Perfect Heart
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The town of Perfect Heart was just a few miles west. The train would reach it by noon, according to the station master at Cripple Creek. It seemed a good place to hide out. After all, there were only three saloons and no brothels—at least none that she had heard about.
A man named Jock MacLeod ran most of the gambling halls in this part of Colorado. He even owned the hotel here at Perfect Heart and the one up on the hill where he lived. There were rumors that he used his influence to keep prostitutes away from other hotels.
In any case, it was clear that men who wanted women went elsewhere. This town might seem quiet if it weren’t for those three saloons and the fact that so many men came back year after year to play cards or gamble or drink whiskey with friends.
It wasn’t an attractive place, but it didn’t attract attention. And if Jock MacLeod knew anything about her, which he did since she worked for him, then he could easily spot her when she stepped outside the hotel. She would be a sitting duck.
“There you go again,” said Tomlin, her faithful horse. “You’ve already decided to come here.”
She looked down at him, wondering what had gotten into him today. They left early as usual, before dawn, and now they had reached Perfect Heart. She didn’t know how much time she had left, but she intended to make it count. If the sheriff found out about her before she met with her contact, it would be over.
They rode up to the side door of the hotel. Just ahead of them the railroad track curved around. On their right stood an empty lot where once stood a house that had burned down years ago. Across the street was another building. It was stable.
That might be where Jock kept his horses. But why? What kind of woman traveled alone, riding a horse, instead of taking a stagecoach? No wonder people thought she was some sort of outlaw. Or worse.
A black cloud covered the sun, and rain began to fall, making her shiver. She pulled off her hat and let water drip onto her hair. It was hot enough during the day for a woman to ride without wearing her bonnet. At night it became colder than she expected, even though the wind blew coldly against the hotel window as she stared out at the rain.
She glanced across the street at the stable and saw movement through the windows. She couldn’t see anyone outside, but someone was inside. Could that be…
Tomlin nudged her. He whinnied loudly, pawing the ground nervously. His eyes were wide as he watched an approaching figure.
The man stopped beside the stables. She recognized him instantly: Jimmie O’Rourke. The man who stole her gold nuggets.
“Well, well!”
Jimmie’s voice rang loud in her ears. She jumped and almost fell from the saddle. The horse danced nervously and kicked dirt as if preparing to run away.
But there was nowhere to go. Even if she wanted to leave, she couldn’t get out of the hotel’s yard.
“What are you doing here?” asked Jimmie.
“I have nothing to say to you,” she said coldly. Then she noticed the gun in his hand.
“That depends on your answer.”
He aimed the weapon at her belly. “Do I need to shoot you? Will that shut you up?”
“Please don’t do this,” she whispered. “I will tell you everything.”
He raised the pistol. It was a Colt. Single-action revolver, not like the ones used by the lawmen in town, which fired in a double-action fashion. He must use it when he played poker or dealt cards.
Her stomach fluttered. The man was going to kill her!
“Don’t do it, Mr. O’Rourke,” cried Tomlin, sounding frantic.
His head swung around to look at the horse. “Who is that?” he yelled to someone.
A moment later a young boy appeared with a bucket of grain. Jimmie tossed it toward the horse, then turned back to face her.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked.
“No—” She swallowed hard. “You didn’t hurt me.”
“Good.” He took off his hat, ran his hand over his gray hair, and put it back on again. “I’m glad because we need to talk.”
He looked around quickly. “Are you alone?”
“Yes—no.” She hesitated before admitting, “My brother is here.”
Jimmie nodded as if he already knew that.
“We can’t meet anywhere else,” she explained as calmly as possible. “It has to be here. I won’t be able to get away after we finish talking.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly. So that was the way it was going to be. Fine.
As if she hadn’t spoken, he ordered her, “Come with me.”
She followed him around the corner of the stable building, and he opened the side door of the hotel. As soon as she entered the lobby, she froze in amazement. Instead of sitting at the front desk, as expected, a man sat behind the bar.
He wore a white shirt and a vest, both tucked into his trousers, and his hair was long and tied back, leaving his neck bare. There was no sign of the woman who usually worked the register. Had she quit? Did that mean the owner had changed the hotel’s name again? Was it still called the Double Arrow or did they call it something new?
A small group of men gathered near one end of the counter, playing poker as they chatted. Most of them seemed to notice Jimmie and gave him a wide berth. One of the women standing nearby eyed Tomlin suspiciously as she passed by on her way to the dining room.
Jimmie led her past the bar to the rear of the main floor and into a smaller room where several tables were set up. The walls were painted brown and the chairs were dark wood. They were the same colors and furniture as before, except for the addition of a piano and a couple of shelves filled with books.
“This is my office,” said Jimmie, looking around carefully as if he expected someone to jump out and shoot him. He walked to the desk and picked up a paper that looked like a bill. He flipped it open and read the itemized list of charges for the day’s guests. A glance at his watch confirmed her suspicion that he was running the place single-handedly.
He placed the papers on top of the desk and then looked up at her with narrowed eyes. He had the same piercing gaze she remembered from the train.
“What do you want to know?” she demanded.
“First off, what business does your brother have in Arizona?”
“None whatsoever.”
He cocked his head as if considering whether to believe her. “Why is he staying at our hotel? I thought the railroad only runs through Tombstone?”
“He works at a store in town.”
He grunted skeptically. “He also looks old enough to work a saloon.”
“No, he doesn’t. He’s sixteen and can’t be in a saloon.”
“He could be working at any kind of business in Tombstone. Why are you hiding him here?”
“Because it is too dangerous for him to stay in our house.”
“How so?”
“Just last week—”
“I heard about that,” he interrupted. “Was it a shootout? Or some other trouble?”
“No, it was an accident.”
“An accident!”
She shrugged uncomfortably. “Our mother is ill and needs medical care, but he can’t afford the cost.”
“That’s why you brought him to our hotel? To save money?”
“It wasn’t our idea,” said Tomlin hastily. “We didn’t tell anybody.”
Jimmie glanced at Tomlin as if weighing whether to believe him. Then he faced her again. “Tell me what happened. Don’t leave anything out.”
After explaining how their mother had taken ill, she told him everything that had happened since they arrived in Tombstone. She left out her brother’s involvement until she reached the part about the man in the alley.
When she finished, Jimmie listened intently without interrupting and occasionally made a comment or question. At last he sighed and shook his head slowly as he folded his arms on the table and leaned forward.
“That sounds horrible. And you don’t think there’s been any more trouble?”
“Not that I know of. We haven’t stayed away long enough to find out.”
“And now your brother will be working in a saloon?” Jimmie asked, looking disgusted. “Do you expect him to be safe there?”
“There are no other jobs available right now. That is the only place where he’ll be able to earn money to pay for his mother’s treatment.”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You expect me to take your word for this?”
“Yes.”
“Forget it!” He got to his feet so abruptly that the chair crashed over. “The very thought makes me sick.”
She started to protest, but he stopped her with a wave of his hand. “I wouldn’t be surprised if I find out your brother is a criminal,” he added bitterly. “If you don’t want me to ask around, then give me a reason not to. Otherwise, I’m going to turn you back into a man, throw you out of this hotel, and call the police.”
“Please! Don’t make me do that.”
“I won’t make you do anything. But I will keep this information just between us.”
“Thank you.”
“What happens when we finish with the investigation?”
“As soon as I get married,” she replied. “I hope by then I’ll have found my husband and we’ll have a real home.”
Jimmie smiled grimly. “Don’t count on it.”
***
Tomlin was glad that Jimmie did not seem suspicious about Tomlin’s brother. After all, Jimmie was the one who’d hired him as an extra guard in the first place. And even though he was a bit older than Tomlin, Tomlin figured Jimmie couldn’t possibly be jealous because he already had a woman to spend his life with.
In fact, Jimmie was a little too friendly, treating them as if they were old friends instead of strangers. Maybe Jimmie wanted to soften them up before telling them the bad news about his mother. They knew nothing of Jimmie’s feelings toward women.
The two boys had always assumed that their boss had a wife or fiancée somewhere in San Francisco. Now Tomlin hoped Jimmie hadn’t found out about his relationship with Alice. That would explain Jimmie’s sudden change in attitude.
On Sunday morning, Jimmie led them to a church in the town where several men and women were singing hymns, while the rest sat in chairs facing the pulpit. It took a moment for Tomlin to realize he was in a Catholic church, because of the cross in front of the altar and the statues on the altar table.
He noticed that Jimmie seemed uncomfortable at being surrounded by such people, especially since the priest was a man he’d never seen before. Jimmie tried to sit in the back of the congregation like everyone else, but Father O’Rourke approached the pulpit and invited Jimmie to stand in the aisle near the podium.
With a curt nod of his head, Jimmie walked to the front and stood next to the altar. A smile spread across Tomlin’s face as he looked at Jimmie’s profile, wondering if Jimmie might be a practicing Catholic. When Jimmie knelt down and closed his eyes, Tomlin knew he was. It explained Jimmie’s strange reaction to the presence of priests.
As they waited for Mass to end, Tomlin and Jimmie talked in low tones, keeping their voices to themselves as much as possible. Tomlin had to admit that he liked Jimmie, even though he didn’t share Jimmie’s religion.
But he had to admire Jimmie’s ability to work under stress and his willingness to help people in need. Tomlin had often wondered why Jimmie would take such risks if he were just interested in making a living. His father was a gambler and Jimmie’s gambling habits were legendary.
In fact, his gambling habits almost ruined his business and nearly ruined his life. So Tomlin could understand Jimmie’s decision to avoid risk where he could.
When Father O’Rourke ended Mass, Jimmie came back to the pew with them. “I’ll be heading home today,” Jimmie said. “So I’m afraid I won’t be able to escort you around town.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Tomlin said, hoping Jimmie would leave without asking any questions.
But Jimmie remained seated beside him, waiting for someone to speak. Tomlin turned to him and saw that his boss was holding a folded piece of paper in his hands. He held it out toward Tomlin, who took it from him and unfolded the note. It contained directions to a boardinghouse outside of town, but no further information. “Where’s your mother?”
Jimmie shrugged his shoulders. “You can tell by reading this.”
“Why don’t you tell us now? We can walk back to town together and then go our separate ways.”
Jimmie shook his head. “That would be against the rules.”
“Rules?” Tomlin asked sharply, not liking what he was hearing. What kind of game was Jimmie playing here?
“The rules are clear: we are not allowed to talk to each other once we’ve left the station. No exceptions!”
“Then we’re leaving right now,” Tomlin said. “If that’s how you want it.”
Jimmie nodded.
Tomlin turned away to leave the church as Jimmie called out after him. “Wait! Please wait! I’ll come with you.”
Before Tomlin could ask Jimmie why he suddenly changed his mind, the priest joined them and told them they should follow him into town. As they headed out of the church, Tomlin glanced at Jimmie. His boss looked miserable.
Tomlin wondered what Jimmie was thinking. Was he sorry he’d taken them into town, only to find out that his mother was dead? Had he made a mistake? Maybe Jimmie was having second thoughts about letting the two boys stay with him.
Jimmie’s misery seemed to weigh heavily on Tomlin’s mind as they climbed on top of their horses and rode out of town.
***
When Tomlin and Jimmie returned to the ranch house, they found Jimmie’s mother waiting for them outside. She was crying. “My poor son,” she said when she saw Jimmie’s face. “What did they do to him?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed on his shoulder. For a moment Tomlin felt awkward because he didn’t know how to comfort her in the situation. He was surprised by Jimmie’s reaction to his mother, which seemed so cold considering that they shared the same mother.
Tomlin decided to ignore it for the moment until he learned more about Jimmie’s relationship with his mother. He didn’t see any harm in giving her some time alone with Jimmie. After all, there was nothing to be done about the loss of Jimmie’s mother, except make sure Jimmie had everything he needed to cope with the grief of losing his wife and child.
“I’m sorry,” Jimmie said, shaking his head as he wiped his eyes. “I shouldn’t have left you there. If I had known that Mother—”
His voice trailed off.
“Your mother?” Tomlin asked.
“Yes. My mom. She died this morning.”
Tomlin couldn’t imagine how Jimmie could feel worse than he already did, but he also realized that he wouldn’t be feeling any better anytime soon. The loss of his wife and baby daughter weighed heavily on Jimmie, even though Tomlin knew Jimmie hadn’t been married long enough to really form an attachment to either his wife or daughter.
Still, Tomlin suspected his boss wasn’t used to being a widower yet. He’d lost a woman he cared deeply for, only six months before, and then he’d lost another one, his wife, in just three days.
The fact that Jimmie’s father was living with them probably didn’t help Jimmie much, Tomlin thought as he led the way into the house. They’d be sharing a bedroom and Jimmie would be sleeping in the bed where his wife slept every night. Now the bed was empty.
And if Jimmie was like Tomlin, he would feel lonely and alone at times. That’s when it helped to have someone else there to share the burden. Someone to listen to your problems while you sat at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee. Or perhaps to go horseback riding with you, just to clear your head.
Someone to talk to about how you were coping with things. A companion in sorrow was often more beneficial than a stranger or a friend who wasn’t aware of what was happening in your life.
Jimmie went straight upstairs to change clothes, and Tomlin waited patiently until Jimmie’s mother left and followed Jimmie into the room. Jimmie was wearing blue jeans, a white shirt, and black shoes, and he wore his hat. His dark curly hair was tied under the brim of his hat and his beard matched the color of the rest of his thick brown curls.
It took a few moments for Tomlin to realize that Jimmie didn’t have any luggage with him. It was almost as if he planned to spend the day at the ranch house and never leave again.
Jimmie glanced over at him as if Tomlin was asking him a question. But Jimmie ignored the comment. “Do you think it’s okay if we move the furniture out of the bedroom to make space for me?”
“No problem,” Tomlin said, wondering how Jimmie wanted to pay him for working there. When they arrived back at the ranch, Tomlin had told Jimmie to call him when he needed anything and he’d buy it for him from the nearest store. There weren’t many stores near the ranch, but the nearest was about a half hour away and not very close in proximity to the ranch.
“Can I have some money to get groceries?”
“Of course, Jimmie.”
After Jimmie changed his clothes and washed up in the washroom, he headed for the kitchen. Tomlin watched Jimmie walk into the house with a heavy heart. No wonder Jimmie didn’t want to work here; he hated this place—the ranch itself, the people who lived there, and most certainly the memory of his wife and baby daughter.
He might come to accept it after a while, but he would always remember the tragedy that happened to him at this ranch.
He walked across the room and opened the closet door. He pulled out a pair of work pants and handed them to Jimmie. “You need these.”
Jimmie shook his head. “No, thank you. I’ll find something.”
Tomlin sighed and looked toward the window. “Maybe we should give Mr. Cooper a call and tell him he can come to pick Jimmie up tomorrow?”
“Why don’t you just let him bring him back? We won’t need to pay you to work here anymore, will we?” Jimmie asked as he took the clothes from Tomlin’s hand. “And maybe you could stay for dinner since you’re here, too?”
“That’s a great idea. You two eat together. I can fix supper and then clean up afterward.”
“Thank you,” Jimmie replied. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for us, Tomlin.”
***
Dinner was wonderful that evening, but Tomlin couldn’t stop thinking about the reason why Jimmie didn’t want to work at the ranch any longer. Tomlin wasn’t sure how to approach the subject. He knew Jimmie was still struggling with the death of his wife and child, and he wondered what his boss could possibly say that would make Jimmie feel better about losing his loved ones.
As they ate dessert, Jimmie cleared away the dishes. Then he went to sit on the sofa near his father. Jimmie’s mother sat next to him and she reached over to squeeze his hand gently. She spoke softly to Jimmie as if telling him it was all right. And then she got up to join Tomlin in the kitchen to help him clean up. Tomlin poured her a cup of coffee before leaving her in the kitchen.
When Jimmie’s father finished his meal he stood and walked out of the dining room without a word or glance to either one of them. Jimmie’s mother followed him through the house and then closed the door behind herself, leaving the three of them alone.
“Is something wrong?” Tomlin asked. “Your father—”
“He doesn’t like me,” Jimmie interrupted. “He says my wife ruined him and his life.”
“Did your wife do something bad to him? Did she steal from him?”
Jimmie shook his head. “Nope, nothing like that. Nothing so horrible, anyway. Just made him unhappy. He blames me.”
“But why does he hate you? What did you ever do to him?” Tomlin asked.
Jimmie shrugged his shoulders. “He wouldn’t let me talk about my wife. He didn’t listen to the things I was trying to tell him about our daughter. He said he already had a son and a daughter, and he didn’t need another boy around the house. He even called me names.”
“What kind of names did he call you?” Tomlin asked. “Like what?”
“Bastard,” Jimmie replied. “The worst name he called me was ‘son,’ and now that’s all he calls me.”
Tomlin put his hand on Jimmie’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jimmie.”
Jimmie stared at Tomlin for a moment before he turned to look at the fireplace, his arms folded tightly across his chest.
“You know, your dad isn’t going to change his mind about wanting to be rid of you because someone has died, or because he lost a child,” Tomlin said as he walked over and took Jimmie by the hand. “It takes time for people to heal after such an ordeal.”
“I thought he would forget about me,” Jimmie replied. “But he won’t stop talking about how my wife and daughter are dead. It makes me so mad when he yells at me and tells me I shouldn’t have married her; he told me it was just a mistake.”
“Mr. Cooper never had much respect for women in general,” Tomlin explained as he sat down beside Jimmie. “Now he’s only angry at you because you remind him of his wife and daughter.”
Jimmie shook his head. “If you’d known how hard it is to live with this man, you wouldn’t want anything to do with him.”
“I doubt that,” Tomlin said as he placed his arm around Jimmie’s shoulders. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you’re doing a fine job working for Mr. Cooper.”
Jimmie laughed. “Thanks for being so nice about it.”
“We’ve worked very well together. If you weren’t so good at taking care of his animals, I might not have been able to convince Mr. Cooper that we needed to hire you, but once he saw what a fine worker you were, he decided to keep you on permanently.”
Jimmie smiled. “It was nice of you to come all this way to ask me to stay on with you and your family. That was so thoughtful of you. Thank you.”
“It’s no trouble at all. And don’t mention it to anyone else unless I tell you otherwise, okay?” Tomlin asked. “That goes for the other workers, too, especially Jimmie here. This whole thing has gone so smoothly, I would hate to see that end, especially when Jimmie seems to be getting along so well with us.”
Jimmie nodded his agreement. “Yeah, you and Mr. Cooper have really made me feel welcome and important at the ranch.”
“I’ll tell Mr. Cooper we will be hiring more help in order to get this ranch back up and running again,” Tomlin promised. “I’ll speak with each of the men and make sure everyone agrees with me. We’re still in need of several skilled hands and some new hands to start off, so they can train under those who are already here.”
“Sounds good,” Jimmie replied, and Tomlin left Jimmie sitting in the chair while he went into the bedroom and pulled a large piece of paper from his suitcase. Tomlin spread the paper across the bed and quickly outlined their plans for hiring the next day, including the number of positions that needed to be filled.
He also wrote down which jobs required certain skills, such as carpentry, blacksmithing, cattle herding, and animal husbandry. As Tomlin continued to write, Jimmie stared down at the open pages, reading each item aloud.
“First thing tomorrow morning, we need to bring the horses over here, and you should ride them over to where the herders are,” Tomlin said. “They’ll need some direction from you until we can find some experienced cowboys to replace them.”
“I’ll get the horses ready for you,” Jimmie said. Then Jimmie looked up at Tomlin. “Are you leaving today or staying awhile longer?”
“I have some business in Kansas City first thing tomorrow morning,” Tomlin replied. “I’ll only be gone one night. But since you’ve helped us so much, I think Mr. Cooper should reward you for all your hard work.”
Jimmie grinned. “Thank you, sir,” he said and bowed slightly. “I appreciate this very much.”
“I hope you know how lucky you are to be here instead of in the mines,” Tomlin said as he picked up the pen. “I don’t think your life could be any different than mine if you lived in a mine.”
“How did you meet Mr. Cooper? Was it through your mining experience?” Jimmie asked curiously.
“Not exactly,” Tomlin replied and then began to sketch the layout of a mine shaft, including the location of a small cabin. “My brother was killed by one of these beasts and I was so afraid something similar might happen to me. I got as far away from the mountains as I could, and that led me right here.”
Jimmie gasped. “That must have been awful for you.”
“When we found out about what happened to his brother, Mr. Cooper came up with a plan to trap these things and stop them from harming anyone else.”
“What were they called?” Jimmie asked. “The beast?”
Tomlin shook his head. “No. I never heard anyone call them anything like that before. They’re called wendigos.”
“Why do you say they aren’t really beasts?” Jimmie wondered.
“Most of them are human once, but when they die, they change into something else.”
Jimmie sat quietly listening to Tomlin, and Tomlin watched him carefully. For many years, no one had been able to tell Jimmie that his father was dead because he refused to believe it. The only reason he was willing to talk about his dad now was that Tomlin kept talking about what happened when his brother died.
He didn’t want to hear any more of it. So Tomlin took a chance. If Jimmie wanted to avoid hearing anything further, he knew there was nothing he could do to change the boy’s mind. But if he didn’t want to talk about his father anymore, then maybe Jimmie would tell Tomlin something else about himself that could help him relate better to the boy.
“Do you ever miss your dad?” Tomlin asked suddenly, hoping the question would break the silence that had fallen between them after Tomlin told Jimmie about his brother’s death. “And I mean your real dad.”
Jimmie’s eyes grew wide. He hadn’t expected this conversation to turn to his father. “He died when I was born,” Jimmie mumbled.
“Did he die in an accident?” Tomlin pressed. “Or maybe a sickness?”
Jimmie shook his head. “It wasn’t a sickness, just a tragic accident.”
“So where is he buried?” Tomlin asked. “Was he laid to rest here on the ranch? Did you have a memorial service?”
Jimmie thought for a moment before answering. “No,” he finally replied, looking down at the floor. “I couldn’t bring myself to bury him anywhere near the ranch. It’s too painful.”
“I can understand that,” Tomlin said, not knowing what else to say or how to comfort the boy. “Sometimes, I can’t bear to go outside because I can still see my brother lying dead in the snow,” he added and then lowered his voice. “If you don’t mind me asking, how old were you when this tragedy happened?”
“Eight.” Jimmie answered softly, staring straight ahead.
Tomlin nodded sympathetically. Eight seemed awfully young for such a terrible ordeal. “I’m sorry,” he finally managed to say.
Jimmie shrugged his shoulders. “It isn’t your fault,” he mumbled. “It was my father’s.”
“Mr. Cooper says that sometimes people need a reason to live,” Tomlin replied, thinking back to the time he’d tried to commit suicide after his wife left him.
“That’s what Mr. Cooper always tells me,” Jimmie said and then sighed heavily. “But I think maybe I’ve already lost my reason to live. You know, every time I look up at the moon, I feel so alone.”
Tomlin studied the boy for a long moment. There was so much pain hidden behind those sad brown eyes. He had no idea why his own mother would have abandoned her child, but she certainly wasn’t here to ask.
No matter how hard Tomlin had fought to get free of the life he led on the ranch, it never occurred to him that someday someone might come along and drag him back. That’s what had happened to Jimmie—he was caught again and there was no way to escape.
“I wish I could take your pain away,” Tomlin said honestly.
For a moment, Jimmie stared at him in silence. “You’re different,” he finally whispered. “Everyone else tries to fix everything. They give me medicine to make me all better.” Jimmie paused. “It doesn’t work like that. Only God can make me whole again.”
Tomlin swallowed nervously. He felt awkward standing next to the boy and talking about God with him since most of the time Jimmie referred to him as Mr. Cooper, and Tomlin didn’t want to upset the boy even further by correcting him.
Instead, he decided to leave the conversation there and change the subject. “How about if we start a fire in the stove and warm ourselves,” Tomlin suggested. “Then maybe I’ll cook us some stew for supper. I think you probably missed lunch and that might be good because you wouldn’t have eaten today.”
“Sounds good,” Jimmie agreed. But then he shook his head. “Don’t bother cooking stew tonight,” he blurted out, feeling uncomfortable talking about food when he had so little of it. “I’m not hungry.”
“What do you usually eat?” Tomlin asked. “You seem to have plenty of milk for the calf.”
“Milk and cheese.” Jimmie’s lips curved into a grin. “When they let me feed him. And once in a while, I get something to drink.”
The smile vanished from Tomlin’s face. The ranch owner knew that Jimmie got very little milk from the cow now that he was getting older. So where did the kid get the extra calories needed to grow strong?
“I’ll make toast for both of us,” Tomlin said quickly, not wanting to talk anymore about the boy’s diet. “You can have a glass of water if you haven’t had anything to drink yet.”
“Thank you,” Jimmie said, relieved.
By the time Tomlin finished making toast, Jimmie’s appetite had returned. They sat together and ate their meal as Tomlin watched Jimmie’s eyes glaze over each time he took a bite. It was obvious to Tomlin that the boy was starving. He also noticed that Jimmie seemed unusually quiet while eating. “How are you doing?” Tomlin finally ventured to ask.
Jimmie looked up briefly and smiled. “Doing well.”
“Are you enjoying being on the ranch?” Tomlin continued.
Jimmie frowned. “Not really,” he said in a dull tone. “There’s nothing to do around here.”
“We play games,” Tomlin told him, hoping he could interest Jimmie in some of them. “You could join us.”
Jimmie shook his head. “I don’t like playing games or riding horses.”
“I see,” Tomlin said slowly. He’d been warned about Jimmie, so it shouldn’t surprise him that he had problems adjusting to a new home. But he found himself feeling sorry for the boy and wondering if there were any special needs Jimmie might have. “If you want to go outside, there’s plenty of room to run around,” Tomlin offered. “You don’t have to stay inside.”
“I don’t want to go out,” Jimmie said and then he glanced at the kitchen window. “But Mr. Cooper won’t let me watch TV.”
Tomlin stared at the boy, wondering what to do next. He could hardly force Jimmie to spend more time with him. And it was doubtful that Jimmie would want to join anyone else either, considering the other children’s feelings toward him. “You know what they say about television,” Tomlin replied. “You have to read books to get smarter.”
He tried to sound sincere and interested, although it bothered him that he was lying to the boy. If Jimmie wanted to watch television, he should be allowed to do it. After all, this was supposed to be a place of rest and recovery for him.
A wistful smile formed on the boy’s face as he reached for the toast Tomlin held before him. “I wish I could read,” he whispered.
“Maybe I’ll teach you sometime,” Tomlin promised him. Then he thought about the library and how often he visited it in town. “Or maybe I could order some reading material and mail it to you,” he said hopefully.
“That’s nice,” Jimmie said softly, but then he shook his head. “No reading books,” he muttered. “Mr. Cooper says only schoolbooks.”
“Schoolbooks are good too,” Tomlin argued. He couldn’t imagine Jimmie sitting through one of those boring classes, especially since he always got nervous when he had to recite a poem out loud. “Did you like history?” he asked. “Or geography?”
Jimmie nodded, and Tomlin felt pleased that he had made an impression. But then Jimmie shook his head. “I liked math and English,” the boy admitted after a brief pause. “But not all subjects. There were others I didn’t like. Too much writing.”
“And you never learned your multiplication tables?” Tomlin asked with concern.
Jimmie laughed bitterly. “Never did learn them,” he said. “My dad taught me a few times, but I don’t remember any of it. Just the numbers. Not the words.”
“You’ve got to remember that,” Tomlin told him firmly. “Math is important for everyone.”
“I think I’m stupid,” Jimmie mumbled in a low tone. “I don’t know why I can’t remember.” He sighed heavily, then wiped his mouth with a napkin before he spoke again. “It’s hard to forget when you’re bad.”
Tomlin was about to tell him that being smart wasn’t determined by how fast someone learned, but then he remembered what John Davenport had said about Jimmie. “I guess it’s true,” he told the boy quietly. “You just have to keep trying.”
After Jimmie finished his toast, Tomlin cleaned up while he waited for Jimmie to finish his breakfast. While waiting, he wondered what he was going to do with the boy when his trial date arrived. The longer he remained here, the greater chance of getting caught.
Yet Tomlin couldn’t send Jimmie back to the city, where he’d probably end up working menial jobs. What Tomlin needed was something different for Jimmie, something to help him fit in and feel comfortable on the ranch. Something like reading, which Jimmie obviously enjoyed. Or teaching him some other skill or craft, such as woodworking, gardening…
The End