“Well, here we are,” Ned declared, uneasily gazing about. They had reined to one side of the main street to be out of the traffic, and were sitting their horses. “We made it in one piece.”
“I feel like a minnow in a big pond,” Crawford said.
Thal shared the sentiment.
The flow of humanity, the seething activity, was breathtaking. Townsmen, prospectors, miners, and more scurried here and there as if they couldn’t reach their destinations fast enough. The prosperous wore expensive hats and suits and gold watches. Those less so wore store-bought apparel. A contingent of Chinese were setting up laundries and shops. Scores of freight wagons and Conestogas lumbered to and fro, or were being loaded or unloaded. Weary mules and teams of oxen lay in the dust to rest.
Thal stared up and down the chaotic street, and realized something. “Any of you see any punchers anywhere?”
“How’s that?” Ned said.
“Cowhands like us,” Thal said. “Do you see any?”
Ned and Crawford and Jesse Lee glanced every which way, and looked at each other in surprise.
“Can’t say as I do,” Jesse Lee said.
“Not a single one except us,” Crawford said.
“There have to be more cowhands somewhere,” Ned said. “We can’t be the only ones.”
“You see any cows either?” Crawford said.
Ned looked and said, “Well, damn.”
Thal turned to Ursula. “You’re awful quiet.”
“And you know why,” she said archly.
“We’ve been all through that, sis,” Thal said. “It’s for the best.”
“Says you.”
Thal sighed. He’d spent the better part of the past two days trying to convince her that it was best she stay in Deadwood, at least until they determined whether American City was the vile pit of wickedness it was rumored to be. Ursula, as he’d predicted, was against the idea. She nearly argued herself hoarse, saying that Myles was her brother as well as his, and she had as much right as Thal did to go on to American City. She was incensed that they were treating her with kid gloves just because she was female, and warned that she would hold it against him the rest of her days if he didn’t let her go.
Thal stood by his guns. He cared for her too much, he’d explained, to let anything happen to her. He thought that would soothe her ruffled feathers, but he was wrong.
“I love you just as much as you love me,” Ursula had replied, “but you don’t see me asking you not to go.”
“You’re bein’ hardheaded,” Thal had told her, which only made her madder.
Now here they were, in Deadwood, and Ursula hadn’t stopped simmering. All she needed was an excuse to give them a tongue-lashing.
Thal was doing his best not to give her one.
Then Ned spoke up. “You’ll thank us for leavin’ you here later, Miss Christie. We’re coddlin’ you for your own good.”
“Is that so?” Ursula said, each syllable as icy as a winter’s frost.
Ned still didn’t catch on. Nodding, he said, “It’s natural for a man to want to protect the weaker gender.”
“Is that what I am?”
“You’re female, ain’t you?”
“Ned—” Thal tried to cut him off.
Ned gestured. “I can speak for myself, pard.” He smiled cheerfully at Ursula. “Needin’ protection is nothin’ to be ashamed of. It’s not your fault you were born a woman. Or that us men are stronger, and can endure more hardship.”
Ursula snorted. “I’d like to see a man give birth.”
“You’re bein’ silly. Men have enough to do without that too. God gave the job to women because you’re the ones who cook and sew and such. Motherin’ comes naturally.”
“I thank you for enlightening me,” Ursula said in a tone that made Thal wince. He’d only ever heard that tone a few times, and always right before a storm that put the one out on the prairie to shame.
“Think nothin’ of it.”
“No,” Ursula said. “I’d rather think nothing of you.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“Pardon you?” Ursula said, and leaning over, she poked him in the arm. “You mealymouthed, pompous, arrogant so-and-so.” She poked him again, her dander rising. “So men are superior, are they?” Another poke. “So women need protecting, do they?” Yet another poke. “It’s a wonder you can dress yourself, you’re so ignorant.”
“What did I do?” Ned said in bewilderment.
“You insulted womanhood. You insulted me. You insulted every man who ever lived. And you insulted yourself.”
“I did all that?”
“You will refrain from addressing me until I simmer down or I might just slap you.”
“Where did all this come from?” Ned said. “If you ask me, you’re bein’ mighty childish.”
Ursula actually hissed.
“Do you hear that?” Crawford said.
“Her hissin’ at me?” Ned said.
“That was the sound of the last nail bein’ driven into your coffin. One of these days we should sit down and I’ll give you pointers on how to talk to females. If there’s anyone worse at it, they haven’t been born yet.”
“I’m not dead yet,” Ned said. “Why are you talkin’ about coffins?”
“Sad,” Crawford said, and shook his head.
“What is?” Ned said.
To forestall more argument, Thal clucked to his chestnut. “Let’s go find a boardinghouse.” He took it for granted the others would follow and was relieved when they did.
Poor Ned looked worried sick. He’d finally realized he was on thin ice with Ursula.
Thal concentrated on reading the signs. It took considerable effort, given his condition. He managed to read a banner that announced the Oyster Bay Restaurant and Lunch Counter, and wondered what lunatic would name a restaurant that, since there wasn’t a bay to be had for a thousand miles. “Let me know if any of you spot a boardinghouse,” he said.
Ned, perhaps to take his mind off his debacle with Ursula, commenced to read the signs out loud.
There was Harrmann and Trebor, Wholesale Liquor Dealers. There was the Big Horn Store, the Tin Shop. Dozens of saloons, half as many eateries. There was already a newspaper, the Black Hills Times. The Progressive Hall, the City Market, the Senate. Books and Stationery.
Thal came to a smaller gulch that branched off Deadwood. Tents and buildings were spreading up this one too, although not nearly as many yet. It was a lot quieter. On a whim he reined up it and hadn’t gone a hundred yards when Ned pointed and hollered.
“Lookee there!”
Thal wrestled with the words on yet another sign and hadn’t quite figured them out when Ned saved him the trouble.
“‘Miss Primrose’s Boardinghouse,’” Ned read. “‘Ladies Only.’”
“Wouldn’t you know it?” Ursula said, scowling. “I was hoping there wasn’t one so you’d have to take me with you.”
“You’ll be safer here,” Thal said for the hundredth time.
“So long as I don’t step outside after dark and never go anywhere without an escort.” Ursula recited his instructions. “Which reminds me. You said that one of you has to stay to nursemaid me. Who gets that job?”
Thal reined broadside to his friends. “Let’s find out. We’ll flip a coin. I’ll call heads or tails for each of you until only one of you is left.”
“Why go to all that bother?” Ursula said. “We already know you have to go because you can identify Myles. And Ned has to go because I’m never speaking to him again.”
“What?” Ned bleated in dismay.
“That leaves Mr. Soames and Mr. Hardesty,” Ursula continued. “Since Mr. Soames is the oldest, he should be the one to stay behind and serve as my protector.” She said the last word sarcastically.
/> “You want Crawford to be the one?” Thal said in mild surprise.
“It’s the proper thing to do,” Ursula said, not sounding at all enthusiastic at the prospect.
“Hold on,” Crawford said. “If it’s protectin’ you need, ma’am, then my pard is a heap better at it than me. I’m not ashamed to admit that he can outdraw and outshoot me any day of the week.”
“I can draw and shoot,” Ned said.
“I don’t know about this,” Thal said. Jesse Lee had made it plain he was smitten with Ursula. To leave them alone might be asking for trouble. “I’d still like to flip a coin.”
“Flip it, then,” Jesse Lee said. “I call tails.”
Thal took a twenty-cent piece from his pocket, tossed the coin high, caught it, and slapped it down on the back of his other hand. Fate had thwarted him. “Tails it is.”
“I stay, then,” Jesse Lee said quietly. He didn’t look at Ursula.
“I can draw and shoot,” Ned said again.
“Give it up, pard.” Thal slid the coin back into his pocket. “Let’s get you a room, sis, and we’ll all go eat.”
For the first time in two days, Ursula smiled. She swung down and walked by his side onto a small porch. Jesse Lee, Crawford, and a muttering Ned stayed on their horses.
“Smell the fresh paint?” Ursula said.
A small bell hung on a hook. Thal rang it and remembered to doff his hat. He heard shoes clomp, and the door was opened by a broad woman with hair as white as snow, done up in a bun.
“Yes? I’m Mrs. Peal. How may I help you?”
“How do you do, ma’am?” Thal said. “I’d like to put my sister up for a spell, if you don’t mind.”
“Sister?” Mrs. Peal appraised them, and nodded. “Yes. I can see the resemblance. Where do you intend to stay, young man? I only take on female boarders.”
“I realize that, ma’am,” Thal said, trying to impress her with his politeness. “Some of my friends and me”—and he motioned at the others—“have to go on to American City.”
“I’ve heard only bad things about that place,” Mrs. Peal said.
“So have I,” Thal said. “Which is why I’d rather my sister stays with you.”
“I see.” Mrs. Peal gave Ursula another scrutiny. “How about you, young lady? Cat got your tongue?”
“I want to go with them, but they won’t let me,” Ursula said.
“I call that smart.”
“I call it bossy.”
A twinkle came into Mrs. Peal’s blue eyes. “I see. Very well, Mr. . . . ?”
“Christie,” Thal said. “Where are my manners? I’m Thal, and this is Ursula.”
“Well, it’s a dollar a day for a room and two meals, breakfast and supper. My rules are simple. There’s to be no liquor. No smoking. No cussing. No carrying on whatsoever. And no men, which goes without saying. If you can abide by all that, Miss Christie, I have one room left and it’s yours if you want it.”
“She does,” Thal said.
“I’d like to hear that from her.”
“Since I have no choice,” Ursula said, “I do.”
Mrs. Peal grinned. “You have a lot of spunk, young lady. I admire that. Bring your bag in and I’ll show you to your room.” She paused. “I almost forgot. There’s another rule. Each day is to be paid in advance.” She held out her hand.
“My sister is paying,” Thal said.
“Better and better,” Ursula said.
“We’ll fetch her carpetbag and be right back,” Thal said. Taking his sister’s elbow, he led her toward their horses. “Will you behave? For all we know, this is the only boardinghouse in all of Deadwood. We were lucky.”
“You were,” Ursula said. She brightened, though, and said to Jesse Lee, “I have a place to stay, Mr. Hardesty. What about you?”
“I can sleep anywhere,” Jesse Lee said, and indicated an empty lot with trees and brush, across the street. “There will do. If you need me, I’ll be handy.”
“I’ll give a holler if I do,” Ursula said.
“You shouldn’t need him for anything except to escort you about during the day,” Thal said. “At night you’re to stay in your room. You hear me?”
“Yes, master.”
“I mean it, sis. None of your ornery shenanigans. You’re to be on your best behavior.”
“You can count on me,” Ursula said.
Chapter 17
Thal didn’t aim to let any grass grow under him. He wanted to get his hunt for his brother over with, collect his sister, and return, safe and sound, to the family farm.
So it was that when he parted company with Ursula, Thal bent his steps to Main Street, heading for a freight outfit he’d noticed earlier. If anyone knew how to get to American City, it would be a company that delivered all over the Black Hills.
On their way there, Ned voiced a complaint. “At times you surprise me, pard,” was how he began.
“What did I do?” Thal said.
“You left a coyote to guard the chicken coop.”
“Don’t you mean a fox?”
“Foxes and coyotes both eat chickens. And now your sister is in the care of one.”
“I knew that’s where this was headed.”
Crawford had been listening. “My pard is no coyote,” he said to Ned. “He’ll watch over Thal’s sis as if she were his own.”
“Who are you kiddin’?” Ned said. “With me out of the way, he’ll have her all to himself. He can court her silly before we get back.”
“I trust my sister not to let things go too far,” Thal said.
“You should protect her better, is what I’m sayin’,” Ned said gloomily.
“By better,” Thal said, “you mean I should have left you with her instead of him.”
“That would be a start.”
“Jesse Lee won the coin toss fair and square,” Thal said. “And he’s our friend, besides. I trust him.”
“Thank you,” Crawford said.
“I never said Jesse Lee was worthless,” Ned said. “But this is romance we’re talkin’ about. It can sneak up on you if you’re not careful.”
“The important thing is that she stays safe,” Thal said.
“So that’s it,” Ned said. “You prefer him because he’s bucked more gents out in gore than I have.”
“You haven’t bucked any,” Thal said. “But you not guardin’ her was her idea, if you’ll recall. You have only yourself to thank, what with all that jabber about men bein’ better than women.”
“She’s in good hands,” Crawford said. “My pard will watch over her like a hawk.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Ned said.
The freight office was busy. Wagons laden with goods were about to depart, and the man who ran the place was going from wagon to wagon, making sure of his inventory.
Thal waited under an overhang, impatiently shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
Crawford gazed the length of the street and pushed his hat back. “Look at them all. I ain’t ever seen the like.”
“Gold fever,” Thal said.
“It’s any kind of rich,” Crawford said. “A lot of folks hanker after a lot of money. I’ve never been that way, but that’s just me.”
“Me neither,” Thal said. So long as he had enough to get by, he was happy. Occasionally he’d wonder if there might be something wrong with him. Other people loved money so much, why was it he didn’t? Did that make him peculiar? He’d finally decided the answer was no. To each his own, as the saying went.
“Here he comes,” Ned said.
Thal looked up.
The freight manager was a burly specimen with a drooping mustache and large jowls. He had papers in his hand, inventory lists, it looked like, and was running a finger down one of them.
“Excuse me, mister,” Thal said. “Can I ask you a question?”
The freighter glanced up, blinked as if surprised, and stopped. “By God, cowhands, unless I’m mistaken.”
“You’re not,” Thal said.
“If you’re looking for cows, I’m plumb out,” the man said, and chuckled at his joke.
“What we’re lookin’ for,” Thal said, “is American City, and I was hopin’ you could point the way.”
The man’s face darkened. “Not that it’s any of my business, but why there, of all places? In case you haven’t heard, it’s hell on earth. A lot who go there don’t make it back.”
“I have a brother to find,” Thal informed him.
“If you want my advice, you’ll leave your brother to the demons.”
“Demons?” Ned said.
“It can’t be as bad as all that,” Crawford said, “or no one would go there at all.”
“Listen, cowpoke,” the freighter said. “I’ve been all over the West. I’ve seen my share of bad places. Some of the cow towns, for instance, when the herds are in. There are shootings and stabbings all the time, and worse.”
“What could be worse?” Ned said.
“I have it to do,” Thal said, “and I’d be obliged for directions.”
“It’s your funeral,” the freighter said. Turning, he motioned at Main Street. “Follow this out of the gulch until you come to a road to the west. In about ten miles it will branch. You want the branch to the northwest, not the southwest. Follow that, oh, another ten miles or a little more and you’ll come to Blood Gulch, and American City. And may God help you.”
“How come they didn’t call it Blood City?” Ned asked. “They named Deadwood after Deadwood Gulch.”
The freighter shrugged. “I wasn’t there, so I can’t rightly say. From what I hear, it was Trevor Galt’s doing.”
“Maybe he’s patriotic,” Ned said.
“Mister, the only thing in this world Trevor Galt cares about is Trevor Galt.”
“You’ve met him?” Thal said.
“Once, and that was enough. I had to make a delivery. I never went back. Anyone comes to me and wants me to take freight to American City, I tell them to use another freight company.”
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