Cassie shook her head. “Getting all these supplies takes time.” And money. She should have gone to the bank and changed that fifty. Whatever possessed Jason to carry bills of such size? She realized she knew the answer before she asked the question. How could she have missed it all this time? He liked to look big and successful, and that’s what probably drove the show into bankruptcy. “Let’s get a move on, then.”
Since most of the cattle and George were lying down, it took some whistling and Othello’s nipping at their heels to get them up and stretched and in forward motion. Cassie sat in the driver’s seat of the wagon, waiting patiently. She should get down and go check on their patient, but she decided that could wait. Surely Chief would come and take over the reins, and if he did, she was going to ride horseback for a change, even if it wasn’t on Wind Dancer. This sitting on a board seat was hard on the rear.
They’d driven a couple of miles before Chief finally rode up. “How is Runs Like a Deer doing?” she asked.
“Restless. Not like towns.”
“So where is Pine Ridge Reservation?”
“South and east of Rapid City.”
“And we go through Rapid City?”
He shrugged. “If you want, but the valley is south and west.”
“There are other routes?” Sometimes—no, make that often—she wished that Chief, and Micah too, would be a little more forthcoming. A real conversation would be a pleasure. Like being hit with a board, she missed the show, the friendly chatter, and people helping one another, more like a family than a business. Within seconds fury lit a fire in her middle. If Jason Talbot had been handy, so help her, she would have used him for a target. His hat first and then—
She jerked herself back from such contemplations. He’d managed to destroy her entire life with his announcement that they weren’t making enough money and were closing down. She tried to ignore the inner turmoil. Interesting how often this was stealing up on her and trying to slam her to the ground. She watched the horses pulling the wagon, the scenery, anything to get her mind off the past. She glanced to the side. Chief had left sometime during her backward skip in time. Now she couldn’t even ask him to drive so she could ride. Anything sounded better than thinking those thoughts again.
But her mind refused to obey and brought up another point. What about the roll of bills he’d given her? Not that it would have gone far in paying all those people and keeping them and the animals fed. She felt it still in her pocket. After seeing the man at the store eyeing it, she realized what a stupid thing she had done by taking the entire roll into the store. Castigating herself ate up a couple more miles.
The sun was still high in the sky when Chief rode back to say he thought they should stop for the night. After being on the trail for the better part of two weeks, the livestock were growing weary and he thought it best to stop early. She followed his lead and drove the wagon off the road and into an area that already had a fire pit. Obviously other travelers had used this for a camping spot.
“River is right over there.” Chief pointed toward the west. “I will get wood.”
She watched him ride off, wishing it were her on the horse. She could drag wood in as well as anyone. Why didn’t she tell him that? After all, who was in charge here? She was, supposedly. One more strike against her today. Instead, she climbed down and stretched before unhitching the team. Exchanging their bridles for halters with lead ropes, she led them over the little rise and saw the river about a hundred yards away. Micah already had the cattle and spare horses standing ankle- and knee-deep and drinking their fill. Wind Dancer lifted his head and nickered a greeting.
Knowing the team shouldn’t drink much water yet, she pulled them back after a short time and, much to their dislike, led them back to the camp and tied them to the wagon wheels.
Opening the door to the wagon, she was surprised to see Runs Like a Deer waiting.
“You’re using your crutch.”
She nodded and patted the wood stick propping her up. “Come out.”
“If you want, but I don’t know how you’ll manage the steps. You shouldn’t put weight on that foot yet.”
The woman eyed the steps, awkwardly sat down in the doorway, and using her good foot, she scooted down the first step. She sat for a moment and then slid down the second. With her crutch, she pulled herself upright and walk-hopped to a nearby rock. She sat down and took time to catch her breath.
Cassie realized how weak the woman was, but wasn’t surprised, since she’d been in bed for nearly a week by now.
“Very good. How we’ll get you back up, I don’t know, but I guess Micah could carry you.”
Chief dragged in several large branches with plenty of limbs and dropped them by the fire pit. Coiling his rope, he tied it back to the saddle and dismounted to remove the saddle and bridle and let the horse loose to join the others. The team nickered and stamped their feet, so he let them go too. They all dropped their heads to graze not far from the camp.
Cassie climbed into the wagon to get the matches and, while there, stuffed the roll of bills into a corner of her trunk under her clothes. Back outside she handed Chief the matches, as always, marveling at the ease with which he started fires.
“Don’t need matches.”
“I know, but you have to admit this is faster.”
His grunt was a standard reply. “Make biscuits?”
“We don’t need to. I brought fresh bread from the store.”
“Good.”
“I could make biscuits.”
Cassie spun to stare at Runs Like a Deer. “How?” she blurted out.
“You bring the flour and all here, and I make them. Use the frying pan.” The woman could speak far better than she’d led them to believe.
And here she’d been wondering if Runs Like a Deer understood her. Feeling more than a little disgruntled, Cassie shook her head and climbed back in the wagon to fetch the ingredients. Might as well let her make them. They could save the bread for breakfast and for sandwiches for the noon meal. She picked up flour, lard, salt—what else was needed? She’d seen the cooks at the Wild West Show make the biscuits using milk, but she didn’t have milk, so water would have to do. A can of baking powder on the cupboard shelf caught her attention, and she grabbed that, along with a bowl and a spoon, before returning to the now crackling fire.
Watching Runs Like a Deer carefully, Cassie resolved to learn how to cook. No matter how few ingredients they had now, it wouldn’t always be this way. Once they reached the valley and built a real house, things would be different. Not that she’d ever lived in a house of her own, but she knew how to dream.
She thought of one of the ranch houses they had seen during their travels. Built of logs with a rock fireplace and chimney, it fit into the trees nearby as if the spot were created just for it. From that moment she’d had a dream. Something new for her. A home of her own in her father’s valley of dreams, as she’d come to call their destination. Of course she had dreamed before but always about being the best in the business, or just about improving what she was already doing.
But a home of her own—with curtains at the windows, a place to grow flowers like her mother had always dreamed of doing, a big kitchen stove with an oven to bake biscuits in. She had a lot to learn about cooking and gardening and anything else that needed doing, but she knew she learned quickly. The trick was having a good teacher.
Surely the Black Hills would be more beautiful than the land they’d been traveling through these past days. While she had to admit she had seen some signs of beauty, like the rusts, vermilions, and oranges in the leaves of some trees and the yellows and golds in others on these many miles, she’d also seen enough rocks and scrub trees and dust to last several lifetimes.
Runs Like a Deer stood up on her good leg, and holding out the cast-iron skillet, she handed it to Chief, who was squatting by the fire, feeding it larger wood chunks as he broke them off the branches. He set the pan on a rock beside him and continued
feeding the fire.
“Do we use the dried venison tonight?”
“Soaking.”
“I was wondering when you would set snares for rabbits again.”
“Tonight.” Chief flipped one of his braids that was hanging down toward the fire over his shoulder. “Prairie chickens roost in that tree by the river.”
Cassie looked to where he pointed. “When?”
“Early dark.”
“Will they come if I’m over there?”
“Not too near.”
“Once they are up in the tree, you can get closer,” Runs Like a Deer said, joining the conversation.
———
When the sun was behind the horizon but the sunset was still blazing above the hills on the other side of the river, Cassie went into the wagon for her long gun. Would she be close enough to use the shotgun? Since she wasn’t sure, she brought out both and the ammunition.
“Shotgun is good.”
“I just shoot them out of the tree?”
Chief nodded. “The birds are small, so we cook them on sticks.”
Cassie returned her rifle to the storage box and strode off toward the river. When she got close enough to the tree, she hunkered down behind a rock and made herself comfortable. Othello left Micah with the cattle and came to her to get his ears rubbed before flopping down beside her.
She had just started to feel the evening cold when the whir of wings caught her attention. A bird flew in and settled itself next to the trunk of the tree. If she’d not been watching she would have missed it, because he disappeared when he quit moving. As she watched, two more appeared and then a flock flew in together. Reminding herself to mentally mark which branches had birds on them, she heard another rush go by. These were so close, she was sure she felt the air from their wings. She kept stroking Othello’s ears so he wouldn’t move and scare them away. Once the birds seemed to have settled down and the evening star appeared in the west, she crept forward. Othello bonded himself to her knee. While she heard the birds rustling, none flew away. If only she could see them better.
When she was within ten feet of the trunk, she lifted her shotgun and aimed at a bump she thought must be a prairie chicken. When she pulled the trigger, two birds bounced off some branches and fell to the ground. Afraid all the birds would fly away, she immediately blasted the tree again and reloaded, and within minutes she had what she thought must be ten. Othello sniffed one of the lifeless bodies and looked up at her for instructions.
“Bring them here.” She should have brought a bag to put them in. She picked up a couple of them, wishing for at least something to tie their feet together.
“You done shooting?” Micah called from somewhere behind her.
“Yes.”
He rode up, his horse snorting at the smell of blood. “I’ll put them in the saddlebags.”
She helped him stuff the limp bodies into the bags and tied the latigo so they wouldn’t fall out.
“Good.”
“Thank you. That was sure different than shooting in a match.” Often in a match they’d shot clay pigeons, and when they’d used live birds, she had never picked them up. “I’ll meet you back at camp.”
“Be careful. Hard to see.”
“I know.” She and Othello trudged after the horse and rider, the gun over her shoulder. “Well, I can shoot them, but I sure don’t know what to do next. Gut them, I suppose, huh, Othello?” We need these for food, so there is no sense in feeling bad about shooting them. After all, God provided quail in the wilderness for the Israelites, and here He is doing the same for us. That thought made her feel much better. Even so, she was glad she hadn’t seen them up close and alive on the ground.
The dog stopped tracking something and came to walk right beside her, close enough so her hand could trail on his head. By the time they arrived at camp, Chief and Runs Like a Deer had half of the birds gutted, feathers removed, and the meat on spits over the fire.
“What are you doing?”
“Skinning them so don’t have to pluck feathers.” The woman tossed a piece of something over to her dog, still under the wagon, and then a piece to Othello. “Gizzards,” Runs Like a Deer answered before Cassie could even ask.
Since there seemed to be nothing for her to do, Cassie returned to the wagon and brought out her cleaning supplies. Sitting down on the wagon steps, she cleaned her shotgun, all the while listening to Chief and the woman talk in their native language. Not that they said a lot, but she had no idea what was being said. That bothered her too. It looked like lately just about everything bothered her.
Cassie put her things away and stopped long enough to light the kerosene lamp. While the lamp was running low on fuel, she decided not to refill it at the moment. Instead, she looked around the tight space, trying to determine what she could put away so there would be more room to move around. Strange that she’d not bothered to do this earlier, but it wasn’t like there had been any spare time. She began opening drawers and cupboards, realizing quickly that Jason had used only a few of the spaces or had removed things before he left. Some contained housekeeping things, some were empty, and some she had already used.
There was no food anywhere, other than what they had bought and brought. She used the lower drawers for clothing and the cupboards for foodstuffs, so they would be out of the way if any mice found their way inside. If she could get her trunk emptied, they could tie it to the back of the wagon.
She lost track of time as she moved some things and sorted others. One drawer was stuffed with papers and envelopes, letters, and what looked to be bills. She heaved a sigh. If all of these were unpaid, no wonder the show went belly-up. She pulled the drawer out of the wall and set it on the table so she could see better. The farther down in the drawer she dug, the farther back she went in time.
Micah knocked on the doorframe. “Supper’s ready.”
“Thanks. I’ll be right there. It sure smells good.”
When Cassie finally went outside, Runs Like a Deer handed her a full plate, with steam rising off of it. “Thank you. These fresh biscuits look so good.”
Cassie sat down on a low rock near the campfire. Chief and Micah were already chewing the meat off the bird bones.
Micah raised the carcass he’d been eating. “Really good. Start in.”
“Thanks, I will.” The first bite made her close her eyes in bliss. Good did not begin to cover it. “And I thought chicken was good. This is delicious. Why have we not done this before?”
“Didn’t see any birds roosting like that. Some sleep on the ground, harder to find.” Chief slid a bird off a stick and onto the Indian woman’s plate, then handed it to her.
“Well, I hope we find plenty more such trees.”
“Different than shooting deer?”
Cassie knew he was teasing her, so she just nodded and kept on eating. It was different, a lot different. She’d shot birds for years, and while she’d never eaten pigeons, maybe someone had. Shame to waste all the meat if pigeons were as good as these. She cleaned up the juices on her plate with her biscuit. Now this was some supper.
“Will we have birds like this at Pa’s valley?”
“Lots of deer and elk.”
Cassie groaned. “That’s not what I asked.” She tossed the bones to Othello, scrubbed her tin plate, and went back inside. The lamp was nearly empty. She blew that one out and shook the lantern. Plenty of kerosene in that one, so she lit it and went back to her sorting, making sure she opened every envelope and read every piece of paper.
She opened one envelope and found a five-dollar bill in it. Who had left it there? Surely this wasn’t far enough back to be her father. What a gift! First God gave them quail and now cash. This was easy to be thankful for. Besides, if there was one envelope with money in it, there just might be another.
After adjusting the wick in the lantern so she could have more light and tucking what she now called the money envelope under the drawer for safekeeping, she dug in again. Now i
t seemed more like a treasure hunt than a duty. Unpaid bills went in a pile for trash, receipts in the same pile. This envelope was heavy. She opened it. A gold piece. She just found a gold piece! Thank you, Lord. She held the coin up to the light. A gold piece.
“I’ll bet Jason never looked in here, or that would be gone for sure.” She rubbed it on her pants to bring up the shine and then tucked it into her pocket for now. “Back to digging.”
Someone was laughing outside. Was that Micah? What was going on out there? She debated stopping what she was doing, but the lure was too great.
Supply lists for the show, letters regarding booking shows. Did Jason not keep a record of expenses and receipts? She stopped and glanced around the wagon. A row of small cupboards surrounded the interior of the wagon right under the ceiling. She had never gone through those either.
“You want coffee?” Micah asked from the doorway.
“No, thank you. I want to see what’s in this drawer.”
“More bird ready.”
“Save it for the morning.” She was nearing the bottom of the drawer. She pulled out the final handful of papers and found another envelope, this one with her father’s handwriting on it. Out came what looked to be a legal document with the word DEED printed at the top. She leaned closer to the lantern so she could read the faded ink. If only there were someone she could ask about this. She read the paper, not understanding the numbers but realizing this was the deed to the valley.
Her father’s valley, his valley of dreams. He owned it. He didn’t just dream of it. Four hundred acres in a valley near Hill City, South Dakota.
Was this truly the legal deed? Would Chief know anything about this? Four hundred acres. How much land was that? A lot for a ranch or a little?
Deed in hand, she opened the door and stepped down. Othello greeted her with his usual delight. The dog under the wagon growled, as was also his usual response. Trying to appear nonchalant when she was about to burst with good news took some doing.
“Chief, do you remember my father signing a deed to land in his valley?”
Lauraine Snelling - [Wild West Wind 01] Page 12