Lariats, Letters, and Lace

by Agnes Alexander

  As a child, Brady had been raised in an orphanage for Indian children. Although his father was a white man, Brady never knew his people. His father, Joshua Wells, had come to Iowa as a fur trapper and met Brady's mother, Mina, a Lakota Sioux woman. But she was a mother Brady would never know. His mother had died giving birth to him.

  His father had tried to raise him on his own, but soon realized his way of life didn't mesh with raising an infant. Brady was passed around from family to family among his father's fur-trapping friends. That was, until the day word came that his father had drowned in the Missouri River while trapping beaver.

  Brady had been bundled up, put into a basket with a note giving his full name, and left on the steps of a church in Council Bluffs, Iowa. From there, he was taken to St. Joseph's Mission, where he was cared for by the nuns who lived and worked there. He lived there until his eighteenth birthday. On his birthday, he was told to leave. He'd gathered up his few possessions, along with the only thing of value that he owned—a cream-colored Palomino stallion with a flowing white mane and tail.

  He'd worked a whole summer for a local farmer who'd paid him a white man's wage. Then, he’d bought the horse from a local rancher. It was during that summer that he learned to care for horses and cattle.

  Being homeless and alone, he'd been making his way to the Dakotas. He had hopes of finding his mother's tribe. But as days passed, he grew to feel more and more alone, and lost.

  It was by chance that he'd wandered on to the Triple C Ranch. He'd heard a calf crying, and knew instantly that the calf was in trouble. He made his way to the area from where the cries were coming. He found the newborn calf all tangled up in barbwire.

  "Aw, take it easy little fella," he had crooned as he reached carefully through the wire to take the calf in his arms. One wrong move would have the sharp barbs of the wire cutting into the calf's neck. Carefully, he untangled the wire, bit by bit. He was so intent on untangling the calf, he didn't hear the rider approaching.

  "You there, put down that calf!" boomed a man's voice.

  Startled at the sound, Brady just about dropped the calf. The little thing started to thrash about.

  "Hold still, little fella," Brady cajoled. He looked up at the rider coming nearer. "I'd love to oblige you mister, but if I let go of him, this here wire will slit his neck." He looked up into the rider’s eyes. "It's up to you."

  Jasper Reynolds looked down at the Black Angus calf the young man held. For the first time, he noticed the bands of wire that were wound very closely around the young calf's body. Why, the little thing couldn't have been more than a few hours old, and by the looks of it, the poor critter was plumb tuckered out from trying to get loose.

  "I have some cutters here. You hold him still while I cut him loose."

  Brady nodded in agreement. Jasper stepped from his saddle and moved slowly so as not to startle the calf. Slowly, he snipped first one wire, then another until at last, the calf broke free.

  "That ought to do it," he said, walking over and rubbing his hands over the calf, checking for cuts.

  "Darn critter don't have a scratch on him. Good thing you came by when you did. Name's Jasper Reynolds," he said, extending his hand for Brady to shake.

  Brady stood up. After sitting for so long in that cramped position, his legs had gone to sleep. After shaking Jasper's hand, he said, "Name's Brady Wells."

  "Where'd you learn to care for calves, boy?" Jasper asked, still marveling at the fact the calf didn't have a scratch on him.

  "I worked on the Wilcox Ranch down by Council Bluffs. Grew up in the orphanage there," answered Brady. As he spoke, a wave of homesickness washed over him, a lump rose up in his throat and his eyes misted with unshed tears. He'd give anything to be back there, sitting around the big oak table and listening as the sisters led them in saying grace.

  Jasper shook his head. "Tell ya what. It just so happens we’re in need of an extra hand here on the ranch. If ya want, I'll put in a good word for ya with the boss man."

  A wave of hope washed over Brady. Staying in one place for a spell sounded mighty good after being on the road by himself all these days.

  From that day on, Jasper was Brady's mentor and best friend.

  Chapter Four

  Kitty stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine. There was just a hint of spring in the air, although spring wouldn't officially come for more than a month. It had been an unseasonably warm winter, which was rare in this part of the country. Why, just this morning Old Jasper had been standing by the horse paddock, looking worriedly up at the sky.

  "What on earth are you looking for?" Kitty had asked as she climbed up into the wagon, ready to leave for her seamstress job in town.

  "Something isn't right. Mother Nature has a way of playing tricks on humans. Making us dream of fresh grass and new flowers, and all the while, she's laughing at us as she whips up one hell of a blizzard—especially in these parts. Mark my words, one's gonna hit us and hit us hard. I just wish Brady was here. He was the best man to have around in a bad one."

  The moment he said Brady's name, he wanted to take it back. Just one peek at the sad look that crossed Kitty's face said it all.

  Much to her father's chagrin, she had turned down every marriage proposal she'd had in these past three years. Although her father had tried to move heaven and earth in his attempts to find a man fit enough to marry her, she'd thwarted his every attempt. Word soon spread across the region that old man Clark's daughter, although beautiful, was a shrew, an ice princess, and had no want, nor need, of a man.

  Which wasn't true. There was only one man Kitty needed—and that was Brady Wells. He was the man who held her in his arms at night while she dreamed sweet dreams of him. It was his lips that warmed hers with his kisses. It was his hands that roamed over the most secret places of her body. It was of him that she dreamed of night after night, and had for the past three years.

  "You're dreaming your life away, Kitty," her mother chastised her. "All the best years of your life are slipping away while you dream of a man long gone. Why, you should have been a wife and a mother years ago. I fear I will never know the joy of having grandchildren."

  A sad smile crossed Kitty's lips. "My heart can only love one man, Momma. It wouldn't be right to marry another man while my heart belongs to Brady. I would be the worst kind of liar. To promise to love, honor and obey a man—and yet, wish it was Brady holding me in his arms, having me in his bed—that would be deceitful and unfair."

  "Then you're a fool," her mother stormed at her. "Perhaps you would come to love this man once you were married and had his children."

  "No, Mother! Never! I would rather live my life alone than live in a loveless marriage."

  On her twenty-first birthday, her father had finally conceded, much to Kitty's relief, and promised not to ever try to fix her up with a prospective marriage partner…

  ****

  It was Valentine's Day, but in the past three years, she had not bought or made one single valentine. Since Brady left, there was hardly any need. She'd not heard one word from him, although he was never far from her thoughts.

  She lifted the reins and gave her horse a soft slap across its rump as she started her journey home.

  "Miss Kitty, Miss Kitty! Hold on, there," called out Miss Pruett from the front steps of the post office. Kitty pulled to a stop.

  "Got a letter here for Jasper Reynolds. I wonder if you'd be kind enough to deliver it to him for me? It's been sitting here all winter, and the darn fool has never come to collect it. You'd think a body would get curious from time to time and check in and see if they got mail from their kin or friends. It's not like I got all the time in the world to run about the country taking folks their mail and all."

  A flicker of hope raced through Kitty. Maybe it was from Brady. She'd not heard one word from him in all these years. Trying not to show the bit of excitement racing through her—she knew for a fact that Miss Pruett was the biggest gossip in the county—she he
ld her voice steady and answered calmly, "Of course! I’ll be glad to deliver it to Old Jasper."

  "Thank you, and Happy Valentine's Day!" responded Miss Pruett.

  Kitty waited until she was out in the middle of nowhere, miles away from curious eyes. She looked at the return address written in the far left corner of the envelope. Brady Wells, Hill City, South Dakota.

  A tear slid down her cheek. After all this time, she finally knew where he was. Now, what should she do with the information?

  Well, she mused as she traveled down the dirt road to her home, she was twenty-one—six months past, actually, since her birthday had been in June—and she was still single. Now, if Brady were still single, she could hold him to his promise—couldn't she?

  "Damn straight!" she cried out loud. She gave her horse a sharp crack across its rump with the reins and pulled into the front yard of her home at a gallop.

  Once upstairs in her room, she ran to her closet. No more waiting, it was now or never. She had to get on with her life and she couldn't do that until she knew if Brady was married or not.

  Chapter Five

  The 5:00 a.m. train chugged into Sioux City, Iowa the next morning. One lone person stood with her ticket in hand on the train platform waiting to board the train. Thankfully, everyone out at the ranch had still been sleeping as she’d crept down the stairs with her carpet bag clutched in her hand, pulling her steamer trunk behind her. She'd emptied out her savings from her hiding place in her jewelry box and brought only her finest clothes, including the dress she'd made for Valentine's Day three years ago. It would make a fine wedding dress.

  She'd scribbled a quick note to her parents, leaving it on the kitchen table, telling them she'd be visiting a friend from school that lived down in Omaha and she would return in a few weeks. That, and she'd left the letter from Brady to Jasper in his cubbyhole in the bunkhouse while he was at dinner. Odds were he'd not see it until Saturday night when he bathed and took clean clothes out to attend Sunday services at the Baptist church in town.

  Excitement filled her from her head to her toes as she watched the monstrous engine approach. Big puffs of black smoke poured from the engine as it came to a screeching stop. She took one last look around her at the town she'd grown up in as she stepped onto the steps of the train car. Once the luggage was loaded, the passengers on board, the large wheels began to turn, and the train gathered speed as the locomotive chugged down the tracks.

  The sun was just starting to make its appearance, sending spirals of golden light mixed with pinks and blues, as the train rolled across the prairie to the foot hills of South Dakota.

  For three days, the Pacific North Western train lumbered along the wooden tracks, most times at thirty-five miles an hour, and at other times up to sixty-five miles per hour, a dizzying rate of speed Kitty had never felt before. The constant motion of the train had her stomach churning. She'd been in such a hurry to be on her way, she hadn't thought to bring along so much as one of her mother's biscuits. Her stomach growled from lack of food. Thankfully, the train rambled to a stop just outside of Sioux Falls to fill up with water and coal.

  Kitty stepped from the train and followed the other passengers into a long house built of logs. A kindly woman stood at a stove ladling up what looked to be plates of chicken and noodles along with a biscuit or two. She set a tin plate in front of Kitty.

  "That'll be two bits," she said wiping her reddened hands on the white apron tied around her ample middle. "Best eat up while you can. After this stop, hard telling what they'll be feeding you on up the road."

  Kitty took the money from her coin purse and handed it to the woman, thanking her for the meal. Although it was a bit more salty than how her mother fixed it, at least it filled up the hollow feeling in her belly, and it was nice and hot.

  After eating, Kitty found her way to the outhouse. After using the facility, she inquired about a washroom where she could freshen up.

  "Just go yonder through that there door and you'll find a pitcher for water, and the pump is out back," the woman called to her as she stood and continued to fill plates.

  After washing her face and hands, Kitty pulled a comb through her hair and smoothed out the wrinkles in her traveling dress. Hopefully, there would be a place to change into a clean set of clothes before she made her way to Brady's. A secret smile hovered on her lips. Brady was going to be so surprised to see her.

  Back aboard once more, Kitty pressed her face against the window as the train chugged its way through the twisting, turning caverns of the Badlands,—a place that had been home to many Indian tribes. From the great wall, the Indians could stand and see for miles; often giving them full views of where the buffalo roamed and when the bluecoats were coming.

  The beauty of the land intrigued her as sharp pinnacles and spirals jutted up from the buttes in a dazzling array of forms and hues of burgundy, gold, brown and blue. This was all that remained of an ancient sea that had carved its way through what was now the Great Plains.

  Like a black cloud, the Black Hills were shrouded in darkness as Kitty stepped from the train in Rapid City. Never had she seen anything so majestic. The bluffs of the Loess Hills were mere hills, compared to the mountains. Kitty straightened the traveling jacket and skirt she wore. She walked across the train platform and waited for the conductor to place her steamer trunk on the wooden planks to be loaded onto the stage coach that would take her up the mountain to Hill City.

  ****

  The coach bounced and rocked from one large hole to the next, leaving Kitty to sit with her white–knuckled hands hanging onto her seat, fearful any minute the coach would overturn. The road up the mountain was not much more than a cow path. Along the way, Kitty could see the smoke from the tented camps where the prospectors lived, panning for the gold found just thirteen miles south from Hill City at French Creek. The team of six horses had to be refreshed along the way over the twenty–seven mile trek up the mountain. Kitty had spent the night in a station stop, which consisted of a meal of beans and ham along with a square of corn bread. Her bones ached from the constant bouncing of the coach and the small cot she was given to sleep on offered little in the way of comfort.

  The coach driver yelled, "Whoa," as he pulled the team of horses to a stop. Kitty stepped from the coach and looked around her. The Lakota Sioux had named the town Paka Sapa when they claimed it; the miners called it Hilyo. From where she stood, she could see the many saloons and taverns that lined both sides of the street.

  "Welcome to Hill City," the old coach driver said, hefting down her trunk from atop the coach. "Best take care, Little Miss. Don't go wandering around these parts by your lonesome. It's not safe for a pretty young woman like yourself. Hill City is known for having a church every mile for those wanting to confess their sins, but is also known for being pure hell in between."

  Taking the old man's words to heart, after collecting her trunk, she made her way across the street to the Harney Peak Hotel.

  "May I help you?" asked a man in his early thirties, dressed in a three-piece suit and tie. He hardly looked like the ruffians Kitty had seen in the streets.

  "Yes, I'd like a room please," she answered, smiling shyly up at him.

  "Of course. For how many nights?"

  For the first time since Kitty had ventured out on her journey, she didn't know the answer. Just how long would she be staying here? She looked at the wall with the rates posted. Suite: Two bits. Meal and bath: Two bits. With the cost of the train and coach tickets, she was down to the last of her savings. She still had to rent a horse and buggy.

  "One night, please. And I would like a bath and supper, please."

  "Of course. I'll have the girl prepare your bath in your room."

  Kitty peeked out the window of her suite to the street below. Brady, I'm here…now where are you? How on earth was she going to find him? A sharp knock on the door broke into her thinking. Kitty walked to the door and opened it. A young Indian woman stood on the other side of the
door with two buckets of steaming water in her hands.

  "Your bath, miss," she stated, walking past Kitty to a small room off the bedroom. Kitty watched as she poured the steaming water into the porcelain tub. The girl made several trips up and down the stairs until the tub was full enough. Kitty couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for the girl.

  When the tub was filled half full, Kitty stepped into the water. Every inch of her tired body began to relax. As she soaped her body with a bar of scented soap, a thought occurred to her. Brady was part Indian. Perhaps this girl would know about him. It was a bit far–fetched, but still, just maybe.

  After she'd bathed and had a hot meal, she sought out the girl. After inquiring as to the girl's whereabouts from one of the servers in the dining room, she made her way down the street amid the hoots and hollers from the men coming in from the mining camps, excited at seeing a white woman walking the street alone.

  She stood before a white, two-story boarding house with green shutters and knocked. An older woman with her white hair pulled up into a bun on the back of her head answered the door.

  "May I help you? If you're looking for a room, we're plumb full up," she stated, wiping her reddened hands on the big, white kerchief apron she wore.

  "Oh, I—um…I'm staying over at the Harney Peak Hotel. I was told this is where I could find a young Indian girl who works there."

  "Oh, you mean Sage. Yeah, she's here. What she done? Steal something from you? I never heard tell of her ever stealing, or having any kind of trouble as far as that goes…but you just never know about them injuns."

  "Uhh…no, no," stammered Kitty. Her father's harsh words about Brady echoed through her mind. A wave of sympathy for the young girl washed over Kitty. How could people be so cruel to others? She cleared her throat and answered, "She didn't do anything wrong. I just would like to speak with her."