The Bride Wore Feathers (17 page)

Jacob was suddenly alone in what might as well have been a new world. Impulse and his survival instincts told him to flee, to run for cover in the cottonwood trees along the riverbank. Common sense told him to stay put. With a tremendous effort, Jacob willed his pulse to slow, then he shoved his hands in his pockets in an effort to still their sudden tremors. Forcing an expression of nonchalance, he glanced around at the town, searching for something, anything, that might bring him comfort or at least some sense of safety. A long seemingly endless row of buildings threatened him from across the street. All of them bore large hand-painted letters above their openings, but none of them made any sense or spelled a word he could understand. A group of horsemen rounded the corner, whooping and hollering as they galloped on by him, splattering his boots with mud in the bargain. Wagons and buggies bobbed along, crisscrossing the deep ruts in the road, adding to Jacob's confusion.

Then he noticed the sign above the doorway of one of the buildings. Although he couldn't make sense of the letters, Braun Mercantile, something about their shape and arrangement seemed familiar.

He decided to take a chance. Avoiding the mud puddles in earth still damp from the spring thaw, Jacob made his way across the street and stepped inside the large wooden store. The rich scent of leather goods and expensive fabrics greeted him, but he passed by the yard goods and piles of furs just purchased from trappers, and headed for the counter laden with sparkling glass jars.

He was staring at a jar containing something that looked like bees frozen in honey when the clerk said, "Kin I hep ya?"

Jacob snapped his head upward. "Ah, yes. Some of those."

"How much? A pound?"

Jacob offered his palms and shrugged. "Sure."

Using a big metal scoop, the clerk dug several pieces of the candy out of the jar and dropped them into a bag. "There ya go. A pound of horehound drops. Anything else?"

His eyes suddenly bright and childlike, Jacob nodded. "Some of those, and how about a pound of these, too." He made his way down the row as the clerk followed along filling bags with licorice, chocolate drops, and peppermint balls. He was eyeing some small cookies cut in the shape of stars when he bumped into another shopper. "Pardon me—"

"It's no—" Dominique stared into the deep blue of Jacob's eyes, caught for a moment by what she saw in them, stunned by the fact she could see
in
them at all. Usually shuttered, the windows to his soul were wide open, if only for a moment. She saw laughter, delight, wonder, and awe. She saw the child Jacob, the boy who'd never had a chance to live. Too soon he looked away.

"That be all, soldier?" the clerk asked.

"Yes." Jacob handed the man several coins, hoping he'd brought the correct amount of money, then accepted the bags.

Unable to resurrect her earlier anger, Dominique laughed as he collected his candy. "That's some sweet tooth you have, Private. Aren't you worried your teeth will fall out?"

Feeling awkward, embarrassed, Jacob took the change from the clerk's hand and fumbled for the right words, "I like these candy drops. My teeth, I don't know ..." Unable to finish the sentence, he gave her a sheepish grin and shrugged.

His candor and that odd look of innocence spread like a warm poultice across her breast. Dominique reached out and impulsively pressed her fingers against his broad shoulder. "Why, Jacob?" she blurted out. "Why did you ignore my note last week? Why did you ignore me?"

"Your note?" he said, acutely aware how near her hand was to that very object.

"Don't play the innocent with me, Private. I know you received it. You've had almost two weeks to explain yourself. Why didn't you at least send your regrets?"

He paused, going over the story he'd settled on during the ride, then wondered if the truth wouldn't serve just as well. But he said, "You mean the note was from you?"

"Of course it was from me. Can't you read?"

Any thoughts he'd entertained about telling the truth vanished at her words. Stiff and guarded again, he lied. "I never had the chance to read your letter. It seems Peaches likes you and anything you have touched a great deal. She ate it before I had the chance to open it."

"Peaches? Oh," she said laughing, "that's right. She did eat my hat. That means you didn't get a look at the contents?"

"No. Was the message important? I thought if it was, whoever sent the note would have come to me by now."

"Oh, yes, I suppose I should have checked back with you, but I've been so busy of late." Chagrined, Dominique let her words and feeble explanation die out. Not convinced that she owed him an apology, however, she waved a gloved hand. "Then I guess we've just had a little misunderstanding. The note contained an invitation to join me and my aunt in her parlor for an evening of music and refreshments. It's a pity you couldn't make it. We had a delightful time."

"I am sorry I missed it." He lifted the bag of horehound drops, but before he could offer one, Barney and Hazel approached them.

"Private." Barney greeted Jacob before turning to Dominique. "Have you finished your shopping, Miss DuBois? Hazel and I are thinking of going over to the Korner Kafe for some pie and coffee."

"I thought I'd look at the furs a little closer. Why don't you two run along? I can take care of myself."

"Oh, Dominique," Hazel clucked. "Bismarck is a very dangerous place for a young lady alone. I'm afraid you'll have to stay with us."

"I have no plans," Jacob said. "I will be happy to escort Miss DuBois around town and see that she is safe."

"Well... I don't know." Warming to the private, but not entirely certain he could be trusted, Hazel looked to Barney. "Do you think that will be all right?"

"I believe Private Stoltz can handle the assignment." Barney directed a narrowed eye at Jacob. "Captain Ruffing was right. Bismarck can be a little rowdy, son. Stay close to Miss DuBois and don't mention you're a soldier to anyone. Townsfolk, even the lowest of them, think we're on the same level as the savages we fight. Your duty today is to make certain the lady's reputation remains intact. And see that no harm comes to her, hear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, and make sure you stay away from Murderer's Gulch. No telling what kind of trouble you'll find there, but find it you will."

"Where is this street called Murderer's Gulch?" Jacob asked.

"Sorry, I keep forgetting you're not from around here. Fourth is the name of the street. It's nothing but saloons, gambling halls, and other places not fit for a lady's eyes."

"Or for a gentleman's either," Hazel tossed in.

"Right," Barney agreed, careful to avoid her gaze. "Or for a gentleman's. You ready to go, Hazel? I can smell them app—those apples from here."

Laughing, she looped her hand through the crook of his arm, and the pair strolled out of the store. Jacob stuffed the bags of candy onto his pockets, hoping when he came across Fourth Street he would be able to read the sign. When the bags were all tucked away but one, he offered it to Dominique. "Would you like some candy before you shop?"

Intrigued by Barney's description of Murderer's Gulch, she shook her head. "No, thanks. And if you don't mind, I'd rather go outside and take a walk around town. I'm tired of being trapped inside, and there really isn't anything else I have to buy right this minute. We have the rest of the day."

"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.