No, it was Miss Electa, he remembered with a scowl and hit upside his own head. How could he have forgotten something like that? All he could hope for was that Abe wouldn’t move Electa out of Fury. Better, he’d move her inside it, so she wouldn’t have that long ride in and out of town every day, and so the town could keep its schoolmarm and Matt MacDonald could have his own private goddamn police force.
This last bit, he thought with some degree of violence, and kicked his desk leg, hard.
“Easy, boy,” he told himself when his toe instantly began to throb and sting. “You don’t want to see your desk go the way of your old chair.” He glanced at the stove’s wood bin, still piled high with broken spindles and chunks of varnished wood. And then he glanced at Davis, still sacked out in his cell.
Sighing, he leaned back in the new chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared out the window at the storm. It had come up quite a bit since he’d last looked. Where there had been minute chunks of flora whirling in the wind before, he now saw a whole branch off a cottonwood, complete with leaves, being blown up Main Street, roughly three feet off the ground.
He sure hoped the Milchers had their cat indoors for this one. A wind like this could carry little Dusty off to San Diego in a half hour!
He watched several fellows try to leave the saloon.
Not a one made it past the overhang, and to a man, they all gave up and went back inside.
Well, that was one thing in a dust storm’s favor. About all you could do during one was drink and play cards. Or pray.
He didn’t reckon he’d be seeing Rafe today, either.
He rolled himself a cigarette, lit it, and leaned back to watch the storm.
The time came to let school out for the day, and Jenny tapped on the anteroom door before she threw it open so that the children could run out. Abe had risen at the sound of her knock, and so all the students and Jenny saw was Miss Morton, primly seated on the bench, and Marshal Todd, leaning against the wall, facing her. The children wouldn’t recognize it, of course, but Miss Morton had a “well and freshly kissed” look on her face and color rising in her cheeks.
“If it’s too far for you to go in one stretch, take temporary shelter in the Milchers’ church,” Jenny shouted after the kids. They’d be a little the worse for wear when they got home, but they’d make it. The town of Fury raised tough kids.
It was taking most all of her fortitude to keep holding off her knowledge of their engagement. But she turned to Miss Morton and said, “You’re not riding home in this. You’d never make the distance! Please, come and spend the night with Jason and me. Marshal, you’re invited for supper, too, of course!”
Marshal Todd, who certainly had nothing better to do, said, “Electa?”
“It’s fine with me, Abraham.”
They were already letting on that they were on a first-name basis? It was a surprise to Jenny, and it must have shown on her face, for Electa said, “Jenny, my dear, we’d like you to be among the first to know. Abraham and I are betrothed.”
“Oh, Miss Morton!” Jenny exclaimed at last, and threw her arms about her employer, hugging her tight. She was as relieved at finally being told as she was delighted for the news, itself. “Oh, I’m so excited for you!”
Miss Morton extricated herself as kindly as she could, and then she stood up. “Thank you, child. We both accept your congratulations.”
But Jenny couldn’t stop herself. She was all over the marshal, then Miss Morton, then the marshal again before she regained what little was left of her composure. “Please, please do forgive me,” she said before a giggle bubbled up. “It’s just that this is so . . .
They scurried out into the whirling wind and rain, and ran all the way to Jenny’s house, where they arrived streaked with muddy rain, but laughing.
When Jason locked up the office— and Davis with it—for the night, it was still storming, but not so angrily as earlier. The wind buffeted him as he made his way up Main Street, and he made a side trip to stick his head out the gate and look down the line of wagons. Not that he could see all of them, but what he saw led him to believe they were all buttoned up tight.
He stopped at the school to see if Jenny or Miss Morton had tried to wait it out, but found the door locked.
He took the rest of the way home at a half-run, half-jog, and vaulted up onto the porch, clearing all three steps in handsome style. “Let’s see you beat that, Matt MacDonald!” he said happily. He was home, and nothing had exploded or burnt down or been ripped to shreds by a grizzly all day long!
But when Jason walked into the house, there was Abe Todd, sitting in
Finally, Abe looked up from the book and said, “Well, how-do, Jason! The wind’s been bangin’ at the shutters so hard I didn’t even hear you come in!”
“No problem,” lied Jason, and forced a smile. “How you likin’ our weather?”
Abe arched a brow along with his own smile. “You’re a funny kid, Jason, I’ll give you that.” And then belatedly, he added, “Say, your sister asked me and Electa to dinner. Hope that’s okay with you.”
Jason’s sigh was audible. “Well, welcome, then! Blowin’ too hard for Miss Morton to ride home, I suppose?”
“That it was. Sounds like it still is, too.” Outside, the storm threw hailstones mixed with gravel and cactus bits at the house. Jason thought it was a miracle that it hadn’t upended the rainwater barrel. Then again, maybe it had. . . .
During supper, Jenny couldn’t stand to hold the news in any longer and announced Abe and Electa’s upcoming nuptials. Jason seemed taken aback, but in a good—and convincing—way, she thought. He was likely thinking that if they stayed on in Fury, he wouldn’t have to put up with Matt MacDonald any longer. She couldn’t have known how right she was.
Jenny was hoping they’d stay, too, but for reasons all her own. First, she in no way wanted the responsibility
