The Outlaw's Kiss (an Old West Romance) (Wild West Brides) (11 page)

“Yes, but who taught you all this,” I asked. “And
why are you telling me?”

“Well, little girl, I’m telling you because I like
you. I see a whole lot of me behind those eyes. Thirty years, and a whole lot
of men ago, sure,” he paused to laugh, then catch her breath. “But I see me in
you. As to who I learnt from, well you was standing underneath him not a minute
ago. Go on and get you some rest, girl. You’ll figure it out.”

Moments later, I was alone.
Alone.
The word
rolled around in my mind like a jagged chunk of ore.
Alone in Deadwood. All
alone.
I looked to Star & Bullock, hoping maybe Mr. Star was in to
escort me home, but then I remembered his going off with Father after we ate.

The road back home was only a short one to walk,
but a short road never felt so long in all my life.

September 23, 1878

Dakota Hills, Deadwood Territory

––––––––

T
he sun came up hours before, but the world just
seemed faded, a little gray, even with light was streaming through the window.

“Clara, darling? You feeling all right?”

Oh, sweet father, how can I possibly explain
this? I know you and mother had your times of sadness, your ups and downs, but
did you ever have to see her get dragged to jail? Have a screaming match with
someone in the middle of the street?

“Clara? You’ve been awfully quiet this morning,
just checking on you.” He knocked again.

Rolling over, I stared at the doorknob for a
moment. “I’m fine,” I said weakly. “Sorry for not getting your coffee ready.”

“Oh come on, don’t worry about something like
that. I can make my own coffee and warm my own biscuits. Want to go to the
claim with me today? I know you’ve got a lot of things tumbling around in that
head of yours, but maybe some old-fashioned labor would help work them out?”

I groaned, a little louder than I meant to as I
sat up on the edge of the bed.

“Or can I at least come in and talk with you? I
hate to see my only daughter poorly like this.”

“Come in Father, though I’m not entirely decent.”

He pushed open the door. “I changed your diapers,
Clara, seeing you in a nightgown isn’t something that worries me.” His voice
was soft with concern. Father’s hand on my cheek felt good. Calming and
soothing.

As soon as he sat, I reclined sideways and let my
head thump against his shoulder.

“It’s just some confusion. I spoke with Mr.
Bullock last night when I came back to town and he told me all that happened.
He also said – and this is what you mightn’t know – that Eli was being held
more for his own safety than anything else?”

“Oh? And how is that, father? How is an innocent
man being held in jail for his own good? That seems to run counter to
everything I know about justice.” My voice was sharper than intended, but from
the way he looked at me, I knew father understood.

“The nature of the allegation is,” he paused and
swallowed, “well, it’s serious Clara, but you knew that. It’s also a load of
cow-flop, which is what the colorful Mr. Bullock called the charge. But he’s
also a territorial sheriff, and has to answer the law, so you shouldn’t be
cross with him. He remained silent for a moment with his palm warming my
shoulder. “But, as far as Eli’s safety goes. The people of this camp are quite
hostile to the Sioux, though the Sioux have only raided intermittently, and
only when they had a good reason. Seth told me this last raid occurred after a
Sioux woman was killed.”

“That’s terrible, I can’t –”

“There’s more. The man he described as leading it
was none other than Itan, if you’ll remember him.”

Suddenly, it all made sense. Not only had Mr.
Rawls made up a story to get his revenge, he didn’t have to stretch very far
for credibility. “That is most convenient for a story, indeed,” I said. “But
something else is bothering me, aside from his arrest. I was quite shocked by
the way Eli reacted. With the shouting, and trying to fight off Seth, Eli made
quite a show of himself. I didn’t think him to be that sort of man.”

“I don’t know about all that. From the way it was
explained to me, the whole thing was a shock to Eli. He of course didn’t expect
to be arrested, but he also felt that the sheriff, who he’s been friendly with
for some time, betrayed his friendship.”

“I suppose I can understand.” I wanted to say that
he
did
expect to be arrested, or to run from town pending such, but my
mouth seemed better shut. Mr. Swearengen’s lesson in silence began to sink in
as soon as Gretchen taught it.

Father nodded. “But it’s not all bad. The Sheriff
told me that tempers in this camp, as you might have noticed, are quick to
flare and then equally quick to recede. He expects that not a week will pass
before some other dramatic tragedy – a duel in the street, a drunken melee out
front of the Gem, an outbreak of the pox – will become the new excitement.”

I gasped. “Pox? Father, don’t speak like that. Pox
isn’t some sort of news story. If that broke out here, we’d be –”

My father waved his hand. “I was just listing
things that could take the camp’s imagination. Pox won’t break out. More likely
some new brothel owner will stroll into town, or some new mining crew will find
a grand claim or a lode. George Hearst is planning to move in as soon as his
secretive prospectors find something worth his time, after all.”

Nodding, I watched Father stand from the bed and
fish a briar pipe from one of his many pockets, and fill it with shredded
tobacco. “Since when do you smoke?”

“Mr. Bullock offered me a pipe last night. It’s
more pleasant than I’d realized. I’m still not quite accomplished with the act
of maintaining it, however.” He struck a match and blew through the stem,
putting it out instead of lighting his bowl. “See?”

“I believe you’re supposed to suck inwards,” I
giggled softly, and knew why he’d done it. “Thank you. I needed a bit of
relief. And yes, let’s go to the claim. Getting a bit dirty and wet seems like
it would be just the thing to take my mind off this awful business.”

My nearest wardrobe was still open from last
night. No sooner had I collected a pile of clothes I thought suitable for labor
when Father stopped me with a pair of waders folded over his arm.

“You’ll need these if you expect to get in the
river.” Apparently sensing my apprehension, he laughed. “Don’t worry about your
propriety in the face of all these wild miners. They’re special made to contain
skirts. Mr. Star said there are a number of women who work claims, and this is
what they use. Now get dressed, I’ll wait down stairs.”

As the door closed behind him, I couldn’t help but
smile despite recent events. A trip to the claim promised fresh air and
exercise. Besides, if what father said was true, Eli wasn’t long for jail. He’d
be keeping that promise he made before long.

After dressing and tying up all my strings, I made
sure to collect my journal before heading out. Seemed better to be with it than
without, as I never quite knew when it might come in handy.

*

“I
f this were New York, this water would be warm!
It’s freezing!” I bent down, scooped up my pan of ice-cold creek water,
sediment and – hopefully – gold dust and shook it. Slowly, back and forth,
letting all the little specks fall through the screen just like father showed
me. The gentle tug of current swirling around my rubber-clad ankles was gentle,
but just strong enough that I had to concentrate to keep my footing, especially
since all I had for a surface were ancient, smooth-as-glass river stones.

“If this were New York, the sky would be gray and
we couldn’t go outside during the afternoon when the factories started belching
soot.” Father said, emerging from the trees nearby with a pipe, lit this time,
bobbling in his mouth. He had a grin on his face that spoke volumes.

My thoughts turned to Eli for the first time since
morning, and I thought perhaps I could get used to the simplicity of such a
life.

Especially if I had my Eli, I thought. A life on
the range, in the hills, on the road between towns was nothing like I’d been
brought up to expect, but in a way, it is what I always wanted, though I might
not have known it, exactly.

“Do you miss home?” I asked, out of nowhere. I
hadn’t so much as
considered
New York in quite some time. Feeling the
need to expand, I quickly added, “our big apartments, and the bustle of the
bank and so on.”

Father drew on his pipe and then pushed it to the
other side of his mouth. “No,” he said. “I’ve wanted to leave it behind for
longer than I care to admit. Watch your pan, there, gold miner.”

My entire box flooded while I’d stood there
staring at the tiny eddies around my ankles. “Oh! I can’t believe I made such a
mess of it!”

“Ha! Don’t worry about it. That’s one of the good
things about this. You might have lost some nuggets in that river, but you know
what? Scoop ‘em up again. They didn’t go anywhere. Nature – this place
surrounding us – it makes me feel rather small.”

“Huh,” I grunted, considering his words as I bent
and refilled my pan. “Small? That’s a good thing?”

Father stepped into the creek, not even wearing
his waders. His trousers instantly sucked up the chill water, but it didn’t
seem to bother him any at all. “Here,” he grabbed my pan and tossed it down on
the ground a few feet from where we stood. “Don’t worry about it. There’s
plenty more. Look up, Clara. Look at this. See that sun?”

Light trickled around me in droplets that bounced
off the water. Amber pools filtered through the rustling leaves. It was all so
gentle, all so slow. The warmth of the early afternoon moved through my skin,
warming me to my very bones, to the core of my being. Even though I spent every
night looking at the stars above with wonderment, this was probably the first
time I’d done so in the daytime. I opened my mouth to say something, but when a
breeze cooled my tongue gently, nothing came to mind.

“Exactly,” Father said. “Exactly. Why bother
trying to put it to words? Three miles in that direction,” he pointed east with
his pipe stem, “there’s a mine going up. Or down, I suppose. No one’s supposed
to know about it, because George Hearst keeps things quiet.”

“But then how do
you
know about it?”

“Davis told me. Yesterday morning. Says the reason
he always gets started late in the morning is because he takes a long ride
around the whole place every day, making note of anything that changes.” He
kicked a rock that bounced along the others before settling just this side of
too far to see. “And I can see from your pinched up nose that you’re wondering
what’s to be done about it.”

I pursed my lips. “That, and I’m sorry, but I
forgot who Davis was. So many new names, new faces.”

He laughed, “Clark. Davis Clark, the miner down
the way.”

I nodded, remembering the man’s friendly smile.
“What
is
to be done then? A Hearst mine would be hard to compete
against.”

“Nothing. Nothing’s to be done. George Hearst
controls an empire that’s richer than anyone you or I have ever come across.
Can’t change what he’s doing any more than we can change the way this river
flows.” He sucked his pipe again and fell silent for a few moments. “But you
know what else? Not even Hearst can change the way this river flows. That’s
what Mr. Clark said.”

I took a long, slow, breath that filled my lungs
and held it in. “I’m worried about Eli,” I finally admitted. “I’ve never,” I quieted
and wrung my hands. “Never felt like this about anyone before.”

“I know,” Father said. “I can see it in your eyes.
The way you look at him – and more than that, those half-dumb puppy dog eyes he
gets when he looks at you. It reminds me of us. I mean, of me and your mother.”
His eyes misted up and I had to look away, but he grabbed my hand and squeezed.
“You asked if I missed New York. No, I don’t. Everything I need is right here
with me.”

It was my turn to let my emotions overwhelm me. It
all came out at once – Eli’s being arrested, being taken so far from home, the
shock of all of this newness, whatever was wrong with the bank, and then when
my thoughts turned to the mother I never knew, I didn’t have a chance. Without
a word, father pulled me close and held me against his chest.

“What’s that?” My arm hit something that crinkled.
I looked up at Father with red eyes. “I’ve been honest with you, have I not?”

He nodded. “It’s nothing, Clara, really – it’s
nothing for you to worry about.”

“If
you
are worried about something then it
isn’t nothing, father. It’s about the bank, isn’t it? Another telegram from
Francis?”

Still holding me with one arm, he reached into his
coat with the other and pulled out the folded paper. “I was going to tell you
when I thought the time was right, because it does affect you, your
inheritance, everything else.”

“I don’t care one whit for my inheritance,” I
said, offended that the first thing he addressed was money, though I knew he
didn’t mean it that way. “I care about my father and his well-being.”

He took his long-extinguished pipe and stuck it in
his pocket, still holding the telegram between his fingers.

“Now, before you read this, I want you to know a
few things. First, there is still plenty of time. Second, I meant what I said –
everything that really matters to me is right here at hand.” He handed over the
paper, though tentatively.

“
Mr. James The bank is insolvent
Colorado-Pacific line was a fraud from the start Bank
has six months of liquid assets and then is busted If
you have an ace up your sleeve now is the time to play it transmission>
”

My hands trembled uncontrollably, shaking the
paper so violently that it rustled just like the leaves. “Father, this says the
bank is going broke? I thought you said there was nothing to worry about?” I
turned to face him and grabbed his lapel. “This isn’t
nothing
, father!
Your whole life is wrapped up in that bank! It’s just going to vanish over a
fraudulent investment.” It took me a moment to collect myself.