Beneath a Dakota Cross (18 page)

“Dacee June!” he scolded.

“Mother was right,” she announced.

“How's that?”

“She said you were very easy to tease.”

“She did, did she? What other things about me did she tell you?”

“She said if I ever found a boy who was like you, I should marry him on the spot, no matter how old I was.”

“Your mother said that?”

“Yes, she did.”

“Well, she was wrong.”

“She was?”

“Yep. I won't let you get married until you're at least . . . thirteen.”

“Daddy! I'll be thirteen in eleven months!”

“Good. That gives you almost a year to find someone just like me.”

“I don't know if I'll find anyone like you if I search my whole life!”

Brazos held the front door of the hotel open for her.
Oh, sweet Dacee June . . . you'll find him. And whenever it is, it will be way too soon.

As they walked in front of the Lakota Trading Post, Brazos spotted the March sisters inside. He and Dacee June slipped through the front door of the crowded store.

“Well, Miss Dacee June,” Louise called out. “I see you're taking your father for a stroll. That's very considerate of you.”

“Yes,” Dacee June giggled, “a gentlemen his age does need his daily constitutional.”

“I don't want to hear any more old man jokes,” Brazos cautioned. “Especially from two girls who attended Coryell County School at the same time I did.”

“Oh, my,” Thelma smiled, “but we were several grades behind you.”

“Not that many,” he reminded them.

“Yes,” Louise sighed, “our ages do seem to be getting closer over the years, don't they?”

Brazos ran his calloused finger along the new wool blankets stacked on the shelf in front of him. “What are you two doing in here? I thought you'd be booking passage on the steamboat.”

“We've already done that,” Louise told him.

“Are you going back down to St. Joe or all the way to St. Louis?” he asked.

Louise tugged on her tiny, single pearl earring. “We bought tickets for Bismarck.”

“Bismarck?” Brazos felt his chin drop. “You two are going north? What on earth for?”

“We understand it's a better place for a Black Hills departure.” Thelma's smile revealed a glimmer of why she had been selected Queen of the Coryell County Fair of 1849.

“Black Hills? You don't want to go to the hills!”

“Louise and I talked it over and decided that Deadwood City sounds like just the kind of place that needs a woman's influence,” Thelma announced.

“But there aren't any women in there!”

“Precisely. There will be plenty of work for us,” Louise concurred. “We can form a reading society, teach music, recite poetry, prepare Bible lessons for the children.”

“There aren't any children in Deadwood.”

“There will be at least one,” Dacee June reminded him.

“Well . . . well . . . it's just too dangerous . . . you two can't go into the hills. I won't allow it!” he puffed.

Louise looked over at Thelma with a sly grin. “Oh my . . . he won't allow it!” she snickered. “What shall we do about that?”

Thelma stared right at him. “Brazos Fortune, do you intend to marry either one of us before next Monday?”

“Do what?” he shouted, silencing most of the conversations in the store. “Eh . . . eh . . . of course not!”

“Well,” Thelma continued, “unless you happen to be a husband, I don't believe you have any say in where we go, or where we live.”

“No disrespect to your father intended,” Louise nodded at Dacee June.

“I think it would be great to have you live in Deadwood!” Dacee June bubbled. “Then I could come visit you when it was too cold for me to help Daddy dig for gold!”

“That settles it,” Thelma announced. “We're going to Deadwood City.”

“But you can't. How will you get there?”

“How is Dacee June going to get there?” Louise questioned.

“She's riding one of the freight wagons . . . at least, most of the way.”

“That will be nice. We'll ride on one, too,” Louise insisted.

“But it's too dangerous. You could get scalped,” Brazos said.

“So could Dacee June,” Thelma added.

“But you don't know how violent some men can be!”

“Yesterday was not exactly a church social.”

“But . . . but . . .”

“Oh, Father, you just can't control everyone's life,” Dacee June said. “I am lookin' forward to having the March sisters with us. They said they would teach me how to quilt, and make truffles, and help me memorize the works of Shakespeare.”

“I do believe you three are gangin' up on me,” Brazos complained.

Dacee June raised her thin eyebrows. “Did it work?”

“What choice do I have?”

“Smart man,” Louise said.

“Sarah Ruth always said Brazos was a very perceptive man,” Thelma quipped. “Of course, she did have him tied around her little finger.”

Brazos pulled off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair.
I'm going back to the gulch with Dacee June and the March sisters? We'll have to build another cabin. What will Big River and the Jims say to that? What will Grass say . . . Grass!
“I need to find Grass Edwards. Have you ladies seen him?”

Louise ran her finger along the shelf in front of her and examined the dust she collected. “Robert and that charming Miss Milan looked all over for him. Someone told them they thought Mr. Edwards returned to Bismarck.”

“Where is Robert?”

“He's with Miss Milan, of course. Don't they make a delightful couple?” Thelma gushed.

I'm not sure Grass Edwards will think so.
“Just where is the delightful, charming couple?”

Louise brushed the shelf dust off her glove. “On their way to Bismarck, of course.”

“Why?”

“To find Mr. Edwards and learn about Miss Milan's brother,” Dacee June explained. “Haven't you been listening? Robert said he would see us in Bismarck before we left for the Black Hills.”

I was only asleep a few hours. How did all this happen in so short of a time?
“When does the next boat leave for Bismarck?” he asked.

“Not until morning,” Louise informed.

“Tell us, Brazos, should we purchase supplies here or in Bismarck for the trip to the Black Hills?” Thelma pressed.

“You'll find more supplies at better prices in Bismarck,” he mumbled.

“In that case, we'll go see if we can find a decent cup of tea in this town,” she announced.

“Yes, indeed. Put that on our list,” Louise instructed her sister. “We should buy several pounds of tea in Bismarck.”

The two ladies strolled toward the front door of the store.

“I wonder if we'll be able to buy any orange pekoe?”

“Black Chinese tea,” Thelma added, “you know how I love black Chinese tea.”

“You didn't like it before you read that article about . . .” Their voices faded with the closing of the door.

“What are we going to do until morning?” Dacee June asked him.

“Right now we have to find Grass Edwards.”

“They said he went to Bismarck.”

“I know better than that. He has two very good reasons for waiting in Fort Pierre.”

“What are those?”

“He promised me he would, and Grass keeps his word. And second, because he thinks his sweet Jamie Sue is in Fort Pierre.”

“His sweet Jamie Sue? I didn't think they had ever met.”

“They haven't,” Brazos sighed.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Grass Edwards hovered at a round oak table at the back of the Heart of Dakota General Store and Grocery, studying a large sketchbook alongside a round-faced, sandy-haired man who wore a tattered suit and tie and gold-framed spectacles.

Both men looked up at the sound of Brazos's spurred boot heels striking the floor. When Grass spotted the young lady at his side, he stood up, as did the man next to him. His smile widened from ear to ear.

“Miss Dacee June! The pride of Coryell County!” Grass called out. “You cain't believe how relieved I am to see that you found your old decrepit Daddy. I was beginnin' to think he was lost on the prairie and I'd have to go find him.”

“Hi, Mr. Edwards. You look very handsome today. My daddy found me, actually!” she said. “He and Robert found us. But I was doing OK. I had a shotgun and six shells left.”

Grass stared at her from head to toe, shaking his head. “You look like you've grown a foot since I saw you last.”

Dacee June curtsied, then spun around slowly. “I am twelve years old now.”

“Are you married?” Grass quizzed with a grin.

“No . . . ” Dacee June tilted her chin slightly towards the ceiling. “But a boy on the boat was very interested in me.”

“He was?” Brazos expelled the words as if they had been caught in his throat.

Dacee June winked at Grass Edwards. “He's very protective, you know. I tease him like that just to keep his heartbeat at a healthy level.”

“He always was easy for you women to manipulate.”

Dacee June glanced down at the papers on the table. “Mr. Edwards, I haven't seen you for over three years. You were on your way to California, if I remember.”

Her presence seemed to put instant color in Grass Edwards's face and sparkle in his eyes, like an elixir to the spirit. “I went to see the elephant, Miss Dacee June. But your daddy couldn't get along without me, so I chucked it all and came back.”

She wrinkled her smooth, round nose. “Did you like California, Mr. Edwards?”

“Nope, Dacee June. It was horrible. Why, the weather was like springtime all year round, and all them ladies wanted to do was dance, and the fruit trees is so plentiful they jist beg you to eat some of it. I spent most of the time sittin' in the shade and sippin' on hot chocolate. It's horrible livin' like that all the time. I'm like your daddy. I figure a man needs to work himself sick, suffer a lot, and live in poverty if he really wants to be happy.”

She looked up at Brazos and back at Grass. “Mr. Edwards is taunting me.”

Brazos slipped his arm around her shoulder. “He's just a little touched, honey. That's what happens when you wade around in the Black Hills gulches too long.”

“Can we buy my new clothes now?” she asked.

Brazos released her shoulder. “Eh, I need to talk to Mr. Edwards a few minutes.”

“May I look for some on my own?”

“Yes, but don't leave the store.”

“May I buy a dress with short sleeves?”

“No, you certainly may not.”

She rocked forward on the toes of her lace-up shoes. “What kind of clothes can I buy?”

“Warm ones. It's going to be mighty cold in Deadwood.”

“Deadwood?” Grass choked out the word.

Dacee June skipped down the aisle of the store.

Brazos pushed his hat back. “Dacee June's coming with us.”

“Well, don't that beat all?” Grass brushed down the sides of his drooping mustache. “I know it's dangerous, but it surely will brighten up the place. I'm mighty glad you found her safe. You found Robert, too?”

“Yeah, we teamed up about a half a day west of here.” Brazos paused and looked away from Edwards's eyes. “In fact, Robert wanted to talk to you.”

“Well, send him over. I've been back here studying these illustrations most all the time you were gone.”

Brazos glanced down at a large, watercolor painting of a yellow flower. “That's a nice picture, mister.” He addressed the round-faced man with spectacles who had silently witnessed their conversation. “Did you paint it?”

“That ain't no anonymous flower,” Grass instructed. “That there's a
Viola nuttallii
.”

“It's a very good likeness. We saw a few of those on the prairie last spring. Grass, you'll never guess who else I met up with out on the prairie.”

“And you'll never in a thousand years guess who this here artist is!” Grass nodded to the sheepish young man who looked about twenty-five.

“Well,” Brazos mused, “you aren't nearly old enough to be the original Thomas Nuttall.” He reached out his hand to the man, “Howdy, I'm Brazos Fortune.”

The man enthusiastically shook Brazos's hand. “I'm glad to meet you. Mr. Edwards has told me quite a lot about you. I appreciate your letting me go back with you to Deadwood.”

“Go with us?”

“Yes, I want to work with Mr. Edwards to sketch all the plants of the Black Hills. I find it a unique opportunity to work with someone who has such great knowledge as he has.”

“Yep, that's Grass, all right.” Brazos glanced over at Edwards, who beamed with the pride of a father of a newborn child. “He's just a bundle of intellectual surprises. Why, you hang around with Grass long enough, and he's liable to name a weed after you.”

The young man's eyes widened. “Really?”

“By the way,” Brazos pressed, “I didn't catch your name.”

There was a wide, toothy grin. “Milan. I'm Vincent Milan.”

Brazos felt his carbine grow heavy in his left hand as his shoulders slumped.

“Yep, he's my sweet Jamie Sue's brother.” Grass tapped his fingers on the stack of illustrations. “He's a naturalist out here studying the prairie after finishing his schoolin' back east. Ain't that something?”

“But . . . but . . . what about . . . ?” Brazos stammered.

“That guy we met who claimed to be Vincent Milan? I reckon he was just an imposter, using Vince's name to set up an ambush. Probably stole the name off the handbill.”

The young man pulled off his spectacles and held them in front of his face. “I can assure you, Mr. Fortune, I have no connection to such blackguards.”

“Don't that beat all?” Grass grinned. “And him a naturalist? Why, Jamie Sue and me is just destined to be together. Vince and me teamed up, but couldn't find her in town.”

“She was with Dacee June. I brought her back with me,” Brazos announced. “Someone told her that Grass went back to Bismarck, so she took off to find him there.” He glanced over at Vincent Milan. “She had no idea that you were here.”

“She's actually lookin' for me?” Edwards pressed.

“I told her you could tell her about her brother, thinkin' that bushwacker was Vincent Milan. I didn't want to break that kind of news. Good thing I didn't.”

“Wait until she finds out I located Vince. This is even better than I planned,” Grass beamed. “Just like that there Bible verse of yours. The Lord has ‘thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.' That's the way I've been expectin' it to end up ever since I plucked up that notice along Lightnin' Creek.” He danced around the table. “Vince showed me a photograph of sweet Jamie Sue. Is she as purdy as her picture?”

“She's a very attractive young woman,” Brazos said.

“What did I tell you? I knew that from her notice. Yes, sir . . . I told ol' man Fortune, this is a beautiful woman. But he jist scoffed.” Grass stopped his prancing and spun around to face Brazos. “But I cain't believe you'd let her go north all by herself.”

“She didn't go by herself,” Brazos assured. “Robert escorted her.”

“Robert's your son?” Vincent Milan asked.

“My youngest boy. He's a sergeant in the cavalry.” Brazos could feel the penetrating stare of Grass Edwards's eyes, so he talked to Grass without looking at him. “And not only that—this will knock your hat off—the March sisters were with Dacee June, too, and they want to go to Deadwood, too!”

“What do you mean, Robert went with her?” Grass questioned.

“He needs to get back to Fort Abe Lincoln. You didn't want me to send her up there by herself, did you?”

“You knew I was in town,” Grass growled.

“No one could find you, partner. Don't worry, they're just pals. You know how young people are.” Brazos finally looked up at Edwards's eyes. “Now, what do you think Big River Frank and the Jims are going to say when we show up with Louise Driver and Thelma Speaker?”

Grass Edwards leaned forward and grabbed the canvas collar of Brazos's coat. “What do you mean, they're pals? He ain't known her for twenty-four hours, and I've been pining for her for months.”

Brazos shrugged. “You figure on shootin' me in town . . . or waitin' until we're out on the prairie?”

Vincent Milan's eyes widened and he stepped back from the table.

“If this turns out the way I fear,” Grass growled, “I'll probably do both.”

It snowed on Christmas Day in Deadwood.

Not a heavy, wet snow that sticks to your boots and soaks your clothes. It was light, dry, small-flaked snow that whipped down the gulch like driven sand and swirled like frigid dust devils. The silver bulb of mercury shivered on zero.

Brazos Fortune stood near the front door of the rough, wooden building at daylight and stared out the ice-fogged glass window along Main Street. The Ponderosa pine wood window casing still emitted an aroma of forest freshness. A lone figure appeared on the uncovered wooden sidewalk next door. A bundled man held his hat on his head and scurried to the next building. Brazos swung the door open for him.

Big River Frank slapped the snow off his coat and shivered his way over to the cast-iron stove in the far corner of the room. In his hand he carried a small package wrapped in brown paper that sported a tattered red ribbon.

“Mornin', Brazos. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Big River. Help yourself to some coffee. That's a genuine expensive blend all the way from Costa Rica.”

“Where's that?”

“Somewhere south of Mexico. I ordered it out of Chicago. Figured we needed something special for Christmas.”

Big River grasped the cup of coffee and plopped down on a crude chair that had been made from an empty nail barrel and slats. He gently set the package at his feet. “You ain't openin' the hardware store today, are you?”

“It's always open for you and the boys, you know that.”

“Ain't for me. I ran across them fellas who bought No. 29 Above Discovery, and they figure they can keep diggin' on the tunnel that French Albert and them others started. I think they wanted some bull steel and eight-pound sledges. I told them you wouldn't open on Christmas, but they might be by anyway.”

Brazos paced through the roomful of disorganized crates, barrels, half-empty gunny sacks, scattered tools, and parts. There were no shelves in the store. “You know, Big River, never in my life did I think I'd be a shopkeeper.”

Big River Frank sipped his coffee from a thick pottery mug. “It just kind of snuck up on ya.”

“When me and Grass and the ladies came back with that first load of freight, we needed a building to store it in while we peddled it off. I was figurin' just a cabin for me and Dacee June, but by the time the Jims got through carpenterin', I had this two-story building.”

Big River unbuttoned his wool coat and loosened the brand-new black silk bandanna around his neck. “Upstairs makes a good place for you and Miss Dacee June. She deserves the nicest place in town. Ever'one here knows that.”

“Well, we can't do placer work in the winter when the creek is frozen. So maybe being shopkeeper is as good as any way to winter.”

“Gives us a warm spot to sit, anyway,” Big River nodded. “And we ain't goin' broke.”

“We got us a budding boomtown, Big River. I've never been around anything like this. I'll probably sell out in the spring before it all goes bust. I've got to find me a better place than this dreary gulch to raise my girl.”

“It will be a whole bunch drearier if you cart off our Dacee June.” Big River ran his hand through his thick beard, which made his narrow face seem wider and took the emphasis off his soft, kind eyes. “You still searching for that special place the Lord's called you to? You still figure it's under that Dakota cross on Hook Reed's map?”

“It's for sure not here. I figure somewhere there'll be this big, old, tall mountain with a snow cross stretched down its flanks. There'll be a wide grass meadow flopped out in front of it with a nice stream of clear water. Not a gold creek that every bummer will tear up, no sir. It will be a beautiful place for a secluded ranch. I'll know it when I see it. And when I find it, I'll buy a patent deed and settle down.”

“It's a purdy dream. You reckon that's your dream . . . or the Lord's dream?”