Fireblossom (46 page)

"That's what family's for. We're all blessed to be here together, and we need to enjoy one another's company, just as we did while we were making those curtains for the children." Crossing the floor, she put on her spectacles again and took a plum from the basket, examining it with a critical eye. "These appear to be excellent wild plums. I was just telling my daughter-in-law that I know an easy way to seed these. Why don't we spend the afternoon making pies and jam?"

Susan smiled and nodded, adding that Annie Sunday's plan sounded like a wonderful way to pass an autumn day. Maddie glanced over to see Sun Smile nodding, too, her gray eyes wide with pleasure.

* * *

While Annie Sunday, Susan, Maddie, and Sun Smile were making wild plum pies in the cottage above Sherman Street, a very different drama was unfolding farther north on Deadwood's Main Street.

Graham Horatio Winslow III happened to be standing in front of Nuttall & Mann's Number 10 Saloon when a group of what appeared to be half-dead soldiers came straggling down the hill into Chinatown. A few, including a man with a bushy, forked beard and an impressive uniform, rode horses; the rest were on foot. People began to stop and stare at them, pointing and chattering.

Winslow strolled over to a gambler who he knew had been living in this region for several months. The black-haired fellow sported a waxed and perfumed mustache and called himself Cheyenne Luke.

"Luke! What's this all about? Any idea?" Winslow had learned to adjust his manner to fit whomever he was with.

"Where you been, pilgrim? Didn't you hear that General Crook and his men was headed this way? They been starving all the way south from Little Bighorn, 'least that's what I was told. Those sneakin' red savages knew that Crook was hunting 'em down, so they burned all the grass and there wasn't food for the army's horses." Luke twirled his mustache thoughtfully. "I heard that Crook had revenge, though. Attacked a bunch of Sioux at Slim Buttes an' burned their village. Killed 'em all, I bet. They was those hostiles with Crazy Horse... I just hope Crook is gonna make a speech an' tell us he managed to blast a hole through that heathen Crazy Horse, too!" Cheyenne Luke paused to relight a cigar stub, then continued, "Anyways, by that time, a week or so ago, Crook's troops'd ate about all the horses, or so the story goes... an' from the look of 'em on foot, I guess it's true. Anyways, a relief force from Camp Crook, just a little ways north of here, took supplies up to the troops, an' now they've made it here."

Winslow was livid. "I hope that they mean to get reinforcements and go after every single Indian within a hundred miles of the Black Hills! The raids from that rabid Crazy Horse have got to stop! And, how can we allow Fox Matthews, or whatever his name really is, to keep that squaw in his home? He found her with Crazy Horse! For all we know, she is that evil savage's agent, planted among us by one of our own citizens!" He raised his voice as he spoke, and it pleased him to hear rumbling agreement from the townspeople nearby.

Soon general pandemonium erupted as miners and upstairs girls alike surged into the street to welcome the mud-caked, emaciated troopers of General George Crook's Third Cavalry. Graham Winslow had a feeling that something good was going to come his way as a result of these new developments. Even Calamity Jane, Captain Jack Crawford, and Charley Utter were here today.

Wading through the crowds, he crossed Main Street and accosted a skeletal, ragged soldier in front of the Gem Theatre. Like his comrades, the fellow had broken ranks and was starting through the doorway in search of the pleasures within. Winslow caught his arm and felt the sharp bones of his elbow.

"My good man, I hope you will allow me to buy you a bottle. You look as if you could use one, along with a hot meal!" he cried in jovial tones.

The trooper blinked, then broke into a grin that revealed a stained front tooth broken in half. Before speaking, he sucked on it. "Well, sir, I'd be much obliged! Don't know which I need more, food or drink, but I kin tell you that I ain't had much to eat 'cept my horse for longer'n I kin remember."

Although horrified by this gruesome announcement, Winslow clapped the man on the back and led him into the dimly lit interior of the Gem. It was redolent of smoke, strong spirits, and cheap perfume. Winslow watched his new friend inhale with gusto. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Graham Horatio Winslow the Third, and it is my honor to be of service to a hero like yourself."

Stroking his straggly, tangled beard, the trooper replied. "I'm Jeb Campbell. I nearly got killed at Little Bighorn, then I got sent off with General Crook and the Third Cavalry an' I thought I was gonna starve to death if I didn't get killed first by more of that Crazy Horse's savage scum. This is been the worst summer of my life, sir, an' all I wanta do is get outta the army an' get rich."

Winslow brought a bottle to their table, poured a generous drink for Jeb Campbell, and gave him a charming smile. "I'd say that you deserve that and more, Jeb. And you've come to the right town. In Deadwood, a fellow can do just about anything he wants...."

* * *

By the time General Crook emerged onto the balcony of the Grand Central Hotel to speak to the citizens of Deadwood, Jeb Campbell was pretty drunk and well into ogling Al Swearingen's soiled doves. Winslow had promised to buy one for him later, as he'd plied the man with more liquor in exchange for every detail of his life story.

"Crook's gettin' ready to make a speech!" Garnet Loomis announced, waving at the boisterous crowd in the Gem to come join her outside.

"Let's go out and listen," Winslow suggested to Jeb. Nodding, the hapless trooper staggered to his feet and lurched out the door, with Graham Winslow a few paces behind him.

Main Street was as festive as if it were the Fourth of July. A brass band played a few patriotic tunes before General Crook appeared. It was difficult to hear what he was saying over all the noise and cheering, but Winslow did make out the general's promise that with his arrival, the threat of further Indian raids was over. The ovation that followed was deafening.

Jeb Campbell shrugged. "Easy for him to say; he's leavin' tomorrow. Some of us'll stay behind, but I'm done with fightin'." He stared at Winslow for a moment with bleary eyes, then confessed, "I almost ran before the battle at Slim Buttes. Plenty of others did."

Through the crowd, Winslow glimpsed a face he now despised. Fox tried to blend in, to be inconspicuous, but his height, physique, and arresting profile drew eyes to him. Today, he was wearing the same brown slouch hat that had covered his head the day he'd first ridden into Deadwood, and a blue kerchief was tied around his neck. Although his face was partially obscured, Fox was a hard man to miss.

"See that man over there?" Winslow said in a voice that dripped venom. He poked Jeb Campbell in the side. "The one wearing the blue kerchief round his neck? There's a man who had had more luck than anyone deserves... in fact, he's had luck that should have come
my
way. He came here barely two months ago with nothing, and now he's rich, he has a home, a business, a beautiful wife who is the most glorious and desirable—"

"I
know
that feller!" Jeb cut in with a hiss, squinting at Fox. "Least I think so. He had a beard before, but... what's his name?"

"Well, he went by the name Fox Daniel when he first arrived, but I've recently learned that his name is Daniel Matthews. I have always suspected that he has a secret, and that if I could only learn it, it could spell his ruin!"

Jeb staggered drunkenly, grasped Winslow's arm for support, and leered into his face. "I know that secret, but I can't tell ya fer free."

After pushing the bony trooper up against the side of the Gem Theatre, Winslow looked around to make certain they were not being observed. "Listen to me, you stupid idiot! I'll pay you, if that's what you want, but if your information is truly valuable, we can use it against him and both become as rich as Croesus! We can ruin him and have all his possessions for ourselves!"

"Maybe, but I'd as soon see money
now,"
Jeb slurred. Watching as Winslow dug through his pockets, the soldier mused, "Life sure is funny, ain't it? Who'da thought I'd see Major Matthews again? Even when that squaw at Slim Buttes tipped me off that he was here, told me that he was scared of bein' found out about Little Bighorn, I didn't think that she knew what she was talkin' about."

"What squaw? He has one here, too."

"Yeah, that's what this other one said. Her name was..." He scratched his head and a tiny black bug jumped downward. "Uh... somethin' like Runs Away. I didn't pay her much mind at the time... but I prob'ly wouldn't of recognized him if she hadn't reminded me." Belching, Jeb added, "Not a bad piece of tail fer a squaw, either. Hadta burn her tipi anyways, even though I told her I wouldn't if she—"

Impatiently Winslow stuffed a number of bills and coins into the drunken man's grimy hand and said, "Now then,
tell
me! You called him Major Matthews. What's that all about? Was he in the army?"

"How 'bout that pocket watch yer sportin' there on yer vest? Sure is purty."

Winslow's eyes were glittering with rage and urgency as he unhooked the chain that extended from a buttonhole down to his watch pocket. Practically throwing the engraved heirloom, the property of generations of New Haven Winslows, at the hideous Jeb Campbell, he cried, "Tell me,
now!"

With a slow smile, the soldier beckoned him forward, then whispered, "Well, sir, the long and the short of it is that Daniel Matthews deserted from the Seventh Cavalry just before the massacre at Little Bighorn. General Custer'd just divided the troops, an' Matthews was to go with Custer. I was with Reno... but I saw him leave, plain as day." Sucking on his tooth, he nodded. "Plain as day, I watched big, brave Major Matthews ride his horse over the hill... an' he kept on goin'. He shoulda been with Custer, dead on that hill, but instead he ran—and now he's the luckiest man in Deadwood. Right?"

Winslow's heart pounded so that he feared it might explode. He didn't know whether to laugh or shout, but he felt more like fainting. Inch by inch, he turned his golden head and sought Fox's tanned, handsome face in the depths of the crowd.

"Too lucky," Winslow murmured at last, and smiled. "But not for long."

Chapter 28

September 15-17, 1876

When she saw Fox and Watson appear at the top of the drive leading to their little group of homes, Maddie lifted her skirts and rushed to meet him. The sight of her husband wearing a slouch hat with the brim turned down gave her pause. No sooner had Fox swung down from Watson's back and caught Maddie up in his arms, than she drew the hat from his head.

"I don't like the look of that!" she exclaimed. "Are you in disguise, my dear?"

"Disguise might be too strong a word... but not entirely inaccurate," Fox allowed, with a dry smile, leading Watson to the simple stable he'd built for himself and the Averys. After closing the horse in his stall with fresh water and food, he tucked Maddie's hand into the crook of his arm and they walked together toward their log house.

"I've been on pins and needles waiting for you to come home ever since we learned that General Crook and his troops were down on Main Street," she said. "What a bother it is to be a respectable female in this town. The
femmes de joie
have front-row seats for every event of importance while I languish in the hinterlands, practically expiring with curiosity because I have a reputation to maintain!"

"You had your chance to take up with Garnet Loomis back in July and you wanted nothing to do with her, as I recall." It was a pleasure to banter with his wife after the tension of the afternoon, so much so that Fox wished they never had to come to the point. "Where is everyone, by the way? Are you the only member of this family who wants to hear about General Crook?"

She waved a delicate hand dismissingly. "Your mother and Gramma Susan are up to their elbows in wild plum jam. I made us a pie and started pacing." Maddie pointed through the pine trees that divided the properties. "They're all at the main house, filling the kitchen. Even Father and Benjamin have been pressed into service by Annie. She's put an apron on Father!"

He chuckled at that image, then asked. "And Sun Smile?"

"Well... I believe that she may have taken her reading primer off somewhere for a bit of solitude, but I'm sure that she's not within earshot. Even if she were, she wouldn't understand what you're talking about." Maddie was growing agitated. "Do stop asking questions and enlighten me!"

"All right." Leaning against a tree, Fox told her about the campaign that was now being called General Crook's "starvation march." He described the ill and demoralized men who had survived to come to Deadwood, and what he had heard of Crook's speech promising an end to the Indian raids on the Black Hills.

"What else?" Maddie pressed. She wondered why every time she met Fox's crisp blue eyes he looked away.

"You're almost too smart. It's tiring," he complained, with mock weariness.