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When Carolyn knocked on the door of the livery, Owen removed the bar to let her in. He took the blankets from her and she set the coffee and sandwich on Tommy’s workbench.
“How is she?” he asked.
“She should be asleep by now. She said she’d be fine, didn’t want her medicine.”
Owen let out a long breath as the youth on the floor snorted and mumbled, deep in a drunken stupor.
“Poor thing,” Carolyn said.
Owen put an arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek. When she blushed, he thought her quite the prettiest woman he knew.
“Stop that!” she protested, but she didn’t move away.
“How did he get so wet?”
Carolyn let out one small giggle. “I shouldn’t laugh. But they were a sight. Ray Benson came to get Tommy when Alec started breaking things up in the saloon. Tommy got there in time to hear... Anyway, Tommy grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him out to the street and dunked his head in the horse-trough. For a minute, I didn’t think he’d let him up again. And then... but you saw the rest.” She was serious again. “I wonder what will happen between them now?”
Owen had no answer as he escorted her to the stable doors. He’d been careful to let her stay for only a few minutes; the sodden youth in the stall wouldn’t pass muster as a chaperon. But he did kiss her cheek again as she left, and when she’d gone back to his daughter, he settled himself into the one chair available, glad for the warmth of the blankets and coffee, wondering how long his vigil might be.
He woke with a start, feeling another presence. The gray light of day had faded; it was just bright enough in the stable to let him see Tommy leaning over the stall and looking down at his son. I must not have barred the door when Carolyn left. I wonder how long he’s been here.
The chair creaked as he got up to stand next to the smith. Tommy’s bronze face was haggard and lined with pain.
“Don't worry, Owen. I won't hurt ’im now.”
The bootmaker put a hand on his friend’s arm and they stood quietly for a minute.
“How did he find out?” Owen asked.
Tommy shrugged. “Dan’l knew, but I don't think he woulda told ’im.” After another moment’s silence, the smith continued, “It’s the only logical answer. Only one man ’round here would’ve ever hurt a woman. An’ Dan’l told us he was gone, didn't he? So we knew it wasn’t some stranger. An’ nobody left town ’round that time, so it musta been someone who died.
“Who died after Elena was killed? Jim Callendar fell offa thet ladder an’ hung on for a coupla days. But he was a li’l, timid guy, an’ Elena—she’d’a chewed him up an’ spit him out. Then ol’ man Travers died, but he hadn't been outa that cabin in three years ’r more. So who’s left? Jus’ Russell. You’d think everybody woulda figgered it out long ago.” Tommy let out a long breath. “Not that it woulda hurt her less then, than it will now. I jus’ hope...”
“So do I, Tommy.”
Once more, silence descended between them. Then Owen realized the blacksmith was speaking to him again.
“You wanna go get some supper?”
“I told Annie I’d stay with him ’til he comes to.”
“Won't be for quite a while, if he’s anythin’ like his ol’ man.” Tommy turned around to lean against the stall. “I got good an’ drunk once m’self, when the school fired Elena. I figgered she’d be goin’ back home t’ her daddy an’ there’d never be another chance for me. Didn’t come ’round for close t’ two days. An’ when I did—boy, I wisht I hadn’t.
“Was she mad—madder’n a hornet that got swatted! Lambasted me up one side an’ down t’other. Said I shoulda known better. Said I oughta learn what love really means. Didn't lose much time teachin’ me, either, if you get my drift!” The smith became serious again. “She’d know what t’ tell ’im, Owen. But he don't listen t’ me. That’s the hell of it. I don't unnerstan’ him, an’ he don’ unnerstan’ me. We jus’ sit an’ jaw at each other, an’ neither one o’ us gets anywhere.
“We’re jus’ so differnt. We look differnt, we act differnt. We even talk differnt. Sometimes I think he swallowed a book as a kid, way he talks.”
The bootmaker essayed a small joke. “You walk the same, though. Nobody ever hears either one of you coming.”
“Guess thet’s somethin’.”
“But I know what you mean. I went through it with Lowell. Came a time when he thought he knew everything. Wouldn’t listen to a word. But he got over it, and Alec will, too.
“We’re old men to them, Tommy. Old and foolish. But I remember when I thought my father was a fool, too. Surprised me how quick he learned everything after that.”
“Las’ time I saw my father, I was five years ol’. I remember thinkin’ he knew everythin’. He was a healer—what you folk call the medicine man. An’ what he couldn't cure couldn't be cured. There was always folks comin’ round t’ see him, bringin’ him presents. He was the biggest man I knew, any way you wanna measure it. That’s what I wanna be for ’im. But somehow it always comes out wrong.”
Owen didn’t know how to respond. After a moment Tommy spoke again.
“Cold in here, ain’t it? Lemme light a fire in the forge. There’s more coal over there in the bin for later.” After the fire was roaring, he added, “I’m goin’ down t’ Joe’s. Want me t’ bring you somethin’?”
“Sounds good. Make it those hot tamales, and about a pound of cornbread.” Owen held out money but the smith ignored it.
“Nope, it’s on me. Can’t let you folks take care of everythin’!”