Love Finds You in Deadwood, South Dakota

by Tracey Cross

  “Think nothing of it.” Jane’s voice soothed him. “Let me help.” She covered his hand with hers and steadied the cup as it reached his mouth. The hot liquid slid down his throat. “That’s it. Just a little more.”

  Her sweet voice was the last thing Franklin heard before his head hit the table.

  Jane tugged at the stubborn oxen, walking beside them and praying they would cooperate. She had only been on the trail for three hours, but already her muscles ached as though she’d put in a week of work without a break for sleep or food. Tears quickly approached the surface of her resolve, but she knew her boy was watching, so weakness was not an option.

  “Danny, sing a song for your ma.”

  Danny had wandered just a little ways from the wagon, with Cheyenne following happily. Jane would have felt much better if Danny had stayed in the back of the wagon, where she could keep a better eye on him, but he was a strong, energetic boy, and Jane knew she couldn’t keep him confined. It wouldn’t be fair. After all, he hadn’t asked for his father to be a poor manager of their home and his business.

  Danny started singing a silly, made-up song about the oxen and how silly Ma looked, trying to get them to move. Jane smiled but found her mind wandering. And then the guilt poured in. Only desperation had driven her to put laudanum in Mr. Lloyd’s coffee this morning. Thank goodness he hadn’t insisted she have a cup with him after she’d refused the first suggestion.

  Mama Rose had given her the bottle of medicine when she’d agreed to become Tom’s bride. He had arrived at Mama’s home for orphans, looking for a young woman of marriageable age who might want to go west with him. Mama had shown him the door, but Jane had run after him.

  Heat burned her face at the memory of his critical perusal of her large frame and too-big blue eyes. “I reckon you’ll do,” he’d said.

  Within a day they were married, and Jane knew the regret only a woman who married a stranger in haste could know, and the bruises attested to her disappointment.

  “Take this,” Mama Rose had said, slipping a bottle of laudanum into her hand. “Use it to keep him off you. If it gets to be too much, use the whole bottle, and he’ll never bother you again.”

  She had never been able to bring herself to use the medicine on Tom, although she’d been sorely tempted more than once.

  The freighting business had been a mercy and, Jane believed with all of her heart, an answered prayer. She would have been forced to leave him for her son’s protection if he hadn’t been gone so much.

  Fort Sidney was just ahead, thank goodness. If one could call it a fort. It was more of a town, with soldiers guarding the citizens and the railroad. It was crudely known as “wide open,” with bawdy houses and saloons and shows twenty-four hours a day.

  “Look at the soldiers, Ma!”

  A tall soldier with muscles straining his blue shirt turned at Danny’s cry. His face held the hardness of someone who has seen his share of struggle. Still, his expression softened when he saw Jane and the animals. He motioned for another soldier.

  The young man came immediately. “Yes, Sergeant?”

  “Help the lady and get these oxen to the corral.”

  “Yes, sir.” The young soldier climbed up, grabbed the bull-whip, which Jane had been too timid to even attempt to use, and effectively moved the animals forward.

  Jane held tightly to Danny’s hand and followed the wagon on foot. She nodded to the sergeant. “Thank you.”

  His hand touched his cap. “My pleasure, ma’am. If you don’t mind my asking, what brings you alone to Fort Sidney?”

  Before she could speak up, Danny piped up. “She ain’t alone. I’m with her. Can I see your sword?” Cheyenne pressed in closer to Danny as the fearless little boy stepped closer to the soldier.

  “Daniel Thomas Albright!” Mortified, Jane’s face burned with embarrassment at the lad’s lack of manners.

  “It’s okay, ma’am. The lad’s right. You’re not alone.” The soldier chuckled and pulled his saber from the sheath. “Lookee here, son.” He held it balanced on his palm and crouched down eye level with Danny.

  Danny walked forward slowly, keeping his eyes on the saber as though hypnotized by the thing.

  “Don’t touch it, Danny.”

  “Aw, Ma.”

  “Better listen to your ma. One touch could slice off one of those little fingers.”

  Danny slipped his hands quickly behind his back. “You ever stuck that in an Indian?”

  “That’s enough, Danny. We need to let the sergeant get back to his post.”

  The soldier winked boldly at her and chuckled again. “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am. And Danny.” His eyes sought hers. “We don’t get too many ladies at the fort. If you need anything, ask for Sergeant Roland. And be careful with that dog. If he gets into mischief, he’ll be shot.”

  “Thank you for your kindness.” She smiled at the barrel-chested soldier and followed after the freight wagon. The fort teemed with life. Soldiers, straight-backed and respectful, tipped their hats as she passed by, though she could see curiosity in their eyes. As the sergeant had said, they weren’t used to seeing women who weren’t for sale. Her face warmed, and she did her best to keep her gaze averted from anyone who might seek to cause trouble.

  The wagon stopped before a livery stable next to a corral. Her heart sank as she read the rough-hewn sign hanging on the stable door.

  ANIMAL BOARDING:

  2.00 PER DAY

  WAGONS 1.00

  Jane patted the waistband of her skirt. She had exactly fifty dollars to her name—her savings from doing seamstress work before her marriage to Tom. She would have given him the money. Had planned to present it to him on their wedding night as a wedding gift. But after the brutality of that night, she had decided to keep it hidden in case she needed to escape.

  A sweaty, potbellied man stepped out of the livery stable and spoke to the soldier, then motioned to the corral.

  “Excuse me, Private,” she called out as the soldier began to unhitch the oxen from the wagon. “Please keep the oxen hitched to the wagon.”

  The liveryman turned and scowled. “You can’t leave ’em hitched up all night.” He looked her up and down, then had the grace to remove his hat, revealing a thinning, greasy cap of gray. “Name’s Wilder. I own the livery. I don’t allow animals to stay hitched all night. It ain’t right. No disrespect intended.”

  At least he tried his hand at manners. Jane smiled. “None taken, Mr. Wilder. It’s just that I am unable to meet your price for boarding.”

  The soldier started. “Ma’am, by the time you load up, it’ll be getting on to dusk.”

  He was right, of course. But what else could she do? She had no intention of wasting three precious dollars. The livery-man averted his gaze and spat a stream of tobacco juice on the ground. Jane’s stomach threatened to rebel. “I understand. I suppose I’ll have to take my chances and camp outside the fort.”

  The soldier reached up and swiped at the sweat on his brow. “Yes, ma’am. But that’s just it. They won’t let anyone out after dusk. Renegade Indians. A woman like you with a youngster…”

  The meaning of his omitted words was all too clear.

  She glanced back at the liveryman, eyeing his ragged clothing and his approximate measurements. He looked about Tom’s size. “I can’t help but notice your shirt is ripped and stained, and your trousers are worn through in—places.” Only these dire circumstances could have induced her to set aside propriety and admit such a rude observation, so she hurried on. “My husband passed away a short while ago. I brought his clothes with me to sell in Deadwood. I’d like to propose a trade.”

  “Why would I want a dead man’s clothes?”

  “Because I made them.” She smiled. “Before my marriage I was a seamstress by trade. I had more orders than I could fill. After my marriage I used those skills to keep my husband in sturdy clothes. You look to be about his size. I will trade you two shirts and one pair of trousers to board my
oxen and wagon for the night.”

  The liveryman scratched at the stubble along his jaw. “I never thought much about my clothes, but I reckon these are wearin’ out.”

  “We have a deal, then?”

  He turned his head and spat again, then wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. He gave a curt nod. “Sounds like a fair trade.”

  It took all of her willpower not to show her relief. “Thank you.” She looked from the liveryman to the soldier. “Now, may I ask either of you gentleman where I may find a fair-minded freighter who will hire me to drive my wagon to Deadwood?”

  Mr. Wilder pointed. “McMillan’s Freighting is looking for a new hauler. He lost two wagons to the Barry gang last week.” The liveryman narrowed his gaze. “You intending to haul freight on your own?”

  Jane’s back straightened as though it had a mind of its own. She would not be dissuaded just because she had no idea what she was doing and had never handled a bullwhip in her life. Those were things she could learn. She’d never failed to do something well once she set her mind to learning it. “Yes, Mr. Wilder, I do intend to haul freight to Deadwood. And no, I’m not alone. I have my boy here.”

  “I’m strong, ain’t I, Ma?”

  “You certainly are, Danny. About as strong as any man.”

  His chest puffed, and Jane felt a twinge of guilt at the lie, but she had to save face and appear strong, or someone would try to take advantage of her.

  Mr. Wilder must have gotten the hint, because he merely nodded. “I wish you all the luck in the world.”

  Jane knew luck would have nothing to do with it. If there was even a small chance that this was going to work, it would be nothing less than divine intervention.

  Chapter Four

  It was his own fault. He had let down his guard, trusted a female, and gotten himself drugged. At least that’s what he assumed had happened. Franklin kicked at the ground with the toe of his boot. He had no one to blame but himself.

  The wagon tracks led in the direction of Fort Sidney. Foolish woman. What was she up to? His heart raced at the very memory of her suggesting she might move to the Fort and take in laundry. But she had to know better! She had to know what those women truly were. At least at most forts and that one in particular.

  Despite the fact she had drugged him and left him sleeping while she stole his oxen and wagon, he knew she was desperate, and his heart beat with concern for her. He wasn’t used to this confusing mix of emotions. Anger and worry rolled together into one massive knot in his stomach, and he wasn’t altogether sure what he would do when he saw her. He was leaning toward throttling her.

  To make matters worse, a clap of thunder opened the sky, and rain began to pour over the earth. It ran down his neck, soaked his clothing, and dripped from his chin and nose. Wiping it away did no good; neither did searching the horizon for shelter. Tryst, the four-year-old brown gelding, protested and picked up the pace.

  Franklin understood the animal’s desire to hurry. After all, the faster they went, the sooner they’d reach their destination. But the ground was beginning to turn to mud, and it would take only an instant for Tryst to slip and go down. Franklin couldn’t take the chance of losing his horse, so he reined in the spirited animal.

  By the time he reached the outskirts of Fort Sidney, he was soaked through and in a foul mood. A group of soldiers camped a few yards outside town. A burly sergeant nodded to him. “What’s your business in Fort Sidney?”

  “I’ve come after a woman.”

  The soldier’s eyes grew hard. “That so? Any woman in particular?”

  The suspicion in his voice and eyes annoyed Franklin. Did he look like the sort of man bent on hurting a woman?

  He gathered a calming breath. After all, it would do no good for him to be at odds with the first person of authority he came across. If provoked, this man could keep him out of town and in the pouring rain. “I am following a certain woman. You might have seen her. I tracked the wagon here to the fort. She had a little boy with her. About five years old. Smarter than most youngsters.”

  Recognition lit the sergeant’s eyes, but it was clear he wasn’t ready to divulge information. Franklin didn’t blame him. There was something about Jane that drew a man. Maybe her eyes, or her gentle face, with a hint of a dimple in each cheek, or her long, smooth neck…

  “What do you want with her?” The sergeant’s gruff voice broke through Franklin’s thoughts. Thankfully.

  “She took something of mine. I’m here to get it back.”

  An unpleasant puff of air left the sergeant’s lips. “Don’t reckon I believe that. She’s about the nicest gal I seen in two years. What’s your real reason for following her and that little boy?”

  “How about you mind your own business? If she’s inside the fort, I’ll find her myself and take care of things.”

  In a flash the sergeant had his pistol drawn, the nose pointed at Franklin’s heart.

  Franklin realized he had no choice but to prove he had the right to pursue Jane Albright. He reached inside his shirt.

  “Easy, now,” the sergeant warned, keeping the gun at a steady aim.

  “Just getting a document out of my pocket. It’ll prove Mrs. Albright owes me the property she has in her possession. Her husband took out a sizeable loan with me and failed to pay.”

  “Her man passed. That’s what she claimed.”

  “Yes, but he had already signed everything over to me.” He handed the document over to the sergeant.

  “What kind of gentleman takes from a woman with a boy to raise?” The sergeant’s condemnation was nearly palpable. It flew like an arrow and hit the mark.

  “I never claimed to be much of a gentleman,” Franklin shot back. “What I am is a businessman.” He opened his hand, and the sergeant slapped the paper into his palm.

  “Well, I can’t rightly keep you out of town. But I don’t think it’s right.”

  “And if I had any other option, I’d take it.”

  “You could marry her. She’s a comely woman. The lad’s a friendly sort. A man could do worse. She’ll likely have ten proposals before the day’s up.”

  Franklin’s face warmed at the suggestion. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t considered the possibility. After all, women like Jane were a rarity out here. But he couldn’t ask a woman to marry him before he was set up to give her a decent life. That was part of the reason he was so insistent on getting the homestead. The desire for a wife and children had been creeping up on him for some time. But lately, he dreamed about a family day and night.

  “Mrs. Albright has made it clear she’s not interested in entering into that sort of contract.”

  “So you asked her.”

  “No. But I didn’t have to.”

  “Well, what women say and what they mean ain’t always the same thing. She probably figured you didn’t want to marry her and beat you to it.”

  Franklin shook his head. Sitting atop his horse in the rain, which thankfully had lessened to a drizzle, and discussing what women were thinking was just about the last thing he could imagine that he wanted to do. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said to the sergeant. “Now, if I have your permission to go, I’d like to get my horse into a warm stall somewhere.”

  “All right. Go ahead.” He peered closer, his eyes stern. “But I don’t want no trouble. You don’t hurt that woman or her boy, or you’ll be answering to me and every soldier in Sidney. That clear?”

  What did he think Franklin was going to do? Of course, Franklin didn’t know what he was going to do himself, but in any case, he certainly wouldn’t harm Jane and Danny. The most he might do was turn her over his knee for drugging him. Then he would put her on a train back East and be done with his responsibility.

  The rain had made a mess of the street, and Jane’s skirts dragged in the muddy sludge, weighing her down and making her miserable in general. She had visited McMillan’s Freight, Andy’s Freight, Barker Boys’ Freight, and Jones and Sons. It seemed as tho
ugh just about everyone in town made a living either in the saloons, on the stage, or in freighting. The problem was, not one man was willing to give her a chance. She could haul freight as well as any man, but she needed someone who was willing to see past the skirts and the little boy and give her a chance to prove it.

  She walked into Solomon’s Freight and Goods, her emotions past tears and at the point of anger and determination. Her boots clicked on the wood floor, and her wet skirts swooshed so much she knew she made a pathetic figure rather than the confident woman she’d hoped to portray. She click-swooshed up to the counter. “I’d like to see the manager or the owner or whomever is in charge.”

  The young man glanced up and his eyebrows raised.

  “Well?” she said. “Don’t just sit there. I said, bring out the manager.”

  “Is there a problem, ma’am?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact there is. A huge problem.” She glared at the scrawny, bespectacled clerk and took out all of her frustrations on the first man she figured she could take in a fair fight. “I am in need of a run to Deadwood. I have a perfectly sturdy wagon, two reliable and equally sturdy oxen, and not one man in this incredibly filthy town will even speak to me, let alone allow me to haul.”

  A chuckle came from across the room, and Jane turned. A tall, lean man, wearing a jacket that would probably pay all of Jane’s debts and purchase enough feed for the animals and seed for the entire next planting season, was smiling at her.

  She scowled. “What do you find so funny, sir?”

  “Your assertion that not one man in town will speak to you.”

  “Well, it’s true.” She drew herself up with all the dignity a bedraggled, forlorn woman could have and glared. “And I defy you to prove me wrong.”

  “Please do not be offended. I only meant that a woman as beautiful as you was likely inundated with offers for dinner and very likely a few proposals of marriage, unless I grossly underestimate the wisdom of Sidney’s male population.”