small.'
Matthew wondered if she had mentioned loving and kissing because she'd heard about Kersti and him. Maybe somebody had seen her slipping out of the marshal's office. He had been worrying about that all day, unable to get his mind off it because he was still a little sore from their doing it three times. He had gone back to wash up for a second time before going to dinner at the Mercantile because he was afraid they might smell Kersti on him. And after dinner, he had gone back and lain down on his bed to think things over and figure out how he could explain to Kersti that they mustn't never, ever do one another again. He'd tell her that it was wrong, considering how he felt about Ruth Lillian and all. While he was working out the words he'd use to tell her, he fell asleep, probably because he'd been awake most of the night, either doing it or listening to her prattle on and on, like she'd been saving up her talk for years. He woke up too late to do his chores at the Livery, and maybe that was just as well because he needed time to mull over what Kersti had told him about B. J. Stone and Coots. He wasn't sure how he should act toward them.
'Penny for your thoughts?' Ruth Lillian said.
'Hm-m? Oh… I was just… wondering about things.'
'Like what?'
'Well, you said you daydreamed about loving and hugging and… all.'
'Doesn't everybody? Well, young people anyway. I don't suppose old Mrs. Bjorkvist daydreams much about kissing and cuddling. But now Kersti-'
'What about Kersti?'
'Well, everybody knows about her and old man Murphy. Everybody except her folks, that is. I don't blame her.'
'You don't?'
'No. The thought of old Murphy touching me makes my flesh crawl, but I can see how maybe Kersti needs a little attention and affection sometimes, and the good Lord knows she doesn't get much of that from her folks. So she gets it where she can. You know what makes me sad about Kersti?'
'What?'
'The way she's sure to get cheated. She'll go with men to get some affection. To have someone to talk to. But the men take their pleasure, then they don't want anything to do with her. And that's small of them.'
'You're right there! I don't know how a man could… Well, I just don't know.'
'My pa says men are a lot closer to wild animals than women are.'
'Ain't that the truth. Say, Ruth Lillian? About your dreaming about loving and kissing and all? Do you have daydreams about… you know.'
'Don't you?'
'Well… sure. But I'm a man, and men are closer to animals, like your pa says. But a nice girl like you…'
'Girls have feelings too. It's just that we keep them to ourselves.'
'I've had daydreams about…. ' Matthew glanced over to see how she would react. '… about you.'
She nodded thoughtfully. 'Hm-m. I'm not surprised.'
'You're not?'
'Well, after all, I'm the only girl in Twenty-Mile-other than poor Kersti-so it would be sort of funny if you didn't think of me that way.'
'And you? Do you ever daydream about me?… That way, I mean? Cuddling, and all?'
She lifted her head and looked at him, her eyes narrowed speculatively. 'Well… yes, sometimes. It's only natural to wonder about things. But, of course, I'd never do anything more than wonder.'
'No, no, of course not. No, me neither. No. But it's nice to know that you think about me sometimes… like that. And maybe even at the same time that I'm thinking about you… like that.'
'Well!' Ruth Lillian stood up and flattened her skirts behind with her palms. 'I'd better be going up.'
He stood up quickly. 'I didn't mean anything wrong.'
'No, there's nothing wrong. I just think it's time to say good night.' She turned back at the door. 'And, Matthew? I don't think we should talk about this again. I'm not saying there's harm in it. But it's… it's sort of on the road to harm, if you know what I mean.'
'I know exactly what you mean. Ruth Lillian. And I respect you for it.'
'Hm-m… well. Good night, Matthew.'
'Good night, Ruth Lillian. Sleep tight.'
As he walked up the street to the marshal's office, Matthew promised himself that he would never do Kersti again. Nor let her do him, which was more like what had happened. It wouldn't be fair to Ruth Lillian, who was always having loving daydreams about him.
And later, as he lay on his bed looking up into the dark, he wondered what Ruth Lillian would think of him if she knew he had committed sin. Not just what he had done with Kersti, but… real sin.
IT WAS SEVEN IN the morning, but it would be a couple of hours before the sun climbed high enough over the mountain behind Twenty-Mile to let the pale autumn sunlight work its way down the wooden façades of the buildings on the west side of the street. Matthew walked across to the Traveller's Welcome, his collar turned up and his fists plunged into the pockets of his canvas jacket. There was a snap in the air, but not the slightest breeze, so when his breath made ghost cones, he could walk through them, and they would brush his cheeks. His head and ears were cold because he had wet his hair and raked it down flat with his mother's genuine bone comb. October already, would you believe it? He'd been in Twenty-Mile seven whole weeks! He'd have to get himself a warmer jacket before the snow came.
As usual on the day before the miners descended from the Surprise Lode, the girls slept late and came down to breakfast looking mottled and puffy-faced. As she dunked a biscuit into her coffee, Queeny admitted that she felt as though somebody had pulled her through a knot hole-and not a smooth one neither! 'Sometimes I think I'm getting too old for this business!' And she snorted a laugh before anyone could agree with her. 'Maybe I should go back to the theater! At least the hours are better! Did I ever tell you I used to dance the Dance of the Seven Veils?'
'Only about two hundred million times,' Frenchy muttered into her coffee cup.
Chinky raised her eyes to Matthew as he filled her cup, and she smiled one of her hesitant, almost wincing, smiles. When he smiled back, she quickly lowered her eyes, as she always did.
Matthew approached Mr. Delanny's table to refill his mug from the big enamelled coffee pot, but the gambler waved him away irritably. He couldn't speak because his handkerchief was pressed to his mouth and he was wheezing and bubbling into it, and he hated to have anyone near him when his dignity was diminished in this way. His lungs had weakened so much in just the two months since Matthew's arrival that he now got through a dozen handkerchiefs a day, and consumed ever-greater quantities of Mother Grey's Patented Suppressant. Matthew occasionally sensed Mr. Delanny's eyes on him as he worked around the barroom. Their earlier one-con-man-to- another complicity had eroded, and now Matthew felt a blend of envy and dislike emanating from Mr. Delanny. Not for anything Matthew had done, or failed to do. Just for his being young and healthy.
And Jeff Calder had made a quick recovery from any gratitude he may have felt toward Matthew for taking over most of his work while always deflecting to him any praise he received from the girls. Not only did Calder assume the boy's accomplishments were the consequence of his own virtues as a watchful and demanding boss, but he shared with his occasional late-night bottle-chum, Mr. Bjorkvist, his suspicion that Matthew was either up to something, or 'didn't have both oars in the water.' What normal boy would work harder than he had to? And what normal boy would go around with a smile and a cheerful hello all the time?
Matthew was sweeping the barroom when Frenchy came down to pick up her usual bottle of whiskey to fortify herself against the night to come. She happened to glance over, and her eyes intersected his before he could conceal the disgust that whiskey always evoked in him. 'What is the matter with you, boy?'
'Nothing. It's just…' He had wanted to talk to Frenchy about this, and now seemed as good a time as any. 'Frenchy, I like you. I really do. But I've got to tell you that I just hate liquor. I've seen what it can do to a person, and I hate to see you putting that stuff inside you. I just… Well, I just wanted to tell you that.'
She allowed her yellow eyes to lie wearily on his for a moment before asking, 'That's all you got to tell me?'
'Yes, ma'am.'
'Uh-huh, well now let me tell you something, boy. As you don't know shit-all about life, you'd do better to
