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.”
Chapter 4
“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.
“Miss Love is an educated, refined lady. She informed me that she has lived and worked all her adult life in a church-owned orphanage. She refused to give the name. and the location. Her penmanship is excellent and she proved to be knowledgeable when I presented her with a few bookkeeping problems. It is my opinion that she would be suitable in that capacity if not willing to be a teacher. I was also informed by Miss Love that she has had considerable experience in nursing the sick. She appeared to be very eager to be accepted and seemed undaunted by the fact that Timbertown is a raw frontier town.”
T.C. turned in his chair and looked out the window toward the cookshack. What changed your mind, Miss Love? He had the feeling that it was more than the sleeping quarters or her suspicion that he had recruited the women to mate up with the single men that was sending her scurrying away. He put his palms on the table and pushed himself to his feet. Hell! If she didn’t want to stay she could go, but not until the end of the week when he sent a man to the station to collect the mail.
Just before sundown a caravan of covered wagons arrived. Jane stood with Polly and Sunday to watch the newcomers get stiffly down out of the wagons. As he had done before, T.C. led the single women, one with a young girl, to the barracks building. The five women stood together in the middle of the room, their belongings on the floor at their feet, and listened to T.C. saying essentially the same things he had the night before. When he had finished he looked over their heads and his eyes caught Jane’s.
“Miss Love, would you be kind enough to help the ladies get settled and take them to supper?”
All eyes turned to Jane. She wanted to say no. She wanted to tell him to do it himself or ask Miss Flame-hair. Most of all she wanted to kick him. He knew, and she knew, that she’d be making a fool of herself if she refused. So she nodded.
On his way to the door he stopped in front of her, and his silver eyes held hers. Something flickered there and then was gone. He could make her angry and he knew it, but he’d not shake her from her purpose.
“Herb will bring over several canvas cots that can be set up along the wall. If you need anything tell him.”
“Just a min—” Jane began, but he was out the door. The sneaky polecat! He had put her in an untenable position. The tired, hungry, uncertain women would look to her to tell them what to do. How in the world could she refuse?
“How come Miss Love’s in charge?” a whiny voice asked from the communal bed. It came from a pretty girl who wallowed in self-pity.
“I reckon she made the most of her time while she was over there,” another woman speculated. Low husky laughter followed the remark.
“Didn’t take her long to get in tight with him,” still another muttered.
“Still waters run deep—”
“Did ya get real close to him, Kiss Love? Ya was gone long enough.”
“Ya ornery bitches! I’ll give ya all somethin’—my fist in yore mouth if ya don’t hush it up.” Sunday, her hands on her hips, spoke in a loud firm voice. The eyes of the newcomers went wide with shock. “Yo’re a bunch a cats is what ya are. I thought my sisters was mean and mouthy, but y’all take the cake. Go on, Jane, get these women settled. They’re plumb wore out, just like we was last night. If one of these ladies opens her mouth, she’ll get her tail twisted.”
Jane lifted her chin. Her eyes surveyed the faces of the woman. Most of them were embarrassed by the spiteful remarks of a few and turned away. Jane sent Sunday an amused but grateful look and wished fervently that Kilkenny had put her in charge.
The women appreciated Jane’s help. They accepted the crowded quarters without complaint. Maude Henderson insisted that she and her small daughter could sleep on one canvas cot. The girl, her eyes on the floor, clung to her mother’s arm. She was a thin child and terribly bashful.
“There’s an extra cot. She can have one of her own,” Jane explained.
“She’s afraid—” Mrs. Henderson spoke hesitantly. The woman appeared calm, but her hands trembled and at times her voice quivered.
Jane placed her hand on the girl’s head and gently stroked her hair. She had seen the same frightened, lost look on the faces of children that had been brought to the orphanage.
“What’s your name?”
The girl turned her face into her mother’s arm and refused to answer.
“Stella. Her name is Stella.”
Jane looked into the woman’s face. She returned Jane’s glance cautiously and then turned away. A red scar ran from the corner of her mouth down over her jawbone; her nose was humped and slightly off center, but she had obviously once been a pretty woman.
“I’m sure you’re eager to wash off some of that road dust. Use the warm water from the pot on the laundry stove. After you get settled, I’ll take you to get something to eat.”
The cook’s helper rapped three times on the back door to call the women to supper. They all trooped out leaving the room empty except for Jane, Polly and the new arrivals, who were washing and stowing their belongings beneath their cots.
“Yo’re not goin’ to stay, are ya?” Polly asked as soon as she and Jane sat down on the end of the bench.
“No. I think it best to move on.”
“Where will you go?’
“I’m not sure, but maybe California.”
“I wish I could go with ya.”
“I wish you could too, but we both know it’s impossible.”
“The baby won’t come for five months,” Polly said hopefully.
“You’ll be better off here. I’ll speak to Sunday. I think you can count on her after I’m gone. That terrible man won’t find you; but if he does, I’m sure Mr. Kilkenny wouldn’t stand by and let him take you away from here if you didn’t want to go.”
“Ya don’t like him, do ya?”
“I don’t care for his sneaky tactics. He brought us here hoping we’d marry his workers and build his town. He doesn’t really have work for all of us.”
“A lot of the women want to find a man here and marry. Sunday is tickled pink to have so many to choose from.”
“That’s fine if it’s what she wants. It isn’t what I want.”
“Don’t you want to marry, have a family?”
“Sure, someday, but not to a man who’d want me only for cooking his meals and washing his dirty clothes.”
“Before Mamma died we were a family… of sorts. Papa never wanted to settle down in one pl
ace. We moved a lot Mamma made us a home wherever we happened to be.”
As most young girls do, Jane had dreamed of meeting a man who would love her and not care who she was. He would be tall and handsome and very kind. He would take her away to a mountaintop where they would raise beautiful children and be gloriously happy. By her twentieth birthday she had realized that her dream was silly and unrealistic. No prince was coming to sweep her away to heavenly bliss. She had to take charge of her own future, be the master of her own destiny.
Jane’s shoulders slumped wearily. She had pinned her hopes on a job here in Timbertown. Now that wasn’t to be. It seems that someone had discovered who she was and planned to make her life miserable, maybe to hurt or kill her. Some people were fanatic in their hatred. And why shouldn’t they be? Hundreds of innocent people had been killed because of one dastardly act…
T.C. crossed the street to his house. He didn’t know why he took such pleasure in needling Miss Jane Love. He felt a restless stirring inside him as he admitted to himself that she had been a bright spot in his day. The lady wouldn’t back up for anyone. Her gaze had been as direct as a saber thrust and her voice cold as steel when he had passed by her after asking her to take charge of the newcomers. He’d boxed her into a corner without a way to wiggle out and save face.
Aware she had plenty of argument left in her, he had made a fast retreat. T.C. chuckled as he bounded up onto the porch.
Herb was coming down the hall when he opened the door.
“Doc’s goin’ plumb outta his head. He’s talkin’ ‘bout snakes crawlin’ outta them soldier boys he whittled on durin’ the war. Wants me to kill ‘em. He’s sick. Real sick.”
“Where is he?”
“In the kitchen. I locked the door to the surgery. ‘Fraid he’ll get in there and smash things up.”
Crash! Herb spun on his heel and hurried back down the hall.
The Listening Sky Page 5
