Blessing Page 23

  Uley recognized Laura’s shrill whisper. She pushed the cat off her lap, ran to the window and threw open the curtains. “Laura? What is it?”

  Even in the moonlit darkness, Uley could see Laura’s distended nose, the bruised, cut skin surrounding her eyes. She ran to the door, unfastened it and met her friend in the side yard. “Who did that?”

  “Nobody you know. Just a customer.”

  “You’ve got to see Doc Gillette.”

  “No. I don’t. Moll was planning to take me tomorrow, but I’m not gonna go. And if you take me, then Moll will come here looking.”

  Uley took Laura by the hand and led her inside. “Here. You lie on my bed. I’ll put a warm cloth on you. We’ve got warm water on the stove.”

  “That’ll make it feel better.”

  Storm was waiting on the bed for Uley to return. Laura climbed up on the covers and stroked the animal sadly. “I had to leave Joe behind.” Finally she allowed herself to cry. “She’d have been caterwauling all the way down the street. Moll would have caught me sneaking away for sure.”

  Sam came to Uley’s room. “What’s going on in there?”

  “Laura’s here, Pa,” Uley told him. “She’s hurt real bad.”

  “I’m not, either,” Laura said as she climbed into Uley’s bed and covered herself with the quilt. “It’s just sore in my heart is all. But I’ll heal up.” How well Uley knew the truth, though. Heart wounds often went much deeper, took longer to heal, than bodily ones.

  Sam pushed open the door to see his daughter stroking Laura across the forehead with a warm cloth.

  “That hurt?” Uley asked when Laura winced.

  “Don’t ask that question. It ought to never hurt when a friend’s workin’ on you, should it?”

  “Even so,” Uley said softly, “sometimes it does.”

  Sam sat on the bed beside them. “Does anyone know what this man did to you?”

  “Yeah. They all do. He’s locked up in the jailhouse right now. It isn’t as bad as it looks. He just knocked me around, is all.” Laura grabbed Uley’s hand and sat straight up. “I’m not going back to that place, Uley. I can’t do it.”

  “You’ll stay here with us,” Sam said. “We’ll take you in. Some decent man in this town’ll give you a job and you can start a new—” But both Laura and Uley were shaking their heads at him.

  “It won’t work that way, Pa.”

  “Joseph Devendish down at the bank is looking for somebody. Maybe he’ll give her a job.”

  “No.” Uley stood up and went to hug her father. “Nobody’ll hire her because she’s a hurdy-gurdy girl. We’ve already tried once without telling anybody. The men in this town may be rough themselves, but they’re awful ready to judge everybody else, too.”

  “They’ll look down their noses at me like I’m something rotten.” Laura gathered Storm up next to her, finding little comfort from the cat’s nearness. “I think they’d rather not have any money at all than have me counting it or givin’ it out at the bank.”

  Uley had long since illuminated the lantern. She walked to the mirror hanging over the bureau and gazed at her own face. It was the first time in months she’d looked upon herself with candle-light flaming and reflecting in her own eyes. Always, she’d gauged her feminine appearance by filtered moonlight. Because of her friend’s need, she saw herself now, saw who she’d become. Uley made her decision, the one she’d known was coming, the decision that would end her charade.

  Can I be myself in front of You, Lord, the same way I was able to be myself with Aaron? Would You give me the strength to let go of my own plans and accept Your plan for my life, Lord?

  She turned to face the two of them. “I’ve been promising a long time that you and I could go to Aunt Delilah’s place, Laura. I think the time’s come for you and me to start things over in Ohio.”

  Despite her injuries, Laura practically leapt from the bed. “You mean it? You’d go with me? You’d take me there, Uley?”

  “Yes.” Uley turned back to the mirror, thinking of Aaron, thinking of everything she longed to give him, everything she kept hidden away. Aaron deserved everything a woman who loved him could give him. He deserved a woman like Beth. “I’ll go with you to Ohio.”

  Sam rose from the bed. “Uley? You want to go back?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you do, I’ll take you.”

  But Uley shook her head at him, her thick red braid flopping against her shoulder. “There’s no need, Pa. I’ll travel as a fellow, just the way I’ve been living these past years. Everybody’ll think me and Laura are married. We’ll get on without any trouble at all.”

  “I never wanted it to be that way.”

  “You don’t have any choice, Pa. You and Ma came here to find a fortune. I won’t let you give it up now. Not after all of us have sacrificed so much. There’s a supply wagon leaves here tomorrow. If we’re on it, Moll won’t be able to stop Laura.”

  “But you’ll need supplies. And money to pay your passage.”

  “I’ve got the money.” Laura reached for her yellow calico, held up the leather pouch. “Lesser Levy made sure of that.”

  “I’ll come back to Tin Cup someday, Pa,” Uley said. “But things will be different next time. I’m sure of it.”

  Even so, Uley knew she wouldn’t be back soon enough for Aaron. He wouldn’t wait for her return. He’d proven himself trustworthy to her time after time again. Uley knew that, above all else, he needed a woman in his life who could stand beside him right away, the kind of woman who would make him feel like a treasure.

  Uley could never be that woman here in Tin Cup.

  He’ll forget me soon. But I’ll never forget him. Not for a minute. I will love him always.

  “Uley,” Pa said. Then he used her real given name. It was the first time he’d allowed it to escape his lips since she was fourteen and they laughed about it on the Overland Trail. “My dearest Julia.”

  She took her father’s hands and held them. “I know.”

  “How can I let you do this?”

  But she found no words. She shook her head at him, tears pooling in her eyes. “Laura’s my friend, Pa.”

  Laura wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and came toward them both. “It’s asking too much, Uley.”

  Uley shook her head. “It’s more than that, too. Pa and I both know it. And so do you.”

  The lantern light flickered in the unshed tears in her father’s eyes. “I’ve known this had to come ever since I took her away from Delilah the first time. It just wasn’t proper, what we did.”

  “It might not have been proper, but it was right, Pa. We were family. We still are. And Ma gave up everything for what you dreamed of.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Her father gazed out the window toward the silver-lit moon beyond, his features softening in sorrow and love, as if he were gazing upon his wife’s face one last time. “Don’t I just think I know it.” He turned to his daughter. “You’re gonna be needing her things.”

  Harris Olney was beginning to have regrets about how he’d built his jailhouse. He hadn’t exactly made the place easy to break out of. Now, why had he worked so hard to build heavy iron bars? It made it so a man had to stay put. Only trouble was, he’d never figured the man having to stay put might be himself.

  He had no idea of the time. He only knew that dusk had dropped into deep night. He stared out at the black sky, grumbling, “Sure not gonna let it end this way.”

  He’d already examined the dirt floor and the pine wall. He figured going at it that way would be hopeless. He could dig himself out if he had seven more nights and something inconspicuous to put over the hole. The problem was, he didn’t have that long. The way public opinion seemed to be against him these days, Olney figured he only had about three nights—at best.

  The other option he considered was bribing Ben Pearsall. As marshal, he’d taken his share of bribes. Harris Olney figured that in time Old Ben would succumb to the temptation of easy
money. The problem here was, he’d be approaching him on his first full day as marshal. That wouldn’t sit well with him. Pearsall was still proud of that new shiny star. It would take something or somebody mighty potent to make Pearsall forget he was wearing it.

  Nope. Bribery wouldn’t work, either.

  The timing here was all wrong.

  Olney lay on the squeaky cot, trying his best to get some sleep. He could see straight up out of the window, straight up out at freedom.

  He figured he’d done the wrong thing.

  He figured he should never have let his longing for that Cache la Poudre treasure get tangled up with everything he’d started feeling for Elizabeth Calderwood. He’d killed a few men in his life, but never one of his friends. When he’d been alone in the wilderness with Fred, he’d looked at the spindly man hunched over the fire and he’d thought, He’s the only thing standing in my way. He’s the only thing keeping me from all that money. And he’s the only thing keeping me from Beth.

  It used to be, when he gazed up at the stars, he saw Beth’s eyes. Now he saw Fred’s, glaring down at him from a spot way above heaven. He guessed he’d always see them there. But he didn’t feel sorry for what he’d done. He didn’t feel remorse. He’d gone after what he wanted, and he’d go after what he wanted again.

  Tonight, what he wanted was to get out of this jail cell.

  He had no idea what time Ben Pearsall brought the second prisoner in. He heard a ruckus in the front office, a medley of irate voices that he couldn’t quite make out.

  “You ain’t got no right to keep me here. I ain’t under the jurisdiction of this county.”

  “When you spit, sir, please use the spittoon.”

  “I’ll spit anywhere I please. You cain’t hold me in Gunnison County. You the new marshal, ain’t you? I saw you appointed this morning. You’re as green behind the ears as a sapling in springtime.”

  Ben marched to the holding cell with a huge, bearded fellow ahead of him.

  “You just test me,” Pearsall snarled as he unlocked the cell door. “You just see how green I am.”

  Pearsall shoved him inside and slammed the door shut.

  Harris Olney sat up on the cot. “Welcome home.”

  “Hey!” the new prisoner bellowed. “There’s only one cot in here. I need one, too. I’ve got to get sleep. I’ve had a bad night.”

  Marshal Pearsall stood outside the cell, his hands planted firmly upon the butts of two gleaming six-shooters. “You’re under the jurisdiction of Tin Cup, Colorado, Henry Mortimus. In Tin Cup, we can only afford one cot. Never had two prisoners at the same time before. You two fellas are just gonna have to share.”

  He turned to walk away.

  “I don’t say’s how I like Tin Cup’s hospitality,” Mortimus roared to his back.

  “Good,” Ben said, without looking back. “Once I get rid of you, I won’t have to worry about you ever turning up here again.”

  Harris waited until he heard Ben settling in at the desk before he staked his claim. “I helped build this jail.” He lay back down again, doing his best to appear settled. He knew he wouldn’t sleep tonight. But, even if he couldn’t, he sure was going to pretend it. “I’m not giving up this cot.”

  “If I had my gun,” Mortimus said, “I’d just have to shoot you.”

  “Well, you don’t have a gun, so you’re out of luck.”

  “This town is the most mixed-up outfit I’ve ever seen,” the bearded man said.

  “So, what’re you in here for?” Now that Olney had claimed the cot, he relaxed a bit.

  “Nothing important,” Mortimus told him, squatting on the ground in the corner and groaning because he couldn’t get comfortable. “You’d think with all the gold in the hills over yonder, the government could afford two cots.”

  “They’ve never had two prisoners before.”

  Mortimus eyed Olney. “You’re the old marshal, ain’t you?”

  “I am.”

  “I’ll tell you right now, I don’t like people who think they’re better than me.”

  “Guess that means we don’t like each other, then.”

  “Guess that’s what it means.”

  They stared at each other for a minute, like two prize bulls assessing each other across a pasture.

  Olney finally broke the impasse. “You didn’t say what you were in for.”

  “I roughed up one of your tarnished birds, that’s what I did. I found one I knew from a long time back, and I didn’t much like her attitude.”

  “Which one?”

  “Ain’t telling you. I figure you’ve murdered plenty of men yourself. Ain’t giving you a reason to murder me, too. Everybody in that place got so upset. One fellow even calf-roped me. I cain’t figure why everybody would put so much value on a two-bit red-dressed hurdy-gurdy girl.”

  Olney sat up, thumping his two boots onto the floor. “Red-dressed? Was it Laura? Tin Can Laura’s the only one who wears that color over there.”

  “Yep.”

  Olney started getting red in the face. “You roughed up Laura?”

  “See what I mean?” Mortimus asked. “Nobody cares how we treat them over across Alpine Pass. Then I get over here, find her and there’s all this fuss.”

  “You keep your hands off Tin Can Laura.”

  “She roughed me up pretty bad, too. About broke my nose, she did. Hit me with her fists and kicked me. That’s why I’m wishing for that cot. Parts of me are hurt purty bad.”

  Harris Olney grinned. It was a great, wide grin the likes of which nobody’d seen since Aaron Brown had come to town.

  “Tell you what.” He moved away from the coveted canvas contraption and motioned to it with both arms, the very picture of the genteel host motioning a guest to his best accommodations.

  Mortimus eyed him suspiciously. “Why don’t you get a good night’s sleep on this thing?”

  “What’re you doing that for? You’re sure experiencing a change of heart.”

  Olney clapped him on the back. “I’m not going to sleep, anyway. No sense wasting the nicest bed in the house.”

  “You want something out of me, don’t you?”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Because I know fellows like you. I know fellows who don’t give up their position unless it serves them some good.”

  “Well, you got me figured right.” Olney sat down in the corner of the cell and stretched his legs, letting out a rush of breath as he did so. “I do want something.”

  Mortimus didn’t sit down. “I guess you’d best tell me what it is.”

  “I want us to help each other.”

  “Help each other with what?”

  “I’ve got unfinished business to attend to,” Olney explained, a good deal of sarcasm in his voice. “I’ve got to be away from this jailhouse sometime tomorrow morning. I figure you have about as good a reason as I do to want to bust out of this place.”

  Generally, summer thunderstorms didn’t rumble into the high mountains around Tin Cup until the end of an afternoon, boiling up over the Divide, fueled by the intense midday sun. The rain usually fell fast, cooling and cleansing everything in the valley with thick, settling drops. Fifteen minutes later, as quickly as the afternoon rains gathered and fell, they dissipated.

  But today’s storm came in a different fashion.

  Everybody who knew the weather said that if a storm hit before ten in the morning, it’d last the rest of the day. This storm crescendoed down into the valley just after daybreak, thunder echoing across the gold hill before most of the guests at Aunt Kate Fischer’s had even finished their breakfast.

  Aaron donned his Stetson and a jacket, knowing full well he’d be soaked by the time he completed his morning errands.

  Beth walked into Aunt Kate’s kitchen, her apron bow tied prettily at the small of her back, carrying a pile of dirty breakfast plates. “You going out in the rain?”

  “Figure so. I’m planning to talk to Otto Violet. I need to get him to
begin proceedings before Harris Olney can escape from that jailhouse.” Aaron had other plans, too, but he wasn’t going to tell Beth about them. Yesterday afternoon, he’d passed the window at C. A. Freeman’s and seen a lace parasol on display. He’d lain awake all night, wondering how much it cost, wondering if he dared purchase it for Uley. This morning he’d decided to examine it.

  Not that he cared a fiddle bow to a fence post whether Uley Kirkland carried finery such as that. She seemed everything wonderful to him just the way she was, as unaffected and fresh as dawn. But he wanted her to be happy more than anything, wanted her to have everything her heart desired. He’d seen the flashes of pain that often came into her eyes. Before the day was over, Uley would have her parasol. He didn’t care if she had to hide it beneath her bed for the rest of her living days.

  Beth stood before him. “You getting tired of serving men their breakfast? You can go back to Fort Collins, you know. You don’t have to stay here waiting on me now.”

  She set the pile of plates down on the washboard and flicked soapy water at him. “You think I’m going to miss all the excitement?”

  “You’re getting me wet.”

  “You’ll get wetter outside.”

  “But the water’ll be coming down from the sky, not straight on into my face.” He turned to go.

  Beth stopped him. “Aaron?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry about saying you were after Wishbone Mabel. I thought it would help things at the trial.”

  “It would have,” he told her, “if I’d have let it stand.”

  “I know. And I thought… I just didn’t know.” She hesitated. She didn’t know exactly how to say it. “From all the questions you asked me…”

  “Certainly. It made sense, didn’t it?”

  “Sounded to me like you were getting sweet on somebody. When John Kincaid talked about Mabel, it seemed to fit together. But after that trial and what you did there, I can’t make anything fit together anymore.”

  Aaron stood in the doorway, holding his hat on his head with one hand, trying to decide how to explain it to her. But he couldn’t. He had a promise to keep. “There’s twenty hungry men out there waiting on you to come back with plates full of eggs and sausage. I figure you’d best quit worrying about making everything fit and get back to serving breakfast. There isn’t much going on here that will ever make sense.”