A Dream to Call My Own (15 page)

“While you go free?” Dave could see that the man was completely serious.

“Why, sure. I’m not such a bad sort. I’d even be willing to move on,” Big John stated as if he’d offered some rare and exquisite gift. “My word is good. I might be given to shady dealings from time to time, but I ain’t no liar.”

“All right, you can start by telling me what information you propose to offer. It would have to be worth the while of the court to even consider it.”

Big John nodded and leaned back in the saddle. “Well, for starters, I know who burned down the Lassiter place. Not only that, I know who ordered it and paid for it.”

Dave had his suspicions but said nothing. “And what else?”

“I know who held up that little Gallatin gal while she was workin’ at the store. Fact is, I know who’s been holding up a lot of folks on the road. I can give you not only the names of the highwaymen, but I can lead you to a couple of their hideouts.”

A tingle ran up Dave’s back. If Big John were telling the truth, it would definitely be worth working out a deal. “And you’re confident of your knowledge.”

“As confident as can be. I was there. I saw it all.”

“You realize you’re admitting participation—that you were one of the highwaymen.”

Big John shrugged. “Well, I ain’t saying I was or I wasn’t. I’m just sayin’ I was there and saw it all. Anything else, you can only get by supposin’.”

Dave drew a deep breath. “I’ll speak personally to the sheriff and see if we can get an audience with the judge. I would advise, however, that if you want to make a deal, you be the very model of a perfect prisoner while awaiting the outcome of our talk.”

The man shifted his weight and grinned. “I’ll be better than a preacher man at Sunday service.”

He had his doubts about Big John, but Dave knew this might be the very break he’d been waiting for. He couldn’t risk not at least checking into the man’s story and seeing what could be done to harvest all of the information possible. Suddenly a thought came to Dave.

“I don’t suppose you would know anything about George Gallatin’s death?”

The man’s grin broadened. “I might. I just might.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Gwen straightened from her work in the garden and dusted her hands. The beans and squash were growing well, and they should harvest twice as much as last year. She mentally calculated how many quarts of vegetables she might put up before they moved in the fall.

“You seem awfully deep in thought,” Lacy said. She set down one final bucket of water and asked, “Where do you want this one?”

“Pour it on the first row. I don’t think it got nearly enough water the first time around.”

Lacy nodded and retrieved the bucket. “Frankly, if we weren’t moving, I’d suggest digging an irrigation ditch. It can’t be any harder to do that than carry all this water back and forth.”

“Hank says the land we have up north is going to have a well right in the back courtyard of the hotel. It will be easily accessible for all of our needs.”

Lacy finished watering the beans. “I’m glad you’ll have that, but I’m sure you’ll miss the hot springs. Heating water all the time is going to get very tiresome.”

Gwen pulled her bonnet back and dabbed her forehead with a handkerchief. “Hank says he has an idea for that, as well, although I don’t completely understand how it would work. Something about a reservoir on the roof and the sun heating it.”

“That will be fine for the three months of spring and summer, but what about the nine months of fall and winter?”

She smiled at her little sister. “He has another plan for that. Hank is full of plans. He wants so much for the town to flourish and be as civilized as anything back East.”

Lacy nodded. “I’m going to go see if Beth needs me to bring in more of the laundry.”

“Is she still ironing all those sheets?”

“Last I checked, she was.”

“Well, you might also check on Hank and Julianne. I hated to leave him to watch over her, but if I didn’t take advantage of the cool evening, I would never get this weeding done.”

“I’ll see if he needs anything.”

“Tell him I should be in directly. I have just a few more things to tend.”

Gwen turned her attention back to the garden and picked up her hoe. This was definitely a better year for the vegetables. Even her potatoes were growing well. She smiled. It was satisfying to be able to do something for her family. Most of the time she felt that the stage passengers were the only ones she could give her time and attention to.

Julianne had been rather demanding of late, but Gwen supposed that was perfectly normal. The baby was six months old and actively seeking to make herself mobile. She could already sit by herself and would get up and rock back and forth on her knees when allowed out on a blanket on the floor. Julianne seemed quite advanced for her age, and at this rate, it would only be a matter of time—days, probably—before she started crawling. Gwen imagined Julianne would want to explore everything.

A gunshot rang out down by the river and Gwen startled. The air was already filled with the sounds of men at work, people arguing, and women laughing shrilly to attract interest from the prospectors.

I won’t miss the noise,
Gwen thought. The gold strike had so completely changed their lives at Gallatin Crossing. Nick and Hank had fenced off her garden, but people still snuck in to steal from them. Clothes and linens had disappeared from the line, and they were reduced to keeping the chickens on the back porch unless someone could watch over them. All because of the underhanded deeds of their new neighbors.

Lacy came out the back door just as Gwen made her way to the house. She frowned at her sister. “Julianne is crying, and Hank can’t seem to calm her.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll go relieve him as soon as I get cleaned up.”

“I don’t know. She felt kind of feverish to me,” Lacy said. “It might just be because it’s warm today and she’s been crying for a while.”

This stopped Gwen in her steps. “A fever? Surely not. She was perfectly fine when I came out here.” Gwen pulled off her gardening apron and hurried up the stairs to the back porch. She deposited her tools and apron before heading into the house. The moment she opened the inside door, however, she could hear the screams of her daughter.

Forgetting about washing up, Gwen raced up the back stairs and made her way to the bedroom. Hank was pacing back and forth like a sentry at duty, the crying Julianne in his arms. He looked at Gwen as if pleading for salvation.

“What’s wrong with her?” Gwen asked, reaching with her dirty hands for the baby.

“I have no idea. She just started fussing, and when I tried to offer her a little water, she wasn’t at all interested. I’m no good at caring for her.” His voice was gruff.

She put her hand on his arm. “Hank, babies cry. They don’t have any other means of communication.” She gave him a squeeze, then turned her attention back to the child.

The infant continued to cry despite Gwen’s attempts to comfort her. Putting her hand to the baby’s head, Gwen realized Lacy was right. Julianne had a fever.

Fear edged up Gwen’s spine, and she stiffened. “Have there been any epidemics in the camp?”

Hank met her eyes. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard of any. Why? Do you think she’s sick?”

“I fear she might be. She’s quite warm.”

“I’ll go for the doctor,” Hank said. “I honestly didn’t know she might be sick.”

Julianne calmed just a bit and snuggled her head against Gwen’s neck. She rubbed her head back and forth for several moments and continued to fuss. Gwen had never seen her like this. “Please hurry, Hank. I’m so frightened.”

He put his arm around her. “It surely can’t be that bad. The doctor should know what to do.”

Gwen nodded, but she had little confidence in Hank’s statement. Doctors were wrong all the time. Medicine was really little better than a guessing game, as far as Gwen was concerned. After all, a doctor hadn’t been able to save her first husband when he contracted measles.

At the thought of the measles, Gwen shivered and clutched Julianne even tighter. This actually seemed to appeal to the child and she calmed momentarily. What if it were measles or whooping cough or diphtheria? Did babies as young as Julianne take on such diseases?

A clutching in Gwen’s stomach sent a wave of nausea washing over her. She remembered how hard they had fought to save Harvey. He’d fallen so terribly ill on their wedding day, and by night, he’d been delirious with fever.

Gwen hurried to the crib and laid her daughter in it. Julianne howled in protest as Gwen began to undress her, but Gwen had to assure herself that there were no telltale red spots on the baby’s body. She turned the infant several times before convincing herself that there wasn’t any sign of measles.

“What do you suppose is wrong?” Beth asked from the door.

“I don’t know. I worried that it might be measles, but she doesn’t have any spots. She’s feverish and fussy, but otherwise I just don’t know. She acts as if she’s in pain. Look at the way she pulls up her legs when she cries.”

Beth came closer and watched for a moment. “I pray it’s nothing serious.” The fear in her voice was evident as she added, “Nothing contagious.”

Worried about her son, Beth made her way back to her bedroom. When she’d gone to see what was wrong with Julianne, Max had been peacefully sleeping. Hearing no sound from him, she tiptoed to the cradle and frowned. The blanket had been rearranged to completely cover the baby. Pulling it back, Beth let out a yelp when the cat jumped from the bed and hurried out of the room.

Giggles sounded from behind her bed. Beth turned to find Justin hiding there. “Where is Max? What have you done?”

His smile immediately dissolved. “He’s right there under that sheet.”

Beth hurried to the still sleeping baby and clutched him close. He seemed no worse for the incident and opened his eyes for a moment, then settled back to sleep.

“That was a terrible thing to do. You might have fallen with him. You might have killed your own brother!” Beth knew she was on the edge of hysteria. “Go to your room. Go there now and wait for your punishment.”

“I was just playing a prank,” Justin protested. “Just like the ones you taught me. I thought it was funny, and I wanted you to laugh. You never laugh anymore.”

“It wasn’t funny,” Beth countered. “It wasn’t funny at all. Now leave—get out of here before I tan your hide.”

She settled into her rocking chair, holding Max close to her body, even as Justin ran from the room. Her heart raced within her chest, and Beth found it difficult to draw a breath. She let out a sob. What if something had happened to him?

“I think you have nothing more to worry about than a bit of teething,” the doctor told Gwen.

She sighed in relief and sank to the chair. “Are you sure? She seems to be in pain.”

The doctor smiled and lifted the baby in his arms. “She probably is. Teething can cause all manner of hurts. Her gums are probably sore, and she might even experience an ear and stomachache.” He handed Julianne to Gwen and started to gather his instruments.

“I would suggest just giving her a wet cloth to chew on.” He picked up his bag and smiled. “My own mother said nothing works better. They like to have something to chew against to ease the pain. If all else fails, a drop of clove oil can numb the pain, but I caution you: Too much will burn and blister the gums. You must be very careful with it.”

Gwen nodded. “I’ll try the other ways first.” She looked at her daughter and heaved a sigh of relief. Motherhood was such an unpredictable and frightening experience at times.

“Your husband tells me that you’ll soon be moving up north.”

“We don’t feel that it’s safe to live in this area anymore. We had no idea what destruction a town could face until gold was discovered. The place hardly seems the same. More lowlife scum move in by the day.”

“That’s the way of things when you involve gamblers and those who prey upon them. I’m sure you’ve heard that the folks from Hamilton are also considering a move north.”

“Hank did mention it. Will you relocate with them?”

The doctor shrugged. “I’m not sure. Your husband would like very much for me to consider joining your group.”

Gwen thought it considerate that Hank should try to secure a doctor for their community. “I would like that myself. It isn’t easy to think of starting over—of setting up a town in the midst of what has only been wide-open land. I would feel so much better knowing that we had some of the basic necessities close at hand, and a doctor such as yourself would be right at the top of my list.”

He nodded. “I plan to speak to my wife on the matter when I return to Hamilton. She has a sister in Bozeman, and I’m sure she’d prefer living closer to her than farther away.”

Just then Hank returned from tending the store. “How is she?” he asked.

Gwen lifted Julianne up for Hank to see for himself. “She’s teething.”

“So she’s not in danger?” he asked, reaching out to touch his daughter’s brow.

“She’s just fine,” the doctor said. “She’ll hurt and cry. It’s more annoying than dangerous.” He headed for the door. “Well, since I’m here I’d best see if I’m needed elsewhere.”

Hank handed the man some money. “I hope this covers everything. And I’m sorry to have dragged you out so late. You’re welcome to spend the night if you like.”

“This is plenty, Mr. Bishop.” The doctor put the money in his vest pocket. “Thanks for the offer of a bed, but I need to check on old Mr. Fraser on the way home. And I’ll be in touch about the new town. I must say I’m intrigued.”

Nick worked the bellows to build the fire hot enough to work the horseshoes he’d been forming. He longed for the days of his well-organized shop with Simon at his side. He’d heard very little from his brother of late. Ellie had penned a short letter to say they were doing well but that Simon was always busy with work. Having been together for so much of their life, Nick felt Simon’s absence in a most keen way.

Of course, Beth and the boys made up for some of that loss. He had to admit should they be taken from his life, he would no doubt feel an even greater void. But sometimes he longed for a talk with Simon. They shared history, understood each other’s hopes and dreams. It wasn’t that Beth couldn’t understand, but she was his wife, and there were things he didn’t wish to discuss with her for fear of worrying her.

The metal horseshoe finally glowed red hot, and Nick pulled it from the fire and began pounding it on the anvil. Blacksmithing was a fine art. Too much heat and the metal would become brittle—not enough and it wouldn’t be malleable enough to work. Even the amount of pressure applied in each stroke of the hammer had to be just right.

“I see you’re hard at work,” Dave Shepard announced.

Nick continued working the shoe. “I have to get shoes on two horses, and I’ve put it off long enough.”

“Well, I need to talk to you for a minute if you can spare the time. It’s something you’re gonna want to hear.”

Straightening, Nick plunged the shoe into water. “All right. Let’s have it.”

Dave drew a deep breath. “I know who set the fire that destroyed your place.”

Nick frowned. He had anticipated the day when someone might give him this news, but now that it had come, he found he wasn’t as calm as he had hoped he might be. Anger coursed through him as he remembered watching his livelihood go up in flames.

“Who?”

“Now, I don’t have all the proof I need just yet, but I have a witness. What I’d prefer is having a confession from the one responsible.”

Nick shook his head and tossed the tongs aside. “Who was it?”

“Wyman.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, like I said, I have a witness. I took Big John to jail over in Bozeman yesterday, and he wanted to make a deal in order to get out of prison time. I’m not sure why he was so concerned. He’s got witnesses who say it was self-defense, but I’m thinking maybe the man has other crimes to be counted against him and figured those would come out.”

Nick was already taking off his leather apron. The only thing he could think of was pounding Wyman’s face into pulp. He was headed for the open door of the small shop when Dave reached out to stop him.

“I can’t have you going to confront him. Not yet.”