THE Prairie DREAMS Trilogy

by Susan Page Davis

  Anne hesitated then gave him her sketchy description.

  Whitey shook his head. “Don’t sound right, and I know most of the red men in these hills.”

  “There’s fighting south of here,” Dan said. “Is it possible some of those Indians have moved up this way to get away from it?”

  “I s’pose.” Whitey shrugged. “I’m sure sorry that happened to you, missy. And you was out looking for your uncle, you say?”

  “That’s right. I haven’t seen him since I was a baby.” Anne gave him a shaky smile. “I’ve been trying to find him for nearly nine months now.”

  “Well, you’re not awful far from his claim,” Whitey said. “It’s uphill and east of here. Tell you what. I could take you there tomorrow if it ain’t raining so bad.”

  “Would you?” Dan asked before Anne could respond. “I’d be happy to pay you for your trouble.”

  Whitey waved a hand at him. “No need for that. I’d like to see Stone again myself. He tells capital stories.” He leaned toward Anne. “So what brings you to find him now, missy, if you haven’t bothered for most of your life?”

  Anne smiled wearily. “My father passed away last year, and I’ve no close family left but Uncle David. My family had tried to write to him several times, but we hadn’t heard from him for ten years. So I decided to look for him.”

  “And quite an adventure she’s had,” Dan added. “She made the wagon trip from Independence, and a swindler tried to bilk her, and now she’s been robbed by an Indian and nearly frozen to death.”

  “Yup, that’s quite a tale,” Whitey said. “Well, we won’t be too comfy tonight, all three of us in this little shack—more cozy than comfy, I guess you could say. But you’ll be warm, and I’ll put something in your bellies, and in the morning we’ll see if we can find Mr. Stone.”

  “Can we get there on foot?” Anne asked.

  “Oh, it’s a rugged climb, but you don’t look too spindly. I think you can do it.”

  Anne chuckled, and the sound lifted Dan’s heart. She could laugh, and less than an hour ago she was ready to give up and die. Later when she was helping Whitey wash their dishes in a chipped enamel basin, he brought in wood and water then sat listening to her banter with the old man. Whitey was obviously delighted.

  Why had he ever set out from the farm in Champoeg? Dan wondered. He wanted to blame Hector, but he couldn’t. His brother hadn’t forced him to saddle Star and ride out. He wasn’t sorry, yet…Dan couldn’t imagine watching Anne sail away to England. He wanted to help her find her uncle and straighten out the whole mess about the inheritance, but losing Anne again might crush him.

  She laughed, a musical sound that pierced him because he knew that he wouldn’t hear it much longer. Dan squeezed his eyes shut. He should have stayed away and left her in Rob and Dulcie’s care. Because once again, Anne was going to break his heart.

  “It’s chilly tonight,” David said as he and Charlotte stepped out onto the front porch of the hotel. “Are you sure you want to walk?”

  “I had my heart set on it.” She looked up at him from beneath lashes that for some reason looked longer and more luxuriant than they were last night.

  “I wouldn’t want you to take a chill. And besides—there’s no moon to see tonight.”

  She sighed heavily. “I suppose you’re right. But the hotel offers so little entertainment.”

  “Perhaps we could scare up another pair and play cards.” David steered her adroitly toward the door. “There was a couple just sitting down when we left the dining room. Perhaps they’d join us.”

  He could tell Charlotte wasn’t completely mollified. What was going on? She seemed more insistent than a woman who just wanted to snuggle up to him would be. Although he hadn’t done much snuggling lately, David was certain he hadn’t forgotten how, and the woman involved was usually much more compliant than Charlotte.

  They walked back through the lobby, and he looked around for likely companions for the evening. A thin man was reading a newspaper, and two other men sat in the nook to one side, smoking cigars and laughing. None of them struck him as what he was looking for.

  “Perhaps they have a small parlor we could sit in,” Charlotte suggested.

  David almost offered the sitting room of his own two-room suite and changed his mind. He didn’t really want to entertain a woman in his hotel suite, for one thing. Past experience had proven such action could be risky. For another, he happened to know that his was the only suite the hotel offered, and Charlotte might get her nose out of joint if she knew about it. The hotel usually opened it for David when he visited, and in times of great overcrowding—like the days when a new mine opened and the investors came to see it—they would put a bed in the sitting room and rent it as two separate rooms. He suspected it sat empty most of the time, waiting for the establishment’s wealthier patrons to return.

  Although Charlotte had seemed reluctant to go back to the dining room, she presented a charming attitude when David led her to one of the tables.

  “Good evening, folks,” he said.

  The man and woman eating looked up in guarded surprise.

  “Hello,” said the man, standing. “Stone, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. We met this afternoon. This is Mrs. Evans.” He looked at Charlotte. “Mr. and Mrs. Packer.”

  They all exchanged their how-do-you-dos.

  “I hope you’ll pardon us,” David said, “but we had planned to go out this evening and the rain has discouraged us. We wondered if you by any chance would be interested in joining us for a quiet game of cards or just conversation.”

  The couple looked at each other. The woman’s eyebrows rose, and he gathered she was passing the decision to her husband.

  “Might be interesting,” Mr. Packer said.

  David smiled at the woman. “We wouldn’t want to intrude on your plans.”

  “It sounds lovely,” Mrs. Packer replied.

  “Good. Why don’t we wait for you in the lobby?”

  “Perhaps the desk clerk could scare up a card table for us,” Mrs. Packer said.

  The gleam in her eyes made David wonder what he’d gotten himself into.

  The next morning Whitey shared bacon, oatmeal, and coffee with Anne and Dan. When they’d eaten, Anne insisted on washing the dishes while the two men packed a small amount of gear.

  Whitey tucked several small items and some jerky into a dirt-colored pack and added a long-barreled pistol. Then he strapped on a sheath that held a wicked-looking knife. Last of all, he hefted a shotgun and nodded at Dan.

  “You got a pea shooter, Daniel?”

  “No,” Dan said. “My rifle was on my saddle, and I didn’t bring a handgun.”

  “You orta have one,” Whitey said. “Can you hit the broad side of a saloon?”

  Dan smiled. “I reckon.”

  Whitey nodded and held out the shotgun. “Take this, then. I’ll use my Colt if need be.” He turned and looked at Anne, who was hanging up her rag of a dish towel. “Aw, I hate to take you out of here, missy, because I know the likes of you isn’t apt to grace my cabin again. But”—he slapped his thigh—“I promised I’d take you up to David’s claim, and so I will. Let’s get crackin’.”

  They set out in the chill of dawn, but the sun soon made its way up over the hills to the east. Walking kept Anne warm, and within an hour, she paused to shed her cape. Dan rolled it up and carried it under his arm.

  The path became steep, but Dan and Whitey made sure she found good footing. They came out in a clearing from which they could see all the way to the Umpqua.

  “See the smoke yonder, from all the chimneys in town?” Whitey asked, shaking his head. “I don’t wonder the natives are put out with us. Afore you know it, the forest will be all stripped off these hills.”

  “How far now?” Dan asked.

  “We’re more’n halfway.” Whitey turned and picked up the path, which was little more than a deer trail.

  They went downhill for a short ways and
along a hillside.

  Dan stopped and said, “I smell smoke.”

  Whitey swung around and stared at him. “You got a good nose, boy.”

  Dan smiled. “That’s how we found you last night.”

  “It’s true,” Anne said. “Dan smelled your chimney before we saw the cabin.” She sniffed the air. “I think I smell it, too. Is there a cabin up here?”

  “Don’t think so. Lot of claims,” Whitey said, “though most fellas don’t stay in the hills all winter. Most of them are packing up by now.” He peered through the trees on the slope below them. “Well, let’s move along quiet-like and see what we see.”

  He walked stealthily, lifting his booted feet high, and Anne almost laughed aloud. She looked at Dan, and he grinned. “When in Oregon, do as the locals do.”

  Anne followed Whitey, trying not to make a sound.

  After a few minutes, Whitey stopped and looked back at Dan. “You still smell it?”

  “I think so, but my nose may be getting used to it.”

  “There be a stream down in the draw.” Whitey waved vaguely down the slope ahead of them. “I’m thinking someone’s camped there.”

  Dan passed the cape to Anne and lowered his shotgun to the ready position. The two men crept closer, dodging from tree to tree. Anne held back a ways, but stayed within sight of them. Before long, Dan and Whitey stopped and took cover behind two trees. They peeked out and then conferred in whispers. What on earth were they looking at? She glanced over her shoulder, but saw nothing alarming there, and moved closer to the men. The babbling of a small stream reached her, but no other noise beyond the soft wind in the boughs above her.

  Whitey was making signals to Dan, pointing and then making a circle with his finger. Dan nodded and slipped off through the woods to the left. Whitey tiptoed forward and a little to the right.

  Anne crept closer and hid behind the tree where Dan had stood. She peeked cautiously between the branches of the bushy pine. Below her, on the bank of the stream, a man bent over a campfire. Grazing nearby were three horses. Anne could barely contain her excitement as she surveyed Bailey and Star. They looked fine, as did the rangy blue roan that cropped the dead grass near them.

  She sucked in a breath and studied the man. His shabby buckskins looked familiar, but this was no Indian brave with feathers in his hair.

  “Put your hands up,” Whitey yelled from behind his tree.

  The man jumped, dropping his tin cup into the fire, and whirled around.

  “Easy now,” Dan called from the other side of the clearing. “We’ve got you surrounded, mister. Put your hands nice and high, where we can see them.”

  Slowly the man complied. Whitey stepped out from behind the fir tree and walked toward him, holding his Colt pistol in both hands, trained on the man’s chest.

  “Just stand still now. You got any weapons?”

  The man shook his head, then said something too low for Anne to hear. Whitey reached out and unbuttoned the man’s jacket.

  Dan came up from behind with the shotgun pointed at the man. “I got you covered, Whitey.”

  The old man pulled a knife from the prisoner’s belt and patted his pockets, then stepped back.

  Anne couldn’t stand it any longer. She ran forward, gazing at the man’s face.

  “Dan, that’s the man from Uncle David’s farm.”

  “Thought so.” Dan edged around to where he could see the prisoner’s face, still aiming the shotgun at him. “All right, Hastings—and don’t try to tell me your name is Stone. We know better. What are you up to?”

  CHAPTER 15

  What happened last night?” Peterson asked.

  He and Millie had met at the café for breakfast again, though he hadn’t asked her to. She’d gone there thinking he might show up. The food was good, and no one from the hotel was likely to see him here. Sure enough, as she tucked into flapjacks, eggs, and sausage, with a generous side dish of oatmeal, he slid into the chair opposite her.

  “He wouldn’t go out in the rain, hard as I tried to get him to go,” Millie said.

  “Hmpf. Didn’t know he was such a namby-pamby.”

  “Well, a gentleman doesn’t like a lady to get soaking wet and catch her death of cold.” Millie picked up the pitcher and poured sorghum over her stack of pancakes.

  Peterson picked at his eggs and biscuit. He left half of it and gestured to the waitress for more coffee. After she’d poured it and left the table, he leaned toward Millie.

  “You’d better get him out there tonight. I’ll be waiting.”

  Millie shrugged. “If it doesn’t rain again.”

  “If it does or if for some other reason you don’t hold up your end of the bargain, you’d best think about paying me back my hundred dollars.”

  “Can’t,” she said blithely.

  “What, you spent it already in this miserable place?”

  “Part of it.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Yes, I noticed you had some new fripperies last night. Well, you’d better keep our deal in mind. Because I don’t like to be burned in a business deal.”

  He got up and tossed four bits on the table.

  Millie watched him walk away. She liked him less the more she saw of him, but she was in it now. She picked up the coins and put them in her purse before waving to the waitress.

  “Yes, ma’am. Can I help you?”

  “The gentleman had to leave, and I told him I’d settle up. How much was our breakfast?”

  “That’ll be thirty-five cents, please.”

  Millie opened her purse and fished around until she had the right change. “Thank you.” She put the coins in the woman’s hand and added a nickel. “Oh, that’s for you.” She smiled and hurried out to the street.

  “You know this mangy critter?” Whitey asked.

  Before Anne could speak, Dan answered. “We’ve met. He claimed he was Miss Stone’s uncle, but she knew that wasn’t true. Apparently he’s followed us all the way from Eugene and stolen our horses.”

  “What do you need three horses for?” Whitey asked.

  “Wait a minute,” Anne said. “He can’t be the man who took them. He’s not an Indian.” She stared at Hastings’s sandy hair and scruffy beard.

  “I’m thinking in the near dark with some war paint, he might pass,” Dan said, squinting at Hastings. “Take a look below his right ear, Anne.”

  She moved around and stepped closer to Hastings. Dan raised the shotgun an inch as a warning to the prisoner.

  She studied Hastings’s profile and gulped. “It looks like red paint in his beard. But how—”

  Hastings actually cracked a smile. “It warn’t hard. I covered my face and beard with the stuff and scrunched my beard down into my coat collar. A little soot in my hair and a couple of feathers, and I fooled you, didn’t I?”

  Anne blinked at him. Was the man insane? She turned helplessly to Dan. “What do we do now?”

  “We take our horses back,” Dan said.

  “But what do we do with him?”

  “We’d best take him down to Scottsburg and turn him over to the law,” Whitey said. “Stealing horses is a hanging offense, ain’t it?”

  “Wait just a second.” Hastings still held up both hands, and he spread them in supplication. “I wasn’t really stealing them.”

  “What are you talking about?” Dan asked. “You did steal them.”

  Hastings’s hangdog look raised Anne’s ire. “You’re insufferable.”

  “I was just trying to keep you away from David.”

  Anne stared at him. “Whatever for?”

  Hastings’s mouth worked, but nothing came out. He lowered his hands and stared at the ground.

  “We almost died last night,” Dan said. “Miss Stone was overcome by exhaustion and cold.”

  “Sorry,” Hastings muttered.

  Anne stepped closer. “Look at me, Mr. Hastings.”

  Slowly the man’s gaze rose until he looked her in the eye. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Trul
y. I never intended to hurt you.”

  “Then why did you do it? Why don’t you want me to find my uncle?”

  “That should be obvious,” Dan said. “He doesn’t want us to tell Mr. Stone that his employee tried to defraud us and him. I wouldn’t be surprised if when he gets back to his farm, your uncle finds that this man has squandered most of his resources.”

  “That ain’t true!” Hastings looked so pained that Anne feared he would leap on Daniel—or burst into tears.

  She exhaled deeply. “I hate to give up our quest even for a few more hours, but I think Whitey’s right. We need to escort Mr. Hastings into town.”

  “I could take him,” Whitey said. “I’ll tie a noose around his neck and make him walk while I ride the horse.”

  Anne grimaced and looked at Dan. That sounded like an accidental suffocation waiting to happen, and she didn’t like it one bit. If Whitey didn’t strangle the man, Hastings might manage to escape. “What do you think, Daniel?”

  “I hate to say it, but I think we should all go back to Scottsburg.”

  “We’re not far from David’s claim,” Whitey said.

  “He ain’t there.”

  They all swiveled toward Hastings.

  “What did you say?” Dan asked.

  “I said David Stone ain’t at his claim no more.”

  “Where is he?”

  Hastings huffed out a big breath. “Down yonder in Scottsburg, I reckon. But I ain’t supposed to tell you.”

  Anne frowned at him. “Are you saying my uncle is in Scottsburg now?”

  “Uh…well…”

  “I demand that you tell me.” Anne clenched her fists. “What do you know, Mr. Hastings?”

  “Well, I rode up to his claim first thing this morning, and he wasn’t there. Just got back when you folks come by so neighborly.” He eyed Whitey’s pistol and Dan’s shotgun. “I reckon he’s down to Scottsburg. Or I s’pose he mighta gone back to Eugene, but I h’ain’t seen him.”

  “We missed him,” Anne said. The disappointment hit her hard. How many times could this happen?

  “How can that be?” Dan asked. “I inquired at the post office.”