Cheyenne Reckoning

by Vivi Holt

  The air was cold against her face and she shivered, pulling her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. The ground was bare of snow, but she could feel the breath of it.

  “Luggage!” called a man at the end of the platform. She hurried over and showed him her ticket. He pulled her single carpetbag from the rest of the pile and set it beside her with a contemptuous look. “There you go, Miss.”

  “Thank you,” she said. In her years of freedom, she’d learned to change the way she spoke. She didn’t want people thinking of her as some no-account field hand anymore. Those days were better left behind her. But even so, she often found herself on the receiving end of disdainful looks and manners that were just plain rude.

  “You need a cab?” asked a voice at her elbow.

  She glanced down to see a small boy standing there, dressed in rags, a cap on his head, his face smeared with dirt and mud. “Ah … no, thank you.”

  He nodded and moved on to the next passenger.

  Claudine picked up her carpetbag, slung the strap over her shoulder and walked across the platform. She didn’t know where she was headed, but she knew from past experience it helped to look as though you did. Hesitation invited trouble.

  At the end of the platform, passengers stood in a long line that led down the stairs and out onto the streets of Cheyenne. She joined the queue, wondering what it might be about. When it was her turn, she found herself face to face with a man whose black vest sported a silver star. “Afternoon, Miss. Any weapons on yer person?”

  She shook her head. “What’s this about?”

  “I’m a deputy sheriff for Laramie County and it’s the law in Cheyenne that any guns have to be checked into sheriff’s custody upon arrival. Ya’ll get them back when ya leave.”

  She smiled. “Oh, that’s good to know. But I don’t have a gun, sir.”

  He tipped his hat. “Welcome to Cheyenne, Miss.”

  “Thank you kindly.” And off she went.

  Claudine ate the last bite of her sandwich, dusted the crumbs from her napkin, tugged it from her collar and set it beside her plate. She’d enjoyed her lunch, even while pondering what to do next. All around her, Cheyenne bustled, busy and determined.

  “Can I get ya anythin’ else, Miss?” asked a waitress, a pencil tucked behind her ear. That was another thing about Cheyenne.

  “No, thank you, I’m finished.” She laid some coins on the table to pay for her meal.

  The girl nodded, scooped up the money and moved on.

  Claudine fetched her luggage from the coat check and wandered onto the street. According to her waitress, Mr. Kellogg’s place was north of town – she could follow the main road for about five miles and she’d see it on her right. Couldn’t miss it, she’d said.

  She sighed. At least it was a cool day, good for walking. She tugged her carpetbag’s strap higher onto her shoulder and turned north, tramping along the edge of the street. She skirted steaming piles of manure and used covered sidewalks wherever she could to get by the horses that waited patiently outside saloons, bars and brothels for their riders to reappear. When she passed the sheriff’s office she saw another line – folks waiting to check or collect their guns, no doubt.

  Claudine strode out of town onto the open road, hoping her daughter would be at the end of the journey.

  4

  Five miles flew by fast enough – nothing but dry grass blown to and fro by cold west winds, the occasional gopher, a long-winged bird circling overhead. Other than one traveler who’d trotted past on horseback, Claudine had nothing else to look at for the entire journey. But she didn’t mind, with thoughts of Gracie spinning around in her head. Seeing her again, holding her in her arms after so many years apart … just thinking of it made her eyes smart with tears.

  When the Kellogg house loomed on her right, she knew immediately what it was. There wasn’t another house like it in Cheyenne or outside it. It was two stories high, shaped like a horseshoe with wings on either side of a central courtyard. Just as the woman in town she’d asked had described it. She stopped at the wrought-iron gate and stared down the long dusty drive. Patches of snow marked the ground where there was enough shade to keep it from thawing completely. She took a long deep breath, pushed the gate open and walked through, letting it swing shut behind her.

  The driveway was simply a pair of wagon ruts peppered with hoofprints, muddy where the snow had melted. She walked to one side to stay out of the mud and lifted her chin as she walked. She didn’t know what she’d find, but whatever happened she knew she’d learn one day what became of her daughter. And she wouldn’t stop searching until she did.

  The front door swung open as she reached it. A man stood there, his black beard shaped into a point, his eyes roving, a sneer on his face. “What?”

  Sweat broke out in a line across her forehead. “Excuse me. I was wondering if I could speak with Gracie Hopkins.”

  The man grunted and waved her in. “Who are you?”

  She followed him inside and set her carpetbag down on the floor with relief, rolling her shoulder to loosen the tension where the strap had been. “I’m a relative – Claudine Hopkins.”

  He nodded, eying her suspiciously. “Didn’t think she had no family.”

  “It’s been a long time.”

  “Stay here, I’ll get ‘er.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  He walked across a great room with high ceilings and disappeared through a door in the back. Claudine stared in wonder at the walls of the foyer, then stepped forward slowly to marvel at an oil painting of a man holding a shotgun in both hands while staring off into the distance.

  Footsteps echoed on the hard floor and the man reappeared, this time with a girl in tow. “Here she is.” He turned on his heel and left.

  The girl stood there, staring at Claudine. She linked her hands in front of her simple blue dress and white apron and bit her lower lip.

  Claudine set her reticule down on the floor and stepped closer to the girl with a smile. “Are you Gracie Hopkins?”

  The girl nodded.

  “Do you remember anything about your family, or where you came from?”

  Gracie shook her head. “No, ma’am.”

  “I’m from Memphis, Tennessee myself.” Claudine waited, but the girl didn’t respond. “How long have you been here at Mr. Kellogg’s place?”

  Gracie tipped her head to one side. “Um … I think two years.”

  “Where were you before that?”

  “Fayetteville, Arkansas. Mrs. Tilly says I was let go to ruin there, but she just means they didn’t teach me no manners.”

  Claudine smiled again, her heart pounding. Had Gracie been in Fayetteville at the same time as her? If only she’d known … “Mrs. Tilly?”

  “She’s the cook here. She’s teachin’ me how to cook too. One day I’m gonna run a big kitchen like she does.” Gracie offered her first smile, seeming to relax with the conversation.

  Claudine’s heart thundered. She’d missed so much. As her throat tightened, she shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Did that man tell you my name is Claudine Hopkins?”

  The girl nodded. “Your family name’s just like mine. Does that mean we’re family?”

  Claudine swallowed. “I think it does.”

  Gracie’s eyes widened. “I’d sure like that.”

  “I’m glad, because I would too. How old are you, Gracie?”

  Gracie’s nose wrinkled as she concentrated. “Mrs. Tilly says I’m eight or nine, she don’t know which. But I’m gettin’ as tall as a weed in summer.” She chuckled.

  “You sure are tall – just like me,” replied Claudine. And you know, it was about eight years ago I lost my baby girl.”

  “You did? How’d ya lose her?”

  Claudine dropped to her knees in front of the girl, took her small hands and squeezed them as tears flooded her eyes, making her vision blur. “Some bad men took her from me. They sold me to a family to work for them and sold my baby girl to an
other family.”

  Gracie frowned. “That was mean.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “What was your baby girl’s name?”

  “Her name was Gracie Hopkins.”

  Gracie’s mouth fell open. “But that’s my name!”

  “I know, baby, I know …” Tears spilled down Claudine’s cheek as she traced Gracie’s jaw with her fingertip. “I’ve been looking for you ever since,” she whispered.

  Gracie’s eyes glimmered with tears and she fell against Claudine’s shoulder with a cry. “Mama!”

  Claudine clasped the girl’s head to her shoulder and wrapped her other arm around her waist. “Yes, it’s Mama.”

  In the distance, she heard voices arguing. As they drew nearer, she felt Gracie jolt, then pull away and wipe her eyes with the hem of her apron. “… leave a child with a perfect stranger. You should know better than that, Mr. Hannigan! She’s under my supervision and you didn’t even tell me.”

  “I told ya,” protested Mr. Hannigan, clearly the man who’d let Claudine in.

  “Only after I asked.” A buxom woman with long gray hair pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head bundled into the room. Mr. Hannigan trailed behind, his hat in his hands and a contrite look on his face. “I’ve been looking high and low for the girl and you just … ah, here she is. Gracie, I’ve been searching for you …” The woman pulled up short. “And who is this?”

  Claudine stood and held out her hand. “Hello. I’m Claudine Hopkins.”

  The woman lifted her nose, ignoring Claudine’s outstretched hand. “Stan shouldn’t have let you in the front door. If you wish to visit a member of the staff, there’s a back door you can come to. And you should know better than to ask to see a child without her guardian’s permiss … Hopkins, you say? Are you a relation?”

  Gracie opened her mouth to speak, but Claudine cut her off. “Yes, a … cousin.”

  “Well, that is nice. I’m glad to discover Gracie has some kin. The poor child doesn’t seem to know a thing about herself or her family. But still, there are rules to follow in this household. You may go, Stan.”

  The man nodded and left, his face still red.

  Claudine felt a little embarrassed herself. “I’m sorry, Mrs. …”

  “Tilly. I’m Mr. Kellogg’s cook, and Gracie’s guardian.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I was hoping I might get a chance to visit with Gracie a little while, seeing as how we haven’t seen each other in so long.”

  “Well … she’s supposed to be helping clean the fireplaces and get supper. But I suppose she can have a few minutes. Did you bring a wagon? You’ll have to pull it around back if you did.”

  “No, ma’am, I walked.”

  “All the way from Cheyenne?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, that is quite a walk. Come, then – you can catch up in Gracie’s room. It’s back here. And bring your bags with you – we can’t leave them scattered all over the foyer.”

  Claudine picked up her bags with a nod and followed Mrs. Tilly and Gracie down a long hallway and through a spacious kitchen cluttered with pots, pans and various foods. Beyond the kitchen, Mrs. Tilly opened a low door and stepped aside to allow them both to walk through it. “Here you go.”

  “Thank you,” said Claudine.

  When the door was shut behind them, she set down her bags and glanced around the room. It was dark and small, with just a thin pallet on the floor and a lopsided tallboy for furniture. The one window was high up in the wall and narrow, letting in only the smallest sliver of dull light. “This is your room?” asked Claudine.

  Gracie nodded, twisting her hands together. “Are you really my mama?”

  “I believe I am.”

  The girl smiled. “I always wanted a mama.”

  Claudine cupped Gracie’s cheeks in her hands, her eyes welling up again. “You’ve always had one. I just couldn’t find you, but I’ve been looking.”

  Gracie sobbed and covered her mouth with her hand. “So what’ll you do now?”

  “I’m heading for Canada. “I mean to say … we’re heading for Canada.”

  She brightened. “We are?”

  “Yes. It’s where we were aiming for eight years ago when they caught me and took you from me.”

  “But Mrs. Tilly …”

  “Mrs. Tilly has no right to raise you. I’m your mother.”

  “She won’t see it that way.”

  Claudine considered her words. “You may be right about that. We’ll have to make a break for it. You think you can do that?”

  The girl nodded uncertainly. “I guess …”

  “I know you can do it. You have my blood running through your veins. Let’s pack just a few things, whatever’s important to you, and you’ll need some warm things to wear, because we’ll be walking some and it’s getting on toward winter. We’ll go back to town tonight, then figure our way north from there. Could be we can catch the train, or maybe there’s a stagecoach heading north.”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  Claudine liked the way the word fell from Gracie’s mouth. She’d wondered if she’d ever hear it and her throat tightened. She grabbed the girl and kissed her on top of the head. “We’ll make it,” she whispered.

  “I’ve got some room in my carpetbag,” said Claudine as Gracie pushed a loaf of bread into the bottom of her own bag.

  Gracie nodded and reached for a handful of jerky curing on a rack beside the kitchen table. She wrapped it in a piece of brown paper and handed it to Claudine who tucked it away.

  A clatter in the great room made Claudine’s heart skip a beat. “We have to go,” she whispered, her eyes wide. They hefted their bags over their shoulders and tiptoed across the kitchen. Claudine peered down the long hall toward the great room. She couldn’t see anyone, but once they were in that hall there was nowhere to hide should anyone come. Perhaps they should’ve gone through the rear of the kitchen and out the back door, but Gracie had told her there’d be plenty of Mr. Kellogg’s men that way, since it led to the barn and the stables.

  She wondered where Mrs. Tilly was, or Mr. Hannigan with the black beard. Gracie said that he helped Mrs. Tilly out around the house but seemed to hate every moment of it.

  She nodded to Gracie and they set off down the hall. They reached the great room and she stopped to scan it. It looked clear, and she could see the front door standing ajar only yards away. All they had to do was get across this room, down the long driveway and they’d be on their way. She tiptoed in, Gracie on her heels.

  “Where do you two think you’re goin’?”

  Claudine spun around to find Stan Hannigan, eyes narrowed, hands on his hips. “Out,” she said, her heart jittering.

  He shook his head. “Let’s just ask Mrs. Tilly about that, huh?”

  She swallowed, stuck out her chin and stood straight. “Sir … Gracie is my daughter. Mrs. Tilly doesn’t have a right to her. She’s coming with me.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t care if she’s Queen Victoria – you’ll have to ask Mrs. Tilly before you take her anywhere.”

  “Run!” cried Claudine. Gracie, eyes wide, sprinted for the front door. Claudine turned to follow, but Mr. Hannigan grabbed her around the waist. “Let me go!” she screamed.

  He spun her around to face him. “You’re not goin’ anywhere,” he snarled.

  She could sense Gracie behind them in the doorway, unsure what to do. They were so close, and this foul-breathed cad wanted to stop them, stop her from finally being with the daughter she’d lost so many years ago. She wouldn’t let that happen. She slapped him hard across the face and tried to squirm out of his grasp.

  His eyes narrowed, he slapped her back, making her cry out in pain. Anger burning deep in her gut, she shoved his chest with both hands, then slapped him hard again and again while her whole body arched and bucked, trying to break his hold on her. At first he growled at the assault but soon he began to laugh and she felt her fury rise higher.

>   Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of metal. He’d pulled a gun and raised it toward her head. “That’s enough of that,” he declared, all humor drained from his voice.

  She stopped squirming, but her nostrils flared. “Let me go.”

  “Nope.” He shook his head and cocked the weapon.

  Was he going to shoot her? Maybe he’d shoot both of them. Claudine wasn’t about to wait for him to decide. She lunged for the gun, grabbing it with both hands to push it away.

  The sound of it firing exploded through the room. Her ears ringing, she reeled back, stumbling away from him. She watched him collapse to the floor, a look of shock on his face as blood poured from his chest, pooling in the cracks of the wooden floor.

  As Gracie gasped behind her, she crept forward to look down at the man. He lay still, staring unblinking at the ceiling. She’d killed him. The realization of what she’d done made bile rise in her throat.

  “Hey!” Another man walked into the room, his dark eyes wide.

  Claudine sprinted for the door. “Run, Gracie, run!”

  They ran, out the door and into the front yard, empty save for a few saddled horses hitched to a post. They couldn’t have been there long, she thought as she ran; someone must have just arrived, since she hadn’t seen them when she came in.

  The man was gaining on them - she could hear his footsteps echoing in the room behind them, then thundering over the dirt and grass. They’d never make it. Tears threatened and she gasped in great lungfuls of air. She could see Gracie’s carpetbag bouncing against the girl’s back as she ran, and wondered what would become of the girl once they were caught. She’d be arrested for what she’d done, and Gracie would be all alone again.

  Then something caught her eye up ahead – another man on a pale horse, its sides shiny with sweat and its regal head held high, galloping into the yard. They were caught! The man drew a shotgun from a scabbard on his saddle, and the sound of a shot resounded through the air. Gracie squealed and dropped to the ground, and Claudine ran to her side, falling to the ground with a sob. “Gracie! Gracie!”