Shadow of Legends (20 page)

“Dacee June, where's Rebekah?” His voice was almost a shout.

“She hasn't come home,” she replied. “Are you mad at me, too?”

“What do you mean, she hasn't come home? Carty said the three ladies walked home nearly an hour ago.”

Amber sat up and blinked her eyes at the light.

“What other ladies?” Dacee June asked.

“Abigail and her mother.” Todd paced the room.

“I've waited and waited for them.”

“You were supposed to wait for me at the church,” he brayed.

“Well, I got to acting really stupid and marched home. But it's OK, now,” she announced.

He stopped in front of her and looked down. “What do you mean it's OK?”

“When we got here, Amber was sick and needed to go to the privy so I . . .”

“My tummy hurts,” Amber mumbled in a barely audible voice.

“Anyway, I went up on up the hill and talked to the Lord. And now I need to come back and apologize to Rebekah for being such a pill. So I've been waiting for her. I'm sorry I took off like that, Todd. Don't be mad at me.”

“I'm not mad at you,” he shouted.

“Well,” she murmured, “it certainly sounds like you're mad.”

Todd paced the room again. “Dacee June, this is getting crazy. Quiet Jim's been shot.”

“What?” Dacee June flinched at the words so drastically that Amber clutched her arm and began to whimper.

“I found him wounded along Lincoln Street.”

Dacee June cuddled Amber. “How about Quintin and Fern?”

“If they ever stop crying, they'll be alright. They weren't hurt.”

“Is Quiet Jim . . . dead?”

“No, the doc's over at their house now. Columbia is beside herself, and the kids are all crying. I've got to get back and help. I need Rebekah to come with me,” he fumed.

“Maybe she stopped by the Gem Theater.”

“Why on earth would they do that?”

“I don't know. Perhaps Abigail wanted to show them something. I don't know, Todd . . . I don't know anything . . . I wish Daddy were here.”

“Well, he's not here, Dacee June, and we've got to pull ­together.”
The old man gone a week and the whole world falls apart. Lord, this isn't good.
“Lil' Sis, I need you to help me out. Rebekah's not here, and I've got to count on you to fill in for her. I don't need a twelve-year-old sister; I need a twenty-year-old one.”

“What do you want me to do? I can do it, Todd.”

“You take Doc's rig and drive over to Quiet Jim's. Just barge in and take the kids off to one room and try to settle them down while Columbia and the doc look after Quiet Jim. I'll be right over as soon as I find Rebekah.”

“How about Amber?”

“Take her with you.”

“Would it be good if I brought all the children back here?”

“If I haven't shown up in a half hour, have Carty help you bring them all home.”

“I won't need any help.”

“Dacee June, I don't have time for a sixteen-year-old's vanity. Do you understand?”

“I know . . . I know you're right. I'll ask Carty,” she mumbled.

“I'm going to backtrack Rebekah to the church. Maybe . . . maybe she stopped by to show them the store . . . or something.” He waved toward the entry. “Take the shotgun.”

“I have my revolver.”

“I said, take the shotgun. I'm tired of you not doing what I ask!” He could see Dacee June start to tear up again.

“I'm sorry, Lil' Sis. I didn't mean to snap like that. I'm worried. I'm really worried. My wife and two other women are missing. Quiet Jim's been shot . . . there are men roaming town looking to shoot me . . . I'm sorry.”

Dacee June hugged her brother. Amber hugged his leg. “It's like the tribulation in Revelation, isn't it?”

“There is a likeness.” He brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “Maybe the Lord is coming back soon.”

“That would be nice.” Dacee June pulled away and retrieved the shotgun near the front door. She led a startled Amber Gordon to the porch. “It's OK, Todd. I mean, it's OK to yell at me. I deserve it sometimes. I know I do. I'm trying to grow up. I really am.”

Todd stepped out on the porch and gave her another hug. “Take care of yourself, Lil' Sis. If two strangers come up to you, point that shotgun at their midsection and ask them what they want. I'll see you in a few minutes. Do whatever you can to help Columbia.”

“May the Lord have mercy on us, Todd Fortune,” Dacee June called out as she and Amber trotted out into the night.

He watched her whip the team and spin them in the narrow road, then disappear down Williams Street.
Have mercy on us . . .
Todd glanced back at the house with the lantern still lit in the parlor.
I ought to turn it off . . .
Then he glanced at the house next door.
Dacee June didn't close Dad's front door all the way . . . I ought to . . .
He turned and looked down the steep stairs down to Wall Street.
No, I've got to find my wife!

Todd took the steps two at a time, swinging on the wooden handrail.
“Be merciful unto me, O God, be merciful unto me; for my soul trusteth in thee; yea, in the shadow of thy wings will I make my refuge, until these calamities be overpast.”

He ran down Wall Street, all along Main past the Grand Central Hotel, Stebbins & Post Bank, and the hardware, then down Deadwood Street to the church. He turned on Sherman Street and sprinted back to the Gem Theater.

Then he retraced the entire route, checking every hotel, café, and theater. Finally, he ran back up the Wall Street stairs to find Carty Toluca with a shotgun over his shoulder sitting on the front porch.

“Did you find Mrs. Fortune?” he called out.

“Not yet. She didn't come home?” Todd pressed.

“No, sir. Dacee June's inside with the passel of children. I'm standin' guard.”

“Carty, you take Doc's rig back to him at Quiet Jim's, then hike back and check with anyone you meet in the street about Rebekah and the other ladies.”

“You want me to leave the shotgun?”

Todd took the shotgun from his hand and barged through the door. The parlor was empty. “Dacee June?”

“We're all upstairs, Todd!” a mature-sounding teenager called back.

He tramped up the stairs. Amber, Quintin, and Fern were lined up and tucked underneath the covers. Amber was asleep, and the other two were wide-eyed and motionless.

“I don't know why, but I just felt safer bringing them upstairs. Columbia insisted on keeping Sarah.”

“Does the doctor have anyone with Quiet Jim?”

“Their neighbor, Mrs. Osburne, came over, but her husband's working the night shift at the DeSmet Mine, and she can't be away from her children too long. Plus Sheriff Bullock's there.”

“What did Seth say?” Todd asked.

Dacee June came closer to her brother who was seven inches taller. “He figured it's the same two that took a shot at us the other night. But he doesn't know how they can appear and disappear so easily. You didn't find any trace of Rebekah or the others?”

“Not yet.”

“Are you scared?” Dacee June slipped her arm in his. “I'm really scared.”

“I'm not as scared as I should be.”

“What do you mean?”

“It's a terrifying predicament . . . but somehow I believe the Lord's still in control.”

“Good. Then you can sit with the kids.” Dacee June released his arm.

“I've got to find Rebekah and get over and check on Quiet Jim.”

“Well, let the peace of Jesus keep you right here for two minutes because I've got to run next door and get my nightgown and robe.”

“I'll get it for you,” he offered.

“I will not have you digging through my private dresser, even if you are my big brother. Just give me two minutes.”

“Take the shotgun.”

“To go next door?” she protested. “This is Forest Hill!”

His glance silenced her complaint.

“OK . . . OK . . . I'll take it . . . and I'll fire a blast if I'm in trouble.”

“Hurry! . . . wherever Rebekah is, I'm sure she needs me.”

Rebekah had heard Todd come home twice . . . and she thought she had heard him talking to someone on the front porch. She had tried to shout, but the best sound she could muster was a muffled hum.

Finally, there were steps on the porch. The partially open door flung open as someone carrying a gun rushed in. Rebekah pulled her feet back, but the person stumbled and crashed to the floor. The report of the shotgun slammed against her eardrums, and a long red flash of gunpowder momentarily lit up the face of the gunman.

Dacee June?

Then another person, with gun drawn, was at the door.

His silhouette was the most wonderful sight Rebekah had ever seen. He struck a match and squatted down by the three tied ladies.

When Todd's eyes met hers, she began to sob.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A thick overcast sky hugged the entire gulch from White Rocks to Forest Hill. Heavy, dark clouds sagged like an old mattress on a broken bed frame in a cheap hotel. Yet, there hadn't been a drop of rain. Main Street still corralled a stampede of dust from the heavy traffic.

Small black-winged goldfinches sat on top of the wooden guardrail, watching with beady dark eyes, too tired or too startled to fly off, or even let out a familiar “per-chik-or-ree.” It was as if all of creation held its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

Dacee June called out to Todd from the front porch as he crossed Williams Street. “I don't know why I have to stay cooped up like this! I can take care of myself,” she said.

Todd tipped his crisp, brown felt hat to a short, broad-shouldered man who sat on the porch of Daddy Brazos's house next door, a shotgun across his lap. Todd patted the side of his suit coat and felt the .45 holstered on his belt. When he reached the top of the stairs, he threw his arm around Dacee June's shoulders. Her white cotton blouse was buttoned high at the neck, but the sleeves were pushed halfway up to her elbows. Her long brown hair was stacked neatly on top of her head.

The determination in her eyes caused him to hesitate.

“Why are you staring at me?” she prodded as he approached.

“For just a moment, you looked a lot like Mama.”

“Really? Really, Todd? Do I look like Mama?” She greeted her brother with a hug and brushed a kiss across his cheek. “That's the highest compliment I've ever received from any of my brothers. Of course, Robert doesn't compliment, he only teases. And Samuel, well, it's getting where I can hardly remember him, Todd. Isn't that sad? I remember Mama, though sometimes I forget what she looks like. I still miss her every day. Do you miss her, Todd?”

He wiped tearless eyes. “Yep. I miss her, Lil' Sis.”

“I believe she was the best mother in the whole wide world.”

Todd brushed back her bangs and kissed her forehead. “I believe you're right about that.”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek again.

“If we don't stop smooching, Rebekah will get jealous,” he laughed.

“Well, if I don't practice on you, how will I ever learn?”

“I have a feeling that you've had some practice before.”

“Did he tell you that?” she challenged.

“Who?”

She tilted her nose and studied his eyes. “Never mind. Now, why can't I sit out here with a shotgun like Lars?”

“Lil' Sis,” he spoke in a quiet, firm voice. “I need you in the house. I've got Lars guarding things in front of both houses, but he's only one man.” He led her over to a bench and sat them both down. “Those men proved they're not bashful about intruding into our homes. Rebekah and the other ladies took quite a scare. I want you to keep your gun in your pocket and an eye out for anything suspicious.”

“Wouldn't it be better for me to be out here?” The lace yoke of her dark green dress stretched from shoulder to shoulder and bounced as she talked.

“I need you inside, to help Rebekah with the children.” He caught a strong whiff of her petunia perfume. “Besides, you're our secret guard. I don't want them to know how dangerous you are.”

“Yes!” Dacee June's round eyes sparkled again. “I'm the treacherous ace up the sleeve!”

“You're the ace alright, Lil' Sis.” Todd stood up to enter the house.

“You want me to stay at your house?” she asked.

“You just go about a normal routine, only don't leave Forest Hill. We don't want to give away your role.”

“Right. I'll . . . I'll go home . . . Abigail and Mrs. O'Neill took the children over there. I'll check and see if they need help.”

“That's good.”

“But that means me and Lars will be over at Daddy's house, and there will be no guards here.”

“I'll be here.” He patted his holstered revolver.

“Right. I forgot.” She bounded down the steps, then spun back. “Should I keep a journal of anything suspicious, or will an oral account be sufficient? I read that spies always keep journals.”

“Keep a journal if you want to.”

“I will! Maybe I'll write a book someday. I'll call it
Dacee June's Deadwood.
” She trotted to the house next door.

He found Rebekah was in the kitchen. “How's the prettiest gal in Dakota?” he asked.

She peeked under the lid of a huge blue kettle on the kitchen stove. “Merely in Dakota?”

Todd tugged off his tie and draped it around her neck like a backwards necklace. “Well, I don't remember much else in the world.”

She tied the tie like a scarf around her neck, letting the tails drape down across the front of her white blouse. “I'm doing very well,” she replied.

He touched her shoulder and spun her around. “I want an honest answer.”

She dropped her chin and scowled at him. “My arms ache, my back cramps up if I get in the wrong position, and my wrists are so stiff I have to soak them in hot soda water. But . . . on the inside, I'm doing a whole lot better than that. I apologize for breaking down like that last night.”

“Darlin', none of you ladies need apologize for enduring such a horrible ordeal. I can hardly force myself to imagine it.” He gently tugged her shoulders tight against his chest. “I intend to do everything I can to see that it never, ever happens to you again, even if it means we move out of the Black Hills.”

Rebekah relaxed. There were times when she felt that being in Todd's arms was the most peaceful place on earth.

This was one of those times.

“How are things around town?” she asked as she returned to the stove.

“Things are tense, but Quiet Jim is better this morning.”

She removed the kettle lid. The kitchen filled with the aroma of beef and rice soup. “Does he have any movement in his legs?”

“Not yet.” Todd leaned his backside against the counter. “But the doc says it's still too early. At least it looks like those bullets are not going to kill him. Doc said finding him quickly and getting the bleeding stopped probably saved his life.”

Rebekah handed him the wooden pepper grinder. “Would you unscrew this? My wrists are quite useless today.”

Todd opened the top and handed it back to her.

“Why would someone ride by and shoot him in the legs?” Rebekah searched her kitchen shelves.

“They were either bad shots, in a hurry, or . . .”

“Or just wanted to wound him?” She scooped a handful of peppercorns from a small brown burlap bag, then funneled them into the grinder.

“It's getting downright frightful.”

Rebekah opened the oven door with a folded towel and slid out a pan of biscuits. “How's Quiet Jim taking it?”

“Like always. He never complains.” Todd reached over and pinched one of the steaming biscuits and received a soft slap on the fingers.

“But how is he really doing?”

Todd folded his arms across his chest. “I think he's scared he might never walk again.”

“That makes me so mad I want to scream.” She darted into the pantry and emerged with a jar of wild blackberry jam. “Why . . . why? Why would anyone want to do that to such a gentle, respectful man? They wanted to grab Dacee June, cripple Quiet Jim, bust up our store . . . it's like they wanted to rile the whole town.”

Todd brushed biscuit crumbs from his chin whiskers as she reentered the kitchen. “Or at least one man.”

“And Daddy Brazos is out of town.” Rebekah glanced over at the hole in an otherwise full pan of biscuits. “I know . . . I know when we make a stand for righteousness we attract the forces of evil. But evil still makes me angry. I want to scream. I want to stomp on it. I want to bash evil up alongside the head.”

“Good,” Todd asserted. “If we ever become complacent, we've lost the battle.”

Rebekah pulled the biscuits apart and placed them in a linen-napkin-lined basket. “How's Columbia?”

“She is shocking everyone.” Todd followed her out to the dining room. “She's been bedridden for two weeks. Now she jumps up, tugs little Sarah around with her, and waits on Quiet Jim.”

“I bet he's upset with that.” Rebekah covered the biscuits with another white napkin.

“Only for a minute. I was there when she told him that she meant it when she promised to take care of him, for better and for worse. She said bluntly that whether she lived, the baby lived, or Quiet Jim lived, was all in the Lord's hands, but she had no intention of allowing someone else to take care of her man.”

Rebekah laced her fingers and could feel the lace cuffs on each sleeve rub together. “What did Quiet Jim say?”

Todd tugged at her apron strings until she backed over to where he stood. “Quiet Jim just mumbled something about there being a lot of dust in the air and wiped his eyes.”

She leaned her head against Todd's chest and closed her eyes. For a moment there was no pain in her arms, no cramp in her back.
Sometimes it takes the tough times to remember the important things, doesn't it, Lord?
She opened her eyes and glanced across the room. “Can you set down the porcelain soup tureen?”

Todd scooted out from behind her and retrieved the large white soup bowl.

“Do you have a guard stationed at Quiet Jim's?” she asked.

“Pete Whip is there,” he said.

“It was a good thing all those treasure coach messengers were in town this weekend.”

“I've got six of 'em takin' turns guarding the houses and the store. Seth took the other six with him.”

“I don't suppose Mr. Lander at Wells Fargo likes having all his treasure coach messengers unavailable.”

“They don't ship bullion until Monday. Of course, if the sheriff isn't back by then, they'll just have to postpone.”

“Can they do that? Isn't there a schedule to keep?”

“Some things are more important than schedules.”

Rebekah jammed a slightly wrinkled green apple into the peeler and began to crank. “Can you crank this for me? I feel helpless.”

Todd stepped over and spun the peeler.

“Are they going ahead and displaying the gold bars in the bank window?” she asked.

“They said they weren't going to break tradition of the past four years.”

“Did the sheriff think he had a trail to follow?”

“He picked up their sign just up Whitewood Creek.”

“If he's on their trail, why do we need to continue this self-inflicted quarantine?”

“Because the trail was too easy. They might be setting an ambush.”

“Or perhaps they're really dumb.”

“Did they sound dumb to you?” he asked.

“They sounded like men with a plan, a plan to get even.” She waved an arm toward the front of the house. “Would you bring the deacon's bench in for a couple of the children to sit on?”

Todd reemerged with the straight-backed, dark wooden bench. “I don't figure we've seen the last of them. That's a frightening thought, isn't it?”

“Not nearly as terrifying as it would have been last night.”

“Something's different?” Todd quizzed.

“I've been chastised a little,” she admitted.

“By whom?”

“The Lord,” she said. “For several days I've wanted to talk to Abigail about where she stood with the Lord. Well, last night I had a wonderful opportunity to demonstrate the peace of Jesus . . . and I failed horribly. She and her mother did better than I did.”

“But that was an extreme test.”

“And I extremely failed. This morning I prayed the Lord would give me another chance to demonstrate that peace.”

“You don't mean you want to be tied up and threatened again?”

“You know what? I told the Lord it didn't matter.”

“It matters to me,” he insisted.

“Listen to me, Todd. I told Him I would be willing to go through anything at all, if it meant I could demonstrate His love in such a way to reach Abigail.”

“She means that much to you?”

“She does. And the funny thing is, I don't know why. Why her and not some other person in town? It's like the Lord said, “It's time to put your faith into practice.” Then He sent Abigail my way. Next time, I know I'll do it better. And I'm not nearly as frightened as I thought I should be.”

“If you don't mind, I'm praying those two never come within a hundred miles of Deadwood again.”

“That's all right, too. Did you tell Columbia we'd be bringing lunch?”

“Yes, and she pitched a fit, but finally gave in to my astute logic and charm,” Todd declared.

“Oh, what logic and charm was that?”

“I said she couldn't stop me from bringing it over and if they ­didn't want it, they could take it out and dump it in the street.”

“Take it or dump it? You call that logic and charm? I don't think any Fortune man was ever accused of having charm,” she laughed. “Todd Fortune, you're beginning to sound just like Daddy Brazos!”