Chapter 26 — REGRET
"No amount of regret can change the past.
No amount of anxiety can change the future." (Unknown)
Andy'd fled right back up to the loft… still conflicted but with a clearer understanding of why he'd felt—was still feeling—the way he did. Kim was still up there, curled into a nest he'd made for himself in the hay and apparently asleep. He stirred when Andy poked him in the arm.
"You awake?"
"I am now," Kim replied irritably, pushing himself upright. "I thought you left."
"I did. Now I'm back."
"Jess and Slim okay?"
"Miss Sally says they will be. They sent for Young Doc anyway."
Kim crawled to the edge of the door. The stage was gone. So were the spring wagon and the dead bodies.
"Those men still down below?"
"Mild Bill and Opie took 'em all to town."
"Anyone looking for me?"
"No."
"What'd you wake me up for, then?" Kim was picking straw out of his hair.
"You an' me are gonna have to help with the afternoon stage. Miss Sally can't do it by herself an' Jonesy can't help."
"What do you expect me to do?"
"I'll show you."
"Oh joy. I can hardly wait."
Can I ask you something?" Andy's voice was dead serious as he abruptly changed topics.
"Sure."
"How do you feel after you kill someone?"
"Excuse me? Just how many people do you think I've killed?"
"Well… you did tell us about that man back in… wherever's that place you're from…"
"That was the first and only time… until today."
"Wait a minute… that was you got that first man, not Opie?"
"Yes."
"Oh. Not to be rude or anything... but you don't act like it's bothering you at all..."
"How do you think I should be acting?"
"I dunno... I guess... not so calm? I mean... I've seen Slim and Jess—even Jonesy—after they've shot people... they look upset—sometimes a little shaky... even sad... but..."
Kim parsed the disjointed statement, understanding the honest question buried in there along with a fear of giving offense. Lie... or tell the truth?
"I don't feel anything."
"Nothing? Nothing at all?" Andy's voice held disbelief.
"I didn't mean to kill that man back home. If I'd hesitated, just for a second… if I'd stopped to consider what I was doing, that man would still be alive. But he attacked me first and I reacted."
"What about today?"
"Today was different. Impersonal. I guess that's how snipers can live with themselves. I didn't want to have to shoot to kill but there wasn't any other place to aim. Too low and I would've got Jess in the back, too high and I might've hit all those people on the porch. It doesn't seem fair to kill someone who doesn't even know you're there, but he most likely would've got Jess with his second shot."
"Why didn't you shoot that second man before he had a chance to shoot Jess?"
Kim spread his hands. "I warned you all I wasn't good with guns. That first shot was a lucky one. I might not've been so lucky on the second try and hit Jess by mistake. I guess I just froze…"
Andy felt a deep disappointment. "Basically, you just chickened out, is that it?"
"I suppose that's one way of looking at it."
"There's another way?" Andy challenged. He knew he was being irrational… blaming the man for not shooting the man who actually shot Jess. But he could've prevented that from happening if he'd tried…
"Let's just say that I remembered how an ill-considered reaction got me into all this trouble in the first place."
"I don't understand..."
"I don't expect you to. Maybe now your people understand why it's so dangerous for me to be around here. What happened last year was just the beginning. The trouble it... I... caused isn't over yet. I'm still separated from my family. There're still bad people after me. What happened here today will happen again with others..."
"Those four white men were after Jess, not you," Andy reminded him. "Countin' the two last week that Miss Sally told about."
"I imagine they'll spread the word around town that he's off limits."
"This ain't... isn't... the first time bad men've come lookin' for Jess. Why don't you feel the same way about the man you killed today as the one last year?" Andy persisted.
"I don't know." How do you explain emptiness?
A chorus of welcoming whinnies from the pasture and the corral alerted the compound to arrivals on the road. A buckboard appeared in the curve of the road and pulled up to the front of the house... Mister and Missus Bartlett and their son Tom—Andy's best friend. Sally came out the front door to greet them just as Marilyn nimbly hopped down without waiting for an assist. Tommy handed down several baskets and the women went into the house. Tommy jumped out to help his father unhitch their team and tie them near the trough just outside the corral.
"Mose or Bill musta stopped by their place to tell 'em we needed help with the afternoon stage," Andy mused.
Keeping still, the two in the loft listened to the murmur of voices below. Presently father and son reappeared with lead ropes and bait buckets filled with dried corn, heading over to the pasture.
Kim took a deep breath, glad of the distraction. "Don't you need to show them which horses to catch?"
"Nah. Mister Gar's done this before. He knows whichever one he picks, its partner'll follow."
"Really?"
"Oh sure. Slim's real careful about pairing 'em up equally. After a while they get to be pards, just like people... watch."
Sure enough, when the older man had clipped a lead to the halter of a broad-quartered bay and started bringing it to the gate, an almost identical animal tagged along. Same with the smaller, lighter-bodied horse Tommy had selected for the lead team. Once in the corral, they began the prep process beginning with brushdowns.
"How did they know not to use any of the saddle horses in the pasture?" Kim asked.
"You can't tell the difference between saddle marks and harness marks?"
"Never thought about it."
"You've never harnessed a horse before?" Andy was incredulous.
"No. Someone else always did it. I wouldn't know where to connect everything."
Andy marveled over this incredible admission. "I'd better go down. I can get started on my other chores while they're takin' care of the stage.
"I would've thought Slim'd give you a pass, considering..."
"Haven't you noticed? He never gives me a pass, no matter what."
"Why do you think he's so hard on you?"
"Dunno." Andy shrugged. "I know he loves me, but you wait an' see... when we go back inside, first thing he'll ask is if I done my chores. I know he will. You comin'? You can't stay up here all night."
"I think I'll just stay up here a while."
While her menfolk attended to outside business, Marilyn Bartlett rolled up her sleeves and swept through the little ranch house with the efficiency of a prairie wife accustomed to running a large household. Shooing Jonesy into a bedroom for a nap, she took over the kitchen and bossed Sally around as she would one of her own daughters. The younger woman didn't mind a bit, grateful to have been relieved of decision-making stress if only for a short time.
Between them the house was restored to order, supper was simmering on the stove, and laundry sorted and ready to be dealt with the next day. In the parlor Slim and Jess dozed on. In anticipation of the four o'clock stage, Marilyn had whipped up a batch of scones. As the hour drew closer, with the 'company' coffeepot gurgling on a back burner, the woman removed her apron and directed Sally to do the same and take a seat at the kitchen.
"We've earned a sit-down and a chin-wag!" Marilyn declared over a plate of warm pastries and mugs of fresh hot coffee laced with liberal splashes of her homemade Irish cream whiskey from a brown jug.
Garland Bartlett was proud of his wife's capabilities, claiming there was no duty on their ranch she couldn't perform as well as any man. Sharing Sally's disdain for the usual housewifely topics such as hairstyles, fashion, sewing, preserving, cake baking and home decor, whenever they got together Marilyn kept to interests they had in common—basically, children, men and horses. Very sensibly, she avoided bringing up any mention of Sally's marital prospects, or lack thereof. An excellent horsewoman in her own right, Marilyn rode astride in divided skirts and, like Sally, refused to wear corsets. At home she often wore pantaloons she called 'bloomers', which had been in style when she was a girl.
"Now, I want to hear every little detail of today's hoedown... it's a refreshing change from breakin' up squabbles between rugrats all the livelong day."
Sally laughed. "You don't know how glad I am that you decided to come, Marilyn. But who's minding your brood while you're here?"
"Left Emmy Lou in charge. Silly twit's pregnant again. Needs the experience in riding herd on a bunch a kids and I needed a break."
"How many does that make now?"
"Ten altogether, countin' Emmy's toddler and the one she's fixin' to foal. I know people probably tell you you're lucky, havin' just the one... but I do love me a houseful a young 'uns."
"Which is easier to raise... boys or girls?"
"Girls... definitely! Why do you ask? Plannin' on a little brother or sister for Jacob? Oh, that's right... I forgot... you adopted that Indian child, didn't you? Are you still happy with that decision?"
"Very much so, yes. I don't expect I'll be having any more babies myself so it's lovely having one of each."
Sally embarked on a generalized accounting of the morning's fracas. At her description of the bathroom battle, Marilyn was laughing too hard to be mortified at the idea of a nude Sally whomping on a villain with a bathbrush.
"I'da paid my good butter-and-egg money to see that!" the woman roared, dabbing at her face with her balled up apron while Sally got up to take a quick peek at her patients. Both appeared to be soundly and comfortably asleep in their respective rockers, facing each other by the fireplace.
Returning to her place at the table, Sally admitted that, in retrospect, the whole affair seemed comical... if it hadn't been so frightening. "And, you know... happening so soon after the other attack last week..."
"Ah yes... Gar told me about that, of course." Marilyn jerked her head toward the parlor. "They fast asleep?"
"In brandied dreamland," Sally assured her.
Marilyn leaned forward to speak in what she thought was a suitably conspiratorial whisper—but, accustomed as she was to shouting over a bunch of squabbling children all day, her 'whisper' wasn't all that secretive.
"If you would indulge an old married gal's prurient curiosity... is he any good?"
Sally was confused. "Is who any what?"
Marilyn rolled her eyes. "Jess, of course. Is he as good in the sack as he looks on the hoof?"
Sally felt her face flame. The cup in her hand rattled alarmingly. "I... uh... no... you don't... that is... you've got the wrong idea!"
"Oh come, come... it's no great secret about you and Slim... but I wouldn't have passed up an opportunity for a crack at Jess Harper, either..."
"Marilyn... please... it wasn't like that. No no no no no..."
"Everyone knows you brought that Compton girl out from town."
Sally moaned. "Everyone?" she echoed faintly.
"We figured it was for Andy's tutor—what's his name, Kim—since he hasn't been able to get to town himself... that certainly was charitable on your part, Sal." Marilyn sat back triumphantly. "You don't need to say another word, girl. I can tell from the look on your face it must've been pretty damned wonderful. Lucky thing! I'm sure Kim and that girl enjoyed themselves, too."
Sally groaned.
"I just realized I haven't seen Kim today," Marilyn continued blithely. "Such a nice young man... is he around? And Andy... this must have been quite a traumatic experience for him."
Which was when Sally realized she hadn't seen either one in many hours... and that somehow she'd failed to explain who was actually responsible for the two dead men. Evidently Marilyn assumed it had been Slim and Jess. Suddenly (and uncharitably) Sally found herself wishing the Bartletts a speedy departure. The news would get out in due course... especially after those stage people blabbed what they'd seen. And Sheriff Corey would be paying a call in the not too distant future.
"Oh... they're around here somewhere. Kim might've taken Andy on a nature walk to settle him down some."
"A walk? As cold as it is?"
"Well... you know... something to do with biology study..."
A distant rumbling announced the arrival of the westbound four o'clock stage. And in his rocker by the fireplace, Slim Sherman wasn't quite as asleep as he'd pretended to be.
When you wake up, Jess Harper, I'm going to tear out your liver.
With the sun already lowering in the western sky, Mose climbed down to direct the two passengers into the house before joining the Bartletts in switching out teams. Working together, Andy and the Bartletts tended the spent team and stripped the four unclaimed saddle horses before turning them out, then barrowed hay and feed out to the pasture. Announcing he'd take care of milking, Garland Bartlett collected the cow, the bull and the orphan calves and impounded them in their respective byres. Andy and Tommy teamed up to collect late-day eggs, herd the chickens into their pens and make the rounds of Andy's caged pets. Presently the father reappeared carrying milk pails toward the house while the son backed their team up to their wagon.
The patients in the parlor were beginning to show signs of rousing when Bartlett tapped lightly on the kitchen door and came in with the milk.
"We've done about all we can for today, Sally."
"Garland, you're a prince among men! I don't know how we'd manage without you coming to our rescue every five minutes."
"Tom don't mind comin' back in the mornin' if you need him..."
"Old Bill and Opie should be back in time for the morning stage but tell him thanks all the same."
"Well, all right then. Mother, you 'bout ready to head home?"
"Be right there... now where's my jacket?"
I'm grateful to you, Marilyn... more than you'll ever know," Sally said as the older woman gathered up her black skirts and climbed aboard the spring wagon.
"No trouble at all... as they say, many hands make light work."
"Keep an eye on that chicken and dumplings," Marilyn called over her shoulder as they rolled away. "Don't let it scorch."