Friends and Enemies (25 page)

Robert reined up and rubbed the black horse's neck. “I reckon you're right. Did you find any grub?”

“Six pork chops and a dozen cold biscuits,” Taite reported.

In the shadows Robert glanced down at his open, now- buttonless vest.
Jamie Sue, if you could see Captain Fortune now.
“Cold pork chops and biscuits? Then it's time to stop. Let's ride up this little creek until the water is running clean.”

Miss Sandra Raxton was, without a doubt, the dirtiest woman Jamie Sue Fortune had ever seen.

That is, until she spied Miss Augusta Raxton.

Lord, how does a sane, civilized person ever get that bad? I don't know whether to cry or get the smelling salts. I trust I know what I'm doing. If You sent me to a primitive land, I suppose I'd do the same. It could be worse . . . but not much. I'm not sure the others knew what they were getting into.

After polite introductions from ten feet away, Jamie Sue led the Raxton sisters up the alley to the back of the Paris Dress Shoppe. Two nicely dressed women waited at the top of the rough wooden stairway. An elegantly dressed woman stood in the dress shop's back door.

“Miss Sandra Raxton, and Miss Augusta Raxton, this is Abby Fortune. She's Sammy's wife . . .”

“No wonder he's as happy as a pup with a new bone!” Sandra chuckled.

“She owns the dress shop and will be selecting some ready-made dresses for you,” Jamie Sue announced.

“Don't reckon we've ever had ready-mades,” Augusta added. “Not since we was little girls.”

“We haven't had any new dresses since we were little,” Sandra added. “Mama died when we were young. We're payin' for these dresses. We got gold.” She glanced up and down the alley, then leaned so close that Jamie Sue had to cover her mouth to keep from coughing. “I've got eight thousand dollars worth of gold on me at this very minute!”

Jamie Sue watched Abby roll her eyes. She tried to smile at Sandra Raxton.
Where in the world does a woman that thin hide eight thousand dollars worth of gold? I don't think I want to know.

“We're kind of tall, and skinny as a post. You don't have somethin' that would make us look fluffed up, do you?” Augusta asked. “Not like you two, of course. We don't expect miracles.”

Abby stepped back a bit to take a breath of air, then smiled. “I might just have something. Now that I know your sizes, I'll see what we can do. Undoubtedly there will be some alterations needed.”

“Alterations in what?” Sandra Raxton demanded.

“Why, in the dresses, of course. Ready-made dresses never fit anyone just right.” Abby slipped back into the store and closed the door behind her.

Jamie Sue led the sisters up the stairway. “Now, this tall, stately lady is my sister-in-law, Rebekah Fortune.”

“Which one is she married to?” Sandra Raxton asked.

“Todd. I don't believe you've met him yet,” Rebekah reported.

“Ain't you got none that aren't married?” Augusta asked.

“Augusta Raxton, you told me you already picked out a beau!” her sister chided.

Jamie Sue scurried up a few more stairs.
A beau? My word, I hope he lost his nose in the war . . . Lord, how shameful of me. I'm glad Your love for us isn't dependent on our looks . . . or our smell!
“Ladies, this young woman is my sister-in-law, Dacee June.”

“You mean there's four Fortune boys?” Miss Sandra quizzed.

“No,” Dacee June grinned. “I'm their sister, Dacee June Fortune Toluca. We've got two tubs ready. One in the room on the left and one on the right.”

“Private baths? Unused water?” Sandra added. “Ain't we actin' nobby?”

“Rebekah is in charge of washing your hair and fixing it. She's very good at that!” Jamie Sue reported.

“I don't know that it's time to wash my hair,” Augusta protested.

“Nonsense, I can still see the gold dust from the mine stuck to it.” Rebekah stepped to the side and took three deep breaths. “When was the last time you washed it?”

“Last summer,” Augusta declared.

“No it wasn't. It was the summer before, in Miles City,” Sandra challenged.

“How about that time we got thrown out of the coach in the middle of the Yellowstone River?” Augusta reminded her sister.

“That don't count for hair-washin'. Does it, Mrs. Fortune?” Sandra huffed.

“Certainly not,” Jamie Sue declared. “Dacee June is in charge of hauling hot water for you, Miss Sandra. And I'll do the same for Miss Augusta. We'll help you scrub up too.”

“We don't need no help takin' a bath,” Augusta announced.

“Oh,” Dacee June added, “it's what all the rich ladies do. They have bath attendants. We're volunteering this one time to give you a taste of being wealthy mine owners. You'll have to get used to it sooner or later.”

“Well, if this is what the rich do . . .” Sandra grinned, revealing perfectly straight, very white teeth. “I reckon we'll jist have to get used to it.”

“Are you ready for this?” Jamie Sue whispered to Rebekah.

“I feel like Michelangelo trying to discover the beauty in a hunk of rock,” Rebekah whispered back.

Jamie Sue watched Rebekah and Dacee June tug the Raxton sisters toward their baths.
Lord, this feels good. The Fortune ladies . . . working together . . . helping others. . . . For fifteen years it has been just me. My goodness, if we can pull this off, we can do about anything!

With the pork chops and biscuits already cooked, Robert decided against building a fire. He hobbled the horses, then settled in with his back against the jagged trunk of a lightning dwarfed pine tree. Stillman Taite sat across from him, cross-legged.

“What do you think causes a man to go bad like Holter?” Taite asked.

Fortune gnawed on a pork chop bone and could feel shreds of sweet meat stick between his teeth. “We're all born sinners, Taite. I suppose it's no surprise that we do bad. The real question is why folks ever do good.”

“You sayin' all of us are like Holter?”

“Seems to me very few of us are as bad as we could be.”

“I reckon a lot of folks is as good as they can be.”

Robert Fortune brushed some biscuit crumbs off his neatly trimmed dark beard. “Yes, but without the Lord, that's a mighty low standard. God doesn't want us as good as we can be. He wants us perfect.”

“Shoot, I never met a perfect man.” Then a smile broke across Taite's face. “But I knew some women who were mighty close.”

Robert's voice was low, as if talking to the dark itself. “All of us sin. That's why we need a Savior.”

“Are you theologizin' me?” Taite complained.

“Probably. I just got lulled into thinkin' I could easily tell the good from the bad. I was surprised about Holter. I thought I had him judged different. He wasn't the one I was worried about.”

“You thought I was the one that was goin' to give you trouble. Right?” There was a chuckle in Taite's voice. “I saw misgivin' in your eyes that day you hired me.”

“I thought . . . well, to be honest . . . I didn't expect trouble from you, but I didn't know how you'd adapt to this job. I thought maybe you stretched your qualifications a bit.”

“How's that?”

“When you mentioned working for Pappy Divide in Cheyenne.”

“That part's the truth.”

“I know. I checked it out.”

“Did you telegraph Cheyenne?”

“No, Tap Andrews and his wife, Pepper, were at the hardware last week. My brother Todd mentioned your name to him.”

“What did he say about me?” Taite asked.

“Said he didn't know you but he followed you, and everyone said you were a good deputy.”

“See, there . . . I was tellin' the truth.” Taite picked his teeth with a dirty fingernail. “What time we leavin' in the mornin'?”

“We're leavin' in about an hour.”

“We cain't track at night.”

“Sure we can. The full moon'll be up by then, and the trail is well marked. It doesn't take much to follow three-studded iron-rim wheel tracks.”

“We got time for a little nap, don't we?”

“Let's rest the ponies an hour, then see what we can find.”

Taite stretched out on his back in the evening shadows with his hat pulled over his face, his head on his saddle.

Robert Fortune stared at the awakening night sky.

I'll let Stillman sleep. I can't. Just too many things on my mind, Lord. I thought life up here would be simple. Routine. Just family things. 'Course nothin' in my family is ever routine.

A big prairie moon crept up in the east. One lone bright star hung above it. Robert leaned back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes.

Maybe I was wrong, Lord. I do like this job. It's near the front line of right and wrong. It's keeping men, women, families safe. Well . . . not all women and boys. I can't believe they're using their sons like this. What are they going to be like when they grow up? That's wrong, Lord. Way wrong.

If there is goin' to be violence on the train, . . . then someone needs to be here to stop it. The hold-up proves they need security. Maybe it validates my being hired.

But I have to catch every criminal. If I can't catch them, then I'm not doin' my job.

If I can't catch the Holters, then maybe I'm the wrong one. . . . But if I do catch them, . . . then perhaps I am exactly the right one. Lord, I do want to be somewhere I can be in the battle of right against wrong.

Both horses were saddled and Stillman Taite stood near his feet when Robert opened his eyes again. His forehead and neck felt sweaty even though there was a slightly cool breeze. “Guess I needed a rest more than I thought,” he admitted.

Taite brushed back his mustache. “Worryin' does that to a man, I reckon.”

“I wish we were tracking just a man, or a gang of men. Having a woman and children along is troubling.” Robert took the reins of his horse and checked the cinch.

Taite mounted up in the moonlight. “You mean, if Holter or his wife were to start shootin' at us?”

“I don't know if I want to shoot back or not.” Robert stuck his left foot in the stirrup, then grabbed the hard leather saddlehorn with his right.

“I've been thinkin' the same thing.”

Fortune pulled himself up into the saddle. “You a praying man, Stillman?”

“When I git scared enough.”

Robert could feel the cold leather of the saddle in the places where his pants were ripped. “Well, let's pray we can capture them without a shot fired.”

The wagon trail broke into a clearing. Even in the moonlight, Robert could see it stretch straight ahead of them for almost a mile. Then it seemed to lead up into some white rocks or cliffs.

Fortune and Taite rode their horses side by side at a slow walk as they traveled across the clearing. The moon was high enough now to project slight shadows from the horses and riders and reflect off the limestone cliffs.

Taite's voice was low. “You reckon there are some of those caves you was talkin' about up in the white rocks?”

“Seems like a natural site.”

“They could be up there right now watchin' us come across this clearin'. They could take a shot at us before we even see them.”

Robert kept his eyes focused on the rocks ahead. “That might be. But if I were them, I wouldn't give away my position until I knew for sure someone was trailing me.”

Stillman Taite scratched the back of his neck. “Mr. Fortune, you ever shoot buffalo at nine hundred yards?”

“Nope. I got meat for General Crook a few times with my trapdoor carbine, but I was a lot closer than nine hundred yards. How about you, Stillman?”

“I spent a month skinnin' for old Rum McNair. He could drop them at nine hundred to a thousand yards, when he was sober.”

“Taite, where is this leading?”

“If Holter had a long-barreled Sharps in those caves, they could pick us off in this bright moonlight.”

“Are you always this optimistic, Taite?”

“Yep. Born that way, I reckon.”

They crossed the wide clearing and stopped their horses near a grove of pine seedlings no more than six feet tall.

“Which way now? These tracks are going to disappear in the shadows,” Taite commented.

Robert Fortune climbed down out of the saddle and squatted next to the wagon tracks.
Lord, he's right, this is crazy to go barging off into the darkness. I can barely see the tracks now.

A faint cry caused Robert to stand straight up.

“Did you hear that?” he whispered.

“A coyote . . . or what?”

“No, it was a child cryin' ‘Daddy.'”

Taite pulled off his hat and brushed the hair back off his ears. “You're hearin' things.”

“You don't have any kids, do you?”

“Nope.”

“Then you might not hear it. It was a child's voice,” Robert declared. “Let's tie off the horses and hike up there by foot. I heard one of the boys. He must have woke up from a bad dream.”

Taite leaned close, then whispered back, “And I only heard a hoot owl.”

Robert led them up toward the rocks. The slope of the mountain and the rocks increased, but there was still a wide enough trail for a buckboard. He pulled out his revolver but refused to cock the hammer.
How in the world do you arrest train robbers in the dark without firing a shot? But I'm not doing those boys a favor letting them think it's alright to rob and steal without getting caught.

The trail leveled out near the front of a twenty-foot cliff. In the moonlight Robert spotted the buckboard parked parallel to the cliff. One horse was tied behind it; he couldn't see the second horse.
They may be under the wagon, in the wagon, behind the wagon, or in a cave . . . cave. . . . The boys are in a shallow cave. . . . That's why the voice echoed all the way down the mountain.