The Door at the Top of the Stairs (3 page)

Four o'clock had snuck up on her. She'd worked steadily since four-thirty that morning and she decided a break might help her relax. A series of headaches had plagued her the last few days, each one progressively worse until last night she'd writhed on her bed in agony, expecting her head to explode. She reached up and massaged her neck, rolling her head around on tired shoulders. Fair weather always brightened her day, so she walked out to the front of the barn to sit on a bale of hay, hoping the sunshine would lift her mood.

Beautiful, one-hundred year old Beechnut trees hid the main house from the barn, their canopy of leaves wearing the characteristic bronze gold of late summer. Jesse liked the feeling of being walled in by the huge trees, and she preferred this side of the barn to the back, which opened up onto green, rolling pastures. A winding path led from the barn to the house, and benches had been placed in strategic locations where people could stop to enjoy the view.

Jesse's thoughts wandered to the two-story farmhouse where Morgan and Ryland lived. The farmer who'd built the barn had probably built the house during the same time period. The home could comfortably house a medium-sized farm family, yet it wasn't so big that building it and keeping it would overburden the family finances. The raised porch wrapped around all four sides, with hand-turned Newell posts giving the place a personal touch not often seen on more modern homes. As Jesse absently gazed up the pathway, Ryland walked around one of the bends and called hello when she saw her sitting out front. Jesse acknowledged the greeting with a slight nod of her head.

Ryland took a seat next to her and stretched out her legs. "So, are you getting a feel for the place?"

Jesse pulled out stalks of hay and absently broke them into smaller pieces. "Yeah."

"You have a day off coming up pretty soon. Do you have any plans?" Ryland knew Jesse had stayed in her room on her previous day off, and thought she'd encourage her to get out a little.

"No Ma'am."

Ma'am?
A chip of the ice had just come off the iceberg. "Do you like to read?"

Jesse nodded.

"The town has a surprisingly good library. I'd be glad to drop you off sometime." Ryland picked up a hay stalk and began running it through her fingers while she listened to the wind rustling through the leaves in the trees. A raven pinched a beechnut and tossed it through the air, diving on it as it hit the ground, only to toss it away again.

Jesse watched the sleek bird play for a while, then shrugged.

“Thanks, but if I go, I can get there myself."

Ryland turned so she could look directly at Jesse's face. Black half-circles colored the skin beneath her bloodshot eyes, and the sadness she saw brought back memories of patients she'd worked with over the years. "Jesse, is everything all right? You look exhausted."

Jesse shifted on the hay bale, wanting to tell her about the headaches, but hearing herself say instead, "I'm fine, just not sleeping very well."

"Well, if something's bothering you, I'm a very good listener."

Morgan came around the corner and saved Jesse from answering. She stopped a minute to talk to Ryland. “Hi there. What brings you down this way?"

Ryland stood up and gave her a peck on the cheek. “I just came to remind you of the town hall meeting at five-thirty. You have just enough time to shower and change." Morgan glanced at her watch as the two of them started toward the house, but before they'd gone very far, Ryland glanced back over her shoulder. “It was good talking to you, Jesse. And don't forget the library."

Jesse watched them go, then went back inside to finish her work. She'd forgotten she had a day off coming up. Maybe she should go into town, get a good meal for a change, possibly even grab a few books from the library to satisfy Ryland.

Chapter Four

When the day arrived, Jesse fed the horses their breakfast, then hitchhiked into town. A local café with a purple neon sign shouting
Smokey Joe’s
in oversized letters caught her eye. The interior sported typical small-town décor with purple, backless stools in front of the counter and pink Naugahyde booths lined up against the front windows. Jesse sat in a booth and pulled the one-page menu from between the napkin holder and the salt and pepper shakers.

The waitress stood ready to take her order. The woman, who wasn't much older than Jesse, wore a nametag with
Frieda
written in bright purple letters. Her sunny smile radiated warmth and good cheer, and she greeted Jesse like she'd known her their entire lives.

“Well, good mornin'! Welcome to Joe’s. What can I get for you today?"

"BLT with fries and a Coke."

"You got it." Frieda yelled the order back to the cook who nodded and disappeared from the serving window. Frieda walked around talking to all her customers, filling coffee cups, then making a second round to fill water glasses. Two men sat at the counter, drinking coffee and soaking slices of bread in fried eggs.

One glanced over his shoulder to stare at Jesse, then elbowed his buddy who turned to say something Jesse couldn't hear.

Frieda slapped him on the head as she passed and Jesse heard her tell them to mind their own business. She picked up a plate from the window and walked back to Jesse's table. "Don't you mind them. They've got no manners, like they was raised up in a pigsty. You're new in town. You just visitin' or you plannin' to stay?"

Jesse took a bite of her sandwich. “Don't know yet."

"How's the sandwich?"

"Fine."

"Where you from?"

"Around."

Frieda lay the bill on the table. "You always talk so much?"

"I rarely talk this much."

The woman smiled, then left to help another customer while Jesse finished her meal in silence. When she paid the bill, she left a hefty tip before walking out onto the street.

The town centered around one main street, with businesses lining both sides and houses stretching out and away from the town proper. She'd started down the graying, cracked sidewalk to find the library when blinking signs in the window of the local bar caught her attention. A cold beer on a warm day always appealed to her, so she opened the door and stepped inside.

The lighting flickered a dim yellow and her eyes took a minute to adjust as she made her way to the back to find a seat. She took an empty table where she could sit with her back up against the wall and watch the other patrons drink their beer or play pool in the corner of the room. The bartender ambled over and took her order. The place could have been a saloon in any town Jesse had ever lived in. Most of the tables were small and crammed together in the middle of the room to make space for two pool tables at the back. The bartender dodged the scattered tables and returned with her beer while Jesse read the various beer advertisements hanging from the walls and ceiling and admired the nearly naked women gazing out from posters placed strategically around the room.

An argument at another table caught her attention. Two men shouted over a game of cards while a third watched hungrily, obviously hoping for a fight. The room quieted as the smaller of the three stood up and threw his cards at the man he'd accused of cheating.

When the accused stood, Jesse sized him up. He was close to 6'5", easily weighing two hundred fifty pounds. Strange-shaped fish lips stuck out of a bushy beard that hung almost to his chest, and the tattoos covering his arms emphasized solid muscle as they rippled under his shirt.

She turned her attention to the smaller man, who stood maybe 5'4" if he stretched his neck as high as it would go. He was obviously a strong little guy, his shirt stretching tight across a barrel chest.

The short one looked around, then picked up his chair and rammed full force into the other. Both of them went sailing backward onto a nearby table, sending beer bottles flying and people scrambling to get out of their way. Jesse smiled at the little guy's bravado until the third man jumped in and held the short one in a head lock. Her philosophy had always been to let people fight their own battles, but the odds had just turned against the little guy, and that pissed her off.

She slugged down some beer and wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve. When the big man hauled back ready to ram his fist into the smaller one’s face, Jesse ran forward, leapt onto a table and threw herself on him, grabbing his head in an arm lock and using her momentum to drag him down to the ground.

Morgan, meanwhile, was standing across the street talking with the sheriff about the fixture for the first hunt. She had no idea Jesse was even in town until she looked up and saw her flying through the plate glass window at Harley's Bar. She watched Jesse shake her head, jump onto the windowsill and throw herself back inside the bar.

"Shit! I'm gonna kill her." Morgan sprinted across the street, running into the bar just in time to see Jesse punch Jimbo Jenkins while two other men grappled nearby. Men and women ringed the fighters and cheered loudly each time someone landed a good punch. One man collected quick bets while his girlfriend wrote shouted orders from the people around the circle.

Morgan yelled at the sheriff who had followed her into the bar, "I'll get the woman! The rest are yours." As Morgan pushed her way through the onlookers, Jesse took a punch in the eye that sent her staggering back. Morgan grabbed Jesse's shirt, slipped an arm around her neck and pulled her through the crowd toward the back of the room.

Jesse, thinking someone new had joined the fight, reached up with both hands and grabbed her assailant’s hair intending to throw them over her back.

Morgan lowered her center of gravity, tightened the headlock and yelled in Jesse's ear, "Goddamn it, Jesse, let go of my hair!"

When she heard Morgan's voice, Jesse immediately let go and stopped fighting. Morgan kept her neck locked in the crook of her elbow, waiting for the sheriff to break up the other fighters. Once everyone separated, Morgan let go of the full arm lock but held on to the back of Jesse's shirt to keep her under control.

The sheriff picked his cowboy hat up off the floor and asked the general assembly, "Okay, who's gonna tell me what happened?" Everyone found something else to look at, so the sheriff scratched his balding head and pointed to the bartender.

“Andy, suppose you tell me what started this whole mess."

Andy came out from behind the bar and righted a chair, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he spoke. "Well, Hank accused Tom of cheating so they got into a fight. Jimbo decided Tom couldn't handle Hank alone." The room broke into laughter since Tom was twice the size of Hank. "Once she saw the fight was unfair....” He looked around and then pointed toward Jesse.

“That lady there jumped in to even things up. She did too." There were general nods of agreement around the room.

The sheriff settled his cowboy hat on his head. “All right then.

Andy, do you want to press charges for disorderly conduct or criminal damage?"

Andy shook his head. “Hell no. I just want to know who's gonna pay for my window."

The sheriff looked over his shoulder at the broken glass. “Who threw her through it?"

Tom raised a beefy hand. “I did."

The sheriff nodded. “Then you'll pay for the window. Now, do any of you men want to press charges against anybody else?"

They all shook their heads. The sheriff looked at Jesse.

“Ma'am, do you want to press charges against any of these men?"

Jesse shook her head.

The sheriff pointed to some men. “All right then, you boys get this place cleaned up. Morgan, my thanks, and the two of you are free to go."

Morgan seethed as she hauled Jesse out onto the sidewalk and shoved her toward the truck. “Get your ass in that truck and wait there until I'm done with my business."

Jesse caught her balance and stopped in the middle of street, glaring back at Morgan.

The low growl in Morgan's voice left no doubt about her intentions. “Don't push it, Jesse."

Jesse waited a few beats, pushing Morgan as far as she dared, then turned toward the truck.

Once Jesse climbed into the bed, Morgan went back to the feed store to pay her bill. Rows of vet supplies, dog bones, fly spray and worming medicine lined the center of the store. She walked up and down each aisle to give herself time to calm down.

If Jesse hadn't started for the truck, Morgan had intended to flatten her right there in the street. When she'd sufficiently gotten her anger under control, she paid the cashier and walked back out to the truck. "Get in the cab."

Jesse hesitated, then jumped over the side of the truck and got in the passenger seat. She slumped down and stared out the passenger window. They drove to the farm in silence, Morgan angrily tapping her fingers against the steering wheel and Jesse wondering whether she still had a job. They pulled up to the house and Morgan shoved in the emergency brake. Without saying a word, she walked around to the passenger side to wait for Jesse to get out, then moved in so close that Jesse backed up against the truck to give herself room.

"When you work for this farm, everything you do reflects on my standing in the community. I've already warned you about that.

Do you understand what that means?"

"Yes Ma'am." Jesse knew she was about to be fired, and held onto the smallest hope that she'd keep her job if she played by Morgan's rules. Her eyes focused on a spot on Morgan's right shoulder while she waited for the hammer to fall.

"Since you can't stay out of bars and fights, you can pack your things and get out of here. I've worked too long and too hard to build a solid reputation in this community without you coming along and destroying it." She stepped back, waiting for Jesse to leave.

Jesse stood there, hands at her sides, staring at the ground.

Morgan pointed toward the gate. “Go."

Jesse didn't move.

Ryland stood on the porch listening. She walked out to the truck, put her arm around Morgan's waist and said quietly, "Jesse, why don't you go on down to the apartment. We'll be down in a little while."

When Morgan opened her mouth to object, Ryland pinched her waist. Morgan pursed her lips and watched as Jesse walked toward the barn. She turned to Ryland and pointed back toward the path, her face red, her eyebrows pulled down so far it was a wonder she could still see. “I'll be damned if—"