Beneath a Dakota Cross (27 page)

Brazos waved his hands over the table. “Whoa, Louise, we're eatin' supper here.”

This time the men blushed.

And the ladies snickered.

Brazos took a sip of coffee, harpooned a chop, then drowned it in white gravy. “You two gals didn't see Todd out there, did you?”

Jamie Sue wiped her mouth. “Oh . . . I forgot . . . I kind of committed him for the evening.”

“Oh?” Brazos leaned forward to keep the forkful of meat and gravy from dripping on his shirt.

Dacee June's buttered corn dribbled down her chin. “Daddy, guess who came in on the stagecoach?” she interrupted.

“Someone selling napkins, I hope.”

Dacee June wiped her mouth, then sat up straight. “No, it was James Butler Hickok!”

Yapper Jim whipped his head around, his silver fork clanging into the plate. “Wild Bill's here in Deadwood?”

Dacee June brushed her hair back out of her eyes, smearing a little butter on her forehead. “I saw him with my own eyes. His hair is long, his mustache is very neat, and he was the cleanest man on the stage. Jamie Sue said so. He is quite handsome. How old do you think he is?”

“Very old,” Brazos insisted.

“Well, he seemed very polite,” Jamie Sue added as she carefully sawed away on a thick piece of beef chop.

Louise Driver held a forkful of breaded okra and waved it over her plate. “I read that he got married this spring.” She glanced over at Grass Edwards. “He married a widow lady eleven years older than him. Can you imagine?”

Grass swallowed hard and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

“I can imagine it,” Thelma concurred. “Some men need a sensible and mature companion.”

“I understand she's an acrobat in the circus,” Jamie Sue offered.

“That sounds sensible and mature to me,” Yapper Jim chuckled.

Louise Driver passed Grass a small glass bowl. “I brought over some of your favorite wild cherry preserves, Mr. Edwards.”

Grass refused to look up at Brazos or the Jims. “Did Hickok's wife come with him?” he asked.

Jamie Sue wiped her mouth again before she spoke. “No, he was traveling alone.”

Brazos picked a sliver of meat out from between his front teeth with his fingernail, then took another sip of coffee. “What does all of this have to do with Todd missin' supper? He didn't go play poker with Wild Bill Hickok, did he?”

“Oh, no. Actually, Daddy Brazos, there was also a man named Jacobson on the stage. He's a banker from Chicago who's thinking about opening a bank here in town.”

“A Chicago banker? In Deadwood? Now, that is good news!” Grass Edwards tried to brush a spot of wild cherry preserves off his white shirt. “If we get eastern money investing in the gulch, we might have ourselves a fine town yet.”

Yapper Jim reached clear across the table and forked a giant dill pickle. “I hope you told him which is the finest hotel in town.”

Jamie Sue spread her napkin back across her lap. “Yes, I did. He wanted to have supper with someone who could tell him all about the economy of Deadwood. And who knows more about that than Todd? Every one of you has told me he's got the best business sense of any man in town.”

“That's for sure. There are some days I reckon he doesn't have much competition,” Quiet Jim piped up, his clean-shaven, thin face hidden mostly by a large coffee cup.

Brazos stretched his long legs under the table until they struck the barrel that held the tabletop. “I appreciate Todd's tending to civic responsibilities, but a family meal is extremely important. He should be here. No business matter is that critical.”

Jamie Sue pushed her fork into a heap of black-eyed peas. “I don't think he's skipping supper solely because of business,” she murmured.

“Oh?” Thelma Speaker punctuated her response with raised eyebrows. “What's her name?”

“Why do women always assume it's some lady that distracts us men?” Yapper challenged.

“What's her name?” Thelma repeated.

“Mr. Jacobson brought along his daughter, Rebekah.” Jamie Sue abandoned the black-eyes and ate a small bite of ham. “I believe she just graduated from a women's college in the East.”

“You don't say?” Grass Edwards wiped his chin on the linen napkin. “Perhaps I should go welcome the . . .”

The sharp elbow of Louise Driver silenced Mr. Lawrence Edwards.

“I suppose Mr. Jacobson will be wanting to buy a home soon. So his wife can move out . . . ?” Thelma queried.

Jamie Sue nodded and resumed eating.

“He is married, then?” Thelma pressed.

Louise cleared her throat. “Don't be too obvious, dear.”

Jamie Sue grinned. “I believe he did say he was a widower.”

“Oh . . .” Thelma sat straight up. “That poor man. We'll just have to bake him a pie and steep some tea and welcome them to Deadwood. I'll need to tell them all about our lending library in the parlor.”

Brazos spooned gravy over his okra. “Jamie Sue, did you see any signs of trouble coming in on the stage?”

“We didn't see a single Indian,” Jamie Sue reported. “Of course, having a military escort helped. But it was as if every Sioux was busy somewhere else. It was ominous coming into town and seeing Main Street barricaded and guards posted. I'm glad Dacee June wrote to me and warned me what to expect.”

Yapper Jim smothered his okra high with wild cherry preserves. “We know where a couple hundred Sioux warriors are.”

Thelma put a spoonful of okra on her biscuit, then chomped down. “I heard just this afternoon that the Sioux retreated out of Spearfish Canyon,” she mumbled.

Brazos pushed himself back from the table, then stood. “It's startin' to seem strange. It's as if ever' Sioux on the plains has somewhere else to go.”

“I hope it's up in the British Possessions,” Yapper added.

“If that's the case, we have a cliff to climb.” Brazos strolled towards the back wall and turned up one of the kerosene lamps.

“You still figure on sendin' those coins to Juan and Tiny's kin in Cheyenne City?” Yapper Jim quizzed.

Brazos finished off one lamp, then stepped to the other. “Providin' the money's still there and we can find it. We'll let their families strike a deal with the Central Pacific or do whatever they want.”

“Seems like the right thing,” Quiet Jim added.

“What's the word from our soldier boy?” Yapper Jim quizzed between bites of cheese-drenched scalloped potatoes.

Jamie Sue's eyes lit up. “Robert said the word came down from General Terry that the summer campaign would certainly take no longer than August.”

“That's not quite as optimistic as Custer,” Grass cautioned.

“Either way,” Jamie Sue bubbled, “my Bobby will be home by the end of summer.”

Brazos gazed at the entire group at the table.
Her Bobby? Nobody's called him that since you, Mamma. But, she's right, Sarah Ruth. He's her Bobby now.

“What will you do after that?” Louise asked, picking at her food. The bite of potato on her fork was no larger than a dime.

“Robert expects to be transferred once the Sioux situation is taken care of,” Jamie Sue explained. “If General Crook is sent back to Arizona, as is rumored, Robert is going to try to get transferred there.”

“Arizona? Why on earth would he take you to such a God-forsaken, dangerous, and primitive land as that?” Brazos moaned.

“Are you implying that Deadwood is a safe bastion of culture and progress?” Quiet Jim challenged.

“We do have a lending library, and I'm considering forming an orchestra,” Thelma Speaker asserted. “It will be a challenge, naturally, but, heaven knows, it is worth the effort.”

“What I'm suggesting,” Brazos's face relaxed into a smile, “is that I don't want Jamie Sue and Robert to be that far from us.”

“Don't worry, Daddy Brazos. Robert's already talking about living in the Black Hills someday.”

“He is?”

“Provided you don't up and move somewhere else in the meantime. Your boys will follow you to the ends of the earth, Daddy Brazos. You know that.”

“All the boys, but one,” Brazos sighed.

Jamie Sue dropped her head and stared at her plate. “I'm not supposed to tell you this, but Robert and I got a letter from Samuel.”

“You what?” Brazos jerked off his spectacles and waved them in front of him. “Why aren't you supposed to tell me?” he fumed.

“Samuel said it just would stir you up.”

“That's preposterous,” he growled. “What does he mean saying something like that?” Brazos's voice was almost a shout. “He doesn't bother contacting his father since his mamma died, and then out of the blue sends a letter to you and Robert?”

“Daddy, just calm down,” Dacee June cautioned. “You turn all red when you get upset. And you'll have heart pains.”

“I most certainly will not,” he barked, rubbing his chest with his right hand. He could feel his neck and face flush. “OK, perhaps I turn a little red.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “What did Samuel say?”

“Somehow he heard about us getting married, so he sent his congratulations. He said he was doin' fine, and if some big deal went through he was going back to Texas to buy a ranch.”

“That's all he said?” Brazos quizzed. “He didn't ask about li'l sis . . . or me?”

Jamie Sue paused. “No.”

“After three years of silence, that's not much.”

“I think it's wonderful,” Dacee June said. “It means Samuel's alive and thinking about family. That's good, Daddy.”

“I believe that's a very mature attitude,” Thelma commended.

Dacee June's eyes widened. “It is?”

Brazos glanced at his daughter.
She's right, Sarah Ruth. It was certainly more mature than ‘Daddy Brazos.' Sammy's alive and well. Thank you, Jesus!

“Robert said when the children are old enough for school we will need to settle down,” Jamie Sue said.

Dacee June nearly exploded. “I knew it! You are going to have a baby!”

“Well, of course we'll have children someday.”

“I hope they are all girls.”

“Why on earth do you hope that?” Thelma asked.

“Boys can be such a bother,” Dacee June sighed. “Take Carty Toluca, for instance.”

“Oh?” Jamie Sue questioned.

“He kept trying for days to get me to go out into that old shed behind his house. Said he had something very unusual to show me.”

“He did?” Brazos probed. “And just what did you say to such a proposition?”

Dacee June's eyes grew wide. “A proposition? It was hardly a proposition. He didn't even try to kiss me.”

Brazos felt acid boil up in his chest and began to rub it again. “You went with him?”

“Yes, I told him I'd go if he promised not to talk to me for a week.”

“You make tough demands,” Louise said. “Just what did the young man want to show you, or should we ask?”

“A lousy chicken who lays blue eggs. That's the way boys are. It was dumb. Why make such a big deal over blue eggs? Robins do it all the time.” Dacee June wrinkled her nose. “That's the last time I'm going out to a shed with a boy.”

“It certainly is,” Brazos agreed.

Dacee June glanced over at Jamie Sue. “You're going to just have girls, aren't you?”

Jamie Sue cleared her throat. “I don't think I can . . .”

“Let me explain it to you, dear,” Louise began. “First, at just the right time of the month . . .”

“No . . . no!” Yapper Jim protested. “Explain it to her some other time.”

“Men sure do fluster easy.” Dacee June ran her fork around the outside of an untouched mound of black-eyed peas.

Brazos had slept about two hours when he rose out of bed and began to pace the floor, barefoot. Finally, he turned on a lamp, tugged on his jeans, hunted for his spectacles, then plopped down in a dusty, green stuffed chair next to the window.

Not until his toes began to get cold did he look up from his Bible reading and stare across the shadows of his second-story bedroom.

Lord, I've been runnin' so long I've forgotten how to sit still. I like the journey, but I'm afraid of the destination. That's why I keep sayin' that you're leadin' me on. I want to keep on the move. I thrive on immediate challenges.

How can I settle down here?

If this town turns routine, we'll push on to something more excitin'. I'll just pack up Dacee June . . . and . . . and Robert and Jamie Sue . . . and Todd and . . .

If Robert and Jamie Sue move to Arizona, maybe we'll all head that direction. Perhaps California, Lord. Is that where you want me?

Beneath the cross . . . beneath some cross.

I've got to go where you want me, Lord.

That's not here.

Not in Deadwood.

No ranch. No farm. No acreage.

This can't be the place.

There's no Sarah Ruth to make it home.

But then, there's no Sarah Ruth anywhere. Is that what I'm lookin' for?

Brazos paced the floor in front of the darkened window.

Maybe every place is the same. Maybe there is no Dakota cross. Or any other kind of cross.

Maybe that's why I can't seem to settle down and sleep at night. I'm lookin' for something that will never come back.

He snatched up his Bible and continued to pace. He stopped near the table and held the open book to the lantern. “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.” He plopped the book down on the unmade bed and resumed his pace.

That's what I'm ready for. Your expected end.