Beneath a Dakota Cross (19 page)

“It's goin' to happen, Big River.”

Big River finished his coffee but continued to hold the cup. “In the meantime, we keep making more money than we can spend. You don't reckon it's sinful, do you? I've been poor all my life, but happy. I always told myself rich people ain't happy. You suppose we'll lose our happiness over a few ounces of gold?”

“Big River,” Brazos laughed, “with any luck we'll both be broke by next summer.”

“Might be the best thing. I been thinkin' there's a lot more important things than gettin' rich. Don't that beat all? You and me's been tryin' to scratch out a livin' for years. Now we sit here on the verge of somethin' big, and I'm worried about it. You reckon we're scared of gettin' rich?”

“It can ruin a man, sure enough. But I figure as long as we have more important things in life than wealth, we'll probably do all right. Big River, you're gettin' mighty philosophical this early in the mornin',” Brazos said.

“Christmas Day kind of puts a man to meditatin'.”

Brazos nodded. “You know what I was thinkin' about when you came in?”

“Mincemeat pie?”

Brazos laughed. “Nope, but my-oh-my how my Sarah Ruth could make a mincemeat pie. She marinated that meat for several days, then she'd use butter, lard, and flour and whomp up the flakiest tender crust you ever tasted. She wouldn't tell nobody, but she'd put just a little taste of rum in there and then whip up some fresh cream. I'd tell her it's the sweetest thing I ever tasted in my life, and she'd say, ‘Why, Henry Fortune, you told me my lips were the sweetest thing you ever tasted!'” He stared across the store. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, then fingered the neatly trimmed beard on his chin. Finally, he mumbled, “I'll never taste those sweets again.”

“Now before you get mopin' too much, you need to count your blessin's,” Big River encouraged as he looked upstairs. “And you got a lot more to count than me. How's our Dacee June?”

“Sleepin'.”

Big River glanced down at the package near his feet. “Now, what was it you were ponderin' when I came through the door?”

“I was thinkin' about how we need a church in town.”

“We don't have a preacher.”

“I know, but it does seem strange to celebrate Christmas, and not have a church to go sing hymns in,” Brazos said.

“We could still sing hymns,” Big River Frank suggested. “I don't have many learned by rote, but I can hum along. Quiet Jim must know a hundred hymns, if we could get him to sing them out loud. Remember that time last October when we was sluicing out color left and right and we worked all day Sunday listenin' to Quiet Jim sing? That was the most peaceful worship I think I ever had.” Big River Frank looked away and brushed the corners of his eyes.

Brazos poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at the fireside end of a long, wooden bench. His clean, white shirt was buttoned at the wrists, his black silk tie tucked neatly into his wool vest. “You're right, Big River. We could sing. If the weather lets up at all, we'll let it be known up and down the gulch that we're singing hymns right here at the store tonight. Might be a few other men who would like to join in.”

“Plus a young lady and probably the March sisters.”

The door opened, and a man with a long, black overcoat entered. He closed the door quickly and tugged at black leather dress gloves. He hung his coat on a hook and strolled towards them. A small package wrapped in wrinkled, gold-colored paper was in his hand.

“Wheweee!” Big River hooted. “Would you look at that new Christmas suit! Don't he look swell today!”

Grass Edwards looked flushed. Brazos didn't know if it was from the compliment or the cold. “Merry Christmas, Brazos,” he offered. “I already greeted Big River when he was stompin' around our place awhile ago.”

“Merry Christmas, Grass,” Brazos replied.

“That Louise Driver is one good seamstress! Look at this.” Grass Edwards waltzed to the cast-iron stove and held out the hem of the jacket. “This is fine material imported from England. I tell you, boys, I've never had a custom suit before. I'm beginning to enjoy Deadwood more and more.” Grass grabbed a cup of coffee and plopped down on the bench next to Brazos. He set the package next to him. “Of course, I could enjoy it more if a certain individual wouldn't have back-stabbed me and gave away my sweet Jamie Sue. I ain't one to name names, but his initials are B. F.”

“I told you a hundred times, Grass, they rode off threatenin' to kill each other and came back all scrunched up together,” Brazos explained. “I don't know what happened. Prairie fever, maybe.”

“Fever in a snowstorm?”

“What can I say?”

Grass Edwards slapped Brazos on the back. “Shoot, it ain't a total loss. Me and Vince Milan is busy writin' our book on the flora and fauna of Dakota. He figures with my text and his illustrations it will be a classic. Can you imagine that? I can see it in the papers now: ‘Wealthy Dakota businessman and mine owner, Grass Edwards, has once again demonstrated his true genius in writing this here definitive work on plant life of the Black Hills.
'
”

Big River grumbled as he swished his coffee around in the thick, porcelain mug. “Ain't no one goin' to buy a book about weeds, no matter who wrote it.”

“Now there's a man with narrow vision. I believe he's the same man who wanted to sell those two Above Discovery lots for five thousand dollars. What was our latest offer?”

“Hearst said he'd give us twenty-five thousand dollars for them,” Brazos said. “'Course, by next summer they might not be worth a plug of tobacco.”

“If we got folks movin' in even durin' the winter, they're for sure goin' to move in come spring and summer,” Grass added. “And most figure all the claims will be gone in another month. That means they have to buy existing ones.”

Big River rolled his eyes. “We'll see . . .”

Yapper Jim burst through the door, waving his arms. “Hey, how about a little help with this,” he called out. “Me and Quiet Jim is about to break our backs!”

Brazos, Big River, and Grass scurried across the bare wooden floor of the hardware store. “What have you got in that big crate?” Brazos quizzed.

“Never you mind. We jist need a little hep, that's all,” Yapper Jim informed. “It ain't for you, so keep your shirt on.”

The heavy, wooden crate was four feet high, five feet wide, and two feet deep. A trail in the snow on the wooden sidewalk showed where it slid all the way up from the Double J Lumber Yard. They shoved it over to the center of the room. Quiet Jim laid a large, brown envelope on top of the crate.

Brazos scratched the back of his neck and circled the crate. “Is that the grindin' wheel I freighted in for you?”

“Grindin' wheel?” Yapper Jim hooted. “That's what we wanted you to think. That there is somethin' special.”

“All the way from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania,” Quiet Jim added.

“But you aren't goin' to tell me what it is?” Brazos insisted.

Yapper Jim tossed his arm around Brazos's shoulder. “Sorry, partner, it just ain't for you!”

Fortune surveyed the four men who migrated towards the woodstove and the coffeepot, each wearing new, Sunday-best outfits. “I figured you'd all be sleepin' in today. I can't believe all of you are up so early on Christmas.”

“And I cain't believe a certain young lady isn't stirrin' around at the break of day. Why, when I was a shirt-tail lad, we used to be up before light on Christmas,” Yapper Jim blurted out.

“That's who this crate is for,” Brazos triumphed. “It's for Dacee June. Well, she had quite an evenin' last night at the community dance. 'Course, she did say that most of the younger men were scared to death to talk to her, since you four threatened to hang any man that looked at her twice.”

“There ain't a boy in this camp good enough for her,” Yapper insisted. A chorus of “Amens” followed.

“She's only twelve,” Brazos laughed. “It's not like she's lookin' for a husband.”

“You cain't be too careful. My baby sister got married when she was fourteen,” Grass added.

Quiet Jim warmed his thin hands in front of him. “You don't reckon that your freight wagons will come in today, do you, Brazos?”

“I told the crew to lay over in Bismarck for Christmas. But I do feel funny not being with 'em. This is the first trip I haven't made myself. I hate sendin' them on a freezin', dangerous trip without me goin' along.”

“You've got to stay and run the store,” Grass reminded him.

“Store? Look at this place!” Brazos moaned. “Just a big room with no shelves or counters and crates and goods scattered all over the floor in no apparent order.”

“That's what's so great about it,” Big River explained. “It's comfortable and informal lookin'.”

Brazos glanced back at Quiet Jim. “You gettin' anxious for that steam mill?”

Quiet Jim flashed his shy, wide smile. “You boys know it's been my dream to own my own sawmill someday. I never thought I'd actually have the money to buy my own mill.”

“There's a lot of things happenin' for the first time in this town,” Grass exclaimed. “All five of us dressed up like bankers, for one.”

“Brazos and Dacee June have a hardware store on the side. The Jims got their lumber mill . . .” Big River shook his head. “Me and Grass been talkin' about buildin' a hotel.”

“You know anything about runnin' a hotel?” Yapper asked.

“We can hire someone who knows how to run a hotel. All we want is a good clean, dry room with a nice view of the gulch,” Grass Edwards whooped.

“I know where you can get a good deal on sawed boards,” Quiet Jim added. “I'd donate a few boards in trade for a good room with nobody snorin'.”

“I ain't never heard myself snore,” Yapper insisted.

A woman's voice startled all five men. “I do hope we aren't interrupting anything!”

Louise Driver and Thelma Speaker swished into the store. The men stood, each one removing his hat.

“Merry Christmas, gentlemen,” Thelma called out.

“Same to you, ma'am,” Quiet Jim offered. The others chorused their greetings.

Louise carried two large, flat, neatly wrapped boxes. “We don't want to disturb you. We'll just slip upstairs and visit with Dacee June.”

“Actually,” Big River Frank admitted, “we was all just sort of waitin' for Miss Dacee June to come down here.”

“Yes, I see. Why don't Thelma and I go up and help her get ready?”

“That would be quite nice,” Edwards nodded.

“It surely is a beautiful suit you sewed for Grass,” Brazos called out, as the ladies scurried to the stairway at the back of the store.

Louise Driver turned at the bottom of the stairs. Her straight, dark hair was neatly pinned up in her small felt and feathers hat. “Yes. Lawrence does look quite fetching in it.”

The two women scampered up the stairs.

“Lawrence?” Yapper Jim hooted. “Your Christian name is Lawrence?”

“Yeah,” Big River teased, “his real name is Lawrence Fetching!”

“Now, boys, I never figured you all would resort to this type of petty jealousy,” Grass said.

“You going to start courtin' a woman older than you?” Yapper pressed.

“Actually, Louise is only two years and forty-one days older.”

“I'm glad to see you're gettin' over you-know-who,” Brazos teased.

“I will live with the pain of your treachery, Fortune, until my dying day,” Grass insisted.

“We could speed that up, if you like,” Big River Frank suggested.

“Speed up what?”

“Your dyin' day.”

“Let him with a lady friend of his own cast the first stone,” Grass goaded. “Besides, a mature woman has a lot more skills than some young girl.”

“Oh?” Yapper Jim raised his thick, bushy eyebrows. “What kind of skills did you have in mind?”

“Cookin' for one. There ain't no one who can make better sausage gravy than Louise Driver.”

They had finished their second cups of coffee when the March sisters descended the stairs, followed by Dacee June Fortune. She wore a green-and-white silk dress and white lace-up boots.

A choir of “Merry Christmas, Miss Dacee June” greeted her.

She ran over to Big River, threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Big River Frank.”

Then she hugged and kissed the next man. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Edwards!”

Yapper Jim was next to receive a hug, a kiss, and a greeting.

Then it was Quiet Jim's turn. His face turned deep red, but he hugged her tight.

“We figured it was time for you to open presents,” Big River announced.

She held up her necklace. “Did you see the gold locket Daddy gave me? It has a picture inside of it of him and Mamma on their wedding day. He was quite handsome back then.”

“I wonder whatever happened to him,” Yapper teased.

Thelma Speaker tilted her chin higher. “Many discerning women consider him handsome still.”

The March sisters and the five men sat in a circle while Dacee June sat on top of the big crate to open her presents.

There was an ornate silver clock from Big River. A china rose vase from Grass Edwards. A throw quilt, a dress, and a hand-embroidered apron from the March sisters.

Quiet Jim wouldn't let her open the plain, big brown envelope until after she opened the large crate.

“It's so big!” Dacee June squealed. “I don't know how to open it.”

“I reckon your daddy has a crowbar around here,” Yapper instructed.

Brazos worked for a moment to pull the nails out of the top, then lifted the lid.

Dacee June yanked back a packing quilt and shouted, “It's . . . it's a pump organ. Daddy, look, it's my very own pump organ. It's what I always, always wanted!”