, but I like you, Bliss!"

 
"Enough to come on Saturday night?"

 
"Of course," Tom agreed, hoping he and Emily Walcott could remain civil to one another.

* * *

The following day Tom and Charles began enclosing the roof and sides of the livery barn, but the next day they gave to the church, which was in a similar stage of development. It was that, more than anything, which earned Tom Jeffcoat the full approval of the town's matrons. With a building of his own only half-done, they gossiped on the boardwalks, that young man gave his full day to help erect the new church. Now,
there
was an example for their young boys to follow!

 
One young boy took to following everything that was going on at the new lot on Grinnell Street. Frankie Walcott showed up the first morning, drawn by his idol Charles, only to find before day's end that he had
two
idols. They put him to work, and he worked willingly, carrying, measuring, even hammering. When they went to church to offer their day's labor, Frankie went along. When Frankie went along, so did his fat friend Earl Rausch. Earl had an unmanageable sweet tooth and spent much of his time filching doughnuts and cookies sent along with the workers by their wives. But Earl's idol was Frankie, and what Frankie did. Earl did. He brought the men drinks in the dipper and ran errands and straightened bent nails. When the town matrons learned that Frankie and Earl had volunteered their time to help at the church, they signed up their own sons to do likewise.

* * *

Frankie Walcott was having the time of his life. Things had never been so lively around Sheridan. All day long he could be with Charles and the new guy, Tom. He liked Tom. Tom grinned a lot, and teased, and his livery barn was really going to be something.

 
At suppertime he chattered constantly about the building going up on Grinnell Street.

 
"Tom brought windows clear from Rock Springs—twenty-four of 'em! And he's gonna put in a floor made of real bricks! He already ordered 'em down in Buffalo!"

 
Emily refused to glance up or to acknowledge Frankie's exuberance.

 
"But guess what else he brought? This … this thing. This turntable, and he's gonna put it in the middle of the floor so it'll turn the wagons around and head 'em back out the door just as easy as I can turn around. He brought it clear from Springfield on the train and from Rock Springs to here on his wagon. Tom says back East all the roundhouses have turntables and he says they use 'em to turn the trains around."

 
"Why, that's the silliest thing I ever heard of!" spouted Emily, unable to hold her tongue any longer. "Back East where it's crowded they need turntables. Out here in the wide open spaces it's nothing but a waste."