Under Starry Skies

by Judy Ann Davis

  “And you’re lucky you didn’t land on your head.” Marcus withdrew a cigar. “Don’t you think it’s strange a miller couldn’t swim well enough to save himself? I don’t know, Tydall. It sounds fishy.” He chuckled and withdrew a match and struck it against the sole of his boot. “Do you know why it’s so easy to weigh fish?”

  Tye shook his head. “I have no idea, Marcus, and don’t light that foul-smelling cigar!”

  “Because they have their own scales.” He laughed at his own joke. “Get it?”

  Tye sucked in a long breath of air. Why, oh why, did Ma and Pa give him a brother who thought he was Mark Twain? His brother’s humor was a penance they all had to endure. He watched his brother light the cigar despite his warning. “I thought you gave up smoking those smelly Havanas.”

  “Anna gave them up for me. She hates the smell. Take pity on your poor brother, will you? She won’t let me smoke in the house and chases me out behind the barn.” Marcus took a puff and blew out a series of smoke rings as his gaze circled the ranch yard and fell upon the barn. He stared at the front corner curiously. “You’re going to need help with the foundation. Corner’s sagging again.”

  “Yes, when you and Flint have a free afternoon I could use some help. Each time the rains come, they wash it out just a tad more.”

  Marcus nodded and laughed. “And I know who doesn’t want to crawl under it and see what needs repaired.” It was an ongoing family joke about Tye’s distaste of small, dark places. “By the way, Betsy had me drop off a bag of chicken feed for Maria. Guess you finally got around to getting her those chickens she’s been hankering for. Really romantic, Tydall.”

  Baffled, Tye squinted at Marcus. “I didn’t get Maria any chickens.”

  “Oh-ooo, blast it all! Sorry, little brother. My mistake.” Marcus’s face turned a vivid shade of red, and he looked like he wanted to jump out of his skin and onto his horse as quickly as possible. Cigar clamped between his teeth, he moved to his mount, untied the reins from the top rail, and quickly changed the subject. “Anna’s making a roast and all the fixings for dinner tomorrow evening if you’re needin’ a good meal under your belt.”

  Tye clapped his brother on the shoulder, attempting to ease his brother’s embarrassment and his own. “Tell Anna, thanks, but I have other plans.” He paused and looked at the sky, then leveled his eyes at his brother. “How did you and Flint know you wanted to share the rest of your lives with Anna and Julia?”

  A low rumble erupted from Marcus large chest. “Well, to be honest, Anna and I knew right off from the start. There was an immediate attraction to each other. But Flint had to jump through a few hoops to convince Julia she was in love with him. Is Maria giving you some grief? Didn’t she like the shawl?”

  “Trying to catch Maria is like grabbing a fistful of air,” Tye said sourly. “She says she was hired to teach, and she’s afraid a relationship might get her fired. She’s so damn independent! I don’t reckon gifts are the answer.”

  “Oh, swell.” Marcus sighed. “Why is it all the women we get tangled up with have that peculiar trait? Maybe there’s something wrong with us?” He chuckled. “I’ll tell you what I told Flint once, give her a little room. Everything is new to her and her sister. Maybe she’s just afraid of any type of commitment. Help her to fall in love with the town and the land so she’s comfortable falling in love with you.”

  “That’s what old Theo Sarowski said. Right now, Marcus, she has me so confused, my brain feels like scrambled eggs.”

  “Humph, that’s a sure sign you’re in love.” He slapped his brother playfully on the shoulder. “Try not to scare her with your shenanigans, brother, and try to stay out of trouble.”

  “I try, but it seems to always follow me.”

  Offering Tye a hopeless shake of his head, Marcus mounted and headed toward a small a lane leading to his ranch just over the rise. Tye watched him until he vanished from sight, leaving a trail of dust from the path and a cloud of smoke from this cigar. The idea of someone giving Maria some chickens gnawed at his thoughts as he returned to his chores and sent a wave of jealousy spiraling through him.

  ****

  As soon as she arrived home from school, Maria gathered up a blanket, McGuffey’s Pictorial Primer, some pencils and paper, and two corn muffins Marcus had dropped off with the chicken feed. She headed out the back door and around to the backside of the shed where Two Bears was already waiting. He had taken a bath, and his long, jet black hair gleamed in the sunlight and was pulled back and tied with a white strip of cloth at the nape of his neck. He wore buckskin trousers with high soft leather moccasins like Tye often wore. A rifle, a ring flask, and a tattered blanket lay beneath a nearby blackberry bush. He stood as soon as she approached.

  Maria smiled. “I see you are an eager student, Two Bears.”

  The Indian returned her smile with a toothless grin. “I see you also watch the sun and know the days grow short, Ma-ree-a.”

  Maria handed him all the things in her arms and took the blanket, spreading it on the rock before she sat and motioned for him to do the same. “Tell me, Two Bears, did you leave chickens at my back door?”

  His dark penetrating eyes were sharp and assessing. He searched her face and said quietly, “I did not steal them, white teee-cher, if that is what you are thinking.”

  “I didn’t say you did,” she rejoined and returned his stare. “Where did you get them?”

  “It was eee-easy. I took a wild horse to a farmer beside the ranch of Old Mrs. Sarowski, the mother of Joseph. Mrs. Sarowski is...what do you say, growing loco?”

  “Getting senile,” Maria corrected him.

  “Yes. Seeeeenile,” he said the word slowly and nodded. “I helped her to get home when she picked berries this summer and was lost. But she is not seeenile. She is smart. She can speak pole fish and rushing. She just gets turned around when she is in the woods and doesn’t watch the sun. She would not make a good tracker.”

  “Probably not. And yes, I believe she can speak Polish and Russian,” Maria said the words slowly to him.

  He nodded. “Yes, this is so. Did you know she can play one of those things you squeeze and music comes out?” He held his hands out and opened and closed them palms touching.

  “Yes, an accordion. Let’s get back to the chickens,” Maria urged.

  “Oh, yes. I traded horse for a pig and young calf. Old Mrs. Sarowski needed the calf. One of her cows is old like she is. I took calf to her. Jul-ee-a Gast Ashmore needed a pig. I took pig to her. Mrs. Sarowski wanted pottery. Jul-ee-a gave Mrs. Sarowski pottery, and Old Mrs. Sarowski gave her chickens. Julia gave me chickens for the pig.”

  Maria stared at him thunderstruck. She rubbed her forehead and felt a dull headache coming on. “You started with a horse, got a pig and calf, had Julia trade pottery for the chickens, then she traded the chickens back to you as payment for the pig?”

  Two Bears nodded and smiled. “Yes, that is so. See? That is how Two Bears got the chickens.” He thumped his chest. “Eeea-sy. You like?”

  Maria raised an eyebrow and shook her head disbelievingly. “Yes, I like the chickens. Thank you, Two Bears.” She handed him the muffins wrapped in a cloth napkin. He quickly withdrew one and sniffed it.

  “These are for me?”

  She nodded. “Corn muffins.”

  “You baked these?”

  She shook her head. “Anna Ashmore did. And we need to begin so we don’t lose light. How did you do with the letters I gave you at the school house?” She listened and was pleasantly surprised at how easily and fluently he repeated them.

  He handed her the practice paper, and she wrote the final thirteen letters, instructing him on the sounds of each. Finally, she gave him McGuffey’s Pictorial Primer and showed him how the pictures would help him to recognize words.

  “I think that’s enough for today,” she said an hour and a half later and rose.

  He also stood, his expression serious. “Are you still Tye Ashmore’s squaw
?”

  “Squaw?”

  “Woman. Are you his woman?”

  “Yes, we are seeing each other.” She groaned, thinking how she sounded like a piece of property to be bought, sold, or traded.

  “That is too bad,” Two Bears lamented. “All the Ashmore men get beautiful women. Your hair is like the color of mink. Dark and soft.” He reached out and touched her hair that fell over her shoulder, then gently placed his hand on her forearm. “Listen to me,” he said solemnly. “That man who runs the stables at the end of your path, do you know him well?”

  “Lang Redford?” she asked. “Tall and thin? Yes, I know him.”

  Two Bears nodded and withdrew his hand. He sliced the air with the edge of his palm. “He is not a good man, Ma-ree-a. Be careful! He carries a gun inside his coat you cannot see. I have watched him from a distance. I do not like him. He has bad people who work for him.”

  “Thank you, Two Bears. I’ll be sure my doors are locked and that I’m not alone with him.”

  “He also had a knife in his boot.”

  “As do half the men in this town, Two Bears. Tye Ashmore, too. I see you are not wearing one in yours.”

  “I did not want to scare white teacher.” He looked at his pile of belongings, and Maria knew he had stashed his knife underneath the blanket. “You need to learn to shoot, Ma-ree-a.”

  Maria shook her head vehemently. “Oh, no. Tye Ashmore tried to teach me. I don’t like guns.”

  The Utes’s face was serious. His voice was firm. “Betsy Ashmore taught Jul-ee-a. She can teach you. Ask her. You must do it soon.”

  She smiled. “I’ll think about it. Now go! I have dinner to prepare before my sister gets home from the inn.”

  “I will watch for the bucket and dipper.” Two Bears turned and in one fluid motion slipped away into the forest.

  Chapter Sixteen

  With only a cape thrown around her shoulders, Abigail hurried up the path leading to the Mule Shed in the early morning fog. Earlier, Amos and Charlie Haney had sent a young girl who worked in the kitchen to fetch her, saying they needed to speak with her immediately. She wondered what the problem might be. Charlie was a valued and loyal bartender whose experience she had come to trust in all matters concerning the bar and clientele. And Amos was more than a dedicated friend; he was family as far as Abby was concerned.

  She slipped into her office from the outside door, then into the hall, and onward into the back of the barroom. This time of the day was eerily quiet, except for the faint tinkling of glass. Only one guest was eating an early breakfast in the dining room. Charlie was behind the bar, drying and polishing glassware, and Amos was taking inventory of the liquor and wine. Both Amos and Charlie looked up when she entered. Worry marred their faces.

  “Please bring us a pot of coffee and some cream and sugar,” she instructed one of the girls from the kitchen staff and motioned for the men to come sit at a table near the doorway where she could see into the dining room, hall, and kitchen, and where they wouldn’t be disturbed or overheard. They ambled over and pulled out chairs, their faces glum. A serving girl returned quickly with a tray bearing coffee and cups.

  Amos excused the girl and poured them each a cup of coffee. “Tell me, Miss Abby, have you been taking money from the safe to pay for odd purchases, perhaps to supply missing stock for the kitchen?”

  When she shook her head, Charlie spoke, “Then I believe we have a thief, Miss Abby. Someone has been skimming money from the safe either early in the morning or very late at night when the bar is closed and no one is around.”

  “Has anyone touched the cash boxes?” Both the dining and the barroom staff had separate cash boxes to collect customers’ money. At the end of the day, it was collected, counted, and locked away in the safe. It had been Abigail’s idea to keep the money separate for convenience and accounting purposes.

  Amos shook his head. “Not that I can tell. All we know for sure is when we open the safe to replenish money for the bar and dining room for the start of the day, there’s money missing.”

  “How much?”

  Charlie Haney sat up straighter, leaned across the table, and spoke in a low voice. “At first, I thought it was my mistake and I was miscounting, so I had Amos double check the totals the past few weeks before I locked up. Some days, it’s none. Some days, it’s ten dollars or less. Other days, it’s more.”

  “Who besides Amos, you, and me know the combination to the safe?” She stirred some cream into her coffee.

  Both men shrugged this time. “Possibly your aunt Emma. But anyone might have seen us open it, and if they had a good eye, might have been able to figure out the combination,” Amos admitted. “Luckily, at the moment, whoever is doing it thinks we haven’t noticed. What I fear is he’ll get greedy and clean us out after a good night.”

  Abigail took a sip of coffee, then leaned back and sighed. “Well, we can’t let it happen. From now on, each of you divides the money. Drop one of the cash boxes at the cottage and lock the other in my office in my desk drawer. This person may have keys to the rooms as well.”

  “Then we can never find out who’s responsible for such a low down dirty trick,” Amos pointed out. “And the culprit will know we’re on to him.”

  “You’re right,” Abigail agreed. “Leave a few handfuls of bills inside the safe so it will look as if we’re using it. Let’s keep watching to see if it continues.” She smiled and patted Charlie on his hand. “Don’t worry, Charlie, I trust you. Just go about business as usual.”

  ****

  Despite the fact that Tye was supposed to come calling for her in less than a half hour, Maria sat on the edge of her bed amid a tangle of clothing. She had tried on every dress twice she and Abigail owned, and nothing seemed right for a first dinner together. She didn’t even know where they were dining which made the decision more frustrating.

  Abigail found her minutes later, clad only in her camisole and petticoat, wringing her hands and glum-faced. A hairbrush lay on the floor, along with an abandoned assortment of hairpins and ribbons.

  “Whatever is the matter with you? You’ve never been fickle before.” Hands on her hips, Abigail looked at the destruction Maria had done to her bedroom. “This room looks like it fell into the path of a strong northern gale.”

  “I can’t decide what to wear if I don’t know where we’re going,” she said with obvious distress in her voice. “Oh, Abigail, and I’ve never been in love before. I want to look perfect.”

  Abigail picked up the hairbrush. “You always look perfect. I have it from a reliable source you’ll be dining at Tye’s ranch house.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  Abigail smiled. “Oh, Maria, I have my sources. Brett is incapable of keeping a secret where Tye is concerned. Put on the pretty green gingham dress you remade from Emma’s and take my white shawl. But hurry, he’ll be here shortly.” She bent and collected the ribbons and handed them to her. “And leave your hair down and tied back, for heaven’s sake. You don’t need to look like an old maid with a lumpy bun planted on your head like a head of wilted cabbage.”

  At the door, Abigail stopped and turned back toward her sister. “Maria, by chance do you know of anyone who might know the combination to the safe in the barroom besides Amos, Charlie, and me?”

  Maria shook her head. Her hand stopped in midair from trying to untangle her hair. “Did you ask Aunt Emma?”

  “She’s the next person I intend to talk to.”

  “I’d love to hear that conversation.” Maria rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Oh, Abby, I hear a buggy. Quick, go stall Tye while I get ready!”

  Minutes later, Tye Ashmore arrived with a chestnut horse pulling a covered, one-seat black buggy. It rattled into the yard sending two of the hens squawking and scurrying to get out of his way. Abigail hurried out to meet him. He had discarded his usual buckskin clothing and was wearing a white shirt under a brown leather vest and dark brown trousers to match his hand-tooled boots. Abig
ail noticed his gun was still strapped to his hip and a buckskin jacket was thrown on the seat of the buggy. “Maria needs a few more minutes,” she said. “She is usually very punctual, but she had trouble deciding what to wear. She didn’t have a clue as to where she’d be dining.”

  He nodded, saying nothing, leaning against the buggy.

  Exasperated, Abigail continued, “You know, you two could spend a little more time conversing about details.” When she got a nod and silent gaze again, she waved both hands in the air. “Oh, for goodness sake, Tye Ashmore, if you had told her where you were going, it would have made her selection of dresses a little easier, and you wouldn’t be standing here staring at me like a big lout. You’ve sent her into a dither, and trust me, Maria doesn’t do dither very well.”

  This time he smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Oh, what the devil am I thinking? You both are hopeless!” She flounced back into the house.

  “Thanks for helping,” he called out after her. She turned, and he motioned to the back of the buggy where two picnic baskets were perched behind the seat. “Your kitchen staff at the Mule Shed have outdone themselves.”

  “My pleasure, I hope you enjoy it,” she replied and disappeared into the house.

  ****

  The late autumn afternoon was bright and clear when Maria climbed into the buggy with its plush upholstered red leather seats. Fluffy white clouds hung in the sky, and the air was unusually warm and balmy for autumn as they passed through town on their way to the Ashmore ranch. Tye was unusually pensive, lost in his own thoughts. They continued onward along a small country road lined with a canopy of brush and trees blocking out the sun and allowing only filtered light to penetrate. Around them, everything fell silent, except the gentle clip clop of the horse’s hooves on the hard-packed ground.

  Finally he spoke, “I see you now have chickens.”

  “Yes, and eggs and custard.” Maria nodded and bit back a threatening smile. Should she tell him about Two Bears? She quickly brushed the thought aside. It was best if her teaching endeavors with an Indian were kept a secret. The last thing she wanted was for the townsfolk to get wind of it. She could put her teaching position in jeopardy.