Shadow of Legends (9 page)

“Mr. Olene, up until this moment, I've been partial to your company's products. But you seem intent to browbeat me, trying to pressure me into doing something I do not want to do.”

Olene jammed his hat back on his head. “Well, I've never heard of a businessman who refused to even hear what the offer is.”

“You have now,” Todd replied.

“Perhaps I should wait until your father comes back.”

“That's your prerogative. You are not going to wait in the doorway to my store.”

“Well, Deadwood's a fine town!” Olene sneered. “I've been here five minutes and already been rudely treated.”

“Mr. Olene, I apologize for the rudeness, but we're not ­interested in selling the store. Your tactics probably fit the East better than the frontier. If you do not have a place to stay, I would recommend the Merchant's Hotel across the street. Good day, sir.”

Todd Fortune left the man standing in the doorway. With a fifty-pound keg of sixteen penny nails on his shoulder, Dub Montgomery scooted up beside him. “What'd that old boy want?”

“Wanted to buy the store.”

“No foolin'? What did you tell him?”

“No.”

“You're right about that. You couldn't sell,” Dub banged the nail keg to the floor. “It wouldn't be Deadwood without Fortune and Son.”

When Dacee June buzzed into the store right before quitting time, she wore a completely different outfit. A long black denim skirt hung to the floor, and a long-sleeve white lacy blouse was buttoned right under the chin. She strolled quickly past several male customers and right up to Todd. “Rebekah wants to know if you'll be home for dinner by six.”

“You changin' clothes ever' hour?” Todd pressed.

“You did not answer my question,” she huffed.

“Yes, I'll be home on time tonight. There's no freight train, no stage robbery . . . and no long-winded stories around the stove.”

“Pretty boring day, huh?” she laughed.

“Well, I did have one interesting visit. I'll tell you over supper.”

Dacee June pushed her face into his. “What was that?”

“Let's save it for tonight, then I will only have to tell it once.”

She didn't back away. “Did someone get killed? Is it someone we know? Did they strike a new vein of ore? Are they going to build a railroad to Deadwood? Did Columbia have her baby? Is there some cute new boy in town? Did he ask about me?”

Todd laughed and shook his head. “You're wrong on all accounts. Now, what about my question? Why the change of clothes?”

“A woman has the prerogative to change clothes as often as she deems necessary,” she lectured.

“You didn't learn that line from a sister-in-law of yours, did you?”

“Perhaps I did. Anyway, my dress didn't impress too many.”

“Well, it impressed me, Sis.” He put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a hug. “I think you should wear it more often.”

“You don't count. You're just a brother. Anyway, it didn't work.”

They strolled to the back of the store. “What, exactly, was it supposed to accomplish?”

“I certainly thought I would . . . you know, get a little more attention. People that I talk to all the time suddenly got shy, and I'm not inferring only a certain store clerk. A young man over at the International is just as backward. It's like people didn't even know me. Of course, there were some who liked the dress.”

“Oh?”

“A couple of the girls at the Gem Theater said it was . . .”

“The Gem? What were you doing in the badlands?”

“I was on an errand for a friend.”

“Picking up the gold-heeled shoes to go with that burgundy dress for Rebekah?” he quizzed.

“She told you?”

“Yes, we do talk, you know.”

“I thought all you two did was sit around and . . . hold hands.” Dacee June spun around. “Bye, see you at supper.”

“Leaving so soon?”

“I have no intention of talking to a certain one of your clerks.”

Todd heard footsteps behind him, but he didn't turn around.

“Was that Dacee June?” Carty Toluca quizzed.

“Yes, it was.”

“What happened to her clothes? I mean, those fancy ones?”

“She decided to change.”

“I was jist gettin' used to the other ones. They surely made her look all grown up, didn't they?”

Todd gazed at the wispy beard that barely covered the skin blemishes of the teenage boy. “Carty, perhaps you should tell her that next time you see her.”

“Are you kiddin'? Dacee June would hit me alongside the head with a shovel handle if I said something like that.”

You're probably right, Mr. Toluca. But she'll cry herself to sleep tonight because you didn't say it.
“Well, once in a while you should take a chance. Most women do enjoy a compliment on their clothing.”

As Todd Fortune locked the front door of the hardware, dust hung across Main Street like airborne mosquito netting.

Only it didn't filter out the bugs . . . or the heat.

“Excuse me!” a man's voice called out from the corner. “Are you closed?”

“Happy to open back up for a paying customer,” Todd offered.

“I don't need to buy anything.” The man glanced down at a small piece of paper in his hand, then looked up. “I just need to see a Mr. Brazos Fortune.”

“I'm afraid Dad's out of town for a couple weeks. I'm his son. Can I help?”

“Perhaps so. Perhaps so. I'm looking for a woman, and I'm told Mr. Fortune knew everyone in town.”

“Just a woman . . . or a particular woman?” Todd gibed.

“What? Oh my, no, I'm looking for a Mrs. Abigail Gordon. No one in this town seems to have heard of her.”

Todd stared at the slightly nervous but strong-shouldered man.
Lord, I don't know if you meant this to be a coincidence, but this makes for a fascinating saga.
“Would you happen to be Dr. Gordon?” he asked.

The man's eyes lit up. “No . . . no . . . I'm Watson Dover, from Chattanooga. I'm from the law office of Woodson, Goldberg & Dover. I see you know Mrs. Gordon. I haven't had any luck until now. I was beginning to think I had come to the wrong Deadwood.”

“I didn't say I know her.”

“Well, you certainly know the name of her former husband. If you'll just tell me where she abides, I have an important matter to discuss with her.”

Todd folded his arms across his chest. “Just what is the nature of your business with Mrs. Gordon?”

The man pulled a white linen handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. “That's none of your concern.”

“No, it isn't. But it is her concern. And when I ask her if she wants to see you, she will ask what it is about. It is highly unlikely she'll agree to such an anonymous meeting.”

The lawyer studied Todd from boots to hat. “All I can say at this time is that I represent her former husband, and it has to do with a legal matter concerning their daughter. As you can see, she will obviously want to meet with me.”

“It's not obvious to me, but I will see if she's in town and transfer the message. Where can she reach you?”

The man looked up and down the street. “I suppose I'll be staying over there at the Merchant's Hotel. When can I expect to hear from you?”

“I have no idea. If she's in the area, if I can find her . . . and if she wants to see you . . . I suppose I'll let you know in an hour or two.”

The man turned to cross the street and Todd headed for the corner of Main and Wall Streets. Even as he began the ascent up the steps to Forest Hill, he could see Dacee June wave at him from the porch in front of the house. When he glanced back, he thought he saw the lawyer still peeking around the corner at him.

“What's the news you're going to tell me about?” Dacee June shouted as he reached the top of the Wall Street stairs that ran perpendicular to one-sided Williams Street.

“Actually, I have a couple of things to discuss. I can't believe I know some things that you don't. That must be a first.”

“I didn't get to visit much today . . . I was . . . you know, too busy changing clothes,” she admitted.

“Well I'm not saying a word about them until we're sitting down at the supper table.”

“Todd!”

“That reminded me of Texas.”

“What did?”

“That whiny voice of yours.”

“I did not whine.”

“Of course you did.” He threw his arm around her shoulders as they walked into the house. “But that's alright. I have fond memories of when we were all on the ranch in Coryell County.”

“Yes, and I only have shadowy, vague memories of those days,” she admitted.

Prayer was said.

Pot roast was passed.

Biscuits were buttered.

“Dacee June tells me you have important news,” Rebekah remarked.

“Yes, well first of all, we had a visit from Tobias Olene. He's ­president of the company in Cleveland that we purchase a lot of merchandise from.”

“Mr. Olene?” Rebekah quizzed. “He's a friend of my father's.”

“That's what he said.”

“Well, where is he? Why didn't you invite him for supper?” Rebekah hopped to her feet and grabbed Todd's plate before he could cut into his meat.

He waved his fork in the air. “What are you doing?”

“I'll put your plate into the warming oven while you go downtown and invite Mr. Olene to eat with us. Why, my father would be insulted if we didn't invite his friends to supper,” she fussed.

Todd grabbed her plate-clutching arm. “Just wait a minute. There was a reason I didn't invite him.”

“He had other commitments?” she pressed.

“No . . . he wants to buy the store.”

“What?” Dacee June's face paled. “It's . . . it's not for sale.”

“That's what I told him, but he's sort of a pushy fellow.”

“How much did he offer us?” Rebekah questioned as she lowered Todd's plate to the table and returned to her chair.

“I didn't get that far.” Todd ran a bite of roast beef through a flood of dark brown gravy. “I told him we weren't interested, no matter what the price.”

“What does a rich manufacturer from Cleveland want with a hardware store out here?” Dacee June probed.

Todd popped the bite of meat into his mouth and chewed slowly before he answered. “He wants to cut out the middleman and sell direct to the mines from a Deadwood store.”

“Would the prices be lower?” Rebekah probed.

Todd cracked open a biscuit and felt the steam float up. “At least at first.”

“What do you mean?” Dacee June questioned.

“Well, he'd undersell the other hardware stores until everyone goes out of business . . . but then . . . well, I suppose they could raise the prices back up to where they were and make himself a very nice profit.”

“If he doesn't buy Fortune's, then he'll buy some other store,” Rebekah concluded.

“That's what he said. Either that or just build a new store.”

“So we either sell to them or get underpriced and eventually run out of business?” Dacee June moaned.

“That's all speculation,” Todd cautioned. “That might be just his sales technique. He might up and decide tomorrow that Deadwood just isn't the right place and go someplace else. There are a lot of things that could happen.”

Rebekah pushed her chair back and stared at an empty silver fork in her hand. “You should have at least let him make an offer.”

“Why?”

She laid the fork down and drummed her fingers on the edge of the oak table. “Because he's father's friend, and who knows, maybe it's the right time to sell.”

“What do you mean, right time?” Dacee June asked.

“What if . . . Daddy Brazos finds a claim over in the Bighorns and wants to move?” Rebekah suggested.

“He went on a hunting trip. He doesn't want to move,” Dacee June insisted.

“He's not going to bring meat one hundred eighty miles through Wyoming summer heat, is he?” Rebekah questioned. “He has other things on his mind.”

“She could be right, Lil' Sis,” Todd added, then stuffed half a biscuit in his mouth.

“And . . .” Rebekah continued, “what if Daddy Brazos wants to move, and the big mines . . . the Homestake, the DeSmet, and some of those, begin to decline? Then this just might be the right time to make a nice profit and build a business elsewhere.”

Todd wiped crumbs off his mustache. “Like a bank in Rapid City?”

“That's one possibility.”

Todd glanced at Dacee June's troubled eyes. “No, I think we'll want to ride out this wave. Fortunes were here when gold was discovered in this gulch. I figure we ought to be here when it dies off.”

“Well, I say it was impolite not to invite Mr. Olene to supper and at least hear what he had to say. The Bible says we should practice hospitality.” Rebekah's neck reddened as she spoke.

“And we should live at peace with all men as much as we are able. Having him for supper wasn't going to be peaceful for me. He struck me as arrogant and insensitive. Did you know him well back East?”

“No, I really didn't. But I believe we should respect my father's friends.”

Todd laid his fork down. “I agree with you on that. Why don't you invite Mr. Olene to lunch tomorrow?”

“Can I come, too?” Dacee June asked.

“Of course,” Rebekah said, then turned to Todd. “Will you allow him to present his offer?”

Todd folded his arms and stared across the food-filled table.

“Todd?”

“Out of my love for you and respect for your father, I'll let him make his offer. However, we will, of course, reject it.”

“Don't you think you need to talk to Daddy Brazos before you reject anything?” Rebekah cautioned.