Deborah Bedford - Blessing

“Sure.”

The two of them sat on the floor together while the water in the kettle warmed, watching Joe stalk across the floor as if Laura had just put her through the most demeaning ordeal a cat could ever undergo.

“He’s a nice cat,” Uley said.

“A nice cat that’s gonna have kittens any day.”

They looked at each other and, for some reason, started laughing. “What a crazy thing,” Uley said, almost giggling and giving herself away. “A cat named Joe who’s gonna have babies.”

“You want one of them?” Laura asked. “Moll wants me to sell ’em. She says I could get twenty-five bucks apiece for them, because everybody needs mousers.”

Uley shook her head. “I’d love one. But I sure don’t have money like that.”

“I’d give you one. Since you and your pa picked me up and got me warm. I’d tell Moll it was a thank-you present. She’ll make me give her half the money, anyway. She always does.”

Uley’s eyes widened. “For the work you do?”

“Yeah.”

The kettle was making tinny noises on the stove and Uley knew the water was ready to boil. She stood up to pour it into the deep tin tub in the corner.

“Are you Uley Kirkland?” Laura asked.

“Sure am.”

“Thought that’s who you were. I’ve heard all about you at Ongewach’s, how you jumped on that man that was trying to kill the marshal last week.”

“You have?”

“Yep. Everybody in town knows you. They all say it’s amazing, because you’re such a little thing, without so much as peach fuzz on your chin, jumping on a murderer and getting him down.”

“Is that so?”

“They say you’re just about too good for your britches, never coming into Frenchy’s or Ongewach’s, always talking to them about committing their lives to Jesus and such.”

“Your water’s ready. Come get your bath.”

“That Aaron Brown, he’s one amazing fellow. He was up at Ongewach’s the night before he tried to do the shooting, playing cards and all dressed up and smellin’ good. I’ve got to tell you, it’s too bad he done what he done. He was the best-looking, best-smelling man we’ve had in that place for the longest time.”

It irked Uley, having everybody always talking about Aaron Brown. “Well, he’s sure not smelling very good now.”

“Nope. I bet not.”

Uley hung up two quilts so that Laura could have some privacy. She grabbed some of her own things out of a drawer. “Put these on when you get done. That way you won’t catch your death.”

Laura’s eyes met hers. “Thanks, Uley. I’ve never had anybody take care of me, not since I was little and my mama did it.”

Uley turned away, feigning propriety. She didn’t want Laura to see her face just then. She didn’t have a ma to take care of her, either. “Did your mama die?”

“Yeah,” Laura answered as Uley heard her sinking into the warm tub. “She did. Did yours?”

“She died coming out here.”

“This is real hard country for womenfolk,” Laura said. “That’s why there ain’t any real fine ladies in this town. This is real hard country for ladies.”

* * *

Aaron Brown had never been so glad to see a wet spring snowstorm in all his days. It seemed as if somebody up there was on his side, after all. The snow fell and fell, and by the end of the second day, Olney came in and regretfully told him what he’d figured out already. It would be another week or two before the pass opened and the hanging judge came back into town.

That was sure fine news to Aaron.

Word of the storm and what had happened all over town filtered in, even into the jailhouse. Charles Ongewach had gotten frostbite on his nose trying to find one of Moll’s girls in the blizzard. The mines had closed for two days. Jason Farley had never made it back to his cabin. Everybody figured he’d frozen to death looking for new calves. The county would send out a search party for his body as soon as the snow started to melt. Wasn’t any sense doing it before then.

Uley stopped by to see Aaron once, eight days after the storm, toting a bucket of hot beef pies. “Thought I’d just come by to see you,” she said after Olney let her in. She wasn’t exactly sure why she’d come. She just kept thinking how Laura had talked about him looking good. She decided she’d just go back to make sure he hadn’t gotten any ideas about sharing her secret with anyone. And she felt sorry for him, sitting in jail all cooped up and waiting for Judge Murphy to come. “I brought you some pasties.”

The pasties smelled like heaven to Aaron. “Did you make these?”

“Yeah.”

They stood and looked at each other through the bars. He smiled at her, showing his gratitude, and Uley decided she could forget how he’d blackmailed her so he could send that letter. He didn’t look nearly as good as Laura made him out to be, but his eyes were just as blue as the sky on a June day. Uley looked at his eyes the longest time. She decided she liked them.

“What are you staring at now?” But he was staring at her, too.

“You’d better eat those before they get cold.”

He sat down and obliged her, hoping that, if she saw how eagerly he ate, she might come visit and bring food again. “Don’t know why you did this,” he said. “Nobody’s ever brought me food in jail before.”

“You ever been in jail before? Or is this your first time?” She guessed he wasn’t a hardened criminal. Hardened criminals didn’t carry watches from their mothers and bay rum and Bibles.

“Nope. Never until now.” He decided to make conversation with her between chomps. “I’ve heard all sorts of stories in here this week.”

“Yeah. That weather took everybody by surprise.”

“It’s too bad about Jason Farley.”

“They’re gonna bury him up on the Catholic hill. As soon as it thaws and they find his body, that is.” The Tin Cup cemetery had three hills for burying—the Catholic hill, the Protestant hill and Boot Hill.

“You figure I could talk them into burying me on the Protestant hill?” he asked her. The question seemed to come from nowhere, but he’d been thinking about it all night long. “I used to go to church.”

But Uley shook her head. “Nope. It’ll be Boot Hill for you, Aaron Brown. Although they probably wish they could bury you on the Protestant hill. There’s lots more room there. Boot Hill is running over.”

He laid the remainder of the pasty on the cloth napkin. He wasn’t too hungry anymore, come to think about it.

Uley realized she was staring at him. She lowered her gaze to the ground.

Her unconsciously ladylike action made him think of one other story he’d heard this week. “So you and your father rescued Tin Can Laura out in the snowstorm.”

Uley raised her eyes to his again, and this time she was smiling. “She was out looking for her cat. Joe just had kittens yesterday. Laura’s going to give me one. There’s a gray one I’m going to name Storm. I’ve already been over there to pick it out.”

Aaron couldn’t help grinning. So that was where the rumors had come from. When he started laughing, it came out as a belly laugh, pure and simple. “Everybody in town’s saying you’re sweet on her, Uley. Everybody’s saying that’s why you finally set foot into Moll’s place.”

“What?” She gripped the bars, evidently not totally understanding what he was saying. When she finally figured it out, her face turned as pink as the roses he remembered from back home.

He liked it when she blushed. He hated to admit it, even to himself, that was why he’d told her the sordid story in the first place. He’d known what it would do. He’d known she would look all embarrassed and soft and vulnerable, despite her woolen pants and the funny little hat she wore to cover all that hair. He enjoyed exposing her femininity. He liked knowing a secret no one else did.