Blog#54--Cowboy: Chapter Two--

Two

The horizon was fading, and a sandstorm brewed in the distance. Davendy Springs would avoid this storm, one of dryness and death. And yet, in the midst of the blinding wind, there was hope. The sunset brought in the orange glow of comforting warmth to the souls of the people and none lost complete hope, because there was a feeling in the air. None yet had panicked even though not everything was under control. They had had droughts before; it was the unfortunate likelihood of these parts.

Mariette awoke and she found her head maintaining a mild headache. She winced and noticed the darkening sky. It was wonderful, as she knew that it would get very cool during the night. She put her dress back on, but did not put her corset and went down to see if she had any later appointments. Her father usually jotted them down if she would go up and sleep. It was difficult to sleep at times, and it was a challenge to die of heat in the day and bundle up because of the night’s almost wintry cold.

No appointments were noted and so she went to the kitchen and found Hamsfield eating some cooked ham pieces and next to him was a small glass of water. She looked at it and her throat burned with dry heat.

“Could I have a small glass?”

“Of course, you can have a large glass actually, since I heard news of the tank arriving in two days.”

“Are you sure?” she asked as she went to the cooler and got out the jug of water. Small bubbles had formed the inside of the jug on the edge of the water, but it was still fresh enough not to get sick from drinking it. “I heard at the Sherriff’s office that it wouldn’t be coming.”

“I got the news privately, Marie, from a friend of mine. He says he’s sending the best cowboy in the country to deliver it. He’s loyal, and supposedly very handsome.”

“Yes?” She wanted to sound interested. Was she? Did she want to see this man? Would he come and go anyways? Surely the town didn’t want to lose their best cowboy.

“Will he be staying?”

 

“Yes. To guard the tank, as it will be fresh water. Another tank of water will be sent for the cattle and washing later on in the week.”

Mariette was blushing and her father noticed this. She sat down and he cut her a piece of ham, which she ate voraciously. She drank her water and sat back on her chair in thought.

“Father, you say Belle is cute... do you think I’m pretty?

Hamsfield nodded promptly and set his glass down on the wooden table. “Of course I think so. You’re gorgeous.”

“Then, why do the men not... like me? I mean, I’ve never been approached. Are they... intimidated by me?”

Hamsfield stared at his beautiful daughter for a few moments and smiled almost melancholically. “You look so much like your mother.”

“Oh, dad, let it go. You know we shouldn’t think of the past like this.”

“She was beautiful,” he continued, ignoring her. He sighed. “Are you worried? Did you want to have children soon?”

“No, no,” she said, “not children, no. Not now. I just...” She sighed. She didn’t want to tell her father that she was somewhat in need. She saw Lucibelle and her many suitors, and it pained her heart to know that none of the young men in this town wanted to even kiss her. Did they know she was smarter? Did this really worry them? She had a feeling her father wasn’t telling her something either. Was it strange to want to feel sensual pleasure? Mariette was curious about a man’s power over a woman and thought she was naive to this, and it made her flush almost crimson.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, a small smile painted on his lips.

“You always know, father,” she mumbled, looking away.

“But I don’t want you to go dilly-dallying with anyone. I don’t want you to become infected with things that have been crawling around the men.”

“Father...” she whispered, her tone of voice unnaturally melodic for her.

“Now, don’t be difficult. I know what is dangerous and this is. The woman down at Priscilla’s have had to shave in places you wouldn’t want to know.”

“Father!”

“Listen, Marie, please, I know 19 is old to still be a... still be pristine, and well, I know you’ll be able to find the right man and that I will have examined him before I let you...”

“I believe I am about to die, father. Please do not continue.”

He stopped, nodded, and then there was silence. They ate for a few seconds, and drank their water, until Mariette started to chuckle. He did so as well and they laughed together merrily, heartily at the conversation they had had. Never had he really spoken about it, and it needed not to end stoic and dull.

“I love you, father,” she told him, eating some cooked bacon slowly.

“As I, Mariette, my lovely Mariette.”

***

Mariette went to the market the next morning with Belle and found her gossiping “friends”. They were all standing in a murder under the general store’s shade, cawing their minds out. The worst crow of them all was Margaret Malone. She had curly flaxen hair and bright green eyes. She was often the most hunched, as she was a tall woman and her friend’s ears were often a few inches below her mouth. She would also brag about being attractive and that all the men wanted to marry her. She was 20, and already had she married, but her husband had died, leaving her not so heartless. She was too peppy for her own good and too daft for the sake of anyone around her.

“I heard he was the most handsome fellow in the country.” Mariette heard her ramble about the coming cowboy, about how he had duelled and always won and how he was the Lord’s messenger to save the town.

So realistic. I bet he’s just like the other ones. No, he is like all the other ones. He’ll be perfect for Margie. He’ll leave her here, and she’ll cry and make a baby with another and pretend its his. As if I need a cowboy in my life!

Belle skipped into the store probably to window shop for jewellery and Mariette walked up to the murder, ready for the axe to come down over her own feathered neck.

“He’s an angel, I’m sure,” Margaret said. “Marie, what do you think?”

“I think nothing of him,” she responded seriously. “I think he is simply here to help us.”

Margaret gave her a snide look. She seemed glad that there would be less competition. “So you won’t try on him? I heard he’s no bastard.”

“Try on him? Why should I have to seduce a man? I would much prefer if one would be seduced by my natural charm.” She was overdoing a little but it was amusing to rival with Margie, who was flushing deep scarlet.

“Natural charm? It must come from your French side. You’re too perfect for the rest of us. Now, girls,” she said, turning back to her other friends, “I’ll be waiting for the cowboy first thing in the morning. I’ll be up before the roosters.”

“I’ll be up before the moon shows,” added a friend.

“I won’t sleep!” added another.

Mariette rolled her eyes and went in the general store to buy some fabric. Her evening bonnet was getting too worn and she had enough coins to buy new material to make a new one. It would give her something to do instead of sleep when the chores would be light in the house.

Her father was a clean man and he did his own dishes. She remembered watching him work when she was a small child, how all had its place, and all was religiously cleaned by his products. She would never be able to touch them as they were dangerously toxic for anyone to ingest.

“Mariette!” said the merry clerk, Mr. Biggs, who knew enough French to have a small conversation with her. Small, very small. “Ma petite Mariette!”

“Bon matin, Biggs. I will buy from you four feet of buff cotton please.”

“Making a new bonnet?” he asked her.

“Indeed. You saw the old one, it’s terrible. I feel like a poor girl in it.”

He got out the material from his shelves of many products and cut the piece she wanted very slowly, making no loose ends in his roll. He put it back and she paid for it and left him a small tip. When he saw it, his eyes illuminated.

“Why, Mariette? I need it not more than you do.”

Mariette checked to see where Belle was. She didn’t want her to go tattle-telling on her to father about her generosity. It was nice, but Hamsfield was a little dicey about money these days. Her sister had left the store, probably to go talk with some friends. “I heard your wife was expecting. I want the best for your child. And don’t worry about its costs for the medicine it needs for the first few months. I won’t mind tending to that.”

“That’s awful nice of you, Marie. Thank you.” He circled around the corner and kissed her cheek amicably. He was a middle-aged man with a younger wife whom loved him very deeply. His cheeks were bright red from the heat and he had always been podgy, except for the recent days, where the food had been more scarce. It showed in his face the reduction of fat in his body.

She patted his shoulder and left the store. The Sheriff was invading the town centre, along with his two deputy cronies, Hogg and Rutt. Anderson was his name and he smoked anything he could find that looked or smelled like a plant, except maybe cacti... and even then. She smirked as she thought of this and approached them in wonder. She did not want to butt their conversation, had never been the type to really ask, but the news of the approaching cowboy was interesting for some reason.

Does he really mean nothing to me? she thought. Why does he have to sound so interesting?

Anderson’s booming voice rang through any other voice that tried penetrating the air. All people could hear was him ranting about how they had been slow with the order and how this cowboy guy better be the real deal, or he would kick his mule in the teeth. He’d probably been referring to Rutt. Mariette lingered around the square, avoided the gossiping women and the chatting men who would soon want to enter the saloon for a drink.

The saloon was a nice resting place for visitors and the villagers, and it never got too rowdy. There were card games, and of course the occasional altercation, but no one had yet been shot. Davendy Springs was known to be the only town that had never had a high noon. There had never been a shoot out and only once had the Indians threatened them.

Mariette would sometimes go to the saloon with her father, and stay close to him, as she did not want to be involved with the drunk lechers. Was this why the men stayed away from her? Were they afraid of her father’s reaction? Did they think she was too prude?

I am. I am prude, but I don’t want to be.

“Hey Marie!” called a male voice. It was Hogg, and he had noticed her loitering about. “C’mere!”

She sighed and joined him, giving him a very fake smile. He didn’t notice the sarcasm in her voice as she said, “You look fine, Hogg.” He did look quite nice; he was a handsome young man.

“Well thank you, m’dear. Hey I’ve got a backache, I think I’d need a check-up. Is your daddy home righ’now?”

“Yes, he is,” she responded, rolling her eyes. “But you know, I also take care of problems. I can treat your back myself if you like.” She wasn’t going to let her father do all the work and the town deserved to know that she was also a healer.

Hogg lifted an eyebrow and scanned the whole of her 5 feet 4, pausing at her thighs. He quaked in his shoes and nodded, saying softly,

“What should I bring, deary?”

“Yourself,” she responded almost coldly. “I’ll be waiting for you at six. Make sure you don’t wear something too tight, or too much clothes.”

“Oh I won’t,” he told her, smiling. She nodded once and turned toward the house. A wolf whistle followed her and she wheeled, frowning. Who had whistled? Was it really at her? She saw the three men, and Hogg, who was leaning on his friend and whispering something in his ear. She shook her head, dismissing the sound and entered her home.

She wanted to make bread, but there was so little water and she didn’t like milk-based breads. She would have to deal with it though and so she got out the milk bread recipe and started to cook. Patients came in and out and she scowled as she heard her father’s voice. He was exhausted, and she regretted not helping him furthermore, but chores and cooking had to be done.

As she slipped the bread in the oven, she waited for the patient to exit her father’s office and spoke with her father briefly.

“Father, I’ll take the next patients. Could you take the bread out in forty minutes?”

“Oh no, dear. You take care of the house and of yourself. I’m fine, really.” He sat down and exhaled. His hand found his head and he winced.

“You’re too tired. Let me, please. I already told someone I would help them at six. It’s almost four. Give yourself some time off, you work too much.”

“For a village of 200, this is the minimum I can do.”

“No. I insist, go rest.”

He looked at his daughter and smiled, nodding. “Thank you. I will then.” He stood and walked out of his office and upstairs to his bedroom. Mariette greeted the next patients and took care of them, reassuring them that the cowboy would come tomorrow morning with the water tank. Many elderly were glad to hear it from her, since she and her father, as they would say, were such intelligent people that the whole village could rely on.

“Without you, we would all be dead,” said a older man, patting her cheek cordially. “You’re an angel, love, an angel from God.”

“No, I’m just a maid. Now, up you go. You should be fine. Drink your water, since the tank will arrive tomorrow and all will be well.”

The old man left and she took a small break to eat the bread she had made and drink a glass of water. It was almost six and Hogg would arrive soon. Her father was probably snoozing, and it would soon be cooler outdoors. The cowboy was to arrive and all would be well... all would be right...

The bell on the front door rang and Mariette sprung from her seat and greeted Hogg, who smiled nicely at her.

“Right on time,” she told him.

“Yeah, I... almost couldn’t wait...” he replied, enunciating his words well, as if forcing himself to speak like her. He took off his boots and she led him into her private medical room, which was smaller than her father’s; it used to be her mother’s lounge area. It smelled like her to an extent, of dried flowers and peach extract she enjoyed using as a perfume. It made Mariette feel warm, but also ready to make Hogg’s backache better.

“Could you take off your shirt please?” she asked him. He nodded and did so, looking at her with a look she could not discern. It made her uncomfortable for a moment and she turned away, looking for the anaesthetic cream she would use on him. She opened the top and put some on her hands, rubbing them together.

She turned around and saw Hogg, sitting on the patient table, his back fully exposed. It was white, and lean, a nice back.

“It’ll be cold,” she told him, and he nodded before she put her hands on his back. He did not shudder or shrug forward, but exhaled profoundly as she dug her fingers into his back.

“So it’s the whole back?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he responded, exhaling once more, almost groaning.

“Am I hurting you?” she asked in wonder, perhaps he was very sensitive.

“No, it’s... great. But... you leave me won’nering, Marie...”

“How so?” she asked, as she continued to massage him carefully but as well with force.

“You sound so professional about all this. You can wind down a ‘lil. I don’t bite.”

Mariette shrugged. “I want to prove to the town that I’m a good healer, not as superior as my father, but fair enough.”

Hogg turned his back around, adjusting himself, and she smiled at him. He was a fine young man, a few years older than her and his hair was sandy brown with sunny highlights here and there. His eyes were dark, almost black; it was difficult to see his pupils in this dim lighting. Only two oil lamps burned, one by the window, and one by the door.

“What’s your first name again?” she asked him.

“Dawson,” he replied, his voice smooth, “and I’d like it if you’d call me this.”

“All right,” she answered, blushing slightly. She put her hands back on him and he lifted his hand. She felt his hand touch her belly over her bustier and climb up to her left breast, which he cupped intimately. She stared, unbelieving what had just happened and quickly, she took a step back and scowled. How dare he!? He’s just staring too! He’s looking at me as if this was expected of me!

“Why do you shy, baby?” he asked her, again with a smooth, calm almost seductive voice.

“Why do I shy?” she demanded, her tone edging on rage.

“I thought you wanted this,” he replied sincerely. Why did this sound so real of him? She shook her head, heavily disturbed by the reality of it all.

“No! This is a medical appointment, and I’m not a harlot!”

“I didn’t mean it,” he told her, getting up and picking his shirt from the chair. She found herself on the brink of hyperventilation. “Thank you, for the medical work.” He opened the door and left.

Mariette was clutching the cabinet behind her and she tilted her head, and looked at her feet. All that she had said to him earlier on in the day... he had taken it as something personal. He had misunderstood her, and had embarrassed them both. She knew it and she felt guilty, but only after a few moments of reflection. He hadn’t harmed her... he had been gallant, and she had ruined her chance for something... romantic. At once, she had felt bothered, but now she found that she needed to apologize to him and she burst out of the private room and into the evening’s sunset. She ran down the street and stopped at the Sheriff’s office. She knocked on the frame of the swinging doors and entered. Hogg and Rutt were speaking and when they saw her, Rutt lifted his eyebrow and left the main room.

Dawson crossed his arms. “Yes, madam healer?”

“Dawson, I’m sorry,” she told him. “Could we speak?”

“No, Mariette. I un’nerstand you, and yur ways. They righ’ them people of the village, they tell us we ain’t good ‘nough fur you. I ain’t even gonna try anymore. I liked yur face, and I heard you said you were gonna help me personally, well, hey, I thought it was my lucky day. I was wrong.”

Mariette felt like crying. There was a huge lump in her throat and she held back the tears, but also, the anger. Who was saying this about her? She had never wanted anything more than for someone to notice her for more than simply the doctor’s daughter! This tore her to pieces and she found herself incapable to deciphering the words floating in her mind. She needed to say something, to defend herself, but nothing came and she patted down her dress. She pressed her lips tightly together and looked at him.

“Good evening,” she finally blurted before a heavy sob, followed by tears. She was running out of the office, into the street and back home. He had told Rutt, and he would tell the rest of the village about this false pretentiousness.

This was more than humiliation, it would give Margaret something to gossip about for a week. Oh and the new cowboy would hear about it. This was terrible; she couldn’t believe herself, as she locked the door to her house and went into the kitchen, that she hadn’t said anything to Hogg. Yet, hadn’t he noticed her crying? Would he have enough humanity to take it back?

She did not want her father to see her like this, to know what had happened, and so she went into her own room and took off all her clothes. Dried tears made her neck and cheeks itchy, and the soft cotton sheets were her only comfort that cool night.

Chloé xox
Thanks for reading!! :)