Fireblossom (47 page)

"Yes, yes. Go on!"

"Titus went into the Grand Central Hotel and hung around long enough to chat with some of General Crook's staff. I had heard that Crook had managed to stir up a fight near Slim Buttes, and I wanted to learn the truth of it rather than the drunken rumors that spread through the badlands." Untying the blue kerchief, Fox rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "Someone even claimed that Crazy Horse had been killed, but that's not so... although others did die in the fighting a few days ago."

Maddie's eyes stung with hot tears. "Oh, Fox, there were so few of the Lakota still free. Why couldn't they be left in peace?"

"We knew that it would come to this—that all of them must either go to the agency or be killed. And, of course, Crazy Horse incites the army by those raids into the Hills. You and I may understand why he does it, but his continued rebellion just drives men like Crook around the bend."

"Tell me what happened."

They began to walk slowly toward their house. "From what Titus was able to learn," he explained, "the saddest part of this story is that the village Crook attacked was made up of Indians who had left Crazy Horse's people the day before and were on their way south to the agency."

"Dear God." Maddie stopped, her expression one of horror and sadness. " How many—"

"I don't know. Titus heard that there were thirty-seven tipis burned. Apparently the soldiers that attacked were part of an expedition Crook had sent to the Hills for supplies led by a Colonel Mills. The troops were near death from starvation, so after they drove the Lakota people out of the village and into the bluffs, they feasted on the meat they found there. Meanwhile, the Indians sent runners for Crazy Horse. He came with a couple hundred warriors and attacked, but there were more soldiers—and then Crook arrived with close to two thousand troops and Crazy Horse was forced to retreat." Fox's voice was raw. He squeezed Maddie's hand before continuing, "I can only imagine what Crazy Horse felt as he watched Crook's men burn the village. The only bright spot in all this is the report that Crazy Horse kept up a constant harassing action directed at Crook's rear flank all through the next day, until the army was well into the Hills. These troops can't figure out how the Indians got ahold of so many rifles...." Fox's brow arched with bittersweet satisfaction. "Unfortunately, there just weren't quite enough."

"Do they know how many Lakota people were killed?" Maddie asked softly.

He shook his head. "The killed and wounded are always borne from the battlefield, even when the other warriors place themselves at risk to do so." Gently Fox caressed her cheek. " Crook was said to have lost twenty men... and of course, his troops claim that Crazy Horse lost many times that number, but we shall pray that the outcome was different."

As they opened the door to their house and entered, neither Maddie nor Fox saw Sun Smile. She was pressed to the back side of one of the pine trees that stood between the log house and the steep hillside overlooking Deadwood, her skirts gathered close about her so that she wouldn't be seen, Sun Smile wept silently for the ravaged remains of the Lakota nation. She understood far more than anyone knew, and her grief and determination remained undimmed despite the adjustments she had been forced to make to the white way of life.

These people cared for her, Sun Smile knew, especially her father, but they could never fully understand her. The grief she continued to suffer over the murder of her husband was deeper than any of them guessed. Her heart could not truly begin to heal until she could strike a blow for the pride of the Lakota people and the honor of her husband, who had been cut down by the greedy white soldiers. Now some of those same white soldiers had destroyed more of what little her people had left... and they had come here.

At last Sun Smile felt that there was a worthwhile reason the Great Spirit had brought her to this place.

* * *

A full moon shone in the black sky over Deadwood Gulch, washing the rowdy settlement with iridescent white light. It was the kind of night that made animals restless and gave people nightmares.

Fox had kicked off most of the quilts that covered the feather bed he and Maddie shared, but he kept one arm hooked around his wife's waist as he slept. Sometimes he dreamed that he was asleep, then awoke and wondered if the moonlight and the strangely warm night were a dream, too.

Suddenly there came the sounds of a crash, splintering glass, and a thud against the braided rug in the parlor area of the log house. For a moment Fox refused to open his eyes, so certain was he that everything was part of an endless, eerie dream. Then Maddie shook his bare shoulder and he sat straight up in bed, alert and aware.

"I—I think someone threw a rock through our window!" she whispered in panicked tones.

"You stay right here." He pushed her back against the pillows and fixed her with a hard, gleaming stare. "Don't move." He reached for his trousers, which were slung over the back of a nearby chair, and pulled them on. Then, after lighting an oil lamp, he carried it through the house until he found the broken window and the rock lying on the rug amid a shower of broken glass.

Beside his favorite chair was a pair of moccasins that Sun Smile had given him that very week. He slipped them on and went to retrieve the rock, around which was tied a piece of string and a crumpled sheet of paper. By the wavering light of the oil lamp, Fox opened the note and read:

Dear Major Matthews:

Did you really think you could get away with deserting the Seventh Cavalry just before the Battle of Little Bighorn? It was a shameful sight, you riding away while the rest of us prepared to risk our lives. I'm afraid that the past has caught up with you, Major, and you'll have to pay a price. If you don't want all of Deadwood to know your sordid secret, you'll bring five thousand dollars in gold to Wild Bill Hickok's grave on Boot Hill. I'll meet you there at five o'clock tomorrow afternoon, September 16. Until then, I remain,

A Former Comrade-in-Arms

After looking outside and assuring himself that no one was lurking nearby, Fox carried the note and the oil lamp back to bed.

"It seems I'm being blackmailed," he told his wife in an acid voice. "But then, I can't say I'm surprised."

"Let me see that." Maddie scrambled over to the edge of the bed and scanned the letter while Fox held the lamp. When she had finished, she forced herself to remain calm. "Fox, do you have any idea who this person might be?"

He shrugged. "It could be almost anyone. I'm not surprised that someone from the Seventh who survived Little Bighorn would have gone on to link up with General Crook's forces. Crook was fighting the Cheyenne and Lakota up on the Rosebud in the middle of June, just before I arrived, and then he was assigned to chase Sitting Bull after Little Bighorn. Probably some of those who were looking to avenge what they saw as a massacre when Custer and his men were killed went with Crook." A note of wry pleasure crept into his voice. "Of course, Sitting Bull eventually escaped into Canada... and it seems that even Slim Buttes wasn't what the army would call a decisive victory, happily enough. Crazy Horse is still alive and unbowed... and Crook has yet to capture a single Sioux."

"Fox, I know that you men see threats like this in terms of a bigger canvas," Maddie interjected a trifle impatiently, "but aside from Crook and Crazy Horse, what are
we
going to do?"

He yanked off his pants and returned to bed, gathering her into his arms. "Nothing, my darling. Nothing at all."

"But—"

"What choice do we have? I certainly cannot consider meeting the demands of a person like this, not only because it defies my honor, but also because it would never end. There would be more threats, more demands. Only Custer could verify that I didn't desert, and I can't kill this blackmailer. Even if I believed that were an acceptable solution, again it wouldn't be permanent. There will always be someone crawling out from under a rock, threatening to expose my
secret."
Tenderly, Fox caressed her face and hair. "Secrets are poison. I'm done hiding my past... I'm only sorry if you're hurt by anything that happens from now on."

Maddie clung to him, tears in the kiss she pressed to his mouth. "Oh, Fox, I am so proud to be your wife! I love you with all my heart, and I will stand beside you and take whatever life has in store for us." They lay down together then, snuggling as if their bodies had been created to fit this way. Maddie basked in the glow of their love. "This may sound naive," she said, "but I truly believe that God knows what your motives have been all along, including that day at Little Bighorn, and we won't suffer while someone evil reaps the rewards."

Fox wrapped his arms around her lithe body and kissed the curve of her neck. "In my heart, I believe that, too," he said softly, adding with a hint of irony, "I have to believe it."

* * *

Graham Winslow jumped when the first knock sounded at the door of his room in the Grand Central Hotel. There were shadows under his eyes and his clothing was uncustomarily disheveled as he threw open the door and pulled Jeb Campbell into the room.

"Where have you been?" he snarled."It's eight o'clock!"

"Whatsa matter? You afraid I run with the money?" Campbell, although cleaner than he'd been upon arriving in Deadwood, still stank. The new clothes Winslow had given him were already stained with tobacco juice, and he scratched in a way that suggested his trip to the bathhouse might not have eliminated all the vermin living in his hair and beard. "You sure you wrote Boot Hill in that note?" he pressed Winslow, looking around for the whiskey.

"Of course I wrote Boot Hill! If you could read, you would have seen it for yourself, you twit!" The younger man was on the verge of hysteria. "What are you saying? Where's the money?"

"He didn't come." Campbell drank down half a glass of whiskey, then sucked on his broken tooth. "There ain't no money."

Winslow sank down on a rickety chair, ran his hands through his blond hair, and shook his head from side to side. "But, you said you saw Fox pick up the rock and the note last night!" he wailed. "He must have read it! Even if he were foolish enough to ignore those threats, his wife wouldn't want to have her precious reputation destroyed! How could he just... not
act?"

"I know. I'da thought he'd at least come and try to shoot me or somethin'." Jeb moved the plug of tobacco from in his mouth and refilled his glass. It was hard for him to look at Winslow without laughing, for the gentleman's hair was standing straight up from his head. "Maybe we oughta kidnap his wife—show him we're not to be reckoned with. I saw her lyin' in their bed." He licked his cracked lips at the memory. "I wouldn't mind dippin' into that one bit, I kin tell ya."

"Oh, shut up! I don't care what you do to Fox to get that money, but don't touch his wife, is that clear?" Winslow had already decided that both Fox
and Jeb Campbell would have to be disposed of before this episode was ended. Jeb Campbell had stumbled into Deadwood at the ideal moment to take care of Fox for him, but
he
would have to deal with Jeb personally; no one must be left to link him to this affair. And when it was all over, he would deal with Maddie... and the tidy sum she'd inherit as Fox's widow. The plan was so juicy, so perfect, that his heart thundered each time he pondered it. The trick now was to get this ignorant, repulsive jackass lathered up enough to follow through to the bloody end.

"I'm hungry," Jeb complained.

"I'll send you downstairs with enough gold dust to indulge in one of Aunt Lou Marchbanks's most lavish feasts, my good fellow, but first we must decide on a course of action." Graham began to pace in front of the desk, now and then glancing at the early drafts of the blackmail letter still spread out there.

"Whatcha gonna do?"

"Well, Jeb, I think we ought to stick to our original plan. I've told you that I can get even more money from Mrs. Matthews later, but she mustn't suspect that I'm involved." He waited for Campbell to nod in the way that meant he was reasonably confused but didn't want to admit it. "I believe that the only course of action left to us now is for you to confront Matthews at his house. Doesn't it make your blood boil to think how he ran away from that battle and yet is revered in this town as a leading citizen? Is that fair to a
true
hero like yourself, a man who was forced to eat his own horse and march for days through the rain and mud to get here... while Dan Matthews lives in luxury, eating homecooked food and sleeping with that beautiful woman?"

"No. That ain't fair!" Campbell agreed.

"Of
course
it isn't! And what about that Sioux squaw he brought to live in his house? He went out to their village and rubbed shoulders with Crazy Horse himself before he brought that squaw back here and subjected Deadwood to her presence!" Winslow continued to rant on until Jeb Campbell was red-faced with outrage and jealousy. Then the blond gentleman from New Haven paused before the trooper and said in a low voice, "Are we going to allow a man like that to
ignore
us? He thinks that he doesn't have to answer to anyone! Well, tomorrow morning you're going to teach Dan Matthews a lesson he won't forget... and after he's given you every dime he has and begged you for mercy, just like Custer's men begged the Indians for mercy, you'll finish him off. I'll meet you then, we'll divide the money in your favor and I'll give you a horse, and you can ride away a rich man. Nobody'll have any idea at all who killed Daniel Matthews. How could they? Not even his family know you or your name."

Campbell nodded, then spit tobacco juice into a pitcher full of water on the bureau. "Yeah. Y'know, that sounds like a lotta fun. Maybe I'll kill that stupid squaw while I'm at it." He paused. "I never did like him. I guessed he was an Injin lover back in Montana, and he always acted like he was better'n the rest of us."

Trying not to betray his elation, Winslow murmured, "So, it's settled, then?"

"Sure. I'll take care of him—just get me a real big gun."