The Outlaw's Kiss (an Old West Romance) (Wild West Brides) (7 page)

“Eli? No, what are you talking about? I like him a
great deal, but he’s only part of the picture.”

But father heard nothing of it. The same thing
that made him a brilliant businessman also made him a rather frustrating
conversational partner. “When I let you talk me into bringing you out here, I
ruined your chance to be a nice, normal girl. With a family. Like you used to
say you wanted.”

“Father, I never said anything of the sort. How
long have you been sitting on these feelings? Only hours ago you were excited
about impending wealth and – and wanted my help. And now this? I just don’t
understand what’s happened.” I felt my cheeks flush.

He took a deep breath, visibly calming somewhat. “Oh
I’m sorry,” he said with a shaking voice. “I’m afraid I let my temper get the
best of me. Those two men just got me all –”

“How do there!”

I just about jumped out of my skin at the sudden
noise. One of my slick-soled boots slid out from under me and before I knew
what was happening, I was on the way to the dusty, rocky ground when an arm
caught me about the middle and hauled me back to my feet.

“Oh my,” I said, pushing a fallen lock out of my
face. “I don’t... you certainly moved quickly.”

“No, no, I’m as sorry as can be, ma’am. I didn’t
mean to startle you.” The man had a dirty face, but an attractive one. And the
arm he still had around my waist was thick and strong with muscle. I absently
let my hands settle on his shoulders.

“Th – thank you,” I muttered. “For, uh, keeping me
from falling over. With all these rocks, that would have given me quite a cut.”
I shook my head, coming to my senses enough to be embarrassed. “I’m sorry sir.”
I got my feet underneath myself and tried to regain what was left of my
dignity.

“Quite all right, ma’am,” he said with a charming
smile. “Again, it was my fault. I should have spoken up from further away.
You’re sure you’re not hurt?”

I shook my head, still staring directly at my
feet. “Quite fine, sir.”

“Fine, that’s just fine. Any rate – pleased to
meet you, I’m Davis Clark. I saw you talking with Goldtooth and his dog-like
companion back at base camp, but couldn’t catch up in time. Those two certainly
like to keep abreast of everyone’s business, don’t they?”

“That they do,” Father said, extending his hand.
“Good to meet you, Jefferson James. That’s my daughter Clara. We were embroiled
in a very serious conversation, I’m afraid neither of us saw you coming.”

Mr. Clark chuckled softly and removed my hands
from his shoulders. “Always a welcome surprise to see a lovely lady out here,”
he said. “Pardon my forwardness. I’ve been in Deadwood too long to remember the
proper way to behave myself. Well, I can see that you two are busy. I just
wanted to come by and make myself less than a stranger. My claim’s the next one
down from here. I work it with my son Peter, and a couple of hired hands, but
he’s off on some fool adventure presently. Decided he’d like to try fur
trapping, despite my warnings against it.”

At that, my father shot me a look which I chose to
ignore to avoid public anger.

“Thank you, Mr. Clark,” Father said. “We’ll be in
touch I’m sure. Working this close together, you just never know. Your offer
extends to us – if you should need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Sir,” Mr. Clark said with a tip of his hat. “Miss
James, will you permit me?” He reached for my hand. Just like Eli and Mr.
Bullock, he kissed it most politely before replacing it at my side. “Pleasure
to meet you both.” He turned to leave before stopping for a moment and spinning
back around. “One more thing. You’ve probably heard this from any number of
people before, but the dangers here aren’t the snakes or the spiders or the
Sioux.”

“So we’ve been told,” Father said with a slight
sigh.

Mr. Clark raised his hand to his lips before
continuing. “I’m saying this not to be a braggart, but so you know I’m being
honest with you. I can tell from the brief exchange we’ve had that you two are
a good sort. My claim is working. It’s not a motherlode by any stretch, but
it’s made me wealthy and doesn’t seem to be stopping.”

“I see,” Father said. “But if you’re advising
caution, then why –”

“Because the only safety that exists out here is
in numbers. The good lot has to stick together. I have a feeling this claim
you’re sitting on is a rich one, but I’ve nothing to back that. I’ll also say
this: I don’t want it. Beware anyone who does.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you for your honesty. I’ll
keep that in mind.”

As he turned to leave a second time, Mr. Clark
touched the brim of his hat and smiled. “We’ll be seein’ you around.”

“Well,” Father said. “Did you hear that?”

“I believe so, but –”

“That’s the second person who said I’m sitting on
something big.”

I pursed my lips. The two of us had heard vastly
different things from Mr. Clark.

For the rest of the day I busied myself with my
journal as father set up a complex series of screened pans along the creek.
When he was finished, he clapped his hands. “That does it! Now, tomorrow, we
come back and see where to go from here.”

“That’s wonderful, father,” I said burying my
skepticism. “How do you tell?”

Still with a broad grin, Father replied, “I was
hoping you knew. One more thing to ask Mr. Star about tomorrow before we head
out, I suppose!” He chuckled.

I cringed. The mounting warnings, my father’s
eager unpreparedness, it all made me uneasy. I took a deep breath, filling my
lungs with the cooling early evening air. Even an hour’s ride from the town,
the air was crisper, cleaner; almost sweet as it filled my body.

“Yes,” I said. “I suppose so. Let’s go home.”

September 18, 1878

Deadwood, Dakota Territory

––––––––

T
wo days had passed without any excitement since my
last trip to the claim when I was awakened just after dawn by a rapturous
knocking at the front door.

“Mr. James? You in?” It was Sol Star looking
rather disheveled. “Mr. James! Letter’s come, it was marked urgent!” I’d never
heard the man so upset. He was completely without that chipper, cheerful voice
to which I’d accustomed myself. “Mr. James?” He knocked again.

“Goodness, Mr. Star. What could be the matter?”
Father opened the door dressed only in his long johns and trousers. His
suspenders weren’t even pulled up yet, and he still had the remnants of his
morning shave on his jaw. “Has someone died?”

Mr. Star’s hand hung frozen in the air for a
moment as though he’d never seen someone in such disarray. His mouth flapped
soundlessly like a confused fish. “Apologies, Mr. James,” he finally said.
“Very sorry about the early call and the urgency, but I’ve gotten a message
from New York for you.”

“A message? How?”

“By way of telegraph. I have a number of talents.”
Mr. Star laughed nervously. “Most of which revolve around delivering things to
people and trying to convince them to pay me upon receipt of said. At any rate,
would you like me to read the message to you, or are you equipped to –”

“You mean can I read? Yes I’m fine to read. Thank
you, Mr. Star,” Father reached out to accept the small, brown, folded paper.
Almost at the same instant, Mr. Star touched the brim of his derby and turned
on his heel to depart.

With our visitor gone, I descended the stairs
still in my nightclothes. “What is it father? Something urgent from the sound
of things.”

He shrugged. “It’s from Francis.”

“Good news?” I asked.

“Hardly.” His shoulders slumped visibly. “He says
our latest railroad investment has gone rather badly.”

From the way he was gnawing his mustache, ‘rather
badly’ was a grand understatement. “Oh, too bad,” I said. “Is the loss
worrying?”

“It’s nothing.” He stuffed the envelope in his
pocket. “I don’t mean to shush you, Clara. You’re a good girl, asking after
your father’s business. In truth, it is quite bad. Very worrying, but nothing
we can’t cure with a few thousand pounds of gold.”

Father pursed his lips. He was too proud to admit
just how worried he was, but I could easily tell. I patted him on the shoulder.
“Well, what shall we do? Dress and get to the claim?”

“You’re coming with me? I thought you had quite
enough of being wet and sweaty and-”

He was interrupted with another, less urgent,
series of knocks.

“Well I’ll be. Damned people showing up at all
hours and,” he trailed off into a nearly inaudible series of grumbles. “I could
really do without this sort of business of a morning,” he said to me before
turning to the door and asking after who was knocking.

“Eustace Rawls, calling, Mr. James. I brought some
refreshments up from the inn’s buffet if you’re taken with a hunger.”

A heavy sigh made my father’s shoulders rise
almost to his ears before he exhaled with a groan. “Right, give me one moment,
if you please. I’ve still got soap on my face.” Father wiped himself off, fixed
his suspenders and answered the door with uncertain lethargy.

“Good morning to you, sir!” Rawls was far less
gruff than he’d been the last time I saw him, and far less drunk than the first
time when he was being dragged about by his ear by the Sheriff Bullock.

“Morning to you, Mr. Rawls,” Father nodded. “And
to you, Ernie.”

“Please, call me Goldtooth. Everyone friendly
does. And he’s just the Captain. Ernie had a part in some of the most important
battles of the Civil War, you know.”

Father chose not to pursue that line of
conversation, instead directing talk back to the point of the two men’s visit.
“I was just about to head to the claim for the day, what can I help you with?”

“Eggs?” Mr. Rawls handed a filled and covered
plate to my father. “Bacon in there too. Quite good this morning. Cook outdid herself,
I think. Here, have a seat.” He pushed a chair out from the breakfast table and
indicated father sit in it.

Captain Ernie’s eyes never stopped moving around
the room. They darted from place to place like a nervous lizard’s. I couldn’t
stop looking at him though. His round, pug-like face and flat button-nose
fascinated me, especially when paired with the rest of his short, stout body
and thick fingers. When his gaze moved to me, I looked away briefly, but of
course that’s where he decided to stop his constant glancing. I felt his eyes
move up and down my person, surveying me; studying me.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “You caught me in
mid-dress. I must excuse myself to finish.”

“Oh, Clara,” Goldtooth said as he turned toward
me, “I didn’t notice you there. Please, don’t be inconvenienced by our
presence. We won’t be long.”

Thank the Lord for that
.

Back upstairs, I was still able to hear the
proceedings clearly, but without that lecherous man gazing lustily upon me and
was instantly more comfortable. I busied myself with dressing in my
claim-working skirts and apron to keep from eavesdropping too much. At least
that was my intent.

“Eggs are quite good.” Father was speaking with
his mouth full. “But what is it I can do for you two gentlemen? Quite a busy
day ahead.”

“I’ll get straight to the point, Jefferson. May I
call you Jefferson? Good. I’ll get right to it. You’ve no doubt heard a few
choice things about the Captain and myself, judging from the company you’ve
kept since coming to Deadwood.” His voice turned up in pitch at the end of his
sentence. “And I understand that your first impression of me was less than
complimentary. But I’ve come to warn you about those men who you’ve sidled up
against.”

I tied my apron and gathered my broad-brimmed hat
and sat down on the foot of my bed. As it happened, that was the best place
from which to listen through the floorboards. I tried to stand, but as soon as
my father’s voice came back, more heated than before, I couldn’t tear myself
away, impropriety couldn’t unseat my curiosity.

“Truly?” Father laughed briefly. “I can’t imagine
Mr. Star, or Mr. Bullock being untrustworthy, given their reputations. They’ve
been nothing but kind since our arrival.”

There was a patient, rhythmic tapping of
fingernails on the table top.

“Mr. James – ah, Jefferson – let me be clear.
These people are not who they appear. Seth Bullock ran to Deadwood to get away
from a broken marriage. Did you know that?” Rawls’s voice had gotten strained
and more intense than it had been moments before. “He can’t keep his hands off
of women who he isn’t married to. And if rumors are to be believed, this wasn’t
the first time, nor the second, that his urges got the best of him.”

“I don’t see how that has any effect on my
dealings with the sheriff, Mr. Rawls.” My father was trying his best to be
patient.

“Goldtooth.”

Silence hung between them for a moment. “Yes,
Goldtooth, I meant. But the man’s personal business has nothing to do with how
he keeps order.”

“The other day, round-about noon, he was walking
the camp’s streets with Clara. Arm in arm, they were.” There was something I
couldn’t place in that man’s voice that turned my stomach. “Cavorting about
like they were courting.”

“Oh, now Mr. Rawls, Goldtooth, I mean that’s just
ridiculous. Sheriff Bullock was likely showing her around town while Mr. Star
and I were reconnoitering my claim. Surely you don’t mean to insinuate
something with your comments.”

“No, no, not at all.” A chair moved, and boots
thumped on the wood floor. “I don’t insinuate, Jefferson, I’m just trying to
help. But my words don’t end with Bullock. Mr. Star is a well-known cheat, both
at cards and in business, and Davis Clark doesn’t have a shred of gold on his
claim.”

With that, I finally put my finger on what so
bothered me about the man. Aside from Rawls’s feigned manners and his
gruffness, I didn’t like the freeness with which he aired his grievances – real
or imagined – about other people and their business.