The Outlaw's Kiss (an Old West Romance) (Wild West Brides) (5 page)

I’d never felt such a swoon. He kissed my hand two
times, as gingerly as anything. “Mr. Masterson,” I said taking a breath. “I –
thank you for all your help. For everything.” I had to look away to keep myself
from turning completely red.

He placed one more kiss on the back of my hand
though he let his warm lips linger for a moment before looking up. “Don’t go
forgetting about me while I’m gone, you hear?” His smile warmed me through.
“I’ll let the sheriff know you two are in town if I see him. He’s a good man,
one I’m proud to call a friend. He’ll take care of you. Tell your father good
bye for me.”

I couldn’t respond, instead just watching him trot
back to the wagon and hop up to the driver’s bench. I waved, trying my best to
keep composed. “Come back soon!”

“Will do, ma’am,” Eli replied. He lifted his hat
and gave me one of his nods. With that, he was gone.

Settling in didn’t take long, and neither did a
quick wash-up before bed. As night settled in shortly after Eli departed, I sat
on the porch with a cup of water as father sipped a measure of spirits. That
night’s stars were as beautiful as any I’d seen since leaving Yankton. But
knowing that soon, Eli would be looking at the very same ones, and maybe
thinking of me, made the ache in my heart quiet for a time.

September 8, 1878

Deadwood, Dakota Territory

––––––––

A
loud knock shook me awake. I rolled over, and
went to the window. My second floor room overlooked the dirt path which doubled
as the street to town, so from it I was able to see most everything, which
included the porch.

The sun was bright and low in the sky, as it had
risen not a quarter-hour before. Downstairs, Father was clomping about in the
boots he’d bought, but never worn. The jangle of spurs sounded right after his
heels hitting the floorboards. He went all the way to the door, grumbling. I
giggled as he went back the other way.

I knew he probably wanted coffee and some
breakfast, though he was far too kind to wake me. Hunting through my wardrobes,
I found a nice pastel-blue dress that I’d not worn in some time, along with a
pair of soft boots that I just loved. Along with a matching bonnet to keep out
the sun, I found myself perfectly presentable. I chose a modestly embroidered
clutch – nothing too ostentatious. Along with all the mostly-nice furniture
that the previous occupants had left in the house, a number of quite fancy
mirrors still adorned the walls, one of which I used to check my buttons and
ties.

“Oh, Clara! I’m so glad you’re up. I, uh, I
thought you’d like to accompany me to town. We can go by the camp store and get
the things I’ll need to work the claim.”

I was glad to see his pride wasn’t still deflated
from dealing with Mr. Swearengen the day before.

“That’d be just fine,” I said. “But don’t you want
some food first?”

He began walking back and forth again. “That’s
another thing. I thought we could go into town for that, too. Alongside Mr.
Swearengen’s saloon is an inn that apparently has a buffet-style breakfast Eli
recommended. I don’t want you to have to go to cooking the first day we’re here.”

“I don’t mind, really.” Though truly, the idea of
eating in town was a relief.

He shook his head. “No, no. I insist. This is the
best way. I don’t want to wait a moment longer than I must to get to the claim.
There’s gold up there, I just know it. But before I can get it dug up, I need
to find it. Are you ready to go?”

*

T
he path between our house and the center of the
camp-turned-town took about twenty minutes to walk. Noise and activity was
already beginning; miners and prospectors gathering their day’s equipment was
the most common sight, though as we ate, a number of men who looked down on
their luck stumbled through the front doors of the inn and to rooms.

“Comin’ from the Gem,” someone behind us said in a
surprisingly chipper voice. “Play poker and drink all night, then they sleep
all day. Terrible waste of a life, but that’s what they do. Small claimers.
They find enough gold to pay for their vices, and that’s what they worry
about.”

Father turned and I looked past his shoulder to a
slight man wearing a brown suit and a bowler seated just behind him.

“Oh my apologies. Spend enough time in one of
these camps and your manners will turn every way but better. I’m Sol Star, my
partner, who moonlights as the camp sheriff, and I run the sundries shop across
the way. Haven’t seen you around here before.” He stood and clasped my father’s
hand, then turned to me. “And certainly haven’t seen you. A pleasure, ma’am.” Sol
said, tipping his hat.

“Oh yes, of course, I’m Jefferson James and this is
my daughter Clara. We were told about you and your shop. Our, uh, the man who
brought us here recommended your wares.”

Mr. Star grinned widely. I liked him already. “Is
that so? To whom do I owe the pleasure of a reference?”

“Eli Masterson,” I said. The words shot out of my
mouth in a single syllable. Both men turned just as my cheeks started burning.
“Sorry for interrupting.” I looked at the table, though I couldn’t help but
smile just saying his name.

“Oh, Eli! Certainly, he’s a good friend. Does more
than most people for this town and barely says a word to anyone about it. If it
weren’t for him, I’m almost sure the Sioux would have burned this place to the
ground by now. Well, him and Al. And I can tell by the sour face you’re making
that you’ve met the town boss, hmm? Less said the better.”

The cadence of Mr. Star’s voice was mesmerizing. His
up-and-down, quicker-then-slower speaking reminded me of the way rain falls.

“Well I can see you folks have some food to
finish. If you’re needing anything, come across the street when you finish.
We’ve got everything from camp latrines to daily ice delivery during the cooler
months, which if you can believe it, September is one of.” He pantomimed the
wiping of sweat from his head.

“Thank you,” Father said. “We actually were
planning to visit you anyway as soon as we were finished, so I’ll look forward
to seeing you then.”

Mr. Star stood and nodded politely, then left us
alone. The inn, actually, was quite empty aside from the late-rising
prospectors and the inebriated. It was a dusty place, but to me there were
stories here. I spent most of the time Father ate just looking around. Above
the over-large stairwell was a longhorn’s skull, and the dining room was marked
with a number of plaques declaring that Bill Hickok did such-and-such here and
such-and-such there. Or that Calamity Jane got into a fight with the mail
carrier by the doorway.

“I’ll not be offended if you write,” father said.
“I can see the look in your eyes, dear. I know you quite well, after all.”

“This place is just so
fascinating
, isn’t it?”
I sat up straighter on the edge of my seat. “There’s so much history here, to
me, it seems that all the wildness of the western frontier has come through
here at one point or another.”

Father just smiled and chewed his bacon. He nodded
at me in a ‘
just go on
’ sort of way. For the next few minutes, until he
was finished, I furiously scribbled every detail of the place. The longhorn
skull, the way the inn keeper seemed to habitually repeat the last word of each
sentence, a count of the slovenly men who stumbled through the common area –
anything I could think to write, I wrote. It’s compunction, really, and serves
no purpose except to keep my hands and my mind busy while idle. I’d never do
such a thing in the company of anyone excepting my father, but he had grown
used to it over the years.

“What do you think of that Star fellow?”

“Hmm?” I looked up, surprised. “Mr. Star? He seems
nice enough. I like the way he speaks.”

That got a smile from Father. “I noticed how you
were quick to point out Eli’s recommendation. He’s a fine man, Eli. But I don’t
want you catching a flight of fancy that ends up hurting you. After all, we’re
only going to be here for six months or so, maybe less if everything goes smoothly
and the mine gets up and running.”

I was mortified. “But no, that’s not it, I was
grateful to him. That’s all.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass
you. I just don’t want to see you get hurt. It’s not my business though. You’re
a strong woman. I shouldn’t pry into your life like that. We need to be going.”
He stood and extended his hand. “Ready, partner?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. I’m lucky to have him
instead of someone else. I’ve always known that, but never more than when I
passed the age where all of my friends had been pushed off to some advantageous
husband, or married to a family their fathers thought would benefit their
business. But for whatever reason – either because he thought me capable of
making my own decisions, or because he simply didn’t want to deal with it, my
heart was my own business.

*

“C
ould you
please
calm down, Mr. Rawls?”
Sol Star’s voice was quite a bit less melodious than it had been when we spoke
at breakfast as it came out of his shop’s swinging door. “There’s no reason for
this sort of behavior. We’re both adults. If you bought a chisel, and the
chisel broke, I’d give you another one. But my books show you’ve never bought a
chisel, and you aren’t presenting me with a broken one at the present time, so
why would I think anything of your complaint but that you’re trying to get over
on me?”

Standing in the entrance, Mr. Star’s customer
seemed to be more bull than man. He stood with his shoulders pinched up near
his ears, and his growling was audible from across the store. “Now you listen
here, Star, I said I bought a chisel and it broke. Give me my
two damned
dollars!
”

“I will not, Mr. Rawls, and furthermore, I want
you to leave right now before this turns into much more than you mean it to. My
partner will be back momentarily and I’d rather you walk out of here a free man
instead of in shackles.”

The man growled loudly and slammed his meaty fists
on Mr. Star’s countertop so hard the ledger book bounced. “You haven’t heard
the last of me, Star!” He turned and stomped out the door, pushing between father
and me on his way.

“I’m sure I haven’t, no matter how badly I wish
that weren’t true.” He shook his head, and then almost immediately became a
different person. “I’m much happier to see you folks. Just starting out on your
claim? We’ve got a tool package that will take care of you. But first I need to
know a few things so I can figure on what you need, exactly.”

My father hitched his thumb in his vest pocket.
“Of course, ask away!”

“Well, is this a small claim or a large one? Will
you be testing the soil – that is, looking for ore in the ground – or will you
be panning? What sort of gold weight are you expecting and –”

Father put his hands up. “I’m almost ashamed to
admit this, but I haven’t a clue. I know about as much about gold as you do
about the mail system.”

Mr. Star’s eyebrows shot up. “Actually, I’m the
town postmaster.”

“Well in that case, I’ll stop trying to make
analogies for fear of coming up with what I think to be a clever one that
coughs soot in my face. What I mean is I know next to nothing about this
business. I was hoping that I’d be able to hire someone to give me an
introduction. I could make it worth your while if you were free?”

Mr. Star smiled. “Truth be told, after that run-in
with Eustace, I’d be happy to get some air for a time. No charge necessary. Has
your claim been reconnoitered?”

“I don’t even know the meaning of the word. The
man who sold it to me said that it’d be reconnoitered by George Hearst. But I’d
be much obliged if you’d show me. Are you sure you don’t want me to pay you?
For your troubles, I mean. I’m afraid you’ll lose business.”

“I insist. If salesmen are to be believed,
every
claim was reconnoitered by Hearst. Business is slow during the day anyhow.
Everyone with an eye to being useful is already out in the hills. Everyone with
an eye to sloth and vice is presently sleeping off their drink. If you’ll give
me a few moments, I’ll head to the courthouse and find my partner to watch the
–”

A great crash from outside and then a heavy thud
against the walls preceded a man shouting. “Eustace! How many times have I told
you to keep your bullshit complaints about equipment you never bought to
yourself? I don’t care
what
Sol said to you, you’re lucky it wasn’t me
you tried to warble at! I’d send you straight through the window to say no
instead of weathering your endless abuse!”

“Well,” Mr. Star said, “I suppose I won’t need to
go looking.”

Tall and clad in a black suit with a black hat,
someone who could only have been Seth Bullock strode into the store. “I’m
taking Mr. Rawls to jail, unless for some reason you want him released. I have
a mind to leave him there until he dies, but I think instead I’ll just let him
sleep off the drinking he’s done.”

“Seth,” Mr. Star trailed off. He winked in our
direction. “Customers?”

“Of course. Sir,” he said. “Ma’am. Pleased to meet
you. Sol? You want this wretch in jail or not?”

“I think a little rest would do him good.” Sol
smiled as he spoke. “But then could you watch the store for a time? Mr. James
here is new to prospecting, he’s just bought a claim and-”

“Yes.” He twisted Eustace Rawls’s arm around
behind his back and shackled his hands. “If you’ll pardon me ma’am, I’m usually
not so gruff.” He turned and left, with Rawls making quite a racket.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s always that gruff. In
fairness, he usually he only gets irritated when someone like that fellow makes
him so.”

“Who was that?” My father asked. “Not the sheriff,
the under-turned man with the foul temper?”