Beneath a Dakota Cross (28 page)

I've been lookin' for three years for my expected end to this saga.

And it's been like chasin' a mirage. The closer I get, the further it goes. And I'm tired.

I could have stayed in Texas.

I could have stayed in Cheyenne.

I could go to Arizona.

I could go to California.

It just doesn't matter.

The cross of Jesus.

That's the only cross that matters, and I already live under it.

Brazos flopped down in the green chair, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes.

Sarah Ruth, I've run as far as I can. I chased cattle, ranches, leads of gold, and business opportunities. I think I'll just sit a spell.

“Daddy, what are you doin' in the chair? Are you asleep? Did you sit there all night?”

Daylight was just breaking across the room as Brazos opened his eyes. His neck was so stiff he had to rub it before he dared turn it left or right. There was a sharp pain in the small of his back. His feet felt ice cold.

Dacee June pulled on his arm. “Are you feelin' all right?”

“There's never anything wrong with me that isn't cured by your smile, young lady.”

“I brought you some coffee,” she said.

“Where did you get the coffee?”

“I do know how to make coffee. Jamie Sue's going to help me make breakfast. We're goin' to cook all the meals from now on.”

“Well, now I have two girls to look after me.”

Dacee June stiffened. “No. She can cook and help with the housework, but I'm the only one who is going to look after you.” She waltzed over by the window and stared out. “Mamma asked me to do it. When she was dyin' she said, ‘Dacee June, you take good care of your daddy, because sometimes he gets to acting like a lost puppy.' And that's just the way you act sometimes. So I'm the only one in the whole wide world that's allowed to look after you!”

“That's what your mamma told you?”

“Yes, she did. And my mamma never lies.”

Brazos hunted for his socks. “Well, you're right about that, Miss Dacee June Fortune.”

“What are we going to do today, Daddy? Is it our turn to stand guard down at the barricade, watching for Indians? Or are we going to find that gold in Spearfish Canyon?”

“Neither.” Brazos tugged on a long, brown sock. “Today, you and I are going to hike up on Forest Hill and see if we can find a suitable lot near Todd's to build us a house.”

“A house? We're going to have a real house again?”

“Well, I don't intend to live above the store and entertain company on top of nail barrels the rest of my life.”

“Can I have a round, cut-glass window in my room? And a full-length mirror, and my very own walk-in wardrobe closet?”

“I think most of that can be arranged.”

Suddenly, Dacee June called out. “Daddy, come here! Come look! Look over there!”

Brazos sauntered towards the window, wearing only one brown sock. “What are you looking at?”

“Up on the hill, near White Rocks. The sun's reflecting off Big River's cross.”

“No, I don't think so. I took all the silver off it so no one would steal it. It's just dull, rusty iron.”

“No, really, Daddy. Get your spectacles. Look over there . . . it's shining!”

The morning sunlight had not yet dipped down into the gulch, but lit up the Ponderosas on top of the tallest mountains. From the opposite side of the gulch, a glimmering reflection seemed aimed right at their second-story window.

“It's Big River's cross, Daddy . . . really. It's a Dakota cross. Look, all of Deadwood is below the Dakota cross!”

“There is no way that dull, pitted iron cross could reflect that much sunlight.”

“Well, it is . . . and it's coming right into our window. It's a sign from the Lord. This is our place. This is where God wants us to stay forever. Daddy, this is home.”

“That might be, young lady. But that reflection is not from an iron cross.”

“Don't you believe in signs and miracles, Daddy?”

“I sure do, darlin'. I see a miracle ever' day I look into your smilin' eyes. Now, go downstairs under the counter and fetch me my spyglass. Hurry, before that reflection dies down.”

Brazos waited by the window as he heard Dacee June tromp down the wooden stairs. In a matter of moments, she burst through the room and over to the window, carrying the brass-cased telescope.

“Can I look first, Daddy?”

“Be my guest. But I'd search from the other window. You don't want to magnify that reflection right into your eye.”

Dacee June put the brass eyepiece to her left eye and squeezed tight the right. “It's just got to be the cross, Daddy. I know it's the cross.”

He walked over to her.

“Oh, no,” she wailed.

“What do you see, darlin'?”

“A creep!”

“What?”

“It's that creep, Carty Toluca!”

“What's he doin'?”

“He's got a mirror in his hand, and he's shining its reflection right into our window on purpose! He's just tryin' to pester me. I wonder if I should go punch him in the nose?”

“Let me look,” Brazos insisted.

Far across the gulch Brazos spotted the image of a teenage boy wearing ducking trousers, a white cotton shirt, and suspenders to his knees. In his hand, he cradled a small, round mirror. “Well, girl, you're getting to be mighty popular.”

“But, I'm so disappointed I could almost cry,” she moaned.

“Why's that?”

“Because I wanted so much for this to be the place that is beneath the Dakota cross. I like living here, Daddy.”

Brazos hugged her. “Maybe we are beneath the Dakota cross, darlin'.”

“We are? Where is it? Can we see it from here?”

“Just look in your heart, darlin'. That's where the important cross is. It doesn't matter where we live. That cross is with us.”

“Are we really going to stay in Deadwood and build a brand-new house?”

“Yep.”

“Can I have my own enamel bathtub, just for me, and no one else can use it?”

“Sounds like a reasonable request for an eighteen-year-old.”

“Oh, Daddy! I'm only twelve, and you know it!”

“You don't say? You seem much more mature than that.”

“Do I get a tub for myself, please?”

“Have I ever turned you down?”

“Not yet,” she grinned, and slipped her fingers into his.

EPILOGUE

At noon, on Saturday, June 24, 1876, three hours before the Battle at the Little Big Horn commenced, Lieutenant Colonel George A. Custer sent a battalion of 125 men under Captain Frederick Benteen to sweep the bluffs well south of the suspected Sioux encampment. Benteen tired of the scouting mission and turned north. He then received orders to bring up the packs carrying ammunition. While en route, he came upon the further divided and beleaguered forces of Major Marcus Reno. While suffering numerous casualties, the Reno-Benteen forces survived the Battle of the Little Big Horn. Sergeant Robert Fortune, serving in one of the three companies under Captain Benteen, sustained two broken ribs and contusions when his horse was shot out from under him. His injuries were not fatal.

Less than six weeks later, on Wednesday, August 2, 1876, at approximately 3:00 P.M., a previously unknown, shifty drifter named Jack McCall entered the Number 10 saloon on Deadwood's Main Street and shot James Butler Hickok in the back of the head as Wild Bill held a poker hand of black aces and eights.

Eighteen days after Wild Bill's death, on Sunday, August 20, 1876, Reverend Henry Weston Smith held worship services on the streets of Deadwood. After Sunday dinner he began a six-mile hike through the mountains to Crook City to hold similar services. Hours later his murdered body was found, where it had fallen, along the trail deep in the woods. Neither a motive, nor a murderer, was ever discovered. The entire population of the northern Black Hills mourned the death of Preacher Smith.

Look for Todd Fortune's story in

Book Two

Fortunes of the Black Hills

Shadow of Legends