The Wanderer

by Jan Irving

  The Wanderer

  Jan Irving

  The Wanderer

  Copyright © September 2010 by Jan Irving

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  eISBN 978-1-60737-852-5

  Editor: Judith David

  Cover Artist: Christine M. Griffin Printed in the United States of America

  Published by

  Loose Id LLC

  PO Box 425960

  San Francisco CA 94142-5960 www.loose-id.com

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id LLCs e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  * * *

  DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/fetish titles without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id LLC nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.

  Dedication

  With thanks to my editor Judi, and Jambrea Jo Jones, and also to my Yahoo! group for encouragement to write this story. Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.

  ~ Lao Tzu

  Chapter One

  Sylvan, 1879 Mouse scrambled over the tailors roof, his head cocked as he felt the vibrations of a horse and…pack mule. Maybe a miner come to town? Saddlebags rattled with the sound of rock rubbing against rock. The rider was as skilled as one of the vaqueros and riding a spirited horse from the sound of it.

  Mouse could feel the sun warm on his face, but he couldnt see nothing. That didnt stop him from climbing around town and sitting somewhere to listen. The general store was a hundred and twenty-nine steps from the Chinese laundry, and there were two nails and one wobbly plank that Mouse knew to avoid in the stretch between.

  He swung down to the porch and crouched so his small body was braced by the rungs. It felt good, almost like he was leaning against someone.

  “Mouse!” He raised his head when he heard Doc Jude calling for him.

  “Yes, sir?”

  Doc Judes tired steps creaked closer. Clump, clump, clump…CLUMP. He felt the sun dim on his face and knew the doctor was standing over him, blocking some of the fierce warmth.

  Doc Jude had been out all night. Mouse hoped the baby had made it and hadnt been born with a small twin brother like Mouse had. Mouses twin had been dead inside his mother. If Doc Jude hadnt been around, Mouse figured he wouldnt have made it either.

  “What are you doing, Mouse?”

  “Listening.”

  “Listening, huh?” Doc Jude put a hand on Mouses skinny shoulder, and his voice softened. “Have you eaten?”

  Mouse shrugged. He could eat later—no matter how much he stuffed himself, he never seemed to grow taller and his eyes didnt work. Not that he really expected to be like everyone else, since Doc Jude had been honest with him; hed be blind all his days. But it would be nice to be big and strong. “Stranger just rode in.”

  “I see him. He is a large, impressive fellow.”

  “Whats he wearing?” Mouse only ever asked a handful of people he trusted to describe things. Most of the rough miners and cowhands and gunnies who went through Sylvan didnt want to be bothered with a blind little runt.

  But Doc Jude was different, of course.

  “Hes a colorful individual,” Doc Jude mused. “Poncho. Big Mexican spurs. He has a heavy brown beard and longish hair in need of a cut. Hes wearing a highcrowned hat that would be black if not for the dust.”

  Mouse smiled. “Wonder if hes somebody famous…like Wild Bill.”

  “Come for supper now, Mouse,” Doc Jude scolded. He and a few others in town tried to make sure Mouse always had a bed and a hot meal once a day, though Mouse liked to spend most of his time on his own.

  It was better to not get too close to anyone, but sometimes he didnt think he was the only misfit. People got quiet around Doc Jude. And even though there was nothing wrong with the doctors eyes, they didnt treat him quite like one of them. Hed heard Mrs. Baker tell the reverend that it was because Doc Jude was a reformer, always stirring things up.

  “Will you read to me from those dime novels?” Mouse asked wistfully. Doc Jude had a wonderful reading voice, the best in town, even better than the reverend. Probably it was because he spent so much time writing poetry in his study alone at night.

  Mouse didnt understand the doc doing that since the writing seemed to make him sad. Why, on a night recently, Mouse caught the scratch of his pen and then a muffled sound, like a suppressed sob.

  Now he caught the sound of a rattling cough.

  “The stranger who just rode in; hes sick.”

  He heard the creak of the railing spindles as Doc Jude leaned to take a closer look. “Yes, it sounds like more than the dust, poor man.”

  “Maybe hes in town to see you,” Mouse said. “Were you writing again?”

  Doc Jude cleared his throat. “I was memorizing poetry.”

  Mouse smiled. He liked the poems Doc Jude recited at Christmas and other fancy occasions. Sometimes Doc also read them to calm sick patients who couldnt rest. “Can I hear it?”

  He caught the sound of the doctor settling into the chair that faced the street and then Doc Judes voice, full of suppressed feeling.

  “„How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the level of every days most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. Elizabeth Barrett Browning.” Doc Jude finished softly.

  Mouse caught the sound of spurs ringing and thought maybe Doc Jude had grown quiet because the stranger had walked past them while he was reciting.

  “That was real nice,” Mouse praised.

  * * *

  “Excuse me, sir?” Gabriel Fontenot asked the gray-haired storekeeper politely. He read the mans face, sizing him up by experience and gut. Typical squint lines, pruned mouth, but creases in his cheeks that came from laughter. “Where might I find a shave and a bath?”

  “Ming will see you right. Hes got the last storefront at the end of town. Hell also wash and mend your clothing,” the shopkeeper said.

  “Thank you. I believe I shall partake of both of his services.” Gabriel left the store and took the reins of his horse, heading for the public stables. A gentleman saw to the care of his animals before his own needs. Lancelots coat was stiff with dust, the stallion thirsty since all he and the mule had been drinking the past two days was a mouthful of water from Gabriels hat.

  * * *

  “Would you mind if I didnt read to you tonight, Mouse?” Doc Jude asked after Mrs. Stevenson had served them both some hot stew. Mouse heard the creak of his chair as the doctor leaned back.

  “Did the baby live?” Mouse asked, though he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

  “No, Im afraid not.”

  “Im sorry, but maybe if it was gonna be a runt like me, it was better off,” Mouse said. He ate his ste
w quickly so he could have a serving of pie while it was still bubbling from sitting on top of the stove.

  Doc Judes voice frowned. “Never say that, Mouse. All life is precious, and I am so glad to have you.”

  Mouse felt his cheek cupped by the gentle touch of the doctor and ducked his head shyly. Doc Jude was about the only person who ever touched him other than his friend Shen Lei. It always made his throat tighten with a strange burning feeling. When he felt that way, he usually ran off to be by himself for a while.

  “Dont do any errands at the saloon tonight. I hear Smith is back in town,” the doctor warned. “Ive tried to talk to people about standing up to him but…”

  “Doc, do you think you should always be tellin folks whats right?”

  “Mouse?”

  “Its just…some people dont like it.” Mouse shifted, uneasy.

  “Its important for a man to speak his mind, Mouse, especially when he might be…apprehensive. How else can there be change?”

  Mouses shoulders twitched. “I dont think folks in town believe in change exactly. But dont worry about me. I can take care of myself, remember?”

  “Mouse, you set fire to David Smiths hat, and he is singularly lacking in a sense of humor. Hes said if he catches you, hell horsewhip you.”

  “Have to catch me first, dont he?” Mouse shoveled in more stew.

  * * *

  Gabriel leaned back in the big wooden basin as his attendant poured a bucket of water over his head. He sighed, remembering the large copper tub hed used as a boy, carried up to his room by his fathers servants.

  He didnt miss the South or his father, but he missed hot baths. “Where might I find something fine to drink?” he asked the Chinese man politely, meeting his amber brown, slanted eyes.

  “Lucky Dollar has some good bourbon. Just ask for it, sir.”

  “Do you have a room for the night?”

  “Yes, sir. My son, Shen Lei, he will show you the way.”

  Gabriel had noticed the boy with lowered eyes and a single fat braid bringing in more hot water. He looked part Indian and Chinese and had a voice like whispering leaves.

  Gabriel coughed, the steamy water making his lungs labor. He gripped the side of the tub and rode out the spasm. “I…would very much enjoy a smoke and a glass of good bourbon.” He leaned forward so the man could scrub his back.

  “I take your clothes now—” Shen Lei said.

  “Hold!” Gabriel reached out and clutched his gun belt and Peacemaker pistols, the only things hed come into town wearing that werent dusty, that were, in fact, freshly oiled, gleaming softly. “Now you can take the rest. I was told there was a doctor in this town?”

  “Yes, Doctor Jude.” He described the doctor while washing Gabriels back, and Gabriel closed his eyes, recognizing the man from his attendants description; hed seen the doctor standing next to a boy when hed ridden into town.

  Hed been reciting Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

  “I heard hes a good doctor,” Gabriel said.

  “Yes, sir. He sometimes asks me about Chinese remedies.” The man used a brush to scrub Gabriels hands, removing the ingrained dust. “He is not like the other men in this town. When Shen Lei got sick, he helped him, let him stay in his clinic.”

  * * *

  Mouse couldnt stay away from the Lucky Dollar, even knowing David Smith was in town. Not when the intriguing new stranger hed been shadowing from the roofs had gone in, spurs ringing softly. The boy sniffed, leaning his head against the staircase that led up to the rooms the ladies used for their customers, and he caught the scent of freshly applied bay rum and clean water coming from the man.

  He wondered if the stranger had gotten a haircut, or if he was someone famous from the dime novels Mouse was addicted to. Wouldnt that be exciting? Maybe he could learn more so he could share it with Doc Jude. Even if dime novels were something he read only for Mouses sake, Mouse knew it lifted some of the doctors loneliness to read to him. Not that he had to be lonely, but he was always turning down the ladies who wanted to invite him to picnics and such.

  Mrs. Stevenson said he was a dyed-in-the-wool bachelor, whatever that meant. Except that Mouse thought maybe it meant Doc Jude would be alone all his days and not marry anyone. That suited Mouse fine. He didnt figure hed marry up with anyone either, so he could stay at Docs place.

  Joanna sat down next to him. “You shouldnt be here,” she scolded softly. “David might see you.”

  “So youll argue with him about me again?” Mouse shrugged, his throat tight. “What dyou care?”

  He heard the rustle of silk as she stood. She smelled like dark, burned honey: Joanna didnt wear the kind of scents like the other girls, nothing flowery on her. Probably why David Smith, son of Eli Smith, the richest man in these parts, liked her so much.

  “I do care, Mouse,” she said calmly. “Didnt Mr. Eli come by and see you recently?”

  “You asked him to,” Mouse dismissed. David Smiths father wasnt like his son. He seemed nice, and he had shown an interest in Mouse. Mouse had the feeling the older man wanted to spend more time with him, but like everyone in town, he was wary of setting David off.

  Unlike Joanna, who went down the stairs because he was in town. David.

  * * *

  “Why, hello there,” Gabriel said. His long legs were stretched out, and he was mellowing from the cigar hed indulged in when he spied the small boy hiding under one of the tables, the same boy that hed seen earlier with the doctor. “Should you be in here at this hour, young man?”

  The boy tilted his head without meeting Gabriels eyes. Rather his gaze drifted in another direction. “Your voice is like candy,” he noted after a moment.

  Gabriel quirked his lips but then frowned as he saw the boys gaze didnt move. He obviously could not see the gesture. He scratched his skin, nearly revealed from the beard hed had removed. “Thank you. And who might you be?”

  “Im just Mouse.”

  “Hello, Mouse. Is it not a bit late in the evening for you to be visiting this establishment?”

  The boy shrugged.

  Gabriel puffed on his cigar, enjoying its taste to the hilt, in defiance of his cough. “You may join me if you like.”

  “Were you out looking for gold?” His eyes fixed on the ceiling, Mouse hopped onto the seat next to Gabriel.

  Gabriel waved a hand in front of the boys face.

  “I was prospecting, yes, though Im afraid like most men I did not find much color.”

  “I cant see nothing. Probably youre wondering.”

  “Yes, I did take note.”

  Mouse hung his head and Gabriel sensed the conflict in him, wanting to stay and learn more about the stranger, but also wanting to hide himself away.

  “During the War of Northern Aggression, I knew a man who lost his vision. He works his farm now.”

  “Even though he cant see?”

  “Well,” Gabriel said, pouring himself another careful measure of liquor, “Tennyson wrote, „Shall eagles not be eagles? Wrens be wrens? If all the world were falcons, what of that? The wonder of the eagle were the less, but he not less the eagle.”

  Mouses forehead crinkled.

  “It means that all men are not the same, but different, and yet possess their own gifts.”

  Mouse felt a spike of pride. “Yeah. I can find my way around town, and I know everyone in it by their sound.”

  Gabriel wiped the sweat from his cheeks, feeling dizzy. It was time he headed back to his rented room for the night. “I seek my bed, young sir, and surely it is past time for you to also seek yours. Do you have a place to stay?”

  Mouse nodded. “Doc Jude. He came all the way from Boston to be our doctor. He keeps a room for me.”

  Gabriel coughed and pulled out a handkerchief, wiping his lips. “I have heard he is a most unusual man. Well, you better go there now.”

  “Mister, are you a famous gunfighter?” The words burst from the boy. He reddened and looked self-conscious, and Gabriel felt a pang,
remembering how when he was Mouses age, he had lost himself in reading about King Arthur and Lancelot.

  “Im a ruined man,” Gabriel answered.

  “But youre packing guns?” Mouse asked hopefully.

  Gabriel sighed, suddenly feeling ancient, as if the guns riding his hips weighed heavier than the gold hed dug out of a lonely mountain, with lonelier voices from his past seeming to haunt it. “I am. If you will excuse me, Mouse, I am off to get some rest.”

  “Yeah. Guess you bein sick an all.”

  Gabriel paused but didnt question how Mouse had guessed. The boy obviously used his working senses to the fullest.

  * * *

  Gabriel was lost in fever dreams until almost dawn. He woke with tears on his cheeks and, from old habit, brushed them away.

  He sat up and reached for the creased paper he kept next to his watch. It was falling apart now, but he could still make out Jacobs likeness.

  “Uhhh!”

  He stiffened when he caught a pained cry reaching his room. Hed thought hed dreamed the sound.

  He climbed slowly to his feet, body aching, and looked out the window that faced a cluster of trees next to a stream. He saw a circle of men, one holding a lantern aloft.

  As he studied the figures, trying to see what they were up to so late at night, a man raised a belt and struck the back of a small, hunched boy.

  It was Mouse.

  * * *

  “Told you Id get you back, you little bastard!” David Smith smirked. The runt wasnt making fun of him now. His face was wet with tears though he refused to cry out, no matter how hard David swung the belt, marking red lines into his back. But the brat wouldnt play any more of those goddamned practical jokes on him again. No, sir!

  David also couldnt wait until that interfering do-good, Doc Jude, got word about his little friend. David had never liked the doctor, though hed taken care of David and his gang from time to time.