Shadow of Legends (27 page)

“Are you all really alright?” he asked.

“No one got shot. They had just got here when you rode up.”

“Mr. Lander and the doctor aren't doing too well,” Abigail added, “but we were all safe inside.”

Watson Dover, with shoulders back, head high, and a new strut in his pace, marched into the tollhouse.

Dacee June scampered up to them. “Who shot this one?”

“I believe I did,” Rebekah admitted. “I got angry and lost control.”

“First, I don't win the beauty contest, then I don't even get to shoot anyone. But I did fire my gun! Rebekah Fortune, you're the luckiest woman alive.”

Abigail folded her hands together under her chin. “I don't think I've ever been rescued by a handsome knight who rode up on a black horse and saved the day.”

“You've been in too many theater productions,” Todd mumbled.

“I've never been in a play where a man dove off a horse and put a man out with one punch, then walked straight up to a galloping stagecoach and shut it down like that. In fact, you couldn't even put that in a play; it would be too unbelievable,” the actress reported.

“She's right,” Carty called out. “For a minute there I figured I was watchin' a young Daddy Brazos.”

“Some of it was mighty reckless and other sheer luck. The Lord was kind to me, that's all. It was nothing special, I can assure you.” Todd finished tying the man on the ground, then holstered his revolver.

Rebekah stared at the creases around Todd's eyes.
You will make a handsome middle-aged man, Mr. Todd Fortune. And you aged ten years today.
“What made you think to do such a foolish and brave thing?”

“I prayed and prayed all the way up there that the Lord had sent you all back to Deadwood. But when I heard the gunshots, I figured it was something He wanted me to take care of. I just ­reacted. I think maybe I decided if you're where the Lord wants you to be . . . all a person needs to do is react. It's all we have time to do well.”

“What about me?” The dark-haired man hollered. “Who's going to take care of me? You cain't leave me tied up like this!”

“There's your chance to shoot a man, Dacee June,” Todd winked at his sister.

“Really?”

“What are you sayin'!” the man screamed. “You cain't shoot an unarmed wounded man!”

“Of course we can,” Todd called out. “Dacee June, if this man tries to reach over for his revolver, shoot him. It he tries to crawl away, shoot him. If he moves a muscle toward you, shoot him.”

“I ain't movin'. Look at me!” he screamed. “I ain't movin'.”

“Shall we haul him in there and let the doc look at him?” Todd asked.

An ashen-faced Watson Dover appeared at the door. “He's dead,” Dover mumbled.

“Who's dead?” Abigail quizzed.

“Dr. Gordon. He just died.”

“No!” Abigail blurted out. “He can't die . . . not now . . . not like this!” She sprinted into the tollhouse.

The others followed.

Mrs. O'Neill sat in the corner of the room on the floor, rocking a whimpering Amber in her lap. Thelma Speaker fussed with a teapot at the cookstove, carefully keeping her back to the commotion.

The two wounded men were stretched out on the floor.

Neither moved.

On her knees, Abigail Gordon stared down at the lifeless doctor. Rebekah scooted up beside her.

“I didn't want him to die,” Abigail wept.

Rebekah slipped her arm around her shoulders. “I know, Abby . . . I know . . .”

“I have never known a man who ever treated me better. And I never have known a man who treated me worse. When I first fell in love with him, it was the deepest I've ever loved a man in my life. And this week . . . this week . . . I have never hated anyone so thoroughly. But I never . . . ever wanted him to die,” Abigail whimpered.

Todd hunched down between the ladies. “I didn't know his wounds were that serious. What happened while we were gone?”

Rebekah leaned her head on Todd's left shoulder. “He had us keep working on Mr. Lander. He kept saying he was alright.”

“He knew he was dying,” Abigail murmured. “He was a very smart doctor.” She laid her head on Todd's right shoulder.

“May the Lord have mercy on his soul. For a man with obvious faults, he made a heroic stand at the end,” Todd murmured.

“His poor wife in Chattanooga,” Abigail sighed. “It will be a shock to her.”

“Mr. Dover can explain the circumstances. Perhaps it will soften the grief a little,” Rebekah suggested.

Abigail glanced over at her mother rocking little Amber. “Could I . . . eh, have a few minutes alone with my daughter? We need to say good-bye to her father.”

Rebekah stood and clutched Todd's arm.

But she couldn't control the sobbing.

Somewhere out on the Dakota plains, the sun was up and summer bright. But not in Deadwood. White Rocks and the steepness of Whitewood Gulch kept the town in the shade. Recent rains had cleared the air of its summer dust cloud. The clear sky was prairie blue. But there was no sun. Yet.

Todd stood on the front porch of his Forest Hill house and sipped the final dregs of coffee. Rebekah scurried out of the door behind him. Her curly light-brown bangs tumbled precisely and evenly down both sides of her narrow face. Her long hair tucked under a straw hat with a white lace band. A wide, black felt ribbon circled her neck, just above the pointed collar of the white blouse.

“Are you still sick at your stomach?” he asked.

“It doesn't last long. I think it's something I'll just have to get used to.”

“Are you sure you feel like going to Columbia's?”

“Yes, today is my day. Abigail took a turn yesterday.”

Todd stepped back inside and set his coffee cup on the entry table, then slid his hat off the peg and plopped it on his head. He offered her his arm as they walked down the steps.

“Did you hear Wells Fargo hired a new stagecoach driver?” she asked.

“Who is it?”

“His name is Mink Carlton. He's about our age.”

“Now, how did you find that out? Mr. Lander is still in Denver, recuperating. And Handsome Harry's driving the Cheyenne run.”

Rebekah laced her fingers together. “A young lady gave me a complete description of him, including a dimpled smile that simply makes one's heart stop beating.”

“Dacee June?”

“Yes, she's told me he was just the type of man that makes a woman want to settle down, get married, and have children of her own,” Rebekah reported.

“She said that? She's only sixteen! How old is this guy?”

“Around thirty. Daddy Brazos has been gone for several weeks. She's feeling frisky.”

“Not that frisky,” Todd cautioned. “I'll have a talk with her.”

“Todd Fortune, she is not your daughter. Perhaps you should give her credit for some wisdom.”

He stared straight at Rebekah's wide brown eyes.

“OK,” she grinned, “perhaps you should talk to her. At least until Daddy Brazos shows up.”

Todd shook his head. “Poor Carty, I suppose I'll have a depressed clerk for a while.”

Rebekah held tight on to Todd's arm. “Maybe this will be the time where he just finds someone less fickle.”

“Not Carty. She's his one and only.”

She brushed some crumbs from his goatee. “Did I tell you about the latest idea Abigail had?”

“The one about a jewelry shop?”

“No, that takes too much capital. She decided she wants to open a ready-made women's clothing shop, specializing in nobby attire.”

“That will cost money, too.”

“She has the financing arranged. It seems she's lined up some prominent citizens to back her.”

“Anyone I know?” he asked.

“Mrs. Speaker, Mrs. Edwards, Mrs. O'Neill, Columbia, and, of course, Mrs. Fortune.”

“Mrs. Todd Fortune?”

“Yes, you've no doubt heard about the courageous exploits of her brave and strong husband.”

“It's all a rumor,” he chuckled.

“Oh no, I assure you it's quite true.” She held his arm tightly. They were almost skipping down the Wall Street stairs.

“You know this Fortune man well?” he asked.

“You might say I have him wrapped around my little finger.” Rebekah's eyes danced.

“I hear he and the missus are moving to Cheyenne City,” Todd said.

“Cheyenne City?” She stopped their stroll. “Where on earth did you hear that?”

“Or was it Virginia City? Or Rapid City?”

“Well, you can take it from me. She's going to stay in Deadwood for at least nine months.”

Todd looked at her from head to toe. “Don't tell me she's great with child?”

Tears began to stream down Rebekah's face.

“What did I say?”

“I'm going to get fat and ugly, aren't I?” she sobbed.

“Fat, yes, but never ugly. Are you serious about staying in Deadwood?”

“Yes, I am,” she wailed.

“What changed your mind?”

“A friend and a purpose.”

“Are you through crying?”

“Maybe,” she sniffled.

After wiping her eyes on a lace-embroidered handkerchief, they turned the corner west and ambled toward the hardware store. Sheriff Seth Bullock rode up on a yellow gelding with almost white mane. “That hold-up bunch is in the Yankton jail, waitin' for their trial,” he said.

“That's a comfort to know,” Rebekah said.

“They were a couple of the smartest and yet dumbest hold-up men I ever met,” the sheriff continued. “They set us all up to be too preoccupied to keep track of the gold. They planned it all the way from wounding Handsome Harry, so they could replace the driver, to terrorizing town to get us hidin' in our homes. They even sent that bogus telegram from the secretary of the treasury. It was the driver that tipped them off about the Sunday shipment.”

“So why would they ride back to the tollhouse and the scene of the crime?” Rebekah asked.

“I think that when you get away with things, you reckon you'll never be caught. Any gang that overlooks the Fortunes of the Black Hills is askin' for trouble.” The sheriff tipped his hat to Rebekah and rode on down the street. Then he swung back in the saddle. “Todd, I owe you a steak dinner at International for doin' my work . . . you remember that.”

“I intend to collect real soon,” Todd called back.

They promenaded farther down the sidewalk. “Did you hear what the sheriff said?” she asked.

“You mean the part about the ‘Fortunes of the Black Hills'?”

“Yes, I do believe you've been promoted.”

“I think you're right. But I'm not my Daddy.”

“That's the whole point. Todd Fortune, in and of himself, is a force to be reckoned with.”

He patted her hand. “I think that's a wife talking. I don't know if I did anything all that special. I just sort of blundered us in a tight fix and stumbled my way out of it.”

“Did you even think that maybe that's the way the Lord leads all of us? In the shadow of his wings.”

“It keeps a man from getting a swelled head. I trust I never do anything that dumb again.”

They stopped outside the hardware store. “The reluctant hero. It fits you well,” she swooned.

“Would you like to come in and tell windy stories around the stove?” he offered.

“My word, no. I'm walking straight up to Columbia's house. We'll have some hot tea, and then . . . we'll tell some windy stories!”

He squeezed her hand. “I love you, Mrs. Fortune.”

“And I do truly love you.”

“Will we have lunch together, or shall I have that beef chop with Seth?”

“By all means, have lunch with the sheriff. I'll stay at Columbia's. That new gal of theirs is a truly great cook. I'm glad I talked them into hiring her.”

“How about Dacee June? Where will she eat?”

“She talked Mrs. Speaker into eating Chinese food with her down at Ah Lee's.”

“They're going into China Town?”

“Yes, what a pair. I understand a certain thirty-year-old stagecoach driver eats all his meals there.”

“May the Lord have mercy on him and protect him ‘until these calamities be overpast,'” Todd offered.

He walked through the front door of the hardware store and smelled hot coffee and heard familiar voices.

“Daddy?” he called out.

Brazos Fortune brushed back his long drooping mustache. “Now, here's a lad that has some explainin' to do.”

Four men gathered around the stove . . . one in a wheelchair, one in a plaid wool suit, and two with three weeks of unshaven stubble and dirt sprawled across their faces. “When did you get in?” Todd asked.

Brazos peered over a tin cup of coffee. “Last night.”

“But when?”

“We rode in about midnight and you can't imagine how surprised I was to find two women and a little girl livin' in my house,” Brazos chided.

Todd thought his father looked a little shorter than he remembered. “That's Abigail Gordon, her mother, and daughter. What did you do for a bed?”

“I slept on the couch up in your office. It's a whole lot softer than those lousy Bighorn Mountains.”

“I take it you two didn't have any luck . . . hunting.”

Yapper Jim stood up and slapped his hands together. “There's two million people in those mountains already. You can't turn around without stepping on someone's claim. And there ain't no gold there, that's the funny part. Oh, they might find some up in Devil's Canyon, but we stumbled on a band of Crows that convinced us to come home.”

Brazos rested his right hand on his holstered revolver. “Quiet Jim said you had a little ruckus while I was gone.”

Todd glanced over at the man in the wheelchair. “He took the bullets. All I did was what had to be done. You know how that is, Daddy.”