Shadow of Legends (23 page)

“I did not expect you would.”

Todd held the middle chair for Abigail, the left one for Rebekah. After the ladies were seated, all three men sat down.

Dr. Gordon rapped his long fingers on the tabletop. “Mr. Dover says you absolutely refused my offer. Is that right?”

Abigail's hands lay in her lap. “Yes, it is. And I'm sure that you didn't journey all the way here from the train by stagecoach to hear me say that. So, why this meeting?”

“I have a few more delicate matters that have come to my attention since we last spoke,” Mr. Dover asserted. “I believe it strengthens the doctor's contentions.”

“I trust you are talking about legal matters. I do not intend to sit here and listen to anyone dispel my character and castigate my choice of professions,” Abigail asserted.

Watson Dover yanked a handful of papers from his briefcase. “I will do what I am paid to do.”

“Well, go ahead Mr. Attorney, earn your keep,” Abigail encouraged.

“In light of new evidence,” Dover announced, “I would like for you to reconsider Dr. Gordon's offer.”

“What new evidence?” Abigail asked.

Dover handed her a piece of paper with a detailed list of allegations. “First, through some diligent work of some investigators hired by Dr. Gordon, we have received a telegram from Omaha, Nebraska, and learned that you have not raised your daughter, but she is, even as we speak, staying with your elderly mother. Second, you have chosen to work at a place called the Gem Theater. Its private boxes are notoriously known for being impromptu brothels.”

Todd jumped to his feet. “Are you accusing Abigail of being a soiled dove? Because if you are, you haven't even begun to see what I would do when I get angry . . .”

Abigail held out her hand and gripped his coat sleeve. “Wait, Todd. I would like to hear the conclusion of these accusations.”

Todd clutched his holstered gun.

“Daddy Brazos,” Rebekah commanded, “sit down!”

The words spun Todd's head around.
Well . . . well, perhaps I do sound like him, but . . . but . . . he's right! This is untenable!
Todd left the gun holstered but continued to stand alert.

“I have a strong suspicion,” Abigail continued, “that it will become even more repugnant. Please sit down, Todd.”

A red-faced Todd Fortune reluctantly sat on the edge of his chair. “I presume you will get to the point,” he inserted.

The doctor cleared his throat. “The point is, unless you agree to this settlement, I will be forced to go to a court and seek to remove my daughter from your inferior custody and place her in a foster home where she can be properly cared for.”

This time it was Abigail who leaped to her feet. “You came here with papers disinheriting your daughter, and yet you accuse me of providing improper care?”

Dr. Gordon stood, his face a cold mask of fury. “I'm only saying that there are several options here, and I want you to understand the implications of your decision,” he shouted.

Rebekah and Todd raised up beside Abigail. “Mr. Fortune,” Rebekah's voice quivered with rage, “this might be a good time to go ahead and shoot Dr. Gordon.”

“Wait!” Dover called out. “I believe my client perhaps had a poor choice of words.”

“Dover, we had no idea how articulate you were until we heard the doctor rant and rave,” Todd grumbled.

“I believe there is a better way to phrase this. May I continue, Mrs. Gordon?” Dover asked.

“With that man in the room, I have nothing to discuss.” She pointed at Dr. Gordon.

“This is preposterous,” he blustered.

Dover, a good eight inches shorter than the doctor, swelled up his chest and shoved the bigger man toward the east wall of the room. “Dr. Gordon, you are interfering with my negotiations. Go over and sit in that chair near the door, or exit the room immediately.”

“Do what?” he roared.

Dover again shoved Dr. Gordon. “I do not tell you how to perform surgery. I do not need you to tell me how to negotiate. Go over there and sit down.”

“I can fire you,” Gordon threatened.

“And that would leave you alone with Mr. Fortune and his revolver, a situation that I am seriously considering. However, I believe you have threatened to fire me for several years. Somehow your threats seem far less enforceable in Deadwood than they do in Chattanooga. Now go over there and sit down. I know far too much about your life and practice for you to ever fire me. Shoot me, perhaps. But you will never dismiss me.”

Todd Fortune stared at Watson Dover as Dr. Gordon shuffled to the east wall and slumped into a captain's chair. He leaned across the table and spoke in hushed tones. “Dover, I'm proud of you. Spoken like a man.”

“Yes, well,” he replied in a whisper, “it must be this Deadwood air that makes a man both foolish and brave. I suspect I have not heard the last of this.”

Dr. Gordon called out, “I expect to hear what's going on. No secret negotiations.”

They all sat down.

“Here is the point,” Watson Dover continued. “My client is extremely concerned about getting a quitclaim on his estate signed and will pay handsomely for it. If it is not signed, he will try to achieve a similar result, albeit by different methods.”

“Methods of character assassination, slander, and threat to children?” Rebekah quizzed. “Is that the way you operate, Mr. Dover?”

“I believe Mrs. Gordon and I both know the doctor is capable of just that,” Dover suggested. “I will attempt to keep this something that must be proved in a court of law. I will resign if I cannot. The doctor, however, will not quit until he gets his way. That much I can assure you. However low you think of me for suggesting them, the courts will view the quality of child care and character of the ­mother as serious concerns, no matter who the attorney might be.”

“Mr. Dover, I'm sorry your practice is in such shape that you feel the need to have to work for such a man as Gordon. Under all this chicanery, I believe you're a good man. This is bringing out the worst in you.” Todd realized that he was no longer angry with the attorney. “I presume such a case would be tried here in Deadwood.”

“I believe the child resides in Omaha, so the trial will be in Nebraska,” Dover corrected.

“Your information is insufficient in that regard,” Rebekah declared. “Mrs. O'Neill and Amber live here in Deadwood with Abigail.”

“What?” Dr. Gordon called out from across the room.

“That's right,” Todd added, “they live in a home next to us up on Forest Hill. So the trial would have to be in Deadwood.”

“No matter,” Dover added. “However distasteful the subject matter, I will represent my client well.”

“Perhaps you'd like for me to introduce you to Judge Bennett. I believe I saw him out in the dining room. Judge Bennett believes in awarding all children in a custody case to the mother. He is a firm believer that even a poor mother is better than no mother. So, let's remove the threat of court action,” Todd continued. “Now, what do we have left?”

“Then I must appeal to your Christian charity,” Dover shrugged. “The doctor wishes only to go on with his life unhampered by the past.”

“There is no Christian grace in that woman,” Dr. Gordon ­shouted from across the room.

Abigail stood. Her hands quivered so violently that even clutching them together didn't quiet them. “Dr. Gordon knows very little about me and absolutely nothing about his daughter. As far as my faith in the Lord is concerned, it is all very new to me. But it is real. And here's the first proof of charity and trust in His leading. I will sign the quit claim.”

“You see,” Dr. Gordon shouted. “I told you threatening her would work.”

Dover wiped the sweat from his brow that was no longer so severely furrowed. “Thank-you, Mrs. Gordon. And I will prepare you a draft for ten thousand dollars,” Dover assured.

“Five thousand dollars,” Dr. Gordon called out. “I rescinded the ten-thousand-dollar offer after it was rejected the first time. She only gets five thousand dollars.”

Abigail shook her head. “Thank-you, Dr. Gordon, for that graphic reminder of why life with you was absolute hell. But, it ­doesn't matter what is offered. I will refuse any money. Only, I want it written in the contract that Amber is Dr. Gordon's oldest child. And when she reaches eighteen, she may decide for herself whether to pursue her rightful place in her father's estate.”

“Absolutely not!” Dr. Gordon shouted. “That's the whole purpose of this matter!”

Dover marched over to the doctor and mumbled some words. They both nodded, then Dover returned to the table. “We will accept your offer. I will have an agreement drafted by morning.”

“Undoubtedly you both feel that you can convince Amber otherwise when she is eighteen.” Abigail's tightly clasped fingers whitened under her grip. “But that will be her decision. And that is my whole point. She should decide, not you and me.”

Dacee June burst through the door, trailed by Amber, Quintin, and Fern. “Sorry to interrupt. Todd, Carty came up to the house and announced that Columbia's having her baby. Mrs. O'Neill went back with him and I said I'd look for Dr. Spencer.”

“Did you find him?” Rebekah asked.

“He's sick in bed. Everyone who ate at the Oyster Bay lunch counter turned up vomiting sick today. What are we going to do?”

“We'll go right over. You take the children home.” Then Todd turned to Gordon. “Doctor, your services are needed.”

“I am not practicing medicine in the Black Hills.”

“To the relief of everyone in this room.” Todd drew his gun. “However, today, you are going to assist a birth.”

“You are forcing me at gunpoint to deliver a baby?”

“I'll do whatever it takes, Gordon. It's Deadwood. Things are done different here. Columbia has had some complications and we are going to need professional assistance.”

“It will cost you a pretty penny.”

“That sounds like a fair price,” Abigail snapped.

“That was hyperbole. I charge at least twenty-five dollars to deliver a baby.”

“I changed my mind,” Abigail told Dover. “I'd like to have twenty-five dollars when I sign that quitclaim.”

“This is outrageous,” the doctor fumed as he paced the room. “What are those children doing staring at me? Make them quit staring at me!”

“I'll tell you what is outrageous.” Abigail choked the tears back. “That beautiful little girl in the violet dress is your daughter, and you had absolutely no idea who she was.”

If the entire earth did not rotate around the happenings at Quiet Jim's house in the Ingleside district of Deadwood, Dakota Territory, it was unknown to those inside. For two hours and thirty-six minutes no one in the house thought about revengeful hold-up men, impending business failure, restlessness, business executives, gold shipments, or who reigned as Raspberry Festival queen.

They didn't even think of the father, gun shot and paralyzed from the waist down.

But they did think of the mother.

Through pain, agony, and panic, James Jr. was brought into the world.

Mrs. O'Neill took care of baby Sarah.

Todd sat by the bedside . . . of Quiet Jim.

Rebekah and Abigail worked alongside Dr. Gordon.

Two minutes after he arrived, the doctor pulled off his coat, tossed his tie aside, rolled up his sleeves, and went to work. He spoke hardly a word. And for two hours Rebekah forgot about how much she despised him.

Her dark-blue dress was soaked with sweat. Her light-brown hair dangled from its combs. She waltzed into the room where Quiet Jim lay, Todd standing by his side.

“Well, Daddy, I thought you might like to see young Jimmy!” She swung the blanket-wrapped bundle around and laid him on the bed next to the smiling father. “Isn't that round red face about the cutest baby you ever saw? Todd, look at this little boy,” she sighed. “I believe he already looks like his daddy, don't you?”

Quiet Jim stared at the baby.

Todd reached down and laid his hand alongside the infant's head. Then he looked up at Rebekah.
There's mama in your eyes, Rebekah Fortune. I do believe we will have children soon, no matter where we live.
“Yep, he looks like his daddy. He's a treasure, that's for sure. Do we call him Quiet Jimmy?”

The baby whimpered and Rebekah snatched him up. “We can definitely call him Jimmy, but it remains to be seen whether he's quiet. So far, he's more like Uncle Yapper Jim.” Rebekah glanced at Todd, who seemed mesmerized by the baby.
I see your silly grin, Todd Fortune. I know what's in your mind. I'm thinking the same thing. I want one of these, Lord. Even after watching Columbia's agony, I want one of these and I want one right away. On second thought, perhaps in about eight and a half months would be fine.

“How's Columbia?” Quiet Jim asked.

“Tired. And she's bleeding a little,” Rebekah reported.

“I'd like to see her.”

“I think she's sleeping now. The doctor said the bleeding should cease in an hour or so. He also said this should be the last child for her. Of course, she scoffed at the idea,” Rebekah reported.

Quiet Jim looked down at his listless legs. “Two bullets might have answered that matter already.” He turned to Todd. “I need to go see Columbia.”

“You'll be getting better,” Todd encouraged. “By next fall you'll be out huntin' with those old men and making up more stories about the Black Hills.”

Quiet Jim pushed himself up on his elbows. “I don't care if you carry me, drag me, or throw me on the floor and let me crawl, but I want to see my Columbia. And I want to see her now.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

The dual rows of tiny pearl buttons ran straight as a plumb line up Rebekah's teal green dress as she raised up in reaction to Todd's news. “She just got off the stagecoach and announced that she was looking for a job as housekeeper and nanny?”

Todd hung his suit coat on a peg and whisked it down with a hickory handled brush. “Something like that.”

“Don't you think that's strange?”

“Quiet Jim thinks it's Providence.”

“Does she have any references?” Rebekah held the folded tea towel in front of her.

The aroma of strong coffee drew him to the pot on the cookstove. “Yes, but all her papers are from Boston, or the old country.”

Rebekah refolded the clean towel. “Ireland?”

“Katie O'Callum. How much more Irish do you want?” Todd poured the boiling coffee into a black ceramic mug with gold foil rim.

“It sounds too Irish.” She started to refold the towel again, but checked herself and tossed it down.

The coffee scalded the tip of Todd's tongue. He gulped it down and it burned his throat as well. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Look, a woman comes to Deadwood, marches into the lumber mill . . . not the hotel, mind you, but a lumber mill that happens to be owned by Quiet Jim . . . and offers her services as a housekeeper and nanny. And you encouraged them to hire her?”

Todd rubbed his squinting blue eyes. “She seems like a gift from God. It's hard to find domestic workers in a boomtown. Look how long you've been looking. She's exactly what they need and you know it.”

“And I say things don't happen that smoothly, even when the Lord's involved.” Rebekah poured her coffee into a thin china cup with purple violets painted on the side.

“I checked over there this morning, and the report is that Katie is doing wonderful.” Todd took another gulp and winced.

Rebekah diluted her coffee with several tablespoons of clean water. “And I say there is potential for real trouble. We'll stop by and check it out after church.”

“No, we won't.” Todd fastened the top button on his white shirt.

Rebekah felt her neck stiffen. “What do you mean, we won't?”

“We have a trip to take, remember?” He raised his light-brown eyebrows.

“A trip?” Her words came out like a spear, aptly thrown.

“To Rapid City.” He attempted to knot his short black tie. “I promised you a trip to Rapid City on Sunday, and we're going.”

Rebekah's white lace cuffs framed her thin waving hands. “But that was . . . before all this and . . .”

He leaned over and stuck out his neck. “You still want to go, don't you?”

She fidgeted with his tie. “Well, yes, but we can't go off now. What about those men on the prowl?”

Todd stepped back. “They are either halfway to Texas, with Seth Bullock on their tail, or they will circle back to town, still looking for Daddy Brazos. It wouldn't hurt for us to be gone. We'll spend the night in Rapid City. We can come home tomorrow after we've looked around.”

Rebekah prowled the kitchen looking for anything out of place. “Todd Fortune, I can't believe you'd desert your little sister to such uncertainty. There is no way I'm going off and leave Dacee June by herself.”

A sly Fortune grin crept over his face. “Lil' Sis is coming with us.”

“She is? Well, then this won't exactly be a quiet little respite.” She spun her wedding ring around on her finger.

“Oh, that's not all . . .” Todd refused to look her in the eyes. “Abigail, her mother, and Amber wanted to see Rapid City, so I invited them along.”

“You did? What kind of carriage did you rent?”

“Mert Hart's three-seater.”

“For the six of us?”

“Actually, there's eight. But Carty's bringing his new gelding and is going to be the outrider. I told him he could be the scout.”

“You said eight?”

“Thelma Speaker is coming along too.”

“You're kidding me!” Rebekah spun around so quickly that her dress flagged away from her. “This whole thing is a joke, right?”

“No. Thelma's been cooped up here in the gulch ever since Louise and Grass Edwards went to California. She offered to bring a box dinner for all of us. We'll leave straight from church.”

A fire of curiosity danced in her eyes. “Abigail's going to church?”

“She said she wasn't joking about what she told Dr. Gordon about her faith. She mentioned that you were going to teach her everything.”

“I can . . . tell her what I know.”

“Sounds like a spiritual opportunity.”

“You really think it's safe to travel?” she pressed.

“We can't let this bunch tell us how to live our lives. If we're hiding in the house every day, they've won already. We're going to Rapid City. I will live wisely, but I will not live in fear,” he declared. “At some point we have to trust the Lord.”

“But this trip is crazy. You don't even want to go to Rapid City,” she protested.

“I do now.”

“Where will we spend the night?”

“If there are no rooms, we'll camp out,” he said.

“In the rain? Those clouds look ready to drop.”

“It will be an adventure.”

“Todd Fortune, this sounds like something Daddy Brazos would do . . . not his sensible, clear-thinking, oldest son.”

“Rebekah Jacobson Fortune, I promised you a trip to Rapid City, and you're going to get it . . . whether you want it or not!”

“I had envisioned something a little . . . less hectic. I'll need to pack.”

“We can just brush out what we're wearing and head back tomorrow,” he suggested.

“Todd Fortune, I said I'll need to pack!”

Mert Hart's three-seat surrey had a top that was meant to keep the sun off the passengers. But halfway to Sturgis, it began to sprinkle. The leather top took on the role of rain barrier as well. Since there were no sides to the big carriage, those who sat windward soon got wet. Todd drove the rig, Rebekah beside him. In the middle seat were Thelma Speaker and Dacee June, right behind her brother. In the third seat were Mrs. O'Neill and Amber and Abigail Gordon.

Carty Toluca, his yellow oil cloth duster flapping in the storm, rode his bay gelding ahead of the rig. With Winchester '73 carbine across his lap, he gave his best impression of a frontier scout but looked more like a late entry in the kids Fourth of July parade.

“This sure is fun, Todd Fortune!” Dacee called out from the seat straight behind him. “I'm soaked!”

“Not much more water than a Presbyterian baptism,” he mumbled. “Besides, it's a warm rain.”

“It's not all that warm.” Rebekah added as she tugged a gray blanket with black stripe across her lap.

“I'm hungry,” Amber piped up from the back seat.

“We can eat anytime,” Thelma Speaker announced. “The food is all cooked.”

The cloud cover suppressed the noise of the carriage. The slightly muddy road took the clomp out of the horse's hooves. It was not wet enough yet for the gumbo to pack the iron rims of the wheels. Each voice sounded crisp, clear.

“I thought we were going to picnic?” Dacee June said.

“We aren't stopping in the rain,” Todd insisted.

“Perhaps we could just snack as we drive along?” Abigail suggested.

“There's an old deserted tollhouse at the top of Boulder Canyon. I thought we could pull off the road and drive up there,” Todd announced.

“It doesn't have a roof on it,” Dacee June replied.

Todd wiped rainwater off his forehead. “You're thinking about the one at Bullfrog Meadows.”

“I ought to know the difference between Bullfrog Meadows and Boulder Canyon Tollhouse,” Dacee June fussed.

“Carty!” Todd shouted to the young man on the wet bay horse. “Ride on up and see if we can take dinner at the old tollhouse.”

“It doesn't have a roof on it!” Dacee June repeated.

By the time Carty came back, Todd's wool trousers were damp. Most of the rest of the passengers had blankets up to their necks. It was a steady, light drizzle that seemed to seep into the dusty roadway but puddled up on faces and laps. Todd wiped the moisture off his goatee and eyebrows. “What did you find out?”

“It has a roof . . .”

“It does?” Dacee June sputtered. “But . . . but . . . well, maybe I was thinking of Bullfrog Meadow.”

“It has a roof, smoke in the stack, and three ponies saddled outside,” Carty announced.

“What are we going to do?” Rebekah asked.

“How about Redbud Cave?” Dacee June suggested.

The lead line to the team of horses was starting to soak up water from Todd's hand. “It's way off the road.”

“We're too wet to care,” Rebekah reminded him.

“I think I'm going to starve to death,” Amber murmured.

“Could we build a fire at that cave?” Abigail asked. “I need to dry out my dress a bit.”

Todd kept the rig moving at a walk. “That means it'll be almost dark when we get to Rapid City.”

“Why don't you send Carty to the cave to check it out before we drive too far off the main road?” Rebekah suggested.

Carty Toluca pushed back his soggy, drooping hat. “I . . . eh . . . don't really know where it is.”

“Well, I do,” Dacee June inserted. “You ride in the carriage, and I'll take your pony . . .”

Carty sat straight up in the saddle. “Oh no you don't. I ain't ridin' in the wagon with the women. I'm the scout on this here trip.”

Dacee June straightened her drooping straw hat. “Well, you're not much of a scout. You don't even know where to find Redbud Cave.”

“Dacee June, why don't you ride with Carty and check it out for us?” Todd suggested.

“You mean ride double?”

“Sure.”

“I'm not riding double with Carty Toluca.”

“Yeah, this horse is hot-blooded. He might buck a little too much for the inexperienced rider,” Carty asserted.

“Too hot for me? I can outride you any day, Carty Toluca. And everyone in this surrey knows it. Now, ride over here so I can climb aboard. Scoot back; I get the saddle.”

“You get the saddle? This horse is soaking wet. I've been keepin' the saddle dry myself.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“I cain't believe this. Are you sure this is the way Kit Carson got his start?”

“Carson, Cody, even Stuart Brannon had to scout doubled up with beautiful women,” Todd teased.

“Beautiful women?” Carty grumbled.

Dacee June stuck out her tongue and climbed aboard the bay horse from her position on the wagon. She straddled the saddle horn, both legs hanging down the off side.

They crested a muddy hill before Todd started up the carriage.

“Why does Dacee June treat Carty so pitiful?” Abigail called out from the backseat.

Todd leaned back. “Overexposure, I reckon. They've known each other too long. They just built a habit of tormenting one another.”

“That will be quite a ride,” Rebekah remarked.

The warm June rain picked up some. The blankets got heavier. Rebekah stared off at the low-hanging clouds.
This is crazy, Todd Fortune. I can't believe we're riding off into a summer squall. We should just turn around right now. You won't, of course. You're a Fortune. Fortune men are never wrong, so they can never quit and go home. It's your virtue and your vice. If a Fortune says we're going to have a picnic, were going to have a picnic . . . no matter what storm, tornado, or riled Sioux nation gets in our way.

Todd glanced to the middle seat. “Mrs. Speaker, are you all right?”

“Oh, my yes. This is a nice diversion. It reminds me of my first trip to Dakota when Dacee June, Jamie Sue, Louise, and I rode off across the prairie with a blackguard and a blizzard.”

“Sounds like you've had a life of adventure,” Mrs. O'Neill added. “All I do is sit around my boring little house and play hearts. Why, being tied up by those men the other night was the most exciting time of my life. Does that sort of thing happen often?”

“I should hope not!” Thelma chuckled. “But sometimes life in the gulch gets so turned in on itself we hardly remember what it's like to be anywhere else. That's when we need to get out and about. Louise and I used to take a lot of trips. That was before she married Mr. Edwards.” Thelma turned to the ladies in the backseat. “My sister married Professor Edwards. He's lecturing in California this month on Rocky Mountain weeds.”

“He sounds like quite a learned man,” Mrs. O'Neill replied.

“Self-educated, mainly . . . but he's written a definitive book. Robert Fortune's brother-in-law did the illustrations.”

Rebekah waved toward the muddy trail ahead. “Isn't that Dacee June . . . riding by herself?”

“Oh my, I trust she didn't do him in,” Thelma cautioned.