LEGEND of the DAWN: The Complete Trilogy: LEGEND of the DAWN; AFTER the DAWN; BEFORE SUNDOWN.

by J. R. WRIGHT

  “Oh, Tom!” Bright Moon watered up and came in for another hug. “Tana Star?”

  “She’ll be staying with Cola for a while.”

  “Cola have her. We should go, Chaska.”

  “In the fall, if everything is okay here on the prairie. I don’t know how this will work out yet with the Dakotah.”

  Little Moon and Rain then came up and warmly greeted their grandfather. He had liquorish sticks for the two of them, and store bought wool socks for them all, in case he didn’t make it back before winter set in.

  When Luke left the following night, Chaska and Tom Too rode with him as far as the Cheyenne River before turning back. Luke planned to make a pass by Bordeaux’s to be sure Tana Star hadn’t changed her mind about staying before heading on back to the ranch. And then, maybe in a week or so, he would go to Cheyenne for a few weeks to take care of business there. Getting away from the gloom that hung over him there, he hoped, would do him some good.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  There was mail waiting for Luke when he arrived back at the ranch. Among the letters was one from Anne Budd, which he set aside for now, not knowing if when answering it he was ready yet to tell her that his wife of six years was dead. He had never told Anne his latest was Indian, knowing as an easterner she may have a contrary view of that, having no knowledge at all of that race of people that the newspapers over there often referred to as savages. And he wouldn’t do it when he wrote this time.

  “Where’s Tana Star?” Mary came to the office door. She didn’t know he was back until this moment, since the man never announced himself. He just drifted in, as he often drifted out: silently.

  “Now Mary, I know you’re going to think badly of me for this, but I thought it was for the best…”

  “You left her with Cola, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did.” Luke glared. “As I was saying, I thought it was for the best.”

  “She’ll come to visit, I hope.”

  “Yes. They promised to come often. And we’ll have her summers, after this one.”

  “Good!” Mary responded, and then she was gone.

  “Mary?”

  “Yes, Tom,” she returned.

  “It’ll be okay.” He came from behind the desk and went to her, arms outstretched.

  “I know,” she sobbed miserably for a time, her face buried in the cavity of his shoulder. “I miss White Bird so much.” She pushed away and dried her eyes on her apron. “But at least I have Bree now.” She sniffled. “She’ll soon be helping out in the kitchen, if that’s okay?”

  “You’re the boss of the kitchen, Mary. But sure, that’s fine with me, if that’s what you want. You know this place wouldn’t be what it is without you and Calvin. I don’t know what I’d do without either of you.”

  “Oh, poo!” Mary whirled and headed for the stairs with the intention of asking Bree to bring the baby down, visit for a spell before supper. The kitchen was so quiet now.

  Back in the office, satisfied all would heal eventually, Luke went through the rest of the mail. There was a letter from Titus Oxley at the bank. He opened it immediately.

  It seemed a man named Oliver Wiggens wanted to buy an entire block of property adjacent to the area set aside for the capitol grounds. Luke remembered Wiggens. He was the Englishman at the Cattleman’s Club who was undecided about getting into ranching, as many others of the group had. Now he wanted to buy some of his prime property. For what, he wondered? A hotel, maybe? But that didn’t concern him. The hotel business had turned out to be not as clamorous as he thought at first. It was profitable, but a sleazy business, of which Willie Wilder knew how to milk for every dime possible. Rates frequently changed, Luke learned one day when going over the books. What rented one day for ten dollars, could very well be fifteen or twenty the next, depending on the demand, Willie explained. That was not the way Luke wanted to do business, he told Willie right then and there. Wilder, however, pointed out with a few calculations, that the hotel would slowly go broke at the low rental rate, and likewise with the higher as a constant, being less people would rent rooms at that figure when things were slow. So the rates needed to vary to profitably fill the hotel each and nearly every night. So be it, but he still didn’t like it. Surely Sarah could have rationalized the matter in her mind. She had been in that business in Independence before selling out and investing the money in this ranch.

  As far as Wiggens was concerned, Luke would discuss that with Titus when he got to Cheyenne in a week or so. He had hoped to retain all the property in the area of the capitol to be sold later, once a capitol building, at least, was under construction. And that may not happen for a number of years, due to budgetary problems being suffered through presently. The U.S. Congress still had a firm grip on the purse strings of Wyoming Territory, and a new capitol building didn’t seem to be included in any proposed increases.

  Another letter from Henri Snively was among the letters, which turned out not to be a letter at all, but rather a clipping from some eastern newspaper. The article stated another expedition into the Black Hills was ordered, this one for the sole purpose of discovering valuable mineral deposits. As if the one led by Custer the previous year wasn’t for that purpose. This one, however, made up of scientists, was called the Newton-Jenney expedition, and was ordered by the Interior Department, the very people who were in charge of protecting Indian lands against outside intrusion. Another conflict, Luke noted. It seemed now no one in government was on the side of the red man.

  The article went on to say that the group and their equipment would be transported by rail to Cheyenne Wyoming Territory and from there go overland to the Black Hills. Escort for the expedition would be provided by soldiers from Fort Laramie.

  Now Luke wondered if this wasn’t the mysterious wagon train containing mining equipment, lumber, and supplies that Bordeaux spoke of. This made him wonder if the article was old and the expedition was already in the area.

  With Chaska now resigned to let them have the Hills for the time being, why should Luke be concerned with this latest development? But he was! If the Lakhota owned the Paha Sapa, as was set down in the Treaty of 1868, then shouldn’t they also own the valuable metals on and beneath it? Absolutely, he concluded, and anger over the matter consumed him once again.

  Anne Budd’s letter, as it turned out, was more cheerful in tone than most he’d received from her over the years. It seemed Harry’s health, even though still not good, had improved considerably. He could now go for short walks and spend time in the sun at a nearby park. Luke was happy for her, in contrast to his own depressing situation. Considering that for a moment, he reaffirmed his earlier thought, and would not return a letter just yet. Perhaps while in Cheyenne, he would find the strength to break the news to her of White Bird’s untimely death.

  Feeling lethargic now, he went to the parlor and poured himself a whiskey. While there sipping it, he looked out the window to the beautiful garden White Bird had planted and maintained with the help of Mary every year. And among the rows of corn, already four feet in height, a strange woman, or more like a young lady, with wheat colored hair was hoeing asunder a new growth of weeds. Her brown dress dragged over clods as she turned up fresh soil.

  Luke had no idea who this person was. In fact there were no females on the ranch of that age. It wasn’t one of the wives, he knew all of them, and no children here were yet of that age either.

  Mary, who was happening by at the time, saw something had caught Luke’s eye, the way he was slightly stooped at the window peering out, and stopped to investigate.

  “What are you looking at?” she asked.

  “Who is that?” he came upright and turned to face her.

  Mary went to the window and with one glance said, “Oh, that’s Jenny… Garrett Chapman’s sister. She came while you were gone.”

  “How did she get here? Garrett is from Texas.”

  Mary shrugged her shoulders. “I guess she came on the train. Grady brought her from
Cheyenne last trip.”

  “Why’s she here?”

  “Just came for a visit, I guess. She offered to hoe the garden, so I’m letting her. I guess she wants to earn her keep.”

  “How old is she?” Luke asked, thinking of something Tom Too had told him on his recent visit, and he peered out again.

  “Too young for you!” Mary chuckled and poked her fingers into graying hair rolled atop her head.

  “Mary!” Luke scolded. “I was just wondering!”

  “Sixteen or seventeen, I suppose. You’ll see her better at dinner.”

  “So, she eats here?”

  “Where else would she eat? Would you have her take meals next door with Grady and the remaining single hands? Same food, I guess she could just as well.”

  “Not at all, Mary! If she’s Garrett’s sister, she’s family. At least there won’t be an empty spot at the table now to remind us,” Luke thought on the brighter side, and he poured himself another whiskey.

  “Any chance of her staying on here?” Luke regained his original thought. Perhaps Tom Too would take a fancy to this Jenny Chapman on his next visit. She was about the right age. And, by all appearances, quite attractive.

  “If we make her welcome, perhaps she will,” Mary returned. “Why do you ask?”

  “Bright Moon is of a notion her children should all marry white. Tom Too is of the age now…”

  With that, Mary went on with her work, shaking her head as she went.

  Seeing her go, Luke turned back for one more look at the tall girl in the garden. He would keep an eye on that one and instruct all here to make her stay as pleasant as possible. She may be the persuader needed to lure another of his grandchildren here to stay. If it ever came to pass that he had them all at the ranch, maybe that would be enough to convince Chaska and Bright Moon to make the move as well. He could hope, couldn’t he?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  When Luke arrived of an evening at the Empire Hotel, Willie Wilder near immediately inquired about White Bird. He was so accustomed to seeing Luke and her arrive together, he was concerned.

  “I’m only going to say this once, Mister Wilder. So I suggest you tell the rest of the employees here, so I don’t have to relive the ordeal twenty-four more times. Misses Hill fell off her horse... Well… to make the story short, she’s dead, Willie!”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Wilder said without saying anything farther. He had grown to appreciate White Bird over the years and was saddened by the news. However, he knew when Tom Hill was like this it was best to keep your distance.

  “Thanks, Willie.”

  “Mister Hardy is in. Would you like me to ring him, sir?”

  “Please,” Luke said and watched Wilder go to the proper numbered rope that when pulled would ring a bell in the corresponding room signaling the occupant to come to the lobby. It was a feature Kenny Hardy had installed during the remodel, when the additions were being built. “Have him join me in the parlor when he arrives.”

  Kenny Hardy came up beside Luke at the bar a quarter hour later. “Sorry about White Bird. How are you holding up, Tom?”

  “After losing three wives, you’d think I’d become hardened to it, but it hasn’t become any easier.”

  “Three?” Kenny questioned. “I had no idea.”

  “There’s a lot about me you don’t know, Kenny. But I’m not about to get into that now. How’s things going with you?”

  “Too good. I can’t seem to keep up with it all.”

  “Are you complaining? You’re getting rich, Kenny.”

  “I am that, thanks to you, Tom.”

  “You have nobody to thank but yourself. I should be thanking you. I’m making money three ways on those houses you’re building: first on the sale of the lot, then on the sale of the house, and then a percentage of the interest on the house loan.”

  “Well, I’m not doing as well as you, Tom. But I do have a big job coming up that should net me a small fortune, when finished. There’ll be ton of money spent on this one.”

  “Now you have my interest?”

  “I can’t tell you, Tom. I had to sign a nondisclosure agreement. Of course, everyone will know soon enough, if this thing goes through.”

  “Now you got me wondering. Would a guy named Wiggens be involved?”

  “How’d you know?” Kenny seemed genuinely surprised.

  “I don’t know anything. I just know he’s planning something.”

  “So you know him?”

  “No. We met some years ago over at the Cattleman’s Club. But just that once. He’s English. So what’s he up to?”

  “Honestly, I can’t tell you. I could be sued. This is top secret stuff.” Kenny laughed.

  “Have a drink, Kenny.”

  “You know I don’t drink, Tom.” Kenny laughed. “So you won’t be getting anything out of me that way.”

  The next day at the Cheyenne merchants bank, Titus Oxley revealed to Luke the deal for the property as proposed by Oliver Wiggens. “Well, he’s offering twenty thousand for the block, which he wants dead center across the street on the north side, from the land set aside for the capitol. He was very specific about that.”

  “So what’s he planning to build?”

  “He wouldn’t say, just that in no way would it have anything to do with patronage.”

  “I don’t believe I understand? If he won’t be relying on customers in any way, how will he profit from whatever he plans to build.”

  “Search me! I’ve lost sleep trying to figure that one out,” Oxley said. “Office building, like they have in eastern cities, is the best I can come up with. But surely there would be no demand for that until a capitol building is built. Besides, twenty thousand dollars is way too cheap for the property. It’ll be worth four or five times that in the future.”

  “Do you think he’ll pay more?”

  “I don’t know. What figure do you have in mind?”

  “Try double that, and see what he says.”

  “And if he doesn’t go for it?”

  “Then sell it for whatever he’s willing to pay.”

  “That’s generous,” Oxley said with a smile. “Knowing you, there’s a reason behind it. Certainly you don’t need the money right now.”

  “I have a feeling that whatever Wiggens has in mind to build there will be an asset to the area, is all.” But that wasn’t the real reason he wanted this to work out – it was Kenny Hardy. Luke wanted Kenny to get the project he was so excited about last night. And if it did come to pass that the structure became a landmark, they would both win out in the long run.

  “Okay, Tom, I’ll get in touch with Wiggens straight away. We’ll see what happens,” Oxley said. “By the way, did you receive a letter from Gustavus Swift?”

  “I did, about nine months ago. Why?”

  “He wrote me saying he never got a response. He wondered if perhaps you were unhappy, for some reason, over the sale of the steers. He said he invited you to Chicago, hoping the two of you could cement a longterm relationship. He wants all your good quality beeves, Tom. And he’s willing to pay a premium price to see that he gets them.”

  “So, you think I ought to go to Chicago, is that it?”

  “I do, and the sooner the better.”

  “Okay, wire him. Tell him I’m leaving tomorrow. Hell, I’ve got nothing better to do for a few weeks.”

  “That’s the spirit. Will you be taking White Bird with you?”

  “Ox, White Bird is dead…”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Luke arrived in Chicago three days later. Having never traveled by rail, it was hard for him to believe the distance covered in such a short span of time. In the time it took to travel from the Tea Cup to Cheyenne on horseback, he was in Chicago, a thousand miles away. His only complaint was the miserable back ache he suffered near the entire way. He attributed that to the constant vibration felt from uneven rails. Other than that, it was a thrilling experience he vowed to do more of in the future.


  There was a two horse carriage waiting for him at Union Station when he arrived. With all the hordes of people milling about, Luke felt lucky to have spotted the colored driver holding up a small chalkboard with TOM HILL printed on it. Then it was another chore for the driver to get the large carriage from curbside out onto the busy street. But once they got there, the trip through the three hundred thousand population city was both interesting, and at times inspirational, with its grand architecture.

  Finally they came to the Union Stockyards, where so many thousands of cattle, hogs, and sheep awaited sale and eventual slaughter by one of the many packing houses in the area.

  Once arriving at Swift and Company, the enormity of the place was overwhelming. There were several square blocks of huge multistory buildings, all engaging in the processing of meats and the byproducts thereof.

  A porter met the carriage when it came to a halt in front of a more elaborate building where men exited and entered dressed like St. Louis bankers in their three piece suites and silk top hats. Luke felt a bit out of place here, in the fringed buckskins and dusty hat he had traveled in for the past three days. Once through a revolving door, which Luke had never before seen the likes of, he was escorted across gleaming marble floors and through swarms of people to a hallway. From there, the porter led the way to a small room, where a finely dressed man also wearing a silk hat stood by a lever of sorts on the wall. He hesitated there for a second, fearing what may happen once he stepped inside.

  “It’s okay, sir,” the colored porter said, motioning him inside.

  Once the iron accordion gate was glided closed and the lever thrown, the damn room began to move upward, which nearly caused Luke’s knees to buckle. What in hell had he gotten himself into, he wondered? Four floors up the moving room came to a halt in a large room where a dozen or so clerks were busy at desks. None bothered to look up as he was whisked down another hallway to a set of double doors. They were then swung open to reveal an enormous office, with three sides of it windows. And in the middle of all this space was a huge desk, and from behind it came a fully bearded, towering man, at least a decade his junior.