The Shopkeeper (31 page)

“The tutor you sent me.” Her unaffected smile seemed to convey affection. At least, that was my hope. “I guess I owe you a lot. Her coming here made me brave enough to face my new world.”

With everyone’s spirits so high, I harbored good expectations as we walked to the house. In the background, I heard Jenny yell instructions about the new calf to one of the hands. She obviously knew her way around animals.

“Good afternoon, Teach,” I said to the newly transformed chambermaid.

“Mr. Dancy, a pleasure.”

Joe gave me a pat on the back and left for the corral. The new Jenny directed me into the familiar parlor and returned shortly with two glasses of lemonade.

After taking an appreciative swallow, I said, “Looks like you’ve settled in right smartly.”

“I’ve found a home. At least for the time being.” She looked a touch embarrassed. “This may be presumptuous, but you saved two lives when you sent me here. Thank you.”

“I’m sure both of you would have done just fine without me.”

“Probably true, but you made us happy with our lives. I’m safe and needed and nourished. And Jenny has someone she can talk to. A friend. Someone she can end the day with.”

Suddenly, I felt wary. The happiness at this ranch had nothing to do with the end to the Washburn affair or my showing up. My self-absorption had caused me to completely misjudge the situation.

Jenny, or Teach, regaled me with the details of her pupil’s rapid progress. It seemed Jenny devoured her lessons like a starving lioness. I was grateful to see my Jenny finally bounce into the room, looking bright as a newly bloomed daisy. Her face was scrubbed rosy, her eyes twinkled green, and her yellow dress made the sun look pale.

“Mr. Dancy, you can’t imagine my surprise and delight when I saw my only friend in the world ride up in that buggy. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

I was less enthused with my good deed. “You’re more than welcome, but I was wondering if I could speak to you alone.”

This made both women giggle. Without a word, the ex-chambermaid left the room and softly closed the door.

After a few moments of embarrassed silence, I realized Jenny was waiting for me to say something. “I hear your lessons are going well.”

“No. Not business, I meant—” I stopped because the look on her face said she was playing with me. I cleared my throat. “I mean personally. I know you’ve been through a lot lately; we both have, but since that first time I saw you, I—”

She held up a hand to stop me. “I surmised as much, but I can’t let you continue.” All humor and even the exuberance had left her face. “This has been difficult, and I’m not—”

She looked down at her lap. “Mr. Dancy, you’re right. I have been through a lot. My husband’s been murdered, I killed a man, and foul-smelling men have raped me. My husband watched some, and my mother-in-law engineered the others.” She lifted her chin. “I’ll survive. In time, I might heal. But right now, I need a friend, not a lover.”

“Excuse me, I wasn’t proposing anything … anything like that now. I just needed to know if I courted, would I be received?”

“Mr. Dancy, I suspect you’re a good man. I know your actions have generally been well-intentioned, but I don’t know you, and I don’t have the energy to get to know you.”

The air seemed to have been squeezed out of my chest. “Energy follows desire,” I offered weakly.

“Right now, my desire is book learning … with my tutor. I’m sorry.”

Was there something more? Something between the words? I wasn’t sure, but I was extremely grateful to hear Sharp’s voice outside the open window.

I stood and peeked around the curtains. “That’s Jeff Sharp. We’re going to Colorado for a spell. It was a pleasure seeing you again … and I’m especially pleased to see you happy again.”

“Again?” She actually looked startled by the term.

“A poor choice of words, perhaps. Anyway, we must be going.” I stepped toward her and held out my hand. Her shake befitted a rancher.

For several miles we kept our thoughts to ourselves. Eventually, Sharp turned in his saddle and leaned his hand on the horn. “Steve, go back.”

“I can’t. At least, not now.”

I kept my head and Chestnut facing east.

More Steve Dancy

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Leadville
by James D. Best

Chapter 1

“Three.”

“Days or weeks?” I asked.

“Days.” Jeff Sharp squinted at the telegram as if it hid additional information. Rubbing the back of his neck, he added, “He can’t make it. It’s a six-day ride.”

“If Captain McAllen says he’ll be here in three days, we’d better have a room ready for him at the hotel.”

“A bath too.” Sharp handed me the telegram. “What d’ya s’pose put such a charge under him?”

I read the telegram and absentmindedly ran my fingers through my hair. I needed a haircut. Although I had been out West for almost two years, I remained vain about my sandy-colored hair. When it was neat and trimmed, I thought I looked the handsome gent, no matter how I dressed.

After a second reading, I shook my head. “Doesn’t say much. He sent it from his Denver office, but I don’t think it’s Pinkerton business.”

“Why not?”

I handed the telegram back. “He wouldn’t ask us for help on a professional engagement.”

We had lingered in Durango several days beyond the needs of our business visit. Now our friend wanted to meet us here in three days’ time. Sharp had come to Durango to hunt up mining investments but decided against putting his money into any of the available enterprises. The gold and silver boom had driven prices far beyond what an experienced miner would pay, and Sharp lost all interest when he discovered that the Denver and Rio Grande Railway had already started to incorporate the encampment into a town. Sharp preferred his investments and beefsteaks rare, if not downright raw.

Captain Joseph McAllen was actually Sharp’s friend. McAllen was a no-nonsense sort whom I guessed to be in his late thirties or early forties. I was not sure, because McAllen was not the type of man you could ask a personal question.

I had employed McAllen and his team of Pinkertons in Nevada and felt we had developed a level of respect for each other. Not right away. It had been a dangerous affair; far beyond the bodyguard work I had originally contracted. At the time, I was fresh from New York City, and McAllen did not appreciate my tenderfoot antics. But all that was in the past: two months ago, in the summer of 1879.

Dr. Dooley suddenly plopped into a seat beside us in the hotel dining room. “I’m going.”

“Figured,” Sharp said.

Dooley was the third in our party. We had all ridden together from Nevada, Sharp to look at mines and Dooley to take a job at a consumption clinic. I was just along for the ride. Exploring the West had been my profession for over a year now, ever since I had sold my shop in New York City on my thirtieth birthday. Most of my wandering had proved uneventful, but I had run into trouble in a mining camp called Pickhandle Gulch, and Sharp and McAllen had helped me escape alive.

Dooley was only a few years older than me, but he affected the image of a rumpled and seasoned doctor. Our friend Jeff Sharp had been to Europe and South America, worked mines, driven a stage, bossed a cattle drive, and acted as an agent for a New York importer. Now, in his early fifties, he had settled on a career as a wealthy mine owner, although he dressed and acted more like a range boss.

We both knew what Dolley meant when he said he was going. Three days ago, a band of Utes had snatched a fourteen-year-old girl who had been exercising her colt near Mesa Verde. The kidnapping had caused a stir, and newspapers demanded that the men in the community track down the renegades and recapture the girl.

Everyone in southwest Colorado was up in arms. The more reasonable citizens wanted the Utes brought to justice and publicly hanged, but most people just wanted instant punishment. A few rambunctious hotheads had already formed makeshift posses and raced into the San Juan Mountains, intent on being town heroes. One posse had taken time to provision properly, recruit a half-breed that spoke the Ute language, and get a mountain tracker to join the group. This same posse had asked Dooley to ride along with them in case the girl needed medical assistance.

“We won’t be joinin’ you,” Sharp said. “A telegram from Captain McAllen asked us to wait for him. He says he’ll be here in three days, and you men might be gone for weeks.”

“Utes don’t grab women, and small bands of renegades are even less likely to do it. They move fast, an’ they don’t have any place to take ’em.”

“Perhaps they wanted her horse,” Dooley said.

“They’d take the horse, all right, but they woulda left her in the sage to fend for herself. The whole episode doesn’t make sense.”

None of us said anything more, so Dooley stood. “I gotta git.” He started toward the door but had a thought. “Is McAllen coming because of this girl?”

“Too slick.” Sharp lifted his empty coffee cup for the waitress to see. When he turned his attention back to me, he added, “People talk about him like he’s a town leader, but he’s only been here a couple months, an’ no one knows a damn thing about him.”

“Seems an upright, friendly sort.”

Sharp shook his head, as though trying to dislodge an uneasy thought. “Can’t put my finger on it, but somethin’ ain’t bolt down tight with that man. An’ he took his sweet time getting this posse on the trail.”

“Jeff, one of the posses has already returned with tired horses and empty saddlebags.”

“Yep, a trek into the mountains takes plannin’, but there’s a big difference between one hour an’ three days. Grant looked to be stallin’.”

The same thought had occurred to me. I may have been a newcomer to the West, but even I knew that trails grow cold, especially trails left by Indians.

It bothered me that Grant seemed so intent on raising money. He had met with all the town businessmen and elders, one at a time and in private. I had no idea how much money he had gathered up, but he had certainly garnered a wealth of goodwill. Everyone praised his single-minded preparations and his unwavering vow to bring the girl home.

When not raising money, Grant had spent the last three days with the child’s parents, who had fixed all their hopes on this paladin. The girl’s father was the sole preacher in town, and his handsome wife taught in the only school. They were the civilizing force in this rough mining encampment, and their plight drew sympathy, prayers, and, I suspected, healthy cash contributions.