Mistletoe Courtship (7 page)

“I don't suppose God has changed His mind about shooting people?” Colter asked.

The reverend saw where Colter's eyes were going and he started to chuckle.

“Women are strange creatures,” he finally said. “But you have to be careful. Sometimes they take to the man who's wounded and not the one who did the shooting.”

Colter grinned. “I guess they do at that.”

The reverend finished his corn bread.

“Do you know of anyone around here who has a violin?” Colter asked him then.

“Can't say offhand that I do. Maybe Wells has one—his wife is real fond of music. And, his sister, too, with her school and all.”

“I'll ask him. Thanks.”

He decided there was more than one way to compete with Lester. Virginia seemed impressed with the fact that Lester could play the violin. Colter had never seen anyone play the instrument, but he knew his hands were nimble enough to learn anything that required quickness. He'd practiced many techniques to train his fingers to move with sensitivity because a gunman needed nimble fingers. He'd seen Lester fumble around outside just trying to get a leather knot tied so his horse would stay where it was supposed to be. If Lester could play the violin with his clumsy fingers, Colter decided he could, too. All he needed was a violin and a few pointers from someone.

Just then, there was a rush of boys through the door into the schoolhouse and it looked as if Danny was in their lead.

“We found it,” Danny announced in triumph. “The empty can for the kerosene.”

“Ah.” Colter noticed that got the attention of everyone in the place.

“I forgot about the fire,” the reverend said in the silence that followed. “I meant to pray about it this morning in the service. We can't have that kind of mischief in our town.”

There were murmurs of agreement from some of the men present.

“It could be an old can,” Lester said from where he sat on the far side of the room.

“It's got no rust from the snow,” Danny said.

Colter figured there wasn't much to be proved from an empty container, but he liked Danny's enthusiasm for finding out what happened. So he stood up. “Let's go take a look.”

Halfway to the door, Colter decided he wasn't ready to leave Virginia there with Lester. There was no telling what would happen.

“Maybe Virginia can identify it,” he said loud enough for the crowd of men to halt and look over at her.

“She was the only one there when it happened,” old Petey spoke out from where he stood on the side of the church. After he spoke his piece, he grinned back at Colter.

Colter nodded. He owed the man.

“So, is she coming?” another of the old men took up the cry.

By that time, Virginia had stood up. She didn't look reluctant to leave, not if the eagerness with which she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders was any indication.

“I don't know what you can tell them,” Lester said. He was speaking to Virginia, but his voice carried throughout the room.

“It's the fire,” she said to him as she walked toward the door. “We can't be too careful about fire.”

And, with that, Virginia paused briefly as she came up even with Colter and the two of them walked out of the church, leading the band of men and boys.

Colter felt victorious.

The day was warmer than anyone had expected, and he stopped along with Virginia at the foot of the church steps. Snow covered the ground, but the winter sun was shining down. A path had been trampled from the church steps down the main street in town.

“I don't want you to get snow in your shoes,” Colter said as he knelt down to make sure her shoes were securely buttoned. “Who knows where those boys are taking us.”

Colter figured he couldn't be blamed if he lingered a bit. Virginia's high-topped shoes fitted a trim ankle. And the ruffle of her underskirts teased against his hands as he tugged on the fasteners to be sure they held strong. The fine wool of her
dress rubbed lightly against his cheek and he forgot all about the kerosene can. He practically forgot his name.

“Hey,” Danny shouted from someplace ahead. “Where is everybody?”

Virginia reached down and put her hand on his shoulder. “We need to catch up.”

He guessed she was right, so he stood and brushed the snow off his knees. He figured if he knew who wanted to burn his saloon to the ground he would sleep easier tonight.

A
s the sun went down that evening, Colter lit all the lanterns in his saloon. Then he opened the front door and waited for his friends to arrive. What a day he'd had.

The dark red kerosene can had turned out to be one the mercantile had left outside last spring. It had apparently gotten dragged around by a dog or a coyote and lodged up against a clump of sage in back of the livery stable. Boys and men alike examined the can, trying to decide if it had been used in the fire until Colter eventually stepped forward and sniffed at the can's spout. The kerosene smell was so faint he voiced his opinion that it hadn't held anything recently.

By then the men and boys were having a fine time stomping through the snow, looking for clues about the fire and throwing a few snowballs. Finally, the owner of the mercantile declared that, in honor of the boys finding his missing can, he would offer up chocolate enough to make cocoa for any children around if someone had milk to go with it.

Jake Hargrove offered to ride back to his farm and bring in a bucket of milk. By then Colter was feeling affectionate toward the town he'd missed those long months he'd been gone, and
he invited everyone over to his saloon. They'd make up the hot chocolate for the children, he said, and there'd be plenty of hot coffee and tea for the adults. He even had some hard biscuits in a couple of tins he'd brought back with him from Helena. He remembered after he made the invitation that his place had been a saloon and some people might not be comfortable going there, but no one hesitated, not even the women carrying babies.

The graciousness of it all made Colter feel glad to be home. He had wandered all over this country in his younger days, and now that he'd seen the last of his twenties he was fortunate to have friends and neighbors like these. The truth was he had come home in more ways than one during this past year. God had become an anchor for him. And the children—he hadn't asked for either one of them, but they had become his and he planned to raise them as best he could.

When everybody had something warm to drink, they convinced Virginia to play the piano. She started out with some Irish ballads about ill-fated lovers and swollen rivers. Half of the men sang along as she played “Danny Boy.” The women shed a tear or two when the song changed and Virginia herself sang “The Orphan's Prayer.”

The light of the lanterns flickered on the intent faces of everyone as they listened to Virginia sing of the child who had been ignored and left to die. More than one person looked over to the corner where Patricia was sitting with the other children, so Colter figured her story had been passed around. He tensed up at first, but then he saw the glances were all kind. He wondered if the emotion he heard in Virginia's voice was because she, too, recognized the song as being repeated in Patricia's young life.

There was respectful silence when Virginia finished the orphan song, and then a man yelled out from where he stood at the bar, “Play us the mountain one. The she'll-be-a-coming-around one.”

Virginia's fingers started again with a changed tempo and the men began to clap and stomp. Colter felt deep contentment as he sat there and listened. He'd been the last to sit down and he was alone at a table in the back until Petey came and sat down next to him.

“She sure is something,” Petey whispered as he nodded his head toward Virginia. “And not just with her piano. She's been real nice to me and the boys this winter. Had us over for soup on many a cold night.”

Virginia paused at the end of her song to catch her breath and everyone applauded. As the sound died down, Colter turned to the older man. “Soup, huh?”

Petey grinned at him and continued in a low voice. “She can't cook worth much, but she always asks after us like she cares about whether we have holes in our socks and things like that. It does my heart more good than the soup. I'll tell you that much. I never have had the courage to tell her I don't even have socks. I just wrap an old piece of something around my feet when it's cold.”

“Ah,” Colter said with a nod. He wasn't the only one halfway in love with Virginia Parker.

“I've been asking around,” Petey continued. “It seems Lester wasn't in that back room over at his saloon when we smelled the smoke coming from over here. I was holding a pretty good poker hand so I didn't notice, but Shorty was working at the bar then and he went back to check about something. The door to Lester's office was open, but he wasn't in it. He's usually there that time of the day.”

“I see.” Colter had watched as people came inside the saloon earlier and Lester hadn't been among the crowd. Colter thought the other man hadn't come because they were rivals, but maybe there was more to it. Now he felt cautious as well.

“I know it doesn't prove anything,” Petey continued. “But
that morning Shorty had just said he thought he saw Virginia walking down to the mercantile, too. Lester was there to hear it. I don't see him wanting to hurt Virginia. He seems real set on marrying her, but—”

His voice trailed off.

Colter nodded. He had the same questions.

“I think we need to keep an eye on things is all,” Petey finally finished.

“You won't get any argument from me on that,” Colter said. “In fact, if you want a job helping fix this floor here, let me know.”

“It might be nice to be close,” the older man agreed.

“And if you see Lester doing anything else peculiar, let me know,” Colter said.

Petey nodded.

The music continued for another hour or so and then the children started to get tired and parents were bundling up their families for the ride home in the cold. Even though the snow hadn't melted much today, there was no wind and everyone would do fine if they had a blanket to wrap around themselves in the backs of their wagons.

Virginia went around wishing everyone a good night. Colter wasn't sure everyone here tonight had even realized how talented she was until now. People were all complimenting her. He thought she would be exhausted, but, when the children had both gone off to bed and he was the only one left, she went back to the piano. That's when she started to play the Bach music.

Colter had taken some of the used cups into the kitchen so he didn't clearly hear the first chords she played. He'd put some hot water on to heat and offered to do the dishes in Danny's stead tonight. The boy was tired.

The music coming from the other room pulled Colter back
from the kitchen. Empty cups were still stacked at tables around the room, but he sat down anyway at the table in the shadows. He didn't want to interrupt Virginia. She was playing a song that had haunted him during the months he'd been gone. Many a night, he'd tried to figure out why he was drawn to the thin loneliness he heard in the echoes of that song. Virginia had played it twice when she was working in the saloon. Both times she'd looked sad, as though she was remembering things she'd do best forgetting. When he'd been gone, he'd regretted not asking her about it before he left.

How could a song say so much, he wondered, and not use any words?

Sorrow wasn't comfortable for Colter, but he let Virginia take him there with her. She played the song with her whole body as she stretched out to reach keys far from the center of the piano. He had no illusions that Virginia was playing for him or even was aware he was there; he knew she was playing for herself. He was just blessed to be carried along with her.

Time passed and Colter continued to listen as Virginia played through many classical tunes. A few of them she'd played before in his saloon, but most of them were new to him. Finally, the music stopped and Virginia looked up from the piano.

“Oh,” she said when she saw him sitting there.

“That was beautiful.”

“I didn't know anyone was still here,” Virginia apologized and then smiled. “I try not to play quite so many classical pieces when someone is listening.”

“Never stop yourself for me. You play—” He did not know how to explain the depth of it all. “Very well. You obviously love what you're playing and it's very special.”

For the first time, Colter wished he was a man with a smooth tongue. A man like that could put the feelings inside him into
words telling her what her music inspired in him. He felt a jolt—maybe that's what Lester could do. Maybe that's what she saw in the other man.

Virginia pushed back the piano stool and stood up. “Thank you for saying so, but I'm sure you're tired, too.”

“There's still a little hot chocolate left.” Colter had held back a couple of cups of milk in hopes she'd drink some with him after everyone had gone. She hadn't had a chance to enjoy any since she started playing the piano.

“That would be nice,” Virginia said as she walked toward the kitchen. “Just tell me where it is and I'll get it.”

“I can put the milk on to heat,” Colter said as he stood as well and picked up the small lantern from his table.

They walked to the back room together and Colter set the lantern on the top of the cupboard where he'd stored the chocolate. Warm shadows made the plain workroom feel like home. He poured milk into a cast-iron pan and set it on the stove. The coals from the previous fire were strong enough to heat it although it would be slow.

“Oh, the dishes,” Virginia said as she looked at the large cast-iron kettle on the back of the stove that was steaming with water ready for washing.

“I figured you'd want it hot,” Colter said, as he picked up a towel and reached over to move the kettle to the side of the stove to stop its boiling. “But we'll do the dishes in the morning. Tonight is too—” Again he was at a loss for words. “I'd rather have you tell me about your music tonight. I can tell you love it from the way you play.”

Virginia smiled. “I forget sometimes that I had to grow to love it. My father was the musician in our family. His teachers always praised his skill. When he was sixteen, he was invited to tour Europe with some older musicians and everyone said his future was bright. Then there was a fire in a friend's house
where he was sleeping. He survived, but his hands were burned badly. He went to the best doctors, but when his hands healed there were deep scars. He could still play, but it was no longer the same. He'd lost some of his movement. Another student replaced him in the concert tour and there was no more talk of Europe.”

There was silence for a moment and then Colter realized something. “I'm so sorry. It must have been terrifying for you—with the fire here,” he said. “Just remembering what happened with your father.”

“I did not even think of it.” Virginia looked up at him ruefully. “I was too upset about someone burning down your building when I was supposed to be protecting it.”

Colter felt the vise's grip around his heart tighten. “I'd never want you to risk getting hurt to save any building of mine. Promise me you won't do anything like that. Just get yourself and the children outside and call for help.”

He'd rather lose everything he owned than to have her try to fight another fire by herself. How terrible it would be if she burned her hands. Or worse. She could have died if that kerosene fire had had more time to burn before she noticed it. What if she had been asleep upstairs?

“Maybe you should get a room at the boardinghouse,” Colter said. “I'm sitting guard, but a fire—I'd pay for the room, of course.”

“I have money. Besides, I couldn't leave without the children. And it's too late tonight to get a room at the boardinghouse anyway.”

“We'll look into it tomorrow then. For you and the children, too.”

“We don't even know if the person who set the fire is still in town,” Virginia said. “Besides, my father—he wouldn't want me to be a coward. He was quite strong on that point.”

Colter noticed that Virginia had started rubbing her hands when she talked about her father. Maybe she was just beginning to realize the damage the fire yesterday could have done as well.

“It must have been frustrating for your father not to have the use of his hands,” he probed further.

“Yes, it was hard. He missed so much,” Virginia agreed.

By now all the joy had drained out of Virginia's face. The pleasure she'd had in playing her music had gone still.

“Maybe it was hard for you, too,” he guessed.

Virginia looked up at him as if she was surprised at his question. “Yes, but it was different. He'd lost the place that was to be his. It was only hard for me because I couldn't give him what he wanted. I knew he wanted that place to be mine. He'd trained me for that since I was a small girl. But I was never good enough. I used to think I was when I played in a room alone looking out at the trees, but when someone else was there—my fingers just didn't work right.”

Colter nodded. “I've seen the same thing with men who want to be gunfighters. When a man's alone with a tin can, it seems easy. But it takes some getting used to pulling a trigger when someone else is around.”

He could see by the shocked expression on her face that he'd picked a bad example.

“All I mean to say,” he said quickly, “is that you might just have needed some time to get used to the people listening. I've given up guns, just so you know. I did that even before I bought the saloon here. And then when I walked forward in church—well, I'm not planning to go back to living by my guns.”