Allie's Moon (16 page)

“
I guess he ain’t so brave when he
don’t have a gun strapped to his leg, huh?” Floyd taunted, dogging
Jeff’s steps.

“
Or when he’s got some woman’s skirts
to hide behind,” Matthews added with hooting derision.

Jeff turned to face them, anger throbbing
through his limbs, but he bit back the fury. Despite everything
that had happened, he never forgot that he’d cut short the life of
this man’s son. That knowledge and the guilt that went with it had
saved Cooper Matthews from Jeff’s wrath more than once, if he only
knew it. The shotgun Matthews carried gleamed dully under the
afternoon sun.

“
I got a bone to pick with you, Hicks.
More than one bone, in fact, and my list keeps growing. So you’d
better watch your back. I aim to get satisfaction one of these
days.” He hefted the shotgun once, a short, light bounce in his
hand, as if to bring the weapon to Jeff’s notice.

Weariness, heavy as a millstone, descended
upon Jeff. Cooper Matthews was a mean son of a bitch, mean to the
core. Jeff wasn’t about to let him think he could be pushed around,
but he just wanted to walk away and be left in what little peace he
had.

He gave Cooper a wry grin, then stared into
the man’s small, cruel eyes. “Hell, Matthews, you can’t kill a man
who’s already dead. Even you and your dimwit pard, here—” he
gestured at Floyd, “ought to be smart enough to know that. You can
threaten me all you want—it just doesn’t matter to me.”

Plainly spoiling for a fight, Jeff’s
indifference made the man even angrier. While Floyd gaped at Jeff,
his companion sputtered for a snappy retort, choler twisting his
face. People on the street were turning to stare at them.

Jeff turned and walked on toward the Liberal.
Then he heard Cooper yell an extremely crude remark about Althea
Ford, one that sent another surge of anger through his veins. Jeff
knew he did it to goad him, and oh, damn it, he shouldn’t care. He
should just let it go. But Althea had no part of this fight, not
really. It had started long before the day she talked to Cooper
about working for her, and she didn’t deserve to have anyone call
her a filthy name. He turned and strode back to the two men, his
boot heels pounding on the boards in the sidewalk. It felt as if
there were a face at every window up and down the street watching
and listening.

Floyd let out a short yip and jumped aside.
Jeff grabbed Cooper by the suspenders on his baggy overalls and
pulled him up to his face. Although Jeff done nothing with his life
in the past two years, he didn’t feel that he was as completely
worthless as the man who faced him now. Stealing an egg was nothing
compared to Matthews’ history of bullying and inflicting years of
physical and mental abuse on his wife and child. Jeff thought Elly
Matthews died simply to escape her life with Cooper.

“
Say it again, Matthews. Call Miss Ford
that name again, this time to my face.”

The other man only grinned at Jeff, showing
off his stained, peglike teeth. “What’re you gonna do, Hicks? Kill
me? You two think you’re better than everyone else, you and that
cu—”

Jeff’s fist smashed against Cooper’s mouth,
cutting off the end of the word. The man’s head snapped back and he
landed on his backside in the street. He wiped his dirty hand
across his mouth and looked at the blood there. He sent Jeff a look
of pure, undiluted hatred.

“
You’re gonna pay for that,
Hicks.”

Jeff stood over him and pointed a finger at
him. “That’s fine. I don’t give a damn. You just leave the lady out
of it.” He turned and walked away again, past goggle-eyed
bystanders and counter boys who’d come out of the stores and saloon
to have a look.

He didn’t think Cooper and Floyd were
following him. He’d barked louder than they had. This time. But
just as he’d recognized the other day, this thing between Matthews
and him wasn’t finished, and Jeff truly didn’t know which of them
that would die in ending it. But all of it had come about because
he’d gone to Wickwire’s that night and seen Wes, instead of riding
home to have dinner with Sally.

Guilt, fury, and the frightening novelty of
dealing with trouble sober had his insides shaking. More determined
than ever to get that drink, he reached the saloon and gripped the
top of the batwing doors. From within, the noise and smells and
voices, all so familiar to him, drew him with an unspoken promise
to kill the pain in his soul. He pushed on the doors—he thought he
heard someone inside call him by name. This was where he belonged,
even if he’d once had other dreams . . . 

Then a pair of blue-gray eyes rose in his
memory. The effect was so sudden, so unexpected, that Jeff stopped
as if someone had pulled him back by his shirt tail.

“
Hey, Jeff, are you coming in or not,
son?” A ripple of laughter rolled through the place.

He released his grip on the doors. No, he
wasn’t. Althea had put her trust in him, and it sat on his
shoulders with his weariness, a burden that he knew he couldn’t put
down. Not even for a minute.

Not even for one drink.

Jeff turned around and walked back to the
wagon that had borne a child into adulthood. He climbed up to the
same sprung seat that had held her, and unwrapped the reins from
the brake handle.

“
We’d better get back, Kansas. Allie’s
waiting.”

CHAPTER NINE

Calling herself every kind of God’s fool,
Althea had watched Jeff leave with a leaden feeling in the pit of
her stomach. He’d been gone for what seemed like hours, and though
she tried to keep her mind on her ironing and hide her concern from
Olivia, she wasn’t having much luck with either.

“
I don’t know if I would have given him
money, Althea. After all, a man like him might just take it and
never come back.” Olivia sat at the kitchen table sipping tea and
stitching on a doll’s dress. Her nose wrinkled delicately as she
spoke, as if she discussed a very disagreeable smell.

Althea had been surprised to see her
downstairs—lately her sister had begun looking wan again and taking
to her bed. Today, distracted though Althea was, she noticed that
Olivia positively bloomed. Her cheeks had color and her eyes were
bright, even though she pursed her mouth slightly with obvious
disapproval.

Trying to change the subject, Althea gave her
sister a fond smile and said, “You look so fresh and pretty today,
dear. I’m glad to see you up and about again.”

“
Well, when I looked out my window and
saw your Mr. Hicks leave, I knew you’d be needing company. It’s so
disappointing when someone you’ve counted on lets you down. I hope
the sheriff puts him back in jail if he catches him.” Olivia shook
her head and tsk-tsked while she tacked a narrow strip of lace onto
the little skirt. “You probably should have told him to have the
supplies put on account.”

The same thought had already occurred to
Althea. But if he bought clothes for himself, he might feel
uncomfortable about getting them on what might look like charity,
and a woman’s charity at that. With cash, no one was the wiser. She
tried to sound unconcerned when she replied. “I’m not worried.
Besides, he’ll probably show up starving for his dinner.”

Olivia peered closely at the fine stitches
she took in the doll’s dress and shook her head again. “No, I think
we’ve seen the last of him. But when he doesn’t come back you won’t
have to worry about cooking for another person, or sewing for him,
or doing his wash. Next time, you can hire someone who’ll go home
at night.”

Her sister’s pessimistic certainty made her
head begin to ache. “Of course he’ll be back. We still have lots of
work to do around here.” But Althea looked out the kitchen window
even more often than she had when Jeff was plowing in the field
without a shirt. That was a dangerous thing to do when working with
fire-hot flatirons. With her gaze fixed on the road outside, she
groped blindly for the iron and her hand came to rest on the bare
metal.

Letting out a cry that launched Olivia from
her chair, Althea jerked her hand away and ran to the sink to pump
cold water over it.

“
Let me see,” Olivia demanded. She made
passing swipes to grab her wrist, but Althea refused, afraid to see
the burn herself.

“
No! I’ll be all right! Please,” she
begged, huddled over the sink, “please just leave me alone.” Her
voice shook with suppressed tears and frayed nerves. She didn’t
mean to be short with Olivia. But a sense of defeat sat on her
heart like a rock, and searing her hand on the iron stole the
shreds of her brave front.

With a pointed show of hurt feelings, Olivia
dropped her hand and backed up. “Certainly, Althea. I’ll run along
to the parlor, if that's the way you want it.” Allie could tell
from her tone that her sister was thinking of herself again.

With a shaky sigh, Althea forced herself to
look at the burn. A big triangular blister was forming on her palm,
its angry red shape conforming with the top end of the iron.
Butter—that’s what people put on burns. She pulled out the butter
crock and spooned some onto the blister. Then she cradled her hand
to her chest and tried to fight the tears rising in her eyes, while
Olivia played the piano, battering the keys like an asylum
inmate.

What if he didn’t come back? What if Jeff
took the mule and the wagon and never came back? It wasn’t losing
the money that worried her, although that wasn’t a happy prospect.
And she’d have to pay Mr. Smithfield for the loss of Kansas. She
looked out the window at the plowed field. But who would plant that
garden out there? Who would help her? Her gaze drifted to the
lean-to.

Who would stir in her those frightening,
fascinating feelings that he did? a tiny voice whispered. Althea
practically jumped away from the window, guilt adding its burden to
her anxiety.

In the parlor Olivia continued to pound out a
song, and Althea felt that she must escape or completely lose her
composure. Grabbing a small meal sack from the corner, she pushed
on the screen door and went outside, away from the pouting and the
angry piano notes. There was a stiff breeze blowing, but the
afternoon was hot, so she crossed the yard to the leafy shade of
the old oak that towered in the meadow next to the barn. It was
always cooler under here, and even in the hottest part of summer,
the grass and wild flowers under the tree’s limbs stayed green and
tender.

Opening the meal sack with her uninjured hand
she reached inside and took out a small handful of shelled
sunflower seeds. Then with her hand open and slightly outstretched,
she stood perfectly still and waited. In the peaceful hush of the
countryside, she could hear her own breathing, and her heartbeat
beneath her breastbone, but the only other sound was the whisper of
her skirts against the high grass. Still she waited.

It didn’t take long. First she heard curious
chirps coming from the higher branches above her, and the sound of
wings fluttering against the leaves. An instant later she felt an
airy tap on her shoulder, and then a black-capped chickadee jumped
from her shoulder and settled on her fingers.

“
Ohh, there you are,” she murmured
softly. “I came to see how you’re getting along. Did you bring your
wife?”

As if answering her question, another bird
with plainer feathers fluttered down to her hand from a low branch,
and Althea’s heart warmed as the little black and white birds
plucked the sunflower hearts from her palm. Watching them, she
could almost her forget the pain in her other hand, and the very
real possibility that Jefferson Hicks had taken her money, her
wagon, and Mr. Smithfield’s mule, and now was long gone.

~~*~*~*~~

After his encounter with Cooper and Floyd,
Jeff spent the ride home in moody reflection. There was no telling
how Cooper would decide to strike next, and Floyd Endicott was his
toadying tagalong. Floyd didn’t have as dark a mean streak as
Cooper, but he’d do anything his friend told him, so that was just
as bad.

When the Fords’ peeling yellow house came
into view, Jeff was surprised by the vague sense of relief that
settled over him. Not because of the house—although the roof looked
better, overall the thing was an eyesore that might never be right
again. But there was refuge here, and a kind of peace where the
Cooper Matthews’ of the world wouldn’t bother him, and the pull of
the Liberal Saloon wasn’t as strong.

As he and Kansas passed the house on the way
to the barn, he noticed Allie standing stock-still in the fruit
orchard with her hand extended. The breeze whipped at the hem of
her skirt and her apron ties, and strands of her dark-red hair
pulled loose from its knot. What the hell was she doing? She looked
like a statue in a town square, or a photographer’s notion of a
forest nymph, posed and captured on a camera’s glass plate.

He let the reins grow slack in his hands and
Kansas took that as a signal to stop. Jeff heard the tortured piano
notes coming from the house, but his attention was on the
mahogany-haired woman in the grass.

The whole family had never been quite right,
Eli Wickwire had said. Was he was seeing an active of example of
Allie being not “quite right?”

Then suddenly, a bird landed on Allie’s
shoulder and hopped down to her open palm to eat something right
out of her hand.

Jeff hunched forward and put his elbows on
his knees. “Well, I’ll be damned— ” He’d never seen anything like
it. Most birds were as skittish as horses, flying off with little
or no provocation, never letting anyone get close. Yet here was
Allie, feeding them as if she were one of them. The sight of it
lifted some of the darkness from his heart.

It suited her, he decided. She was small and
delicate like those birds. She had graceful little ways, like when
she pushed her hair back with her hand. It reminded him of a bird
preening its feathers.