A Claim of Her Own (24 page)

As everyone looked on, Swede explained. “He vas cowering behind de chicken coop ven I vent to get de hens for Aunt Lou. No one seemed to know vere he vas coming from. He vas so tin and frightened,” she said. “Mr. Tallent said I vas crazy to take him along, but den on de vay here, he vas not so sure.” Swede chuckled. “De pup vas vit him for most of de last veek, and as you can see, he is not so tin now.”

“Doesn’t Mr. Tallent want him?” Freddie asked.

Swede shook her head. “I vas hoping, but he says no.” She sighed. “I don’t know vat kind of dog he vill be—other dan big, from de look of dose paws.”

The puppy cocked his head and sniffed the air. He gamboled over to Mattie, sniffed at her shoes, grabbed the hem of her skirt in his teeth, and gave it a tug, all the while wagging his tail so fast it was little more than a dark blur.

“He looks like the dog I carved,” Freddie said.

Mattie swallowed. “Yes. He does.” She glanced at Swede. “He’s a Newfoundland. He’ll be about so high,” she said, holding her hand out even with her waist. “And he’ll defend his owner—” her voice cracked—“with his life.” When she bent down and scooped him up, the pup licked her chin with enthusiasm before settling back with a contented sigh. Mattie looked at Swede. “I have plenty of credit on the books to pay whatever you want.”

“Vell,” Swede said. “For all my trouble, Eva is a bit afraid of him. And vit Freddie gallavanting all over da countryside hunting, he is hardly in a position—”

“Mattie should have him,” Freddie said.

Tom chimed in. “I’m not much of a dog lover.”

“It’s settled, den,” Swede said. “The dog is yours. For
friendship
, Mattie. Not for money.”

Clearing her throat, Mattie croaked her thanks. She pried opened her past just a bit. “Dillon had a dog like this. His name was Justice.”

“What happened to him?” Freddie asked. “Dillon didn’t have a dog here. Unless he ran off.”

Mattie shook her head. “No. Justice died a few years ago. Actually, someone shot him. Someone very evil.” She swallowed. “It’ll be nice having company up at the claim.” She kissed the dome of the puppy’s head and set him down. Instantly, he spread his legs and peed on the floor.

“Name him Whizzer,” Tom said, and everyone laughed.

A whining puppy lured Mattie outside her canvas home long before dawn the morning after Swede’s return to Deadwood, but she’d been awake since midnight thanks to the cannon the miners were firing to salute Independence Day. She’d lost count at about ten. According to the McKays, a hundred volleys were planned. Snuggled with her dog above her cache of gold, Mattie listened to the sound reverberate through the hills for quite a while, but when Justice began to squirm, she abandoned any hope of celebrating the holiday by sleeping late.

“Ow,” she said as she climbed out from beneath the covers. She looked down at Justice. “Apparently unloading wagons uses different muscles than prospecting.” She groaned as she got to her feet and tried to stretch. “In fact, apparently unloading wagons can pull just about every muscle a body has.” She lifted the tent flap and let Justice outside to do his business while she got dressed for town. As soon as she stepped outside, he came tearing back. Just the sight of him bounding over the rocks made her smile.

Fergus McKay hollered good morning and pointed at the dog. “Won’t y’ look at it, lass!”

Mattie scooped the pup up. “This is my new guard dog,” she said. “What do you think?”

Fergus yawned and scratched his backside. “Be the look of it he’s a bit young to be guardin’ the keep.” He glanced at Mattie’s campfire. “No biscuits today?”

“As many as you can eat—in town,” Mattie replied. “Today’s Garth and Company’s grand opening. I’m helping and they’re serving up roast pig and biscuits.”

“I’ll be doon directly,” McKay said, and stumbled back into his tent.

Justice sat just inside her closed tent flap while Mattie dressed and put up her hair. She reached for her bonnet, fingering the tattered ribbons used to tie it on. “I’m about due for a new one,” she said, and glanced over at Justice. “Think I can get a new bonnet without attracting too much attention from the kind of folks I don’t want wondering where I got the money?” When Justice tilted his head as if trying to understand her, she smiled. “It might not be wise to flaunt the success of Mattie’s Claim.” With a sigh, she put the old bonnet on and got up. “We’ll just make do, Justice.” The puppy yapped agreement and loped ahead of her as she descended into Deadwood dressed and decorated for the Fourth of July.

Today even the most wretched hovels had found a way to display red, white, and blue. Bunting draped the Grand Central Hotel sign. The owners of the Big Horn Store had erected a liberty pole and sent up an assortment of homemade flags. Mattie suspected the lace-edged banner painted with blue stars hanging outside the peanut vendor’s stall had begun life as a petticoat.

Justice had stayed close all the way down the gulch, but with the crush of people in town, Mattie worried he’d be stepped on or run over. Picking him up, she carried him with her to the hotel, where a crew of men had undertaken the prodigious task of leveling out the street with shovels in preparation for laying down a dance floor.

Deadwood would have its first official ball that evening. There were only a handful of women in town—Mattie, Aunt Lou, and Swede—unless she counted the sporting girls from the Badlands. She wondered if any of them would come to the ball.
That
would certainly make for an interesting dance. And then of course there was Calamity Jane, and there had to be a dressmaker or milliner, because, although Mattie had never met her, she’d seen a new sign on Main touting “the latest styles.” Working the claim prevented her knowing much about any new arrivals in town.

Aunt Lou exclaimed over the pup, “I do wish he was a cat, though. I declare, my pantry is just about overrun with mice.” Crossing to the stove she lifted a lid off a pot and fished out a huge bone. “Look what Aunt Lou’s got for you,” she said to Justice, who yapped and wagged his tail.

Mattie put puppy and bone together on the back stoop, then donned an apron and began to roll out dough and cut biscuits while Aunt Lou mixed a second batch. While they worked they chatted about the grand opening of Garth and Company Merchandise and the other festivities planned for the day ahead.

“The reverend and Tom got the pig to roasting right at dawn,” Aunt Lou said. “I stayed long enough to slop on some of my good sauce and left them to tend it. The reverend’s readin’ the Declaration later, and there’ll be lots of other speeches. Someone’s got up a petition to ask the government for protection from the Indians.”

“Tom English says that’s not likely to happen anytime soon,” Mattie replied. “Since we’re all lawbreakers and illegals anyway.”

Aunt Lou
hmphed
a response and pulled another pan of biscuits out of the oven. “There,” she said. “That’s two baskets ready to go on over to Swede’s. I need those baskets back, though. You tell Swede I’ll keep bakin’ until she says stop.” She pointed to the special edition of the
Pioneer
lying on her table. “Take that over, too. The ad is right there on the front page. Just like Mr. English wanted.” While Mattie got ready to leave, Aunt Lou said, “Things are gonna be crazy with that pup chasing around. You want me to keep him over here for the day? He seems happy with that bone.”

Mattie glanced outside. Justice had the bone between his forepaws and was contentedly gnawing away. “If he gives you one second of trouble, you send someone to tell me.”

“He’ll be all right,” Aunt Lou said. “I can tell he’s a good dog. Ain’t ya, boy?” At the sound of the word
dog
, Justice looked up. “Ain’t ya, boy?” Lou repeated. Justice yapped at her and wagged his tail. “See?” She bustled out of the kitchen into the small adjoining room that served as her living quarters. When she came back into the kitchen, she had a raggedy comforter in hand that she tossed on the floor and tucked beneath her table. “He can sleep right there. Don’t you worry a thing about him.”

Mattie grabbed the paper and the two baskets of biscuits and headed for the store. When Justice moved to follow her, Aunt Lou grabbed the bone. “Now, you stay here with Aunt Lou. Mattie’ll be back directly.” The pup hesitated, looking up at Mattie.

“Go on,” Mattie said, and Justice bounded into the kitchen.

Garth and Company Merchandise was decked out for the holiday with an American flag just to the right of the front door and a banner to the left announcing a
PIG ROAST
and other
GRAND
OPENING SPECIALS,
among them
a selection of the finest calico
at only ten cents a yard.

Mattie caught up with Tom English just inside and held out the newspaper. “The ad looks wonderful,” she said. “It’s right where you wanted it. Bottom right corner of the front page. Aunt Lou says hello and she’ll keep baking biscuits until you tell her to stop.” She set the two baskets on the counter. “And she needs the baskets back.” Mattie pulled out the plank of wood they would be using as a serving tray and pointed to the bolts of calico. “All right with you if I cut off a length of fabric to cover the tray? Might be a good way to advertise it.” Tom nodded and Mattie went to work while he glanced over the paper.

When Swede came downstairs Tom held the paper up for her to see. “You should be proud,” he said. “You’ve done it.”

“I am proud.” Swede smiled at Tom. “Proud and tankful. None of it vould be vitout your help, Mr. English.”

“Acknowledged and appreciated, Mrs. Jannike.”

Swede blushed.

He read aloud, “Claims in the area are yielding a thousand dollars a day. The famous Number 2 owned by W. P. Wheeler and Company has run two sets of sluice boxes and taken out about $43,000. Bobtail picked up a nugget at the end of a day’s run last week that was worth $44.50.” He glanced up. “Not to make you jealous or anything,” he said to Mattie. “Your claim’s doing real well.”

You have no idea
. Mattie shrugged. “Well enough,” she said, and headed off to return Aunt Lou’s baskets and to check on Justice. On her way back to the store, she lingered in front of the dressmaker’s window, smiling to herself at the strangeness of such a business even existing in Deadwood. The display contained a number of creations obviously intended for the girls who lived at the opposite end of Main Street, but there was a smart lavender bonnet with blue trim that Mattie loved. A hat like that would turn heads all the way from here to Bobtail. She stepped away. What was she thinking? She shouldn’t be turning heads in Deadwood. She needed to hunker down, pan for gold, and leave before word spread that Matt the Miner had struck it rich.

Just as she was about to cross the street and head for the store, the door to the dress shop opened and two women stepped out calling after her. “Saw you admiring my bonnet,” one said, and turned to the other. “I told you the trim was a good idea.” She extended a hand and smiled. “Lyra Berg,” she said. “And this,” she nodded at her twin, “is my sister Vina.”

“Hmph,” Vina said. “It wasn’t that little purple thing at all. It was my creation.” She squinted at Mattie. “Wasn’t it? You’ll be a veritable Lady Liberty.” She pointed at another hat in the window, an amazing platter of red, white, and blue ribbon and feathers worthy of the Badlands if ever a hat was. The very thought made Mattie so uncomfortable she could feel herself blushing.