Friends and Enemies (8 page)

She rubbed her long fingers across the scalloped china cup, letting the heat warm her hands.

The girls seem settled, especially when Daddy Brazos spoils them so. And Little Frank . . . that child finds a home anywhere on the face of the earth. He loves everything he does, trusts everyone he meets, believes that there isn't anything in the world he can't do. He's probably right.

And Robert's off on a new job.

Jamie Sue sat in a straight-back, leather-cushioned chair facing the sofa and sipped her coffee. There was no sound except the ticking of the round brass clock over the mantel.

Keep him safe, Lord. I suppose I'll never have a day that I don't worry about his safety. It's always been that way. But I couldn't live without him, Lord. I know we fight and argue some, but we do make up. Oh, mercy, how we do make up.

After all these years, here we are in Deadwood.

And I don't have anything to do.

There are no clothes to wash; we have them on our backs. Louise has this house so clean that dust is ashamed to come through the door. That's the trouble with living in a hotel; there's nothing to do. Even my sewing basket is in one of the trunks.

I should go to the library and find a book.

Is this the way my life will be in Deadwood?

At the fort, everyone needed me. “Mrs. Fortune, could you help me write to my mother?” “Mrs. Fortune, the baby's sick, what should I do?” “Mrs. Fortune, would you go with me to tell a young wife and mother that she's now a widow?” “Mrs. Fortune, I need your advice on how to lay out my vegetable garden.” “Mrs. Fortune, my husband is drunk and mean again; can I stay in your spare room until he sobers up?” “Mrs. Fortune, could you see my wife gets to the doctor in town?”

In Deadwood no one needs me. No one needs another Mrs. Fortune. I'm not complaining, Lord. Just bewildered. Puzzled. At a loss to find my place.

OK, so I'm complaining a little. Forgive me.

Jamie Sue was staring at the blank wall above the sofa when she heard a knock. Peeking outside the window, she saw a company panel wagon that read “Deadwood-Lead Telephone Exchange.” She opened the door. “Sammy!”

“Hope I'm not botherin' anything,” he drawled.

“Oh, my no, I'm delighted to see you. Bobby headed for Rapid City, and the children are out and about.”

“I saw the girls down at the hardware with Daddy Brazos.”

“I trust he is not buying them anything else.”

“Sort of goes overboard, doesn't he?” Sam grinned.

“With the twins? He's bordering on a world's record for spoiling.” She glanced out at a workman at the back of the company wagon. “Is this a social visit or a business visit?”

“Both. I brought Mr. Richards to install your telephone.”

“Telephone? Robert and I didn't even discuss a telephone. How much does it cost?”

“It's free,” Samuel insisted.

“Sammy, we can't let you pay for . . .”

“Oh, no,
I'm
not giving it to you for free. The Fremont, Elkhorn, and Missouri Valley Railroad want their railroad inspector to have a telephone for those late-night and weekend emergencies.”

“We've never had a telephone before.”

“They are a wonderful invention that no home should be without.” He leaned a little closer and lowered his voice, “If you want to know the truth, don't let the twins even know you have one. Amber bothers us night and day to use it. And she doesn't have anyone to call besides Dacee June. But she'll have the twins now.”

“I don't think it will be too much of a problem,” Jamie Sue said. “We'll use it just for business and emergencies.”

“That's what ever'one says, until they own one. Let's find a good wall to mount it on, then Mr. Richards will run the wire to the pole. Oh, yes, Abby sent over a box of things for you. Let me go fetch them.”

While Mr. Richards attached the awkward oak and black-steel box to the kitchen wall, Samuel sat at the dining-room table with a deep blue, gold-trimmed mug of coffee. His tie was loose; the collar button on his white shirt, unfastened.

Jamie Sue sorted through the box that was propped in the middle of the table. “Sammy, I can't let Abby give us these new dresses!”

“You'd better, or I'll be in a mess of trouble. She figures you'll need a change of clothes sooner or later, what with those trunks lost.”

“Oh, I'm sure they're not lost. Robert's going to inquire of them in Rapid City. This green dress is beautiful. I don't think I've ever owned one so . . . so . . .”

“So dramatic?”

“Yes, that's it.”

“Abby has a goal in life to make sure Fortune women are well dressed.”

Jamie Sue watched as Sam gulped the coffee exactly as Robert did.
I don't think they all learned that habit from their mama.
“I'm a little embarrassed,” she said.

“She said you might need to stitch it up in the front.”

“No,” Jamie Sue blushed, “that's not what I meant. I'm embarrassed by her generosity . . .”
I will definitely stitch it up in the front!

“It's what Abby does, Jamie Sue. She has to be that way. Isn't that the way it is for all of us?” he reasoned. “Within the Lord's limitations, we have to do what we have to do. Now, your Bobby has to wear a uniform or a badge. We all know that. Law and order is in his blood. He would have made a miserable lumber-mill owner. You and I both know that.”

She waltzed around the dining room holding the dress in front of her. “How do I look, Sammy?”

“Stunning, of course.”

“Samuel Fortune, you are a wonderful liar.”

“I am neither wonderful nor a liar. But I have developed a keen eye for spotting a handsome woman. It is common knowledge that the Fortune brothers cut themselves out the three prettiest ones in the herd.”

“I always have a difficult time remembering that cattle analogies are compliments,” she laughed as she folded the dress back up.

“The duckings and boiled shirt for Little Frank came from the hardware. Abby doesn't carry men's clothing.”

“You mean, boy's clothes.”

“Jamie Sue, you've got a handsome young man there. And he's as quiet and reserved around adults as his namesake.”

“I wish I could have known Big River Frank better,” she added.

“Todd claims the day he was killed was the day Daddy's health started to slip. Big River took that bullet for Daddy and Dacee June, you know. It's a debt Daddy could never repay. They just don't make friendships like those any more.”

“I don't know. . . . I know some brothers who would do the same thing,” she countered.

“You're right about that. But that's because we were taught that way.”

Jamie Sue pulled out a light yellow dress.

“Abby said the girls could decide who got the yellow one and who got the rose one,” Samuel explained.

“Oh, my . . . they are beautiful . . . but we do have a problem.”

“What's that?”

“Never in their lives have the girls had unmatching dresses.”

Samuel leaned back and rubbed his gray mustache. “You mean they always dress alike?”

“Always. They even have to have identical undergarments.”

“Abby apologized, but she doesn't have two of any ready-made dresses. She has this idea that no woman wants to see someone else in the same dress, so every dress she stocks is completely different. But, listen, if it will cause a fuss, let me take them back and they don't even have to know,” he proposed.

Jamie Sue pulled out the rose-colored dress and ran her fingers across the cool, slick satin trim. “No . . . I think this will be a good lesson for them. They just have to figure this out.” She left the two dresses draped over dining-room chairs. “I think I'll just leave them here and not say a word. It will be interesting to see what they do. You'll have to take my sincere thanks to Abby.”

“You can thank her yourself, once that telephone gets installed.”

“Now that will take some getting used to. At the fort not even the colonel had a telephone.”

“Someday most every home in the country will have one of these.”

“You sound like the president of the phone exchange.”

“Isn't this strange, Jamie Sue, Sam Fortune running a telephone exchange? Todd is doing what he was created to do. And so is your Bobby. But me? What in the world am I doing running a phone company?”

She carefully stretched out the dresses on the chairs. “Making a good living, it looks like.”

Samuel nodded. “That's for sure. But it's not me. You know that. . . . Todd and Bobby know that . . .”

“What is your place, Sammy?”

“Out on the range. I should have me a spread and cows to work, horses to break, and the wide open spaces in every direction. Look at me, Jamie Sue. I'm tucked into a wool suit, corralled in a gulch . . . with a bank account growing and so many belongings we have to lock our doors at night. This isn't me.”

“Does Abby know you feel that way?”

“I don't want to break her heart, darlin', . . . and don't you tell her, either. She loves it here. For the first time in her life, she is surrounded by a family and friends that deeply care about her. She's had a rough life. I wouldn't take all that away from her for anything.”

“So you stay miserable.”

“I'm not miserable.” Sam brushed his thick, prematurely gray hair off his ears. “I've starved out on the run in the hills of Oklahoma. . . . I've been locked in little jail cells months at a time. . . . I've woke up not knowin' where I was or who I was with. . . . I know what misery is, and I'm not miserable.”

“But it's not you?”

“That's about it. How about you, Jamie Sue? Is this your place?”

She paused. “I believe so.”

“I'm glad. Because all the rest of us are so glad you are here.”

“I appreciate that.”

“And I appreciate you listenin' to me. It's funny, but ever since I came to Deadwood, I've felt like I have to watch what I say and who I say it to. With family thick as rattlesnakes in the prickly pear cactus, a person has to be careful. I don't know why I'm shovelin' all of this on you. It just seems like . . . well, I don't know quite how to say this, . . . but you just seem to see right to the heart of a person on first glance. You've always been that way.”

“You're exaggerating.”

“When did you decide to marry Bobby?”

“Sammy . . .”

“Answer me.”

“The first day I met him in that blizzard.”

“See? It's a gift, Jamie Sue. It ain't a threatenin' thing. It's relaxin' to know someone sees right through you and likes you anyway. I thank you for it.”

“Thanks, Sammy. That's very nice. No one's ever told me that before. You aren't trying to sweet-talk me again, are you?”

Sam Fortune frowned. “I could never figure what you ladies mean by me sweet-talkin' you. I just look at you and tell the truth, and you all giggle and call it ‘sweet talk.' I don't even have any hidden motives. I'm just tellin' the truth.”

“Oooohwee, you are good at it, Sammy. You have got to be the best there has ever been at saying things that make a lady glad to be who she is.”

“Maybe that's what I do best.” Sam stood. “Now I need to check and see if Mr. Richards needs any help outside with the telephone wire. I'll leave you a sheet of instructions. On the back side is the directory of phone numbers.”

She walked him to the front door.

He shoved on his hat, then stepped back and kissed her cheek. “Thanks for listening to me, Jamie Sue. I haven't really had someone to listen like that since . . . since Mama died.”

She watched Sam Fortune stroll out. The sunlight was just peering over White Rocks, high atop Mt. Moriah cemetery to the east.

Lord, I have never known a woman who is more dearly missed by all her family than Sarah Ruth Fortune. He hasn't had someone to talk to since his mama died? What about Abby? You talk to your wife, don't you?

But not about everything. You love them, want to protect them, but you feel like you need to uphold a certain confidence.

I understand.

But who do I have to talk to?

Sammy? Abby? Rebekah? Daddy Brazos?

Maybe all I have is You, Lord.

I'm not complaining.

I just long for someone to talk to who could help me discover what is my thing to do.

Robert sat in the last seat of the last car of the train to Rapid City. With railroad maps spread on the seat around him, he studied the landscape on the west side of the tracks. He recorded every narrow gorge, every horse-hiding boulder, every building, every clump of trees that could masquerade danger.

When he arrived at the depot in Rapid City, he crammed all the papers back into his new brown leather satchel. The sky was a clear, washed-out blue. The Dakota sun seemed to explode with bright yellow heat.

As he stepped out onto the platform, he noticed the conductor was the same man he met when the attempted hold-up occurred.

“Mr. Fortune, I hear you hired on as train inspector.”

“Yes, sir.”

The man's white hair curled out under his cap. “That surely does make me relieved. How can I be of assistance to you?” The man tugged off his wire-frame spectacles and rubbed the red marks on the bridge of his nose.

“I'm developing a set of guidelines for railroad personnel on how to handle dangerous situations. I'll let you know when I have it complete,” Robert explained.

“You lookin' for men?” the conductor asked.