Colorado Dawn

by Kaki Warner

  “Early this morning.” He grinned. “I’m surprised you slept through it. Rough night?”

  “Ah…​restless, perhaps.”

  “But pleasantly so, I’m guessing by that wee smile.”

  “I’ll go wake Ed,” Declan muttered and abruptly walked away.

  “You cad,” Maddie scolded as soon as he was out of earshot. “Now he’ll know what we were doing.”

  Ash laughed and pulled her close for a kiss. “I doubt he cares, love, since he was probably doing the same thing with his wife.”

  Maddie blinked at him in surprise. “But Edwina is increasing.”

  “Aye. And how do you suppose she got that way?”

  “Good morning,” Lucinda called, making Maddie jump back from Ash’s embrace. “Is that coffee I smell?”

  “Before he left, he apologized for being so forward with Maddie,” Ash said later, when they were all gathered around the fire, finishing a quick breakfast of bacon and pan biscuits and stewed apples.

  “I’m more concerned about Silas,” Maddie muttered.

  “Aye.” Ash tossed the dregs of his cup into the fire, loosening a hissing gout of steam. “I almost wished Zucker had stayed so I could make sure he dinna hit the lad again.”

  “I’d feel better knowing where he is, too,” Declan seconded. “I don’t like the idea of him lurking up ahead somewhere.”

  “Assuming,” Lucinda put in, “that we believe what he said about the landslide and change our route accordingly and head up toward Blue River.”

  Ash turned his head and looked at her. The woman had a sharp mind. He appreciated that she had so quickly grasped their dilemma. “If we do, we could be playing right into his hands.”

  “And into an ambush,” Declan added.

  Edwina Brodie looked from one to the other. Ash could see she was showing the strain of travel already. Brodie had told him she had a delicate stomach. She looked it this morning. Her face was drawn, her eyes shadowed by dark circles. He found himself imagining how Maddie would look with his babe growing inside her. Then remembering the one she had lost, he wondered if they would be given a second chance.

  “But if we stay on our original route,” Edwina Brodie argued, “and there really is a landslide, we would have to backtrack several days.”

  “And probably miss the statehood vote,” her husband said.

  “And I might miss my meeting with the owners of the Denver Pacific,” Lucinda added.

  “But the alternative could be worse,” Ash stated, “if we ride into an ambush.”

  In the end, despite the possibility the road might be blocked and the delay might cost Declan his statehood vote and Lucinda her meeting with the railroads, they decided to continue on their original route. As the sheriff said, “Better late than dead.”

  Within an hour, they were packed, harnessed, and traveling again.

  They crossed Red Hill Pass just after noon, and because the grade was relatively gentle and didn’t overly strain the mules and Miss Hathaway’s pacer, Ash allowed only a brief stop to water the animals and pass out cold rations of jerky and canned fruit before he had them moving again.

  The ladies groused a bit, but he dangled before them the promise of a warm bath and soft bed if they made Jefferson by nightfall, which perked them up considerably.

  It still felt like a snail’s pace to Ash, and he was grateful he was able to spend the long day on horseback rather than bouncing along in a wagon like a bluidy sheep farmer. Even so, they made good time and were rolling down toward the Jefferson Creek bridge when Tricks warned him of riders advancing on their flank.

  Wheeling Lurch, Ash rode back past the buggy. Waving Miss Hathaway to continue on, he pulled in beside the wagon to warn Brodie.

  “Can you see who it is?” the sheriff asked.

  “No. Keep going. I’ll catch up.” Reining Lurch off the track, he wound through the trees until he came to an elevated position with a good view of the road. He stopped and checked his weapons, levering one of his homemade scattershot cartridges into the carbine and making sure the chamber of his pistol was fully loaded. Then he called Tricks to his side and waited.

  Two riders. Moving briskly, but not at a pursuit gallop. He watched them approach, then smiled when he saw who it was. Sending Lurch out of the trees, he galloped down to intercept Thomas Redstone.

  “What are you doing here, heathen?” he asked as Thomas reined in. Ash glanced past him at the other man bouncing up behind him. A cleric. And one who dinna sit his horse particularly well.

  “This man wanted to talk to your wife.”

  “About what?”

  Thomas tipped his head toward the round-­faced man reining in beside him. “His brother. Ephraim Zucker.”

  Seventeen

  “Goddamnit!”

  Si jumped to his feet as Clete came stomping down the path from his perch in a pile of boulders above the road. Quickly, he stuffed the photograph of him and the dog into his pocket. “What’s wrong, Clete?”

  “They took the other road, that’s what! Bastards! How we going to get the woman now?”

  “What woman, Clete?”

  “What woman do you think, moron? The photographer.” In a furious motion, he swiped his hat at Si’s head. “Damnit, we need to find that claim!”

  Silas stood for a minute, not sure what to do. When Clete was mad, he knew better than to talk to him. But they’d been sitting here forever, and he was hungry and thirsty and the wind was turning cold. Finally, the waiting got to him and he broke the long silence.

  “So what are we going to do now, Clete?”

  “Shut up, you idiot! How can I think with you yammering at me all the time?”

  “Okay, Clete.”

  “ ‘Okay, Clete,’ ” his brother mimicked. “Christ! If I had a partner with half a brain, Zucker would have already told us where the claim is and we’d be sitting rich. Now we got nothing!”

  “I’m sorry, Clete.”

  “Yeah, I know you are. You’re the sorriest damn thing ever walked this earth. I ought to kill you now and do the world a favor.”

  Si watched an ant crawl across the toe of his boot. He wondered what it felt like to be so small. So small the wind could blow you far away and Clete would never even know you were gone. He smiled, imagining it.

  Clete paced back and forth, kicking at rocks in his path. “We’ll have to go to Denver. See if Zucker registered the claim. If he did, we’ll have to forge a bill of sale, and reregister the claim under my name. If he didn’t, we can file on it ourselves. Once we find the claim.”

  He paced and thought, then abruptly stopped. “Bud Purvis. Heard he was dealing faro at one of the hog ranches up there. He’ll help us. Remember ole’ Bud, Si?”

  Si did. Bud kept a tarantula in a box. He would sometimes let it crawl around in his beard. But mostly, he liked to tease Si with it. Si hated crawly things. “Why do we need him? He’s mean.”

  “That’s why we need him, moron. And also because these foreigners we been following don’t know Bud from Adam’s house cat. Who else can I send into the registry office to ask about the claim? You, moron?”

  “No, Clete.”

  “That’s right.” Clete paced some more.

  Si sat down again. He didn’t know what Clete was talking about. He was hungry and cold and tired and wished he was back with the picture lady and Tricks and the big man who talked funny. They had lots of food.

  “After he checks on the claim, Bud can help me grab the woman out from under that crazy Scotsman’s nose.” Absently Clete rubbed the bruise on his neck. “Hell, maybe we’ll take the Scotsman, too. Let him watch us take turns on his wife, then skin him and leave him staked on an ant hill. I owe him that, at least.”

  Abruptly Clete laughed and cuffed Si upside the head, almost knocking him off the rock he was sitting on.

  “Maybe I’ll give you a turn on the woman, too, since you seemed so taken with her. Or better yet, sell you to the perverts at one of the vice
palaces. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Si? Yeah, I can hear you blubbering now.”

  Jefferson was a one-­street village perched like a wart on a flat plain that was bordered by rolling hills sparsely covered with stunted, wind-­bent pines. It looked like a town that wasn’t sure of its purpose—­ranching, farming, timber, or mining. So it made halfhearted attempts to cater to each and ended up meeting the needs of none. Like Heartbreak Creek, it was a ghost town in the making.

  But it did have a hotel that served meals and a barn at one end of town that boarded animals. Tricks was posted there to stand guard over the buggy and wagon, while Thomas, who preferred to sleep outside, made camp in the trees nearby. It took Ash several attempts to make the dog understand he was to stay, but the wolfhound finally accepted the separation from his master and settled in for the night.

  An hour later, the travelers met in the dining room. Because there were now seven in their party—­probably the biggest group the dining room had ever served—­the hotel kept the kitchen open late to accommodate them. A tureen of stew with vegetables, fresh rolls, and a warm berry cobbler sat on the table awaiting them when they arrived.

  “There’s no landslide at Kenosha Pass,” Declan said as he took his seat beside his wife. “Hasn’t been one in years.”

  “So I guess we avoided an ambush.” Lucinda settled into the chair on the other side of Edwina. “But I still don’t know what that other Zucker wants.”

  “Or who he is,” Maddie added.

  They had the room to themselves and so dinna have to worry about eavesdroppers when the reverend repeated all he’d told Thomas and Prudence Lincoln at the sheriff’s house on Elderberry Creek.

  “I knew he was evil the minute I saw him last night,” Edwina pronounced as she ladled stew into bowls and passed them around. “You can always tell. It’s in the eyes. And his were different colors, at that. That man was as ugly as homemade sin.”

  No one argued the point. So the discussion moved on to speculation about what might be the purpose of such a ruse.

  Declan Brodie remained silent throughout, and Ash guessed the sheriff had reached the same conclusions he had. “The only way he would know enough to pose as you, Reverend Zucker,” Ash said during a lull in the speculations, “is if your brother told him about you.”

  Maddie shook her head. “I don’t think he knew more about the reverend than his name. He wasn’t dressed for the part, and when I mentioned the letter you sent me, sir, and that you were meeting Ephraim in Omaha, he seemed surprised.”

  “Perhaps he intercepted a missive from you to your brother,” Edwina suggested. “If so, that would give him your name and that you were from Pennsylvania.”

  “But that wouldn’t explain how he came into possession of the third copy of the photograph,” Maddie argued. “Unless your brother gave it to him.”

  “Not willingly.” Lucinda looked around at the doubting faces. “Think about it. If Ephraim told him about the reverend and gave him the photograph, why didn’t he also reveal the whereabouts of the mine?”

  “Maybe he did,” Edwina said.

  “Then why is he still harassing Maddie about its location?”

  No one had an answer to that.

  “So the only things we know for certain at this point,” Brodie said between bites of biscuit, “is that Ephraim Zucker is missing, and the man impersonating the reverend doesn’t know the location of the mine.”

  “Perhaps the claim was never registered,” Edwina suggested. “And the imposter is trying to find it so he can file before Ephraim can.”

  The reverend shook his head. “No, he registered it. In his last letter, he said the paperwork was already on its way to Denver.”

  “Then your brother should have a copy of it,” Brodie pointed out. “That way, if this imposter tries to jump the claim, your brother can prove he staked it first.”

  The reverend sighed. “I don’t know where the papers are. I don’t even know where my brother is.”

  Or if he’s still alive, Ash thought, exchanging a look with the sheriff.

  “Then how can we help the reverend and make sure this imposter quits harassing Maddie?” Edwina looked at Maddie, her blue eyes bright with worry. “It’s all so unfair.”

  Ash reached over and put his hand over his wife’s. It felt cold and small under his. “He’ll not get near my lass,” he said flatly. “Tricks and I will make sure of it.”

  Maddie rewarded him with a grateful smile. “I don’t doubt it.”

  Brodie pushed his empty plate aside. “And meanwhile, we can check with the mining office in Denver. See if a claim has been registered to Ephraim Zucker. Then go from there.”

  Maddie smiled apologetically at the reverend. “I’m so sorry I can’t remember where I took that photograph, Reverend. I took so many over the last two years.”

  “I understand, Mrs. Wallace. It was rather a long shot, I’m afraid.”

  “I will find this claim,” a deep voice cut in. Everyone turned to stare at Thomas. Those were the first words he had spoken throughout the meal.

  “How?” Brodie asked.

  The Cheyenne took another bite of stew, chewed for a moment, then said, “I know where it is.”

  The reverend almost hopped to his feet. “You’ve been to my brother’s cabin?”

  “When I was there, there was no cabin. But the peak behind it is known among the People. Faces the Dawn, it is called.”

  The reverend’s round face split into a hopeful smile. He grabbed Thomas’s arm. “Can you take me there? Please?”

  Thomas stopped chewing. He frowned down at the hand gripping his arm.

  The reverend hastily took it away.

  Thomas resumed chewing. “Yes, I can take you there. But first, I must take these people to Denver. They have been gone only two moons and already they are in trouble.” He sighed and shook his head. “White people.”

  Denver was a bustling place. Situated at the confluence of the South Platte River and Cherry Creek, it sprawled across a high plateau, surrounded by distant snow­capped mountains. It was mostly a mining community, which was reflected in the vast number of establishments that catered to lonely prospectors who had more gold dust than sense.

  After various name changes, the town had finally settled on Denver when it had become the territorial capitol three years past. And this year, with the completion in June of the Denver Pacific line from Cheyenne and the last spike of the Kansas Pacific being driven at Strasburg, it was a town ready to bloom.

  Except for those pesky statehood issues.

  “It’s been going on for over a decade,” Lucinda complained to Maddie and Edwina later as she deftly turned the buggy in behind Declan and Ash as they headed back out of the business district. The reverend followed in Maddie’s wagon, and Thomas brought up the rear. “It’s been a mess.”

  They had planned on staying at one of the downtown hotels, but when their husbands saw the desperadoes and drunken miners staggering in and out of the saloons, and the painted women hanging out of the windows calling to passersby, they decided it wasn’t a safe place for their wives. Now they were all headed back to the less commercial area they had ridden through earlier.

  “First, the residents voted against statehood,” Lucinda continued, “because they didn’t want to have to pay to operate a state government, then—­what are you doing?”

  Edwina, seated between Lucinda and Maddie, had leaned forward as far as her stomach would allow. “Look at that hussy!” She glared at a scantily clad woman on the balcony of a glitter palace. “She’s waving at my husband. The nerve!”

  “He’s not waving back, is he?” Lucinda pointed out.

  “He looked.”

  “So did you.”

  “Isn’t this marvelous?” Maddie dipped her head to peer beneath the buggy’s roof struts at a grizzled old man kissing a mule smack on the lips. “I could take photographs here for a month.”

  With a snort, Edwina squeezed back into her p
lace on the crowded buggy seat, her arms crossed over her bulging midriff. “Lucky for him he didn’t wave back, that’s all I can say.”

  “Why would he, when he has you?” Maddie peered through the open doors of a saloon, then jerked back. “Oh my. Did you know they have paintings of naked women in there?”

  “That’s disgusting. Declan better not be thinking of going into one of those places.”

  “Then five years ago,” Lucinda continued, “the residents finally approved statehood and petitioned Congress. But because of an alleged voting scandal or some such, President Johnson vetoed it. Twice. Can you credit that? Sometimes I think Booth should have shot him instead of Lincoln. But now that Grant is president, and if we can get Teller and Evans and Chaffee to quit squabbling long enough to agree on who is to be the second senator, we might pass the vote this time around.”

  “Are we almost there?” Edwina muttered. “I really could use the necessary.”

  “Again?”

  “I can’t help it, Luce. If you haven’t noticed I have a giant Declan-­sized baby bouncing around on my inner parts. It’s a wonder I can function at all.”

  “Oh, you’re functioning just fine,” Lucinda said drily. “In fact, you’ve functioned three times in the last two hours.”

  “You’re counting? I cannot believe you would count the—­”

  “They’ve stopped.” Maddie pointed ahead to where Declan and Ash had reined in before a slightly worn but respectable-­looking two-­storied house bearing a sign in the yard that read, MRS. KEMBLE’S BOARDING HOUSE FOR PERSONS OF QUALITY.

  “That doesn’t look so bad,” Edwina said. “Do you think they have an indoor facility?”

  After the men conferred for a moment, Declan swung down, wrapped his horse’s reins around a hitching post by the street, and walked up the stone path.

  “I do wish he would hurry,” Edwina muttered, tapping her foot on the floor of the buggy in the exact tempo of the painful throb bouncing between Maddie’s temples. “Sometimes he can be as slow as molasses.”

  A few minutes later, Declan came back out, pointed Ash and Tricks around the side of the house, then walked toward the buggy.