Aftermath

Jarrod stared at the small town, not sure of what he felt. Being up in the cabin all winter without another soul around, his nightmares had all but disappeared and he was hesitant to have anything disturb his possibly fragile peace of mind. But he had to admit he was also lonely. He was by nature a social man and even though his self-imposed exile was in his mind necessary, Jarrod couldn’t help hoping he was ready to join society again.

He’d originally intended to only be gone a few weeks or so when he left Stockton. But every time he got near a town, his first instinct was to turn and run the other way. It had taken all of his willpower to go in, send the few wires and letters to his family and buy supplies. The strength of his reactions caused Jarrod to despair of ever being able to go back to his former life. So when he encountered a man wanting to sell out and return back east to civilization and family, Jarrod bought the solitary cabin in the woods for the price of a train ticket to Philadelphia and spent the winter months up in the mountains alone. The hard work it took to keep warm and fed was cathartic and once the snow melted, he decided to head out again and send a letter to his family who were surely worried after all that time.

Jarrod scratched at the ragged beard that covered his face. There hadn’t been a need to shave alone in the mountains; he hadn’t even bothered to hack his hair and beard to a manageable length with his knife when it got too long. Maybe there was a barber in the town, Jarrod thought as he guided his horse through the trees and laughed quietly. That would be a real test, if he could let a stranger get close to his neck with a razor.

There were only a few people on the street when he rode into town. Jarrod tried to ignore their stares as he pulled Jingo to a halt in front of a weathered building with a sign proclaiming “General Store” and a striped barber pole beside the door. The looks weren’t hostile and he was a stranger after all, a none too respectable looking stranger at the moment, either. Taking his courage in hand, Jarrod pushed open the door and went inside.

The stout, balding man behind the counter looked him over thoroughly. “What can I do for you?”

Jarrod took a deep breath to settle his nerves. “A shave and a haircut if the barber’s around. A bath too, if you’ve got it.” His fear was overcome by a deep-seated urge to feel like himself again.

The other man nodded. “Got a big old tub in the back. It’ll be two bits for the lot.”

Jarrod dug a coin out of his pocket and tossed it on the counter. It was inspected carefully before being placed in the cash register and the man came out from behind the counter. Jarrod took the hand offered with a sure grip. The doctors had been right; most of the strength had come back, even though all his fingers didn’t move as well as they used to.

“Name’s Hal Perkins,” the man introduced. “Shopkeeper, barber, bartender, I do it all around here. I’ll just head into the back and heat up the water for you, Mr…?”

“Barkley,” Jarrod offered.

“Won’t be but a couple minutes, Mr. Barkley.” The proprietor bustled into the back and Jarrod took a seat at what likely served as a bar. He moved the chair so he could see anyone coming in and sighed at his automatic positioning. At least he wasn’t shaking or wanting to run, he reminded himself.

“The water’s just heating,” Perkins announced when he came back. “So, what brings you to our fair town, Mr. Barkley?”

Jarrod shrugged. “Needed to send a letter,” he said in an offhand manner.

Perkins nodded his head. “Don’t got no post office here in Paxton,” he told Jarrod, “but Harry Walters hauls freight to Quincy every week. He does most of the mail delivery in these parts.”

Jarrod pulled the letter out of his pocket and turned it over slowly as he made sure it was addressed and sealed. He handed it to Perkins. “I’d be mighty grateful. How much?”

“Oh, a nickle’ll cover the postage and Harry’s fee.” That coin was inspected as well and put behind the counter with the letter. Perkins eyed him closely and Jarrod started to feel uncomfortable at the scrutiny until he said, “Those clothes have seen better days. If you got a spare set, my niece Grace takes in laundry and mending. I reckon she could have them spruced up in no time at all.”

Jarrod started to relax as he looked at his clothes. He’d done his best to clean and repair the shirt and pants, but he was certainly no seamstress and his other set was in even worse shape. “Maybe I should start up an account with you, Mr. Perkins,” he said ruefully. “I could probably use a new set of clothes on top of your niece’s sewing skills.”

Perkins laughed. “Reckon I can do that for you too. Now the water should be ready and I’ll let Grace know as soon as I get your size for some new things.”

Jarrod nodded and followed the affable man into a back room where a cast iron boiler and tub stood behind a curtain.

“Just pump what you need,” Perkins told him. “The pump with cold water’s on the other side. Stay in as long as you want, if another customer comes along, I’ll let you know.”

“Much obliged.” Jarrod filled the tub and stripped off his clothes, reaching around to put them on the chair on the other side of the curtain before he sank into the blissfully hot water. He hadn’t had a real bath in months and revelled in the heat soaking into his skin and muscles. Jarrod closed his eyes and relaxed as much as he dared. He didn’t feel totally comfortable, but it was a far cry from the fear and panic he would have felt four months before. Heath had been right; having time alone and not having to worry about what anyone else thought had been a balm to his broken spirit. But encountering one friendly storekeeper wasn’t the same as the bustle of people in a big place like Stockton and dealing with strangers was sometimes easier than the people you knew. Just take it slow, Jarrod, he advised himself. Just one step at a time.

After a long soak, Jarrod picked up the soap on the edge of the tub and scrubbed himself clean. He grimaced at the grimy water and stood to pump a bucket that was cold and clear. He shivered as he poured it over his head. With the last of the dirt and soap rinsed off, Jarrod stepped out of the tub and towelled off. Glancing around the corner, he saw that Perkins was true to his word and had left a small pile of neatly folded clothes on the chair. He pulled on the clean, soft union suit and was about to shrug it over his shoulders when he heard a soft gasp behind him. Reaching for the gunbelt he hanging on the back of the chair, Jarrod turned to find a young brunette standing in the doorway in shock. He wasn’t sure if the expression on her face was from the scarred appearance of his back or just the surprise of encountering a half-naked man.

She backed out of the room, stuttering, “I… I’m dreadfully sorry, sir, I…” The young woman turned and fled.

Losing a bit of the relaxation he’d gained, Jarrod finished dressing and went out to the front of the shop to see her leaving through the front door. Perkins waved him over to the barber chair in the corner and smiled apologetically.

“Sorry for that, Mr. Barkley,” he said as he readied a hot towel. “Grace got my words mixed up and thought your clothes were in the back room, not you.”

“No harm done on my part. I hope she wasn’t too upset,” Jarrod replied as Perkins wrapped the steaming towel over his face. He took a deep breath as he heard the stropping of the razor. Heartbeat quickening when the towel was removed, Jarrod managed to fight off his fear while his beard was lathered and braced himself for the next step. Perkins chatted affably as he wielded the razor with a sure, steady hand and Jarrod breathed a sigh of relief once his beard was efficiently sheared off. He ran a hand over the smooth skin while his hair was trimmed to a more respectable length and felt more than just the weight of the unwanted hair being lifted from him.

“There you are,” Perkins announced as he gave Jarrod’s neck and collar a quick whisk with a brush, “you look like a new man.”

“And I feel like one, too.”

Perkins started cleaning up. “Grace said she’d have your things ready in another hour or so. You can settle up with her when you pick them up. It’s the yellow house at the south end of the street, can’t miss it.”

“Might as well load up on supplies while I wait.” Jarrod took his time gathering together a few essentials and topped them off with a small bottle of whiskey and a few fragrant cigars. He wasn’t sure what his plans were yet; his encounter with the easy-going Hal Perkins was heartening, but he still wasn’t sure he was ready to resume his life.

He loaded his purchases into the saddlebags and tied the small sack of grain beside his bedroll. Then with a pat for Jingo’s shoulder, he palmed the lumps of sugar he’d put in his pocket and offered the sorrel the treat, which was accepted happily. Jingo was looking a little scruffy around the edges, too, Jarrod observed, but his mount didn’t seem to mind. As long as he was warm, dry and well-fed, Jingo was a very tolerant horse and when he wasn’t hauling wood, the gelding had spent the winter days drowsing in the shed with the packmule that Jarrod gave to an old miner on his way out of the mountains.

He unwrapped the reins from the rail and Jingo followed him down the street. He found the tidy yellow house at the end and tied his horse to the gate. A colourful array of spring flowers greeted him as he walked to the door. His mother would love that garden, Jarrod thought with a pang of homesickness before he rapped on the door.

The pretty brunette from the store promptly answered it. She blushed when she saw him.

“Ma’am,” Jarrod said politely, “Mr. Perkins at the store told me I could pick up my things here and pay you for them.” He was too much of a gentleman to mention the earlier incident.

“Oh, of course.” She smiled self-consciously and Jarrod couldn’t help but admire her lovely dimples and soft brown eyes. “I’ll go get them.”

Jarrod gave her a smile of his own. “I’ll wait here.”

She gave a slight nod and disappeared back into the house, returning with a paper-wrapped bundle. “It comes to two dollars.” She kept her gaze on the tops of his boots as she handed him the package.

Jarrod placed a couple coins in her hand. “Much obliged, ma’am.” He tipped his hat before leaving. “Have yourself a good day.” He closed the gate behind him and stowed the clothes in his saddlebag. As he swung into the saddle, he glanced back to the house in time to see the door shut slowly and smiled as he clucked to Jingo to set the sorrel into an easy lope out of town.