A Claim of Her Own (23 page)

Late Monday morning Jonas climbed into the saddle. He’d do Splittail Gulch camps first, then circle back and follow Deadwood Creek toward Gayville. Along the way he’d encounter plenty of miners and plenty of camps. He might even ask about Dillon O’Keefe by name. He could pretend to be
his
brother.

“She’s coming!” Freddie yelled as he hurried in the door of Garth and Company Merchandise. “There’s a whole string of freighters headed down from Splittail and I can see Mor’s outfit. I know it’s hers. You want me to run up and walk with her like I usually do? If I don’t run up there she might think something is wrong. We don’t want her to think anything’s wrong. Or she might guess a surprise. We need to hurry and get the canvas up.”

He charged toward the back of the stairs, up to the second story, and was nearly out the window that looked out on the porch roof before Tom caught up. “Slow down, Freddie,” he said. “If you fall off the roof, it will be a
bad
surprise.”

“I won’t fall,” Freddie said. “I climb around up on the gulch all the time. There’s a ledge and—”

“All right, all right.” Tom smiled and motioned for Freddie to climb out the window.

Tom followed him and together they crept across the roof of the porch and, grasping the corners of the piece of canvas rolled up behind the sign, unfurled it so the sign itself was covered.

Once back downstairs, Tom surveyed the inside of the store with a critical eye.

“You don’t have to be worried,” Freddie said.

“I’m not worried.”

“Yes you are. You have that look on your face people get when they are worried. Why are you worried, Tom?”

“Well,” Tom sighed. “We changed things quite a bit in here. I hope she isn’t upset with us.”

“She won’t be upset,” Freddie said. “She’s going to be happy. She likes lemonade.” Freddie gestured toward the cooler. “It will make more people come, just like you said. And we want more people.” He headed for the door. “You’ll see. She’s going to be so happy about everything you won’t believe it.” He set off up the trail at a gallop.

“Gee-ho!” Swede cracked her whip. “Get on dere, Lars, you four-legged candidate for de slaughterhouse. You’re almost to pasture and a few days off, so give it another pull and let us get dis vagon to home.” She was actually hoarse. All that rain and damp, she supposed. Tired, too. More tired than she’d ever been. But she’d be fine once she had a good night’s rest in her own place.
Her own place.

She wanted to be excited but kept trying to tell herself that a million things could have happened to keep Tom English from making good on his promise to have the store finished when she got back. Oh, sure, the saw mills were running and buildings going up fast, but mills could break down, and if that happened up here it could take weeks to get them up and running again. With all the thousands of men roaming the area in search of gold, one would think that laborers were easy to find. Such was not true.

There might be little more than a wooden shell
. Tom English was a good man, and he could do more with that hook than a lot of men could with two good hands, but he wasn’t going to set any records at building. Freddie was strong, but when it came to hammering nails he was slow. Swede worried that Tom wouldn’t have understood that. Freddie knew he was different and he felt bad about it sometimes. She should have told Tom about Freddie’s problems with things like hammering nails.

Eva screeched, “Free! Free! Free!” and practically threw herself out of the wagon with excitement.

Freddie galloped up and scooped her out of the wagon, beaming with joy. “She said my name, Mor!” He kissed Eva’s cheek.

“That she did,” Swede agreed, as surprised as Freddie. Eva had been muttering “Free” for most of one of those rainy days. Could she have been wishing for her brother to play with her?

Swede wanted to ask about the store, but Freddie kept babbling about everything that had happened since she left. He spent most of his time talking about Mattie O’Keefe shooting Brady Sloan. Mattie bringing gold into town. Mattie insisting on carrying a big credit on the store ledger. Mattie staying on her claim even in all the rain. Mattie having “grit” and earning the name Matt the Miner from the McKays and others in the gulch. Mattie not liking Aron Gallagher. And Mattie wanting to help unload the freight and get first chance at whatever Mor was bringing into Deadwood this trip.

“I’m supposed to let her know when you’re back,” Freddie said.

“Well, I’m back,” Swede said. “So you can go after her.”

“I will,” Freddie said, but he didn’t let go of Eva.

Swede cracked her whip above the heads of her team. “It vill take you about as long to get up dat gulch and get back down as it vill take me to get dese oxen down de trail,” Swede said. “So yoost go.”

“Not yet,” Freddie said.

Swede frowned. “Is someting wrong?”

He shook his head.

“Mr. English isn’t hurt? Or sick?”

Freddie shook his head again. Finally he blurted out, “It’s a surprise. I can’t go until you get your surprise.”

So the store is finished.
Swede smiled. “Ah,” she said. “So my store is finished?”

“It’s a surprise,” Freddie repeated. “And you shouldn’t ask, because then it’s not a surprise.”

Swede nodded. Tom English had finished her store while she was gone. What a good man he was. What a blessing. What would she do if he decided to leave Deadwood?

Katerina Ingegard Jannike. Stop borrowing tomorrow’s troubles.
Didn’t God provide you Garth when Freddie’s father ran off? And won’t
He provide again if Mr. English must go? Why do you always spoil
today’s joy with worry? Why must the sky always be about to cloud
over for you?

Well, she didn’t know the answer to that. Except that life was so hard, and that’s just how it had always been ever since Garth died.
Count the blessings.
Ah. So many blessings. Twenty of them right here with her, lumbering along pulling all these tons of freight and not one of them sick.
And isn’t that a small miracle in itself?
It was. She was thankful. But, God forgive her, how she longed to part from these particular four-legged blessings, to lay down her bullwhip and not look back. And how she wished that she had time to wash her face and tend to herself a bit.

The closer Swede got to town, the more nervous Tom English felt. He’d been stupid to think he could change any of Swede’s plans and not raise her ire. Who did he think he was, anyway? Oh, she called him her partner, but people did that until a disagreement came along. Then you found out the truth. They’d been thinking of you as a paid employee all along, and now that you’d exercised your own opinions in such a blatant way—
Stop worrying. If she doesn’t want
the ladies’ geegaws at the back of the store, you’ll move the displays. If
she doesn’t want to give away free lemonade, so be it. You’ve done good
work here, and she’ll acknowledge it.

Inspiration struck. As Swede’s train inched its way into town and he caught sight of the yellow bonnet she always wore, Tom went back inside just long enough to grab a tin mug and fill it with lukewarm lemonade. He wished they had ice. Something to think about. Maybe a small icehouse out back.

Finally he heard her voice. Tom went back out to greet her. She was looking up at the sign with a puzzled expression on her face. Freddie had Eva perched on his shoulders. She smiled and raised both hands and shouted, “Ta-ta!”

“Hello, little angel,” Tom said, smiling.

“Ta-ta!” Eva repeated.

Tom frowned. “Is she—?”

Swede said hello and nodded. “Freddie is ‘Free.’ I believe you have been christened ‘Ta-Ta.’ ”

Tom reached up to take Eva’s hand. He felt strangely moved at the idea that little Eva would learn his name as part of her first words. Swede was staring at the store. Tom let go of Eva’s hand. “We have a little surprise,” he said, and handing Swede the mug of lemonade, he cupped her elbow in his hand and guided her to step back away from the store.

“All right, Freddie,” he said. “Do the honors.”

Freddie pulled first one and then the second rope that released the canvas covering the sign. The mug of lemonade dropped to the ground and both Swede’s hands came up to her mouth as she read, “ ‘Garth and Company Merchandise.’ ”

“Dala,” she croaked through her hands.

“Freddie’s idea,” Tom explained. “He said you always had one on the mantel in your home. I hope you’re pleased.”

Swede blinked rapidly. She made a strange half-choking sound as she tried to clear her throat.

“Ah,” Tom said and put his hand on her shoulder. “You approve. I’m so glad.” He hesitated. “I made some changes inside. I hope you won’t be too upset. We can go back to what you planned if—” He never finished that sentence. Swede lost the battle to control her emotions. First, she leaned against her wagon and hid her face in her hands to cry. And then, as Tom and Freddie patted her and tried to bring comfort, Eva started to cry.

Freddie took Eva off his shoulders. “There, there,” he cooed. “It’s all right. Mor’s happy. Aren’t you, Mor?”

Swede nodded, but she didn’t stop crying. So Tom did what any gentleman would do. He offered a clean handkerchief. And then he offered his shoulder. And then he held Swede in his arms.

C
HAPTER 13

A talebearer revealeth secrets:

but he that is of a faithful spirit concealeth the matter.

Proverbs 11:13

M
attie grunted as she hefted a flour sack onto one shoulder. She almost staggered beneath the weight but still managed to get it inside the store before yelling, “Help!”

Tom came running. “We’re already impressed with Matt the Miner,” he scolded. “You don’t have to hurt your back proving how hard you can work.” Easing the sack onto his own shoulder, he headed for the combination storeroom and kitchen at the back of the building.

“You listen to him,” Swede agreed as she came through the front door carrying several bolts of calico. “Leave dose sacks for Freddie and Tom.” She slid fabric onto the shelves along one wall before asking, “Vat do you tink?”

Mattie didn’t want to say.

“Come now,” Swede insisted. “Really. Vat do you tink?”

“Bright colors. Cheerful, I suppose.”

Swede stood back and surveyed the pile of goods. “I vas tinking more . . . hideous dan cheerful.” She laughed. “Vich is vy I paid only five cents per yard. Ve charge ten cents and de miners who have cabins or brush shanties have a cheap cover for de insides. Much better dan paper.”

“I hope it sells,” Mattie said. The stuff really was awful. She touched one particularly ugly sample. Garish tones of yellow and green outlined unrecognizable shapes on muddy-colored backgrounds far too reminiscent of the color of gumbo mixed with a liberal amount of manure.

“Ve have a few tousand yards. I suppose I can use it to paper de valls upstairs if I can’t sell it.”

Freddie grimaced. “Do we have to, Mor?”

Everyone laughed.

A few minutes later, as Mattie and Swede added the last of the fabric to the shelves, Freddie came from the back holding a black furball in his arms. “Mr. Tallent said he’s ours.” When he put it down, the furball uncurled and stood up. It was a gangly black puppy with intelligent dark eyes.