Agnes and the Renegade (Men of Defiance) (26 page)

“Do we know what gallery she was doing that show at?” Logan asked, looking at his wife and Chayton.
 

“She never said.”

“I will go after her.” Chayton took a step toward the parlor entrance.

“Hold on there.” The sheriff stopped him, interjecting some logic. “An Indian alone in Denver is likely to get shot. That town’ll make the Defiance folks seem downright friendly if you’re by yourself.”

“He’s right,” Logan told him. “I’ll go with you.”

“We will leave now.”

“No. The train to Denver doesn’t leave until 5:00 p.m. tomorrow,” Logan said. “There will be plenty of time to make it. We’ll get a good night’s sleep, then head down to Defiance in the morning. Even if you left now for Denver, you wouldn’t get there before the train. We’ll ride down in the morning with the sheriff.”

When it was time to leave the next morning, Chayton was stunned to see the entourage that had assembled. Apparently, Logan had told the Shoshone about the trip, and when the Shoshone told his wife about it, she wanted to join them, which meant bringing their three boys. Mrs. Burkholder was making the return trip to Defiance with them. Sarah and White Bird were going to ride with her in the carriage. Her guard was missing, but she’d explained to them yesterday that she’d sent him to accompany Aggie down to her studio in Denver. And then there was the sheriff and deputy bringing up the tail, driving the wagon with the dead outlaws.
 

Chayton glared at the Shoshone, who only laughed. “Don’t look at me, Lakota. Your woman’s already got you chasing your tail—she’s why we’re all here.”

Chayton made a face and looked away. Logan clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. Even with such a large group, we’ll get to town in plenty of time to make the train.”

The day inched along at a snail’s pace. They stopped three times: once for lunch and twice to rest the horses. When they reached town, Chayton’s mood had not improved. Though he rode sandwiched between the sheriff and Logan at the front of the line, he watched the townspeople anxiously. Their reception of him was never kind, and he didn’t expect today to be any different.

Sager and Mrs. Burkholder’s driver dropped the women and children off at Maddy’s Boardinghouse to freshen up and await the 5:00 p.m. train. Chayton watched the crowd thicken as he, Logan, and the sheriff dismounted outside the sheriff’s office.
 

“Finally caught him, did ya, sheriff?” one of the men shouted out. Others gathered to see what the excitement was about.

“Thought you’d bring him in dead,” another shouted.

Sheriff Declan held up his hands and faced the crowd. “That’s enough, Mitt, Buckly.” He climbed up the front steps to the boardwalk so that he could stand above them. “Chayton here single-handedly took down Skinner’s gang of bank robbers and recovered the stolen cash. The Western Bank and Loan Company sees him as a hero.” He looked around at the grumbling men, who were disappointed there’d be no fight today. “And I do, too. If any of you start a fight with him today, you’ll be cooling your heels in jail overnight.”

There were some jokes about how tearing an Indian apart would be worth any time in jail. Two men Chayton didn’t know looked at each other and pushed forward. Chayton couldn’t believe their foolishness in challenging the sheriff right in front of his jail. His eyes narrowed as he watched the men approach the boardwalk. One was a tall man, probably half a hand taller than Logan. The other was about the same size and height, but had the cool blue gaze of a white-eyes killer—and a pair of Colts hanging off his waist.
 

The Shoshone jogged over from the livery and pushed his way through the crowd, following the two men. Chayton sent a look to Logan; his friend was watching the approaching men with a tense face. The Shoshone cut the other two off at the stairs, but instead of blocking them, he moved to stand in front of Chayton on the boardwalk.
 

“Any of you got a problem with Chayton, then you got a problem with me,” he said, glaring out at the crowd.

The tall man walked up to the boardwalk and stood next to the Shoshone. “You men know who I am. I brought the railroad spur to town and I made damn sure you were charged fair prices to move your cattle and feed to the Denver stockyards. Chayton’s a friend of mine. You know I take care of my friends—and my enemies.”

Chayton could barely see around the big guy to watch the man with the Colts join them on the boardwalk. He said nothing, just spread his arms and let his hands hang over his guns as he faced the crowd.

Logan clapped a hand on Chayton’s shoulder. “My friend, Chayton, is Lakota, but his fight with our people is over. It’s done.”

One of the men in the crowd spat a brown stream into the dirt road. “It ain’t never gonna be over. What his kind did to my sister’s family can’t be undone.” He pointed to Chayton. “I will know him and hate him all the days of my life. And if he thinks he can hang out here like any one of us, well, I won’t cry if he mysteriously meets his end one night.”

“A murderer is a murderer, Mitt,” the sheriff said, answering the man’s not-so-veiled threat, “whether he kills a white man, a Chinaman, a black man, or an Indian. I never cry when I see a murderer hang.”

“I don’t got a problem with him, long as he knows his place.” The man spat again and walked off. His departure deflated the crowd. People began to thin out. Sheriff Declan came over to Chayton and held his hand out.

“Thanks for bringing down the Skinner gang. I’ll get the paperwork started for your reward. When it’s here, I’ll send word to Logan.” Chayton nodded at him. The sheriff went inside his office, leaving two of his deputies to keep the peace out front.

Chayton looked at Logan’s brother and friends. The Shoshone shook hands with the tall man and the silent gunslinger. “What are you two doing here?” he asked.

The tall man glared back at Logan’s brother. “Audrey got wind of the fact that Sarah and Rachel were going to Denver. She decided to let Leah know about it and make a summer party of it.”

Logan laughed. “The kids with you?”
 

“Well, it wouldn’t be a party without them. They’re all down at Maddie’s.”

Logan shook hands with both men. “Thanks. I appreciate your help.” He looked at Chayton. “These are my friends.” He nodded toward the tall man. “Julian McCaid and Jace Gage.” Chayton eyed them, then offered his hand. “You’ve probably seen each other around town,” Logan continued. “Julian’s only here in the summer and Jace runs the lumber mill outside of town.”

 
“My railroad car’s here,” Julian told them. “We can head down to the station whenever you’re ready—let’s go get the ladies.” He looked at Chayton. “Once we’re settled, you can catch us up on what the hell’s going on.”

“Shoshone.” Chayton stopped Logan’s brother before he moved down the steps with the others. “Thank you.”

Sager stared at him a long minute. “We’re not enemies, you and I. I’ve been where you are. I know what it’s like to lose your people and your family, and I know what it’s like to move into white society. You aren’t alone, Chayton. You have a new people and a new family.” He held out his hand and took hold of Chayton’s forearm. “You are a brother to my brother. That makes you a brother to me.” He stared into Chayton’s eyes. “I’m called ‘Sager.’”

Chayton gripped Sager’s forearm. “I am glad for your friendship. Sager.”
 

They started down the steps to the street as a crowd of a different sort approached them. The men’s wives were joining them, along with what seemed to be at least a couple dozen children. Chayton closed his eyes and let himself listen to the noise of their excited voices, the women laughing and chatting, the children chasing each other and teasing. It filled his heart with joy. For a painfully brief moment, he almost felt as if he had returned to his village from a lengthy absence.

Logan introduced him to Audrey, Julian’s wife. She tried to point out the children that were hers, but there were so many of them that he couldn’t keep them straight. He met Jace’s wife, Leah, and their three kids.
 

Seeing the happiness on their faces made his heart ache for Agkhee. She would be both overwhelmed by the group and fascinated by it. His own daughter was no stranger to the other children. They accepted her among them as if she was but another beloved cousin and friend. Sarah looked over at him and caught him watching his daughter. She smiled at him, but there was a shadow in her eyes. He wondered if she regretted having only the one child to look after. She’d been a good mother to his daughter. It was a good choice he’d made.

He moved with the large gathering of Logan’s friends and their families, walking with the men in the back of the group as Julian’s wife, Audrey, led them to their private railroad car. His grandmother looked over her shoulder at him, glanced at the other men, then fell back and drew him aside with a hand on his forearm. For a minute she didn’t speak, only watched him as if she was searching for the right words. Such caution was commendable. Words had power and should be used only with intent. He waited patiently for what she would say.
 

Before she could speak, a couple of men from the original group came forward. “Who said you could talk to anyone, Injun? Do your business and move on.” He looked at Chayton’s grandmother. “He bothering you, ma’am?”

Impossible, but Chayton could have sworn the old woman grew taller as she turned to face the men. “My good fellow, this young man is my grandson. I will thank you to leave us be.” Logan and Sager joined their small group, eyeing the men.
 

“He’s a half-breed?” The man huffed a short laugh. “How ’bout that, Buckly? The white in ’im might keep ’im from scalping us in our sleep.”
 

Chayton ground his teeth. The men nodded at his grandmother then moved along.
 

“Why do these people hate you so?” she asked.

Chayton studied his grandmother, wondering at the source of that question. He understood she lived in the area white men called Colorado, near the South Platte River, in a town called Denver. He’d been down there when he was boy, before it was so overrun with white men. How could she live there and be ignorant of the conflict that had caused such harm to his people? “These people, and mine, have been at war for years. I am their enemy.”

“Are you? Have you harmed them?”

Chayton calmed his tongue. If it would free his people, he’d kill every last one of them. His grandmother included. But white men were pouring out of a hole in the ground like a hatched nest of spiders, filling the land from sunrise to sunset, as Logan had once told him. He could kill and kill and kill, and still they spread where they wanted, infecting the land that was so sacred to his people. He looked at his friend and his friend’s brother. They awaited his answer, watching him.
 

Agkhee was white. She was as precious to him as Logan’s friends’ wives were to their men. The hatred in his heart would end them, as it would destroy all white men, if he gave it life. Hatred was no man’s friend. Having nothing more to say to his grandmother, he walked away. His mother would have scolded him for riding a dark horse. And he was. On a dark horse in a dark world. Agkhee was his only light. Where had she gone? She was a turtle out in the world without her shell.
 

He ached to find her.

The group walked down to the train station. There was a great gathering of Logan’s tribe on the platform, clustered in two groups. One of Logan’s immediate family, friends, and children, the other of trunks and luggage and uniformed people, men and women. Their features indicated they were mostly Hispanic. He wondered if whites took captives, too. Or had those people joined the fringes of Logan’s tribe voluntarily? There was little he truly knew about Logan’s way of life. The times they’d been together in years past, when they’d journeyed across the land alone or he’d visited Chayton’s village, they’d talked much about Chayton’s way of life and little about Logan’s.

Chayton turned away from the noisy crowd and looked at the tracks. They ran parallel to the evening sun’s rays, as far as the eye could see across the hilly terrain. Telegraph poles stood guard over the steel road. Logan said messages could be communicated through the wires that touched the pole. How that was possible Chayton didn’t understand. He remembered when the tracks were being laid. Warriors he’d trained horses for had fought the relentless progress, foolishly thinking the white incursion could be ended.
 

Logan came to him, clapped a hand on his shoulder, and watched him with caring eyes. For a moment, neither of them spoke. “Life’s about to get weird for you.”

Chayton had no words to express the truth of that great understatement. “My wife went alone into this world.”

“Aggie is from this world. It makes more sense to her than yours. You won’t be alone in this, Chayton. Sager and I will be with you; we know both worlds.” He nodded toward the big guy and the one with ice for eyes. “My friends will guard your back. We’ll find Aggie and bring her home.”

Chayton felt like vomiting. He had no home to bring his wife to. He was not a fit husband.

A deep, rumbling vibration disturbed the air and shook the ground. Logan’s people looked excitedly down the track. Chayton glanced in the direction they did. Far down the track, a great, black iron beast came toward them, steam spewing from its head. Chayton kept his expression blank as the train rolled into the station. It went past them for a short distance to hook up with a special car sitting on a separate track. When it pulled forward and stopped, everyone knew what to do, where to go, except him. The women herded the children into a different car in front of an ornately painted one. It had more windows than the ornate one. Logan’s people standing with the luggage entered the same car and quickly loaded it up.
 

Chayton followed Logan into the long, ornate car. Inside, the space was a narrow room that looked like it could have been taken from Logan’s house. The floor was carpeted in a golden color. The walls were papered with flocked green paper. The ceiling had green and gold striped paper. Several arrangements of clustered chairs and chairs around tables filled the room. At the far end of the car was a large window that looked out onto the tracks. Several lights were affixed to the narrow panels of wall between windows. Heavy, bunched fabric hung above the windows. In the middle of the car was an iron stove that was cold on this hot summer evening.