Kate knew what to do from watching her father. She got bandages, then took the splinter out. She wrapped her hand carefully, and set about removing all traces of blood she might have left on the floor and swept up all the glass she could find. By the time she’d done that, her hand had begun to throb. She went to her father’s medical cabinet and took out what he’d given her in her hysteria back in January. Tincture of laudanum. She didn’t know how much to use, so she took a big gulp, replaced the bottle and went back upstairs to her room. She meant to lie down on the bed, but when she stooped to pick up a few more bits of glass, her head swam. She passed out between the bed and the bureau. She couldn’t be seen from the doorway.
Her mother and Nettie told her the rest later. After her mother got home from wrapping bandages with her church circle, Nettie and Ted came home without Kate. Nettie learned from Kate’s teacher that she’d gone home ill. They called for her, to no avail. Her mother became frantic, hoping she’d gone to Lacey’s. She sent Nettie there and when Kate didn’t turn up, she sent Ted to the hospital for Dr. Shaw. Her father and Mr. Ferris went to the river and asked, but no one had seen a blond girl wearing a black dress. They returned to console Kate’s mother the best they could and waited until morning, when the police could search the river below the falls.
Nettie was throwing out eggshells the next morning and found Kate’s broken picture of Stuart in the garbage. She showed the bloody shards to her mother. That confirmed the worst in their minds. Their wailing woke her father and Ted. Everyone gathered in the kitchen, except Kate’s kitten, which hadn’t come down for breakfast. Her father prepared to go to the police, but when Ted went upstairs to bring down the kitten, he found it playing with a foot behind the bed.
Kate’s father identified the drug and was able to bring her around with an effort. They didn’t send her to the hospital, but tended her at home. There was no great scandal, but it was known she’d gone missing overnight. Eventually, she confided in her mother, who told Nettie and her father. They were all relieved to hear what she’d learned about Stuart and that she had no intention of doing away with herself. She hated herself for having been a fool, but not enough to harm herself further on Stuart’s account.
Dr. Shaw was called away for a difficult breach delivery. It was more than thirty hours after she’d hurt her hand before he could see to it properly. He tried to repair the damage with his best stitches, but the scar became her constant companion, the reminder of her folly. She’d like to forget Stuart and her madness, but she knew she never would.
* * * * *
Nearly supper time. They’d set extra places for Monday and Reverend Barnes. Kate had filled wash pitchers in the bedrooms and was headed downstairs with the empty bucket, when there came a knock at the front door. When Sally didn’t run to answer it, Kate called out, “I’ll get it.” She opened the door, and found herself staring at the oddest-looking stranger.
The young man’s unruly brown hair had evidently just been released from his hat. He stood about six feet tall, lanky almost to the point of gauntness. He reminded her a bit of a young Abraham Lincoln, except that his beard was smaller, and he sported a moustache that Lincoln didn’t have. He wore a baggy black suit and a sweat-stained clerical collar. He held his hat and saddlebags in his left hand. In his right rested a spear nearly as tall as he was, decorated elaborately in feathers, thongs, and beads. It had a rusty iron tip and a crossbar about even with his shoulder. While she stood there gaping at him, he introduced himself.
“Oh, good afternoon. I’m Jonah Barnes, and you must be. . . .”
She recovered enough to say, “I’m Kate Shaw, the new schoolteacher. Pleased to meet you, Reverend Barnes. Martha’s told me so much about you.”
“How nice to meet you, Miss Shaw. I recall Martha said the town had finally hired a teacher, but I’d forgotten when you were to arrive. I hope your stay has been pleasant so far.”
Kate saw he had a small valise on the porch. “Please come in, Reverend. We won’t eat for half an hour yet, but I’m sure you’d like to freshen up. I’ll get your bag.” As she reached past him for his valise on the porch, he came in and placed the spear carefully among the parasols and a cane in the stand beside the front door, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.
A short while later, Monday arrived for supper. When Kate introduced them, Barnes hesitated before reaching out to shake Monday’s hand. Perhaps an aversion to lawmen. It couldn’t be an aversion to guns. Monday had hung his up in the hall near their guest’s spear.
“Martha told me you escorted Miss Shaw here from Laramie. Too bad she had to see that killing. It must have been quite a shock.”
“Yes, it was,” Kate said. “But almost as bad as the shock of the murder was my feeling of helplessness. I could do nothing for the unfortunate man. My father’s a doctor, and I know some things to render aid, but he was already beyond my poor powers.”
“I’m sure you did your best, Miss Shaw. If you’ll forgive my saying so, Marshal, you seem a trifle young to be an experienced peace officer.” Barnes himself looked like he was only in his mid-twenties. “I understand you’re making inquiries into that man’s death.”
“That’s right, Reverend. I been doing all right keeping the peace, but solving a murder when we don’t know who the killer is, well, that’s a harder nut to crack. Miss Kate’s fond of telling me I can’t stop all crimes with a bullet or a badge. Sometimes I have to use my head.”
“Indeed?” Barnes said. “I’m pleased to hear that even adults in this community may improve their education under her instruction. Are you making any progress, Marshal?”
“Well, I been showing around Miss Kate’s drawing of the murdered man, but I haven’t found anyone who knew him yet. He’s buried up at the cemetery.”
“Perhaps I could see that picture some time.” Monday patted his vest pocket, but Kate knew he’d stopped carrying it. “I ought to visit the man’s grave and say a prayer over him before I ride on. Miss Shaw, would you be willing to point out the grave?”
“Yes, Reverend, I’d be happy to. Well, not happy. I mean, well, you must know what I mean,” Kate finished limply. Why was she so flustered in front of this man?
“I think I do. And would you both stop calling me ‘Reverend’ every two sentences? Martha calls me Jonah except on Sundays. Methodist preachers don’t have to be referred to as ‘Father This or That’ all the time, as if we were priests.”
Martha called them to supper. Jonah sat at the head of the table, Martha at the kitchen end. Sally and Buxton would eat in the kitchen. Kate sat at Barnes’ right, and Monday sat across from her, since he, like Kate, was new to town since the last time the circuit rider had been here. The other two boarders, Mark the bank teller, and Clancy, a mining engineer, filled out the table.
“Well, Padre,” began Monday after Barnes said grace. “That’s quite a pig sticker you left out there in the hall. Hope Buxton don’t get to playing with it. Don’t recall I’ve ever heard of a preacher going about armed in quite that way.”
“Oh, Buxton knows to leave it alone, Mr. Taggart. And it’s not so much a weapon as it is my safe conduct. One of Red Cloud’s chiefs, Spotted Tail, gave it to me when I rode through their land during my first circuits. I ride alone most of the time, and these Sioux intercepted me. When men with guns tell me what to do, I always listen politely. They took me to their village. Spotted Tail speaks passable English and decreed that I was a holy man of my people and not to be harmed. Since then, I’ve stayed at several Indian villages.”
“With never a worry about losing your hair, Reverend?” asked Clancy.
“Not since I received this lance. Spotted Tail told me it would indicate I had his blessing. I’m sure it wouldn’t receive the same blessing from my bishop down in Denver, if he knew of it. Spotted Tail taught me these signs.” He made a few quick gestures with his right hand.
“How fascinating,” said Kate. “Indian sign language. What did you just say?�
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“I said ‘I come in peace as a friend of Spotted Tail.’ It’s understood by other tribes, but I’m told I wouldn’t be welcome with that lance among the Crow or the Pawnee. This sign, Miss Shaw”—he held his right index and middle finger together at shoulder height and raised the gesture a few inches—“means ‘friend’ and is most useful. I believe it derives from the concept of two, . . .” He wiggled his index and middle finger. “. . . Growing up together.” He repeated the gesture and Kate tried it. “That’s good. I know more than a hundred words or phrases now.”
“So you’ve found this lance and your Bible to be serviceable armor to protect you in your travels among the heathen, then?” Mark asked.
“Yes. I try to set a good example of Christian behavior for them. Since I don’t drink, smoke, or gamble, they don’t see any of the white man’s more notorious vices in me. I think that helps. I know some children’s games and I’ve taught their youngsters a few songs like ‘Jesus Loves Me.’ I feel no particular fear when I live among them. It’s the soldiers, the railroad, the buffalo hunters that upset them.”
“Did you add that crosspiece yourself, uh, Jonah?” Monday asked.
“Yes, I did. They thought I’d use it to hang scalps from. I just tried to make it look more like a cross and less like a weapon. We’ve had some minor misunderstandings like that.”
“Tell him about the Indian maiden they sent to your teepee, Jonah,” Martha prompted.
“I fear that’s not a suitable topic for dinner conversation in front of Miss Shaw.”
“No, please,” Kate said. “If that was a minor misunderstanding you resolved, I’d be pleased to learn of it.” Monday was looking oddly at her. What was the matter? Did he think she was flirting with the preacher? Good heavens, was she?
“Let me just say she resisted my attempts to show her the door. My interpreter had retired by then, so I spent that night out of doors and was glad it didn’t rain. Next day, I explained to the chief—not Spotted Tail in this case—that it is not the custom of holy men in my tribe to sleep with women until they’re married. He accepted my explanation graciously, but the young woman avoids me whenever I visit that camp. She’s now betrothed to a young warrior, and I hope to attend their wedding in October.
“Tell me, Miss Shaw,” Barnes went on. “Martha says you may help Liza Crandall and share duties playing the piano on Sunday. I thought we might talk tomorrow about some hymns for the service. Can you play ‘A Mighty Fortress’ and ‘Amazing Grace’?” Kate and Martha exchanged glances. She didn’t look at Monday.
“I’d be glad to discuss hymns with you, Jonah. If you’ll collect me when you’re ready, we can go to the Crandalls’ together.” She noticed Monday looking at her, but she couldn’t tell if his expression implied concern for the hymn or for the time she’d be spending with Jonah. Jonah? She was thinking of him as Jonah already. What did she say to Martha this afternoon about men? She was looking forward to tomorrow, but she looked back at Monday just as intently as he was staring at her. Was he jealous? She’d probably find out at the dance.
All their suspects would be there tomorrow: Bull, Len Odom, Noah Crandall, ranchers, cowboys, miners, and soldiers. Maybe they could rule out some of them. Bound to be a large group. She hoped nobody would shoot at Monday again when so many of their suspects would be in town.
Chapter 25
Saturday
Warbonnet
The morning of the dance was shaping up into a terrible day. Monday had known it since last night, when he’d seen Kate play up to Reverend Barnes. He couldn’t wait to go walk his rounds. He’d had to talk a couple miners into following the new sign in the Alamo and hanging their rifles from the pegs instead of propping them against their chairs while they played cards. He’d met little resistance and it had been a peaceful evening. Doc and Chet had told him real ruckuses could start tonight. Between that and thinking of Kate, he hadn’t slept well.
As if that weren’t enough on his mind, just before waking, he’d had the Mary Ellen dream again. He remembered shouting “Don’t go, Mary Ellen! Don’t go!” But when he looked down at the body in his arms, it was the face and blond hair of Kate Shaw. Not a trace of blood on her dress. She was wearing the one he’d first seen her in, dark blue with white trim.
What did it mean? Was Kate taking Mary Ellen’s place in his memories? In his heart? Was he afraid Kate would die on him, too? Die because of him? Die in his place? He swirled his cup and took a last sip—and made a face. He’d been thinking on his dream for so long, the coffee got cold. What a great start to the day.
Things continued to go sour later, while Monday was working with Bull and Ike, fitting large panels together for the dance floor in front of the school. Ike praised Monday for the idea of the sign in the saloon.
“The marshal here hit on this idea—no doubt it’s worked for him in other towns—to put up a sign in the Alamo saying ‘Hang your guns here, by order of marshal’. Sounds a little funny, like a telegram. Pretty near everybody’s done as it says. Never would’ve believed it.”
“Huh,” Bull said. “That right, Marshal? You get that idea from lots of other towns where you been a lawman?”
Monday noted Bull’s sarcasm, and had trouble meeting the big man’s eyes. They continued working in strained silence.
Things continued to look bad when they went to move the piano from the Crandalls’ down to the school. The piano would be outside for the dance, then moved indoors for tomorrow’s church service. After Jonah and the ladies finished hymn practice, the three loaded the piano into the wagon.
Monday looked down at himself. Assembling the dance floor and moving the piano had left large sweat stains on his undershirt. What in hell had he taken a bath for? Kate came out with Jonah and he saw a bath had done someone good. Kate’s hair shone almost white. She walked away with Jonah without noticing Monday. Maybe that was who she’d dance with tonight. What a great evening this day was going to turn into.
They heaved the piano into place at the school, then brought benches out and placed them around the dance floor. Monday was stretching his back, thinking about putting a tarp over the piano if it looked like rain later, when Nick Torricelli touched his elbow.
“Scusi, Marshal. This look like a good time for you to get shave and haircut for the dance tonight. Special rate for first time.”
Monday stroked his chin. Joe said, “Go ahead, Sam. Take my place.” He laughed through his bushy beard. Even Bull was grinning.
Damn. These men liked him. He wasn’t who they thought he was, but they believed he was doing a good job, and they liked him. He thought about next week as Nick lathered him up. Next week, when he’d probably fail to identify the killer and he’d have to tell everyone what he’d done. When he’d have to leave all this and Kate behind.
* * * * *
The dance started before dark, so the younger children could participate. Liza Crandall was at the piano, Joe Fitch on fiddle, and a miner Monday didn’t recognize played harmonica for a while, then the squeeze box. Farm and ranch families came in wagons. Here came Logan and hands from the X-Star Ranch—Red Tyler and Jasper Tenney, and two men Monday had seen before but hadn’t met, older and tough looking. Three wagonloads of miners. Two cavalry details from Fort Fetterman. Evidently, nothing brought out cowboys, miners, and soldiers like the prospect of dancing with pretty women.
Monday put out a gun table next to the punch table. The miners tossed their weapons on the table, but the soldiers preferred to hang theirs on their saddles. Red and Jasper shucked gunbelts so fast, it looked like they intended to live on the dance floor tonight. Everywhere, knots of men gathered around women, dropped coins into cups and got their names on dance cards.
Noah told Monday he’d have many jobs: Make sure every man at the dance took off his gun, keep an eye on the church women’s punchbowl to keep it from being spiked, ensure peace in the saloon, and make sure men who came to the dance from the saloon weren’t too drunk to stay verti
cal. He looked at the lengthening shadows between the buildings. The dance floor and musicians’ stand were going to be well lit, but the street was getting dark.
He checked the gun table and punchbowl for the third time and was about to head for the saloon when a voice said, “What a crowd. Looks like you could use a deputy, Marshal.”
Jonah stood nearly invisible in his black suit. He’d left his Bible and lance home tonight.
“Didn’t see you there, Reverend. You volunteering?”
“No, I don’t see how I’d make as good a lawman as you, Sam. But I could watch over the punchbowl and gun table whenever you need to go down the street.” His words were pleasant enough, but he wasn’t smiling when he spoke. What did that mean? He couldn’t be as jealous of Monday as Monday was of him. Barnes had an education, wasn’t married, and could probably sing and dance well, too. Kate liked him already.
“The nature of my calling means I don’t get paid. I get room and board in each town, but I don’t have two dimes to rub together. I usually sit these things out and hope for a ladies’ choice dance.” That was a relief. Maybe Barnes would be no competition after all.
Monday moved over to a crowd of men jostling the ladies. Kate wore her pink dress tonight and had her hair swept up and pinned above her ears. Like angel wings, he thought. Still the prettiest thing this side of Texas. He asked about her dance card.
“I’m sorry, but all these men I’ve never even met mobbed me. They kept dropping coins into my cup and begging for places on my card. I’m afraid I’ve signed all my dances away. And this”—she jingled a mug—“is my fourth cup. I’ll try to keep a last dance open for you and watch for you at some ladies’ choice numbers. Could you convey this cup to Mrs. Odom’s cash box?” Monday took it and said he would, hoping his disappointment didn’t show.
Murder for Greenhorns Page 22
