“Did you find out what you wanted?” Opal asked her daughter.
“I think I found out much more than I wanted to know.”
Houston spent the rest of Friday and all day Saturday making arrangements for the double wedding, ordering flowers, planning for food to be cooked and served.
“You haven’t seen Kane in how many days, dear?” Opal asked.
“A matter of hours,” Houston answered, not letting her mother see her face. She was not going to throw herself at Kane again. She’d made a fool of herself already and she didn’t need to do it again.
On Saturday, there were other matters to consider. Mr. Gates started yelling at five in the morning, waking everyone to announce that Blair had been out all night. Opal reassured him that Blair had been out with Lee, but that made Mr. Gates worse. He shouted that Blair would have no reputation left, and that Lee would have to marry her today.
Between Houston and Opal, they managed to get him to settle down enough to eat breakfast and it was while they were eating that Blair and Leander walked into the room.
And what a sight they were! Blair was wearing an odd garment of navy blue, the skirt barely to her ankles. Her hair was down about her shoulders and all of her was covered with mud, cockleburs, and what looked to be dried blood. Lee was as bad, wearing only a shirt and trousers, holes in his pants and his sleeve.
“Lee,” Opal said breathlessly. “Are those bullet holes?”
“Probably,” he said, grinning good-naturedly. “You can see that I brought her back safe and sound. I need to go home and get some sleep. I’m on duty this afternoon.” He turned to Blair, caressed her cheek for a moment. “Good night, doctor.”
“Good night, doctor,” she said, and he was gone.
For a moment no one could move, as they all stared at the bedraggled figure of Blair. For all her appearance of looking as if she’d been through three catastrophes, there was a light in her eyes that was close to fire.
Houston rose from the table and, as she got closer to her sister, she could smell her.
“Whatever is
in your hair?”
Blair grinned idiotically. “Horse manure I would imagine. But at least it’s in my hair and not on his chin.”
Houston could hear Mr. Gates starting to move behind her. She grabbed Blair’s arm firmly. “Upstairs!” she ordered.
Houston led Blair to the bathroom, turned on the tub taps and began undressing her sister. “Wherever did you get this extraordinary suit?”
Once Blair started talking, she didn’t seem able to stop. Houston unbuttoned her, unlaced a shoe while Blair got the other one, shampooed her sister’s hair while Blair scoured the dirt off her skin—and all the while, Blair talked about what a wonderful day she’d had with Leander, telling the most horrifying stories about maggots, range wars, cut arteries and a wrestle with a woman. And in every story, Leander was there, saving one life after another, and at one point, even saving Blair’s life.
Houston could barely believe that the Leander Blair was raving about was the remote man she’d known for years. According to Blair, Leander was close to magic when it came to being a doctor.
“Fourteen holes in that man’s intestines! And Lee sewed them all,” she said, as Houston rinsed her hair, then shampooed it again. “Fourteen.”
And the more Blair talked, the worse Houston felt. Leander had never once looked at her as he’d looked at Blair this morning, nor had he taken her with him on his calls—not that she wanted to see the inner workings of a man’s digestive system, but the sharing was what she wanted.
Blair had Leander, and after only a few days, he was hers in a way Houston had never had him. And now she didn’t seem to have Kane either. Should she go to him? Eventually they’d have to see one another to talk about the wedding. Houston imagined showing up at his house. No doubt he’d say, “I knew you’d give in. You couldn’t stay away too long.”
All day Saturday, while Blair slept, she hoped Kane would visit her, but he didn’t.
On Sunday morning, she dressed in a skirt of gray serge, a dark green blouse of plissé surah and a gray Figaro jacket, and went downstairs to join her family for church services.
When everyone was seated in the church and hymnals were open, a quiet settled on the people.
“Move over,” Kane said to Houston.
Startled, she moved down so he could sit beside her. Throughout the service, he sat still, looking up at the Reverend Thomas with a bored expression. The instant the service was over, he caught Houston’s arm. “I wanta talk to you.”
He half pulled her from the church, oblivious to people’s attempts to socialize with them, and lifted her to the seat of his old wagon. Once seated himself, he flicked the reins to the four horses and set off so quickly Houston had to hold her hat on.
“All right,” he said when he’d stopped abruptly on the south edge of town under some cottonwood trees near the waterworks plant, “what were you doin’ with Marc Fenton?”