Shadow of Legends (15 page)

“Down to get me some supper in China Town. I just happened to notice the busted window. I reckon they was expecting you, Todd.”

“And Daddy!” Dacee June added. “If they didn't know he was out of town, they would have expected to see Daddy, that's for sure.”

“And maybe Sheriff Bullock,” Carty added. “He always comes runnin' at gunshots . . . especially those up in this part of town.”

Dacee June scooted up next to Todd. “Do you think someone was trying to ambush us?”

Todd suddenly felt the cold receiver of the shotgun in his right hand. “Maybe. Either that or put the fear of ambush in us.”

“Well, that part worked.” She stared out at the night as a crowd gathered in the shadows down at the corner. “What are we going to do now?”

“Carty and I will board up this window, clean up the glass, and repair the front door. The excitement seems to be over now.”

Dacee June rocked back on her heels. “Do you want me to go to the livery and get some horses?”

“Why do we want horses?” Carty asked.

“So we can ride out after them. That's what Daddy would do. He'd form a posse and ride them down if it took all summer.”

“That's not what we're going to do,” Todd announced. “Not even the legendary Daddy Brazos can track two men through the Black Hills at night. We'll check with Sheriff Bullock when he comes back. Meanwhile, I need you to go let Rebekah know what's going on. She's bound to be a little concerned.”

Several men scurried up the wooden sidewalk from the direction of the badlands. “Fortune, you need any help?”

“No thanks, Boys, it's settled down now.”

“What happened?” one called out.

“Someone took potshots at the windows.”

“What really happened?” A deep familiar voice sliced through the night directly behind Todd.

He spun around. Quiet Jim stood behind him. His duck coat was buttoned only at the top. His hat was pulled down over his eyes. His '73 Winchester carbine was cradled in his left arm. He had no smile, and his eyes pierced the night air.

“How's Columbia?” Dacee June asked.

In the dark shadows, Todd could see Quiet Jim tip his hat to Dacee June. “They were asleep. Thanks for askin'.”

Todd put his hand on Carty's shoulder. “Walk Dacee June home, would you?”

Carty's reply was enthusiastic. “Yes sir.”

“I don't need any help,” she insisted. “I have a gun, you know. And I'll use it if I need to.”

“We all know that,” Todd assured her.

“And I won't feel one bit better having him along.”

“No, but I'll feel better,” Todd said.

“You goin' to tell me what really happened?” Quiet Jim repeated.

“Let's go warm up some coffee and clean up this mess, and I'll tell you what I know,” Todd offered.
I don't know what these old men have, but it surely does feel good to have Quiet Jim standing alongside me, Lord. I can think of another old codger that I wish was here about now, too.

It took nearly two hours for them to board up the big window at the hardware. Carty traipsed home. Todd locked the front door. The evening air felt cool on Todd's sweaty face.

“Thanks for fetching me those one-by-twelves, Quiet Jim.”

Quiet Jim's voice sounded like striking the lowest note on a piano over and over. “I told your daddy I'd look after you.”

Todd slipped the store key into his vest pocket. “You really think it's those stage robbers looking for revenge?”

“Some old boys is funny that way,” Quiet Jim explained. “They don't intend to let anyone get the upper hand on them.”

“But it doesn't make sense,” Todd countered. “If you just escaped, wouldn't you go someplace and lay low for a while? If I was them, I'd be halfway to Texas by now.”

“But you ain't them; that's the point.” Todd always figured that Quiet Jim's voice was too slow for daytime use, but it fit the darkness well. “They don't think like you and me, Todd. I reckon it's the devil's doin'. It's like their soul and mind's been bent, and it cain't be straightened. Take that Doc Kabyo, for instance. You remember how he called your daddy out to the plains when he done had all the cargo stolen? He held a gun on you and Robert just because he wanted to personally kill Brazos. Meanness, that's what it is. Inhuman meanness. Once they turn that way, there's nothin' that stops them short of a noose or a bullet. Or the judgment of God Almighty. It's like a rabid dog—there is nothin' you can do but put 'em down.”

“Well, before we decide to hang these two, we'd better find out who they are. Might be just a couple of drunks looking to wear off some whiskey.”

“If that's all they was, they should have stayed in the badlands where the pickin's easy.”

“When's the sheriff coming back?” Todd asked.

“I thought he'd be home tonight, but maybe he's on the trail to somethin'. You want me to come up and get Quint and Fern and take 'em home?” Quiet Jim asked.

“No, go on back with Columbia.”

“You sure you want to keep them up there tonight?”

“Go on,” Todd insisted. “It doesn't matter if they're at your house or my house. It's all family and you know it.”

“Yeah, that's the way I figure it, too,” Quiet Jim replied. “I just want to be careful not to impose on Rebekah. She's a delicate thing like my Columbia. You Fortunes, you're all tough as nails, and straight as Arapaho arrows. But them ladies from the East is a different breed.”

Todd hiked up a nearly deserted west end of Main Street. Quiet Jim's words bounced in his head.
Some of us are not nearly as tough as others. Two men shot at me, and I was so busy hiding I never got a shot off. Dacee June and Carty did better than that.
The lights from the badlands district glowed across Wall Street as he turned the corner. Someone laughed. Another shouted. A piano played. There was a moan from a losing poker hand and a shout from a winning one. The cool air drifted down Whitewood Gulch, bringing the drumbeat of the Homestake Mine stamp mills.

Just another night in Deadwood.

Maybe Rebekah's right.

Perhaps it is too-dangerous a place to raise children.

The seventy-two steps up to Williams Street were only seven inches high each. But this time each one seemed two-feet tall. Todd was puffing by the time he reached the top of the stairs and spotted a familiar silhouette that waited on the porch.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked.

Rebekah put her finger to her mouth. “Everyone's asleep inside.” Her small crocheted shawl dropped to the porch when she threw her arms around him. Her thick robe was buttoned to her neck.

He held her tight, but it was too dark to look into her eyes. “Everyone?”

“I put the kids to bed with me, and Dacee June took over when she came home. You and I are going to have to spend the night upstairs in one of the guest rooms.”

With his arms around her, he rubbed her back. “I suppose Dacee June filled you in on the shooting?”

“It sounded like an ambush, Todd.” She laid her head on his chest. “And it scares me to death.”

He rocked her back and forth and glanced out at a star-sprinkled night sky. “I'm not fond of it, myself.”

She stepped back, scooped up her shawl, then led him by the hand into the house. She snatched up the one burning lantern from the hall table. Todd put his shotgun back on the rack.

“Lock the front door,” she said.

“We don't need to . . .”

“Please!”

He shrugged and stepped back to the door, throwing the deadbolt. “Everything will be more relaxed come daylight.”

“I know . . .” She reached back and tugged his hand as she ­started up the narrow stairs.

Even though Todd stepped lightly, he heard the stairs squeak at each step. The air in the house was warmer as they reached the platform at the top of the stairs . . . and sweeter.

“Are you wearing that new perfume?” he asked.

“Yes. I was tired of smelling like boiled cabbage.” Her voice resounded like a musical whisper. “Do you mind?”

“Of course not. I would mind less, if I weren't so exhausted,” he mumbled.

They strolled into the smallest of the upstairs bedrooms at the back of the house. The old feather bed that had been Rebekah's as a young girl waited with sheets turned back and pillows fluffed. She set the lantern down, then lit a fat, round, cream-colored candle.

“Candlelight?” Todd teased.

“It's that vanilla candle that Thelma Speaker gave me for my birthday,” she said. “The air's kind of stale and musty up here. I think I'll leave the windows open tomorrow and air it out.”

Todd plopped down on the edge of the bed and held up a foot. Rebekah tugged off his boot. “I haven't been up here in months,” he admitted. “I thought it was still piled with your sewing projects.”

“It was. I cleaned it up a little.”

“Tonight?”

“Is that alright?”

“Sometimes I forget the two rooms we have up here.”

“It's a nice house, Todd.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Fortune. I enjoyed building it and wondering who it was the Lord would bring into my life to share it with. But all of this is the prelude. I'm waiting for the sermon.”

Rebekah began to unfasten a double row of buttons on her robe. “You mean about how incredibly dangerous Deadwood is, and how I was terrified beyond description tonight when I thought you could have been shot. And now I've decided that we have to pack up and move some other place, like maybe the north side of Chicago? You mean that kind of sermon?”

Todd stood frozen in place, his mouth dropped open. “Sort of . . . yeah.”

“Well, you're wrong, Mr. Fortune. I'm not even going to mention those things.”

“That's nice of you.” He slipped off his soiled and wrinkled white cotton shirt. “Is there anything else you
aren't
going to mention?”

She tossed her robe on a chair and brushed down the front of her long flannel nightshirt. Her unpinned light brown hair flowed down her back. “And I'm not going to mention a very important thought that came to me while I was lying in bed between Quintin and Little Fern wondering whether I was a widow or not.”

Todd tugged off his socks. “What was that?” He thought he could see her eyes flicker.

“I said, I'm not going to mention it.” Rebekah scooted under the covers.

His trousers neatly folded across the back of the chair, Todd stretched his arms and yawned. “Somehow I feel like I'm being left in the dark.”

“Don't worry,” she assured. “I'll leave the vanilla candle lit.”

He sat on the edge of the bed with his feet on the floor. “That's not what I meant, and you know it.”

“You were right. We can talk about all those things in the light of tomorrow. Would you please lock the bedroom door before you come to bed?”

He turned back and looked her in the eyes. “Aren't you letting your fears get carried away? We've got the outside doors latched, and there's no one in the house but Lil' Sis and two children. Just exactly who is it you intend to keep out of our room?”

“Lil' Sis and two children,” she grinned, then pulled the sheet up over her head.

“It was all a wild goose chase,” Seth Bullock reported the next morning as he stood by the stove at the back of Fortune's Hardware. “When I got to Terraville, nobody knew of anyone being shot. Said they thought there was a ruckus over at Cheyenne Crossing. But, when I got there, they reported the only excitement around there was a lot of commotion down at China Camp in Spearfish Canyon.”

“Did you ride on down there?” Todd asked.

“Yeah . . . and the strange thing is, they all left.”

“The Chinese?”

“Not a one of them left at China Camp. Packed up and gone.”

“Daddy always said there wasn't much gold over there,” Todd said.

“I rode half the night, then camped on the other side of Anchor. Half the time a sheriff's job is investigatin' things that don't happen.” Bullock finished his coffee and set the tin cup next to the row of others on the back shelf. “My word, it's a pitiful sight.”

“What's that?”

“Everyone's coffee cup lined up there and not one man sittin' around the stove,” the sheriff sighed.

“It does seem pleasantly peaceful, doesn't it?”

“Peaceful? It's downright boring,” the sheriff complained. “Think I'll wander down into the badlands and see if anyone knows something about those old boys who busted your window.”

“Quiet Jim thinks it might be those two stagecoach outlaws who escaped,” Todd offered.

“I reckon it could be. But no one's seen them in town. Still, they didn't seem smart enough to stay out of sight very long.”

“I don't hardly remember what they looked like. I didn't pay them much mind.”

The sheriff brushed back his long, curling gray mustache. “The blond one was bigger and taller, but it was the shorter, dark-haired one that did all the cussin' and threatenin'. They had the drop. I can't figure why they didn't put a bullet in you. Nothin' personal, but maybe they were lookin' for Brazos, since he's the one that shot their pard.”

“That's not really too reassuring.”

“Well, I hope your daddy and Yapper Jim stay away for a few more days. Might give me a chance to find where they're hidin' out.” Sheriff Seth Bullock moseyed toward the front door. “Until we find 'em, I'd pack a gun if I were you.”

Todd pulled open his suit coat to reveal a belt holster and a short-barreled .45 Schofield Smith and Wesson.

“That should do it. Let me know if you spot anything suspicious. I don't figure they'll show themselves in daylight. But I reckon you, me, and Quiet Jim ought to watch ourselves at night. We were all a part of bringin' 'em in.”