Home by Morning

by Alexis Harrington

  Amy struggled to sit up again. “I already told you why. You didn’t deserve Cole!”

  Had her sister always been such a monster of selfishness? Jess wondered. Had she no conscience at all? “And what gave you the right to decide this? Do you feel no guilt, no remorse?”

  Amy gave her a narrow-eyed look. “Did you feel guilty for monopolizing all of Daddy’s time?”

  It was as if a frighteningly different person lurked behind Amy’s mask of pious good deeds. Bitter resentment stirred in Jessica, and though she managed to keep her shaking voice low in this semi-public place, she could no longer contain her anger. “So you decided that you were the one who should marry Cole. You made us both believe that the other had broken off our engagement—”

  “You were not engaged. Not officially.”

  “—despite knowing we’d loved each other since childhood,” Jess went on, ignoring Amy’s interruption. “You told us unforgivable lies—us, people you claim to love. I’m not going to put up with this from you—I won’t take it from anyone!” She rose from the stool. “You don’t think I deserve Cole? Well, let me tell you something, Amy. I don’t think Cole deserves a double-crossing fraud like you.”

  A quick gasp at the insult set off a mild coughing spell in Amy, but Jessica didn’t linger.

  A steady rain lashed the dining room windows at the Braddock farm. Only Cole and Pop sat at the table.

  Susannah had gone back to her chair beside the parlor window, and the boys were asleep upstairs. Since Susannah wasn’t going near the infirmary any longer, it was decided that their restriction to the bunkhouse, away from the ranch house, could end. They were the only ones who still ate with the gusto of childhood innocence. Cole knew they sensed that something was wrong—the adults were acting funny. Their uncle Tanner had told them that Miss Susannah’s husband wouldn’t be coming back from the war. But their own parents had left them and they weren’t coming back, either. That had been worse.

  Tanner sat in the parlor reading a farm journal. Cole had noticed that Tanner had been especially solicitous to Susannah since the news of Riley’s death. He liked the hired hand. He did his job, he was quiet and competent, and he was good with those nephews.

  Cole picked up his blue enamel coffee mug to go to the kitchen. “More, Pop?”

  “I guess.” He pushed his own mug toward Cole.

  Cole went to the stove and returned with steaming refills. Both men had taken about as much punishment from whiskey as they could stand. Now they were back on coffee.

  “I have something to tell you about.”

  His father gave him a tired, apprehensive look. “Yeah?”

  Cole nodded, and explained why he was no longer involved with Amy.

  Pop stared at him. “You’re sure about all that?”

  For the third time, Cole produced his evidence and shoved it across the table. The old man picked up both messages and held them at arm’s length to decipher them.

  “So now what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to ask Jessica to marry me and stay here in Powell Springs.”

  Pop closed his eyes. “God, that doctor gal again.”

  “Come on, Pop, admit it. Amy tried to fool all of us with her underhanded double-dealing. Jessica has never been anything except, well, except Jessica. Amy—” He shuddered. “I honestly don’t know who she is. Neither does Jess. And that’s not the kind of thing you want to find out after you say ‘I do.’”

  The old man held up an arthritic hand to concede the point. “Boy, she took us all for a hell of a ride, that’s for sure.”

  “Yeah. Is that what you want in a daughter-in-law?”

  Pop sighed and rubbed his white, short-cropped hair, and didn’t answer right away. He looked older than Cole could remember, as if his spark, that little internal fire that made him feisty and cantankerous, had been doused. “Sometimes I think I’ve lived too long,” he said finally. “Everything is turned upside down. I’m not sure what a body can count on anymore.” With slow, stiff movements, he pulled a small bottle out of his hip pocket and added some whiskey to his cup. “When your ma died, I bulled my way through because I had you two boys to raise, and I knew she’d expect me to do it right.” He looked up at Cole. “I’ve never really been certain if I did that.”

  Cole fiddled with his spoon, unprepared for this frankness from his father. Immediately, he felt defensive. “Why, because I wasn’t the son you expected me to be?”

  Pop glared at him. “Did I say that?”

  “Sometimes, in so many words.”

  “How?” he demanded. “How did I do that?”

  Cole was in no mood to rehash old arguments and past insinuations. “It doesn’t matter now. Let’s just say that I often felt like I was the one you wondered about.” Grief and anger over losing Riley made him say more than he would have ordinarily. “I was the one who didn’t turn out the way you wanted.”

  “Because I wanted you to go to war with Riley?” Pop persisted. He put his elbows on the table and leaned forward a bit. “Well, let me tell you something. I thought it was the right thing to do at the time. Now…”

  “And now?”

  Cole waited, for what he wasn’t sure. Approval, praise, some comment that wasn’t laced with criticism. But it didn’t come.

  He waved Cole off and pushed himself from the chair with a loud groan. “Now I’m going to bed.”

  Cole watched him shuffle across the floor. Sighing, he stared at the rain-washed windows and at the blackness beyond.

  Early the next morning, Amy returned to Laura Donaldson’s house to recuperate. That meant the infirmary would be losing the woman’s help, but given her emotional personality, Jess didn’t think the loss was that great.

  Jessica purposely stayed at her office doing paperwork until she knew that her sister had gone. Their public scene had been ugly, and worse, Jess sensed the subtle division of supporters among the people in the infirmary. Some were sympathetic to Jessica, others to Amy. Jess didn’t care who took which side—she found the entire situation embarrassing. If only Cole had waited for a more opportune moment to open this can of worms.

  While she sat at the desk in her back room, she caught herself waiting for signs of activity at the shop next door. The sound of hammer on metal, the smell of the forge, the whinny of horses. But there was nothing.

  That afternoon after she returned to the high school, she was listening to the sodden lungs of Jeremy Easton, fearing the worst for him, when she heard a commotion outside. She shut out the noise, trying to concentrate on her patient. Laying a hand against his face, she could feel the fever burning within him. Please, she thought, not Jeremy too.

  “Well, land sakes!” Granny Mae blurted from across the cavernous room.

  Jessica looked up and saw Granny and Iris Delaney at the window. “What’s going on out there?”

  “I can’t tell. But Adam Jacobsen is with a group of people, and they’re coming this way.”

  A cold hand of dread stole around Jessica’s heart. Adam had not been seen at the infirmary since the morning he’d jumped out at her and Cole, pointing a finger of judgment at them as if he were an avenging archangel. She walked to the window to stand beside Granny Mae and pulled down her mask, aghast at what she saw outside.

  Adam Jacobsen and a ragged band of followers, which included Laura Donaldson, James Leonard, and his reluctant-looking wife Dolly, had gathered on the steps of the high school. James Leonard carried a badly painted sign.

  God will judge fornicators

  and adulterers!

  Through the glass, Jess heard Adam’s muted pontificating. “…want your loved ones left in the care of an immoral harlot who masquerades behind her honorable profession?”

  A wave of nos swelled from the group, like a breeze wafting across a field of summer wheat.

  “For all we know, Dr. Layton might have brought this plague with her. We didn’t have it until she got here,” Adam said.

  “Hey,
that’s right!”

  “It’s like you said, Mr. Jacobsen. The last days.”

  “The town council has refused to remove her, refused to admit that I’m right—that she’s not fit to practice medicine. Granny Mae can take care of our people. Dr. Layton is not a Powell Springs citizen any longer.”

  General babbling came from the group, and a couple of people stared at Jessica with angry, spite-filled gazes, making her back away from the glass.

  “But we are not powerless,” Adam continued, speaking at full volume. “The democratic process that has made us a great nation will let us prevail. Sign the petitions I’ve given you. Circulate them among everyone you know. If it means going into that saloon that serves demon rum at the end of the street, amen! I know that’s where the harlot’s fancy man goes to drink, but every signature counts. Do whatever it takes. God is on our side!” He pointed to the double front doors of the school. “The harlot is inside!”

  “Oh, dear!” Iris exclaimed.

  “This is horrible,” Jessica said, her heart drumming in her chest. “He’s inciting them to violence. Cole needs to know about this.”

  Granny Mae watched the hubbub, her gray bun slightly askew on her head. “Looks like you made yourself an enemy. A dangerous one, too. That little weasel has reported me to the American Protective League twice already.”

  Jessica sighed and interlaced her hands under her chin, making a steeple in front of her lips with her two index fingers. Why, oh, why hadn’t she listened to Cole about Adam? He was not only unhinged, he was as malevolent as a viper. To suggest that she infected Powell Springs with influenza—the man was filled with hate. She almost expected to see Amy in the group, too, except Jess knew that she was still too weak to take part in something so strenuous. And a small part of her heart refused to let her believe that her sister, regardless of what she had already done, would go as far as the people outside.

  “I’m going to have to get Sheriff Gannon over here if this gets worse,” Jessica said. “Those people could decide to attack the infirmary, and we’ll be sitting ducks here with all these patients.”

  While she waited for the crowd to disperse, Winks Lamont and Bert Bauer came in the back door to collect the two bodies waiting in the cloakroom for burial. Bauer, with his ratlike face, gave Jessica a salacious look that made her cringe.

  Adam and his followers finally left, full of righteous purpose, to follow their minister’s bidding. Once Jessica was certain they’d gone, she ran back to her office to call Cole on the telephone.

  “I’m so glad you’re in the house.”

  “I just came in for a sandwich. I was out in the barn pitching hay. What’s the matter?” he asked.

  Knowing full well that operators and other parties on the line often listened in on telephone conversations, Jessica hedged. “Plenty. I can’t talk about it now. I need to discuss it with you privately.”

  “Privately—who else is with you, Jess?”

  Impatient and frightened, she replied, “Only Birdeen.”

  A decidedly female gasp sounded that was not Jessica’s, followed by a sharp click on the line.

  “See?”

  “Okay, I’ll be there right away.”

  Jess paced the length and width of her downstairs office, occasionally going to the window to look for both Cole or signs of trouble. She massaged her neck as she walked. After everything that had happened, she began to ask herself, what was the point? Why should she continue to work in medicine?

  At last she heard the truck engine and ran to the window. “Thank God,” she said aloud, and watched Cole park in front of the shop. She pulled open her front door, and he smiled at her as he approached. Her heart lightened just at the sight of him. Even though he still looked a little haggard, he didn’t seem quite as worn out and bedraggled as he had before.

  “Jess.” He stepped inside and closed the door. Taking her into his arms, he gave her a quick kiss. Releasing her, he said, “Sorry, I guess I’m a little ripe.” He smelled of clean sweat and hay and horses, but it was very male and enticing, and a welcome difference from the musty-smelling black suit and scent of hair oil that always wafted from Adam. This close, she noticed Cole was wearing a gun belt with a long-barreled revolver in the holster.

  Men in New York didn’t wear guns, but things were different here. This was still the Wild West.

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I left as soon as I hung up. Are you all right?”

  “No.” It wasn’t like her to be so blunt—people expected to hear that she was fine, no matter what. But she wasn’t fine now, and because he was affected by the reason, he needed to know why. “Come and sit. I wish you’d brought that bottle of whiskey.” With a last quick look out the front window, she reached over to lock the door. Then she motioned him toward her back room.

  He frowned at her obvious nervousness. “What’s going on? Sounds serious.”

  “It is serious.”

  They settled in the only two chairs left in the back, and she explained what had happened.

  His expression turned as dark as storm clouds. “Damn that rotten son of a bitch! I knew should have decked him when I had the chance.”

  She shook her head vigorously. “Cole, no, you don’t understand. We’re both vulnerable. If you had hit him, he’d only have more ammunition to use against us. He’s going to ruin my reputation for sure. Maybe…maybe even Amy will help him.” Her voice trembled for a moment, and tears gathered behind her lids. “Don’t think that you aren’t on his blacklist too.” She propped her forehead in her hand.

  He thumped the arm of his chair with his fist. “Oh, hell, I wish you hadn’t let him come around here.”

  She rolled her lips against her teeth and looked at her lap, feeling as guilty as a child caught stealing.

  Reaching out, he touched her knee. “I’m not blaming you, Jessica. It’s just that he wouldn’t have had the chance to make this mess if he hadn’t gotten so close.” He sat forward in his chair. “But what can he do to me? Accuse me of being unfit to raise horses? You’re the one I’m worried about.”

  “He can have us arrested—”

  “Oh, brother, I’d like to see him try.” He uttered a short bark of laughter. “Arrested! On what grounds?”

  “These days, reasons don’t matter. The APL encourages people to inform on their neighbors, their friends, everyone. It’s turned into a witch hunt.”

  A frantic knocking on the front door interrupted their conversation. Jessica sidled up to the glass to see a breathless Granny Mae. She yanked open the door and let her in. Cole joined them.

  “Mae, what’s the matter?” he asked.

  “Someone is critical?” Jess asked.

  Granny Mae waved a hand, then put it on her chest. “Let me get my wind.” After drawing a couple of deep breaths, she replied, “That mob—they’re on their way—here. James Leonard is leading them.”

  “What? Why?” Cole asked.

  “Did they hurt the patients?”

  Mae shook her head. “No. They came into the gymnasium, looking for you. I didn’t tell them where you went, but I heard James say they were coming here.”

  “Is Jacobsen with them?”

  “Of course not, that coward,” the old woman said.

  Just then, the crash of breaking glass sounded in the front. Raised, angry voices, trampling over each other, created the sound of angry, milling wild animals. Jess let out a little shriek.

  Cole jumped from his chair and ran to the waiting room, with Jessica fast on his heels. A rock the size of a baseball lay on the floor. He picked it up.

  “Oh, dear God. They’re attacking the office!” she said.

  He looked out the windows and saw some of the people she’d told him had gathered outside the high school. He jammed his hat down on his head.

  Furious, he opened the door and faced them. Jessica started to follow, but he pushed her back inside and into Granny Mae, who was behind her.

 
“There is the fornicator, right here at the scene of the crime!” James Leonard boomed, waving his sign. His wife, Dolly, lurked on the edge of the crowd, looking like a miserable and unwilling participant.

  “What are you talking about, Leonard? And what proof do you have to make your accusations?”

  He wore a short beard that followed only his jawline and a black felt hat. “Reverend Jacobsen’s word is good enough for me.”

  Cole tossed up the rock and caught it again. “When I report your vandalism and the destruction of my property to the county sheriff, you’ll be facing the circuit judge. That will be almost good enough for me. When he sentences you to jail time, I’ll be downright happy.”

  Leonard swelled up like an angry toad. “I didn’t throw that rock.”

  “Really? But here you are, at the scene of the crime.”

  “We want Jessica Layton to stop practicing medicine in Powell Springs and to leave town. She isn’t welcome here anymore.”

  Cole tossed the stone aside and let his hand linger near the pistol on his hip. “Now you listen to me, all of you troublemakers. You get off this property right now, or I swear to God, I’ll have Whit Gannon on the telephone so fast you’ll all be in a county cell by tonight.”

  Granny Mae sidled out from behind Cole. He studied the angry crowd and decided that given their rabid attitude, she could be hurt. He put an arm out to block her. But she would not go back inside. She let her sharp gaze fall on each sheeplike follower. “You know, I saw some of you people in the infirmary when you were so sick, we didn’t know if you would live or die. Dr. Layton took care of you and your families—wives, brothers, sisters, children—and she never asked for one thing in return. This man,” she said, referring to Cole, “carried you inside from the backs of wagons the day we opened for business. He didn’t ask for anything either. His brother just died in France, his family is in mourning, and this is how you repay them—with your dirty-minded assumptions?” She made a noise of contemptuous disgust. There was a shuffling of feet and muttering among the rabble. “Now you do like Cole said. You go on home, mind your own business, and stop pestering people who aren’t bothering you.”