by Susan Lower
“Chord Townes,” Hank says. “I suppose he’ll be bringing it back when he returns.”
“You rented him someone else’s horse?” the gambler says.
I crawl to the other end of the loft, where I can see and hear better. I crouch down, staying low and close to the wall.
The gambler looks around, frowns, and goes back to his conversation.
“Well, when will he return?”
Hank shrugs.
“Well, when he does, the horse better be in good shape. I expect them to be sold. You can at least find a buyer for the other one in the meantime, can’t you?”
Hank rubs his chin and glances down the row of horses and up a second in the ladder's direction. I breathe a sigh when he looks again at the gambler.
“They aren’t your horses. Sorry, but there’s a law about stealing horses and such. I don’t get involved. If Jo wants to sell her horses, then she’ll be the one to tell me.”
I almost let go of the wall and stumble over the loft. I hold on and catch myself. The gambler thinks he can sell my horses!
I strut across the loft, heading for the ladder.
“As her husband, I have the legal right. I believe you're aware of the laws when it comes to women’s rights and marriage.”
I head down the ladder. How dare he!
“You aren’t married. Come back when you are.” Hank moves away. I hear the clanging of iron and the gambler balls his hands into his fist. I jump down the rest of the way to the ground, catching his attention.
“Jolene.” He takes me in. “What are you doing here, darlin’? Have you been up in the loft?”
My hat is hanging down my back. I take long strides up to him. My hand in a fist, my arm itching to pull back.
“What. Are. You. Doing?” My teeth clenched as I let the anger roll through me. Outside, thunder answers in response.
“I suppose you heard that?”
“How. Dare. You. Sell. My. Horses.”
He holds up his hand. “Try. I tried to sell the horses. Surely, you understand.” He spread his hands wide. “We can’t tie them to the back of the stage, and I suppose we could ride them to Bisbee, but I was trying to think of your comfort, darlin’.”
“I’m not your wife. Stop telling people I’m your wife!” I yell so loud it spooks several of the horses.
Hank keeps his back to us, lifting a horse’s leg and settling the hoof on his thigh to shoe it.
“You are my wife. You will be my wife. Why are you being so stubborn? This paper here I’ve got where your father signed for you to marry me is as good as a contract or a marriage license. Any other woman would have swooned at getting a new dress, staying in a hotel, and traveling on the stagecoach and eventually the railroad. We can go east. New York. Boston.”
I cross my arms and glare at him. The fist in my hand still tempted to connect with his jaw.
“You said Bisbee.”
“I’ve got business there, darlin’ then we can go wherever you want.”
“Because I’m the one paying for it. Isn’t that right? You’ve been going around town, using up my credit at the mercantile, and the dress from Grace’s. Credit. You can’t pay for the hotel room, and now you’re trying to sell my horses.”
Hank looks back, a nail in his mouth. He gives me a look and I shake my head at him. He goes back to nailing the shoe on.
“My financials are none of your concern, darlin’.”
“And why not? I’m your wife, remember?”
He scowls, those emerald eyes dark enough to cut through me as if they were diamonds. He’s lucky all I got is my fist and not my gun.
“And as my wife, you need not worry your pretty little head over such matters. That’s what having a husband is for.”
I snort. I’m sure I hear Hank snort, or maybe it’s the horse he’s shoeing.
“And if I leave it to you, marry you, you’ll sell my father’s claim to the railroad and take the money and run.”
“Jolene.” He frowns. “Is that what you really think of me? No, my darling. The railroad is coming through. It’s true the claim, my claim, our claim, is worth a lot to them. They only need some of it. They’re willing to negotiate, and you can still keep a piece. Think of it, don’t you want a nice house? A place to raise our family. We can start our own gambling hall right here in Deadwood if that makes you happy.”
What happened to going out east? Or Bisbee. The man changes his tune a lot.
“No,” I say.
Hank releases the horse’s leg and straightens. He turns and watches us.
“No? I thought all you women wanted was a house and a man to settle down. Pretty dresses?”
“Does it look like I’m the dress wearing kind of girl?” I ask.
His gaze sweeps over me. “I can’t help your father didn’t raise you right. I hoped by introducing you to Daph—Miss Davenport, you’d become more comfortable in your woman ways. At the very least,” his voice drops, and he takes a step towards me, “I have been looking forward to teaching you from a husband’s perspective.”
I clock him. My fist connects with his jaw and pain explodes through my knuckles. I land the gambler flat on his backside. Standing over him, I shake out my fist.
“How’s that for woman’s ways?” I turn and look at Hank. “Thank you for not selling my ponies.”
Adjusting my hat, I head back into the steady downpour of rain. The winds howl through the street, and few are out on a day like this. I don’t blame them.
Perhaps, like the stage, the bounty hunter has holed up somewhere, too. At least if he is hunkering in a cave with our horses, I wouldn’t have to worry about Chitto and him running into each other.
My hand hurts like I broke every bone inside it. Sucking in a breath I try to keep the tears from rolling. Maybe I am not as tough as I thought. Maybe no one would want me for a wife except for the gambler after word got around.
I cradle my hand, walking in the direction of the doctor’s place. A sign hangs on the door. “For emergencies go to the barbershop.” I moan at my own hot-headed stupidity.
By the time I get back to Ruby’s, I am soaked to the bone. When I go inside, the house is quiet. Ruby likes to take a nap in the afternoons. She said it is her reprieve for getting up early then having to stay up late to see to her boarders. Right now, myself and the bounty hunter are the only ones here until the stage comes in again.
In the kitchen, I hear a sound. Stepping through the door frame, I find the bounty hunter. His jacket gone; his gun still strapped to his thigh. The darkness in the hall makes his hair darker, his profile stretched between us as the light behind him cast a shadow on the floor.
“You’re back,” I say breathlessly.
He takes one look at my hand pressed against my heart and frowns. I keep it pressed up against my chest to stop the throbbing. My knuckles are turning from crimson red to deep purple.
“What happened?”
“I clocked the gambler.”
His eyebrow shot up. The corner of one lip lifting with it. Is that amusement or an involuntary reaction from the side of his face? I can’t be sure.
“You punched Weston?”
I nod and wince as my mind replays the action and my hand throbs harder. I scrunch up my face, trying to keep the tears prickling in my eyes from falling.
“I thought I told you to stay out of trouble.”
He takes my hand in his. Tiny little zings, not at all unpleasant, crawl up my arm. I’ll blame it on the movement of my hand, but as soon as he places my hand in his to inspect it, the tears spring free.
15
“You know he’s going to go straight to Sheriff Bentely.”
He sits me in a chair in the corner of the kitchen. My throat burns as the tears won’t stop falling. The bounty hunter takes a cloth and soaks it in water from the pump.
“He wouldn’t.”
The bounty hunter wrings the cloth out, and he crouches in front of me. He’s so big, he doesn’t go dow
n much. “You’ve given him what he needs to push you to marry him.”
He takes my hand again, wrapping it in the cool cloth. I wince and bite my lip.
“What happened?”
I take a deep breath to settle my nerves. The cool cloth helps a little, but mostly it aches more. “He got fresh with me.”
And I tell him about trying to sell my ponies. “Hank was there.”
“Good.” All this time the bounty hunter stays crouched. His hands covering the cool cloth around my knuckles. The cords in his neck tense. He brushes his thumb over the top of the cloth. “I take it you haven’t punched anyone before.”
“I have.” A long time ago when I was younger and the girls in Chitto’s tribe taunted me. I always hung out with the boys, and I can see now how it would have made them jealous. I’d often get in spats and once, when two of them cornered me, I punched Running Fox in the gut. She doubled over and her sister ran for their father. Earl had to appease the father by giving him the rabbits I caught that day for supper. He never would listen to me or take my side.
“Well, next time, fold your thumb in.” He shows me and through the tears, I smile. Those stone-cold eyes have taken on a different shade, they’re unsettling. Not in a bad way. Concern etches over his face.
His thumb stops its caress, and all that’s left on my face is the dampness on my cheeks. He leans toward me, and I hold my breath.
He gently pries my thumb from the clenched position on the cloth. “We’ll wrap this against your hand. You’ll have to let it heal.”
“I broke it, didn’t I?” It comes out hoarse, almost a whisper.
“I’m guessing so. Let’s get this taken care of and we’ll go see Bentely before Weston tries to make a fuss.”
When he moves away and goes down the hall, I breathe. Soon he returns with strips of cloth and Ruby by his side. They wrap my thumb and knuckles. “You won’t be washing laundry for a few days,” Ruby says.
“She can stay in my room,” the bounty hunter says.
Ruby gives him a sharp look.
“Where are you going to stay?” My stomach does that flip thing and I try to tell it no. The thought of sharing a room with the bounty hunter sends my body into a tizzy and my mind in a frenzy.
“I got other places.”
I guess there is the hotel, but it’s more expensive. I can’t let him give up his room. I shake my head, but the bounty hunter takes my face in his hands.
Ruby’s eyes widen ever so slightly, but she doesn’t say a word.
“You’ll take the room. We’ll square up on it later.” I catch his meaning. He’s referring to his percentage of my claim. Although it makes my head go all fuzzy with his hands holding my face. “Don’t argue.”
He slips a finger over my mouth to keep it shut. “I’m tired, Dimples. Going up the mountain can tire a man out. You’ll stay in the room, and you’ll stay out of anymore trouble, you hear?”
I nod, and he releases me. “Good, let’s go see the sheriff.”
Ruby watches as we leave. It’s still raining, and I shiver. I never changed out of my damp clothes. The bounty hunter grabs his duster and instead of putting it on, he drapes it over my head to keep me dry as we cross the street to make it to the sheriff's office.
The gambler beat us there. The bounty hunter keeps a straight face, and I’m glad he’s not the ‘I told you so’ type.
“I’m telling you, Sheriff, I want to press charges.”
Sheriff Bentely leans on his desk as we enter. “Against your wife?”
“She’s not my wife,” the gambler says.
“Finally,” I say, and all heads turn my way.
“Yet,” the gambler finishes, giving me a pointed look.
He’s got a long red and purple bruise against his cheekbone and the side of his nose. I bloodied it, for his shirt beneath his embroidered vest has a sprinkling of brown from dried blood.
“I was defending myself.” And I tell the sheriff about the gambler’s plan to sell my ponies and how he got fresh with me.
Sheriff Bentely wipes his hand down over his face.
“Witnesses?”
“Hank,” I tell him.
“You see it?” he asks the bounty hunter.
“No. I just got back in town after following a false lead.” I wonder how long he’ll sit in church on Sunday for stretching the truth.
“You bring back the pony you took?” the gambler asks.
“Nope.”
“There. You see, Sheriff, he stole a horse and didn’t bring it back.”
I roll my eyes. “I gave him permission. He was delivering it to a family up in the mountain along with the supplies I promised them. Having to stay here, I couldn’t let them go without necessities.”
“I thought one outlaw from the Brownell gang was holed up at one of the abandoned claims. I told Miss Dean I’d deliver her goods on the way after she expressed her concern for the other mining families up there.”
“And the pony?” the gambler pressed.
“I told him to leave it with one of the families. Their old nag had dropped during the winter and no sense in Kai getting fat in the stables. I only need one horse to ride home.” I’d worry about my wagon situation later.
“Matter settled.”
“But, Sheriff,” the gambler starts.
“Shouldn’t you get back to the hotel? That jaw of yours has to hurt.” The bounty hunter lays a hand on the butt of his gun as is his habit.
The gambler’s eyes narrow. “Is that his jacket?”
“I didn’t want the lady getting wet.”
“Oh, she’s no lady,” the gambler storms in front of me, “but makes no difference to me, darlin’. I like a challenge.”
I shiver then, uncontrollably, as a droplet of rain from my hair makes its way down my spine.
The gambler goes to smile, but his dimples never appear. Guess that hurts. I cross my arms and watch as he goes to leave.
“Keep away from my future wife. Don’t think I don’t know about what happened to yours.”
The bounty hunter stiffens. Sheriff Bentely goes on alert. Both men have their hands at the ready of their guns.
Tugging on the lapels of his suit jacket, the gambler leaves. The bounty hunter leans toward the door, and I catch him with my good hand. Even the muscles in his arms are stiff.
“Pressure’s getting to him. This whole town is getting out of hand. I could use a deputy for the weekend. Are you sticking around?”
“Nope.” The bounty hunter plucks the leather duster off me, spins on his heel and heads out.
I follow behind, my mind taking a minute as for the first time I use his name, “Chord… Um… Mr. Townes…”
He stops. The rain is dripping down off the porch roof above. “Don’t go to the hotel tonight.”
“I won’t,” I say to his retreating back without a chance to tell him about what Warner told me.
It doesn’t seem as important anymore. I guess I’m not the only one harboring secrets.
I spend the rest of the evening at Ruby’s. She brewed a pot of vegetable soup and biscuits. One of these days I’ll ask her to teach me her secret to making them light and fluffy. Pearl taught me, but they’re not nearly as good as Ruby’s.
It’s quiet between the two of us. “You and Chord got something going on between you?”
“Why you say that?”
“He rarely gives up his room for anybody. Stays in the same room all the time.”
“What if someone is staying there when he comes?” I ask.
“Oh, it’s always there for him. I don’t rent it out to anyone but him. He pays me by the month.”
Interesting. The man is such a mystery to me. “You know him well?”
“Chord has been renting from me for years. Well, ever since he left the rangers and went solo.”
Abruptly, she gets up and starts clearing the dishes.
“Do you know why?”
I shouldn’t press, but I’m curio
us. One day it will get me in trouble.
“Not my story to tell.” She gives me a sad expression.
“Does it have anything to do with him having a wife?”
Ruby sighs. “Had.” She shakes her head. “You’ll have to ask him.”
Now there is a scary thought. I have never felt as if the bounty hunter would hurt me. Seeing the way he tensed in the sheriff’s office makes me worry. What happened?
That evening, I stay in my room. Ruby says it doesn’t matter as there is no one else there. I check for Shorty, keeping my hand just under the mattress and my other resting on my pillow above my head. It doesn’t ache as much when I keep it above my heart.
I leave my boots by the door. They’ll topple over if anyone opens it. I’m not afraid of Ruby. I’ve never feared staying here but I have a bad feeling and it just won’t go away.
Another day goes by, and my father’s killer continues to walk free. As I lay in bed, I can’t rest. If it wasn’t Amaryllis, Warner, or Buck, it has to be the gambler. But he has what he wanted, the signed claim share, and my father’s signed note bartering me for marriage. There is no need to kill Earl. Did his temper flare with my father as it did me in the stables?
Then I remember, the gambler doesn’t carry a gun. Or does he? He could hide it anywhere in that fancy suit he likes to wear.
Men!
When you think you’ve got them figured out, they throw you for a loop.
Closing my eyes, the bounty hunter’s tense expression wavers in my dreams. Not tense, I realize, but sorrowful. The same kind of sorrow when Running Fox’s husband got killed for crossing the border to hunt. He fought with the soldiers. Her anger and sorrow for losing one’s love so early in life kept her invisibly chained inside the tribe’s land after.
If the bounty hunter had once been a ranger, that means he is a man of the law. Something terrible must have happened for him to quit wearing the badge, but not enough to stop trying to bring criminals to justice.
It makes me wonder if he did have a wife. Where was she? Did she leave him? Or was she dead?
The sheriff is right. Things in Deadwood are getting out of hand. Worse, I fear I have run out of suspects. I have no other choice. I am going to have to go back to the scene of the crime.