by Karin, Anya
We walked in silence for a bit, past the camp’s single launderer, a couple of buildings that looked to have stood empty for some time, and a greengrocer’s stand. Before I knew it, we’d made almost a complete circuit of the town with no sight at all of Eli.
“It’s a strange place, Deadwood. I never seen its equal.”
“You were a lawman before, weren’t you, Mr. Bullock? In Montana, I believe?”
“For a fact. And call me Seth. I don’t know why I’ve let that go for so long.”
“Thank you, by all means, call me Clara.”
“Montana was my home for quite a time. Wait a second,” he paused, staring across the street. “Don’t tell me that’s who I think it is.”
I squinted against the slightly lowered sun, and my stomach leapt into my throat.
My hands trembled, though I did my best to try and pretend that wasn’t the case. “Is that Eli?”
Seth left me standing dumbly in the middle of the street. “Sorry, Clara, please wait for me back there. Eli and I have some business to attend,” he said with a vague wave toward the Gem. I stumbled to one of the saloon’s horse ties and settled against it. Behind me stood that monolith of sin, and in front, Eli and Seth drew near one another and exchanged some loud words.
“You’re what? Arresting me for what?” Eli shouted. “What’ve I done? You know me better than to think I set up some raid on the camp, Seth!”
“Put your hands down, Eli. I know that I am duty-bound to investigate whatever I’m told, and right now, I’m investigating a claim implicating you in the Sioux raid on Deadwood three weeks past. You know I can’t just ignore it.”
Eli was more flustered than I’d ever seen him, even when he made his awkward admission of feeling. It wasn’t just frustration I saw on his face though, it was hurt. He had the look of a man who had been stabbed in the back.
“What are you saying, Seth?” Eli wrung his hands. “How can you believe him over me?”
“Now, Eli,” Mr. Bullock moved nearer to Eli and put his hand on his shoulder, speaking too quietly to hear.
“Where’s that book of yours? This’d be something to write down.” It was a woman’s voice that broke my trance.
Surprised, I turned on my heel. “What’s that? I’m sorry?” I stared blankly at the woman for a second. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’ve forgotten your name. I’m awful at that sort of thing.”
“Tammy,” she said. “You never knew it. I was mopping when you and your pa were in to get that place from Mr. Swearengen.”
“Yes, of course,” I said. I exhaled from somewhere deep. Eli and Seth were still talking quietly. “This is unnerving me, I’m afraid. I’ve not found myself in the middle of much excitement before, Miss Tammy.”
“Just Tammy,” she said. “No miss business when you’re talking to a whore. We don’t need that sort of formality around here.” She exhibited a warm smile and surprisingly straight teeth. Tammy had a warm look to her face that drew me in immediately. I admit that her brazenness in wearing nothing but bloomers and a long shirt in the street scandalized me somewhat, but I liked the honesty in her voice. “Anyway, this has been coming for a while. I’m guessing from the way you’re glaring at them two that you know the story? Eustace’n all that?”
“I do, but Eli gave me only the briefest of explanations. She said something about the Comstock Lode and Mr. Rawls trying to make off with in some kind of caper.”
“A ‘caper’, she says.” The other woman I’d encountered before at the Gem emerged from the swinging doors. She had her grey hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, and wore a harshly starched apron over her high-necked dress. “Sugar, Eustace Rawls doesn’t have enough of a brain in that thick skull of his to hatch a caper. I’m Gretchen if you don’t recall. I think Al said my name around you. Since you’re a low enough sort of creature to speak with Tammy, I assume you’re the sort I like.” The elder woman leaned near a kerosene lamp and lit her cigarette. She pursed her lips, taking a lungful of fragrant smoke and blowing it out in a thick cloud.
“Oh I don’t know about all that,” I looked down, smoothed my skirts. “I don’t find Miss,” I caught myself. “I don’t find Tammy to be base at all.”
“Base, she says. Oh we’ve got a charmer here.” She exhaled another sweet smelling plume of smoke, then laughed, then coughed. “I like you. Most women who come through this camp are either on the back of some carriage destined for Oregon, as ugly as I am, or meant for Mr. Swearengen’s American harem as he likes to call it. He says that’s good advertisement. Gives an air of the exotic East.”
“I see, well, I’m flattered, Miss Gretchen, thank you.” I said, not quite sure what to do, though very certain I enjoyed the company.
“’Course, being as ugly as myself and joining Al’s establishment, them things aren’t mutually exclusive you understand.”
I looked down again, laughing softly. “Yes ma’am, indeed.”
“Seth, I can’t believe this!” Eli took to shouting again. “You’re taking the word of that criminal! Over mine! We’re friends, Seth! Why are you doing this?” By the time he began to rave at Mr. Bullock, the few patrons who were drunk in the early afternoon shuffled out of the Gem to catch a glimpse of the action. Joining them were the two barbers who kept a shop opposite Bullock & Star hardware, four people from the inn and the inn keeper himself.
In all, almost fifty people stood in a circle in the middle of the dusty road watching my Eli fall apart before their eyes. Eustace Rawls, I noted, was not among them. A shuffling sound overhead caught my attention.
“You hate to see this sort of thing. Especially to someone so plainly and obviously uncrooked as Eli Masterson.” The voice drifted down, between the planks above my head.
“Mr. Swearengen?” I looked up.
“None other. But don’t avert your eyes. Watch the occurrence there in the street between your lover and the sheriff. This is, I think, an act of desperation on the one hand, and of utter defeat on the other.”
“Lover?” I said with a gasp, feigning shock. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I-”
“Do you make a habit of sitting across the lap of someone while ahorse who you are not lover to?”
“No,” I said, flustered. “I don’t believe so. That was to be kept secret.”
“Don’t worry. The goings on across the way is distracting any ears from what I’m saying. There’s no reason to embarrass either of you.” He fell silent for a time, pacing back and forth on his balcony. Whenever I looked up at him, his eyes were fixed on Seth and Eli.
Gretchen got close enough that I could smell the remainder of the cigarette she held in her slightly bent fingers.
Just about that time, Sheriff Bullock turned Eli around. “Now, Eli,” he said loudly enough to hear, “I’m doing this because I have to. Someone reported you had something to do with the Sioux raid, and so the law of this territory says I have to investigate. No choice in the matter.”
Eli struggled a bit as Seth put the shackles on his wrists. Without even thinking about it, my hand went to my chest and I took a deep breath, letting it out in a long shudder. “I don’t know what to say,” I whispered.
“Don’t say nothin’,” Gretchen said softly. “Just watch. It’s what he’s doin’.” She tilted her head upwards to indicate Mr. Swearengen. “If he wanted he could put a stop to the whole thing, but he ain’t. He’s just watching. This’d be a good time to find your little book and start taking notes. Who is here, who ain’t here, that kind of thing. Just someone being around can tell you a whole lot about a situation.”
I stared at her face. It was welcome respite from watching my Eli being hauled off by his friend through a hostile crowd. Some spat at him, some shouted horrible things, and someone even tried to haul off and punch him, though Sheriff Bullock answered that with a swift unholstering of his six-shooter. Shortly, Mr. Swearengen’s feet slid across his balcony toward the door and he took a deep breath.
; “Tammy, come up here. I’ve got an errand for you to run,” he said.
“Yes sir,” Tammy gathered her bloomers about her ankles and hopped into action. “Remember what Miss Gretchen said, young’un. You’re not like to get better advice much of anywhere. She’s been around enough to know what she’s sayin’.”
“Tammy!”
“Yes sir!” She retreated, swinging the door closed.
“Clara!” It was Eli, shouting in a ragged voice as Sheriff Bullock dragged him down the road. When I looked in his direction, he shook Seth off. The sheriff didn’t try to stop him, and Eli didn’t try to run. He stared at me, like he was trying to remember the details of my face. “Remember what I said,” he shouted. “It never lies. Not ever.”
“Come on, Eli,” Mr. Bullock said, as he put his hand on Eli’s shoulder and led him away.
My lips trembled so badly I couldn’t answer when Gretchen spoke to me next, and my hands shook too much to hold my handkerchief to my eyes. Tears rolled down my cheeks and all I wanted was to sit. To sit with Eli, wherever he was, even in the jail, that’s what I wanted. To tell him everything was going to be okay, that it would work out somehow.
“These things,” Gretchen said in her relaxed drawl, “have a way of working out. Write in your little book. Write down what I told you to. I learnt from the best.”
I squeezed my mouth closed, intent to stop my blubbering. Gretchen patted my shoulder and turned to leave. I caught her elbow. “Who? Learned from whom? About what?”
“She even says whom at the right times. You’re a card, Clara. I learnt about how things work. I learnt from the best. How to watch, how to see what’s going on behind the lines that try to obscure things.”
“Yes, but who taught you all this,” I asked. “And why are you telling me?”
“Well, little girl, I’m telling you because I like you. I see a whole lot of me behind those eyes. Thirty years, and a whole lot of men ago, sure,” he paused to laugh, then catch her breath. “But I see me in you. As to who I learnt from, well you was standing underneath him not a minute ago. Go on and get you some rest, girl. You’ll figure it out.”
Moments later, I was alone. Alone. The word rolled around in my mind like a jagged chunk of ore. Alone in Deadwood. All alone. I looked to Star & Bullock, hoping maybe Mr. Star was in to escort me home, but then I remembered his going off with Father after we ate.
The road back home was only a short one to walk, but a short road never felt so long in all my life.
Nine
September 23, 1878
Dakota Hills, Deadwood Territory
The sun came up hours before, but the world just seemed faded, a little gray, even with light was streaming through the window.
“Clara, darling? You feeling all right?”
Oh, sweet father, how can I possibly explain this? I know you and mother had your times of sadness, your ups and downs, but did you ever have to see her get dragged to jail? Have a screaming match with someone in the middle of the street?
“Clara? You’ve been awfully quiet this morning, just checking on you.” He knocked again.
Rolling over, I stared at the doorknob for a moment. “I’m fine,” I said weakly. “Sorry for not getting your coffee ready.”
“Oh come on, don’t worry about something like that. I can make my own coffee and warm my own biscuits. Want to go to the claim with me today? I know you’ve got a lot of things tumbling around in that head of yours, but maybe some old-fashioned labor would help work them out?”
I groaned, a little louder than I meant to as I sat up on the edge of the bed.
“Or can I at least come in and talk with you? I hate to see my only daughter poorly like this.”
“Come in Father, though I’m not entirely decent.”
He pushed open the door. “I changed your diapers, Clara, seeing you in a nightgown isn’t something that worries me.” His voice was soft with concern. Father’s hand on my cheek felt good. Calming and soothing.
As soon as he sat, I reclined sideways and let my head thump against his shoulder.
“It’s just some confusion. I spoke with Mr. Bullock last night when I came back to town and he told me all that happened. He also said – and this is what you mightn’t know – that Eli was being held more for his own safety than anything else?”
“Oh? And how is that, father? How is an innocent man being held in jail for his own good? That seems to run counter to everything I know about justice.” My voice was sharper than intended, but from the way he looked at me, I knew father understood.
“The nature of the allegation is,” he paused and swallowed, “well, it’s serious Clara, but you knew that. It’s also a load of cow-flop, which is what the colorful Mr. Bullock called the charge. But he’s also a territorial sheriff, and has to answer the law, so you shouldn’t be cross with him. He remained silent for a moment with his palm warming my shoulder. “But, as far as Eli’s safety goes. The people of this camp are quite hostile to the Sioux, though the Sioux have only raided intermittently, and only when they had a good reason. Seth told me this last raid occurred after a Sioux woman was killed.”
“That’s terrible, I can’t –”
“There’s more. The man he described as leading it was none other than Itan, if you’ll remember him.”
Suddenly, it all made sense. Not only had Mr. Rawls made up a story to get his revenge, he didn’t have to stretch very far for credibility. “That is most convenient for a story, indeed,” I said. “But something else is bothering me, aside from his arrest. I was quite shocked by the way Eli reacted. With the shouting, and trying to fight off Seth, Eli made quite a show of himself. I didn’t think him to be that sort of man.”
“I don’t know about all that. From the way it was explained to me, the whole thing was a shock to Eli. He of course didn’t expect to be arrested, but he also felt that the sheriff, who he’s been friendly with for some time, betrayed his friendship.”
“I suppose I can understand.” I wanted to say that he did expect to be arrested, or to run from town pending such, but my mouth seemed better shut. Mr. Swearengen’s lesson in silence began to sink in as soon as Gretchen taught it.
Father nodded. “But it’s not all bad. The Sheriff told me that tempers in this camp, as you might have noticed, are quick to flare and then equally quick to recede. He expects that not a week will pass before some other dramatic tragedy – a duel in the street, a drunken melee out front of the Gem, an outbreak of the pox – will become the new excitement.”
I gasped. “Pox? Father, don’t speak like that. Pox isn’t some sort of news story. If that broke out here, we’d be –”
My father waved his hand. “I was just listing things that could take the camp’s imagination. Pox won’t break out. More likely some new brothel owner will stroll into town, or some new mining crew will find a grand claim or a lode. George Hearst is planning to move in as soon as his secretive prospectors find something worth his time, after all.”
Nodding, I watched Father stand from the bed and fish a briar pipe from one of his many pockets, and fill it with shredded tobacco. “Since when do you smoke?”
“Mr. Bullock offered me a pipe last night. It’s more pleasant than I’d realized. I’m still not quite accomplished with the act of maintaining it, however.” He struck a match and blew through the stem, putting it out instead of lighting his bowl. “See?”
“I believe you’re supposed to suck inwards,” I giggled softly, and knew why he’d done it. “Thank you. I needed a bit of relief. And yes, let’s go to the claim. Getting a bit dirty and wet seems like it would be just the thing to take my mind off this awful business.”
My nearest wardrobe was still open from last night. No sooner had I collected a pile of clothes I thought suitable for labor when Father stopped me with a pair of waders folded over his arm.
“You’ll need these if you expect to get in the river.” Apparently sensing my apprehension, he laughed. “Don’t worr
y about your propriety in the face of all these wild miners. They’re special made to contain skirts. Mr. Star said there are a number of women who work claims, and this is what they use. Now get dressed, I’ll wait down stairs.”
As the door closed behind him, I couldn’t help but smile despite recent events. A trip to the claim promised fresh air and exercise. Besides, if what father said was true, Eli wasn’t long for jail. He’d be keeping that promise he made before long.
After dressing and tying up all my strings, I made sure to collect my journal before heading out. Seemed better to be with it than without, as I never quite knew when it might come in handy.
*
“If this were New York, this water would be warm! It’s freezing!” I bent down, scooped up my pan of ice-cold creek water, sediment and – hopefully – gold dust and shook it. Slowly, back and forth, letting all the little specks fall through the screen just like father showed me. The gentle tug of current swirling around my rubber-clad ankles was gentle, but just strong enough that I had to concentrate to keep my footing, especially since all I had for a surface were ancient, smooth-as-glass river stones.
“If this were New York, the sky would be gray and we couldn’t go outside during the afternoon when the factories started belching soot.” Father said, emerging from the trees nearby with a pipe, lit this time, bobbling in his mouth. He had a grin on his face that spoke volumes.
My thoughts turned to Eli for the first time since morning, and I thought perhaps I could get used to the simplicity of such a life.
Especially if I had my Eli, I thought. A life on the range, in the hills, on the road between towns was nothing like I’d been brought up to expect, but in a way, it is what I always wanted, though I might not have known it, exactly.
“Do you miss home?” I asked, out of nowhere. I hadn’t so much as considered New York in quite some time. Feeling the need to expand, I quickly added, “our big apartments, and the bustle of the bank and so on.”