by Tracey Cross
“Doc said I can’t take the bandage off except once a day.” But she didn’t want to focus on herself. She wanted to savor every second of her time with Danny. “Stand up straight and let me take a look. My gracious, you’ve grown an inch.”
“Another one?” His incredulous tone brought a smile to her lips.
“Almost. And look at how long your hair is.”
“I’m not cutting it. Uncle Trent says I don’t have to. All the Indians have long hair.” He gave her a guilty, brown-eyed look. “Do I have to cut it off, Ma? I really want it long like Crazy Horse.”
She cut her glance to Bedlow. He chuckled. “I didn’t see any harm in letting his hair grow. It’s for a good cause.”
Trent had been good to Danny. But she knew Trent’s goodness. It always came with a price.
Trying to get off the floor, she grunted, moving her awkward body. Trent held out his hand. “May I?”
She grudgingly accepted. “Thank you.” Once on her feet, she looked down at her little boy. “Well, I don’t suppose it will hurt for it to grow a little longer. For now. But, young man, you know Ma doesn’t like long hair on little boys, so you shouldn’t have asked Mr. Trent to let you keep it long.”
He kicked at the floor. “Aw, Ma, I’m sorry.” He flung himself at her again. She lifted him, surprised at how much heavier he had grown in just a few weeks. “You’ve been feeding him well.” She squeezed him, then set him back down, admitting to herself that he was too heavy to hold in her condition.
“A growing boy needs to eat.”
“Thank you for this, Trent.”
On impulse, she reached up and gave him a quick hug. She knew the action was a mistake the second she followed the impulse, for he grabbed her and pulled her tight, turning a simple hug of gratitude into a lover’s embrace.
“Trent,” she whispered, “please.”
“Why do you fight this?” he murmured against her cheek. “I always get what I want.”
Relief washed over her as he let her go. She held out her hand to Danny. “Come and tell me everything you’ve been doing.”
“Guess what I have?”
“What do you have?” She was a little surprised that he seemed to love his temporary home. So far he hadn’t asked her to take him away; he hadn’t seemed upset or scared of Trent.
“A pony!” He yelled the information and jumped a little with each word.
“You have a pony? Oh my gracious. What is your pony’s name?” And what would happen to the pony when she took her boy and left Deadwood forever?
“His name is Sioux. And I painted him and Simone braided his tail.”
She had no idea who Simone was, but she had a feeling the woman had no business around a child.
Jane’s lips tipped upward. “Now you have Cheyenne and Sioux.”
The spark left his eyes. “Not Cheyenne.”
“What do you mean?” Then she remembered. The day they had taken Danny from her, Cheyenne was still at Franklin’s house.
“But I have a puppy. A new one.”
“And what is his name?”
“Brown.”
His choice of names said a lot about his feelings for the new puppy, but Jane wouldn’t betray that for anything in the world. “Why Brown?”
“Because he’s brown.”
Yes. He didn’t want another dog. Cheyenne had been the boy’s constant companion and only friend since birth.
“All right, Danny,” Bedlow called. “It’s time for you to go now. Ma has work to do.”
Danny’s eyes slanted. “I don’t want to go. I want to stay with my ma.”
Jane’s heart nearly failed her at the thought of letting him go again. She again slid to her knees, grabbed onto her little boy, and pulled him tightly against her. Closing her eyes, she drank in the feel of his chubby body. The sunshine and little boy smell. How could she let him go?
Tears filled her eyes, but she mustn’t let Danny see how upset she was. It would only make their separation harder for him. He clutched tightly. “I don’t want to go, Ma. Come with me.”
“I can’t, Baby.”
He pulled back, still in her arms, and looked at her. “When is Mr. Lloyd taking us home?”
“Let’s go, Danny.” Bedlow strode with purpose across the room and pulled Danny’s arms from Jane’s neck.
“No! Ma!”
“Stop that yelling!” Bedlow commanded. “Remember I said you had to come peacefully or no riding Sioux the rest of the week.”
Immediately, Danny’s cries ceased.
Bedlow nodded. “That’s better. Come. Victor is waiting to drive you back to the house.”
“Good-bye, Danny,” Jane called, her lips trembling. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, Ma.” Fat tears fell down his cheeks, but he didn’t cause any more ruckus.
After the two left, Jane hid her face in her hands and wept. When Bedlow came back, she stood and even allowed him to put his arms around her and pull her close while she cried. When her tears were spent, he offered her a handkerchief. She dabbed her eyes, blew her nose, and thanked him.
“Would you care to list my duties at the general store, Mr. Bedlow, or was that nothing but a ruse to surprise me with my son?” She wouldn’t put it past him to send her straight back to emptying slops and scrubbing vomit.
“I did enjoy surprising you. But rest assured, this is most definitely your new position.”
Too raw and spent by Danny being ripped away from her arms to attempt politeness, she placed her hands on her hips and stared at him. “Well then, what are my duties?”
He showed her where the money was and how to count the money in the morning and balance it in the evening to be sure it all came out right. The enormity of the job hit her like a silver hairbrush in the middle of her forehead. If she messed up even once and over or under counted, he could keep indenturing her.
If he did that, she’d have no choice but to either allow Danny to stay in Trent’s care, or completely disregard her morals, not to mention the Word of God, concerning fornication.
She made a mental note to get a system in place that would completely protect her from Mr. Bedlow. Otherwise, she would never leave Deadwood. And what if her baby were a girl? What sort of life would a girl child raised in this town have? The answer that came to mind left her weak.
Chapter Twelve
Mid-August
Franklin waved good-bye to Jenny as she rode away with Huan, who was taking her back to her pa. The girl had been with him for three days, and the color had returned to her face. He had promised to send Casey every few days with food so they didn’t run out again.
He hoped her pa might realize that she needed a new dress. And as she had paid for their supplies with gold, it was obvious the man could afford to properly clothe his little girl.
Tryst stood saddled, stomping the ground, impatient, so Franklin mounted up and headed toward his mercantile. Franklin smiled as he thought about the Shen brothers. All three had come from China together after their parents were killed in a typhoon. Huan and Chao had never married, and Franklin guessed them to be in their late twenties, perhaps early thirties. Cheng’s wife, Mai, had been so grateful to get away from her abusive employer and to at last be living with her husband, she kept finding little ways to do extra for Franklin. She rubbed his feet and brought him some sort of tea concoction. Though he preferred coffee, he took it to please her.
Coming home at night wasn’t so lonely anymore with his four Chinese servants there to greet him at the end of the day. They had drawn him in to their close-knit family like an adopted child. He tried not to think about what life might have been like, had Jane kept to the original plan and gone back to her homestead and he had settled onto the adjoining homestead. But she had made her choice. Ridiculously stubborn, she refused to allow him to pay off her debt. He had to admit he was having a difficult time forgiving her. It was one thing to insist upon paying him, but to remain in a saloon, with Danny—at l
east he assumed Danny was there too, although in the brief moments he was there he hadn’t thought to ask about the boy. He missed the lad. He’d hoped to one day teach him to ranch and run side-by-side herds.
At the thought of Danny, Franklin turned his horse around and went back to the house.
Shen Mai glanced up from scrubbing the dining room floor as he passed. She hopped to her feet and hurried to him with tiny steps. “You need?”
He shook his head. “I came to get the dog.”
Frowning, she shook her head. “Good dog. Not take.”
“I’m not taking him away for good. His owner is a little boy. I thought I’d take him for a visit.”
Her face brightened, and she nodded big. “O-kay. You take. Bring back.”
“Where is he?”
“With Cookie.” She thought for a second. “In garden.”
He started to take a shortcut through the dining room, but she let up a howl and shoved him back into the foyer, fussing at him in her native language. He grinned. “Okay, Mai. I’m sorry.”
“You go. That way.” She pointed in the direction of the longer way to the back yard where the garden was located, not far from the house.
“I’m going.” He chuckled as he walked through his house. Amazing how fast a person could take ownership. He was glad she felt comfortable enough as housekeeper, under Huan of course, to fuss at him for walking on his own floor. Women in every culture were still women and wouldn’t stand for a man dirtying up their handiwork.
He found Cheyenne lying in the grass next to Cheng as the cook weeded his garden.
Cheng rose to his feet effortlessly. “You need?”
“I came back for the dog.” He pointed to Cheyenne. Of his four servants, Cheng had the hardest time speaking English. Franklin managed to convey his need for a rope to tie up the animal. A sheepdog was too big to carry on the horse; besides, he’d never sit for it. And if Franklin allowed him to run after him without restraint, he’d likely scare the fire out of Tryst.
Cheng brought him a rope, and together they looped it around the dog’s neck.
“Missa Lloyd.” Cheng rarely spoke to Franklin, more due to his poor command of English, Franklin had always assumed. He pulled a book from his shirt and passed it to Franklin.
Franklin took it. “The Bible?”
“You help?”
A knot formed instantly. “I’m busy right now. Going to town.” He motioned to the dog. “I’ll be back tonight.”
“Tonight?” Cheng made the same “come back here” motion with his hand that Franklin had made. “O-kay. You help tonight.” He patted Cheyenne on the head and turned away without saying good-bye.
“Okay, fine, fine. I help to-night,” Franklin muttered as he led Cheyenne toward Tryst.
When he got to town, he stopped at Bedlow’s Saloon, tied the dog to the hitching post away from any of the horses, and pushed through the swinging doors. Two painted women sashayed to him immediately. “Hi, honey.”
He scowled at them, in no mood to be tempted or taunted. “I’m looking for Jane.”
“Jane isn’t here.”
Glancing up at the voice, Franklin drew his breath. The woman moved carefully, holding onto the railing. The bruises on her face were fairly fresh and swollen. If she was once beautiful beneath the wounds, he couldn’t imagine that she could ever be again.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” he asked, shaking off the women who clung to each arm. “Do you need help?”
She gave a short laugh and stopped at the bar. “Beer,” she said. “What can I get you?”
“Nothing, thank you. Are you sure you don’t need help?”
“Oh? Do you mean these bruises?” She drank down half the beer.
“You were beaten. No one deserves that. Not even—” Franklin winced at his poor choice of words.
“Women like me?” She laughed and drank more.
Franklin wondered if the alcohol dulled the pain from her injuries. “I apologize. That was unforgivable. But you do not deserve to be beaten.”
“Let’s just say these are the marks anyone must endure who does not approve of your lovely Jane.”
“Jane did this?” Shock made him stupid. Of course she didn’t. “No. She couldn’t have. You’re too battered. She doesn’t even have the strength to do something like this.”
“You’re right. But she has fans who will do anything for her.”
“Are you saying Jane asked someone to hurt you?”
“Well, I didn’t hear it with my own ears.” She laughed and sipped. “But there are rumors to that effect.”
“Vera! Stop lying about Jane.” Molly came over from the other side of the room. “If you only had heard her begging Trent not to hurt you, you would be ashamed of yourself.” She turned to Franklin. “The reason she looks that way is because she’s the one that split Jane’s head wide open. Trent punished her. Jane, of course, would never be cruel. Even with blood gushing down her face, she was asking Trent not to hurt Vera.”
Franklin went weak with relief. He scowled at Vera.
She laughed. “Still think I don’t deserve this?”
“Leave him alone, you old cow.” Molly took his arm and led him away from the bar. “What are you doing in here? Big George is going to toss you right out when he sees you. And he might not be as nice as he was last time.”
“I want to see Jane and Danny. I brought Danny’s dog. I figured he’d be missing that mutt by now.”
She smiled. “That’s so sweet. Jane’s not here. Bedlow put her to work in the general store, so she spends every day there. She’s got a real head for numbers. I think even Trent is surprised at how well she’s done since she took over for Craig a couple of weeks ago.”
At Craig’s name, Franklin felt anger rise. That man’s lies were what kept Jane in Deadwood, associating with people she should never have been forced to go anywhere near. “Jane is minding Bedlow’s store. Good. That’s better than working in a saloon. What about Danny? He’s the one I’ve really come to see, anyway.”
She averted her gaze, and her cheeks turned pink. He couldn’t help but think that Molly would have been a lovely girl without all the paint marring her natural beauty.
“Well? Where is he?”
She pressed her hands to her hips. “Look, Mr. Lloyd. Danny’s at Mr. Bedlow’s house. He lives there. But I wouldn’t try to go over there and make trouble. It’s like a fort. And trying to get past his henchmen is near impossible.”
Franklin grabbed hold of a chair next to a round table in order to steady himself. “What about Jane?”
“I can’t talk about this anymore. Go across the street and get your answers from her.”
Molly’s hesitation was all he needed. Franklin stormed out of the saloon. So Jane had thrown her lot and Danny’s in with Bedlow. The only thing he couldn’t understand was why?
Stepping out into the bright summer day, he was tempted to storm across the street and demand answers from the woman he had thought he was beginning to fall in love with.
A wagon rattled to the store and pulled to a stop. He recognized Andy Armor. The man hopped down from the wagon just as Jane emerged from the building. Her pregnancy was so advanced now that she pressed on her back and moved from side to side as she walked forward. He couldn’t take his eyes from her. She was still the loveliest thing he’d ever seen. All he wanted to do was go to her and beg her to come away with him.
She looked up, caught his gaze, and a beautiful smile flashed her dimple and curved her full lips—lips he’d wanted to kiss almost from the first moment he’d met her. It seemed like he had always known her. Her face softened as she continued to meet his gaze. He began to move toward her without giving thought to what he’d say once he reached her. Then he stopped short as another figure exited the general store.
Disappointment and confusion creased her face. As Bedlow stood next to her, draping his arm about her shoulders, she turned away. Bedlow held out his hand to Andy, then
glanced up and noticed Franklin. His expression darkened. He slipped his arm around Jane’s waist, as he had in the saloon the day Franklin had hoped to rescue her, and pulled her close. Jane turned and said something to him. He nodded, bent, and pressed a kiss to her cheek and allowed her to return to the general store. He turned back to Franklin, tipped his hat triumphantly, then dismissed him and began looking over inventory.
Franklin mounted Tryst and led Cheyenne away.
Jane stood on the other side of the large store window and watched between the painted letters as Franklin rode down the street, his shoulders squared. When he turned at the end of the street and headed toward his mercantile several blocks away, she had to swallow down her tears.
If only Trent didn’t have Danny, she would throw off the weight of this town and run after Franklin, begging him to take her home. But somehow God had not answered her prayers, and Danny was still captive at Bedlow’s home. Soon she would also be a captive there, as the baby made an appearance. Her body had shifted yet again, and she felt as though she could now breathe, but her entire lower body constantly hurt with the pressure of preparing to deliver a child.
The door opened, and the men began to bring in crates of goods. “Now you be careful with these,” Trent teased. “Don’t break anything.”
The last couple of weeks since he had put her in charge of the general store, he had been acting odd. More light-hearted, familiar, as though they were sweethearts instead of what they were—captor and captive. But she knew how quickly he could go into a rage, so she measured his moods and tried to match him. If he was melancholy, she talked gently and soothed his ego. If he was joyful, she smiled a lot and laughed at his jokes.
To anyone who didn’t know better, one would assume she was a woman in love, and they were courting. But Jane had come to understand that her best weapon right now was the fact that, for some reason, Bedlow believed himself to be in love with her. He was waiting to possess her. Once he did, things might change, so she had a few weeks at most to find out her true debt and how much she’d worked off.
So far she hadn’t had the nerve to go into the locked office. Bedlow had forbade her to enter the room, and she had obeyed for the sake of her baby and Danny. If he grew too angry, he could do to her what he’d done to Vera. Betrayal wasn’t tolerated. Disobedience was punished severely.