Fireblossom (11 page)

Chapter 6

July 17, 1876

"Madeleine Avery, what are you doing?" Susan stood at the foot of the stairs, drying her hands on a dishtowel. "You can't hide up there reading all the time!"

Maddie appeared and descended with a book in her hand. "I've finished
The Count of Monte Cristo,
Gramma. Such a witty, sophisticated adventure—and in
France!"
She paused on the last step to sigh, beaming. "It was the perfect escape from this horrid wilderness. And now I shall begin
The Scarlet Letter,
as soon as I can locate it among the books still packed in the trunk. How I wish for real bookshelves!"

"The Scarlet Letter
should certainly cheer you up," Susan remarked, with pronounced irony. "What's that book in your hand?"

Maddie held it up to display the title:
The Lady's Guide to Perfect Gentility.
"It was Mother's. She gave it to me to refine my manners."

Shaking her head, Susan took the volume and opened it. "Conversing with Fluency and Propriety," she read aloud. "How terribly boring. Let's go into the kitchen, where I have more interesting activities in progress."

Maddie followed her grandmother, protesting, "It's been very helpful for me to read portions of this book again. For example, I knew that I should not allow myself to fall into the habit of calling Mr. Daniel by his Christian name, that it was wrong, but I acquiesced because that is how everyone seems to address him. This book reminds me that such practices open the way to unpleasant familiarities... much more so than one might imagine."

"Unpleasant?" Susan echoed, baffled. "If you can bear to hear my opinion, I would say that
book
is unpleasant! Honestly, Maddie darling, why do you allow yourself to be taken in by such life-choking notions?"

The kitchen was hot but colorful and fragrant with the odors of fresh-baked potato bread and apple cobbler. Susan, who had been born into wealth and had become wealthier still during her marriage to Patrick O'Hara, had always believed that money meant freedom—in this case freedom to buy what she wanted in spite of the exorbitant Deadwood prices. Today, that meant paying sixty cents for a pound of butter, seventy-five cents for a dozen eggs, a dollar for a large roasting chicken, and thirty cents for a pound of fresh cheese.

"I thought we might take a picnic basket to Fox and Titus," she explained, gesturing toward the still-warm peas and the carved chicken, which had been basted with herbs and butter while it roasted. "The cabin is coming along quite nicely, but it's such hot, exhausting work."

Maddie looked away. In the past few days she had done everything in her power to push all thoughts of Fox from her mind. But it was no use. During the day, lying on her bed and reading compulsively, she often imagined that she could feel him staring at her open window—that if she were to rise and look through the fluttering curtains, she would see him standing on the other side of the row of pine trees, eyes shaded as he gazed right through the walls of her home. At night he haunted her dreams.

"Who is
Titus?" she murmured to her grandmother, wandering over to inspect the cobbler.

"Oh, he's a lovely fellow from Cornwall who is helping Fox. I never dreamed that there were so many different nationalities way out here in Dakota Territory, but it seems that the lure of gold attracts people from all over the world." As she spoke, Susan began assembling the picnic lunch. "Here, darling. Let's just spoon the peas into this jar with a lid and the men can pour out what they want."

"Gramma Susan," Maddie began hesitantly, "what do you think about the Indians? I mean, aren't we all trespassing on their land, strictly speaking? According to your great friend Garnet Loomis, they're savages who didn't know how to use the Black Hills or the rest of the frontier. Yet one can't help feeling a bit uneasy about the way we've simply shoved them aside...."

Susan gave her a look. "You needn't refer to Garnet as my 'great friend' in that tone, Maddie. I respect any person who is unapologetically genuine, but that does not mean that I agree with all her views." She brushed back a stray wisp of white hair. "I confess that I'm rather confused about the Indians myself and I mean to learn more. Ignorance and fear form the basis of prejudice, and I think that white people have rushed to judgment. We can't help wanting this wonderful land for ourselves, so we've justified taking it by deciding that the Indians are less human than we are.'" Susan pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Well, I mean to meet some Indians one day and form my own opinions."

Her granddaughter could think of no response to this speech, which was extraordinary for a Philadelphia matron of advanced years.

Everything was ready; two large baskets with handles were filled with food and bottles of water and ale. Fixing her attention on these items, Maddie took a step backward. "Well, I'd better return to my search for
The Scarlet Letter...."

Susan laughed. "Don't be silly. Are you so afraid of Fox that you would make a frail old woman carry these baskets all alone? Why, I could fall and strike my head and—"

"I am not
afraid
of him," Maddie interjected hotly.

"Let's simply do what needs to be done." Susan pointed at the bigger basket. "You're young and strong. Lead the way."

Maddie lifted the willow basket and walked toward the door, her heart sinking. Whatever happened, there must never again be a repetition of the shocking scene that had occurred with Fox in the Avery parlor. Quickly she took inventory. Her striped muslin gown was high-necked but cool, and it covered her sufficiently. Her hair was appropriately pinned up in a chignon at the nape of her neck. No jewelry or other unnecessary decorations would lead Fox to believe she was trying to attract him. If he would actually be living in a house next to theirs, she must make her position crystal clear.

Affecting a lighthearted attitude, she walked with Gramma Susan between the pine trees that divided the two lots. For some reason she expected to find him toiling over a pile of rough-hewn logs, attempting to construct a crude little cabin like those she'd seen being thrown up on Main Street. Instead, the sight that met her eyes caused her to stop, staring in surprise.

The parcel of land, which had recently been overrun with Stephen Avery's miners, was now smooth and flat. Beautifully cut long logs and smooth planks were stacked near the house, which appeared to be about half-finished. It
was
a log cabin, but unlike any other Maddie had seen. The frame was at least thirty-five feet across the front and twenty feet wide, and the logs were squared and fit neatly together. Two fireplaces and chimneys made of rubble stone laid in lime mortar stood tall at each end of the house. Fox, Wang Chee, and a little man Maddie took to be Titus were setting a log in place on the east side of the cabin that brought the building nearly even with Fox's chest.

As the women drew nearer, Wang Chee looked up. Noticing the smile that spread over his friend's face, Fox wiped his brow and glanced back to meet Maddie's eyes. The sight of her pierced his soul and he was shocked by his reaction.

"Uh-oh," Titus Pym whispered, with a bemused smile. "I've never seen you speechless before, lad."

The Cornishman's words brought Fox rudely back to reality. "Sorry." He gave Titus a sheepish grin. "Just tired, I guess. Hello, Mrs. O'Hara, Miss Avery," he called, smiling politely. "Before I inquire about those baskets you're carrying, I should introduce you to Titus Pym, who is helping me build the cabin."

"We met the day before yesterday," Susan said, leading the way inside the partially built dwelling.

"Of course. How could I have forgotten?" Fox felt a certain loss of control. He made Titus and Maddie known to each other, then turned his attention to Maddie's evident surprise as she gazed around the cabin. "You look shocked. Did you expect a lean-to?"

"Well, no, of course, not, but I must admit that I am impressed. You have obviously built this cabin with great care, which I admire... and I didn't expect it to be so large, so much like a—a—"

"Home?" he supplied helpfully.

"It does have a look of permanence."

"I like to be comfortable."

"I say, Bravo!" cried Susan. "How fortunate for us that you encountered Benjamin on that day less than a fortnight ago and brought him home to us! Now we'll have the best possible neighbor, particularly since my son-in-law is rarely in Deadwood. I hate to admit weakness, but there are times when women need the assistance of a man."

"And I am at your service, Mrs. O'Hara. Whether the problem is a snake in your kitchen or a heavy piece of furniture that needs moving, you need look no farther than your nearest neighbor." Fox smiled down at her as he spoke, charming her with the easy familiarity of a loving grandson. He began to peek under the linen towels that covered the baskets of food.

Susan slapped lightly at his hand, laughing, and soon cloths were being laid out on the fresh-cut pine planks that formed the floor. With the vivid blue sky overhead, the smell of sawdust mingling with chicken and fresh bread and cobbler, and the exaggerated cries of astonishment the men uttered as the picnic was spread before them, it began to seem like a party. Feeling awkward and out of place, Maddie stepped backward as the others settled themselves on the floor, beaming. Fox brought in a wooden crate for Susan, who perched on it and began calling out descriptions of the food.

"Will you be rash and sit on the floor with the heathens, or shall I find a seat for you, too?" Fox whispered in Maddie's ear.

"I really shouldn't stay." She couldn't meet his keen gaze. "I mean, Benjamin will be coming home and looking for his lunch, and he won't know where we've gone..."

"Oh, Ben's been with us all day. He likes to help. He should be back directly."

Every time he called her brother "Ben," Maddie cringed. "Well, where on earth is
Benjamin
now?"

"I sent him to town to buy me a new chisel. He thought he saw some sort of commotion down on Sherman Street and obviously wanted to investigate, so I gave him a legitimate errand." Fox grinned and turned away to join the others. "I'm starved," he added over his shoulder, and left her there.

Sighing, Maddie went to join them. The three men had been gulping water and now filled their glasses with ale. Titus Pym was in raptures over the fresh peas. "Many's the day I make do with little more than a sack of roasted peanuts, some jerky, and mayhap a cup of thin soup and a bite of bread."

For long minutes they all ate happily, sometimes attempting to exclaim something with full mouths. When at last they began to slow down, Susan scooped portions of apple cobbler onto their plates. Titus, proving himself to be both high-spirited and verbose, shared his recipe for a Cornish pastie, which Susan promised to make. Then he went on to tell about his "pard," Henry, who had made the journey with him from Cornwall. It was Henry's habit to fry bacon in a pan in the morning, then use that same pan as a tool to seek gold after breakfast. He called it his lucky pan and always found enough gold dust to buy more bacon for breakfast. Then, one afternoon in May, Henry had discovered a fortune's worth of nuggets in his frying pan. To Pym's dismay, his friend had taken his new wealth and returned to England without delay.

"I was happy for 'im," Titus said, waxing reflective, "but couldn't help feeling a trifle sorry for meself, if you take my meaning. Not only was I all alone in a strange country, but Henry didn't even think to leave me the frying pan." He scratched his pointy sunburned nose and grinned. "I was beginning to feel right despondent when along comes me
new
pard, Fox, and now I have a reason to get up in the morning again. Life's bloody grand, don't you think?"

Maddie felt her heart warming toward the Cornish miner. The mood of conviviality in Fox's half-built cabin was contagious, and when she heard herself laugh aloud, she checked herself instinctively and stood up as if to leave. Fox gave her a quick, perceptive glance.

"Why," he whispered, "are you afraid of pleasure?"

She turned, their faces inches apart, eyes meeting in a way that frayed her nerves. Faintly Maddie could detect the scent of ale and fresh, fragrant food on his warm breath. "You misread me, sir, and make yourself too important. My reasons for departure are unrelated to you or this gathering." She was proud of her cool, precise words. "There are other matters to which I must attend."

"Ah." Fox's eyes crinkled gently at the corners. "Have you secrets, Miss Avery?"

"Hardly. I want to work a bit in my garden before the afternoon grows too hot."

"Your
garden
?" His brows flew up."Didn't you arrive in Deadwood too late in the season to plant vegetables?"

"I hope to grow vegetables next spring, if we are still here, but for now I have had to content myself with a flower garden. I brought the seeds from my mother's garden in Philadelphia and have done my best to re-create hers, on a more limited scale, of course."