Dakota Dream (19 page)

"Then let us explore this town of Bismarck." Jacob smiled and mimicked the gesture he'd seen Barney make to Hazel. He bent his elbow and extended it. When Dominique slipped her hand through the opening, Jacob's chest swelled, and he escorted her out the door.

Once in the fresh air, they strolled north toward the end of town. As they paused at the last building, the Northern Pacific depot, a sudden
whoosh
caught Jacob's attention. Fascinated by the sound, he lurched in that direction, dragging Dominique along beside him.

"Ah," he sighed when he rounded the corner and came upon a steaming locomotive. Tentatively, he reached out and touched the shiny black paint. "So this is the fire breather, the iron horse."

"The fire-breathing
what?
You sound as if you've never seen a train before!"

Undaunted by her observation, Jacob kept his gaze fastened to the locomotive. "I have seen these trains in the past, but only from a great distance. I have never been close enough to touch a machine of such power."

Dominique jerked her hand away from his elbow and rested it on her hip. "I swear, Jacob, I'm beginning to think you were raised in a cave."

"Pardon me?"

"I don't mean to be impertinent, but there are so many things you don't seem to know about. It's like you come from a foreign land sometimes."

"Sometimes I feel that way. That and stupid," he said absently.

"Oh, please don't say that. I didn't
mean anything by it."
Dominique took a deep breath and let it out slowly, wondering when she would ever learn to hold her reckless tongue. She had no right to talk to Jacob that way, probably had
him
confused with that secret half-breed brother of his, that mountain of a man who'd both saved and terrified her. She shivered. Then she tried to undo the damage. "Look, what I meant to say is—"

"I think I know what you meant, Dominique, and I do understand. In many ways you do come from a different world than mine. The Stoltz
family were
prairie people. We traveled in wagons and kept to ourselves, stopping only in small places where the railroad had not yet reached."
Until the family was no more.
Until of necessity, as Jacob Redfoot, he was forced to stay away from towns and areas where the iron horse roamed.

"That's no excuse for the way I talked to you. Just because I come from a big city, it's not right for me to assume everyone has had a train ride. That makes me the stupid one."

"Please forget about it."

He'd called a definite end to the conversation, if not by words, then by manner. Feeling guilty, as if she'd stepped into a part of his life to which he issued no invitations, Dominique glanced around for some kind of distraction. At the other end of Main Avenue, she found one.

"Come on, Jacob," she said, hoping this had something to do with the fabled Fourth Street. "Let's go see what's causing the commotion at the other end of town."

Still fascinated by the hissing engine, he touched the hot metal one more time,
then
allowed her to drag him back down the street. Halfway there after passing his mount and the buckboard, Jacob finally noticed the throngs of townsfolk. Like a swarm of wasps, they gathered around a wildly painted ox-drawn wagon. Concerned about displaying any further lack of knowledge Jacob kept his questions to himself.

Intrigued by what lay ahead, the pair crossed
Fourth
without realizing they had. When they stopped near the wagon, Dominique leaned against Jacob's shoulder and whispered, "What do you think it is?"

"You mean you don't know?"

"I'm not sure. Let's get a better look."

In need of no encouragement, he reached for her hand and pulled her into the crowd. Using his broad shoulders as ramrods, Jacob cleared a path to the front of the assembly. Before them, a tall silver-haired gentleman, obviously of fine breeding, gestured for the congregation to gather around. Flapping the sleeves of his colorful Chinese mandarin robe of satin, he used exaggerated hand movements to pull a yellow silk scarf from inside the folds of the garment,
then
waved it toward the audience.

When he was certain the crowd was with him, the man used the scarf as a blindfold, and tied it over the eyes of a beautiful Oriental girl standing beside him.

"Step right up, folks," the silver-haired man called. "Come close and watch the mystical, magical sorcery of Princess Ling
Ling
, Queen of the Poppies."

Enthralled, Jacob leaned in toward Dominique and whispered in her ear. “What are they doing? What is their purpose?"

Dominique shrugged. "I don't know for sure, but it might be one of those medicine shows. My father would never let me go to one. I think I'm about to find out why."

"A medicine show?"
Jacob glanced at the man,
then
returned his gaze Dominique. "And this is a medicine man?"

"I suppose so. I don't know what else he could be called."

Hugely impressed, thinking he'd finally found something the Lakota had in common with the white man, he casually slipped his arm across her shoulders and squeezed.

For a moment, the show was forgotten. Dominique and Jacob stared into each other's eyes, touched by the knowledge they were poised on the same level of discovery, intensely aware of their close proximity. Afraid he might have gotten too familiar, he sidestepped, apologizing, "I should not have done that. Please forgive me.”

"It's all right, Jacob. You make me feel safe." Her smile shy and self-conscious as his strong arm again surrounded her shoulders, Dominique turned back to the man in the robe as he launched into his routine.

“Who among you would like your fortune told for free by this lovely lady of the Orient? Step forward. Avail yourself of Professor Harrington's specialized services. It won't cost you one thin dime, not one shiny penny to learn what your future has in store for you. Step right up."

As if cued by the final words, the doors to the back of the bright red and white wagon burst open and an Indian wearing a banjo strapped to his chest hopped out. He let out a war whoop and shook a pole with a series of bells attached to it as he made his way to the professor's side. Then he jabbed the pointed end of the pole into the soft earth and slipped the toe of his boot into a halter near the bottom. When he began strumming the banjo, he tapped his foot and jingled the bells in rhythm with the song. Captured by the infectious beat, the crowd joined in and clapped along with the music.

Their heads swiveling in unison, Jacob and Dominique cast furtive glances at each other as they observed the strange proceedings. But they did not clap along with the music. Jacob's arm remained across Dominique's shoulders, and her hands stayed clasped in a tight ball at the front of her gingham dress.
Even though they studied the entertainers, their concentration centered on each other's touch.
Then the Oriental girl in the scarlet Chinese gown managed to capture their attention as she ran her finger across a farmer's palm.

In a high, squeaky voice, Princess Ling
Ling
proclaimed, "I see a record crop in the next harvest." She paused, allowing the crowd
their oh
's and
ah's
, then continued.
"But I also
forcast
bouts of debilitating illness for you and your wife, too."
She tore
off
the blindfold and widened her almond-shaped eyes. "You must take the proper precautions to guard your health. If you don't," she warned, waving a two-inch fingernail in his face, "I fear you will not live to see your abundant crops reaped."

Several women gasped as others made their way forward and had their fortunes told. The words varied, but the princess always ended with dire warnings about expected sicknesses. Alarmed, Jacob pulled Dominique closer to question her about these illnesses just as another farmer stepped forward. He waved off the free palm reading and turned to the crowd, silencing them with his announcement.

"It's not as bad as it sounds. I know because I speak from experience." He spun around to the wagon and its owner. "You still make that tonic, Professor? It saved my life more than once last year, and I'm sad to say I'm almost out. I'd be right grateful if you'd sell me some more."

"Why, as luck would have it, I do believe I still have a bottle or two left." The professor pointed to the Indian. "Chief Nogasackett, would you please have a look at our supplies?"

Jacob and Dominique exchanged curious glances, and he whispered, "What is a tonic?"

"Medicine of some kind."

Jacob touched the small pouch beneath his shirt wondering if the professor's medicine was as powerful as that mixed by Sitting Bull, if it could cure illness of the mind as well as of the body. Then the Indian strolled back to the front of the crowd, his broad grin exposing several crooked, stained teeth. Although uncommonly white for a red man, Chief Nogasackett had the expected braids hanging down his back and a large feather protruding from a bright red headband, but he wore the baggy trousers of a miner. Sewn to the legs of these pants were large pockets bulging with glass decanters of the mysterious tonic.

Taking one of these bottles from the chief, Professor Harrington held it high above the crowd. "The life-saving formula our friend and neighbor speaks of is contained right here in this vial, this elixir of life. I have observed the authenticity of this product firsthand," he proclaimed. "I have accompanied Chief Nogasackett on many an excursion as he picks just the right herbs and roots, blends them with his own specially grown herbs, and adds them to the mystical power contained in Princess Ling Ling's secret extract of poppy."

He paused, taking a breath, and gave the crowd a chance to absorb the information before he made yet another proclamation. "I stand behind this product with a guarantee no other can offer—Professor Harrington's Nature Cure and Worm Syrup will heal liver ailments, eliminate all suffering from the pain of a toothache to the agony of childbirth, and restore health to those who must endure any number of maladies."

Again he paused, this time giving the chief a chance to resume his tunes. As the music built to fever pitch, the professor made his final claims. "More than a spring tonic, able to purify and strengthen even the weakest of blood, this miracle cure and worm syrup can be yours for just one dollar. One small coin between you and the best health you've ever had. Step right up, folks. Get yours while the supply lasts."

The chief resumed his banjo playing as the farmer came forward and bought two bottles of the murky liquid. Again, Jacob and Dominique exchanged glances.

"This must be very powerful medicine," Jacob breathed.

"I have to admit that it does sound kind of interesting," she said, thinking of the dreadful cramping she was having from her monthly miseries. "Maybe I should try some. I do have a—a stomachache."

"And if it works the way the man says it
does ..."
Jacob answered, pushing his hand against his belly and the constant agitation he'd had since joining the army. He stepped forward and addressed the professor. "Will this medicine work on an angry belly?"

"Indigestion, you say? You hear that, folks? The man wants to know if the professor's cure will relieve his indigestion. Hell, son, I don't even mention an ailment as simple as that. 'Course my tonic can cure a sick gut. That goes without saying."