"Here, let me get that for ya, Miss Finnegan."
It was late afternoon, and Unbob was inside the church helping Miss Finnegan clean up from art class. Things were in a fine mess too. There was paste on the table, and bits of red paper littered the floor because the children had been making valentines.
The young woman smiled and handed the broom to Unbob, and he set right to work tidying up the floor. Unbob liked the new schoolteacher who had come out west from St. Louis. Miss Finnegan was a plump, pretty blonde with rosy cheeks and a bright smile, and she always smelled of rosewater. Unbob had come to her one day with a request, and she had agreed to let him sit in on her classes if he helped out some after school.
The simple man had never had much book learning, aside from what Miss Fiona had taught him before she died, and he keenly felt the lack of it. He really enjoyed sitting with the children for an hour each afternoon in Curtis Wells' makeshift schoolhouse. He was learning lots of new things: arithmetic, spelling, even some geography. But Unbob especially enjoyed art class because he liked to make things.
Unbob made short work of the sweeping, and he set the broom aside and returned to the pew where he had left something very important -- his valentines. Unbob had never heard of a valentine before. But Miss Finnegan had brought some to class to show her students. She said they had been given to her by her beaux. Unbob guessed she must have had lots of beaux in St. Louis. He thought it was a nice idea to give a valentine to the people you cared the most about.
One thing bothered him a bit though. Miss Finnegan said that valentines were supposed to be shaped like a heart. Now, Unbob had seen a lot of hearts in his line of work, and none of them were shaped like a valentine. But he guessed you wouldn't want to give someone a real heart. After all, he remembered that Mr. Mosby hadn't liked it very much when someone gave him a pig's heart.
Unbob was delighted when Miss Finnegan said he could make a valentine too. He thought long and hard about his few friends in town. And he decided that Miss Mattie was the one who had been the kindest to him. He held the lady gunsmith in the highest regard. He would make a valentine heart for her. But the more thought he gave to the idea, the more he realized that Mattie's valentine really ought to come from her beau. And Miss Mattie didn't have a beau. Unless . . . Well, everyone in town knew she was sweet on Mr. Call. But Unbob was reasonably sure that it would never occur to Mr. Call to give Mattie a valentine. That's when the idea came to him. "I need t' make two valentines," he told Miss Finnegan. And that's just what he did.
The valentines were made from cherry red paper that crackled when you worked with it. Miss Finnegan had given the students her valentines to trace around so that theirs would be the right shape. And she brought some pretty lace to paste around the edges.
Unbob smiled as he looked at the hearts in his hands. He was proud of his work. Yes, these ought to do just fine.
~~~
The next morning, Unbob made sure he got to the gun shop early, before Miss Mattie was due to arrive. He placed her valentine on top of the gun case where she would be sure to see it, and then he crept out again. His next stop was the livery stable.
Mattie was crossing the street humming to herself, when a sudden movement from across the street caught her eye. It was Austin staring at her again. He tipped his hat to her and smiled. Mattie glared at him as she watched him saunter off. The sheriff had been leering at her all week, skulking around like some mangy old cur everyone forgot to feed. It gave her the creeps.
Her mood definitely on a downswing, Mattie stomped up the steps to her shop and stalked inside. What the hell? Something red and gaudy lay on the top of the gun case. Frowning, Mattie picked it up by one corner and held it up to examine it more closely.
A valentine? Now, where had that come from, she wondered.
Realization hit her squarely between the eyes. Austin! That weasel! That was why he was staring at her! Well, she would have none of it. Taking the heart with her, she headed straight back out her front door and over to the sheriff's office. No one was inside. Well, no matter. Austin would see just what she thought of his "gift" when he returned from prowling about town. Dropping the offensive object on his desk, Mattie brushed off her hands and turning on her heel, she headed back to her shop. She had work to do.
About an hour later, Austin, returning to the jail, found a valentine on his desk. "Well, now. What have we here?" he said as he picked it up. Turning it over in his hands, he ran his finger over the lace and smiled. He knew just where this had come from.
Austin remembered the valentines Hannah had made for him when they were children back in Boston. No one had given him a valentine in a very long time. Imagine it. Amanda giving him one now. He didn't think she cared! Anyway, Austin was pretty sure it was from Amanda. She'd been more tolerant of his presence lately. She hadn't told him to get lost for several weeks now. Austin left the valentine on his desk and headed over to the general merchandise store.
A short while later, Amanda thought she heard someone come into the Dove. She headed out front to look, but to her surprise, no one was there. She was just turning to go back to the kitchen when a small package on the counter near the guestbook caught her eye. Curious, she picked it up and untied the ribbon. Inside were some chocolate bonbons. Her favorite! Who could they be from? Then she smiled softly to herself. That rascal, Clay! Surely, he was the only one who knew how much she liked them.
Without further ado, Amanda headed to her office and unlocked the cupboard where she kept her private stash. She selected a bottle of her best Port, and setting it down on her desk, she took out pen and paper and wrote in flowery script, "Dear Clay, with warmest regards, Amanda." Then she tied the note to the bottle with a red ribbon and put on her coat. Just then Ike came through the front door, tracking muddy snow across the lobby floor. Amanda thought twice about going out into the muck.
"Hmmm. Ike, would you mind running this over to the Ambrosia for me?" For a small fee Ike agreed and set off down the street.
About this time, Doc Cleese, returning from a twelve-hour stint at the Dewbarry ranch, entered the Ambrosia. Mrs. Dewbarry had labored long and hard to produce twins, and although she had done most of the work, the little physician felt drained. He plopped his bag on the bar and ordered a drink. He sighed contentedly and sat back to enjoy the liquid refreshment.
Ike was halfway across the street when he slipped in the muddy snow and went down, the bottle flying from his grasp. Ike picked first himself and then the bottle up, and brushing off the worst of the snow, he continued on his way. Stepping up on the boardwalk, he suddenly realized that Amanda hadn't said who the delivery was for. He glanced at the tag, but the ink had smeared. Ike peered at it closely. The letters D and C, then something about regards, then most of Amanda's signature were all that he could make out.
Well, she had said the Ambrosia. He entered the drinking establishment, still studying the tag. Looking up, he saw Curtis Wells' physician seated at the bar.
D.C. . . . Doc Cleese!
"Here ya go, Doc," he said. "I think this is for you." Ike waited for a moment, hoping the Dr. would see fit to reward him, but finally he gave up and wandered into the back room to check out the card games.
Ephraim smiled when he saw Amanda's signature on the tag. He quickly finished his drink and hurried home to select some of his favorite records. This could be an eventful evening.
(End part 1)
When Call entered the Hell Bitch's stall that morning, he had a bit of a shock. Tacked to the wall where he couldn't help but see it, was something red. Call grimaced and snatched whatever it was off the wall. What kind of nonsense was this? Who would be giving him a valentine? He didn't have the least idea. He didn't know, and he didn't want to know. He quickly stuffed the lacy heart into his coat pocket. The last thing he needed was for someone to see him with this bit of sentimental falderal. Call decided to forego his morning ride and head over to the Number 10. He definitely needed a drink.
~~~
That afternoon, Amanda was at the desk in the lobby of the Dove when Call came downstairs. "Oh, Call, your room rent is due," the hotel owner informed him.
Call scowled and ambled over to the desk where Amanda was waiting for him. When he reached into his pocket and drew out his money, the forgotten valentine fell to the floor at his feet. Call quickly snatched up the offending item, but not before Amanda saw it. She laughed aloud. "Who'd be giving you a valentine, Call?"
"Hunh, that's what I was wonderin'." The surly bounty hunter stuffed the valentine back into his pocket and headed for the door.
"Well, love is certainly in the air," Amanda said as he went out. She smiled to herself and went back to her figures.
Once outside, Call reached into his pocket and brought out the heart. I best be getting' rid of this fool thing, he thought to himself, and he looked around for someplace to dispose of it.
Well, the wind was squirrelly in Curtis Wells that day, and just then a particularly strong gust lifted Call's hat clean off his head. He grabbed for it with both hands and just managed to keep it from blowing away, but in the process, he lost his grip on the valentine, and the wind tumbled it away. Call watched it disappear. Then he shrugged. He considered himself well rid of it. He examined his hat, hoping the fool thing would stay in place when he put it on again. He found himself wishing it had strings like that hat he’d worn when he was Newt.
The valentine rested against the pump housing in the center of the street briefly, before the wind picked it up and lifted it high in the air. It flew over Twyla's pleasure palace and finally came to rest, unseen, in a basket of laundry Florie was hanging on the line out back.
Florie sighed. She hated laundry duty this time of year. Her hands were ice cold, and she knew her bloomers would be frozen as stiff as the proverbial board when she took them down. She turned around, reaching for another pair, and was more than a little surprised to see the red heart in her basket. She wondered where it could have come from. She walked to the alley and looked around. She saw Call across the street with his hat in his hands. He glanced at her before jamming his headgear back on his head and ambling off.
Could Call have given her a valentine? Florie would have thought the bounty hunter incapable of such a romantic act. But who else was stealthy enough to have put it in her basket without her seeing? She smiled softly to herself and tucked the valentine into her bosom for safekeeping. No doubt about it, next time Call came looking for a little female companionship, she'd make sure he got it for free.
Back inside Twyla's, Florie climbed the stairs. She pulled out the valentine to have another look at it. And that's when Stella and Tillie saw it.
"Oh, a valentine! Where'd you get it, Florie?" Tillie made a grab for it. Florie tried to hang on to the keepsake, but the other girls soon wrested it from her grasp. They fought over it like old maids over a wedding bouquet.
"It's mine!"
"No, it's mine! I saw it first."
"Give it back!" Florie demanded in vain. But Stella, just to be mean, tossed it over her shoulder. She was standing at the head of the stairs, and the valentine fluttered down, down, coming to rest at the feet of a very surprised Ike who had just come in to talk to Twyla.
Ike picked it up and looking up the stairs, he beheld three startled faces looking down at him. Tillie and Stella giggled, and both of them pointed at Florie. Ike reddened slightly, took off his hat, and grinned at Florie. Just then Twyla came around the corner and found Ike, hat in one hand, valentine in the other.
"Why, Ike, is that a valentine you've got there, or are you just glad to see me?" The rotund little madam snatched up the heart and held it to her ample bosom, fluttering her lashes at the flustered Ike.
"Why, I, I, I, …” he stammered. Then he remembered the paper Mr. Mosby had sent over for Twyla's signature. He produced it, and as soon as she had signed it, he beat a hasty retreat.
Now Twyla thought Ike's gesture was all well and good. But Twyla wasn't attracted to the snaky Ike. Her eyes were on the handsome Mr. Root these days. And he was due in on the stage later that day. Humming to herself, Twyla went to her room to complete her beauty treatments.
No one saw Florie creep down the stairs like a cat and retrieve the valentine from the parlor table. She took it back upstairs with her and into her room. She pulled her keepsake box out from under her bed and placed the valentine inside.
~~~
Mosby strode purposefully into the sheriff's office, wearing his leather duster. He was in empire-building mode, and he wanted Austin to collect taxes from delinquent citizens. He had in his hand a sheaf of overdue notices he wanted delivered. He plopped them down on Austin's desk.
"I want these served this afternoon," he told his big, bad sheriff. Clay sat on the corner of the desk as he filled Austin in on the latest details of running Curtis Wells. Then he departed to attend to further business. He was striding purposefully down the street, when he became aware of a couple of small boys following very closely behind him. He turned around to confront his giggling pursuers.
"Now, see here, what's the meanin' of this?" he asked them. One of them ran around behind him and pulled a bright red heart off the back of his coat. He handed it to Clay, and the two urchins ran off, still giggling.
What the hell was this? The Mose was a bit nonplussed. He didn't have the least idea where the lacy token had come from, but he felt that is was unbecoming to a citizen of his stature to have things stuck to the back of his coat. He rubbed his lower lip thoughtfully.
Glancing up, he beheld an adorable, dark-eyed, little girl peering at him from behind her mother's skirts. He advanced the few paces to the child and knelt down beside her. "What's your name, my dear?" he asked the shy tyke.
"Her name's Betsy.” The mother smiled down at him, happy to have the town proprietor showing an interest in her child.
Mosby looked from the mother back to the little girl. "How would you like a valentine, Betsy?"
Betsy took her finger put of her mouth and reached for the heart. Mosby placed it in her hand and was rewarded with a big smile. He tipped his hat to Betsy's mother and continued on his way.
~~~
When Luther came rumbling into town that afternoon, he jumped down from the stage and headed straight for the gun shop. He had picked up a present for Mattie in Miles City, and he was anxious to give it to her. The lady gunsmith wasn't in when he entered her shop, so he laid the romance novel on top of the gun case for her to find and then went back to help Howie with the horses. He would ask her how she liked it later.
~~~
We are now nearing the end of our tale. And a convoluted one it is. Unbob never knew the extent of the damage his matchmaking had done. There were some hurt feelings and misunderstandings that took almost until the next Valentine's Day to iron out. But two people did enjoy their evening.
Mattie was just locking up her shop for the night, when she saw Call heading her way down the boardwalk.
"Mattie," he nodded and continued past her.
"Oh, Call?"
Call stopped and turned back to the blonde woman.
Mattie pocketed the door key and walked over to the bounty hunter.
"Thanks for that novel you gave me. I'm likin' it fine."
Call looked confused and grimaced slightly. He couldn't remember giving her any book, but he liked the smile on her face.
"Well, good, . . , Mattie." He allowed her to take his arm and didn't even shake her off as they continued down the boardwalk together.
"How 'bout we have us some supper? I'm buyin'," Mattie suggested.
Call merely shrugged. Mattie took that as a yes, and together they headed off into the purple twilight.
They didn't see Unbob watching them from a safe distance. The simple man grinned and headed home happily. His work was done.
The End
2/2003
