The Outlaw's Kiss (an Old West Romance) (Wild West Brides) (2 page)

Briefly, that idea didn’t seem so terrible. But
something inside me, perhaps the way that man had bored into me with his eyes
when he looked my way. “No,” I said, shaking my head and surprising both myself
and father. “For some reason I feel the need to stick to this. And I’ve got you
to protect me. What’ve I to fear? And any of that is preferable to a life
behind a closed door married to Francis Malone. I’ll need at least another ten
years before considering that sort of sedate life.”

Father snickered softly. “Don’t think you’re the
only James woman who didn’t want a husband. Perhaps not even long after she had
one. You’re a good girl, Clara. Just like your mother was.” I sensed the
tiniest tremble in the corner of my father’s eye when he mentioned my departed
mother, whom he swears I mirror in appearance and personality. She died with my
birth, so all I know of her is a single portrait and what he’s told me.

Mr. Masterson appeared from the saloon door, breaking
up our short exchange, whistled at us and trotted over from the swinging doors.
“Carriages are here!” He said, waving his arms over his head, toward the first
one. “If I didn’t talk you out of it anyway.”

“No,” I said, when my father remained silent. “I’m
just nervous about the trip. I’m not much for horses, you see.”

Eli turned up one corner of his mouth in a smirk.
“I reckon you’re going to get your fill of the things in the days to come. You
two will be in the front coach. It’ll be the safest if the Sioux decide to run
a raid.” With the way he was grinning, it was hard to tell if he was serious or
not. “I wouldn’t worry about that too much, though, not this time of year
anyway. They’re following the river into the western reaches of their hunting
grounds. Look,” he took off his hat. “I didn’t mean to frighten you with what I
said, Mr. James. Truly I didn’t.”

“No, no, you were merely being honest. From what
you say though, the town is beginning to settle somewhat. I’m sure things will
be
just
exciting enough. After what you told me though, I am a bit on
edge about the content of my claim, though.”

“Well, I can’t do anything for your gold. Whether
or not there’s any color in the ground that you bought is up to God. But what I
can
guarantee is that I’ll make sure you get to Deadwood safe.” He
turned away and helped the man in front of the first carriage down, then
replaced him in the bench.

“How can you promise such a thing, Mr. Masterson?”
I said.

My father stood and wiped his brow again as a team
of men carried our belongings to the luggage coach.

“Please, call me Eli. We’re going to be together
quite a time, Miss James.” He reached down and offered his hand, which I took.
“I’ll be driving you to Deadwood. That’s how I can swear your safety.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “But, father, isn’t
someone named Barber to be our guide?”

Eli heard me, and looked back, eyes flashing.
“Horatio? He owns the company. These wagons are his, but this trail is mine.”

Such sureness, such half-restrained bravado, would
normally have put me off someone immediately. In the past half-hour though,
this man had shown himself by turns polite, caring, and strong besides. I
supposed that he was what a
real
cowboy was supposed to be.

A gust blew, pelting the side of the coach, and my
face through the open window, with a blast of hot air. Just in time, I closed
the curtain, blocking the trailing puff of dust that always came after a wind.

“Round ‘em up!” Eli shouted to the other drivers.
“Luggage all loaded?”

Someone at the end of the line shouted that everything
was ready and everyone was onboard.

“Hold on, Mr. James, hold on ma’am.” His blue eyes
twinkled when he turned to face us where we sat in the back of the coach. “It’s
gonna be one hell of a bumpy ride.”

“Hyah!”

Eli snapped the reins that held the tremendous
horses to the front of the carriage. It lurched, the axles groaned.

I looked up and out the front of the wagon, past
Eli, and into the sun which had just begun to descend. I put my hand on my
father’s knee, and he turned.

“I get the feeling we’re gonna find what we’re
looking for out here,” he said. His mood was already improving.

Smiling, I gave him a nod. He was after gold.
Father was after a fortune. As for me? I was after something much, much
different. Something I wasn’t quite sure I could even define, much less
find
in the wilds of the Dakotas.

Once again I stared out the front of the coach,
but this time, my eyes didn’t go past Eli, they settled on the black hair
peeking out from under his hat. Even though a husband was the last thing on my
mind, the way this rough-shod cowboy had smiled, the way he comforted my father,
something about him just struck me. Suddenly, I was thankful for the week of
travel it would take to reach our destination.

“We just might,” I said, my voice distant. “We
just might.”

August 25, 1878

Deadwood Trail, Dakota Territory

––––––––

“O
h, no, I’m not worried at all.” My father swept a
handkerchief across his sweaty face and looked over at me across the campfire.
“The hills in the Dakotas are full of gold. Why else would someone like George
Hearst have any interest in opening an operation? He doesn’t make mistakes.
Often anyway.”

He sat across from Thurston Grund, a man traveling
from New Hampshire all the way to the Oregon territory, the two of them eating
beans and drinking coffee as the sun went down. From listening to Mr. Grund,
Oregon was a Promised Land. Trees and rivers as far as the eye could see, and
everyone was friendly, even the Blackfoot.

Mr. Grund grunted a laugh. “George Hearst,” he
said dramatically, “is a right humbug artist! He could talk a rock out of a
thousand dollars. I hope you didn’t buy that claim because George Hearst
thought it was a good idea.”

Of the small group of travelers, he and my father
became the fastest friends. Both men fought in the War, and both loved the idea
of adventure and traveling to see what there was to see. Aside from those two,
and myself and Eli – who had been treating me like a perfect gentleman, forever
minding my steps and offering his hand when it came time to step out of the
wagon – were Mr. Grund’s three children. May was the youngest, a girl of three.
After her came Abigail and Martha who were seven and eight. All of them were
slight children who took after their mother, an elegant woman also named
Abigail, who largely remained in their coach, but sometimes emerged for coffee.

Seeing the two of them reminded me a bit of
my
mother.
Or rather, she reminded me of stories I’d heard. She passed shortly after I was
born from consumption, and I’d been too young to have much recollection.

“Deadwood! Hah!” This time it was Mr. Thomas
Martin’s turn to laugh. Mr. Martin was some kind of cattle baron from Texas who
was traveling to Oregon to secure a land grant. “Must be as crazy as a
forty-niner. The only people making money off gold claims are the ones selling
the damn things. Well, them and those who own the brothels. What’s that
fellah’s name? Swearengen? Something like that?”

Father shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you. Only Deadwood
residents I’ve heard of are Wild Bill and that Montana sheriff who went after
Jack McCall when he shot Hickok. Past that, I’m as fresh to the place as a
newly-born babe.”

The look on my father’s face told the whole story.
I hadn’t seen him smiling like this, well, ever. In the few days travelling
west from Yankton, I saw him turn into someone I hardly knew, but he was just
so
happy
. Each morning, he helped Eli and the other drivers load the
wagons and break camp, then he smoked his pipe and as often as not, sat abreast
of Eli as he drove the coach. Today was no different, and tonight was more of
the same.

Night fell, and the stars went up. Brilliant, like
a thousand-thousand holes in the black night’s sky. And, just as I had the
night before, and the one before that, I leaned against a sparse, nearly-bare
tree just outside the ring of heat radiating from the fire. The slight chill
the Dakota winds carried was wonderful – I never had anything like that in New
York.

And the stars! The first time I looked up at them
on the day after we left Yankton, I probably sat there until an hour before
dawn, entranced by the splendor. Eli sat with me that night, pointing out
different constellations, and telling me stories that the Sioux had about them.
At first, he barely spoke, but as time went on, we both loosened up.

He pointed half-way between the horizon and the
horizon. “That one up there, that’s Orion.”

“This is the first time I’ve ever actually
seen
the stars. I’ve read about them of course, but in the city, there’s not much
chance to actually see them.”

“That’s a shame.” He turned to me, the orange of
the fire flickering in his eyes. Somewhere in the distance, a sound caught
Eli’s attention for a moment. He squinted into the darkness. “Like I was saying,
that’s a shame. It’s good for a soul to be out under the stars reminds us – or
reminds me anyways – that there’s a whole damn lot out there.”

For a moment we sat in silence, his even breathing
only a few feet away, taking all my attention. The stars were beautiful of
course, but I couldn’t get my mind off of Eli for long enough to appreciate
them.

“That’s the Great Mother,” he said softly,
pointing somewhere else that I could hardly attend.

“Isn’t that Ursa? The bear?” I asked.

“Sioux call her the Great Mother. I been out here
so long I get mixed up between the different names.” His voice sounded slightly
distant as he spoke. “I dunno, maybe it is a bear. Looks a little skinny to me
though.”

I giggled softly. “Some bears can be skinny,
especially in the winter,” I said.

Again he turned his head, though I turned to face
him that time, the orange flickering on his face catching my full attention.
“You read that too?”

Nodding, I sat up and curled my knees to my chest.
“After they hibernate, isn’t that right?”

“Sure,” he said. “Worst time to catch one. Most
bears aren’t very easy to irritate. They know they’re
bears
, so what do
they have to be irritated about?”

Our hands moved closer together on the ground,
though neither of us was going to make it obvious. A moment later, he, too, sat
up straight and stretched his legs in front of himself.

“Why do the Sioux fascinate you so much, Eli? I’m
sorry if that’s too forward,” I stumbled over my words.

“No, not at all. Suppose it is a little curious,
me knowing all this business about people who are supposed to be our horrible
enemies?”

I just watched his face, bathed in moonlight,
waiting for him to continue.

Eli shrugged. “You been out here as long as me,
you start to change the way you see things. They’re not monsters. They’re not
even our enemies.”

That caught my attention. “But aren’t they
dangerous?”

“Bears,” he said. “You wouldn’t go into the
forest, looking to kill a bear, and then blame him for getting upset, would
you?”

“No, I suppose not,” I said. “Do you mean they
can’t control themselves?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. I mean they’re
being hunted. All they’re doing is taking back what’s rightfully theirs.
Sorry,” he said with another shake of his head. “I get carried away about
this.”

Another crackling sound caught another sidelong
glance. “What about you,” he said, reaching over to pat me on the shoulder.
When his fingers clapped my back, warmth crept through me. “What do you think
of all this, Clara? You seemed a little more than nervous the other day in
Yankton.”

“I thought we were past the Miss James business,”
I said, doing my best to avoid thinking about my deeper feelings. But then, it
hit me right out of the blue. Leaving home, the long train ride, and now
halfway down a trail to a barely-controlled town in the middle of nowhere. My
fingertips began to tremble. I reached up and placed my hand upon Eli’s, mindlessly
squeezing. Shortly, I pulled my hand away.

“Sorry for that.” I trailed off.

“No, not at all. We all get afraid sometimes. No
reason to be ashamed.” Eli’s voice was soft and steady, even when another sound
in the distance momentarily took his eyes from my face. “What’s upsetting you?”

“I think,” I took a deep breath. “I’m afraid more
for my father than for me, as silly as that may sound. If this claim doesn’t
work out, or something happens to me, he’ll never forgive himself.”

Eli scooted nearer to me, so close that we almost
touched. “Can I tell you a secret? Gotta do it real quiet so no one can hear.”

I couldn’t help but giggle.

“You have to promise not to laugh at me, all
right, Miss Ja – sorry, Clara. Promise?”

“I do,” I said.

“First time I had a scouting job, I had just
turned sixteen. The War was coming to an end, but there were parts out there –
Virginia, the Carolinas – where things were just as lively as ever. I decided
to join up because, well, I was stupid, to put it brusquely. Thought I’d have a
grand adventure.”

I squeezed Eli’s hand, almost nervous over what he
was going to say, but his even, calm voice lulled me.

“Well as it happened, my first orders came down. I
was to go scout out some hill or another, and report back about what ‘twas I
saw. When I got up there, to that hill, all I saw was a bunch of campfires
below – soldiers, you see – and I knew there was going to be a battle soon.”

“What did you do?” I was hanging on his every
word.

“Reported back,” he said abruptly. “But it was all
I could do to keep my lips from shaking so hard I couldn’t talk. There must’ve
been twenty or thirty thousand men in that camp I spied out.”