His finger ran along the flat curve of the slate metal mugs handle. The unbalanced pressure set the empty cup on its side reminding Loren of how long he'd been waiting for Grace to refill his coffee. Fingers pressing with more force than necessary along the now cold round of metal, Loren set the mug to rights with an angry thud. His eyes shifted about attempting to catch the eye of any of the hedging waitresses nearby. They hemmed precipitously engaged with paltry chores, rather than deign attendance on him.
Loren sighed observing the sparse scattering of diners eating at the café this afternoon. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the fact that he was being made an example of by being treated as an outcast. While the store had been full up with customers picking up their garment orders and being fit for measurements, the floor was oddly empty of his usual drop ins. Hank hadn't been in to fill out his usual orders for the saloon, and Dorothy who he'd seen rushing down the walk towards the clinic, hadn't even cast a curious glance back through the doorway. Not to mention the fact, that he hadn't seen Jake and the girls since Sunday. Come to think about it, Loren thought as he drummed his round bent fingers on the blue and white hatched tabled cloth, Jake hadn't truly spoken to him since that day he'd formally introduce himself to Ms. Marrow.
Fortuitously, as Loren broke off from his meandering thoughts, the dim coals of his eyes locked with the chocolate morsels that were Grace's eyes. With coffee kettle in hand, she froze somewhat contritely, peering from Loren's empty mug to the heavy sloshing container she held in her hands. Mashing up one side of her lips, she hooded her eyes as she placed one hand indignantly on her aproned hip.
"Are you gonna fill this mug or not!" Loren grabbed the ribbon of metal that was the mugs handle and shook it at her.
"Are you gonna pull yer head oudda yah ill gotton money stacks and do what needs tah be done?" Grace waited tapping her toe on the dusty yellow earth.
Their eyes remained locked in a dogged match of strength and stubbornness, until a familiar yet precariously even voice broke through the tension.
"I need tah talk tah yah," Jake strode up to Loren's table cautiously determined. Beneath the cobalt of his duster, his shoulders were set in a trembling mass of tautness. Jake nodded to Grace as he removed the suede Stetson from his head, combing his fingers through his autumn tufts with his other hand. He didn't wait for an invitation as he sat opposite Loren and placed his hat on the table by the dainty glass vase, that held spokes of white daisies surrounded by drooping skirts of orange poppies. Jake could feel Grace pulling away before she shot back at his side startling him with a freshly piping mug of coffee. She smiled warmly patting his arm before stabbing Loren with a patented glare and sashayed to a distance within earshot.
Self-consciously, Jake caressed the hot metal sides of the mug, feeling his stomach bubbling nauseously from the smell. Normally, he loved the subtle scents of chicory and roasted nutmeg mingling and drifting up the thick plumes of heat. However, with the rude acidic aroma of whiskey still lingering in his nostrils, Jake felt his stomach roll unpleasantly. He hadn't even been able to get down a fork full of Teresa's fluffy scrambled eggs. Even the sizzling salty confection of the heap of bacon she'd set down for anyone to take squeezed his throat making it hard even for him to swallow. His only reprieve had been in the warm toasted disk of a tortilla which he rolled between his palms and calmly ate. And Teresa's hand gently stroking the back of his neck with loving and compassionate reassurance, as she passed behind him fueled his resolve to confront Loren.
"You gonna drink that?" Loren indicated the smoky liquid cradled in Jake's trembling hands.
With a shrug, Jake pushed the mug into Loren's waiting palm as he slid back into his chair letting his hand slap down onto his lap. "I don't wanna beat around the bush here-"
"I know whatcha gonna say," Loren cut him off. He took a relishing sip from the retrieved mug as he smirked taunting Grace with his eyes.
Jake leaned forward again, this time resting his elbows on the table with his hands outstretched. "Look…I ain't about cuttin' into a man's business, but ah…Loren that woman's gotta go."
"Now wait just a minute there Jake," Loren rubbed his finger under his nose before he continued. "I ain't so sure gettin' rid o'hers the thing. She ain't caused no trouble 'round the store. She's just fine around the customers and I -"
"This ain't about your damn store! She's ruinin' my life!" Jake bellowed unknowingly casting the area in silence. "I gottah family tah protect. Teresa, she…" Jake lowered his booming voice as he peered heartbrokenly down at his hands. "She's been hurt by her."
"She hit Teresa?" Loren shook his head. "Hmmm. That's not the way I heard it."
Jake huffed narrowing his eyes at Loren. Not wanting to divulge every tainted detail in order to spare Teresa some gossip, Jake nudged the corner of his mouth back.
"I ain't askin' anymore," Jake slammed his fist down onto the tabletop sending the flowers and vase to quaking, almost as though they understood the gravity of the situation around them. "This morning I found a jug of Hank's whiskey at my door." He rose grabbing at his hat as he towered over Loren. "She ain't proper and I won't have her near my girls! Until, she's gone, we'll do all our shoppin' in Denver."
"Ahhh, now wait ah minute Jake," Loren stood patting at the air attempting to quell the dramatics.
"Jake! Jake!" it was Horace, ambling down between the clinic and the Gazette. "That wire, yah had Mr. McCoy send to Denver! Answer just come through," he panted as his gangly wrist flicked the yellowish paper into Jake's snatching grasp.
Placing his Stetson on his head, Jake quietly read the telegram, unaware of Grace, Horace, and Loren who stood around him frozen in suspense. "'Cuse me… gotta get up to the schoolhouse," Jake said to no one in particular as he darted off in the wrong direction. However, upon his righted returned he shoved his shaded face up under Horace's stumbling demeanor. "You breath a word Horace! An' I'll sew your lips shut myself!"
"Don't worry Jake," he watched as the square cobalt tails of Jake's duster disappeared around the corner of the Gazette. "I won't…"
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The thick blades of grass sprung up reaching like pixie fingers towards the shinning golden orb hanging among the cotton wafts in the sky. Humming with eagerness the open meadow surged with abundant delicate flora. Carpets of dancing clover beds lay in gradient patches leading up to the cozy schoolhouse. The brick toned academic abode, nestled back within the crooked arm of cottonwood shrubs, and round reaching oak branches which dripped down into the high springing lemon grass thickets. Blocking the inclined path stood an obsidian charger set within the confines of a lightly loaded wagon. The inky creature stood sentinel over another much smaller ebony maned creature which stood in reverent adoration of the former.
Lucy reached her arms high in order to touch her fingertips to the obsidian charger's velvety muzzle. The horse obliged her small hands, stooping its mighty head down, nudging her chest. Clinking and rattling against the shadow of the rather large animal's barrel the harness chain holding Cin' to the wagon seemed somehow out of place on such a regal horse. Nonetheless, he seemed to be tolerating the annoyance in favor of the nose stroking attentions of the small child before him. Lucy giggled running her fingers through Cin's course sable mane as it hung like Spanish moss between his darting ears and down his ebony forehead.
"Gettin' to know each other?" Randall inquired stepping down the pale dirt pathway from the schoolhouse. He cast one of his sealed smiles in Lucy's direction as he began loading more books into his arms, from the back of the wagon.
Lucy nodded genially at her mother's new friend. "What's his name?"
"Cin'," Randall came about, his arms scooped upwards, piled five books high in each arm.
"Sin?" Lucy furrowed her brow in distaste. "Like something bad?"
Randall chuckled, as the crystalline pools of blue in his eyes seemed to luminousness brilliantly under the bright sunlight. He peered down at the little beauty frowning up at him. "Cin' is short for Cincinnati, where I was born."
"Ooooh," Lucy's eyes rounded showing off her own opaline hued crystals which seemed to light from behind her thick black lashes. "If my Papa says it's alright, may I ride him?"
Randall felt at a loss seeing how her brows rose with hope, and her little bow of a mouth pressed into a crooked smirk, reminiscent of Mayor Slicker himself. After constantly being told about what a charming belle this child was, and to finally see her nearly knocked Randall off Cin's saddle. Her skin was a soft creamy café au lait color which contrasted breathtakingly with the same storm shifting eyes of her father. They were gray as a gale rushing over the sea, then cool and dark as the depths of the calm blue ocean. However, her most disarming attribute lay within the unmistakable expressions and gestures which were clearly passed down from Jake.
"Sure honey, whatever your papa says is alright," Randall relished the way her eyes arched with joy, and her glossy jet ringlets bounced over her small shoulders. He couldn't quite get over what a perfect little hybrid of her parents Lucy was. Not even when one of those parents made themselves known from the opened doorway of the schoolhouse.
"Lucy, are you bothering Mr. McCoy?" Teresa called down to them.
"I'm gonna ride Cin' if Papa says I can," she apprised her mother, strolling along side Randall as he ambled up the path, under the weight of the books in his arms. "Can I go ask Papa now?"
Teresa laughed reaching out to relieve Randall of on of his stacks, "May you ask your Papa…and yes…you may."
Lucy turned excitedly on her heel and ran down through the meadow as fast as her feet could carry her to the barbershop. With a lighter load, Randall watched from beneath his brow as the angel with the pearls for eyes bolted in the direction of town.
"I have seen that look before," Teresa wandered farther into the schoolhouse placing her stack with the other children's books on her desk. Her eyes shifted to the corner of the room where Izzy sat on her blue fleece blanket, blissfully sucking on her fingers, and staring up at every movement her mother made. "It is the look of another admirer, set to spoil Lucy rotten."
Randall placed his own load on top of Teresa's and stepped back roguishly rounding his shoulders as he leaned his elbow on the highest stack of books. "Ah well, it's not hard to love a child that sweet."
"Well," Teresa smiled tucking a loose strand of lazy curl back behind her ear. "Guard your heart…for Lucinda only has eyes for Jake."
"As well, she should," he quipped back. There was a silent moment that fell over the small room as Randall fought to find the words to say. He filled that time watching Teresa dusting off the desktops before laying a scarlet hardcover book on the thin wooden ledge of each desk. As his lips curled up to one side, he squinted the eye above it. "I uh. I just wanted to tell yah if…um…well."
Teresa looked up from the third row clasping her hands in front of her maroon skirts. "Is everything alright?"
"I may have to be on my way soon," he stood up straight now hooking his thumbs at the back of his pants. "And I want you to know I'm not too keen on leaving you all in the lurch like this."
Teresa's shoulders slumped as she nodded a little sadly. She had gotten so accustomed to his presence she hadn't yet considered the fact that when she had met him, they were on the train. And that Randall had only intended on riding through Colorado Springs, rather than stay in the small town.
"How silly of me," she pressed her fist to her breast. "Of course, you where going somewhere, when I came along."
"Ms. Teresa," Randall began, wanting to tell her how badly he wanted to stay. Yet, as the words reached his commonly closed lips, he saw Jake's strutting figure looming up the path. Jake's hands swung at his sides as his booted feet kicked out at his pant legs as he walked. Teresa turned following Randall's stare out onto the small porch.
"Jake?" the toe of her boot barely had time to tap the bottom step before Jake waved his telegram in the air.
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Katie pressed her back to the stone corner of the clinics wall. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop on her mother and Cloud Dancing like this, however, the consistent regularity with which she was being sent out of the room had peaked her curiosity. Her long feathered chestnut lashes wriggled as she blinked catching strands of gold and copper fringe into her eyes. Swiping her slender white hand along her brow, to remedy this, Katie reclined her head closer to the open window facing the street.
"This is ridiculous," her mother hissed with uncharacteristic abhorrence. "I'm sorry for my outburst, Cloud Dancing…but…"
"He did not drink," Cloud Dancing was clear. "I watched with my own eyes as he poured out the drink and shattered the vessel upon the ground."
"I must speak to Loren again. Perhaps, now he'll listen to reason. Surely, he would understand the gravity of what this is doing to Jake," Michaela was resolved now.
"He has shown himself to have great strength today," Cloud Dancing went on. "But I am afraid for the young one's should she decide to attack him again. As for Loren. Jake is seeking him out as we speak."
There was slight pause as Katie cast her attentions toward the small figure running down through the meadow. Knowing exactly what her mother and Cheyenne father were discussing, Katie shuttered. She'd had occasion to hear the unfortunate back handed stories, from classmates on the playground, of Mayor Slicker's alcoholic past. The boys relished telling of the height of his downfall, in which he'd stood drunkenly singing atop the mercantile shooting off his gun. Well, she'd nipped them in the bud, but good, on Lucy's first year at school. With Matthew sternly watching them from the meadows edge, they'd made sure that Lucy never prematurely discovered that the father she loved so dearly had been the fool. Now as Katie listened to her mother's and Cloud Dancing's fears, she prayed that this foul secret was not making itself known once more.
"Can not the council voter her out?" he asked innocently.
Michaela remained mute a moment, "Not without president. Certainly, not without proof. And I'm afraid something like this would be placed before the whole town…And what would that do to the girls?"
"Lucy!" Katie ran out into the street just catching her small charge before she could dart passed the saloon.
"Katie!" Lucy was out of breath, leaning one hand up on Katie's shoulder for support. "Mr. McCoy…He says I…can ride his Cin'-I mean his horse Cincinnati. But I gotta ask my Pa first!"
Holding on to Lucy's shoulders in turn, Katie thought a moment, "No Lucy. Your Pa's not up at the shop." Katie nibbled nervously on her bottom lip.
"Then he's at Grace's," she pulled away, taking her dearest friends hand in hers. "Come on. Mr. McCoy'll let you ride Cin' too."
But Katie firmly held Lucy from rapid flight. "Robert E…He's about ready to feed your pony…" She felt she was grasping at proverbial straws. "Betcha haven't seen him since your ma left."
"Yeah," Lucy relented feeling some oddity with the way everyone had been acting around her. However, relinquishing all thought of mass conspiracy, Lucy fell as always to the playful notions of her most trusted companion. "I've been missing him too."