20
Abe rode back to Fury during the
beginning of the storm, galloping for the final third in hopes of
beating the worst of it. He cantered into town and to the livery in
time to see the sky gone black and feel the wind whipping his
clothes. His hat had blown clean off somewhere outside of town, but
he hadn’t had the heart or the time to look for it. It was likely
sailing over the Colorado River by this time.
The wagon train was still and silent,
and folks had tied themselves inside their Conestogas to avoid the
worst of the coming damage.
He passed through the gates and pulled
into the livery, and walked his horse up and down the aisle
countless times until he was satisfied that it was cooled off
sufficiently, and then he put the gelding in its stall and grained
and watered it. “Some storm, huh, Boy?” he asked, stroking the
horse’s dark-blue roan neck. “Well, guess I’d best get over and
tell Electa the good news!” he added, brightening.
He gave his horse a final pat, turned
up his collar, put his shoulder to the door, and shoved his way
outside into what had become a raging torrent.
He immediately wished he was back
inside with his horse. The air was full of flying, stinging pebbles
and bits of plants, and he couldn’t even tell which direction it
was coming from, it whirled so quickly! He felt, more than saw, his
way up the street to the schoolhouse, then struggled a bit with the
door.
Once in the cloakroom, where Electa
kept spare books and school supplies and the cleaning equipment, he
slumped on a bench and shook detritus from his hair. At least he’d
just had it cut the other day, so the damage to the floor wasn’t
too bad. But enough twigs and grit went flying that he took a quick
look in the mirror to make sure he didn’t look like the ghost of
Pecos Pete—or worse—before he went in to see his beloved
Electa.
When he had himself brushed off the
best he could, he cracked open the door to the schoolhouse proper,
and took a peek inside. Electa and Jenny were at opposite ends of
the blackboard, Electa writing out complicated mathematical
problems at her end, and Jenny writing out simpler problems on the
other, probably for the younger children.
He quietly stepped inside and took a
seat along the back wall, behind the students. There weren’t many
kids, probably twelve or fourteen, but there were enough of them to
keep two women on their toes. The two biggest boys passed something
between them, and he immediately stood and took a step
forward.
He held out his hand and stared the boy
in the eyes. The boy, who appeared to have been kept back a couple
of years somewhere along the way, made a face, hissed, “Shit!” and
handed over a pocketknife.
“Don’t swear,” Abe said, momentarily
forgetting where he was.
“Marshal Todd!”
He looked up to find Electa smiling at
him. “Miss Morton,” he said. “I wonder if I might have a word with
you?”
“Certainly,” she replied, and added,
“Children, will those of you to the left of the center aisle begin
working on these problems, and those to the right start work on
those that Miss Fury has just written out? I’ll be right outside,
Miss Fury.”
“Certainly, Miss Morton,” Jenny
replied, as a beaming Electa walked back toward Abe.
He couldn’t help himself. He was
beaming, too.
Jason was in his office, and all he
could think was, “Lord, not again!” He hadn’t even caulked the
doors or windows or floor yet!
It was three in the afternoon but it
was nearly as dark as midnight, and this time the rain had come in
with the wind, both of them hurrying and flurrying in rapid,
nonsensical, lopsided circles that could be as big as a house or as
small as his thumb, and all of it carrying the desert into Fury
with it.
The mild winters and the pleasant
year-round evenings aside, he sometimes hated Arizona. It was a
tricky place. Every which way you turned, the weather was out to
make a jackass out of you, to make you look foolish. Or worse, to
kill you just as surely as it had killed that fellow out in the
wagon train, the one with the cactus in his back. What was his
name? Frank something. Frank . . . Saulk, that was it, Frank Saulk.
They’d been planning to bury him today, along with poor Ward.
Practically the entire town was planning on turning out for the
funerals. Well, practically the entire town would have to stay
home, now.
Until tomorrow, anyway.
Jason couldn’t say that he was looking
forward to it. Tomorrow or its proceedings, either
one.
He’d had the bad luck to be standing
out on the walk, talking to Father Micah, when Abe came riding into
town and tucked himself up in the livery, and he was surprised that
he hadn’t shown up at the office by now. He wondered if Abe had
stopped off at the schoolhouse again. Was he paying court to Miss
Electa? It certainly wasn’t to Jenny, that he knew. Jenny wouldn’t
have—and couldn’t have—kept that a secret for more than two
seconds. But a fellow didn’t get all shaved and barbered and doused
in witch hazel to go see a bunch of kids, though, that was for
sure.
No, it was Miss Electa, he remembered
with a scowl and hit upside his own head. How could he have
forgotten something like that? All he could hope for was that Abe
wouldn’t move Electa out of Fury. Better, he’d move her inside it,
so she wouldn’t have that long ride in and out of town every day,
and so the town could keep its schoolmarm and Matt MacDonald could
have his own private goddamn police force.
This last bit, he thought with some
degree of violence, and kicked his desk leg, hard.
“Easy, boy,” he told himself when his
toe instantly began to throb and sting. “You don’t want to see your
desk go the way of your old chair.” He glanced at the stove’s wood
bin, still piled high with broken spindles and chunks of varnished
wood. And then he glanced at Davis, still sacked out in his
cell.
Sighing, he leaned back in the new
chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared out the window
at the storm. It had come up quite a bit since he’d last looked.
Where there had been minute chunks of flora whirling in the wind
before, he now saw a whole branch off a cottonwood, complete with
leaves, being blown up Main Street, roughly three feet off the
ground.
He sure hoped the Milchers had their
cat indoors for this one. A wind like this could carry little Dusty
off to San Diego in a half hour!
He watched several fellows try to leave
the saloon.
Not a one made it past the overhang,
and to a man, they all gave up and went back inside.
Well, that was one thing in a dust
storm’s favor. About all you could do during one was drink and play
cards. Or pray.
He didn’t reckon he’d be seeing Rafe
today, either.
He rolled himself a cigarette, lit it,
and leaned back to watch the storm.
The time came to let school out for the
day, and Jenny tapped on the anteroom door before she threw it open
so that the children could run out. Abe had risen at the sound of
her knock, and so all the students and Jenny saw was Miss Morton,
primly seated on the bench, and Marshal Todd, leaning against the
wall, facing her. The children wouldn’t recognize it, of course,
but Miss Morton had a “well and freshly kissed” look on her face
and color rising in her cheeks.
“If it’s too far for you to go in one
stretch, take temporary shelter in the Milchers’ church,” Jenny
shouted after the kids. They’d be a little the worse for wear when
they got home, but they’d make it. The town of Fury raised tough
kids.
It was taking most all of her fortitude
to keep holding off her knowledge of their engagement. But she
turned to Miss Morton and said, “You’re not riding home in this.
You’d never make the distance! Please, come and spend the night
with Jason and me. Marshal, you’re invited for supper, too, of
course!”
Marshal Todd, who certainly had nothing
better to do, said, “Electa?”
“It’s fine with me,
Abraham.”
They were already letting on that they
were on a first-name basis? It was a surprise to Jenny, and it must
have shown on her face, for Electa said, “Jenny, my dear, we’d like
you to be among the first to know. Abraham and I are
betrothed.”
“Oh, Miss Morton!” Jenny exclaimed at
last, and threw her arms about her employer, hugging her tight. She
was as relieved at finally being told as she was delighted for the
news, itself. “Oh, I’m so excited for you!”
Miss Morton extricated herself as
kindly as she could, and then she stood up. “Thank you, child. We
both accept your congratulations.”
But Jenny couldn’t stop herself. She
was all over the marshal, then Miss Morton, then the marshal again
before she regained what little was left of her composure. “Please,
please do forgive me,” she said before a giggle bubbled up. “It’s
just that this is so . . . wonderful!”
They scurried out into the whirling
wind and rain, and ran all the way to Jenny’s house, where they
arrived streaked with muddy rain, but laughing.
When Jason locked up the office—and
Davis with it—for the night, it was still storming, but not so
angrily as earlier. The wind buffeted him as he made his way up
Main Street, and he made a side trip to stick his head out the gate
and look down the line of wagons. Not that he could see all of
them, but what he saw led him to believe they were all buttoned up
tight.
He stopped at the school to see if
Jenny or Miss Morton had tried to wait it out, but found the door
locked.
He took the rest of the way home at a
half-run, half-jog, and vaulted up onto the porch, clearing all
three steps in handsome style. “Let’s see you beat that, Matt
MacDonald!” he said happily. He was home, and nothing had exploded
or burnt down or been ripped to shreds by a grizzly all day
long!
But when Jason walked into the house,
there was Abe Todd, sitting in his chair
beside his fire, reading his copy of Outriders of the Lonesome
Spread, the book he’d been parceling out to himself in
little literary squirts so that it would last. It wasn’t exactly
timeless literature, but it surely beat the alternative, which was
nothing. Unless a wagon train came through carrying lots of books
for sale—and they hardly ever did—he was stuck with wanted posters
or the Bible. And he’d already read the Bible, cover to cover, five
times.
Finally, Abe looked up from the book
and said, “Well, how-do, Jason! The wind’s been bangin’ at the
shutters so hard I didn’t even hear you come in!”
“No problem,” lied Jason, and forced a
smile. “How you likin’ our weather?”
Abe arched a brow along with his own
smile. “You’re a funny kid, Jason, I’ll give you that.” And then
belatedly, he added, “Say, your sister asked me and Electa to
dinner. Hope that’s okay with you.”
Jason’s sigh was audible. “Well,
welcome, then! Blowin’ too hard for Miss Morton to ride home, I
suppose?”
“That it was. Sounds like it still is,
too.” Outside, the storm threw hailstones mixed with gravel and
cactus bits at the house. Jason thought it was a miracle that it
hadn’t upended the rainwater barrel. Then again, maybe it had. . .
.
During supper, Jenny couldn’t stand to
hold the news in any longer and announced Abe and Electa’s upcoming
nuptials. Jason seemed taken aback, but in a good—and
convincing—way, she thought. He was likely thinking that if they
stayed on in Fury, he wouldn’t have to put up with Matt MacDonald
any longer. She couldn’t have known how right she was.
Jenny was hoping they’d stay, too, but
for reasons all her own. First, she in no way wanted the
responsibility that would come with being the schoolmarm. And
second, she really liked Miss Morton, and would miss her terribly
if she were to leave.
Abe spoke up. “Well, now that we’re
officially announced, I reckon I can give you this, Electa.”
Smiling, he dug into his pocket and pulled out a small
black-and-gold box, worn at the corners.
“Your ma, she gave it to me to give to
you. For the engagement.” He faced the box toward her and opened
the lid.
Electa clapped both hands over her
mouth and Jenny heard her say, “Oh, my word!”
Jenny couldn’t wait. She was up and out
of her chair almost before Electa had finished her sentence. And
when Jenny saw what was in the box, she, too, clapped her hands to
her mouth. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before, and it was
incredibly beautiful!
“Is somebody gonna tell me?” Jason
asked.
Since both women were temporarily
speechless, Abe said, “It’s Electa’s grandma’s wedding ring. They
tell me it’s an honest-to-God emerald.”
“Ringed by little diamonds,” whispered
Electa, “and set in the purest gold. Grandfather had it made for
her when they were still in London.”
Jason had to look, and what he saw set
even him back a few notches. The emerald was huge and a clear,
clean green. He’d seen a few emeralds before, but they had all been
cloudy or hazy, or what Shem Klein, the son of the town jeweler
back home, had called “included.” As Jason recalled, Shem had told
him that a good-sized, “clean” emerald was worth more than a
diamond!
Well, this one was clean as a
whistle.
“By Christ!” he whispered. “Electa, are
you rich?”
He didn’t mean it to sound so crass,
and he immediately joined the covered-mouth crowd, except that he
was blushing, too. After a moment, he said, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t
mean to be rude.”
Electa grinned. “I believe I had much
the same reaction when Mama showed it to me for the first time. I
was twenty, and out running errands with her—we were living in
Baltimore, then—and she said she had to stop by the bank. When we
got there, she brought out a little key and told the clerk she
needed to open her safety deposit box. Of course, I had no idea
what that was, back then. But I learned that day. Oh, goodness!”
She raised her eyes and put a hand to her heart. “The wondrous
things my parents kept there!”
“Like this?” Jenny said, her eyes still
glued to the ring.
“Yes, like this,” Electa said. “Mama
gave a beautiful ruby ring to my sister when she was wed,
too.”
Jenny cocked her head. She hadn’t seen
any such ring, and couldn’t imagine not wearing it if it were
hers.
But Electa finished by saying, “The
poor dear. They sold it, to outfit themselves for the trip to the
West. And to pay off some old debts.”
“I’m so sorry,” said
Jenny.
“A real shame,” said
Jason.
“Hadn’t you best try it on? You know,
see if it fits?” said Abe, who seemed not the least bit impressed
by any of this ring lore.
“Oh, I know it fits,” Electa said. “It
fits me perfectly and will do so forever, just like you’re going
to, Abraham.”
With an audible sigh of delight, Jenny
sank back into her own chair.
Jason was loathe to admit it, but he
knew just how she felt.