"Jake! Teresa!" the Reverend affably greeted them, completely unaware of the attack he'd thwarted. "I didn't know this would be our week with you."
"Well," Jake pushed back the brim of his Stetson purposefully avoiding eye contact with the shrinking fiend behind the Reverend. "We've had our fill of trains for the week."
"Yes," Teresa held her ground smiling politely. "It is good to be home…where I belong."
Though the Reverend's unseeing eyes remained still, his head shifted between their assumed positions, "It's certainly good to have you back. I can already hear the joy in Jake's voice."
As Jake continued to chat happily with the blessed barrier that was the Reverend, Teresa found she could no longer keep her eyes from falling on the woman who was now nudging her way back into the church. The woman was beautiful to say the least. She appeared as a porcelain doll, petit and angular. Her hair was braided in a thick satin like band around her head like a crown, crimson as the ruby stone of Teresa's engagement ring. Long dark chestnut lashes curled to advantage around the most breath taking eyes, Teresa had ever seen. They were a richly deep murky green that shone like the glass eyes of a doll. Absently, Teresa held her fist to her heart, realizing if it hadn't been for her faith in Jake, this woman might be a threat. Feeling uncertain now, Teresa gazed back at Michaela, wanting to bit down on her lower lip. Michaela smiled reassuringly, letting her know there were friends in her corner.
Teresa furrowed her brow a little shaken, as Lucy joined them, remaining in the slivery cloak of her skirts. Shifting Izzy on her hip, she hugged Lucy maternally to her side as the Reverend ushered them into the church. As they passed, Celina inched her way back as though seemingly affected by Jake's presence. Teresa looked from Jake's determined face, as he rushed them through the door, then back towards Celina's expression. There had been something there. Some glimmer of familiarity on this woman's part, when she beheld her husbands face. As they took their seats behind the first two vacant benches, Teresa was unable to put this odd picture out of her mind. It was a puzzling expression which pulled her attentions, so that when Jake gently reached his arm around her shoulders along the benches back, she jumped slightly.
"You alright?" his voice hummed low into her ear.
She forced herself to smile as she nodded in the affirmative. Gradually, as the small church filled and Michaela and her family seated themselves in the row before them, Teresa allowed herself to relax. The absurdity of the situation began to pass on into the caverns of her mind. It wasn't until Loren's gently aged hand patted Jake's shoulder from behind them, that Teresa truly felt as though they were being studied.
"Ah, it's good tah see yah back tah your old self, Jake," Loren tilted his head with a smile. He then turned to Teresa, "Just got some new fabric in yesterday. Give yah a percentage off…it's the most brilliant sapphire blue!" He splayed his hands in the air, to mimic the bursting of stars.
As Teresa peered over her shoulder, she caught sight of Celina sitting calmly beside Loren. Her eyes were downcast with her petit hands bundled in her lap. "It sounds very beautiful. Perhaps as a new coat for Lucy."
"Ah sure," he lovingly patted Lucy on the head. "Bring her in, and we'll take her measurements."
Dorothy, who had just seated herself opposite Loren, cleared her throat. Everyone shifted awkwardly becoming silent, as the Reverend tapped his way up to the pulpit. The entire room stilled all at once as every eye drew to the only man, who could sway the tension of the small drama in another direction. He stood, unassuming before his congregation, betraying not a grain of pejorative nature in his complacent demeanor.
"We've spoken to this subject before," the Reverend began, his tone firm yet genial. "And now I feel the need has risen once more to bring it to the forefront… Scandal. In it's many forms…"
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Once again, the town seemed to stand vacant and bright before Randall. He strode cool as the breeze out of the dimly lit saloon and out into the sun-drenched streets of the town. Distantly, a monotonously straining hymn drifted across the bridge and down between the clinic and the saloon, before it died at Randall's feet. Nearly the entire town was down at the church, barring the trickle of dregs barely holding their heads up at the bar.
Body standing lank he hooked his thumbs into the rim of his black trousers at the small of his back. He swiveled slightly, deep in thought, wondering at the missing proprietor of the Gold Nugget. He hadn't greeted him as he'd checked in, nor had he made his presence known as Randall strolled around the "dining" tables, of the bar room and out the swinging doors. Taking in his surroundings Randall hopped down from the shaded porch and nonchalantly strolled around the corner and towards the boarding house. Surreptitiously, he backed himself up onto the white porch, cautious that not a soul stirred. Finding no further reason to delay, he prepared himself for a locked door only to discover it unlatched and resting against the jam.
"Hmmm," he mused creeping into the rather cozy house. The walls were painted in a pastel green hue, bordered with a carved strip of gold molding which traveled horizontally down the center of the walls down a hallway. Atop this strip was a thick ivory band of wallpaper with a cluster of mauve primroses serving as a pattern. Randall crept down this hall about to begin his search for Ms. Marrow's room when he heard a dull thud emanating from the open door at the far end. He drew himself up straight, fighting to decide which avenue he should take, when a tall lion's mane of a man stepped out from the frame of the open door. The icy blue eyes of a lion peered startled into the cool cerulean embers of a cougar's jovial stare.
"Friend or foe?" Hank swung an object behind his back as he grinned from beneath his mass of sun kissed locks.
"A friend of your friend if you're Hank Lawson," Randall staggered his stance as he placed his hands on his hips.
"Yeah," Hank remained cautious tucking a few thick wavy strands behind his ear. "My friend gotta name?"
"Slicker?"
"Yeah Slicker," Hank exhaled pursing his lips into a stifled grin. This must be the man everyone's been squakin' about, who brought Teresa home. "You McCoy?"
Randall dropped his head forward with a nod, his lips pressing into a sealed smile. Once again, they watched each other, sizing up and judging the other to be whom and what he claimed. It was immediately apparent they had both come for the same reason as they mutually entered Celina's room.
It was a room like any other in the boarding house, decorated in a quaint country fashion. The walls were papered in pink and pastel blushed rosebuds as clusters on an ivory field. There was a mahogany four-poster bed with a cream-colored floral spread. Two bureau's of the same grain of wood, one containing an oval framed mirror, over a white lace runner. It was here that Randall had wandered tapping his fingertips along the worn combs, and bristle brush, until he discovered the tiny glass vial. The dainty vial felt foreign in his rough hands as he pulled out the tiny round knob and attached stem. He waved the glass stem under his nose wafting the scent up his nostrils.
"Yep," he said replacing the stem and placing the vial back in its place. "That's the perfume Mr. Slicker smelled. It's just like Teresa's."
Hank raised his acutely bent brow at this. Coming close to Randall, he looked him up from the back of his ebony boots, to the top of his thickly tufted towhead. He wasn't an outwardly pretty man, but Hank reasoned, neither was Jake. Yet, there was something in his demeanor, something pleasing in his manner that seemed to disarm a person. It wasn't devious, and it wasn't misleading. Hank could not place his finger on it, no matter how he fought to be suspicious of this man. A man who had spent quite an amount of time alone with Jake's wife. Enough time it seemed to become accustomed with her predilection for rose scented perfumes.
"Close quarters, was it?" Hank's head bobbed sharply forward into Randall's space and back. "On the train?"
Once again, Randall's chin pointed down as his eyes smiled upwards not really looking at Hank. He knew full well what the man was getting at, and he couldn't resist the urge to poke at him. "Yep, on the horse too."
Hank gritted his teeth stepping back still holding onto the mysterious object at his back. However picking up on Hank's scathing cue, Randall relented, focusing his bright gemlike eyes on him with warning. "She's as much a lady now as ever."
There was a moment of silence between them while Hank fought within himself. Finally, reaching some point of satisfaction, Hank tossed a framed picture onto the bed. Randall sighed lifting the simple walnut frame and studying the content.
"I take it yah met Jake. Yah know what he looks like," Hank leaned against the doorframe.
Randall nodded. The woman was crazy and here was the proof, literally smiling up at him. It was a family portrait, clearly not of Celina's kin. A man, his wife, and there small toddler smiling brightly. Though the portrait was in black and gray tones, it was apparent the mother had been fair haired as was the child resting cheerily in her lap. Their heart shaped faces spoke of bliss and plenty as they nestled close to a very familiar looking man. He was much more angular than Jake was, however the shapes and lines of their faces ran a haunting parallel. A similar shapely full lipped mouth which curved pleasantly at their corners. The same slightly oblique shaped eyes peering out from under softly inclined brows. The very air and attitude of Jake and yet not. Randall flipped the frame studying the hard black cardboard backing. Running his thumb across some silver inked script written across the backing, he looked questioningly at Hank.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that was Izzy," Hank froze sticking his nose in the air.
Together they honed in to their surroundings, taking stock of the sudden shift within the town. There was silence, before the laughter of children echoed like tinkling chimes down the street. Distant murmurings began to hum from without, with the clanking wrenching of wagons being moved. Simultaneously, the pair went rigid.
"Church is over," Hank whispered snatching the portrait from Randall's grasp.