Beneath a Dakota Cross

by Stephen A. Bly

  “I’ve seen cleaner dismounts.”

  “But I made it. Think I’ll lay a spell right here.”

  “Let me get you a canteen of fresh water,” Brazos said.

  “You don’t need to fuss over me. You ride on and warn ’em in town. I’ll ride in with Grass and the Jims. They should be along directly.”

  “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard of. No man leaves a partner wounded. You’d do the very same thing if the roles were reversed.”

  “Yep. But you’d gripe and complain with me ever’ inch of the way.”

  Brazos tied Big River’s horse to a twelve-foot pine. Within a few minutes he had fetched a canteen of creek water, retied Big River’s bandage and tourniquet, and retrieved his horse.

  Big River Frank, his foot propped up on a rock, and his head resting on the leather-cased canteen, kept his eyes closed. “Time to get back on the trail?” he asked.

  “If we give those horses five more minutes, we can sprint all the way to town. It’s the quickest to Deadwood and you know it.” Brazos stood up and surveyed the trail in both directions. He spotted no movement at all. Don’t know if Big River bought that, but he needs more rest or he won’t make it to town at all.

  “We park here much longer, Grass and the Jims will catch up with us,” Big River mumbled.

  “That wouldn’t hurt anything.”

  “Or maybe the Sioux will catch up.”

  Brazos let out a fairly flat, half-hearted laugh. “Now that could hurt a whole bunch.”

  A mule brayed. Big River Frank reared up on his elbow. Brazos snatched up his Sharps carbine.

  “Whose mule is that?” Big River quizzed.

  Brazos pointed to the northern ridge. “There he is. He looks lost. Probably the one that belonged to Juan Tejunga. Tiny figured the mule ran off when the gunfire began.”

  Big River closed one eye and squinted with the other. “You reckon we ought to try to loop him?”

  “I couldn’t care two bits for a lost mule. Let the Sioux have him.”

  Big River laid back down. “They don’t need any more animals. I think you better check it out.”

  Is this a way Big River can ask for a few more minutes rest? I got to get to town … but I can’t go any faster than Big River. “I reckon you ought to lay back down and rest a minute. I’ll go get the mule,” Brazos insisted. “There’s never been a mule I couldn’t rope by myself.”

  Big River Frank lay back down and pulled his hat over his eyes. “How about that one on the Trinity River?”

  “OK … that’s the only one.”

  “And that gray one down near Fort Phantom Hill?”

  “Be quiet, Big River. I don’t need a litany of my roping failures.”

  “Watch out for snakes,” Big River Frank mumbled.

  His carbine cocked back to safety and flopped over his shoulder, Brazos hiked up the hillside towards the stationary animal. Watch out for snakes … joshin’ about my ropin’. The tease is all a bluff. He’s too proud to admit that he can’t ride any further, and I’m stallin’, just so I won’t have to force his hand. Lord, I’ve got to get to town, and I can’t leave him here.

  This is bad.

  Real bad.

  The climb was jagged. His boots slipped with each step. This is too steep for a horse. Maybe a mule could make it, especially if he’s scared. Obviously one mule made it.

  Brazos studied the mule who peered back down at him from a wide, dirt shelf twenty feet higher. “What in the world are you doin’ up there?” he mumbled mostly to himself. Tiny said they kept the mules saddled in case they had to ride off in a hurry. “Did your saddle fall off?”

  Brazos carried his carbine in front of him as he slowly climbed the treeless stretch of the mountain. When he crested the plateau he could see the mule picketed near the rim of the mesa, a small fire circle of dead ashes a few feet behind it. Back near a cluster of small aspens a black horse was tethered.

  This is someone’s camp! What am I doin’ up here?

  The report of gunfire popped his ears. Granite splattered just right of his feet. He threw the carbine to his shoulder. Frantically, Brazos searched the rocks and trees for the assailant. There was nowhere to hide.

  “Throw down your gun!” a scratchy voice shouted from large boulders near the aspens.

  Finally, he spotted a rifle barrel but couldn’t see who was holding it. Brazos left the Sharps at his shoulder, aimed at the protruding rifle barrel. “I hate to lower it until I know who’s trying to kill me.”

  “Kill you? If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have shot at the rocks near your feet. Lay the Sharps down and step away from it.”

  “Afraid I can’t do that. Look, I’m sorry about bustin’ into your camp. I thought there was a stranded mule. There’s Indians ridin’ up the trail from the west, so I’ll just back on out of here.”

  “Fortune, I could kill you.”

  “Mister, you already explained that you didn’t want me dead. Do I know you?” Brazos called out.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about Doc Kabyo? Anyway, you ought to be worried about more than yourself.”

  “What are you talkin’ about, Kabyo?”

  “Lay the gun down.”

  Brazos tightened his finger against the smooth, cold trigger of the Sharps. “We’ve already gone around that bush. There is no way I’m lowerin’ this gun. So make your play.”

  “Oh, I think you’ll toss it down,” the deep voice shouted. A girl’s round straw hat with white lace ribbon sailed out from the cluster of stunted trees and landed halfway towards Brazos. “Does that look familiar?”

  Brazos’s gun dropped from his shoulder to his chest. A sharp pain hit both sides of his stomach at the same time. His shoulders sagged. “Where did you get that?” he yelled.

  “I yanked it off a cute young lady’s head. Put down the carbine!”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s safe, so far. Put down the carbine, and I’ll tell you an interesting story.”

  “You’re a dead man,” Brazos screamed.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy,” an unseen Dacee June sobbed. “I’m sorry! I should have stayed at home. I just wanted to help you. I’m always getting in trouble. Don’t let him shoot me!”

  “Kabyo!” Brazos screamed.

  “Drop it!”

  “Dacee June!”

  “She’s chewing on a bandanna right at the moment, but she’s not injured.”

  Brazos tossed the carbine to the dirt. He could feel his face and neck flaming like fire.

  “Turn around and sit down,” Kabyo instructed.

  “If you’re goin’ to kill me,” Brazos hollered, “you’ll have to look me in the eye to do it.”

  “If I was going to shoot you, you’d be dead. Turn around and sit down.”

  Brazos turned his back to the aspens. He faced the edge of the cliff, then squatted down on his haunches. He heard noises in the grove behind him, then scuffling on the rocks. Glancing back, he saw Doc Kabyo limp his way forward with a crude crutch under one arm and a short-barreled rifle in his right hand. Protruding from his right pant leg was a wooden peg.

  “Don’t turn around!”

  Brazos stared back out across the gulch to the mountain on the other side. From where he was squatting, he could not see Big River Frank or the horses tethered on the trail below.

  “You did this to me. You took my leg, Fortune.”

  “You got accidently shot by your own man,” Brazos retorted.

  “It was your fault.”

  “Let Dacee June go, then you can deal with me. She has no part in this.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. She has an important part.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s sixty thousand dollars that I’ve laid claim to, and you repeatedly keep getting in my way.”

  “Kabyo, you’re welcome to ride back into Spearfish Canyon and look for it. But I surmise your compadres are carrying Sioux bullets by now
. So I imagine you’ll be on your own.”

  “Fortune, some days turn out better than expected. Some worse. You’ll have to admit this has turned into a lousy day for you. But it’s ended up being a good one for me.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “I know where the sixty thousand is,” Kabyo hollered.

  “Where?”

  “Halfway up the cliff behind the Mexicans’ diggin’s. Dell tossed me down a coin right before the Sioux showed up. We were just tryin’ to figure how to get it down when the shootin’ started.”

  “And you hopped on Juan’s mule and ran away?”

  Rocks flew to Brazos’s right and shavings sprayed his arm like birdshot as Kabyo fired a bullet next to him. “I don’t hop on any animal, thanks to you. I’m lucky to mount up at all. We were all tryin’ to escape. It just so happens I made it, and they didn’t.”

  “Did your escape include shootin’ Tiny Martinez in the back?”

  “He went for his gun. He was too slow.”

  “Undoubtedly carrying a dead friend over his shoulder slowed him down.”

  “The point is, one minute I’m tryin’ to outdistance half the Sioux nation, and the next minute up rides a young girl all alone. I’ll admit she wasn’t too glad to see me, but I was certainly glad to see her.” It was a sickening laugh. “I made her nightmares come true. You ought to teach your kid to stay at home, Fortune.”

  “So help me, Kabyo …”

  A bullet ricocheted off the rocks to his left. Brazos shut up.

  “I figured to just wait up here until sooner or later you came out from town lookin’ for her. But she said you were already out this way. I thought it could take some time, but, what a pleasant surprise, here you are.”

  “What do you want from me, Kabyo?”

  “Sixty thousand dollars.”

  “What?”

  “Actually, I only want $59,980. I’ve got the one gold eagle. I want you to ride back into Spearfish Canyon, climb that cliff, and bring that money to me.”

  “I won’t be of much help when the Sioux kill me.”

  “Oh, you’re very resourceful. I think you can pull it off. Besides, your daughter told me a whole posse rode out with you. It’s a simple trade. You bring me the money. I let your girl go unharmed.”

  “Why should I trust you?”

  “Because you don’t have any other choice.”

  “How much time do I have?”

  “Oh, you take all the time you need. Your daughter is bound and gagged. I promise you I won’t lay a hand on her or go near her until you return. I won’t touch her, I won’t feed her, and I won’t give her any water. Now you can see how quickly you need to work.”

  Even if she’s in the shade, that’s not more than a couple of days.

  “I’m not leavin’ her here,” Brazos said.

  “Sure you are. You’re no different than me, Fortune. You left several men back in the canyon to do your fightin’. And I saw you leave a dyin’ man down there by the river, just for the money you’d make sellin’ this mule. And you’d leave your daughter to go find those gold coins. My only concern is whether you’ll even come back for her.”

  “I ain’t exactly dead yet!” The deep voice of Big River Frank caused Brazos to spin around. Kabyo, only ten feet in front of him, kept his short rifle pointed at Fortune. Downhill to the left, Big River Frank leaned against a boulder about the size of a grizzly bear.

  “You pull that trigger, cowboy, and this little Fortune girl loses her daddy,” Kabyo screamed.

  Brazos glanced over at his own carbine lying on the rock soil about eight feet to his right. “Shoot him, Big River …”

  “You’re a dead man, Fortune,” Kabyo screamed.

  Brazos perched on his toes, ready to leap for the Sharps. Big River suddenly took a couple steps towards Kabyo, then crumpled to his knees.

  The outlaw spun around and fired at Big River Frank. At the same instance, Big River shot back.

  Brazos dove for the Sharps.

  Both the other men dropped to the dirt.

  Fortune waited for Doc Kabyo to move.

  He didn’t.

  Then Brazos sprinted toward Big River Frank. “Dacee June, I’m OK. I’ll be right there, darlin’!” He slowly turned Big River over. The .44-caliber bullet had hit him high in the right shoulder. Brazos jammed his hand against the blood flow that pumped out across Big River’s shirt.

  “Partner, you stepped forward and took that bullet on purpose.”

  Big River Frank didn’t open his eyes. “Don’t reckon I got enough blood for two wounds, do I?”

  Tears flowed down Brazos’s cheeks. He tried to rub them but only smeared bloody hands across his own face. “How’d you make it up this mountain?”

  “By the grace of Jesus, Brazos. It ain’t so steep back there against the mountain. I heard that first shot and figured you couldn’t get along without me.”

  “You’re right. I can’t. So hang on, Big River. I’ll get you to town. It ain’t endin’ like this. No, sir. We still got too many good times to celebrate.”

  “I reckon we do,” Big River mumbled. “But that will have to wait until we’re together on the streets of glory! Did I kill him?”

  “He’s dead.”

  “How’s my Dacee June?”

  “I haven’t checked on her yet.”

  “Go on.”

  “I can’t leave you.”

  “Please … Brazos … I’ve got to know she’s OK! It’s important to me.”

  “Big River, you promise you won’t go dyin’ on me?”

  “I’ll be here.”

  Brazos stood up and brushed his bloody hands on his jeans, then stared down at Big River Frank.

  “Don’t let her see me like this,” Big River groaned.

  “That bullet was meant for me, partner, and you know it.”

  “Henry Fortune, I ain’t never did much in my entire life that has any lastin’ value. You know that. Well, I jist kept a little girl from becomin’ an orphan … and an old man from losin’ the light of his life. I figure that makes my life a success, don’t you?”

  Brazos tried to suck air and keep from sobbing. He watched Big River’s chest stop heaving.

  A night shower had settled the dust on Deadwood’s Main Street and left the air clean.

  “Did I tell you I’ve decided to name my first son Franklin?” Dacee June covered her eyes with the black ribbon that circled her straw hat.

  “I don’t believe you mentioned that.” Brazos tugged at his bow tie as he paced the boardwalk in front of the Grand Hotel. “Have you got the husband picked out yet?”

  “Daddy!” Dacee June rolled her eyes and sighed. “I meant when I’m old … you know, around twenty.”

  Brazos flopped down on the bench next to her. “Well, darlin’, Franklin is a mighty fine name. I never had a better friend, nor known a braver man, than Big River Frank. And I probably never will again.” He could feel the tears swell in his eyes.

  Dacee June brushed down her skirt and folded her hands in her lap. “It was a nice service, wasn’t it?”

  “Yep. Preacher Smith does a good job of presentin’ the gospel. Big River would be proud of that roomful of people.”

  She waved her hand up the street. “Look, here they come!”

  A rough, unpainted wagon draped in black bunting rolled up the street. Quiet Jim was driving. Yapper Jim sat next to him. Behind the wagon, Grass Edwards rode his horse and led Coco and Big River’s black gelding.

  “I don’t know why you can’t bury him in Ingleside,” Dacee June quizzed. “Everyone could go over there.”

  “That graveyard is beyond the barricades. It could be dangerous out there.”

  “We haven’t had a bit of Indian trouble since you all came back from Spearfish Canyon.”

  “Besides, we wanted somethin’ special for Big River,” Brazos tried to explain. “The graveyard at Ingleside can’t be seen from Main Street.”

  “But it�
�s a difficult hike up to White Rocks, let alone to tote a coffin.”

  “We’ll pack him as far as we can. We surely won’t go clean to the top … it’s nothin’ but rock up there.”

  “I think I’ll stay down here with Todd. Carty Toluca said he saw a bobcat near White Rocks yesterday.”

  Brazos hugged her shoulders. “I told you that you could go if you wanted to.”

  “Jamie Sue is supposed to come in on the stage. Do you think the stage will get through?”

  “They said the army would escort one in from Cheyenne City. But don’t be surprised if it’s runnin’ late. They’re takin’ it real cautious these days. I’ll be home as soon as we’re through.”

  Brazos met the wagon, and Dacee June followed behind. “You boys ready for this?”

  Grass Edwards handed Brazos the reins to Coco. “We’re goin’ to ruin our new suits climbin’ this mountain with a casket.”

  “I certainly hope so,” Yapper Jim blurted out.

  “How come you have Big River’s horse?” Dacee June asked.

  “An empty saddle. It shows we lost a partner.”

  “Are you really going to put that cross on his grave?”

  “Yep.”

  “Say good-bye to Big River for me, too,” she called. “He’s my hero.”

  “Ours, too, Dacee June,” Quiet Jim added.

  Brazos turned in the saddle and looked back at the young girl in the long, black dress and saw, instead, a young woman. “I will, darlin’.”

  “I love you, Daddy,” she shouted.

  “I love you, too, Dacee June!” Sarah Ruth, what am I going to do? I don’t know anything about raisin’ a teenage daughter. I reckon the boys will start hangin’ around the place. I suppose I could just shoot ’em all.

  Most of those in town had said their good-byes to Big River Frank at the service in the ballroom at the Grand Hotel. Many, though, came out to the slightly muddy street to watch the wagon and the horsemen ride by.

  “We lost Hook last summer and Big River this summer. At this rate we’ll all be gone in four more years,” Grass Edwards announced as he turned south at the fork up Whitewood Creek.

  “Boy, that Edwards is a cheery lot,” Yapper Jim complained. “If we listened to him, we might as well dig five graves right now up on this mountain.”

  “Might not be a bad idea,” Quiet Jim suggested. “I don’t mean actually dig the holes, but we might reserve the ground. I ain’t got no place I’d rather be buried … you know, when my time comes.”