The dealing had gone on well into the morning as Bob’s whiskey thwarted his efforts to get his money back, and Rosie spent about fifteen dollars an hour on poker-face lessons, the money completely wasted.
Zahn’s mules huffed pillow-sized clouds of frosty breath into the frigid air. Simon had not made it to the lumber camp as planned, so Tay, Plato and Zahn had left camp early one brittle morning in the third week of December. Daggett, wrapped in two blankets, sat beside Zahn in the driver’s box. He was comfortable in his north-woods wool clothes and high-top boots. Tay, wrapped in his shaggy buffalo robe, tagged along behind on his horse. They pulled to a stop in front of Amos’s place.
“I ain’t never gonna thaw out,” grumped Daggett as he gingerly dropped to the ground. He winced as his feet struck the frozen earth.
Tay climbed off his horse. “Hell, that weren’t nothin. Ya coulda been walkin’ with half a dozen Injuns doggin’ yer trail.” The grimace on his face betrayed his discomfort.
Zahn joined the two of them, and they pushed open the door of the saloon.
“Who are these bearded ruffians?” Twiggs asked, his voice teasing. He hustled around the bar and across the room. “How’re you doing, Plato? You look like hell, but somehow fit as a draft horse.”
“I need a bath, a shave and something, anything to eat that Tay ain’t had his hands on.” Daggett sidestepped a perfunctory kick from the prospector.
“Ya don’t have no trouble eatin’ yer share, I noticed,” Tay said.
“Where’s Lori?” Zahn headed for the kitchen.
“You’re headed in the right direction,” Twiggs said. “Bang on the door when you go by Simon’s office.”
Zahn knocked once on the office door as he passed and then went into the kitchen.
Simon’s head snapped around at the squeal of delight he heard as he walked out of his room. “What in hell?” he half shouted. Then he saw Tay and Daggett. “Hello, fellas. I’m really glad to see you. I gather Zahn has found Lori?” He nodded at the kitchen door and grinned as he headed toward the three men.
“Found we were not going to make it another month on the food,” Daggett said. “Tay didn’t figger on feeding lumbermen. We eat a lot.”
“You can say that agin,” Tay said. “I ain’t never seen folks eat the way those two do. I’ve shot two deer since you left, and we’ve eat every scrap.”
Zahn and Lori came out of the kitchen, Lori’s face radiating the happiness that showed in her step. “What a wonderful Christmas present,” she said.
“Everybody take a chair at Amos’s table, and I’ll get us something special to drink,” Twiggs offered. He started back to the bar.
“Better not count on me,” Daggett said.
Twiggs stopped and turned back. “Nothing?”
“Nope. Had my last drink the night before we pulled out in September.”
Twiggs exchanged a knowing smile with Simon and continued on to the bar. When he returned, he had a decanter of French brandy and a bottle of sarsaparilla in one hand, and six stacked glasses in the other. Set up, he poured five glasses full.
“Here’s to our friends, home safe and sound, and to the empty glass that shall remain empty ever more. Congratulations, Plato.” Twiggs raised his glass, and the others followed.
“Congratulations. Welcome home. To a warm welcome.” The salutes all melded into one chorus as the group drank the warm liquid.
The front door opened and Buell stepped in. “Hey, where’s mine?” he asked when he saw the fancy bottle.
“You can use my empty glass, Buell,” Plato said. “I ain’t needin’ one.”
“Ya quit? Well, I’ll be damned.” Buell looked at Twiggs, and some private message silently passed between them. Buell then poured himself a glass of Amos’s expensive brandy and tossed the shot back. “Damn, that is good stuff.” He wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Amos is about half an hour behind me. I saw him at the tradin’ store.”
“How was yer trip back in October, Simon?” Tay asked. “I was worried as hell after ya left. That storm pounced on us like a polecat on a prairie chicken. I was hopin’ you’d hustled on out ahead of it.”
“Caught me. My horse broke a leg running for cover, and Spud more or less dragged me to your place. Lucky for me, Walks Fast just happened to be there. My toes still itch when they get too warm.”
“I knew that dog was special. Ya say Walks Fast was waitin’?”
“Yep. Opened the door and there I stood.”
Tay’s eyebrows shot up for an instant, and he stared at Simon’s face for a moment. “I see,” he said. “Lucky for you.”
The look on the older man’s face puzzled Simon, and he resolved to ask him about it later. “How’s it going up there, Zahn?”
Zahn didn’t answer. He held Lori’s hand and stared placidly at her face.
“Zahn?” Simon pressed.
Lori nodded her head toward Simon and made a face at her husband.
“What?” He looked at Simon.
“I said, how’s it going with the timber cutting?”
“Oh, real good. We have everything we need down and stacked by the pit. The three of us are just sawing now. I think we’ll have it done in another month if the weather holds. So far, the snow has helped. Makes the skidding easy.”
“That’s good to hear. The sooner you guys are back down here, the better I’ll feel. I’ve seen firsthand how easy it is to get in trouble.”
“I’ll agree with him, my husband. I don’t like it with you in the mountains.”
“Did it at home. What’s the difference?”
“How ’bout forty men compared to three.”
“Well, you’re right there. Like I said, if the weather holds off, we’ll be back in a month.”
“Okay, I’ve got work to do,” Simon said. “You folks take it easy for a while and get warmed up. Tay and Plato, you’re welcome to free rooms upstairs until you go back.”
“I ain’t gonna turn down a clean bed,” Tay said.
“Me either.” Daggett’s face lit in a smile. “I want a hot bath. I’ve been standin’ in sawdust for two months, and I can feel it startin’ to stick permanent.”
Simon left the group just as Twiggs poured another drink for everybody. The barkeep winked at Buell and mouthed, “You lose,” holding up five fingers and nodding toward Daggett.
As expected, Zahn, Daggett and Tay were back at the ranch the middle of February, all the lumber they needed sawed, stacked and covered with side slabs to keep the snow off. Tay returned to his dugout to spend his time visiting with Walks Fast. Daggett went back to his job at the saloon, now with new responsibilities and an increase in pay. Zahn found work cutting firewood for the inevitable few around the fort who had not lain in sufficient wood for the winter. Simon completed the plans for the little houses, and with time on his hands, spent nearly every evening playing cards and drinking with the regular players. Last night had been such a night, and this morning Simon was paying the piper.
Six inches of oozing mud mixed with horse dung made a quagmire of the street in front of the saloon. The simple act of walking from the house to the saloon had Simon splattered with muck to his knees, and in a mood to quit the area forever. He banged open the door and stormed in. “Lori, bring me a cup of coffee!” he shouted at the closed kitchen door. He wiped his feet as best he could on a couple of feed sacks, then walked across the floor to his office and went in.
A minute later, Lori set the cup on his desk. “Aren’t we in a fine mood this morning?”
“Don’t start. I’ve got a headache, my boots are ruined, and we’re about to run out of flour, in case you haven’t noticed.” He picked up his cup and scowled at the brew. “This fresh?”
“Probably not after you’ve looked at it.”
Simon glared at her. She gazed back, hands on her hips, her head cocked slightly. “Oh, all right,” he said, “I’m sorry. These late nights are killing me, and I’m at fault for not keeping track of the
supplies.”
“That’s better. I’ve got three hundred pounds of cake flour coming from Mister Ward. It’ll be here tomorrow. The bad head is your problem.” She smiled at him and left, closing the door.
Simon looked at the door and remembered another time. If she was any more like Ma, I’d be looking around for Pa. He picked up his cup and rocked back in his chair. He was deep in thought, chasing memories of home around in his head when Buell pushed open the door and came in, followed by Spud.
“Mornin’.” He sat down in the easy chair and looked at his boots. “Ain’t this the shits?”
“What’s got you up this morning? I left you sound asleep, and Spud took one look at the road and went back to bed.” Spud stopped his nest circling for a moment to look at Simon.
“Got something botherin’ me. Did you notice that cattle buyer won last night and pretty good?”
“Yeah. So?”
“This is the third time in as many weeks that some stranger has come in and done that.”
“Cheating?” Simon leaned forward in his chair.
“I’ve been watchin’, and I can’t see it.” Buell shook his head. “I’m not the most experienced player in Wyoming, but even I can see bottom dealing, or something comin’ out of a sleeve or pocket.”
“I really haven’t paid much attention I guess.”
“And another thing. Bob’s been playin’ all three times, and he either won a little or broke even. That ain’t like Bob.”
“So what do you want to do?”
“I want to look at the deck we were using last light. Twiggs has it locked in that little box he keeps the cards and dice in. Only I don’t want Twiggs to know. Do you have a key?”
“Yeah, right here.” Simon opened his desk drawer and took out a set. “I hate to go behind his back though.”
“Would you mind if I got in that drawer when you weren’t here?”
“No, you’re more or less the law here. But now I know why you want to, it’s the same as me—” The look on Buell’s face stopped Simon in midsentence. “No, I don’t care.” He dropped the keys back in their place and shut the drawer.
“Okay, and I’ll keep it to myself.” Buell stood, looked with disgust at his boots, and left.
With the snow gone and the mud dried up, Simon and Buell rode out to see Tay. They found him in front arranging his pack. He stepped to the doorway as he greeted them. “Climb down and I’ll git ya a cup of coffee.” He disappeared into the dugout without waiting for a response.
The men dismounted and were tying their horses up when Walks Fast came out of the hut.
“Good to see you, Simon. And Buell. You come to see Taylor go to Dakota?”
“Guess we are,” Simon said. “Only heard yesterday when I was at the trading post. T. P. said Tay was leaving, but he didn’t say this soon.”
Tay come out of the dugout gingerly handling four cups, steam lifting from them.
“Git aholt of one of these, they’re hotter’n hell.” His face screwed up in discomfort as he quickstepped toward them.
“Smart man knows where to throw a skunk before he picks it up.” Walks Fast chuckled as he slowly relieved Tay of one of the cups.
“Well, gawdammit, ya took yer time.” Tay shook his hand in the air and scowled at the Indian. “Come on. Sit down and tell me what’s goin’ on.”
“Not a lot,” Simon said. “We’re going to go get the lumber you guys sawed last winter. Think all the snow will be gone up there?”
“How’n hell would I know? Reckon you’ll see when ya git there.” Tay noisily slurped from his cup; his eyes sparkled as he teased.
“Well, yer the mountain man,” Buell said. “Yer s’posed to know stuff like that.”
“Says who? Ask Walks Fast. He’s probably already been up there.”
Simon looked at the Indian, color rising in his face. “I’m sorry, Walks Fast. I’ve done it again. Have you been up there yet?”
Walks Fast smiled. “Yes, two times. Your saddle is in bad shape. Pine pigs have eaten much of it. I left it to them. The snow is gone. I stayed in the cabin. The man who made it knew how. Your wood is covered and dry.”
“That’s good to hear. We’re ready to start building the little houses. Exactly when are you leaving, Tay?”
“Anytime. I’ve got my pack made up, and I’ve loaded the mule once already. Sonuvabitch sure hates it in the spring. I always let him kick and bite down here where he’s easy to catch. He knows what he’s doin’, and he knows I know. Little game ’tween us.” Tay looked over at his shoulder at the animal. The rangy mule’s ears were both turned toward them as he listened intently. Tay chuckled. “Sonuvabitch knows his name.”
“Where exactly are ya go—oops.” Buell’s hand went to his mouth. “I don’t mean exactly. Are ya still goin’ to the Dakota Territory?”
“Reckon so. I found a spot in sixty-eight that was just startin’ to pan good. Weather set in and I damn near got caught. I’ll let ya know this fall.”
“Were you going to leave without saying anything?” Simon asked.
“I was gonna leave. Do ya mean was I gonna go all the way out ta McCaffrey’s jist to tell you wouldn’t find me here if ya come visitin’? Now that don’t make a lot of sense does it?”
Simon looked at Buell and then back at Tay. “You have a way of squaring things off, I’ll give you that. But you’re right. Eventually we would have come by and discovered the place shut up.”
“Right, and me sayin’ my good-byes wouldn’t a changed a thing. I’d still be gone. Only difference is, you made that trip ’stead o’ me.”
“Well, I’m glad we got to see you before you left. That’s the way I like it. Will your place here be all right?”
“Oh, yeah. Walks Fast will stop by once in a while, usually when his women start to stick in his craw. But if ya happen to come by and see anything goin’ on, I’d ’preciate it if ya’d stop a minute and look.”
“We can do that.”
The four men sat and drank the first cup of coffee. Then they had another as their sun-deprived bodies soaked up the heat of the early afternoon, reluctant to let go of the good feeling of friends being friends.
CHAPTER 13
Tay had been gone a week when Simon rode to the Indian camp to see Walks Fast. For several months sleep had not come easily to Simon, and he sensed in the Indian a person he could trust to at least listen. He dismounted and waited the customary minute or two for someone inside the tepee to come out and greet him. Walks Fast’s wife soon appeared, and when she recognized Simon, she smiled, her short work-worn teeth exaggerating the width of her grin.
“Walks Fast gone. Taylor,” she said as she pointed north.
“Thank you, Missus Walks . . . Uh, thank you,” Simon stuttered over something that had never occurred to him: what is an Indian missus called?
He got back on his horse and set off at an easy canter toward the low hills.
Walks Fast sat on the split-log bench in front of the dugout as Simon rode up. “My woman told you I was here? Wondered if she would.”
“Only four words, but I understood what she meant.” Simon secured his horse to a post, then sat beside the old man.
“New horse maybe run off?”
“Yeah. He’s not as smart as the old one, or he’s smarter. I haven’t decided which.”
The two men went silent, and the pause lasted over five minutes as they studied the creek bottom and gazed at the rising slopes on the other side of the grassy valley.
“Your mind is full of clouds.”
Simon heard it as a statement and when he turned to face the Indian, he saw Walks Fast had his eyes closed.
“I get confused sometimes . . . about things I do.” The ease with which he’d voiced his admission surprised Simon.
“Your father worked hard to teach you, and your mother has you in her heart now. Many people think much of Simon and wonder why you left. Your family wants you to be safe.”
“I decide
d it was time to leave home and see something else.”
Walks Fast turned to look at him, his brow creased. “I’d say you ran away. I’d say you let dirt eaters make you feel the same as they do. One day, you will go back and see why you left.”
“I know why I left. People were laughing at me and didn’t respect me.”
“That is the reason you carry in your head. It is not same as reason you have in your heart.”
Simon stared at the lined face, now relaxed and tranquil. The slightest hint of a smile lay on the edge of the Indian’s mouth. “Why do you say that?”
“Confusion comes when the head and heart won’t agree. Your heart can only ask, your head will tell your feet what to do.”
“But I tried to do what was right. I did what my parents taught me. And it didn’t come out like they said it would.”
“So you blame your parents?” The Indian now held Simon in a fixed gaze, eyes clear and intent.
“No, they’re good people. But others, even some I trusted, wouldn’t see I was right.”
“So you blame others?” Walks Fast pressed.
“Sure I do. I was accused of stealing. I would never st—I didn’t steal. But the sheriff believed I did, and so did the town.”
“Your heart knows, but your legs carried you away. You need a stronger heart.” Sadness crept into the Indian’s eyes.
“But even if I know I’m right, and I stay where people don’t want me, what then?” Frustration jammed Simon’s words together. “A person can only take so much.”
A slow smile spread over Walks Fast’s face, erasing the troubled look. The Indian’s eyes seemed to shift out of focus, and then closed for a few seconds. “When one strong heart is not enough, you must have two. I know you once shared your heart with another person. Walks Fast knows it is the same today.”
Simon’s heart sped up and a flush of apprehension prickled his skin. Unable to meet the Indian’s eyes, he studied the ground between his feet.
“That is good place to look for an answer,” Walks Fast said as Simon’s discomfort grew. “The answer you get from there will be good one. The Earth does not have a reason to hide the truth.”
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