His newfound fame was a tonic he could not get enough of. Strangers bought him drinks and plied him with questions. He had been there. He had seen the aftermath with his own eyes. He basked in his fledgling fame, intoxicated by the attention paid to him, by the praise.
Lafferty did not mind that another celebrity was created. Club Caine was treated with respect bordering on awe. When Club entered the Long Branch, a hush fell. Whispers broke out. Fingers pointed. Lafferty went over and offered to buy Club a drink. Within moments they were surrounded by men anxious to bask in the glow of greatness.
Lafferty ate it up.
The only sour note came later that night as Lafferty was strolling down Front Street.
“I hope you are proud of yourself.” Seamus Glickman stepped out of the shadows, a folded newspaper in his hand. He threw it in the dirt at Lafferty’s feet. “Take that to the outhouse. It is all it is good for.”
“You sound mad,” Lafferty said.
“You have no idea what you have done.”
“I am making the most of it, I admit,” Lafferty said. “But your worries are unfounded. The situation is temporary. Someone will put a stop to it before too long. Sheriff Hinkle, if no one else.”
“You better hope someone does,” Seamus said. “Or I will drag you to Coffin Varnish, pay their fee, and see if you can shoot as well as you write.”
“Your joke is in poor taste,” Lafferty said.
Seamus bent toward him and poked him in the chest. “Who said I was joking?” he grimly growled. Then, pivoting on a boot heel, he stalked off.
Chapter 17
Jeeter Frost was happy. He could not remember the last time he was happy. Truly, really, feel-it-in-his-heart happy. He kept wanting to pinch himself to see if he was awake.
Amazing, the difference a woman made, Jeeter mused. He breathed deep of the dry earthy smell of the prairie. In the gathering twilight he and the gruella were moving shadows. He rose in the stirrups but could not see the schoolhouse. Soon, he told himself. Be patient.
But it was hard to be patient when Jeeter spent every minute away from Ernestine thinking about her, missing her, wishing he was with her. He had never felt this way about anyone except maybe his mother when he was small, and that had not been the same.
There was a word for how Jeeter felt. A word he never expected to apply to him. A word others experienced but never him. Until now.
Jeeter was in
Never in his life had Jeeter been so scared of anything as he was of losing Ernestine. Part of his fear stemmed from his astonishment that a fine lady like her cared for a worthless husk like him. Another part stemmed from the fact that she had not made her own feelings plain. All the hours they had been together, all the intimate moments they shared, and not once had she come right out and revealed her feelings. He took it for granted she liked him as much as he liked her, but what if he was wrong? he asked himself. What if it was one-sided?
Jeeter decided enough was enough. Tonight he would ask her. Tonight he would find out the truth. It made him nervous. It could be he would spoil everything. It could be she was not ready to commit herself.
“God, why is life so mixed up sometimes?” Jeeter asked the gruella. He spied a white shape in the distance, and a swarm of butterflies took wing in his stomach.
The lamp was in the window, her signal it was safe.
Jeeter came to the back of the schoolhouse and reined up. He let the reins dangle, not the least worried about the gruella wandering off. It never did. That horse was the one constant in his life, the only thing besides himself that he had depended on all these years.
At Jeeter’s light knock Ernestine opened the door. Where previous nights she had drawn him into her arms and warmly kissed him, tonight she stepped to one side and said formally, “Welcome, Mr. Frost. Come in and have a seat, won’t you?”
The swarm multiplied into a legion. Jeeter’s legs felt rubbery as he moved past her, his spurs jingling. “Is something the matter, ma’am?”
“What could be the matter?” Ernestine rejoined. “I just want to talk.”
Jeeter went all the way to her desk, faced her, and leaned against it with his arms across his chest. He should say something but his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth.
Her hands clasped in front of her, Ernestine came slowly down the aisle. “I have been doing some thinking,” she said softly. “Some serious thinking about you and me.”
“I feel I have been remiss in a certain respect,” Ernestine said. “I have let things get out of hand.”
Jeeter found his voice although it did not sound like him. “In what way?”
