by Trumbo, Kari
Dreams inDeadwood
Book 1, Seven Brides of South Dakota
KARI TRUMBO
Dreams in Deadwood
© 2017 Kari Trumbo
Published by Kari Trumbo, All Rights Reserved
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, without the prior written consent of the author. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible
Author’s note: This is a work of fiction. All locations, characters, names, and actions are a product of the author’s overactive imagination. Any resemblance, however subtle, to living persons or actual places and events are coincidental.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Historical Elements
I dedicate this book to the writers who have helped me so much along the way; Melissa, Kit, Stephanie, Annie, Vivi, Lynn, just to name a few. I always thought writing was a solitary venture, until I put pen to paper and realized that I’d be nowhere without the friends I hold so dear.
Chapter One
Black Hills of South Dakota
May 1892
JENNIE SMELLED A CHANGE on the air as she peered out the back of the covered wagon at the slowly passing spindly trees. Her ma had always said she had a weird sense about coming danger. If only she knew better how to predict it, but it was a fickle gift at best. Something or someone followed them, maybe not close enough for her to see, but they were there nonetheless. She shivered as a bead of perspiration rolling down the back of her neck reminded her they were out in the open, easy prey.
She’d turned eighteen just a few days before, or was it a week? She’d lost count of the days. Her older sister, Ruby, drove their wagon and Ruby’s husband Beau drove the other; there hadn’t been room for all nine of them to ride in one. Her mother had stayed behind in Cutter’s Creek and Jennie was still sore about it. She searched the trees one last time for a sight of anything moving, but the feeling had now dissipated to a low tingle in her blood.
They stopped to camp for the night and as they prepared and ate their supper, they listened to the old circuit preacher, Reverend Level, tell them stories of the Wild West. He was the one leading them to Deadwood, South Dakota. Jennie had been ignoring the tales for the last week or more. They hadn’t even reached Deadwood and she already hated it, had a feeling deep down within her that it couldn’t be a good place, not for her or her sisters. Nothing about this trip had been her idea. She’d have stayed back in Cutter’s Creek if she could’ve. But, Ma had told her to go, told her to watch her sisters. So, she’d obeyed. She always obeyed.
The campfire burned down and Ruby led the smaller children to one of the wagons and got them tucked in on the feather tick in the back. She and her two younger sisters, Hattie and Eva, the twins, would share the tick in the other wagon. Sometimes Ruby joined them, sometimes not. She didn’t speculate where Ruby slept the other nights, it wasn’t any of her business.
Jennie climbed in the back of the wagon and pushed Hattie over a bit so she had room to squeeze in. Hattie swatted at her hand and mumbled something, but rolled closer to Eva. It was a wonder how people could travel all across the country in one of these. She’d probably die first. It was hard work for those doing the leading or driving, or even walking, but for those just riding, it was dull.
A prick of fear had her sitting up and listening. Coyotes sliced the silence with a high-pitched sound; half bark, half howl. Then came the crack of a twig in the distance, and she held her breath, listening. The rumble of Beau’s voice interrupted the cry of the coyotes and she strained to hear what he was saying.
An unfamiliar man’s voice said, “Been walking for some time. My horse went lame a while back and I lost him a few days ago. I’m trying to get to Deadwood.”
Beau answered. “Let me stoke the fire for you. We’re pert near full up on seats, but the preacher we’re trailing’s got room in his cart, if you don’t mind listening to him talk. You’ll have to ask him in the morning. He’s early to bed and early to rise.”
“I’d listen to spooks if it meant I could get off my dogs for a bit.” The man’s voice was scratchy, like he was old or had sat by a fire too long.
Beau laughed and Jennie heard them move to where the fire had been between the wagons. Jennie crawled to the opening of the canvas and peered out, avoiding her sisters, and watched Beau and the stranger from the shadows careful to keep her fingers from view. The stranger looked blonde, though it was hard to tell in firelight. As he took off his hat she gasped at his ragged face. It was buried beneath a thick beard and smattered with dirt. He could be young, or old, it was difficult to tell. His clothes were quite worn and dirty, but they fit him well and the saddle he carried was made of a good leather, she could see the shine of it in the firelight. He had to have been strong to carry it for so long.
“Where’d you come from?” Beau asked. His stance wasn’t necessarily welcoming. While he’d offered the stranger use of their fire, he also rested his hands on his hips, close to the gun always on his belt.
“California. Tried my hand at the pan and lost everything. Heard there’s a mine in Deadwood that’s hit it big and looking for help. Maybe, if I can’t find a spot, I’ll head over to Keystone or Hill City.”
“You go ahead and warm yourself by the fire, the coffee’s cold now, but it’ll heat up fast.”
Jennie gasped and backed further into the shadows as Beau strode toward her, she didn’t want to be caught listening. He veered off to the other wagon and rummaged quietly in the back, returning to the fire with his find. Jennie inched back to the opening, moving carefully over her sisters’ feet so she didn’t wake either of them.
“Here’s a bit of tack. It’s all I can find in the dark and I don’t want to wake the girls. You can bed down under that wagon.” He pointed right at Jennie.
“Thank you, kindly. I’m Aiden Bradly, by the by.”
“Beau Rockford, and you’re welcome to stay, just steer clear of my girls.” His hand moved ever so slightly south and rested on the butt of his gun.
Jennie heard the slight threat in Beau’s voice and shivered. For some reason, now that she saw the stranger she’d felt coming earlier, he didn’t bother her a bit. Though he was set to sleep right beneath her, he’d be below her and could do nothing. She crawled back to her spot and pulled the covers around her ears, cuddling in closer to Hattie. The morning would come soon enough and then she could see what this Aiden really looked like. Man…or beast.
*~*~*
Aiden stared into the fire and toed off his boots. It wasn’t near warm enough to go without, but he’d been walking for days straight and his feet were tender where the blisters had broken, then the boot had rubbed the sensitive
new skin raw. He was happy for the smell of the pine wood as it burned, covering the stink wafting from his feet. He’d learned that if he could get them clean, then dry, he’d be fine by morning. But he’d need new boots before long and his money clip was looking pretty lean.
Beau had left him a cup, indicated where the wash water was, and then turned in for the night. He didn’t intend to stay up too long either, but he had to attend to a few things or he wouldn’t be much help to this family in the morning. He drank a little of the lukewarm coffee and let it sit in his mouth as he took a bite of tack. It was the only way to soften it enough to chew but his stomach was grateful. He’d had to abandon most of his provisions when he lost his horse. Taking only what he could carry.
He glanced behind him at the two large covered wagons and wondered just how many girls Beau had. He said a prayer that he hadn’t come upon one of the wagon trains he’d heard about back in the Rockies, cat wagons, where women were brought in by the cart full to work in the brothels or sometimes stayed in the wagon as a moving brothel. That couldn’t be it though, Beau had mentioned a preacher…hadn’t he? Aiden shook his head. He couldn’t remember what month it was. He was just happy to remember Beau’s name.
Finishing the bit of tack, he plunged the cup in the wash water and carried it back to his seat by the fire so he could see what he was doing. He washed his sore feet, then bound them with two bandanas from the pack he’d carried. He carefully banked the fire and limped over to the wagon Beau had indicated. Laying his saddle down as a pillow and his blanket to cushion the ground, he curled up as tightly as he could to keep warm, and fell sound asleep.
Chapter Two
JENNIE’S EYES FLEW OPEN and she held her breath. Something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t place what it was. She glanced next to her and clutched the blanket at her neck. Both Hattie and Eva were still fast asleep and it was still quite dark beneath the canvas of the wagon. In the distance, she heard Reverend Level whistling a hymn as he built the morning fire, but that wasn’t what had woken her. She was used to his morning noise.
As she lay there it came to her: snoring. Deep, heavy snoring right under her. She crept to the end of the wagon, untied the canvas so she could slip open the back, released the bolts holding the tongue up, and gingerly released it. Careful not to catch her dress on the rough wood, she slid onto the tongue and peeked under the wagon. Her long braid slid down over her shoulder and hit the ground with a soft thud. He was curled in a ball and grass blocked her full view of the man lying there. Aiden. It hadn’t been a dream. And he looked even hairier up close.
A giggle escaped her lips before she could think better of it. She slapped a hand over her mouth, losing her balance on the back of the wagon tongue. She tumbled out, landing with a snapping sound, and crumpling to the ground on her head and shoulder.
Aiden sat up with a start, slamming his head into the bottom of the wagon. “Tarnation! Who’s out there?” He blinked, looking around with wide, sleepy eyes.
Jennie wished the grass in the hills was longer…so she could hide in it. She lay on her stomach, hoping he was too sleep-addled to see her.
“You ain’t hiding from anyone, girl. What’re you doing laying there staring at a man? It ain’t right.” He shook his head and wiped the sleep from his soft hazel eyes.
Jennie glared at him. “Well, sleeping under a lady’s wagon ain’t right, either.” She sat up and crossed her arms.
He laughed. “If I see a lady, I’ll be sure to ask before I sleep under her wagon.” He rolled back onto his pack and began snoring again, almost immediately.
Insufferable man! Jennie rubbed her head then climbed back into the wagon and secured the tongue in place. She was now wide awake, might as well help the reverend if he needed it. If she stayed, she’d just wake up her sisters, if the man’s infernal snoring didn’t wake them first.
Since all their belongings had been lost in a fire, Ruby had found each of them two dresses and one nightgown. Jennie chose her blue dress because it went the best with her eyes. She only took her braid out on bathing days, and they wouldn’t stop for a bath for at least another few days, so she didn’t worry about her hair.
She climbed out the front of the wagon, over the seat and down the wheel, sneaking a glance at Aiden as she walked toward the reverend. Men were, frankly, a rare sight and this one wasn’t much to speak of with his reddish, shaggy beard and scruffy hair.
“Good morning, sir,” she called quietly.
The short reverend with his bushy shock of white hair poked his head around the side of his small cart. “Good morning, child. I don’t usually see you about this early. Was I too loud this morning?”
“No, sir. The man sleeping under my wagon snores.” Her father had done that, especially after a binge of testing his own whiskey. She hoped Aiden wasn’t anything like her father, especially about the drinking. Beau would have him gone in a jiffy if he did. Her sister, Ruby didn’t abide alcohol, which meant neither did Beau.
“Is that a knot on your forehead? What’d you do, hit it on the side of the wagon?” He approached her and touched her forehead gently, his kindly old, gray eyes inspecting her head.
She flinched, not realizing how bad it hurt until that moment.
“You’ll have to ask Ruby if she has anything for that, it’ll bruise up fast.” His brow furrowed and he tapped his chin. “You must’ve really hit it hard.”
Jennie covered the spot with her hand and closed her eyes. How could she hide that from everyone?
“Hmm,” the preacher mumbled. “Let me see what I have here. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you girls wearing bonnets, but I think I might have one somewhere here… I often meet up with poor, young girls in my travels. Sometimes, they are so poor they can’t afford anything. A new bonnet brings a smile to their faces.” He stood up straight and smiled. “And sometimes, it makes their parents a little more likely to listen.” He turned and fiddled in the back of his wagon, moving things around, finally pulling something free. “Here’s one that might work!” He handed her a cream-colored bonnet made for a child. She pulled it on and tied it under her chin, looking up at him and praying she didn’t look as silly as she felt.
“Well, it doesn’t hide it completely, you’ll still need to ask Ruby if she has a remedy.” He nodded. “Want a cup of coffee?”
Jennie nodded. “Thank you, sir.” She sat by the fire and rubbed her hands together, waiting for the reverend to return from behind his cart.
“I get the inkling you aren’t pleased about coming on this trip.” He sat next to her on a stool and handed her a cup, then took a deep sniff of his coffee.
“You inkled right. I’d rather have stayed in Cutter’s Creek with Ma. I miss her. I’ll probably never see her again.” Jennie shifted her feet closer to the fire, a deep yearning for home felt like a hole the size of the hills inside her.
Reverend Level laughed. “From what Beau told me, she was rather taken with a man named Carlton Williams.”
Jennie shook her head and sighed. “She said there was a better chance for me to find a good husband here than in Montana. But that’s foolish. There’s even less people in Dakota than there is in Montana. She just wanted me to keep an eye on the little’s is all.”
“I don’t think your ma lied to you. I think she does believe you’ll have more choices in Deadwood. They run mighty low on good women there.”
“It sounds to me like they run just as low on good men. Gambling, drinking…and all that other stuff that comes with it. I left a good little town to go to a den of demons.” She clutched the coffee tighter to keep from shivering at the daytime thought of the things that had been keeping her awake some nights.
“Now, now. Don’t think that way. Deadwood might have its fair share of trouble, but any new town will. Goodness, Dakota only became a state in ’89, just three years ago. Everything’s new in South Dakota.”
“Except the Indians.”
He chuckled mirthlessly. “Well, yes, th
ere’s that. But you’ve got to remember we’ve been buying up land they used to hunt on. If someone came by your house and moved into your garden, you’d be hopping mad, too.”
Reverend Level stood up and stretched onto his toes. “I’ve used those grounds twice; you can toss them when you’re done. I need to take my morning stroll and have some time with the Lord. Best make some noise to wake your crew. I’ll be clicking out when I get back.”
Jennie nodded and tossed what was left in her cup into the bushes. She turned to see Ruby just emerging from under the wagon, Beau right behind her, his hand possessively on her hip. Both were in the same clothes as the day before but something about that scene was too intimate for Jennie and she turned away, her face flaming hot. How Ruby could allow a man’s touch after watching their parents and after what she’d been through before finding Beau, well, the thoughts couldn’t be borne.
Jennie cleaned up the preacher’s camp then went to help Ruby, Hattie, and Eva with their own. She caught Ruby’s attention, who then strode up to her, narrowing her eyes, and tugged the bonnet off her head.
“Girl. What did you do to your head?” Ruby reached for Jennie’s forehead, but Jennie stepped back out of reach, but not out of sight.
Jennie yanked the bonnet back up, but too late, Aiden joined the growing crowd standing around the ashes of last night’s fire. Heat crept up her neck.
Aiden laughed. “She took a dive out of the wagon this morning and hit her head.”
She wanted to stomp his foot, but she’d have to move to do it. Oh, she’d get him. Ruby pulled the bonnet back a little.
“I’m afraid I have no ice to bring down the swelling.” She gingerly touched the raised knot. “It’s hot to the touch, too. What happened, did you have a dizzy spell?”
Jennie shook her head and left the group to go help the littlest ones get ready. She heard more laughing, mostly Aiden, and her cheeks flamed again. That man was fast becoming a nightmare. Perhaps her initial feelings of worry were correct.