Beneath a Dakota Cross (2 page)

“He's got a partner named Hook Reed. He knows minin' claims like the back of his hand.”

“Minin' claims? Why do we need to know that? I'm lookin' for a ranch, not minerals.”

“Unless you inherited a bonanza I don't know about, we need capital,” Big River reminded him. “If we're goin' to buy a place up north, we need money. We aren't going to make a dime of profit drivin' cattle for someone else. So I figured we'd find ourselves a gold claim and build up a little stake.”

Brazos rubbed the sweat and grime off the back of his neck. “Where we goin' to find gold? Every square inch of the West has been picked through.”

“Not every place. This guy Hook Reed knows a man who was with General Custer last year in the Black Hills of Dakota. Said there was gold in the streams just waitin' to be shoveled up and dumped into sacks.”

“Nothin' is that easy.”

“Maybe not, but this man, Hook Reed, has a map of the area and a gold strike marked right on it. It's a sure thing.”

“Where'd he get such a map?”

“Won it in a poker game down in Tucson.”

Brazos rubbed his eyes, then stared across the light green hills. “I read in the newspaper that Custer said there wasn't much gold in the Black Hills.”

“What does the army know about prospectin'?”

“Well, if you and I know about it, so do others. There won't be any left on the ground when we get there.”

“That's not true. Them hills is off-limits. It's Sioux land. Most men are afraid to ride in there for fear of gettin' scalped.”

Brazos glanced down and could see worry in Dacee June's eyes. “And just how are we goin' to manage?” he probed.

“Old Hook's map shows a secret trail to get in followin' draws and gulches without giving away our position.”

“I'm not really lookin' for a gold mine. I want a ranch,” Brazos reiterated.

“Well, there ain't no one in the world that is going to hand us one. We have to buy it, and we need money for that. So unless you plan on robbin' banks, stages, or trains, we're going to need a stake.”

“No bank robbin' for me . . . one Fortune in that business is one too many.”

“Is Sam still on the run up in Indian Territory?”

“If he hasn't got himself killed.” Brazos glanced down at Dacee June's wide eyes. “I didn't mean that, darlin'. Your brother is too good with a gun to get himself killed.”

Big River Frank yanked his pant leg up over his boot and scratched. “Are your other boys goin' with us?”

“Not this trip. Todd's drivin' cattle up to Dodge City for Ol' Bill Wilson, and Robert is still in the cavalry, stationed at Fort Abraham Lincoln.”

“Where's that?”

“In Dakota Territory, up on the Missouri River.”

“Well, that settles it. We'll look for gold, and you can visit your boy. That sounds like a nice summer.”

“Daddy needs to find us a home!” Dacee June insisted. “He promised me that.”

Big River Frank stared at her as he rode beside the wagon. “You're right, li'l darlin'. Did you ever know your daddy to break a promise?”

“Uh, no . . . not really.”

“Neither have I. Him and me is from the old school. If we tell you we're goin' north to find you a home, jist as sure as the sun sets in El Paso, you're goin' to have a new home.”

“Daddy's looking for a ranch under a big cross.”

“Well, how do we know it's not in the Black Hills?” Big River insisted. “Grass and Hook will join us in Fort Worth, Brazos. They said we can pick up some minin' gear in Denver or Cheyenne City.”

“I didn't say I was goin' prospectin'.”

“I know,” Big River pushed his pant leg down, then picked his teeth with his fingernail. “But, jist in case we decide to get rich, we'll be ready.”

The home of Dr. and Mrs. Milton Ferrar was the largest one on the confluence of Rio Bosque, three miles northwest of Waco. The upstairs, alone, contained eight bedrooms. Most times, all the rooms were filled.

Besides raising nine children of their own, numerous relatives, guests, and occasional strangers stayed the night at the Ferrar place. Brazos figured his sister-in-law, Barbara, just might be the hardest-working woman in Texas.

He knew, for sure, she was the most organized and gracious.

Barbara did not follow the rules of Texas society. She made the rules. In the Ferrar household, children ate first, not last, leaving the adults a more leisurely meal. And Barbara insisted that the men could not excuse themselves to the parlor after supper, but must remain in the dining room and visit with the ladies as well as each other.

She preferred that the men wore suits and ties at the evening meal. However, her sister's husband, Brazos Fortune, looked so ill at ease in a suit, she allowed him to have supper wearing a vest instead of a jacket.

And a tie.

Big River Frank left for Fort Worth after a quick cup of coffee, and Dr. Ferrar was still in town. The kids laughed and shouted in the yard. That left Brazos alone in the dining room with his sister-in-law. Four kerosene lanterns flickered above the table as Brazos studied the china and silver.

Barbara Ferrar buzzed out the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the dining room. She carried linen napkins and silver napkin holders.

“You're makin' a lot of fuss tonight for the likes of me,” Brazos complained.

His sister-in-law was the only person, other than his wife, who ever called him by his Christian name. “Henry Fortune, you listen to me.” Her long skirt rustled, and he smelled sweet rose perfume as she sashayed around the long room. “You are leaving the sweetest daughter on the face of the earth to go off, Lord knows where, and have no idea when you will return—if you do at all. You will probably eat undercooked food out of poorly washed tin plates, if you eat off a plate at all. We are certainly going to use the best china!”

Though she was ten years his junior, he felt properly scolded. “Yes, ma'am,” he replied. “But I am comin' back for Dacee June. Soon as I get us a place up north. It will probably be in September, but I didn't tell her that. Don't want to make a promise I might not be able to keep.”

“I can't understand why anyone would want to leave Texas. Milton says you should take them to court to get the ranch back. They have no legal right to do what they've done.”

“No local judge is going to help me, and it would take years to get it to an appeals court. By then Dacee June would be a grown woman, and the boys with families of their own. I think this is best.”

She stopped her fussing and stood next to him. “You could just shoot them all.”

He looked into her perfectly round green eyes. “Now, do you think Sarah Ruth would want me to do that?” Her eyes began to tear up.

She reached up, hugged his shoulders, and kissed his cheek. Then she wiped her eyes with a rolled-up, white linen napkin. “I miss her, too, Henry.”

His voice was almost a whisper. “I know.”

She continued setting the table. “When I was in the East, I read an article in a New York newspaper about a medical procedure that, when perfected, might cure cancers forever. They said it was five years away from being usable.”

“That makes it eight years too late.”

“And you're right about Sarah Ruth. She would never want you to start a war over that ranch. All that girl ever wanted in her life was to live a quiet and godly life, taking care of her children and her man. Oh my, how she loved you, Henry Fortune.”

“I still love her.”

“I know . . . I know. Did I ever tell you how she made me stay up with her all night on the day you two met?”

“All night?” Brazos replied. “As I remember, I brought her home from that church supper by nine o'clock.”

“Oh, you brought her home. But she claimed to have such an ache in her heart for you, that she was afraid it would stop beating in the night and she would very probably die. I had to sleep with her and check to see that her heart was still beating.”

“You're stringing me along, Barbara Ferrar.”

One glare from his sister-in-law made the hair on the back of his neck curl. He knew she was extremely serious.

He changed the subject. “You're settin' up for eight of us. Not includin' the kids, I count you and Milt, Granny Young, Reverend Smithwick, Miss Adaline Crosley, and me. That's only six. You having other company tonight?”

“Didn't I tell you the March sisters are stopping by?” she hummed.

Brazos tugged at his black tie. “Eh, no . . . you seemed to have forgotten to tell me about the March sisters.”

“Well, they saw me at the grocery store in town, and when they found out you were going to be here for supper, they practically invited themselves. You know how the March sisters were such good friends with Sarah Ruth.”

“They haven't been ‘March' sisters in over thirty years.”

“Isn't that strange how we still remember some people by their maiden names? They were our next-door neighbors for fifteen years. When was the last time you saw them?”

“I reckon at Sarah Ruth's funeral. I don't remember much about that day,” he admitted.

“You didn't attend Leonard Driver's funeral?”

“That was when I was up in the Territory, tryin' to find Samuel, remember?”

“It was a very nice service. Not like Sarah Ruth's, of course. But nice, nonetheless. I was nine months along with Flora Doe when Mr. Speaker was laid to rest. You and Sarah Ruth went, as I remember.”

“We surely did.”

“What with their children all grown and living in the East, the March sisters mainly just have each other. It's too bad, both of them losing their husbands at such a young age.”

“Young? Both of them are only a few years behind me,” Brazos reminded her.

“That's what I mean,” she purred. “Way too young to spend the rest of your life unmarried.”

“Why do I get this feelin' I should have left for Fort Worth with Big River Frank?”

“Hush! I'll expect you to be cordial and gregarious for the March sisters. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Louise March Driver was one year and one day older than her sister. From the day their mother died, Louise had assumed the role of supervisor and counselor to Thelma. Louise had worn her long, straight black hair wrapped tightly on top her head since her school days. Her small brown eyes always sparkled, and her narrow-lipped smile revealed straight white teeth and a warmth that disarmed many a cold, tough male. She stood several inches taller than her sister.

Thelma March Speaker often allowed her curly, sandy blonde hair to billow down her back. In her late thirties her hair began to show a little gray, but no one had seen a gray hair on her head since . . . nor did they ask why. Her young-girl-smooth skin was the envy of most women over forty in central Texas. Her wide, full-lipped smile and her ability to properly fill out a dress still often turned men's heads in a crowded room, some much younger than Thelma.

At the far end of the table sat Dr. Milton Ferrar, who spent the entire day doctoring people and every evening talking politics to anyone who would listen and to many who didn't.

To his right was Barbara's place setting. However, she spent most of the evening scooting between the cook and the table. Next to her was her mother, affectionately called Granny Young. She had decided to stop wearing her false teeth on her seventy-fifth birthday, and to cease talking on the seventy-sixth. She always seemed happy, with her pleasant, toothless smile and voracious appetite.

On Milton Ferrar's left was a seminary-trained, twenty-six-year-old Methodist clergyman, Reverend Rodney Smithwick. Other than the few moments he bowed his head to say grace, he never took his eyes off Miss Adaline Crosley, the recently appointed schoolteacher and permanent houseguest, who sat next to him and seemed to delight in the attention she received.

As Brazos expected, Barbara seated him at the far end of the table—with Louise Driver on one side, Thelma Speaker on the other.

Milton Ferrar, finding no one near him to talk politics, spent most of the evening shouting bits of conversation down the full length of the table. “Brazos, did you read about those doings in Europe?”

Brazos stared across a forkful of pot roast. “I don't reckon I did. They didn't start a war, did they?”

“Not yet, but who knows,” Milton called out. “They're having riots over there in Bosnia and Herzegovina against the sultan. Those Turks should never be in Europe in the first place!”

“I don't suppose there's too much anyone can do about that,” Brazos called back.

Louise Driver reached her hand over to Brazos's arm. “You know, Mr. Fortune, I think it is terribly exciting what you're doing.”

“Exciting?” he said.

“Imagine packing up and moving to the wilds of Montana! It's very courageous. Why, the most adventuresome thing Thelma and I ever do is our yearly train ride to the East Coast to visit the children.”

“I'm not sure, exactly, where I'll find a place,” Brazos replied. “It might not be Montana. Perhaps it will be in Wyoming, or Dakota . . . or even Idaho.”

“Idaho?” Thelma Speaker gasped. “Good grief, who would move to such a primitive place as that?”

“Now, Thelma,” Louise cautioned. “We know people who have moved to Idaho.”

“Who?”

“Our neighbor, Mr. Abbney, remember?”

“He was a cattle rustler and a murderer!”

“Yes, dear, but he took very good care of his garden. Remember those carrots he brought us?”

“Brazos,” Milton Ferrar hollered, “what kind of job do you think this man, Disraeli, will do as prime minister in England? It sounds rather chancy to me, a man of his age.”

“I've never really understood English politics,” Brazos shouted back. “I thought he was prime minister once before.”