The Listening Sky (27 page)

Colin lounged in the doorway. “That’s goin’ to be pretty hard to do, friend.”

“Yeah? Well, you watch me.” T.C. knocked on the door, then opened it. “Is she dressed?”

“Yes. Come in.”

Jane was in the nightdress she had worn the night he went to Doc’s room. Ignoring his presence, she stood quietly as Sunday
rubbed the ends of her damp hair with a towel. Her eyes were red-rimmed and focused on a spot on the wall. Deep scratches
marked her cheeks, her forehead and the backs of her hands.

“How is she?”

Sunday shook her head in a silent warning before she spoke.

“She’s got a big lump on her head, but the cut’s not deep. We’ve done ‘bout all we can tonight. We’ll take her up to bed.
I’ll stay tonight if ya want me too.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll take care of her.” T.C. crossed the room and swung Jane up into his arms. She made no protest
and let her head drop to his shoulder. He strode across the hall to his room. Before he entered he said, “Find another place
to sleep tonight, Colin.” He went inside and kicked the door shut with his foot.

“Well, don’t
that
beat all?” Sunday stood in the kitchen doorway with her hands on her hips. Her dress was wet down the front, her blond ringlets
a tangled mess as usual.

Tennihill headed for the door.

“Our Mr. Kilkenny’s got a bad case of heart trouble, I’m thinkin’. I better pull foot. It might be catchin’. ‘Night, folks.”

T
HE
room was dark.

Jane threw her arms around the neck of the warm body holding her and clung tightly.

“No… no… no…—”

“Don’t be scared. You’re all right, sweet girl. Just hold on tight—” T.C. murmured to her. “Nothing will hurt you.”

When she felt herself being lowered to the bed and the arms pull away, she panicked and cried out.

“Don’t go!”

“I’m going to light the lamp and get covers for you. You’re shaking.”

“Don’t go!”

“All right. I won’t leave you.” T.C. sat down on the side of the bed with her on his lap.

An implacable hatred for the one who had done this to her caused droplets of sweat to break out on his forehead.

Her arms were locked around him as if he were an anchor and she were being swept to sea. She couldn’t seem to get close enough
to him. Her face burrowed in the curve of his neck and she shook violently. T.C. felt the heavy hand of fear as he realized
she might be sinking deeper into that black mindless void.

He put his hand over her ear and pressed her head to his shoulder.

“Colin!” he bellowed.

The door opened almost instantly and a ribbon of light shone from the hallway. Colin, with Sunday behind him, came into the
room.

“Light the lamp. She’s scared to death.”

“Don’t look at me.”

Quite suddenly she was soundlessly and helplessly crying. Her silent agony was something T.C. could hardly endure.

“I won’t, love. Shhhh—Don’t cry.”

Colin lit the lamp and light flooded the room. He turned the wick down until there was no smoke going up the chimney, then,
with his hand on Sunday’s back urged her to the door.

“I’ve got to cover you, honey.” T.C. placed tender kisses on her forehead. “Your hands and feet are like ice.”

“I’m so… bad—”

“Bad? You’re not bad! You’re good and sweet. The sweetest woman I ever knew.”

“Bad… blood—”

“No. no—There’s no such thing as bad blood.”

“I’m… dirt… filth—”

“You’re not” He felt her confusion, heard it in the unsteady murmur of her words. “Trust me, sweetheart. You’re a smart, spunky,
pretty girl and… and I love you—”

The words came out without T.C. planning to say them. Saying them aloud shocked him. But he knew, without doubt, that he was
deeply, irreversibly in love with the woman he held in his arms. He had not known the feeling of being in love, had not known
what to expect, but he knew that this was it.

She didn’t speak after that. He didn’t know if she had heard him. After a while he stood with her in his arms, turned, and
lowered her to the bed. Her eyes, smoky blue and pleading, looked into his.

“Don’t… leave me—”

“I’m not leaving. I’m getting a blanket.”

He lifted the long flow of damp hair and spread it out on the pillow. Her eyes followed him as he crossed the room then returned
to her. He covered her with the blanket, pulling it up to her chin. Her eyes never left his face. When he sat down on the side
of the bed, her hand came out from under the blanket and reached for his. She was still in shock.

With eyes wide open, she no longer looked at his face, but at the hand that was holding hers carefully so as not to irritate
the scratches on the back. After a while she stopped shivering. Her eyelids finally drooped and she fell asleep.

The skinned side of her face was exposed to the light. The marks from the stick would be there for days. With trembling fingers
T.C. pushed the damp hair back from her neck. He had seen plenty of cruelty before, but God in heaven, this was a different
kind. Whoever did this meant to humiliate her beyond her endurance, to shame her to the point where she would cower, hide
and possibly lose her reasoning.

She had not been aware, he was sure, of what she had said to him. Those words had come from the depths of her despair. For
days she had held up her head and gone about the task of taking care of Doc with the threats hanging over her. No wonder she
had been so desperate to leave town.

T.C. leaned over her and kissed her cheek.

“It’s over, sweetheart. You’ll not be alone again, and I promise you, I’ll find out who did this to you, and make them sorry
they ever lived.”

Looking back, T.C. could recognize the signs of her panic. She had not left the house once since she had arrived. Only at
his insistent urging had she gone for the walk with him that one evening. She had received the final note today, he believed,
sometime after the funeral, because she had talked and laughed with some of the people during and after the meal. She had
taken a woman and her child into the surgery and had given the mother some ointment for ringworm. He had heard her telling
a small group of women how to rid their children of head lice.

Tonight he didn’t want to think about who had done this to her. Tomorrow was time enough for that. Tonight he was going to
hold her in his arms all night long, and he didn’t care if the whole damn town knew it. He wanted her to know that she was
not alone and would never be alone again.

And tomorrow he was going to marry her. Her troubles would be his troubles. He unbuckled his belt, removed his clothing except
for his underdrawers, got into bed and took her into his arms. Her breasts were soft against his chest, her face fit in the
curve of his neck. His hand caressed her buttock and pressed her to him. She moved, mumbled, put her arm around him and snuggled
closer. Her legs were between his, her thigh tight against his sex.

The feeling he had for her now was of tenderness. He could wait for their physical mating. He wanted her to be well, to revel
with him in the delight of warm bare flesh against warm bare flesh.

“Sleep, little love,” he murmured with his lips against her hair.

“Guess ya’ll have to find ya another place to sleep.”

Using buckets, Sunday and Colin had emptied the bathtub and carried the water to the porch. Now Colin straddled a kitchen
chair and watched as she tidied the kitchen.

“You offerin’?” His eyes smiled into hers.

“Ha! And have that Mexican wildcat on my back?”

“She’s got no claim on me.”

“She thinks she has.”

“I
know
she don’t.”

Sunday hung the wet towels on a string that ran across the corner of the room. She turned, put her hands on her hips and looked
him straight in the eye.

“About offerin’ ya a place in my bed. No man gets in my bed, Mr. Tallman, till his name’s tacked on the end of mine.”

“Hummm… Good point.” Colin tilted his head and appeared to be studying the matter. “I don’t know if it’d be worth the price
I’d have to pay.”

A wet towel slammed into his face.

“I got a notion to pull my gun and shoot ya!” she spat out angrily, but when he looked at her, she was choking with laughter.

He got up off the chair. “You got a gun on ya?”

“Damn right. I don’t go nowhere at night without one. I might meet up with a two-legged varmint wearin’ a leather shirt and
knee-high moccasins.”

“Can you use it?” Colin began stalking her around the table.

“I can hit the eye outta a jackrabbit goin’ full speed.” She sidled on around to get behind a chair.

“I can do
that
with my eyes shut.”

“I can do it goin’ full speed standing on my head with my eyes shut.” She moved quickly when he reached for her.

His eyes went past her toward the door.

“Mrs. Henderson—”

Sunday looked over her shoulder and Colin pounced. He put his arms around her and held her against him. She struggled, but
not too much.

“Dang yore hide! That’s cheatin’.”

“Yeah. And it worked.”

“What worked?”

“Caught ya, didn’t r

“Why’d ya want to do that for?”

“I think you know.”

“’Course, I do.” She was smiling at him.

“I want to kiss you. Been wantin’ to for a long while.”

“Ya’ve only known me a week or two… or three.”

“Do you ever stop talkin’?”

“Not often. But there’s a way to stop me.” Her arms slid over his shoulders and around his neck.

His hand slipped up beneath her hair and stroked the nape of her neck. She was a tall woman. He had to bend his head only
slightly until his lips touched hers. She was surprised that his lips were so soft, so gentle, surprised at the pleasant drag
of his whiskers on her cheek. He held her head with his hand, working his fingers through her tangled curls while his lips
made little caressing movements against hers.

With a swift motion he dropped his hand to her back, pulled her tightly to him and deepened the kiss. He gave her no chance
to withdraw, and she wanted none. She gave herself up to his embrace, fitting her tall, slender body into every curve of his,
and returned his kiss passionately. She wanted it to go on, and it did for a long while.

They parted. She let her breath out slowly. She hadn’t wanted it to end. She looked into his eyes. He had not wanted it to
end either. She could see it reflected in the tense lines of his face.

“What’ a ya think now, Miss Sunday?”

“It was a… good kiss as kisses go… I guess.” She had meant to sound flip, but the words came out a strangled whisper. “How’d
it strike you?”

“I’ll have to do it again before I can say for sure if it was up to snuff.”

“I don’t want ya to be… frettin’ over it.”

The first touch of his lips had awakened a bittersweet ache of passion in her. A lovely feeling unfolded in Sunday’s midsection
as she allowed herself the pure joy of pressing her body from her knees to her breast tightly against his unyielding hardness.
There was the union of soft lips and tongues as their mouths parted and clung with wild sweetness that held still the moments
of time.

When he drew back, his eyes slid hungrily over her face. She rose slightly on her toes and kissed him hard on the mouth.

“You liked it, huh?”

“I just wanted to give ya something back, Tallman.”

Their breaths mingled for an instant before he covered her mouth with his again. He held her tightly, knowing she was not
fragile and that she wanted the contact as much as he. This time he took his time with closed eyes and pounding heart. She
gave willingly, their bodies meshed, close and warm and hard.

The kiss ended. Her head went to his shoulder and she leaned against him for a long moment.

“What ya think now?” she whispered.

“I think I’d better go find myself a place to sleep or I’ll be bayin’ at the moon.”

He felt her laughter against his chest and the warm puffs of breath against his neck.

“Do ya think I’m a pretty good kisser?”

“Not any better than me.”

She lifted her head to look at him. “You’ve had plenty of practice. The lips on that hot tamale over at the hotel’s got a
permanent pucker.”

“I kissed her a few times. Who taught you?”

“One other man has kissed me and he married my sister. I lucked out. He turned out to be a pickled poot.”

Colin laughed. She was the most wonderful, exciting woman he’d ever met. Open and honest. His mother would love her.

“He taught ya good.”

“Bullfoot! He didn’t teach me nothin’. You did.”

“I’m a better teacher than I thought. I’d better give you another lesson.”

“Ya kiss me like ya did the last time and I’ll crawl right inside yore skin. We’d better put a damper on kissin’ for a while
and figure out where yo’re goin’ to sleep.”

“I’ll throw a bedroll down in T.C.’s office after I walk you back to the rooming house.”

They left the kitchen and walked toward the door.

“Haven’t heard a squeak outta T.C. and Jane,” Sunday said as they passed T.C.’s door, went out the front door and stepped
into the night. “Tongues’ll wag if it gets out she spent the night in his bed.”

“He won’t care a whit about that.”

“He was riled up, that’s sure.”

“He couldn’t have fallen any harder if I’d hit him in the head with a hammer. I’ve not seen him in such a state before. He
was as worked up as a dog passin’ peach seeds.”

Sunday’s laugh floated on the still night. “Ya made a funny, Colin.”

His laughter joined hers. “Wouldn’t a been funny to the dog.”

They strolled on down the street toward the rooming house, unaware that a pair of hate-filled eyes followed them.

Another pair of eyes stared at a dark ceiling. The head on the pillow shook in silent laughter. Finally the eyes closed in
peaceful sleep. An unstable mind was satisfied with the night’s work.

Jane was dreaming.

“You wicked, wicked girl!” Mrs. Gillis, in her high-necked black dress, stood over the small girl cowering in the corner.
Her thin lips were pressed in the familiar line of disapproval. Her arms were folded across her flat chest. “You did not empty
the chamber pot as you were told to do.