Land of My Heart

by Tracie Peterson

  “That will be a wondrous thing,” Bram said, shaking his head. “I remember how tedious and long the trip can be.”

  “Well, the tribes aren’t taking kindly to their land being infringed upon. They’re afraid the railroad will drive the buffalo away, as well as any other food source. They also understand the rails will bring a permanency to the relocation of whites to the territories and states involved. They’re causing no end to problems. They’ve been murdering surveyors and wreaking havoc with supplies.”

  “I’m sure it’s hard to face the coming changes,” Bram replied sadly. “We knew it was coming, though. Koko’s father and I talked about it on many an occasion years ago. I suppose I’m just as guilty with my ranch and cattle, but the changes will come with or without me. I might as well benefit if I can and benefit those I love.” He smiled at Dianne in particular.

  Cole looked again at Dianne, searching her face as if trying to learn something from her expression. She met his gaze, holding it for a moment before her uncle broke the spell.

  “What of the Indian problems here in the territory? Have you heard anything new on those?”

  Cole nodded. “Had you heard about John Bozeman getting killed?”

  Bram shook his head. “No, I’d not heard a thing about him since he got that town started east of the Madison Range.”

  “Rumor has it that he and his companion were attacked by five Peigan. Mr. Bozeman was murdered and his friend shot.”

  Dianne looked at her uncle, remembering Koko’s brother, Takes-Many-Horses. No one had heard from the young man in two years. Not since he’d shown up at the ranch after he and his friends had killed a group of woodcutters on the Marias. She couldn’t help but wonder if Takes-Many-Horses was also responsible for the attack on Bozeman.

  “Folks are clamoring for a real fort instead of that local militia post Governor Meagher set up. They don’t feel safe. Rumor has it the Blackfoot will make an alliance with the Sioux and Cheyenne and begin a large-scale war.”

  “I thought maybe we’d have some peace since they closed down Bozeman’s trail.”

  Zane had perked up considerably at the talk of the fort. “Has word come as to whether they’ll get approval for the fort?”

  Cole shook his head. “No. As I hear it, President Johnson doesn’t take Governor Meagher seriously. Apparently our governor is always firing off telegrams to the president. Explaining the impending doom. But no one believes him.”

  “But what about the Fetterman Massacre?” Zane questioned. “Captain Fetterman and his entire command were killed last December by Red Cloud and his Sioux. Surely that proves a threat.”

  Cole shook his head and pushed back his bowl. “They don’t see it that way, as I hear tell. The Fetterman Massacre took place near Fort Phil Kearny, hundreds of miles away. Bozeman was killed just east of Livingston, but the circumstances are suspect.”

  “Why do you say that?” Bram questioned.

  Dianne could still not get past the idea that Koko’s brother, with his dark brooding eyes and casual admittance of murder, might very well have had something to do with this attack.

  “Bozeman’s friend Thomas Cover stated that they were come upon by several Indians whom Bozeman at first believed to be friendly Crow.”

  Dianne finally spoke. “But I thought the Crow were hostile to whites.”

  “Actually, some of the Crow have settled down to a friendly, even helpful, relationship with the whites. Since they have essentially closed down Bozeman Trail, they seem to feel the white man capable of goodness. However, that may not last long. I’ve heard there are plans to put all of the Indians on reservations—Crow included.”

  Dianne looked to Bram, wondering what it might mean for their family. Surely Koko and little Jamie wouldn’t be forced away from them. Koko was half white and Jamie was three-quarters. Would it matter to the government that they had lived as whites? Or would it be no better than the way the blacks were treated with their rule of a single drop of Negro blood constituting them to be black? Koko and Bram’s marriage wasn’t legitimate in the eyes of the law. What would happen to them?

  CHAPTER 30

  THE YEARS HAD HARDENED TRENTON CHADWICK. HE’D LIVED A fast and furious life, gambling to keep himself well fed and clothed, avoiding confrontation wherever possible to keep himself alive.

  Thoughts of his life in New Madrid were little more than hazy memories as the months away became years. With the war over, a sense of euphoria was spreading. People were daring to dream again—to hope in the future. The influx of wagons moving west brought more and more settlers to the lonely plains, while progress on the transcontinental railroad promised them a means of rapid travel for the future.

  Coming back to Omaha hadn’t really been Trenton’s plan, but it suited his needs well enough. He rode down the dusty street that Fourth of July morning remembering his previous times here. Grimacing, Trenton couldn’t help but remember the beating he’d taken on account of Annabelle, the saloon girl. He’d thought to look her up at the Looloo Saloon, then decided against it. Why bother? She probably wasn’t even working there anymore—girls like Annabelle had a penchant for moving around.

  Hunger drove him to the first restaurant he could find. A placard outside the door promised they had the best beefsteaks in town. Trenton dismounted and looked around for a moment. The town’s growth was evident. Omaha bore an atmosphere that spoke more than ever of change and post-war prosperity. They were apparently not at all hindered by the fact the government had been arguing for months to move the capital south. Statehood had energized them and whether they retained the capital or not, Omaha was slated for expansion.

  Trenton secured his mount, dusted off his clothes, then made his way to the eatery, still managing a sidewise glance down the boardwalk at the bevy of new stores. New stores meant new money. Who could tell how profitable this trip might turn out to be.

  He was shown to a table by a middle-aged woman clad in black from neck to toe. She greeted Trenton with a forced smile.

  “Good day, sir.”

  Trenton took his seat, noting a full table of gentlemen to his left and a moony-eyed couple on his right. “What’s your special?”

  The woman sighed as if annoyed by the question. “We have the finest steaks this side of the Mississippi. They’re served with vegetables and fresh bread.” She named the price and Trenton nodded.

  “That’s fine. Bring me that and a cup of coffee. Oh, and don’t cook that steak clear through.”

  She gave a curt nod and slipped away without another word. She brought the coffee in the same stilted fashion, then disappeared again until the meal was ready.

  Trenton had to admit that the steak was the best he’d tasted, and he’d eaten steak from Nebraska to Texas. Settling in to enjoy his meal, Trenton was rather annoyed by the vigorous and noisy conversation taking place on his left.

  “Then we force them to build a permanent bridge,” a balding heavyset man declared. The man sat closest to Trenton but would have been the loudest no matter where he sat. His voice held a booming quality that very nearly rattled the windows.

  “They’ve assisted with the pole bridge,” another man commented. “They won’t see the need to do more.”

  “We must make them see the need, perhaps.” This from a softspoken man who sat to the left of the booming voice.

  “They’ll see the need, all right,” the heavyset man declared. “Otherwise we’ll threaten to move the railroad. The capital is moving—we can move too. We’ll build a bridge across the Missouri elsewhere.”

  “Now, now. Let’s not be hasty. A great deal of work has gone into this road. We can’t simply pluck it up and move it across the state. I suggest we propose a meeting and explain the situation. I believe we can make it worth the while of the city fathers to push forward support,” Mr. Soft-spoken explained. “They’re merely cautious because of the amount of money involved.”

  Trenton thought the whole thing rather amusing. When he’d
been in the town years before, he’d heard other people arguing the very same thing. At that time they were hampered by war; now the suggestion was that money held them back.

  “The Indians aren’t helping our cause any,” a fourth man threw out. “The wars to the west are not looked upon favorably by those in the East. Perhaps the Omaha city fathers are being discouraged from supporting the proposed bridge. After all, it would give the Indians an easy means of attack. It would allow them simple access across the Missouri River.”

  “To what purpose?” the boomer questioned. “What possible use would they find with Iowa?”

  Many of the men broke into laughter, but not the man who’d raised the question. A quick glance proved to Trenton that he was not amused by the suggestion.

  The couple to Trenton’s right got up and left. The woman smiled sweetly as she caught sight of Trenton, but just as quickly she returned her attention to the man with whom she appeared so obviously in love.

  Trenton wondered what it would be like to have someone care about him in such a manner. The devotion was obvious.

  I’m a loner, he thought, picking at the remains of his meal. I would be a poor companion for any woman. I’d never be able to settle down to one place for long, and I’m hardly suited to do anything but play cards.

  The summary left his food souring in his stomach. Trenton took a gulp of the tepid coffee, hoping it might settle the turmoil. Instead it brought back a memory of his father. Standing with a cup of coffee in his hands, Trenton’s father had considered his son as he worked behind the counter at the store.

  “I hate being a clerk,” Trenton said as the last customers of the day exited the store.

  “You just hate committing yourself to a job,” his father declared after a long draw from the mug. “If I paid you to lounge around down at the river with your friends, you’d take well enough to it.” Ephraim Chadwick slammed down his mug, shattering the cup into several pieces, causing coffee to soak into the wooden counter and floor. “You’ll never amount to anything if you don’t set your mind to it.”

  Trenton forced the memory from his mind and got up just as the man with the booming voice declared it was time to put an end to government telling free enterprise what to do. Trenton couldn’t agree more. After all, he was about the free enterprise of gambling, and more than once he’d felt the confines of government as it declared laws against his trade.

  He smiled. The men at that table would no doubt give little consideration to Trenton’s line of business, although Trenton would be willing to wager money that he’d see these men in a game or two before the week was out.

  He paid for the meal, then made his way outside. He mounted his horse, a black gelding he’d bought in Texas, and rode silently to the more advantageous part of town. A collection of saloons and bathhouses was interspersed between hotels and other businesses. Choosing the classier establishments, Trenton urged the horse to the left.

  “Trenton Chadwick! Trenton!”

  The feminine voice sounded from behind him, and shifting in the saddle, Trenton found Annabelle Tevis waving and calling to him. She wore a more respectable cut of dress than he’d seen her in the last time they’d shared company.

  “I didn’t realize you were back in Omaha,” she declared breathlessly as Trenton dismounted.

  “I just got here. It’s good to see you.” And it was good. In spite of his need to refrain from commitments and relationships, seeing a friendly face was always comforting.

  “Are you still working at the Looloo?” he asked as he tied the black to a hitching post in front of the hotel.

  “Oh no. My brother makes a good living and he’s helping me to get respectable,” she announced, tilting her chin up as though she had just assumed some finer quality by merely mentioning respectability.

  Trenton pushed back his hat and eyed the young woman. “I guess I didn’t realize you even had a brother.”

  “Geoff ’s a good man. He’ll be here in just a minute and I can introduce you. He was mighty happy to hear what you’d done for me.” She pushed an annoying piece of frizzy red hair back into her bonnet and smiled. “There he is. Geoff! Geoff, I’m over here!” she yelled out.

  Geoff Tevis looked like the kind of man Trenton had tried to avoid most of his life. The stocky man had the facial set of a bully who would take great pleasure in tormenting his victims. He appeared well muscled but agile, as was noted when a carriage went streaking down the street, nearly running him over. He easily dodged the conveyance, hurling a stream of insults, then crossed to join his sister.

  He eyed Trenton suspiciously. “Who are you?” he asked without waiting for an introduction.

  “Geoff, this is Trenton Chadwick. He’s the man who saved my life a couple years back.”

  Tevis’s expression softened. “So you’re the man. I owe you a big thanks. I appreciate what you did for my sister.”

  Trenton relaxed a bit. “No thanks are necessary. I would help any lady in distress.”

  “Most wouldn’t have seen my sister as a lady,” Geoff replied. “Most still don’t.”

  Trenton didn’t know what to say, so he offered the first thing that came to mind. “I wish I could have given those men as good as they gave me. I’ve always wondered what happened to them.”

  Geoff twisted his face into an almost grotesque demonic smile.

  “That’s easy to tell,” he replied. “I killed them.”

  Trenton had been so dumbfounded by Geoff’s casual statement that it wasn’t until later, when he was seated across from the man in Annabelle’s meager home, that the reality of his situation began to sink in.

  Annabelle told proudly of how her brother had hunted and gunned down each of the men responsible for the attack. She felt it was the least they could do for Trenton’s troubles, and it was only fair punishment for what they had intended to do to her.

  Trenton could scarcely believe his ears.

  “Don’t look so surprised,” Annabelle laughed as she poured Trenton a glass of whiskey. “Geoff ’s a gun for hire. He makes a good living that way.”

  Trenton tossed back the contents of the glass without giving it a second thought. He wasn’t much of a drinker, but at times like this he felt the whiskey helped to boost his courage.

  Geoff studied him for a response. Trenton met his eyes and found them cold, lifeless. The man appeared to have no regret for his actions.

  “I’ve never known a gunfighter. Not personally,” Trenton finally managed.

  Geoff laughed at this and Annabelle giggled. “I s’pose most folks wouldn’t have a daily encounter with my kind. Annabelle tells me you’re a gambler.”

  Trenton nodded and offered a smile. “Seems safer than what you do.”

  Geoff roared at this, but the laughter was cut short when the sound of glass shattering sent them all to the floor. Trenton noticed the rock first. It was about the size of his fist and a note had been tied to it with a bit of twine.

  He picked it up and considered it a moment as Geoff rushed to the window. “They’re gone—whoever they were.” He made his way to where Trenton stood. “Gimme that,” he demanded. He tore off the twine and looked the note over. “Those lousy, no-account …” He stopped as he realized Trenton was watching him. “I’ll be back, Annabelle.” He tossed the note aside and stalked out the door, muttering.

  Trenton picked up the note as Annabelle began sweeping up the glass. “That’s the second time this has happened, and I’ve only got the one window. Glass ain’t cheap. Don’t know why they can’t just throw the rock at the door.”

  Trenton read, Get out of town by midnight or this will be your last Independence Day celebration.

  “Some folks just don’t know how to deal nice with other folks.”

  “Maybe Geoff killed someone they cared about and they’re after revenge,” Trenton offered.

  Annabelle shrugged. “They ought to know better. Geoff will kill ’em now for sure.”

  Trenton felt weak in
the knees at her lack of concern for the lives of those her brother deemed unnecessary. “Maybe he’ll calm down and rethink things.”

  Annabelle reached out to take hold of his hand. “It’s when Geoff calms down and rethinks that he takes action. He don’t like folks messing around here. He feels like they blame me for his actions and in truth, some do. It gets pretty lonely.” She rubbed his hand gently.

  Trenton didn’t care for the way Annabelle was cozying up to him. She seemed to imply a relationship between them that wasn’t now nor ever had been in existence. “Ah … here …” he said, pulling away. “Let me help clean up that glass.” Trenton went to where Annabelle had swept the shards into a neat little pile.

  “Don’t bother with that,” Annabelle said softly. “Geoff won’t be back for some time. Don’t you think it would be nice if you and I was to just have some time to ourselves?”

  Trenton felt his breath catch in his throat. The last thing he wanted to do was offend the sister of a gun for hire. He tried to steady his nerves, glancing wistfully at his empty glass.

  “Maybe we could talk over another drink,” he suggested.

  She smiled. “I can manage that just fine, Trenton. Now, why don’t you sit yourself right down while I get the whiskey.”

  Trenton felt much like a fly being coaxed into a spider’s web. He took his seat, his mind spinning in a hundred different directions. His ability to bluff his way through the game completely failed him. Of course, he’d never played this game before. Apparently the rules were quite different.

  CHAPTER 31

  DIANNE LOVED LATE OCTOBER IN MONTANA—ESPECIALLY THIS day. The skies were cloudless and painted in the palest shade of blue. The air held the taste of snow—the promise of winter—yet the valley was splashed with the colors of autumn. It exhilarated and excited Dianne.

  Unwilling to pass up the chance to enjoy the day, Dianne had ridden Dolly to the place where she’d first gazed down upon the Vandyke ranch. The valley spread out below, while the Madison Range jutted above. The mountains had been dusted with snow only the night before, and it wouldn’t be long until snow fell in earnest and covered the land.