Gathering on Dance Hall Road

by Dorothy A. Bell

  She screamed and charged, her staff drawn and ready like a pike. She charged at the black figure and stabbed him in the back between the shoulder blades with the deer antlers.

  Howling, Kramer went down, falling over the tongue of Ollie’s wagon. Van scrambled out from under the skewered corpse and came to his feet. Melody jumped the tongue of the wagon and wrapped herself around his waist, weeping.

  “Buxton?” came a man’s voice from the edge of the wagon. Melody recognized the voice. Sobbing, she jumped the tongue of the wagon and ran into the man’s embrace. “Daddy, Daddy Royce.”

  ∙•∙

  Rubbing Melody’s back in soothing circles, her father assured her she had nothing more to fear. “Shhh, now. Everything’s going to be all right.”

  Keeping her safe and under his wing, he shifted her body to his side and glared at Van. “What the hell, Buxton? What are you doing here? The sheriff told me about a Van DeVeer fella. He said he’d taken a shine to Melody, come to her rescue. Said he’d joined up with the Millers to follow her around. What game are you at, Buxton? Where’s this Van DeVeer fella? I want to have a word with him.”

  Melody pulled away, sniffing back her tears. “Buxton? Daddy, this is Hoyt Van DeVeer. He rescued me twice, Daddy.”

  Her father huffed. “Like hell he did. This is Van Buxton. I’m askin’ one more time, Buxton, what game are you at? You been playing around with my daughter?”

  Melody shoved herself out from under her father’s protective arm to address Mr. Blue Eyes. Pointing to Van then to her father, Melody demanded answers. “Van, you know my father? How do you know my father? How does he know you?”

  Her father took hold of her arm and pulled her back to his side. “This is Van Buxton, Melody. Ryder and I spent two weeks with him and his father Buck, his sister Jo, and brother Gabe, and his wife Birdie-Alice in Portland during the Jones’ trial. He was there with the rest of his family to give Jo his support. You were over in Boise doing whatever it is you been doin’. What I want to know is, what the hell is Buxton doing here?”

  Melody slapped her father’s hand off her arm and marched up to Van, coming up on her toes to get in his face. “You? You are Jo’s brother?”

  Van nodded, opened his mouth to say something in his defense. She poked him in the chest and he swallowed whatever it was he was going to say and nodded again.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He shook his head at her and yelled. “Well, why didn’t you tell me your real name straight out? I overheard you talking to the sheriff. I waited for you to tell me your name. But you never did. Why is that Miss Melody McAdam?”

  “Oh, no you don’t. You don’t get to turn the tables on me. Eavesdropping, spying. You accuse me of playing games? You’re the one playing games.”

  The sheriff elbowed his way between them and cleared his throat. “We need to get this body out of here,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the crowd that had gathered.

  Van drew himself up and adjusted the hat on his head. “I’ll get Jim and Mick; they’ll have a tarp or something. We’ll get Kramer out of sight.”

  The sheriff put a hand on his shoulder. “Better have someone look at those cuts. You’re bleeding all over the place.”

  Van put his hand on his arm and nodded. He put his head down and stepped around Kramer’s inert body, giving Melody a wide berth.

  »»•««

  Ollie dressed his wounds, her silence and sour expression speaking volumes. “It’s plumb stupid, is what it is, you takin’ off in the middle of the night. You lost a lot of blood, could be infected. A’course I know you got your reasons and all. But it don’t make good sense you runnin’ away. You done somethin’ to that little girl. She’s more settled when you’re around. She used to take off on her horse and go chasing all over. Well, you seen that with your own eyes, didn’t you? She’s got her feelin’s hurt ‘cause you sort-a played a trick on her. But she was tryin’ hard to put one over on you too. So, I say you two are even. Stay and fight it out.”

  “I think I better make myself scarce. Her daddy is liable to come after me with a shotgun.”

  “Oh, pooh, don’t take a genius to know Kit is still an innocent. You ain’t the molesting kind. I knowed it right off. I’d bet she didn’t make it easy for you to resist, but she’s still innocent,” Ollie said, tying off the last bit of gauze to his forearm.

  “I think I can make it a ways tonight. I’ll layup at Weston. It’s not far from here, and I’ll take the east side of Mt. Emily route. It’s steep but shorter than going back to the Emigrant Road.”

  “Well, guess I can’t talk you out of it, so I’ll save my breath. Don’t forget your fishin’ gear. I hope we see you again.”

  “You very well might,” he said and put his arm in his sleeve and adjusted his coat, careful not to disturb his bandage. “I’ll be in Cherry Grove a couple of days to see my sister. Then to Baker City and home. You and Jerry and the boys should come to the hot spring. That’s my home. Hoyt’s Hot Spring. You could have a good soak in our hot water pool. Be good for what ails you.”

  “I’ve heard of the place. We just might take you up on that. Hoyt’s Hot Spring, sure I know I’ve heard of it. I picked up a flyer or something. It’s around here someplace.”

  Van picked up his hat and set it firmly on his head. “Thank you, Ollie,” he said and gave her a buss on the cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

  “You do the same,” she said, tears pooling in her brown eyes.

  Van left Ollie’s wagon and shook hands with Jerry and his sons, being sure to extract a promise of a visit to the hot spring. He skirted Melody’s wagon, cringing to hear her father’s raised voice coming from inside. He tied his bedroll on the saddle horn and tucked the fishing poles and gear next to his rifle scabbard.

  “You leavin’?” Sheriff Rutland asked, coming toward him, a voice in the dark.

  “Yeah. You need me to stay?”

  “No, I don’t. You sure you want to leave it like this?”

  “Yup, I’m sure,” Van said. “It’s better all the way round. I’m glad you showed up. I don’t understand what got you here, but I’m grateful.”

  The sheriff chuckled and tipped his hat back from his forehead. “I, ah, sent a telegram to her pa. She told me not to, but I felt obliged to let her folks know she’d run into trouble.”

  “Ah, ha. I would’a done the same thing. Her folks needed to know someone tried to steal her horse. That horse is a valuable animal.”

  “You lied to me,” the sheriff said. “Why did you do that?”

  Van snorted, leaning his arm on Ranger’s neck. “Hell, I don’t know. Just bein’ a damn fool, I guess. I’m sorry. Really, I am. I’m sorry about this whole damn mess.”

  They shook hands. “No harm done, I s’pose. Her pa rode into town right after Kramer knifed one deputy and cold-cocked the other one. He stole a horse, and I was in the middle of gathering up my gear to go after him. O’Bannon insisted on coming with me once he realized where I was headed, and who I was after. I filled him in on a few details as we traveled.”

  “Details like his daughter had taken up with a drifter by the name of Van DeVeer?”

  “Yeah, that’s about it,” said the sheriff.

  Van took hold of Ranger’s reins.

  “See you got yourself a little pony,” said the sheriff, handing Van the lead for the pony.

  “Yeah. Gabe, my brother, and his wife have a new little one. Thought maybe she might need a pony in a year or two. Gabe’s wife loves horses. She’ll have this little piebald whipped into shape in no time.”

  “Well, have a safe journey home. Whenever you’re in Pendleton, look me up. I’d like to hear how this all ends up.”

  “You’re lookin’ at it,” Van said and mounted, grumbling under his breath.

  The sheriff wagged his finger at him. “I don’t think so. That little girl rushed to save your bacon. Women who don’t care about a fella don’t do that,” he said over his
shoulder, walking away.

  ∙•∙

  “I don’t want to hear another word of protest. This does it, Melody. You are coming home with me,” her father said, pacing the short length of the floor in her wagon. Seated with legs folded ankles to knees, Melody sniffed back her tears and nodded.

  “When we got Rutland’s telegram—horse thieves, broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder, your mother and I…we were panic-stricken. We’ve been afraid of this very thing. It’s not safe for a young woman to be on her own running around with a traveling show. Not safe. No more, Melody. No more!”

  He stopped in mid-stride to glare at her. “You look, I don’t know what it is, but you look different. I hardly recognized you. If you were taller, I’d say you look like your big sister, Tru. Must be the dress. Where did you get that costume?”

  Melody swiped the tears from her cheeks and met his glare with a glare of her own. “It’s not a costume,” she said, chin up. “It’s my mother’s wedding dress.”

  “Your mother? Cleantha? Not Cleantha. You mean your mother, mother.”

  “Yes, the woman who gave birth to me. Minola gave this dress to Tru a long time ago. I saw her put it away in her bureau. I took it the last time I was home.”

  “You took it? You stole it. Melody McAdam, what the hell is wrong with you? Why do you do these things? Wearing boys’ clothes, trick riding in a traveling show, getting mixed up with horse thieves, and now going and talking to that old crone on your own. Are you trying to kill me?”

  “I had to talk to her. She’s the only one who knows about this dress. She gave it to Tru. It had to be important. I had to find out. She made it for my mother for her wedding day.”

  He sat down beside her, his head bowed, his hands clasped together, hanging down between his knees. “How is the old…Minola?”

  “She’s well,” Melody said, braiding and unbraiding the fringe around the bottom of the leather dress. “I brought her some coffee and herbs.”

  He sighed. “I didn’t realize you thought of your parents much. You’ve never said anything—asked about them.”

  “I have nightmares sometimes. This last year, on my own, I’ve been more aware of…of my origins. It started at the school.”

  He groaned and put his head in his hands. “Damn, Melody, I can’t apologize enough for not pulling you out of that school sooner. We had no idea how bad it was. You never said anything. Oh, I guess we knew it wasn’t great. But you wanted to be with Grace and Twyla-Rose, so we…well, we failed you, is what we did,” he said and folded her within his arms.

  “I’m sorry. So tell me,” he said pulling back, “you really didn’t know Van was Jo’s brother? But he knew you were Ryder’s sister, but he didn’t let on he knew?”

  She shot up and started to sort through her clothes, looking for her trousers and flannel shirt. “The rat, he knew all along who I was. He kept calling me Kit, but he knew. Kit’s the name I used when I first joined up with the Millers. I’ve got a few words I need to say to Mr. Van Buxton. Where is he?”

  “Royce?” the sheriff said from outside the wagon. “I’m gonna go see where the Millers have put the body.”

  “Sheriff?” Melody said, drawing back the flap of the wagon. “Have you seen Van? I want to have a few words with him.”

  The sheriff tipped his hat to her. “He’s gone, Ma’am. Packed his gear and gone. Don’t need him for anything on my end. You’re free to go too. Sorry we didn’t catch up to Kramer sooner. Your father’s a good tracker. I was happy to have him along. I’ll go find a place to bed down.”

  “Good night, John,” her father said over her shoulder. Melody ducked under his arm and drew the dress over her head. She rolled it up and stuffed it back in its leather pouch.

  “Thank you for letting us know…sending the telegram,” her father said to the sheriff.

  When her father turned around, she had on her flannel shirt and was pulling on her trousers. “Coward,” she said under her breath buttoning her shirt. “Leave me without a word,” fastening the front of her trousers. “That’s the thanks I get for saving his sorry hide,” fighting to right the sleeves of her jacket. “Abandon me. Sleep with me, then leave. Coward, lying coward. Couldn’t face me, apologize for deceiving me—no. He leaves, takes off in the middle of the night.”

  “Melody? You slept with Van? He—he—you and Van?” Her father spun her around by the shoulders and gave her a good shake. “You tell me right now. Did you sleep with Van Buxton?”

  The shake rattled her brain and her eyes, making everything blurry. She’d been living alone for so long, she’d forgotten about her habit of talking aloud to herself. “What? Well, yes,” she said. “We slept together but…”

  “Hell, and damn the dirty skunk. He’s run off. I’ll track him down and string him up by his heels over the barn door. I’ll strip hide off him and use his dried hide for boot laces.”

  She caught him by the back-waist of his trousers before he could bail out of the wagon. “Wait, Daddy! Wait, we slept together that’s all. Sleep, we talked, and that’s all. There was thunder and lightning. I hate thunder and lightning. Van does too.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Van, try a bit of this broth. Please, Van.”

  “Melody? Kit? Fish wouldn’t bite. Tried, no good.” Something heavy on his chest kept him from taking a deep breath. He rolled from side to side to dislodge it, and his whole body screamed in agony. Coughing, the weight burned and bruised his skin and set his ears on fire.

  “It’s Jo, Van. Van? Open your eyes.”

  “Jo? You fish? No,” he said, rolling his head from side to side, and coughed so hard he thought his chest had split open.

  “Open your eyes, Van. Look at me. It’s Jo. You’re here with Ryder and me at the school in Cherry Grove.”

  He opened one eye. Everything looked steeped in a wavy fog. “Not fishing?”

  Jo huffed and pushed a spoonful of something warm to his dry lips. “Try some of this,” she said. “Come on. Take a sip.” The liquid seeped between his lips. Some of it leaked into his mouth and hit his tongue. He managed to swallow. After three more sips, the fog cleared a bit. Jo, in her nightgown and robe, sat on the edge of his bed, a bed with covers and pillows?

  Jo set the bowl and spoon aside and wiped a tear from her pale cheek. “Night before last Ryder found Ranger and a little pony grazing on the lawn when he went out to secure the grounds for the night.” She leaned over him, pressing her hand to his shoulder. “I recognized your horse. You were in the road, Van. You’d fallen off. You were feverish, laying in the road. I thank God you fell off so close to our door. I shudder to think…well, you made it to our door, thank goodness.” Lips quivering, her eyes filled with tears, she sobbed.

  “Don’t, Jo. Sorry, bother you,” he said and closed his eyes. Behind his eyelids, Melody drifted in and out of the torchlight, smiling, laughing, waving her angel wings, the fringe of her white gown fluttering in the breeze, her beautiful hair flying.

  »»•««

  Awaking, Van squinted against the rude white light on the other side of his eyelids. He attempted to swallow, but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He ran his hand over his face and scrubbed at the whiskers on his jaw, chin and neck. Damn, he was comfortable, warm, in clean-smelling bedding.

  “Van, are you awake?” Jo asked from very close to his face.

  He opened one eye, then the other one and tucked in his chin to focus on her face. “Hmmm.”

  “You’ve been in and out for almost a week, Van. You don’t have much of a fever this morning,” she said, placing her hand on his forehead.

  “And the cuts on your arm and wrist aren’t as red,” she said, turning his wrist and arm to examine.

  “But you need to drink more water,” she said and held a cup to his lips.

  He took a tentative sip, then grabbed the cup and swallowed the contents in three gulps, water dribbling down his chin. Jo refilled the cup and helped him to sit up to take
another cupful. “That’s better. Are you ready to have some broth now?”

  He sank back on his pillows. “Yeah.”

  The bedroom door opened, and Ryder entered. “Good, you’re finally coming around,” he said, a scowl on his handsome warrior face. “You’ve got telegrams. Three of them.” He waved them over his head. “You’ve had quite a time, brother-in-law mine. Sheriff Rutland wired a copy of his official report on the Kramer brothers. Royce sends his regards. Says he’s looking forward to having a few words with you when we gather at the New Year. And Melody sent you a missive.”

  Van groaned and closed his eyes. “She’s mad at me. I ran out on her. I said she’d run out on me first. I beat her to it.”

  “Yeah,” Ryder said, “she had one word for you. You’ve got some explaining to do. Can’t wait to hear it.”

  “Ryder,” Jo said, coming to her feet and putting her hand on her husband’s chest. “Let him rest, gain some strength before you go on the attack.”

  “He messed with my sister. She was torn down and stepped on by those Jones animals who ran the school. She took off, joined a traveling show to heal her wounds. Now your brother’s gone and broken her heart. I want to know what he’s going to do about it.”

  “Enough, Ryder. Leave him alone. At least let him get recovered enough so he can sit up in bed.”

  “I’ll bring you some more soup and maybe a biscuit,” she said to Van, shoving Ryder out the door ahead of her.

  Van closed his eyes and tried to remember how he’d gotten here. About the last really clear memory he had he’d bedded down with Ranger and the pony in the shed at the stage stop in Weston. The stage attendant there served him a breakfast of hotcakes and eggs. He’d even packed him some rations for the trail. They ran out by the time he reached the Grande Ronde River.

  The wounds on his arm and wrist were red and on fire, and he remembered changing the bandage Ollie had put on. He’d bathed his face in cool river water. He’d tried fishing, but he fell in and nearly drowned. From that point on, the memories skipped from point to point with a whole lot of blank pages in-between. He’d frightened a farmer outside of La Grande when he’d ridden into the farmer’s yard to beg for a drink from his well. The farmer held a gun on him until he left. The farmer’s wife did tell him the apples in the orchard were ripe if he wanted one.