Agnes and the Renegade (Men of Defiance) (27 page)

The men moved into the car around him, taking seats at the end of the car. “Make yourself at home, Chayton,” the big man told him. The only place Julian could stand straight was in the middle of the car. “If you sit with us, we can discuss your situation and do some planning. We’ll be in Denver in about four hours.”

After a few minutes, the women joined them, taking seats at the other end of the car. The men who operated the train called back and forth to each other in a strange tone with words that Chayton didn’t quite catch. And then the train pulled out, and the station grew smaller and more distant. Chayton got up and went to stand at the far window, watching his world recede at a mind-numbing speed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

It was fully dark by the time they pulled into their station in Denver. The children were sleepy and more subdued than when they boarded. Luggage was being unloaded at a rapid pace. A wagon and several black carriages were lined up, awaiting their arrival.
 

“Julian.” The big man’s wife came to them and slipped her arm through his. “Wasn’t it a surprise finding our neighbor in Defiance? And then to learn that the grandson she’s been looking for all these years was the very same man Logan’s been friendly with for so long! It’s sometimes a very small world.”

Julian bent to the side so that she could kiss his cheek. “Hm-mmm. A very small world.”

“Mr. McCaid, thank for your hospitality in sharing your railroad car with me and in seeing me safely returned to Denver.”

“Of course, Mrs. Burkholder.”

“Charles, let us take our leave.” She took hold of Chayton’s arm. He did not move.

“He’ll be staying with us, ma’am,” Logan told her.

“He has imposed on your largesse long enough, young man.”

“Nevertheless, while we hunt for his wife, it’s best if he stays with us so that he can participate in the search,” Julian said.

Mrs. Burkholder frowned as she stared at Julian. “Well then, if you feel that’s for the best, I will understand,” she said, turning to Chayton. “I expect you to call upon me in the morning. We have much to discuss—far more than the missing painter.”

“Until I have found my wife, I have nothing to discuss with anyone.”

Her brows lowered. “Charles Burkholder, you will visit me in the morning.”

“My name, old woman, is Chayton. If you wish to use an English version of my full name, you may call me Hawk That Watches. I will not answer to any other name.”

“Charles was the name of your grandfather. It is what I have decided to name you. It is the name your mother would have given you if she’d been allowed to live among her own people and marry her own kind.”

“My mother did live among her people.”

“Mrs. Burkholder,” Julian interrupted before she could dig in her heels further, “we’ll bring Chayton to see you tomorrow. Please, go with my wife now. I know that she’s as tired as you are, and we’ve yet to get the children settled.”

Audrey smiled at the older woman and reached for her, gently turning her away from the men. “Come along, Mrs. Burkholder. There is nothing as intractable as a man who has made up his mind. My husband will see that your grandson comes by tomorrow.”

“I invented intractable, Mrs. McCaid. My grandson hasn’t seen intractable yet.”
 

“No, of course not. But the worst of your troubles are over, don’t you think? You now know where he is. And he’ll come to see you tomorrow. Did you ever, in your wildest imaginings, picture that happening?”

“I had begun to lose hope, I confess…” Their voices began to fade into the noise of the street.

Chayton looked at Logan with a grimace. “I would rather scalp her than see her again.”

Logan laughed. “I know. But I’m not convinced she didn’t have a hand in Aggie’s disappearance—so you can’t dispense with her yet. And I didn’t want you to go home with her and run the risk of us losing track of you as well.”

Chayton watched the chaos on the street resolve itself as the children, an older woman, and a couple of the younger women who’d been waiting with the trunks boarded what Logan called the McCaid Omnibus—a long coach with several windows. The luggage and remaining servants were loaded onto a wagon. And the wives and his grandmother stepped into a black carriage similar to the one the men were using.
 

Chayton again sat next to the window and watched the buildings and roads and people of Denver as they moved away from the station and crowded buildings to streets lined with trees and manicured lawns. The brick construction gave the buildings such permanence that they couldn’t be burned down, or blown down, or simply abandoned so that the land could return to the hills and prairie it had been before the
wašíču
invaded it. He had seen it in its wild state when he was a child. That state was long gone. Much like his people. How could such a massive change happen within the lifetime of a man?

Agkhee was lost in this forest of buildings. How would he ever find her? “It is true, then, what you told me about this city, Logan.”

Silence met that comment. Julian was the one who answered him. “Denver is only one of tens of thousands of cities, all across the world. It is rare, in fact, to find so much undeveloped land as we find here in North America.”

Chayton returned his gaze to the world outside his window. They followed the other vehicles as they stopped first at Mrs. Burkholder’s mansion. He studied her sprawling home, at once curious about the structure and simultaneously dismissive of its regal situation—the very bones that gave it permanence. They drove a short distance down Sherman Street and pulled into the drive of another large mansion, this one built from red stone and lit with gas lights at strategic points along the circular drive leading up to the house. The wagon with the luggage disappeared around the back of the house while the omnibus and the two carriages stopped up in front.
 

People spilled out of the vehicles and milled about before walking up the paved path to the front steps. A uniformed man opened the large front door and stood aside to admit them. Yellow light spilled onto the front steps. Chayton followed the others into the house. The mayhem intensified for a few minutes as children were told to hug their fathers good night so that the women could put them to bed. Some of the older boys started up the stairs with quick waves, while the older maidens stayed behind to help with the younger children. Chayton wasn’t really certain which children belonged with which father.
 

White Bird came over to hug him. “I am the luckiest of all of us,
Até
.”

He smiled down at her and touched her soft cheek with his palm. “Why is that?”

“Because I have two fathers, and they are both with me here!” She pulled him down to kiss his cheek, then scurried up the stairs.
 

As fast as the noise had exploded, it receded, moving up the stairs and down a hall to some distant place. Chayton finally had a chance to breathe and look at his surroundings. The entranceway was wide and long. An intricately woven burgundy rug covered a large area of the floor. There was a room to his left that Logan called a “den.” It had several panels of bookshelves, heavy leather armchairs and sofa, an enormous desk, and another desk, slightly smaller, off to one side.
 

Across the hall to his right was a room set behind open pocket doors. It was painted in a warm rose color and featured floral wallpaper and furniture upholstered in emerald-green silk. He liked the colors of the room to the right, but the men entered the one on the left, so he followed them. He went to stand by the dark window and look out at the lights that sparkled across the town. The men made small talk among themselves, but he did not join in.

After a while, the uniformed man who had met them at the front door came to speak to Julian. “Sir, I have a light repast of sandwiches and fruit prepared. Shall I serve you in here, or would you like to eat in the dining room?”
 

“What are the women doing?”

“They are already in the dining room.”

“Ah. And you’ve fed the children?”

“Of course, sir. Their repast was awaiting them in the nursery when they arrived.”

“Then we’ll eat in here, Burns. Could you ask Sawyer to join us, please?”

“I’ll send him. And I’ll bring your supper right away, sir.” The man stepped into the hall and walked quietly away.
 

Chayton frowned at Logan. Why was a man serving them food?

A few minutes later, another man—this one wearing a brown wool suit and high-collared shirt—paused at the threshold. “Good evening, Mr. McCaid.”

“Mr. Sawyer, please come in. You know everyone here except for our new guest, Chayton. He is a warrior of some consequence in the Lakota tribe. It is his wife I asked you to help us track down.” Julian looked at Chayton. “This is my secretary, an extraordinarily capable young man. When Sager requested use of my house here in Denver, I was naturally curious about the situation that necessitated your visit. When I heard what had happened, I knew we would not be able to begin our search for another day, so I took the liberty of asking Mr. Sawyer to assist us.”

Chayton nodded to him. “Thank you.”

“Mr. Sawyer, if you would, please update us with your discoveries.”

“I’ve been to Miss Hamilton’s studio on Market Street. Only one of her neighbors has seen her since her return to Denver. Apparently, she had her paintings unloaded at her warehouse. Then, not an hour later, she had them reloaded with a different driver. She left with that driver and she has not returned. The neighbor never spoke to Miss Hamilton, so she doesn’t know any more details than that. As you requested, I checked with the police and the major hospitals. No one has seen a woman fitting Miss Hamilton’s description. I also checked in with the ticket offices at all four train stations. To their knowledge, she has not purchased a ticket out of Denver. I have scoured the newspapers for the last few days, searching for a gallery announcement or anything being reported that might involve your missing wife, sir.” He met Chayton’s gaze. “I have not been able to locate her.”
 

“Thank you, Mr. Sawyer. Why don’t you call it a night?” Julian suggested. “We’ll be needing your services rather intensely over the next few days.”

“Understood, Mr. McCaid. Mr. Chayton, I’m happy to assist in any way needed.” He gave Julian a quick nod then turned and left the room.

“That’s good news, Chayton,” Sager told him. “It means that wherever Aggie is, she went there on her own—and she’s likely still in town.”

Julian nodded. “Tomorrow, we’ll go to her studio and see if we can discover any clues that might provide some answers. I think you and Logan will visit your grandmother in the morning. If she had anything whatsoever to do with your wife’s disappearance, you might be able to ferret that out.”

Chayton looked around the room at the four men who had joined him on his quest to find his wife. They didn’t know him, but, perhaps through Logan, they knew of him—and yet they did not hesitate to offer their assistance. It was the same kind of generosity the men of his own people would have offered him.
 

“I am grateful for your help,” he told them.

Jace, the man with the ice-blue eyes, smiled. “We’ll find her,” he said, his voice raspy. “I’ve spent a lot of years tracking people. And Sager’s like a dog. He’ll track anything.”

“True enough.” Sager laughed. “I found your wife when she went missing.”

Chayton frowned. Burns returned with their sandwiches and glasses of water. “Your wife left you, too?” he asked when the butler left.

Jace nodded. “Those were dark days, my friend. I’ll tell you the story.”
 

Chayton sat on the floor cross-legged and listened to Jace recount the darkest few weeks of his life as he ate with the men. He liked Logan’s friends, he decided. They were honorable men, people he would be glad to call his own.

* * *

“Hey.”
 

Chayton looked up from the bed in the guestroom he’d been assigned to see Logan at his door.
 

“Got a minute?”
 

Chayton shook his head. “I do not know what that means.”

“Yeah.” Logan sighed. He came into the room and motioned for Chayton to move over. He sat on the bed next to him, both of them leaning against the headboard. “Remember when we first met?”

“When I almost killed you for stealing my horses?”

“I wasn’t stealing your horses. I’d heard rumors of the ancient pictographs on the valley walls and wanted to go find them. But yeah. Then. Remember how I didn’t know anything about the Lakota? You had to teach me things even Lakota children knew? Things like how to enter a tipi, and who smokes the pipe first and last, and what direction the pipe travels among a group of men?”

“I remember.”

“Remember that you didn’t laugh at me as I learned or the many times when I erred?”

“I did laugh. Now and then.”

Logan shrugged. “You never made me feel foolish.”

“It is not my place in life to make you less than you are.”

“You’re going to go through something similar here. The rules for social interaction in the white world are complex. They can take years to learn and master. Children spend ten or fifteen years learning them. Life at a remote ranch like mine or Sager’s can be casual, but here in the city, people tend to be more formal. Different rules apply. Your grandmother is going to expect you to know those rules. I wondered if you would allow me to address your situation with her? I don’t think she is well equipped to help you make the transition from your world into ours.”

“I do not mind. The woman is”—he paused, trying to find a way to say what he wanted in English—“like a grain of sand under my eyelid. She is not a pleasant experience.”

“She’s annoying. True. But she’s your grandmother. And I do think you, and White Bird, mean quite a lot to her.”

“She wishes to rename me.”

“When I was accepted into your village, I was given a different name, too.” For a minute, neither spoke. “You know my story. You know how long and how hard my father searched for Sager—and the toll that took on our family. I think it may have been the same for your grandmother.” He looked at Chayton. “Sager was an adolescent when he left the Shoshone. He knows something of how the things you’re going to have to learn will affect you. You might not know that Julian is the grandson of a Cherokee and a slave—a foundation that put him at a disadvantage in the white world.”