at the table.
Several times Kirby found himself unable to sit still and got up to stride the length of the room, his footsteps muffled by the sawdust. Once Josh got up and left the saloon without a word. When he returned, he shook his head at the unasked question. 'No change,' he murmured.
The short winter afternoon wore away, and twilight's purple shadows crept in through the big front window. Joe lighted one kerosene lamp above the bar. 'Can't afford to light up the whole place,' he mumbled apologetically. 'Don't need much light when there's no customers.' He went into the rear and returned in a little while with a battered pot of coffee. 'It's a mite strong,' he admitted, as he poured brew black and strong enough to float a ten- penny nail. 'The restaurant's closed, but say the word, and I'll try to scare up some sowbelly and beans.'
Kirby shook his head. 'Reckon we don't feel much like eating now,' he replied. 'Thanks for the coffee; it helps.'
The afternoon and evening passed with scarcely an interruption. When the summons came it was something of an anticlimax. Bill and Hub Dawes stamped into the saloon, laughing at some joke of their own. At first they did not see Kirby and Josh at the table. Bill gave a start and was about to say something when the door was thrown open and a boy burst into the room. Kirby knew he was the son of the woman who was nursing Jen. He was getting to his feet when the boy told them excitedly, 'Doc says for you to hurry!'
Without a glance at the pair at the bar, they ran from the saloon, leaving their coats behind in their haste.
Doc met them at the door. 'I think the crisis is coming,' he told them. 'If she pulls through the next hour, she'll have a chance. Thought you should be here.' They followed him into the sick room. Jen had once again slipped into a coma. The doctor shook his head. 'She was conscious a few moments ago.'
Jen was restlessly tossing her head from side to side on the damp pillow. Occasionally she gave a little cry. Her hands, thin to the point of transparency, clutched at the bedclothes. Maria bathed her feverish forehead with a cold cloth. She looked up and met Kirby's anxious gaze, and then her eyes shifted to someone standing at his side. Her face showed shock, and he took a look around. Bill was standing there, hat in hand, his face pale beneath the ever-present stubble of beard. 'I didn't even know she was sick,' he murmured, conscious of Kirby's scrutiny.
Kirby knew an instant's violent rage. Then he mused: In his way, he loves her, too. He has a right to be here. He pulled his eyes back to Jen's face. She was fully conscious, he could see at a glance. Her eyes were bright with fever, but he could see that she knew the people in the room… the doctor, Maria, and standing in silence at the foot of her bed, Bill and himself. Her glance moved back and forth. 'Kirby,' she whispered. 'Bill…' Bill moved impulsively, and her eyes widened, closed, and then opened again to look at Kirby. Something like a smile touched her wan lips, and she held up a thin, trembling hand for an instant. 'Kirby,' she said aloud. With one long step he was at her side, dropping his long shape on his knees. Once again a fleeting smile crossed her lips as he slipped an arm about her shoulders under the pillow and laid his cheek against hers. She closed her eyes, whispering once again, 'Kirby.'
For a long time he held her, unaware of the other people in the room. He heard the thudding of his own heart, and then, after a while, he realized that the breathing of the girl he held in his arms had changed. She was no longer gasping for breath in convulsive, painful, wracking sighs, but was breathing deeply, her breasts rising gently. He knew wonder. He turned his eyes to Maria's, across the bed. 'She's asleep,' he whispered. Maria nodded. Her face was relaxed, smiling. In a moment she came to his side. 'Leave her to sleep, now. She needs rest.'
Kirby carefully withdrew his arm. She murmured his name again in deep sleep as he covered her gently and as quietly as he could, got to his feet and followed Josh from the room.
Doc Williams waited in the parlor, his tired face wreathed in a smile. 'She'll make it now, men. She needs rest and sleep. And no excitement. Come back in about a week if you want. If there's any change I'll send for you.' He paused and blew his nose violently into an enormous bandana. 'Times like this, I'm glad I choose this profession. Right now I could stand a drink and a smoke. Wait until I get my coat.'
While he was gone, Kirby gave Josh a steady regard. 'When did Bill leave?' he demanded.
Josh's reply came in the tone of a man holding a grudging sympathy. 'When she went to sleep in your arms,' he replied. 'He was cryin' like a baby… like he used to when you took one of his toys.'
Doc joined them then, and they tramped the snow-covered street back to the Nugget. It was Josh who first noticed the change in the weather. 'The wind's shifted to the south,' he said wonderingly. 'And by golly, it's warmer. Looks like we're goin' to get a thaw.'
Hub Dawes was standing at the bar talking to Joe when they went in. He listened, eyes on the floor, as they answered Joe's questions about Jen. He said nothing. Joe set a cobwebby black bottle on the bar. 'Been savin' this,' he said proudly. 'This is the occasion. Join us, Dawes. On the house.'
Hub moved his burly figure down a few steps, stood waiting.
As Joe filled their glasses, he asked: 'What hapened to Bill? He came roarin' in here lookin' like he'd lost his last friend, bought a quart, and left without paying.' Joe's voice was anxious. 'Hope he doesn't drink it before he gets back to Lazy B. This ain't no kind of weather to fall off a horse drunk.'
Hub spoke sneeringly. 'He won't get drunk. Guess he was just worried about the Bryant filly. Me, I always say no female is worth worrying about… after you get what you want.'
Josh was nearer to him, so he beat Kirby's move. His hammer-hard fist, brought up from the knees, caught Hub flush on the point of the chin. Hub's boots flew up, and he measured his length in the sawdust, jerked a time or two and lay still.
Doc leaned over and looked at him interestedly. 'Speaking as a medic,' he said, 'my diagnosis is that he will sleep peacefully for a spell. In the meantime, shall we refer to that wonderful bottle of yours, Joe?' He gave Josh an admiring glance. 'For an old man, Josh, you sure pack a powerful wallop!'
Josh scowled. 'Who's an old man?' he began belligerently, then, catching Doc's grin, dropped his voice. 'I always say a man is as old as he feels. Right now I'm just a kid. Joe, haven't you got any bigger glasses? I'd like a real snifter before that bottle goes back into hiding.'
A new voice broke into their conversation.
'Danged if I ever saw anything like it,' said Sheriff Lon Peters. 'You ain't been to town for a month, Kirby, and the first dad-busted thing I know you got somebody stretched out on the floor. What did this one do… and what's in that bottle?'
'A nose like a bloodhound,' said Joe, pouring a fresh glass. 'All I got to do is get out my special stuff, and the sheriff comes in before I can get the cork back.'
'It's so seldom you put anything out on the bar except footwash, a man can't help noticing.' The old lawman sighed. He looked at Kirby. 'Remember that gunhawk who was going to take you on when I bent my best cutter over his head? Saw him in Wellsville the other day. Had the nerve to speak to me. Said to tell you he'd see you sometime. Never did like a danged hired gun. Wish you'd salivated that one.'
'I'm not much scared.'
The sheriff sighed again. 'If you leave that feller on the floor, he'll catch cold. Well, I gotta go serve a paper.' He ambled out, followed by the smiles of the men at the bar.
'Anyone thinks Lon is soft as he sounds is sure in for a big surprise,' said Doc. 'He's as salty as they come.'
Kirby's heart was singing as they rode back to Wagon that night. Jen was going to get well; he could see her again soon. She was safe in Maria's capable hands. Josh, as usual, had been right. There was going to be a real thaw. The snow was already getting sloppy, and the wind that fanned their cheeks was almost a chinook.
'This is a real strange winter,' he said to the foreman. 'Three blizzards and a spring thaw, and Thanksgiving is just over.'
The reply held worry. 'I just hope there ain't too big a thaw higher up. I'd hate to see the Clear flood before our stuff gets a chance at bottom graze.'
The springlike breeze continued to blow that night and, combined with a bright sun the next day, soon turned the country into a sea of water. By the third day cattle that had been content to stay near the feeding corral drifted to the hills, where the snow had melted enough for grass to show through in spots, some of it showing the green of new growth.
Josh shook his head in wondering doubt, and sent riders to parts of the graze unchecked since before the first snow. Their report was better than he had hoped. As nearly as he could tell, he said to Kirby, they hadn't lost more than five percent of their herd. The crew was even able to make a drive to bring closer to headquarters parts of the herd that had wintered thus far in the hills marking Wagon's most distant boundary.
