The Listening Sky

by Dorothy Garlock

  While standing outside the privy waiting for Polly, Jane planned ahead. Sometime today she hoped to have the opportunity to speak to Colin Tallman and ask him to take her to the stage station or to arrange for a ride on one of the freight wagons. Polly would be all right here in Kilkenny’s house. Herb would not let any harm come to her. Nathan could linger for days. Others could take care of him. She could not afford to stay any longer and run the risk of being humiliated and scorned should her enemy speak out.

  With that thought entrenched firmly in her mind, she went with Polly back to the house.

  “Ask Mr. Kilkenny if he wants breakfast, Polly.”

  Jane carried the teakettle from the stove, warmed the water in the basin and washed her face and hands. The towel she used to dry her face was damp and smelled of soap. One of the men had shaved here this morning.

  “He ate already. He wants to see you,” Polly said from the doorway.

  “Did you ask him if Herb and Mr. Tallman wanted breakfast?”

  “They’ve gone off somewhere.”

  “Guess it’s just the two of us and Nathan. I’ll make some mush.”

  “I’ll make it while you talk to Mr. Kilkenny.”

  Jane looked longingly at the coffeepot. She would have preferred to have been fortified with at least one cup before facing the lion in his den. Since it was not to be, she braced herself and headed down the hall to the front of the house.

  At the door to Kilkenny’s office she paused and watched him. His head was bent over the table he used as a desk. A pen was grasped firmly in his big hand. His neatly combed blue-black hair glistened in the lamplight It was wet. He had bathed already. But where?

  “Come in, Jane,” he said without taking his eyes from the paper he was working on. Jane wondered how he knew she was there because she had made no sound.

  She entered and stood before the table, waiting for him to look up. He didn’t

  “Sit down. If you don’t, I’ll have to stand. And if I turn loose of this damn pen, I might never pick it up again.”

  Jane sat on the edge of the chair and watched him dip his pen into the ink well and write a few words before, he looked up.

  “How do you spell request?”

  “R-E-Q-U-E-S-T.”

  “No wonder it didn’t look right. I had a G instead of a Q.” He inked the pen again and scratched out the word. In the process a huge drop of ink fell on the letter. “Damn!” He dropped a blotter on the paper and hit it with the side of his hand. When he lifted the blotter, the blob had spread and blotted out the word. He muttered another cuss word.

  “What did you want to talk to me about, Mr. Kilkenny?”

  “Have you had breakfast?”

  “Not even coffee.”

  He must have caught the trace of irritation in her voice. A smile deepened the brackets on each side of his mouth, and small lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes.

  “Need your coffee, huh?”

  “I’m a blithering idiot without it.”

  “Blithering? I’ve not heard that word in a long time. My pa used to say it” He looked down at the ink blots on the paper and frowned. “After you’ve had breakfast, will you copy this letter for me? I need to send it off to our solicitor in Laramie.”

  “I’ll be glad to if you let me go with whoever is going to take it to the train stop.”

  The hands shuffling the papers stilled. “Eat your breakfast and we’ll talk about it.”

  After Jane left the room, T.C. sat back in his chair and twirled the pen around and around in his ink-stained fingers.

  She was still determined to leave.

  He had thought about it a lot. The only conclusion he could come to was that something had happened since she arrived in Timbertown that had changed her mind about staying here. She had some reasons other than her suspicion that he had brought the single women here with the hope they would wed and settle permanently. T.C. did not like a mystery, and he suddenly felt that he was knee-deep in the one that surrounded Jane.

  A year and a half earlier he and Colin had discovered the town on land they had bought with money T.C. had inherited from his father and money lent to Colin by John Tallman. They had ridden up over a hill, and there they had seen it, nestled in a valley surrounded by pines and fir. Ten ramshackle buildings lined a weed-infested road. Five years had taken a toll on the town that had been deserted when a silver vein petered out.

  Garrick Rowe of Trinity was aware of the vast resources that surrounded the town adjoining his land and offered to buy it if T.C. would stay and help bring the town back to life as Rowe had done for Trinity. The money would not only help pay off the loan at the bank, it would also pay for the longhorns he and Colin were bringing up from Texas.

  T.C. was satisfied with the rebuilding so far, satisfied with the people he had brought in—with the exception of a few. By this time next year the job should be completed and he and Colin, Bill Wassall, and possibly Herb would be out of here building their own place.

  His mind shifted back to Jane. Thinking of her was occupying altogether too much of his time of late. He had thought she would feel obligated to stay here in Timbertown, if not for Polly’s sake, then for Doc’s.

  Would she stay after he showed her the paper he had written out and Doc had signed? Somehow T.C. believed it would not make the slightest difference. In spite of the fact that she knew she was needed here, something was driving Jane from Timbertown, and T.C. was determined to find out what it was.

  An hour later when she had not returned to the office, T.C. went looking for her. He found her in Doc’s room. The two of them were verbally sparring as usual. T.C. admired the tactics she used on the sick man.

  During the past twenty-four hours the doctor’s skin had taken on a yellowish tinge, and he seemed to have withered away to bones covered with a thin layer of skin. He would not last long.

  “I’m glad you’re here.” Doc gasped for breath as he spoke. “She’s the most irritating woman I’ve ever met. She’d argue with a stump.”

  “Fiddle-faddle! You’re no prize yourself.” Jane picked up the towels she’d used to wash him.

  “Is she giving you trouble, Doc?”

  “You could say that. She just told me that if I died on her, she’d be as mad as a wet hen. Hell, I’ve got no say-so in the matter!”

  “You two sure strike sparks off each other.”

  “I’ve been trying to get her out so I can use the pot.”

  “I’ll go now that you’ve got help.” T.C. glanced at Jane’s red face as she marched from the room and closed the door behind her.

  T.C. helped Doc sit up on the side of the bed and held the chamber pot so that he could urinate. Doc was so weak that by the time he finished and lay back down, he was trembling.

  “Bullet in the head isn’t a bad way to go, huh, T.C.?”

  “Guess you’re right, Doc.”

  “Herb was here this morning. He has no stomach for seeing me like this.”

  “It’s hard on the boy. He thinks a great deal of you.”

  “He’s sweet on that little gal that’s staying here, isn’t he?”

  “It appears that way. At supper last night he looked like a sick calf and fell all over himself trying to help her.”

  “That’s good. He needs somebody to care for and to care for him. I worry about him.”

  “Don’t. We’d like for him to come to the ranch and work for us for a while. If we run as many cattle as we plan, we’ll need good men.” It was true. T.C. had discussed it with Colin only that morning.

  “He isn’t going to know how to handle things.”

  “I know. He’ll have help from Garrick Rowe as well as me and Colin.”

  “I’m glad we came here. It’s a good place to die, as long as you’ve got to do it.”

  “I’m glad you came too, Doc. You’re quite a man.”

  “Shit! Tell that to the boys behind the barn. A man passes through life only one time. He does what he has to d
o.”

  “You’ve done more than most.”

  “I can’t figure out why Jane’s so set on leaving. How are you planning to keep her here?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “You like her, don’t you? I mean more than like.“

  “I do. But if she stays, it’ll be for you.”

  “I told her I didn’t want one of them feather-headed women watchin’ me die. She said she’d tell them to shut their eyes.” A wheezing chuckle came from him. “She’s a pistol.”

  “I’ll see that she stays… to the end, Doc. You’ve got my word on that.”

  “Find out what’s eating at her, boy.” Doc closed his eyes wearily. “Marry her. You couldn’t do better.”

  “Do you want her to come in now?”

  Doc didn’t answer and T.C. went to the door. He found Jane standing at the end of the hall wiping her eyes on the end of her apron. She dropped it and lifted her head when she saw him. T.C. came close to her before he spoke.

  “He’s much worse, isn’t he?”

  “He couldn’t swallow the mush. I don’t know what to do.”

  “If there was anything to be done, he would know it. He’s a good doctor.” T.C. placed his hand on her upper arm and rubbed it gently.

  “I feel so… bad.” The lashes that surrounded her eyes were spiked with tears.

  “He’s worried you’ll leave… before the end.”

  She moved away and his hand fell from her back. “I’ve got… I want to.”

  “Will a few days make a difference?”

  “I… don’t know.”

  “It would mean a lot to Doc. He likes you.”

  “It’s”—Jane sniffed back a fresh batch of tears—”because I sass him.”

  “Fussing with you takes his mind off things for a while.”

  “Somebody else can do it. It… hurts! Can’t you understand that?” Her eyes mirrored her distress.

  “I understand. It’s hard to see someone you’re fond of die. I watched my father die, my mother and my brother. Each time it hurt in a different way.”

  Jane straightened her shoulders, tilted her head and stepped farther away from him.

  “You’re trying to make me feel guilty for leaving him.”

  “It’s only for a few days.”

  “When it’s over… you’ll let me go?”

  “When it’s over, I’ll take you to the station myself if you still want to go.”

  “How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

  “Ask Colin or Doc if my word is good.”

  “I guess… I’ve no choice.”

  “Why don’t you trust me?”

  She stood under his steady gaze. The frown of disapproval she gave him did nothing but intensify his stare.

  “Because you’ve… got shifty eyes.” Jane didn’t know why she had said such a stupid thing. Her only excuse for the absurdity was that she would not let him think she would knuckle under completely.

  “Shall we shake on it?” A smile lengthened his lips as he held out his hand and waited. His silver eyes held hers and she couldn’t look away.

  “All right, I’ll stay… until the end.” She placed her hand in his. Their palms met and he squeezed her fingers lightly.

  “I know you have reasons for wanting to leave here other than the one you told me about, reasons you didn’t have until you came here. It makes me think that someone is threatening you. If that is so, I’m here to help you.”

  She jerked her hand from his. He had come so close to the truth that it caused her to tremble. She hid her anxiety with sarcasm.

  “Thank you very much, sir, but I don’t need a hero riding to my rescue. It appears to me that you know very little about women, if you’re unaware that one can change her mind once in a while.”

  T.C. dipped his head in a curt nod. Her words required no reply on his part. He looked at her face as if to fix it in his mind. The faint color that appeared in her cheeks told him that she was not as unruffled as she pretended to be. She was scared and doing her best not to show it. No harm would come to her as long as she was here in his house. He wanted to tell her, but she was in no mood to accept assurances from him. He had a week, maybe, to find out what was scaring her and to do something about it.

  “I’ll hire one of the women to come over. She can do the wash and help Polly with the other work. There hasn’t been any washing done in a while.”

  “Send it to the washhouse.”

  “Have you been there lately? They’re swamped with washing for the men. I want it done here. Polly’s in no condition to be doing hard work. You’ll have your hands full with Doc and helping me. There’s a string of freight wagons coming in today. Colin went out early this morning to meet them.”

  “I’m not the only one in town who can write,” she blurted. “You may have to do more doctoring.” His eyes bored into Jane’s, a hint of suppressed laughter behind them. When he grinned, the corner of his mouth lifted. “Murphy is out there singin’ your praises to the men. I’d not be surprised if we had a sickness break out just so they can visit the pretty doctor.”

  “I’m not… either of those things! It’s not right that I be passed off as such.”

  “Without Doc, you’re the best we’ve got. Which one of the women do you want to come over?”

  “The choice is not mine.”

  “Which one is most suitable?” he insisted. “You talked to them. I didn’t”

  “Mrs. Henderson. Her girl can help Polly.”

  “I’ll go and ask her to come over. After you get Doc settled, come write my letters. I want them on the evening train.”

  By the end of the day, Jane knew she’d not been wrong about Maude Henderson. The woman not only was a willing worker, she was careful not to make Polly feel she was in any way trying to take her place here. Stella was never far from her mother’s side; but because Polly was young, she was easy in her company. By noon clothes were drying on the line. The sheets and towels Jane had used for Doc were boiling in a black iron pot, and a noon meal of beef and rice was on the table.

  Polly had told Maude about the doctor not being able to swallow the mush. She suggested they make a broth he could drink. Polly sent Herb to get a cut of beef from the cookhouse. After it had simmered on the stove for a couple of hours, the broth was poured off and seasoned with bay leaves and sage. Doc drank half a cup, then lay back exhausted.

  The morning passed quickly for Jane. She had not only copied T.C.’s letter to his solicitor but she had also written three more and entered a staggering stack of bills in a ledger. It was work she liked to do. In between, she had run up the stairs to check on the doctor, bandaged a smashed finger, talked to a mother about a colicky baby and suggested a sugar-tit with a drop of camphor oil. Later she had refused to pull a logger’s wisdom tooth and called T.C. in to do it.

  Since noon T.C. had been in and out of the house. After he checked in the freight from each of the wagons that lined the street, he brought the invoices to Jane.

  “I’ve got to be sure we’re getting every stove, every tool and every barrel we pay for. Freighters are famous for dropping off a little freight here and there. They go back for it later, take it to some out-of-the-way place, and sell it to someone who is well aware it’s stolen goods.”

  He leaned over Jane’s shoulder to show her where to list the inventory. Her hair brushed his cheek. He only had to turn his head and his nose would burrow into the fragrant mass. He had an almost uncontrollable desire to touch her, but didn’t. Instead he stood behind her for a minute longer than necessary and looked down on her bent head, at the soft curls at the nape of her slender neck, at her finely etched profile. An unexplained feeling of longing shot through him. The feeling was so strong that he lifted a hand to stroke her hair, then let it drop back to his side and went quickly out the door.

  Jane left the office at sundown and spent the rest of the daylight hours sitting beside Doc’s bed. She told him all that had occurred during th
e day. He laughed when she told him about her remedy for the colicky baby.

  “Couldn’t a done better myself.”

  “I gave her some sugar with a few drops of camphor oil in it to take home.”

  “Are you getting pay?”

  “No! I couldn’t take pay. I’m no doctor.”

  “Harrumpt! Folks don’t value anything they don’t pay for even if it’s a nickel.”

  “These are poor folk, Nathan.”

  “I’ve treated plenty of poor folk and have come away with a half-dozen eggs, a sack of beans or a fried pie”

  “What do you think of Maude Henderson and her little girl?” “Don’t like ‘em.”

  “That’s unkind. She’s a nice woman and I think she’s had a peck of trouble in her life. Why didn’t you like her?”

  “She was all right, but she wasn’t you.”

  “Nathan! You’re the limit!”

  He lifted his hand and let it drop back to the bed.

  “I wish I had life to live over again.”

  “You certainly haven’t wasted your life, Nathan. Not many men can say that during their lifetime they saved hundreds of lives.”

  “If I’d met a woman like you, I’d have married her and had sons and daughters to grieve for me.”

  “You’ve got Herb… and you’ve got me and Mr. Kilkenny. Children don’t get to choose their parents, but we’ve all chosen you. I’ll miss you, Nathan.” In spite of her resolve not to cry, tears flooded her eyes.

  “Now… now—I’m torn between telling you to dry up and to keep on bawling. My mother was the last woman to cry over me.”

  “When was that?”

  “I must have been eight or ten.” He gasped and clutched at the bedclothes. “Give me the laudanum—”

  Jane diluted the drug with a small amount of water and held his head and shoulders up off the pillow while he drank it.

  “If I’m lucky, I’ll not wake up.” He closed his eyes.

  Jane sat down, took his hand in hers and let the tears run unchecked.