Larkspur (9 page)

“If you feel that’s what you must do, my dear.”

Kristin stood. “I’d like to stay a few days after we get things settled. Do you know of a rooming house suitable for ladies?”

“As a matter of fact I do.” Forsythe placed the money back in the drawer. “A friend of mine, Mrs. Bartlett, has rooms to let. I saw the sign this morning. She’s on the first street west of here. Big house with gables and beautiful stained-glass windows. But, my dear Miss Anderson, you’ll be able to afford the hotel—”

“No, sir. I’m going back to River Falls with my inheritance intact. You don’t know how much satisfaction it will give me to wave it under my brother’s nose.” Kristin reached for the will to pull it from Lee’s hand. He held on to it and put it back in an envelope along with another paper. “I just want to look at it, and look at it.”

“Mr. Lee will have it when you’re ready to sign.” The colonel chuckled, moved close to her and instead of clasping her elbow to escort her to the door, his fingers surrounded her lower arm.

“Your hotel bill has been paid by Mr. Lee. Tell the clerk to see that your trunk is delivered to Mrs. Bartlett. We’ll see you in the morning.”

“You sure will, sir.” Kristin offered her hand and he clasped it warmly.

As she went down the steps, the smile she had been holding slid off her face. The shysters! The bald-faced liars! She had been around Ferd’s business friends enough to recognize a couple of connivers when she met them. Of course, she might not have caught on so fast had she not been warned by Bonnie, Bernie and Cletus.

The
charming
colonel thought he would get her under the watchful eye of his friend, Mrs. Bartlett! He really was a slick operator, but was he as dangerous as her new friends believed him to be?

Kristin turned into the mercantile, approached the man at the counter and asked for directions to Mrs. Gaffney’s rooming house.

*  *  *

In the upstairs office Colonel Forsythe turned back into the room after seeing Kristin to the door.

“We’ve landed our pigeon. Not many women can resist that impressive stack of bills.” He chuckled. “They were mostly fives with a few twenties on top.”

“She wanted the will.”

“Well, she didn’t get it. She’ll be back in the morning. We didn’t even have to show her the map . . . or tell her about the Indians.”

“It seemed to me that she folded awfully easy.”

Forsythe slapped Mark Lee on the back and offered him a cigar.

“Trust me, my friend. You underestimate my power over women. Especially the love-starved ones. Even though she’s young enough to be my daughter, I’ll bet you a five-spot I’ll be in her bed before she leaves town.”

Chapter Six

M
rs. Gaffney was short and plump with a twinkle in her eyes and a twist of thick gray hair fastened to the top of her head.

She was also very hard of hearing.

When the drayman brought Kristin’s trunk and box to the back porch, she told him to put them in the hall. When he offered to carry them upstairs, she walked away as if she had not heard him. Rather than run after her and repeat, he had driven away.

Kristin liked Widow Gaffney immediately. Her home, on the edge of town, with a large meadow behind, was immaculate and her attitude about her disability amazing. At times she treated it as if it were an advantage. Kristin soon discovered that if she spoke with her lips close to the woman’s ear, they could converse in normal tones.

Mrs. Gaffney had two roomers. Both men worked on the railroad and used the rooms only three days a week. At the present time they were away.

After supper Mrs. Gaffney put on her hat and shawl and announced to Kristin that she was going to Bible study at the church and that Kristin could sit on the porch or in the parlor while she was away.

“You’ll be all right here,” Mrs. Gaffney said in a heavy Irish brogue when she saw unease on Kristin’s face. “I best go alone.”

“You’ve helped others before?”

“One time.” Her eyes hardened and her lips snapped shut. “I get even for what they done to Isaac.”

“Your husband?”

“My friend. They took his land. ’Twas only a little place, but ’twas his. He loved it.” She shook her head sorrowfully. “It broke his heart to pieces.”

Kristin sat on the porch. She wondered what Gustaf would think of all that had occurred. If there was a way to send him a message without putting her new friends in further danger, she would. He had said he would come to Big Timber when Lars was better. Still she was afraid for Gustaf if he should come here and find out what Mark Lee and his cohorts were doing. They might hesitate to harm her; but if they were as dangerous as Bernie said, they’d not hesitate to kill him.

When it grew dark and Mrs. Gaffney hadn’t returned, Kristin began to worry. Finally she went into the parlor and lit the lamp. A half hour passed slowly before she heard steps on the porch and the door opening. Kristin waited patiently while Mrs. Gaffney removed her hat and shawl. When she picked up the Bible and sat down on the settee, Kristin sat down beside her.

“I think a man is watching through the window,” she said, as if she were reading a passage aloud. “Bonnie come to church to say that Bernie be here at two-thirty in the morning to take you to the freight camp.” Her lips scarcely moved as she spoke. Kristin was surprised that a woman so hard of hearing could speak so softly.

Words on the page suddenly jumped out at Kristin. She moved her finger from line to line to point out words:

YE . . . be . . . in . . . trouble.

Mrs. Gaffney shook her head. “I hear nothing. I’m deaf, you know.” She closed the Bible and bowed her head as if in prayer. “I think he be gone now. Stupid man.”

*  *  *

They were sitting just inside the kitchen door when Kristin heard a faint sound outside. As she went out onto the porch, a topless buggy came silently around the side of the house and stopped. Bernie hopped down, spun around on his peg and hurried to the porch.

“Bernie, I’m afraid for you and Bonnie,” Kristin whispered. “I wish you were coming with me.”

“We ain’t goin’ to he able to stay here much longer. That hired gun of Forsythe’s is got his eye on my sister. I’m no match for him face-to-face. But if he don’t back off, I’ll shoot him in the back and they’ll hang me.” He hoisted Kristin’s trunk to his shoulder.

After her belongings were stashed on the boot of the buggy, Kristin put her arms around Mrs. Gaffney and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you, thank you,” she said with her lips against her ear.

“Good-bye, darlin’. Tell Buck that Rose Gaffney’s goin’ to whip his hind end fer not slippin’ in to see her.”

Kristin looked at her in astonishment. “You didn’t tell me you knew . . . him.”

“Ya didn’t ask, lovey. I’d not be lettin’ ya go out there if I didn’t think Buck could take care of ya. Get along with ya now. Bernie, I’ll turn on the windmill and let my stock tank run over till the tracks are washed out.”

Kristin climbed into the buggy and Bernie turned the horse toward the pasture behind the house. She was impressed with how careful he was and glad, now, that she had put on a dark dress and tied a three-cornered cloth, peasant style, over her silvery blond hair. The horse’s hooves were covered with gunnysacks and the well-greased buggy made hardly a sound.

Bernie didn’t speak until they were well away from the house.

“Cletus is an old-timer here. He was one of the best wheel-wrights in the Territory in his day. He knows a good many freighters. A train of three wagons came in this morning. They’ll be setting out at three o’clock. They go early and rest the stock in the middle of the day. It’s easier on the teams. You’ll ride on one of the freight wagons. They’ll drop you off at Larkspur and go on.”

“I told Colonel Forsythe I’d come back this morning and sign the papers. What’ll they do when they find I’ve gone?”

“They’ll be fit to be tied.”

“Will they hurt Mrs. Gaffney?”

“They don’t dare. She’s rather a favorite in town due to her care of the sick.”

“How about you and Bonnie?”

“Del Gomer won’t let anything happen to Bonnie that he don’t want to happen,” Bernie said bitterly.

“Del Gomer. He’s the one who watched her this morning.”

“He’s there for every meal if he’s in town. He came to the restaurant when we first opened. He was nice and mannerly. Bonnie liked him. They talked for an hour at a time. He met her a couple of times after church and walked her home. She was halfway in love with him when we found out what he is—a hired killer. He works for whoever pays the highest price. There’s been a half dozen random killings this past year that can be chalked up to Forsythe’s gunman.”

“If she left town, would he follow?”

“Depends on how tight he’s hooked up with Forsythe.”

After a silence, Kristin asked, “Is the house at Larkspur more than just a shack?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been out there.”

“Do you think they’ll follow and try to get me to sign the papers?”

“From what I hear, Lenning’s no slouch when it comes to protecting what’s his. He and Anderson had been together for a long time. Forsythe tried serving eviction papers and his men got a tail full of buckshot.”

“As long as I own the Larkspur, you and Bonnie are welcome. I would be glad for the company. Cletus said he hadn’t heard that old Mr. Lenning had married.”

“I ain’t heard that he’s all that . . . old.”

“Will you remember what I said? I’ve not known you and Bonnie even twenty-four hours, but that’s not important. Friendships are forged in an instant. Please don’t put yourself in danger by shooting that man. Remember that you have a place to come to.”

“I’ll remember.”

Dirty white canvas covered the loads that rose up over the six-foot-high sideboards of the freight wagons that were parked on a grassy knoll. The camp was astir. Three teams of mules were being hitched to each wagon.

“You’ll be all right with these men. Cletus knows them all and vouched for them,” Bernie said.

A heavily bearded man came to the buggy as soon as it stopped.

“This the passenger Cletus wants us to drop off at the Larkspur?”

“She’s the one.”

“Come on, miss. We’re ’bout to pull out.”

He helped Kristin out of the buggy and led her to the last high-wheeled wagon in the line. She turned to say good-bye to Bernie, but he had turned the buggy around and another man was unloading her trunk.

Looping the handle of her carrying bag over her shoulder, she climbed up the high wheel as if she had done it a hundred times before. It wasn’t until she turned to sit down that she had a moment of fright because the seat was so high off the ground. She wanted desperately to tell Bernie good-bye and to thank him, but it was impossible to peer around the load that loomed up behind her.

Kristin Anderson, what in the world are you doing here in the middle of the night with these strange men? Lordy! You’ll never live another day like this one.

The thought had no more than left her mind when the bearded man sprang up onto the seat beside her. He gathered the reins in his hand and then stood to sail a black-snake whip out over the backs of the mules. “Y’haw!” The mules strained, the big wheels moved and Kristin grabbed hold of the side of the seat.

The freighter asked surprisingly few questions.

“Where ya from, miss?”

“Wisconsin.”

“Is that back near Ohio? Knew a man oncet from Ohio.”

“No. It’s just across the Mississippi River from Minnesota.”

“Hummm— Ain’t never been there. Been to Dakoty.”

“I came through there on the train. The towns were miles and miles apart with a lot of flat land in between.”

“This is the best country I ever knowed. It’s got most a ever’thing a man would want. Rivers, lakes and mountains. Now take Crazy Mountains. They be the prettiest place ya ever did see. Ya can see ’em from the Larkspur.”

“How did they get the name
Crazy
Mountains?”

The freighter chuckled. “One story be that the Indians killed a crazy woman what lived alone after her man died. Another be that the locoweed that grows on the foothills drove the horses crazy. Be that the case it may be why the Larkspur is call Larkspur. Larkspur be almost as poison to stock as locoweed.”

“I didn’t realize Larkspur was a poisonous weed. It has such a pretty flower.”

“Yes’m. It’s a sight to see a patch in bloom. Folks keep their stock away from it. Indians use it to kill body lice and itch mites.”

It was almost daylight when the freighter told her they would be crossing the Yellowstone River.

“It ain’t nothin’ to get in a sweat over this time a year. River’s low and there be a good rocky bottom where we cross.”

Kristin looked at the wide river and refused to give in to the panic that swamped her. Determined to sit quietly and take what came, she gripped the side of the seat and kept her eyes on the wagon ahead.

It’ll be all right. They’ve crossed many times. Don’t look down. The mules aren’t afraid. They’re going right into the water. Oh, my goodness! Did the wheels slip? Landsakes! We’re in the middle of a river!

The driver was giving all of his attention to the team. Even when the water reached the mules’ bellies, they continued on in a steady gait. On reaching the bank on the other side, they dug in their hooves for purchase to climb the bank. Kristin had not realized she was holding her breath until it left her with a sigh of relief.

“Ya got grit, missy.” The freighter grinned at her. “Scared spitless, warn’t ya? But ya didn’t let out a peep.”

“It’s the first time I’ve ever been on a freight wagon, much less crossing a river.”

“Ya did good. I feared ya might go belly up on me.”

“Faint? I’ve never fainted in my life.”

“We get to that grove ahead we’ll make a short stop to rest the mules a mite. Ya can stretch your legs. Boss man usually makes camp midmorning and cook breaks out the vittles, but Cletus wanted we get ya on up to the Larkspur. We’ll just keep going and make Larkspur by noon. We’ll call it a day ’bout midafternoon.”