Fireblossom

by Wright, Cynthia

  "You already paid me. I didn't deserve no five dollars for that little bit of work. Are you gonna tell me what all that food's for?"

  "The poor," Fox answered, with a cryptic smile. "Where's Lorna?"

  "What? Poor Victoria!" Then her eyes narrowed, and she slapped his arm, grinning. "I get it! Lorna reminds you of that starched prissy lady who lives next to you, don't she?" The sudden flash of danger in his eyes stopped her. "Lorna's been real busy lately, if you know what I mean. Last time I saw her, she'd just come back downstairs. As you can see, there's some new fellas in town."

  Enjoying the sense of degradation, Fox went over to the bar, ordered coffee, and slowly examined the crowd for Lorna's coppery curls. He remembered how much she'd resembled Maddie the morning they met. They were nearly identical, Fox told himself, and felt an involuntary stiffening in his crotch. He wondered if he were cursed.

  There she was, standing in a crowd near the stairs, talking to a lean, unshaven miner. Seen at exactly the right angle, Lorna did appear to be Maddie, but when she turned the illusion would fade. Still, he thought, she'd do.

  Lorna's face lit up when she saw Fox approaching. She didn't look as innocent as she had that first morning, but she was still a damned attractive woman.

  "What can I do for you, pilgrim?" she inquired playfully.

  "I'd like to talk to you. That's all... for the moment, anyway." Fox smiled and saw her green eyes melt.

  "Now just a durned minute!" cried the young miner.

  "You can wait for me," she told the boy firmly. "Have another drink. I'll be right back."

  Spurning common sense, Fox took Lorna's hand and pulled her out the front door and onto the dirty wooden sidewalk. Then, pressing her against the Gem's front window, he enfolded her in his powerful embrace and kissed her so forcefully that she made a gasping sound deep in her throat.

  "Mercy!" she panted when Fox let her draw a breath. "You need it bad!"

  She didn't taste or smell like Maddie, and in the daylight it was even more obvious that her hair color was artificial, but Fox told himself that, in this instance, a pale imitation was preferable to the genuine article.

  "Lorna, do you like me? I realize that you haven't had much opportunity to get to know me, but I think I'm an improvement over the majority of other men you... meet here." He smiled. "I take a bath every day that I can; I've been told that I am not a strain to look at; and I have money."

  "Why, Fox... are you proposing?"

  "Not marriage, if that's what you mean," he said dryly. "How would you like to take a little trip with me? I have to leave Deadwood for a few days, maybe even a couple of weeks, and I've just decided that a little female companionship would be in order. I'll pay you more than you'd make here, and you'll have a hell of a lot more fun."

  "Well... sure!" Lorna agreed, feeling giddy. "Can I bring wine?"

  "Whatever your heart desires." He bit back a laugh and added, "You must give me your word that you will tell no one about this journey, however. Don't even mention my name. Can you do that?" When she nodded, Fox continued, "Bring what you need in one bag and wait for me in the alley"—he pointed to the opening between the buildings—"at midnight. If there is a change in plans, I'll send word to you. Do you understand?"

  Clapping her hands, Lorna nodded and stood on tiptoe to give him a shy kiss. "I can hardly wait! Sounds like a regular adventure!"

  "In more ways than one," Fox replied in a low, amused voice, and chuckled when she blushed. "I'm off to the bathhouse, but I'll see you later."

  Lorna skipped back inside to tend to the sulking young miner while Fox strolled toward the bathhouse on the corner of Wall Street. Not until he had disappeared inside did Benjamin Avery peek out of the alley next to the Gem Theatre. After looking right and left, he dashed out and ran all the way home, his wheat-colored hair sticking up in sweaty spikes.

  * * *

  James Butler Hickok was walking from the Pony Express office to Nuttall & Mann's Number 10 Saloon when he saw Fox emerging from the livery stable, leading Watson. He called out a greeting.

  "Bill!" Fox walked up the street to meet him halfway and they shook hands. "How have you been?"

  Hickok shrugged philosophically. "Well, I'm alive, and that's a start. What about you? Has Jane Cannary been chasing you? I thought maybe she'd cornered you in your room at the Gem Theatre and forced you out at last."

  "I appreciated your concern, pard," Fox said warmly. "Charley's visit helped me to see that I had to straighten up, and so I have. I've meant to visit your camp and thank both of you."

  "Charley's been away most of the time, riding for the Pony Express," Bill said.

  "And what about Calamity Jane? She offered to help me build my cabin, but I eluded her then and have continued to avoid her since. I assumed she was busying herself with you, or that she'd found religion through Preacher Smith. I saw her among his audience one day, positively starry-eyed."

  Hickok laughed and shook his long, wavy hair. "That's rich, son! Jane and Henry! But, I shouldn't amuse myself at Preacher Smith's expense. He's a fine man, and I hear he left a family behind to come West and labor in his Master's vineyard." He stared soberly at the ground for a moment, then one side of his mouth twitched. "Anyways, we're all safe from Jane for the moment. She's gone to Rapid City, determined to find a bull to ride on Main Street. That's the rumor."

  "It's a good one." Fox fell into step with him and, still leading Watson, walked along to Nuttall & Mann's Number 10. Wild Bill was congenial and unusually talkative. He told Fox that he'd just sent off a letter to his wife, Agnes Lake, "the famous circus performer." Bill always added this last identifying phrase and Fox couldn't decide if it was inspired by pride or a feeling of unworthiness.

  A new, crudely lettered sign hung outside a makeshift building as Fox and Hickok passed. When Bill saw Fox glance at it curiously, he read it aloud: " 'Office of Star & Bullock, Auctioneers and Commission Merchants.' I met Sol Star and Seth Bullock earlier this morning. Just came in from Helena, Montana, with a huge wagon full of goods—chamber pots, Dutch ovens, dynamite, mining equipment. Haven't even been here one day, and already they're an asset to Deadwood! They have plans to start building a handsome store right away."

  "Hard to believe how fast this town is changing," Fox remarked. "I was here when there were no towns at all, just the most beautiful mountains and valleys, streams and flowers you ever saw."

  "How'd you manage that? Were you with the Custer expedition in '74?"

  "Not exactly." Fox felt a dull ache starting in his temples. They had reached the door of Nuttall & Mann's and Fox put out his hand. "I'll say good-bye here, Bill. I hope you won't think I'm being too sentimental, but I am grateful for your friendship, especially in a town like this."

  "Likewise, pard." Hickok grinned, which changed the shape of his drooping mustache. He turned then and went into the Number 10. Fox watched for a moment, noting that the only empty chair at the card table faced away from the door.

  "I got your lucky chair," cried one of the cardsharps, whooping with laughter. "Too bad you was late, Wild Bill!"

  Hickok glanced back over the top of the swinging door and gave Fox a bemused smile.

  "You want me to watch your back?" Fox rejoined, half in jest.

  "Never mind. If it's my time, I'm ready."

  Fox was glad to get away. He wanted to go home and take a nap; give his brain a rest.

  * * *

  "I feel like a traitor," Benjamin whispered loudly. He sat between his sister and grandmother at the new pine trestle table in the kitchen. "If Fox knew I'd been spying on him, he'd boil me in oil!"

  "Hardly," Maddie replied absently as she experimented with different styles of handwriting on a sheet of paper. "Your loyalty to your family must override your loyalty to a mere neighbor. Besides, all this is for Fox's own good. Just wait, Benjamin. He'll thank you later for your help."

  The little boy brightened at this, for he loved sneaking around the badlands, hiding
in dark corners, eavesdropping on adult conversations. "I don't understand what's going on, but I hope you're right." The boy cocked his head at Maddie, studying her as she boldly printed words. When he'd returned earlier with his report—that he'd seen Fox kissing a lady from the Gem Theatre who looked like Maddie—he'd expected his sister to faint or something. Instead, Maddie and Gramma Susan had looked at each other in a funny way, like they were sharing a secret or something. Then, when he'd told them how Fox had asked the lady to go away with him and to meet him at midnight in the alley, his sister had thrown her arms around Gramma Susan, giggling, then clapped her hands and exclaimed, "Thank you, God!"

  Benjamin's grandmother was acting awful peculiar, too. Now she was saying to Maddie, "Oh, if only I could take your place! How I would love to visit an Indian village and find out the truth about them!"

  "An Indian village?" Benjamin echoed. "Who's going there? I want to go!"

  "I must have been having a spell," Gramma Susan said, winking over his cowlicks at her granddaughter. "That happens when you get very old. Sometimes I might say things that don't make any sense at all!"

  Shaking his head, the little boy got up and went to the door. "I'm going outside. This is boring."

  "Stay near the house, Benjamin," Maddie cautioned. "I'll have another errand for you soon. And don't forget—if you see Fox, don't mention one word about anything you've seen, heard, or done today. Understand?"

  He nodded. "I just wish someone'd tell me what's been going on around here."

  "I promise to tell you tomorrow morning," Susan said. "How's that?"

  "Everything?" His freckled face was stern.

  "If your father agrees, yes. I'll speak to him."

  Visibly cheered, Benjamin went outside to climb trees. Once he was out of sight, Madeleine handed her grandmother a freshly lettered piece of paper. "How does that seem?"

  Susan O'Hara read aloud in a hushed voice:

  My dear,

  I have thought better of my invitation to you to accompany me. I fear it is an impossible plan. Do not come to the alley at midnight.

  Regretfully,

  FOX.

  Before Susan could comment, Maddie hastened to explain, "It's a bother not being certain of her name. Benjamin thinks Fox called her Laura, but who knows for certain if he got it right. I only pray that the rest of his details were correct." She bit her lip, cheeks flushed with anticipation of the night to come. Would Gramma Susan be so supportive of this scheme if she knew just how confusingly intimate Maddie's relationship with Fox had become?

  "I think it sounds fine," Susan O'Hara said, peeking over the top of her spectacles. "And the printing is quite masculine-looking, yet legible. Now, do we dare send Benjamin into the Gem?"

  "What choice do we have?"

  "Why don't I go?—Now, now, don't fly into a dither. Do you imagine that I should be shocked by the Gem Theatre? In truth, I am much better suited to this errand than Benjamin. I'll just put on a bonnet that conceals my face and hair, and take this letter to Garnet. She'll be able to direct me to Laura, or whatever her name is." Susan O'Hara rose and straightened her tiny shoulders, filled with pride at her own ingenuity. "Garnet knows that Fox is our neighbor. I'll say that I was on my way to the store and volunteered to deliver his note. Who would doubt the word of an eighty-three-year- old woman of breeding?"

  "Gramma..." Maddie began in a strangled voice.

  "Pooh!" Susan waved her hand dismissingly. "It will be effortless. Believe me, I'm much more dependable than Benjamin." With that, she took the missive Maddie had composed and went in search of a proper bonnet for her escapade into Deadwood's half world.

  * * *

  The evening passed swiftly. Susan O'Hara, escorted in the wagon by Wang Chee, stopped off at the Bighorn Store for supplies and then wandered farther north on Main Street for a few crucial minutes. When she returned home, she smiled at Maddie from under her bonnet. "Everything is taken care of," she said conspiratorially. "I saw her read the note myself. By the by, her name is Lorna. She appeared disappointed, but then that nice young man with blond hair who was here for tea offered to buy her a gin and bitters, and she cheered up immediately. When I left, they were already laughing together."

  Maddie blinked. "Do you mean Mr. Winslow?"

  "Of the New Haven Winslows," Gramma Susan confirmed, with a sober nod. "None other.... So, now that Lorna has been disposed of, are you certain you still wish to undertake this adventure? Any fears or doubts?"

  "No, Gramma." In truth, Maddie was filled with terror. But overriding her trepidation was the sense that she was destined to make this journey, to spend this time with Fox, and to find her half-sister. "I think perhaps I'll go upstairs and lie down for a bit," she said, rising, "since I doubt I'll get much sleep during the night." She embraced her grandmother with uncustomary feeling and kissed her soft, wrinkled cheek. "You're a remarkable woman, Gramma. I'm grateful to finally be able to see that clearly."

  Upstairs, Madeleine visited first with her father in case he was asleep when she arose. Then she retired to her room and lay down on the narrow bed under the eaves, the little china doll with real golden curls on the pillow next to her. Unless Fox sent her back, she reflected, or coldly endured her presence as he'd been wont to do of late, her innocence would soon be lost along with the careful childhood symbolized by the china doll she'd never named.

  Maddie's heart raced at the thought, and she was filled with a panicky sort of anticipation, as if she were on a river headed for the most thrilling and terrifying of waterfalls. Eventually she slept, a smile on her elegantly beautiful face.

  Fox, meanwhile, had risen from his own nap. Night came suddenly, stealing the rosy light that softened the gulch, and soon Titus appeared with the wagon and two disgruntled mules. Fox eyed it all with consternation. The wagon was a battered prairie schooner, no more than an ordinary farm wagon with sturdy wheels and a canvas cover lashed over its frame.

  "Couldn't you do any better?" he asked.

  Titus gave him a dark look. " 'Twas a stroke of great good fortune that I was able to lay claim to this on such short notice."

  With exaggerated patience Fox listened to his friend's instructions regarding the mules, which apparently responded with minimal cooperation only to the words "Gee" and "Haw."

  "I certainly hope I'll be able to manage without you," Fox said when Pym paused for breath.

  "I don't appreciate your tone," Titus shot back, his voice rising in the purplish shadows. "Perhaps I'm worried about you, and perhaps I've simply done the best I could!"

  Fox smiled wearily and placed a tense hand on the smaller man's shoulder. "And perhaps I'm behaving like a bastard again. I apologize."

  Titus wished his friend would reveal what had been tormenting him these past days, but he knew that whatever it was was a secret. And secrets were like poison. He was about to say something obliquely along that line when the sound of gunshots reached their ears. At first both men only listened, since the rowdies who crowded the badlands often fired a few shots when drunk.

  Fox was the first to walk around the cabin and out to the edge of his land, which overlooked Sherman Street. Titus followed. Main Street was too far enough north to make anything out, but the sound of shouts and screams had joined the ongoing gunfire.

  "Would you mind taking a look?" Fox asked Pym, his voice absent. Odd worries pricked at him, and he tried to push them away. "I'll go next door and bid Mr. Avery farewell, then start packing the wagon."

  "I'll discover what's afoot and return to help you," Titus agreed, nodding.

  The evening passed swiftly into night. Fox conferred one last time with Stephen Avery, ate the chicken with biscuits and gravy pressed on him by Susan O'Hara, joked with Benjamin, and finally asked after Madeleine as he rose to leave. It was almost a relief to hear that she was sleeping. He told himself that being with Lorna would be easier if Maddie's memory weren't so fresh in his mind.

  Packing the wagon properly took some time
, but Fox welcomed the activity. When he put in the last wooden box of supplies and stowed blankets and his own belongings in the back, he took out his pocket watch and was shocked to see that it was eleven o'clock. Where was Titus?

  A disquieting sense of apprehension crept over him. He brought Watson to the wagon, tied him gently to the back, and was feeding him a carrot when Titus appeared, riding his own bay mare. Fox called out to him, but the Cornish miner made no reply. Instead he dismounted and walked over to Fox, who then could see that his friend's face was dead white and his eyes wild.

  "What happened?" he demanded. "Tell me."

  Titus pulled a tin flask from his shirt pocket and took a swig. "It's—it's Wild Bill Hickok. A dirty coward walked up behind him while he was playin' poker at the Number Ten and shot him clean through the head. Poor fellow. He never knew." Pym drew a ragged breath, then continued, "The town's in an uproar, of course. I arrived right after the shootin' and left once I'd heard that the villain had been apprehended."

  Fox felt as if he'd been blindsided. "Who shot Bill?"

  "I heard from E.B. Farnum that he gave his name as Jack McCall. No one seemed to know him. Another of those stray tomcats who drift in and out of towns like this, intent on nothing more than breaking the law." Titus patted the younger man's arm. "I know that Hickok was your friend. I'm sorry."

  Awash in moonlight, Fox looked stunned. "It must have been his time," he whispered at last.

  "Who's to say? If any of us wanted to be safe and die of old age, we'd've stayed where life's more civilized."

  Fox knew this was true. The West was dangerous—there was no guarantee when you woke up in the morning that you'd see the stars again. James Butler Hickok knew that better than anyone.

  Dazed and melancholy, Fox bade Titus Pym good-bye, adding that if he didn't return, his friend was to own the cabin. Then he swung up to the driver's position, took the reins, called out "Gee!" to the mules, and the wagon lurched forward into the night.

  * * *

  It seemed that the entire town was awake and in the streets. Everyone was talking about Wild Bill's horrific death, how he'd been sitting with his back to the door, how he'd been holding "aces over eights," how the miners' court was about to convene, and so on. Fox's heart ached as he guided the mules and the heaving wagon through the mass of worked-up people.