He gave his horse a final pat, turned up his collar, put his shoulder to the door, and shoved his way outside into what had become a raging torrent.
He immediately wished he was back inside with his horse. The air was full of flying, stinging pebbles and bits of plants, and he couldn’t even tell which direction it was coming from, it whirled so quickly! He felt, more than saw, his way up the street to the schoolhouse, then struggled a bit with the door.
Once in the cloakroom, where Electa kept spare books and school supplies and the cleaning equipment, he slumped on a bench and shook detritus from his hair. At least he’d just had it cut the other day, so the damage to the floor wasn’t too bad. But enough twigs and grit went flying that he took a quick look in the mirror to make sure he didn’t look like the ghost of Pecos Pete—or worse—before he went in to see his beloved Electa.
When he had himself brushed off the best he could, he cracked open the door to the schoolhouse proper, and took a peek inside. Electa and Jenny were at opposite ends of the blackboard, Electa writing out complicated mathematical problems at her end, and Jenny writing out simpler problems on the other, probably for the younger children.
He quietly stepped inside and took a seat along the back wall, behind the students. There weren’t many kids, probably twelve or fourteen, but there were enough of them to keep two women on their toes. The two biggest boys passed something between them, and he immediately stood and took a step forward.
He held out his hand and stared the boy in the eyes. The boy, who appeared to have been kept back a couple of years somewhere along the way, made a face, hissed, “Shit!” and handed over a pocketknife.
“Don’t swear,” Abe said, momentarily forgetting where he was.
“Marshal Todd!”
He looked up to find Electa smiling at him. “Miss Morton,” he said. “I wonder if I might have a word with you?”
“Certainly,” she replied, and added, “Children, will those of you to the left of the center aisle begin working on these problems, and those to the right start work on those that Miss Fury has just written out? I’ll be right outside, Miss Fury.”
“Certainly, Miss Morton,” Jenny replied, as a beaming Electa walked back toward Abe.
He couldn’t help himself. He was beaming, too.
Jason was in his office, and all he could think was, “Lord, not again!” He hadn’t even caulked the doors or windows or floor yet!
It was three in the afternoon but it was nearly as dark as midnight, and this time the rain had come in with the wind, both of them hurrying and flurrying in rapid, nonsensical, lopsided circles that could be as big as a house or as small as his thumb, and all of it carrying the desert into Fury with it.
The mild winters and the pleasant year-round evenings aside, he sometimes hated Arizona. It was a tricky place. Every which way you turned, the weather was out to make a jackass out of you, to make you look foolish. Or worse, to kill you just as surely as it had killed that fellow out in the wagon train, the one with the cactus in his back. What was his name? Frank something. Frank . . . Saulk, that was it, Frank Saulk. They’d been planning to bury him today, along with poor Ward. Practically the entire town was planning on turning out for the funerals. Well, practically the entire town would have to stay home, now.
Until tomorrow, anyway.
Jason couldn’t say that he was looking forward to it. Tomorrow or its proceedings, either one.
He’d had the bad luck to be standing out on the walk, talking to Father Micah, when Abe came riding into town and tucked himself up in the livery, and he was surprised that he hadn’t shown up at the office by now. He wondered if Abe had stopped off at the schoolhouse again. Was he paying court to Miss Electa? It certainly wasn’t to Jenny, that he knew. Jenny wouldn’t have—and couldn’t have—kept that a secret for more than two seconds. But a fellow didn’t get all shaved and barbered and doused in witch hazel to go see a bunch of kids, though, that was for sure.
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 . . . wonderful!”
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.