Beneath a Dakota Cross (13 page)

Lord, have mercy on her. I want my girl, Lord Jesus. She's got to be safe. This world is full of a lot of evil. At least a girl should have a father to look after her!

Your daddy was right. You married a fool, Sarah Ruth.

If I find her, Lord . . . I mean,
when
I find her, Lord, I'll never leave her again.

Of all the children, she's the one just like me. You told me that yourself, Sarah Ruth.

Just like me.

But I didn't run away from home when I was twelve.

If I were that age, how would I get to Fort Pierre? I'd sell something and buy a ticket on the Missouri, Kansas & Texas Railroad all the way to Kansas City. Then, I'd go book passage on a steamboat out of St. Joseph . . .

But she's only eleven.

I mean, twelve.

She wouldn't have the money for that.

Maybe she's already made it to Fort Pierre. Maybe she found some bummers trying to go west to the Black Hills. They wouldn't let her go with them. It's too dangerous. Unless she sweet-talked them.

My, how she can sweet-talk!

If she went straight west from Fort Pierre, she'd ride right into that big band of Sioux!

Grass Edwards tapped him on the shoulder. Brazos turned away from the bow. “They got some food for us upstairs. You want to eat?”

“I'm not hungry.”

“Well, you cain't stand out here the whole trip. You'll freeze to death.”

Brazos pulled his hat low in the front and shoved his hands into his pockets. “There are worse things that can happen to a man.”

Like Bismarck, Fort Pierre swarmed with men who waited.

Some waited for the land office to open so they could file claims on farms and mineral rights.

Some waited for spring to sneak into the Black Hills.

Some waited to earn, or steal, enough money to go back downriver to St. Louis.

Some waited for news, money, or friends from home.

Brazos Fortune was not one who waited well.

Captain Mallory at the army encampment assured Brazos that no one, in any size group, had left Fort Pierre for the Black Hills. He had a patrol on the road east every day. His words had been quite direct: “General Crook has eliminated the settlements in the hills, and I can assure you there are not any people other than Sioux or Cheyenne within one hundred miles of the Black Hills.”

But the Captain had talked to Sergeant Robert Fortune, who had stopped by two days earlier in search of his sister. He had told Robert the same thing he told Brazos, and no, he did not know where Sergeant Fortune was at the time.

Brazos hiked down the muddy ruts of Fort Pierre that served as both street and sidewalk. His coat was buttoned high on his neck, his gloved hands shoved deep in the pockets of his canvas coat.

Grass Edwards met him next to a small log cabin that had been turned into a boardinghouse, sleeping eight to a room. “You find out anything, Brazos?”

“They claim there's no one in the Black Hills at all and that none have been allowed to leave here on that journey.” Fortune's breath fogged at every word. “Which is all a crock, because they're sneakin' into the hills by the dozens any way they can. How about you, Grass? You find anyone?”

“No Dacee June, no Robert . . . and no Jamie Sue. No one in any saloon knew anything. This is the dumbest bunch of people I ever met in my life. Ever'one's makin' their own plans, not carin' about the next guy. It's gold fever, ain't it?”

“I suppose.”

“Good thing we don't got it,” Grass said.

“Did you mention to the rushers about the big band of Lakota out west of here?”

“Yeah, but they said that was impossible. Said the army was makin' up stories like that to scare them from headin' to the hills.”

“Well, it must have worked. I haven't seen anyone leave town to the west since we pulled in.”

“Looks like a storm's rollin' in. No one likes to leave on a trip during a storm. What are you going to do now, Brazos?”

“I'm goin' to eat some supper and do some contemplatin'. I'm thinkin' about goin' on downstream . . . maybe that's what Robert's doin'. I wish I knew where he was lookin'. Grass, you about ready to eat?”

“I was thinkin' of checkin' the dance halls . . . you know, maybe someone there's heard of Jamie Sue . . . not that she's the type to frequent dance halls.”

“Of course not.”

“Where will you be eatin'?” Grass said.

Brazos looked up the street at an unpainted cedar building with a faded sign that jutted out into the street. “Reckon that one is as good as the next.”

The Wild Goose Cafe was crowded. Brazos found a spot at a table built for six, that, counting him now, held ten men. None had seen a little girl, knew a Sergeant Fortune, or had any intention of passing the biscuits or gravy.

A short serving girl, with bright yellow hair stacked up on her head and wearing a long apron that at one time had been white, buzzed by him.

Her face was round, plain.

Her expression exhausted, pained.

Her shoulders sagged.

But her necklace was stunning.

When Brazos spotted it, he leaped out of his chair. His carbine tumbled to the floor. He blocked her retreat to the kitchen. He felt a lump in his throat and his heart raced.

“Excuse me, ma'am, where did you get that beautiful necklace?”

“It's a winner, ain't it? My Eddie got it for me.”

“Your boyfriend?”

She stared around the room. The noise of the patrons isolated them. “Well,” she shrugged, “with a hundred men to every girl, I ain't exactly limitin' myself to one boyfriend, if you know what I mean.”

“Where did Eddie get the necklace?” Brazos probed.

“Now, ain't you the one, demandin' this and that? There ain't no more like it, if that's what you is searchin' for. It's custom-made.”

“I know. It was made by Enrique Cordova-Sanchez in Brownsville, Texas, in 1866. That's why it has a CS66 on the clasp.”

“I think I need to get back to work.” The woman brushed past him.

Brazos reached out and grabbed her arm.

“Get your hand off me, mister!”

Brazos let go. “I'm sorry. Hear me out. This is critical. The reason I know about that necklace is that I had it specially made for my wife. My wife died a few years back, and I gave it to my daughter. Now, my daughter's run away from home, and I'm looking for her.”

“Did you beat her?”

“What?”

“Is that why your girl ran away from home? My daddy beat me all the time. One day I just took his best gelding and rode off and ain't seen him since.”

“My daughter ran away to find me. Where did your Eddie get the necklace?”

“He traded for it fair and square. You cain't have it back.”

“No, ma'am, that's all right. It looks very lovely on you, and I hope you have as much enjoyment with it as my wife did.”

“Thank ya, but I've really got to get back to work.”

“Did your Eddie get the necklace here in Fort Pierre? Please, I really want to find my daughter.”

“He got it on the boat.”

“Which boat?”

“The
Far West
, when it was comin' upstream. He came back from St. Joseph a couple of days ago and said he traded a short, double-barreled Greener shotgun and two boxes of shells for this necklace.”

“Who did he trade it with?”

“A little girl.”

“Brown hair, big blue eyes, and a sweet Texas drawl?”

“Yeah, is that your daughter that ran away?”

“Yes! Did your Eddie say where she got off the boat?”

“Right here in Fort Pierre,” she reported.

“When?”

“Day before yesterday.”

“Dacee June was here two days ago!” Brazos exclaimed.

“Is that her name?”

“Have you seen her around town?”

“I ain't seen her at all, mister.”

“Where's Eddie?”

“He might be out huntin'. If so, he won't be back 'til next week.”

“You don't know where he's at?”

“Mister, I told you I ain't limitin' my possibilities to just one man. I don't know where he is, and I've really got to get to work. Hope you find your girl.” The waitress waltzed into the kitchen.

When he turned, someone was sitting in his chair and eating his supper. He retrieved his carbine and pushed his way to the front door.

A cold evening breeze hit his face as he walked out into the shadowy street. He stared to the west, where the heavy clouds hung low, darkening the sky, making it seem even later than it was.
Oh, Lord . . . she bought herself a shotgun and she's going to the Black Hills!

Brazos covered every square inch of town twice before he finally retired to the boardinghouse room where he found a floor littered with men in bedrolls. He didn't bother to pull his boots off, but flopped down on top of the canvas bedding.

“Any luck?” Grass Edwards whispered.

The room was stuffy and reeked of sweat and alcohol. “Well, she's not in Fort Pierre, and she's not downriver. I've learned that much.”

“What are you goin' to do now?” Grass whispered.

Across the room, Brazos heard a man snore as if gasping his last breath. “I'm going to find my baby girl.”

“How?”

“At daylight, I'm goin' to ride out on the prairie to the west to make sure she's not gone off with any group headin' into the hills.”

“But they wouldn't take a little girl . . .”

“I hope not,” Brazos sighed. “I'll cut a twenty-mile circle to the west to see just how many did head for the hills.”

“Ever'one of them will run into the Sioux.”

“I know.” Brazos reached down on his bedroll to make sure his carbine was stretched out beside him.

“I'll go with you.”

“I need you to stay here, Grass, in case I'm wrong. Robert or Dacee June may show up in Fort Pierre. Can you do that for me?”

“Yep, I'll do it. I ain't found no trace of my Jamie Sue either. What direction are you headed?”

“I'll be somewhere between the Cheyenne and the Wapka Shicha Rivers. South of there would be in the heart of Sioux country.”

“And north would be in the badlands. No fool in his right mind would ride through that,” Grass added. “If you ain't back in three days, I'm comin' after you. Don't go out there and get yourself killed, Brazos. That Dacee June is goin' to need her daddy.”

“Grass, there's nothin' worse than havin' your baby lost.”

By nine o'clock the next morning, Brazos could no longer see Fort Pierre or the Missouri River. By noon, the clouds hung so low, he could see no more than a mile ahead of him. By five o'clock, he could see nothing at all.

With clouds hanging only a few feet above his head, darkness fell quickly and completely. Brazos camped in a shallow draw that housed a clump of six-foot-tall sagebrush. He built a small, smoky sage fire and hunkered inside his bedroll next to the flames, his carbine inside the blankets.

Lord, it just seems like yesterday that we lost Veronica and Patricia. They kept crying, begging me to make 'em feel better. Frail little things with their mother's eyes. Sarah Ruth, I will always feel like a failure. They needed me, and I couldn't do a thing. A grown man just sitting there on the bed pattin' their hands and tellin' them it was goin' to be all right.

We knew they were dyin', didn't we? We were just kiddin' ourselves and them, until they went home with Jesus. But they had each other. It wasn't like they had to go it alone. Within hours they were up there side by side.

But Dacee June's by herself.

And she doesn't have her daddy by her side.

Oh, Lord . . . maybe it would have been better for me to die on the prairie in an Indian fight.

He took a corner of the cold, rough wool blanket and wiped the corner of his eyes.

But it wouldn't have been better for Dacee June, would it?

After a near sleepless night, Brazos had coffee boiling before daylight and was already mounted and circling the rolling prairie before it began to rain. It was a light rain, but a cold one that blew west to east, pelting his face and soaking his coat. With the visibility no more than a hundred feet, it was impossible to spot any movement at all on the prairie.

Needing to pull his hat low to protect his face, Brazos found he was unable to scout much more than the path immediately in front of Coco. The rain brought with it the cold smell of doom.

No one could be out in this. Even the Indians are smart enough to stay in their lodges. If I turn back now, I could make it back to Fort Pierre a little after dark. This isn't smart. People get into trouble out on the prairie because they do dumb things.

This is extremely dumb.

The clouds were so thick he could not tell the position of the sun.
If that wind ever changes direction, I won't know north from south. Maybe the wind has changed in the night. Perhaps I'm going the wrong direction now. There aren't any landmarks.

There's nothin'.

Lord, you said you had thoughts of peace and not of evil towards me . . . well, this is not a peaceful situation.

Actually, this is peaceful country. The only turmoil at the moment is in my head . . . and heart.

Maybe I took a wrong turn somewhere.

Like Fort Worth . . . or Waco . . . or back in Coryell County.

The next rise led him to another . . . then another . . . and another.

His clothes were soaked with rain and rubbed raw against his skin.

The cold seemed to be concentrated in his bones and radiated outward.