Elijah saw the boy shudder and bury his face against her waist as he said something more.
“He is telling her that he found out today that Captain Richard Lawson is dead.”
Winona bent low, murmuring something comforting to the boy.
The boy’s face cleared a moment later, and he caressed Winona’s cheek as he spoke again.
“He assures her that he is well, though, because the preacher placed him with these people he calls Aunt Cassie and Uncle Keith, and they are very nice to him,” Lars said, pointing to the older couple. “He is telling Winona that Aunt Cassie made the shirt he wears.” The boy, obviously proud, showed it off. “He said, ‘They feed me so I am not hungered as I was when I found my way here. I have good shelter.’”
Elijah looked above the embracing Cheyenne woman and boy, and saw the confusion and distress in the Gilberts’ faces. Elijah knew this was the very thing they had feared, that someone would arrive to claim the boy they had come to care for so much in just a few days.
Winona raised her head then and spoke, and a moment later, Lars translated, “Please tell this man and his wife I appreciate their care for my nephew until I could arrive. I am in their debt. I will take him home now.”
As soon as her words were spoken, though, Dakota erupted like a young cougar suddenly let out of a small box, his voice angry and passionate.
“He says he will not go,” Lars translated. “He says he will never return to the village where they despise him.”
Elijah heard the Dane give Dakota a terse command, and guessed he was commanding that Dakota hold his tongue.
Even with the language barrier, Elijah could tell that Lars was speaking to the boy as if he were an elder male of the boy’s tribe, whom Dakota would automatically respect. He was counting on the strength of the relationship he had built with the boy thus far.
Obediently Dakota hushed, and Lars spoke to Winona in low, urgent Cheyenne.
“I asked her to give the boy a few days,” he said. “He’s had some very bad news today, and he’s still adjusting. Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert, I hope it’s all right, but I told her that you would let her stay with you while she decides what would be the best course and that you’re very good people.”
“Of course we will let her,” Cassie Gilbert said.
Winona crossed her arms and spoke again.
“She says she will sleep by the campfire with Dakota, and she will decide what should be done. She says she would like to talk to the Black Robe and the medicine woman also—she means you, Elijah, and you, Alice.”
Elijah knew Black Robe was a term Indians used to refer to any Christian minister or priest. Alice looked bemused, he saw, at being called a “medicine woman.”
He saw the tension leave Cassie’s face. “Please tell Winona she is very welcome,” Cassie told Lars. “We have food left from lunch, if she is hungry. I imagine she is, since she’s been traveling.”
Lars repeated Cassie’s words to Winona, and Elijah saw a bit of the wariness fade from the Cheyenne woman’s features. Dakota relaxed, too, now that he knew he wouldn’t be wrenched away from the Gilberts—for now, at least.
Keith Gilbert spoke to Lars. “Elijah’s nearly ready to start to lead the service again. Maybe you and the boy could talk Winona into coming? If she sees that Dakota has landed among good people, maybe she’d be more apt to stay with the boy here, instead of taking him back where he’s looked at as something ‘less.’”
Lars nodded. “I’ll see if she’s willing.”
* * *
Saturday morning there was no chapel service, but Elijah sneaked out of the Thornton tent and walked to the chapel tent for a bit of exercise—and to review the past few days and take stock of what had happened. It was the first time he’d been alone since the lung fever had struck him down.
How You have blessed me, Father, Elijah thought as he looked out over the empty benches. Thank You for restoring my health. Oh, he still tired easily, and Alice continued to watch over him like a hen with one chick, but he could practically feel strength trickling back into his muscles. I am more grateful than I can ever express. I only hope I can bring many others into Your kingdom, since You have left me here to serve You.
He was thankful, too, that the Lord had reunited Dakota and his aunt, just when the boy had needed her the most. Surely only God could have helped Winona find her way to the right tent camp and caused Lars, the only man in Boomer Town who could speak both English and Cheyenne, to be the one to hear her calling her nephew.
God is so good.
Winona had come to the Friday chapel service, with Lars sitting by her to translate Elijah’s words. The Cheyenne woman wasn’t a Christian, and she had told Lars that she was willing to come to the chapel only because her nephew wanted to. But she seemed to enjoy the singing just as Dakota did. Truly music was the universal language, even if the tunes were very different from what Winona must be used to.
He and Lars had devised a plan whereby the two of them would teach Winona and Dakota English in the afternoons, for both had expressed an eagerness to learn. This afternoon was to be the first lesson. It was a good sign that Winona was thinking of staying, wasn’t it, if she wanted to learn their tongue?
Elijah had great hopes that, by learning English, Dakota’s aunt would come to feel at home among the inhabitants of Boomer Town and decide to stay with the Gilberts after the Land Rush. And if the book Winona used to read English was the Bible, so much the better. Perhaps in discussing the meaning of what she read, she would come to share their beliefs, too. He would plant the seeds, and God willing, they would grow and prosper into faith.
More and more inhabitants were pouring into Boomer Town every day, now that the Land Rush was only nine days away. With nothing to confine it, the tent town was expanding. Soon it would blur into the next tent cities north and south of them. Elijah rejoiced that there had been a dozen or more newcomers in the service yesterday.
He and Alice had recommenced their medical and pastoral calls last evening. Fortunately there had been little serious illness after old Mrs. Collins had died, and he had come down with pneumonia—just a few lacerations, an upset stomach or two, a toothache and a few folks who felt increasing anxiety about how they’d fare on the day of the Rush.
Of course, he couldn’t promise any of them they’d be able to stake a prime piece of land with water and excellent land for grazing and putting in crops, but he prayed with each one and urged them to “cast your cares upon Him, for He careth for you,” as the Good Book said. He did assure them that, whatever happened, if they kept close to the Lord, He would bless them according to His will.
Everyone who’d been attending his chapel services assured him that they were going to try to end up near the south bank of the Cimarron where Elijah and his brothers were heading, for they wanted to settle near him and help him build the church.
It occurred to Elijah to wonder about the Chaucers. Hadn’t Horace LeMaster, that fellow who’d denounced him as a hypocrite after the service over a week ago, said the Chaucers were in the territory? He hadn’t run into them around Boomer Town, and neither had Gideon or Clint, so they must be in some other tent city along the border—perhaps the next one in either direction.
Bless them, Father. Help them to let go of the grudge they apparently still nurse toward Gideon, Clint and me, and help them find good claims. But if it’s all the same to You, let them settle somewhere far from us.
Perhaps he’d better get going, he thought, after consulting his pocket watch. Alice had invited him and his brothers to lunch, and he couldn’t wait to see her.
* * *
Full from their noonday meal, they’d agreed to make their rounds first and meet up with Gideon and Clint at Mrs. Murphy’s tent for supper. A talkative old man had kept them later than they’d intended, and now it was almost ei
ght. They’d have to hurry or they’d be too late to get a meal. As they walked, Elijah had been entertaining her with an account of Winona and Dakota’s first English lesson.
“They’re both very quick to pick up words,” he said. “Winona, especially. I’m guessing she’s already had considerable exposure to English when soldiers such as Dakota’s father visited their camp. And where one of them doesn’t understand, the other often does and can help. Dakota can name all of the things around the tent. I’m sure it won’t seem like any time at all until they’re fluent—”
His voice trailed off, and Alice looked up to see what had interrupted him as they approached the tent diner.
Folks were milling around outside the tent, talking, while others walked away. From inside the tent came the sound of a woman keening.
“No supper tonight, Reverend,” a man told them as they drew near. “Mrs. Murphy was robbed just before she was to open. Both she an’ her boy got knocked out and all their money from the day before taken—plus a goodly bit of the supper she was goin’ t’ serve.”
“In broad daylight?” Elijah asked, incredulous. “Did anyone see anything?”
“One couple who’d lined up early for supper said they heard a commotion inside, then the sound a’ runnin’ feet away from th’ far side a’ the tent. The man ran around the side of the tent, but all’s he saw was several men runnin’ away with black bandannas on their faces an’ hats pulled down low. He gave chase, but he lost ’em among all the wagons and tents and whatnot. Your brother’s in there, Reverend, talkin’ to Mrs. Murphy and her son.”
“What about the Security Patrol?” Alice asked. “Did anyone report this to them? Are they searching for the men responsible?”
“They come and took a report, said they’d go lookin’ for anyone matchin’ the description of those men that done the robbin’, Miss Hawthorne. But land sakes, once those fellows took their bandannas off, no one would know they were the culprits. It coulda been anyone. Maybe you oughta go on in and see what you can do for Mrs. Murphy, ma’am,” he told her. “I just caught a glimpse, but she’s got a right wicked cut on her forehead.”
“I’ll do that,” Alice said, a sinking feeling swamping her. Everything had been going so well...
* * *
Elijah followed her. Inside the tent, all was chaos, with tables and benches overturned, tin plates and silverware scattered amid the sawdust shavings on the ground. In the cooking area, pots lay on their sides, with what might have been stew congealed on the sawdust and the sides of the pan. Mrs. Murphy sat in one of the chairs, her son, Sean, holding a cloth to her head and trying to console her, but it was doubtless she could hear her son over her wails of despair.
Clint stood nearby, his face grim. When he spotted Elijah and Alice making their way through the wreckage toward him, he came forward.
“Glad you’ve come,” he said. “Mrs. Murphy’s pretty upset, as you can hear.”
Alice had gone straight to her, and Elijah could hear her murmuring softly to the woman as she peeked underneath the cold cloth. He caught a glimpse of a jagged cut that was still oozing when the wet towel was lifted and felt an immediate queasiness churning in his stomach, just as he had on the night Keith Gilbert had cut his leg so grievously. How could this slender woman beside him look at the things he’d seen her face so calmly and not turn a hair? She’d been given the gift of healing, all right. He sent a silent prayer of thanksgiving for Alice Hawthorne.
“This is the thanks I get for tryin’ to fill people’s stomachs with good, honest home-cooked foods,” Mrs. Murphy cried when she saw Elijah. “Robbed, we were! They took every penny I had in th’ till! Threatened t’ shoot my Sean if I wouldn’t tell ’em where I’d put yesterday’s profits. I knew I should have put them away where I keep them hidden, but I needed to be able to make change...” Her voice escalated into another wail. “Sure and I shoulda gone back to the Ould Sod when I was widowed!” Her Irish brogue was thicker now in her distress.
“Ma, it’ll be all right,” her son insisted. “It’s only two days’ profits that were taken. We’ll be all right.... See, Miss Hawthorne’s here, and she can tend to ye.”
“’Tis the idea of it, boyo—that someone could be so wicked,” Molly Murphy told her son. “But I should shut me trap—sure, and you were clobbered worse than me.”
“No, Ma, I got a hard head,” Sean said, but even from here Elijah could see the goose-egg-size swelling at the boy’s temple.
Alice raised her head and looked at Elijah. Guessing that she wanted something, he left Clint’s side and went to her, though he was careful not to look at the red-stained cloth on Mrs. Murphy’s forehead.
“Do you think you could fetch my medical bag from my tent, Elijah? It’ll be right on top of my trunk. I need to stay with Mrs. Murphy,” she said.
“Of course.”
By the time he returned, Clint and a couple men from outside were righting the tables. A pair of women who attended chapel cleaned the mess from the preparation table. Molly Murphy lay on another of her long tables, a tablecloth covering her legs. Sean sat on a bench by his mother, holding her hand, his other hand holding a wet cloth over the lump on his forehead.
“Ah, thanks for being so quick,” Alice praised, hearing Elijah’s footsteps. “I just need some disinfectant and bandaging for Mrs. Murphy’s laceration—fortunately it doesn’t need stitches—and some willow bark to brew tea for the headache she and Sean have been too brave to complain about.”
The boy had been brave, certainly—he’d been man enough to forget his own pain in comforting his mother. In Elijah’s absence, he saw that Alice, too, had worked wonders on the Irishwoman’s composure, for she was now calm and quiet.
He set the bag down on the table close to Alice, and she reached inside for the jar of carbolic acid, soaking a small square of linen in it.
“This is going to sting for a moment, Mrs. Murphy. Keep being brave, now—”
The woman gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the squeal she couldn’t help but utter.
“That’s it, all over. You were very courageous, Mrs. Murphy,” Alice crooned as she began to wrap a length of lint around the woman’s forehead. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get a nasty infection in that wound.”
“Do you have any idea what you were hit with?” The question came from Clint, who’d come closer now that he’d seen Alice was nearly done.
“They broke a bottle a’ vinegar over my noggin’ ’cause I jumped at them for knockin’ me boy down,” Mrs. Murphy said. “They threatened t’ go after my Sean with the jagged end of it, even though he was just lyin’ there, dazed and not fightin’ them anymore,” the woman said. She pointed to the offending bottle, which was in the sawdust nearby, broken off at the neck. “Aye, but they were wicked men, the spalpeens.”
Elijah’s eyes sought Clint’s. Who could be behind all these attacks? Why couldn’t the Security Patrol’s presence prevent them? And what could they do to keep their fledgling community safe?
Chapter Fifteen
After they returned from Mrs. Murphy’s diner, Clint told Elijah he was of the opinion that the diner robbery could be blamed on the same ruffians who had assaulted Abe McNally, that member of the congregation whom Alice had tended a week or so back. Many other such robberies and assaults had come to light, too—not all of them on members of Elijah’s congregation. Some of them had happened while Elijah had been ill.
“It’s got to be all the same men, Lije. There’s always four men doing the robbing or attacking, and they’re always wearing black bandannas.”
Elijah rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Have you talked to the men on the Security Patrol? What do they say?”
Clint gave a snort. “They’ve duly investigated each one, but they say they haven’t got a single lead. The four men just seem to melt
into the maze of tents and wagons when they’re pursued.” He shrugged. “I don’t know...maybe I’m being too hard on the patrol, Lije.”
“What can we do about it?” Elijah asked, suspecting his younger brother had a plan. Clint always had ideas when it came to law enforcement.
“The incidents always seem to take place at dusk or after dark. Private McGraw says two of them patrol every night, but maybe Gideon and I should add our efforts. You know we’re wakeful at odd hours anyway.”
Elijah nodded. “Go on.”
“So Gideon and I decided we’re going to start doing a little night patrolling of our own—see if we can’t catch these four outlaws in the act, or at least help to serve as a deterrent. We’ve only got a few more days to have to do it, after all.”
Elijah had to admit it was a good idea—and typical of Clint and Gideon to think of how they could help the town in the way they were best suited. “Well, just be careful. You’re always going to ride out together, not either of you alone, right? We’ve had enough excitement in this family for a while.”
* * *
By a unanimous vote, the Sunday morning congregation decided to give the week’s donations to Mrs. Murphy to replace the money that had been stolen from her Saturday night. Elijah would take it to her after the service, since the Irishwoman was never able to attend the chapel services as she was busy either serving or preparing food.
“Why do they give this woman this money?” Winona, who was sitting with Alice, Dakota and Katrine, asked, with the help of Lars on her other side. “I know her money was taken, but she does not come to chapel.”
“Yes, but many of us have eaten her food, and Molly Murphy is a good woman who did not deserve this bad thing that happened to her, the robbery,” Alice explained. “We give her this gift out of Christian love, showing her the same love God shows us.”
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