The Dawn of Fury (5 page)

“Won't be nobody up here but you and your dog,” Isaac said. “Rest of us will be downstairs. When you're ready, just come on down. I'll be up with a breakfast fire goin'.”

Even with all the blankets and the luxury of a roof over his head, Nathan removed only his boots, his hat, and his gun belt. The Colt he placed under his pillow. Cotton Blossom had curled up on the faded old handmade rug that covered the floor. There were no windows and no door. Nathan's bunk faced the open stairs. Tired as he was, he lay awake he knew not how long before he finally slept. It seemed only minutes until he was awakened by a low growl of warning from Cotton Blossom. Somebody was coming up the stairs. Nathan sat up, drawing the Colt from beneath his pillow. When Daisy appeared at the head of the stairs, a lighted candle in her hand, Nathan was struck dumb. The girl was stark naked, and even in the drafty loft by the light of a flickering candle, she left nothing to the imagination. She spoke softly.

“I want to go with you when you leave here, but I don't expect you to take me along for nothing. There's only this way that I can pay you.”

“You don't have to pay me,” Nathan said, “because you're not going with me. Now please get out of here. I want no trouble.”

“Then take me with you, else I'll scream.”

“Then scream, damn it,” said Nathan angrily. “I haven't laid a hand on you, and I don't aim to.”

“I'll tell the old man you had your way with me,” the girl said exultantly. “You think he'll take your word over mine, with me standing here naked right in front of you?”

“I think he will,” Isaac said, as he silently mounted the stairs in his bare feet. He took the candle from Daisy with his left hand, and in his right he held a razor strap by its metal hook. He swung the strap, swatting the girl across the bare behind. She screamed, fell to her knees, and tried to get under Nathan's bunk. Cotton Blossom snarled and she backed away. Isaac allowed her to get to her feet, and when she sought escape down the stairs, he busted her bare bottom again with the razor strap. It was an awkward time, and it was old Isaac who finally broke the silence.

“Jenny saw somethin' in her eyes, the way she looked at you durin' supper, and when you wanted to sleep in the barn, we knew she was up to somethin'. All I can say is, I'm sorry this happened.”

“Forget it, Isaac,” Nathan said, embarrassed. “No harm's been done.”

“She's like her ma,” said Isaac, as though he hadn't heard. “After our son died in the war, she lit out with a renegade, and we ain't seen her since. Daisy's our only grandchild, and we've done our damndest to do right by her, but there's too much of her mama in her. Tonight we lost her.”

There was nothing Nathan could say. He eased the Colt off cock, again placing it beneath his pillow. Isaac sighed, and without another word, began descending the stairs. Nathan lay awake for a long time, half-expecting the wayward girl to return, but he wasn't disturbed. It was well past dawn when he awakened. He pulled on his boots, belted on his Colt, took his hat and descended the stairs. Jenny was at the kitchen table, but there was no sign of Isaac or Daisy.

“Sorry,” Nathan said. “I'm not a man to lie abed.”

“You needed the sleep,” said Jenny. “Won't take a minute to hot up your breakfast. Your dog's hungry.”

Cotton Blossom had followed Nathan down the stairs and stood there with his head canted toward the big stove with its odor of fried ham.

“Cotton Blossom's always hungry,” Nathan said, “but I can't fault him. So am I. These are lean times.”

“I've cooked enough so's you'll have something to take with you. Isaac is at the barn. I'll bring your breakfast. Yours too, Cotton Blossom.”

When Isaac returned from the barn, he warmed his hands at the stove, then joined Nathan at the table. Jenny brought Isaac a cup of coffee, and he held the hot cup with both hands.

“I give your hoss a bait of grain,” said Isaac. “Cold as it is, the snow won't be meltin' anytime soon. Graze may be hard to find.”

“I'm obliged,” Nathan said. “I'll be riding west. Can you tell me anything about what might lie ahead?”

“A day's ride will get you into Kentucky. First town I'm sure of is maybe three hundred and twenty-five miles, and that's Bowling Green.”

“You don't know what's between here and there,” said Jenny. “I've packed you enough grub for four days, so you won't starve.”

“Ma'am,” Nathan said, “that's more than I have any right to expect.”

“Hush,” said Jenny. “It's no more than we should do for one another. Till you rode in, we ain't seen another human face since ...” She paused awkwardly.

“Since the man showed up that Daisy's ma run off with,” Isaac finished.

Nathan still hadn't seen Daisy, but he could feel her dark eyes on him, and as much as he hated to leave Isaac and Jenny, he longed to be out of that cabin and on his way. On a peg in the wall hung Jenny's faded apron, and into its pocket Nathan managed to slip a gold double eagle without being observed. The sky was overcast and there was a cold wind from the north, but the snow had stopped shy of a depth that would have made traveling difficult. Nathan opened the barn door and the black horse nickered. Old Isaac hadn't spent all his time in the barn milking. Behind Nathan's saddle was a bag of grain for the black horse. Nathan saddled up, mounted, and with Cotton Blossom loping along behind, the trio again headed west.

Twice during the day they passed isolated cabins, the only sign of their habitation being the smoke trailing from the chimneys. Thanks to Jenny having supplied them with food, they might be able to reach Bowling Green without stopping at some settler's cabin where old hatreds from the war still burned bright. Before dark they reached a cave whose entrance was sufficient for Nathan to ride the horse into without difficulty. There was a supply of dry wood, evidence that the cave had sheltered others. A nearby creek had water aplenty, and thanks to old Isaac's thoughtfulness, Nathan had grain for the horse.

The snow melted and the weather became mild. Nathan took advantage of it, and riding warily, reached the little town of Bowling Green the day after he and Cotton Blossom had eaten the last of the food Jenny had prepared. The town seemed sleepy, peaceful, but recalling his near-disaster in Roanoke, Nathan took no chances. He rode down the single street, past the mercantile, to the other end of town. If somebody recognized his horse and men came out shooting, he didn't aim to be boxed in. Men on the boardwalk seemed to pay him no particular attention, going on about their business. He rode back along the dirt street to the mercantile and dismounted, taking his time in slip-knotting the reins of his mount to the hitch rail. Still there were no cries for the sheriff, no thump of booted feet, and no roar of guns. Nathan made his way into the store and the man behind the counter nodded to him.

Nathan looked around and found the store surprisingly well stocked. A cedar beam extended from one side of the store to the other, and hanging from it, slightly more than head high, was an array of smoked hams and sides of bacon. Cotton Blossom yipped in anticipation.

“Sorry about that,” Nathan said. “You want me to take him out?”

“Naw,” the storekeeper grinned. “He can't get up there. Anything I kin get fer ye, in p'ticular?”

“A ham and a side of bacon,” said Nathan, “and I could use some ammunition for my Colt, if there's any to be had.”

“Ain't none. But if there's any truth in what I'm hearin', it won't make no difference. The Yanks has drummed up a Reconstruction Act that says them that fought agin the Union ain't allowed to have guns.”

There was no flour or sugar, but Nathan managed to buy a sack of coffee beans. His gold double eagle was accepted without comment and he was given change. His purchases were secured in a burlap bag that he evenly divided and lashed behind his saddle. He then mounted and rode west, unmolested, with Cotton Blossom trotting along behind. Having food, Nathan bypassed the other towns and villages. Paying his toll, he crossed the Mississippi on a ferry just south of Sikeston, Missouri. He then followed the river north to St. Louis.

Nathan reined up near the steamboat landing just as a big sternwheeler was preparing to depart. A mighty blast of the whistle frightened Nathan's horse and Cotton Blossom behind him. Nathan rode on along the river, following a winding, rutted street. There were warehouses, cafes, saloons, and bawdy houses. Just as Nathan rode past a dive called the Emerald Dragon, a man was thrown bodily out the door. Somewhere ahead there was a shot, followed by loud cursing. Nathan took the first side street that led away from the river. He needed to find a hotel or boardinghouse and a livery for the horse, but he wanted to distance himself from the brawling, hell-raising riverfront. The streets were crowded with bearded mountain men with packs, ex-soldiers, fancy women, dogs, gamblers, hard-eyed men with tied-down guns, and a variety of others who did not seem to fit into a category. None of them gave Nathan a second look, and he felt all the more certain that the men he was seeking might linger here for a while. Perhaps some of them lived here.

Nathan didn't like being too far from his horse, so he sought a hotel with a livery nearby. He finally chose a boardinghouse. The sign said Rooms by the Day, Week, or Month. Behind the place, across an alley, was a livery. Nathan entered the boardinghouse, Cotton Blossom at his heels. A tall, thin old lady got up from a rocking chair. She wore wire-rimmed spectacles, had eyes like an eagle, and looked as though she had seen more of the world than she would have cared to.

“I need a room for a few nights,” Nathan said. “You got anything against my dog?”

“Not yet,” she snapped. “He makes a mess, you clean it up or pay to have it done. Dollar a night, five dollars a week, twenty dollars a month. You pay in advance.”

“A week, then,” said Nathan, handing her the money. “If I decide to stay longer, I'll pay well in advance.”

“First room on the left, at the head of the stairs,” she said. Her eyes seemed to soften a little as she handed him the key.

The room was nothing to get excited about, but it was clean. There was an iron bed with straw tick, clean sheets, a pillow, and a pair of blankets. There was an ancient dresser, and on the wall above it, a cracked mirror held in place with bent nails. There was a blue granite wash basin, a matching water pitcher, and a single chair. A coil of rope lay next to the only window, one end tied to the iron leg of the bed. The fire escape. Nathan placed his saddle in the corner, along with his bedroll.

“Make yourself at home, Cotton Blossom. I aim to rest my bones for a bit before I go out and have a look at this town. If this ain't the jumpin'-off place, it'll do till a bettei one comes along.”

Nathan lay down across the bed and rested for an hour. By then it was nearly supper time, and he hadn't eaten since the morning of the day before.

“Come on, Cotton Blossom. Let's find some grub.”

Nathan avoided the fancy places, choosing one that had no tablecloths and plain wooden benches instead of chairs. The place was virtually empty, and Nathan chose a table near the counter. Cotton Blossom sat on the floor beside him, and the cook in his greasy apron cast a dubious eye at the dog.

“We don't generally allow dogs in here.”

“I reckon you don't generally have dogs that are paying customers, either,” Nathan said.

“That's a fact,” said the cook. “What'll he be havin'?”

“He's not particular,” Nathan said. “Just be sure there's plenty of it.”