21
Shannon walked into Murphy’s mercantile with Cherokee’s six-gun shoved into a belt at her waist and an irritated Prettyface at her side. She didn’t know how much time had passed since Whip left. She knew only that the aspens had been a vivid, living green while he was here and had turned to beautiful, unliving gold since he left.
She felt the same as the leaves. There had been a time of pouring sunshine and growth and beauty; and then the world had turned and everything had changed.
A pity that I’m not like those bright, lifeless leaves, able to lift on the wind and be whirled away forever.
But I’m a woman, not a leaf, and Cherokee needs me. That ankle of hers will never be the same.
Maybe one day I’ll get used to Whip’s loss the same way Cherokee is getting used to her changed ankle. Maybe one day the pain will no longer surprise me, making me feel as though it has just happened all over again for the first time.
As Shannon quietly looked over the merchandise, a miner she had never seen before started arguing with Murphy over the weight of the slab of bacon he had on the scales.
«Five pounds?» scoffed the miner. «Hell’s fire, man, back home I have me a redbone hound what whelps bigger pups than that there miserable hunk of bacon.»
«Then maybe you oughta go back and smoke one of them pups to et with your beans, rather than waste my time with all yer whining and —»
Murphy’s words stopped cold when Prettyface walked out from behind a stack of dried goods near the front door. The storekeeper stepped back from the counter so quickly that the scales jumped, rattled and settled into a new weight.
«Three pounds and some for good measure,» the miner said with satisfaction. «That’s more like it. Folks in Canyon City tell me you’re a real cheeseparing son of a bitch, but I guess they was thinking of some other Murphy.»
The storekeeper grunted unhappily, took the miner’s money, and sacked up the remaining supplies without another word. When the miner turned around with his supplies in hand, he spotted Shannon.
«Well, Lordy me, would you look at this sweet little thing,» he said, walking toward Shannon. «You Clementine or Betsy?»
«Neither,» she said tightly. «I’m Silent John’s…widow.»
Murphy’s eyebrows shot up but he kept quiet.
The miner halted. He looked chagrined at his error, but was no less eager to talk to Shannon.
«Sorry, ma’am,» said the miner. «Mean no insult. No one told me there was more than two women loose in Echo Basin. Can I make it up to you over supper?»
«Thank you, no.»
«Can I come calling?» he asked, walking forward again.
Prettyface’s upper lip lifted in a rippling, gleaming snarl.
The miner stopped dead.
«There would be no purpose in calling on me,» Shannon said neutrally. «I will never offer the kind of companionship you’re seeking.»
«And if you’re of a mind to just help yourself anyway,» Murphy said from behind the counter, «this here gal belongs to a man called Whip Moran. He told me that most particularly, just ‘fore he went off looking for gold. He been gone a month or two, but he be comin’ back soon enough, and there be pure fiery hell to pay if’n his woman is bothered.»
Shannon wanted to object that she was no longer Whip’s woman, he wasn’t off looking for gold, and he wouldn’t be back at all. But she kept her mouth tightly shut. For a time, at least, Whip’s reputation would help to protect her in the same way Silent John’s had.
«Whip?» asked the miner unhappily. «Be that the one what sent them four Culpeppers straight to hell?»
«Yeah,» Murphy said with malicious pleasure. «And if that ain’t enough to take the starch out of your pecker, Whip’s brother is a gunfighter called Reno.»
The miner looked even less happy.
«And Whip told me right forcefully,» Murphy continued, «that Caleb Black and Wolfe Lonetree think of this little gal as one of the family. Any man goes to botherin’ her will answer to them. And her dog ain’t no bargain, neither.»
Shannon gave Murphy a shuttered look and wondered just how «forcefully» Whip had presented his arguments to the storekeeper. Whatever had been said or done, the result was a remarkable improvement. It was clear that Murphy wouldn’t be acting anything but respectful toward Shannon.
The thought of Whip trying to see to her welfare from afar was another knife turning deep in Shannon’s soul. Whip had left the larder full of store-bought supplies, Cherokee’s smokehouse full of venison and fish and grouse, and firewood stacked to the eaves all around both cabins. Reno had found enough gold that Shannon could leave Echo Basin and live in comfort anywhere she wished.
There was no doubt that Whip had cared for her very much.
But not enough to stay.
May God keep you, yondering man, Shannon prayed silently as she had many, many times in long, painful weeks since Whip had left. May you someday find what you want.
And may it want you in return.
«Excuse me, ma’am,» the miner said politely. «I’ll be getting along, now.»
Shannon tore her thoughts from Whip to the miner, who was standing with his arms full of supplies and watching Prettyface with wary eyes.
«The dog is betwixt me and the door,» the miner explained.
«Prettyface,» Shannon said, stepping to the side. «Come here and be quiet.»
After another seething snarl, Prettyface subsided. When Shannon walked toward the counter, the dog followed. But he never took his wolf’s eyes off the miner.
The front door of the mercantile slammed shut behind the miner, shoved by a gust of cold September wind.
Shannon felt the chill and pulled her worn jacket more closely around her body. September had been filled with storms and wild, icy winds. Elk and deer had already left the high country, sensing that the first heavy snows of the season could come at any time.
That was what had forced Shannon to come into town. She needed to buy warm clothes for herself and supplies for Cherokee. The old woman was in no shape to make the trip herself…although Shannon suspected that Cherokee was lying in ambush somewhere back up the trail as Silent John often had, making sure that Shannon wasn’t followed.
«Good afternoon, Mr. Murphy,» Shannon said, approaching the counter. «Would you please fill this order for me while I select some warmer clothes?»
Murphy grunted.
«And Mr. Murphy?»
He grunted again.
«Keep your thumb off the scales,» Shannon said crisply.
The storekeeper grinned. «Whip told you.»
«He didn’t have to. I’ve known for years that you cheated me. Silent John accepted it as the price of doing business close to home. But I don’t. If that means going into Canyon City for supplies, I will do so.»
«No need to get your water hot, missy. I’m not about to go and get in Whip’s bad graces.»
«Or mine?»
«Or your’n,» Murphy agreed. «Folks what is smart enough to come in out of the rain don’t have no trouble with me.»
«Good. My pack mule is outside. Please load the supplies for me when you’re done.»
«Cost you three dollars extra.»
«One.»
«Two.»
«One and two bits.»
«You drive a mean bargain, missy.»
«Not really. You load Betsy and Clementine’s supplies for free.»
«They throw in a little, uh, extra for my trouble.»
Murphy leered cheerfully.
«One dollar and two bits,» Shannon said coolly. «Do we have a deal?»
Sighing, Murphy nodded.
Shannon handed over her supply list and went to the piles of clothing that were scattered about the mercantile’s floor. By the time she had found two warm jackets, four warm shirts, two pairs of wool trousers, and everything else required to turn winter’s icy winds, Murphy had sacked up and loaded her supplies on her pack mule.
«Add these to the total, please,» Shannon said, dumping the clothing on the counter.