Friends and Enemies

by Stephen A. Bly

  “Deliver them?”

  “The railroad has misplaced our luggage for weeks. Surely, you will deliver them, won’t you?”

  “Mrs. Fortune, I’m here by myself this morning. I can’t bring them up until late this afternoon. Perhaps Mr. Fortune could bring them home.”

  “Is he in his office at the depot?”

  “No, that’s why I’m calling you. He said something about surveying a new telephone line. Anyway, I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

  The back door flung open. Little Frank sprinted in. “How much do you think a kitchen window costs?” he blurted out.

  Still holding the telephone receiver, she shouted, “Oh, no, what did you do now?”

  “What?” Mr. Landusky choked. “I assure you I didn’t do anything that would …”

  “Just a minute, Mr. Landusky …” She turned to her son. “Little Frank, wait until I … watch out for the—”

  Little Frank’s boot heel stepped squarely on one of the peaches. His leg gave way. With a yelp, he flung his arm toward the iron stove to break his fall. He cracked his hand into the stove and knocked over a pot of simmering water that contained one small, whole chicken.

  “Little Frank!” Jamie Sue dropped the phone receiver and lunged toward her son, who dove away from the steaming water and into the far wall.

  Little Frank screamed in pain as his hand hit the wall. He clutched his right hand as Jamie Sue’s second step landed squarely on the second peach. She threw her hands out in front of her to catch her fall, yet landed flat on her nose in the chicken water that had cooled somewhat as it puddled on the floor.

  Little Frank continued to scream in pain. Jamie Sue rolled to her back but couldn’t get a breath. Her hair matted in the chicken water. She tried to sit up but still couldn’t breathe. Wiping the chicken water off her face, she noticed her fingers covered with blood.

  Gasping for breath, she struggled to her knees just as the twins scampered down the stairs and peered into the kitchen. One glance at their mother and brother and both girls burst out sobbing.

  “Girls!” Jamie Sue gasped. “Girls … I need your help!”

  “What caused this?” Veronica hollered.

  “It’s the peaches!” Jamie Sue blurted out.

  “Mother! My finger!” Little Frank cried “… what about my finger! Look at it! Look at it!”

  On hands and knees, she glanced at her son. He gripped his right index finger that was bent almost straight back to his wrist.

  Oh, Lord … oh … no …

  She crawled over to her son.

  “You have blood all over your face!” he wailed.

  “It’s just a bloody nose. Let me see your finger.”

  “Don’t touch it … don’t touch it …” he screamed.

  With sticky, bloody hands she grabbed his hand, then yanked the finger back down straight. Little Frank’s scream rebounded off the kitchen wall, then he slumped over in a faint.

  “Grab me a towel. Veronica, hurry! Patricia, you get the smelling salts and …” Still on her hands and knees, Jamie Sue turned around to look at her daughters.

  Both the girls stared with blank expressions and sheet-white faces.

  They are going to collapse… . They are both going to swoon!

  “Sit down, girls! Sit down right now and put your head between your knees,” she shouted.

  Both girls slumped to the floor.

  Then, as if following an offstage cue, they toppled together backwards in a faint.

  Jamie Sue crawled over to the small kitchen table. She pulled the clean white linen tablecloth to the floor. She tried to wipe off her sticky hands and bloody face. With a corner of the tablecloth pressed up against her nose, she crawled back over to Little Frank. Sitting on the floor in the chicken water with her back against the wall, she placed his head in her lap and stroked his cheeks.

  Tears streamed across her face. Sniffing the best she could, she took the cloth away from her face and wrapped a clean corner around Little Frank’s right hand. She pinned his injured index finger to the others. Then she rocked his head back and forth in her lap.

  She stared up in disbelief as the telephone rang.

  How can it ring? I didn’t even finish talking to Mr. Landusky. Did I? They can’t ring, if I don’t hang up. Can they?

  “Stop it!” she yelled. “I can’t answer you! Stop it right now!” Jamie Sue tried to take deep breaths.

  Lord, I can’t handle this much … I really can’t …

  On the third ring, Veronica and Patricia propped themselves up on their elbows, looked over at her and Little Frank, then began to sob again.

  Keeping Little Frank’s head in her lap, Jamie Sue reached over and plucked up the small chicken off the floor. The ringing now blared as loud as a lighthouse bell. She hardly heard the back door open as she hurled the chicken at the ringing telephone and shouted, “I hate you!”

  A stunned Robert Fortune appeared at the doorway. “What are you doing?” he blurted out as he yanked his revolver from his holster and surveyed the room.

  “I am trying,” she shouted through the tears, blood, and chicken water, “to bake a peach pie for your father!”

  Then, like driftwood unable to resist the ocean wave’s undertow, she slumped against the wall and began to sob.

  Jamie Sue descended the staircase wearing her fancy new green dress and a flannel towel wrapped around her hair. Little Frank was propped up in a chair holding his neatly linen-wrapped hand. The twins were slicing peaches at the porcelain sink. Robert was mopping the floor.

  “Are you alright, Mama?” Little Frank asked.

  She bent over, kissed his forehead, then rubbed his shoulders. “I’m fine, honey. I just had the wind knocked out of me and got a bloody nose. You’re the one that’s injured.”

  Little Frank rubbed his nose with his good hand. “That really, really hurt when you straightened my finger, Mama.”

  “I know, darling, I know …” She stroked his matted hair.

  “I tried not to cry. I didn’t want to cry.”

  She stood next to his chair and cradled his curly, light brown head against her stomach. “That’s alright, honey … it’s alright.”

  “But boys aren’t suppose to cry!” he murmured.

  “That’s a dumb rule,” Veronica said.

  “Everyone has the right to laugh, so everyone should have the right to cry,” Patricia said.

  “Your sisters are right,” Robert encouraged. “The Bible says there’s a time to laugh and a time to cry … and this was your turn.”

  “But I’m embarrassed.”

  “You’re embarrassed?” Jamie Sue added. “How about me? I was the one who dropped the peaches, answered the phone with sticky fingers, tripped and fell flat on my nose … and …”

  “And threw the chicken at the telephone!” Veronica added.

  Jamie Sue strolled over to the girls and looked over their shoulders. “If I had a shotgun, I would have blasted it off the wall.”

  “You can’t imagine what went through my mind when I came in the back door and saw you all on the floor and the blood …” Robert shook his head. “I thought … well …” He turned his head away.

  Veronica glanced across the room. “Is it your turn to cry, Daddy?”

  He turned back with a deep sigh. “It was very close to my turn.”

  Jamie Sue gently rubbed her nose. “Even with my bruises, I can smell a cobbler. Did someone put one of those vicious peach pies in the oven?”

  “We did, Mama,” Patricia said.

  “Good, we can take the first one to Grandpa Brazos as soon as it cools.” Jamie Sue let her damp hair drape across her shoulders.

  Wiping her hands on her apron, Patricia stepped up beside her. “You look very pretty in that green dress, Mama.”

  Jamie Sue held out her hands and looked at the starched white lace cuffs. “It’s my only clean dress. It will be such a delight to get our belongings at last. Are you going to telephone Mr
. Landusky?”

  “I already have,” Robert replied. “With a quite sticky telephone, I might add.”

  “It’s lucky to be alive. When will he deliver our trunks?”

  “He couldn’t get away until after lunch. So I telephoned the express company. They’ll have it all delivered before noon,” Robert reported.

  Jamie Sue threw her arms around his neck and kissed his lips.

  “Mother!” Veronica scolded.

  Jamie Sue pulled back. “I never thought I’d be so excited to see a bunch of old clothes and used furnishings.”

  “This will be the first time ’Nica and I have to put all our clothes in two different closets,” Patricia reported.

  “Yes, won’t that be fun?” Jamie Sue continued to dry her hair on the flannel towel.

  “Maybe I could go visit Quint before the trunks get here,” Little Frank suggested. “I don’t want to listen to ’Nica and Tricia fuss and fume.”

  “What about your finger?” Jamie Sue asked. “We need you here when the doctor comes by.”

  “Dr. Preston said he would stop by here after he checks on Quiet Jim. So maybe Little Frank could save the doc an extra stop and see him over there,” Robert offered.

  “Well, you have to change your shirt and comb your hair.”

  “I can’t comb my hair left-handed,” Little Frank complained.

  “I’ll comb it for you,” Veronica offered.

  “Really?”

  “Yes!” Patricia added. “We comb each other’s hair all the time!”

  The twins scurried after Little Frank as he trotted back to his room.

  Jamie Sue strolled over to Robert. “Thanks for cleaning up the kitchen while I cleaned up.”

  “The girls did most of the work.”

  “Do you know what’s scary about all this?”

  “Peaches?” he said.

  “No, it’s frightening to think that I went from a perfectly sane woman to the brink of stark raving mad in only a matter of a few minutes.” Jamie Sue laced her fingers into his. “Am I always that close to complete collapse?”

  “Maybe we all are.”

  “Even Captain Robert Fortune?” She led him over toward the doorway to the living room.

  “When I saw all of you on the floor and the blood on your face, I was as close to losing all control as I ever want to be.” He tugged her tight against him. “You know what brought me around?”

  “What?”

  Robert could smell lilac water on Jamie Sue’s damp hair. “You throwing the chicken.”

  She rolled her blue eyes and sighed. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life.”

  “Perhaps … but it was obvious you were mad at the telephone … and mad at the chicken … and I knew …”

  “And mad at myself …” she prodded.

  “That’s when I knew it had been an accident.”

  “I suppose your whole family will find out about this.”

  He kissed her cheeks. “I won’t tell.”

  “I know, but I couldn’t ask the children to be silent.”

  “It’s completely understandable to me. Don’t worry about what anyone else thinks.”

  Jamie Sue stepped over to the living room window and stared out at the steep slope of Lincoln Street. “You know what I was wishing while I was in the tub?”

  Robert scooted up behind her. “That you were living at the fort, and you had Maria in the kitchen making pies?”

  She leaned her head back against his chest. “You read my mind.”

  His arms circled her waist. “You’re always reading mine.”

  She giggled. “That’s because you have such limited thought patterns, Captain Fortune.”

  Jamie Sue could feel his shoulders stiffen.

  “And what am I thinking right now?”

  She spun around and they stood toe-to-toe. “You’re thinking that you’re late to pick up that Mr. Chambers and meet Sammy.”

  “OK … you win.”

  She reached up and straightened his tie. “Go on. We’ll take care of things here.”

  “I told the express company to carry everything right into the living room. I don’t want you toting around those big trunks. If the girls want to carry things upstairs individually, that’s fine. But I’ll move the trunks and crates this afternoon when I get home.” Robert picked up his hat from the entry table. He kissed her cheek. “The girls are right. You do look much better.”

  With damp hair stringing down her back, and white lace collar buttoned high under her neck, Jamie Sue batted her eyes. “How much better, Captain Fortune?”

  Robert plopped his felt hat on her wet hair. “That does it, Mrs. Fortune. I’m not going anywhere. Come on …” He grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the stairway.

  “At ease, Captain …” she laughed.

  “Were you just teasing me, ma’am?”

  “Not teasing. I was testing,” she insisted.

  “Did I pass?”

  “With flying colors, soldier.”

  “Now, may I be dismissed?”

  She patted his hand. “Temporarily.”

  “Are you sure everything’s alright here with the children? It’s alright for me to leave?”

  “Everything is absolutely back to normal.”

  “Mother!” Little Frank hollered from the back room above a chorus of giggles. “Make them comb my hair right!”

  Robert glanced down at Jamie Sue. “Go on, Captain Fortune. This is normal. Shall I expect you home for supper?”

  He brushed the palm of his hand against her cheek. “Definitely.”

  The road from Central City to Garden City was defined by two well-worn ruts, with water still standing in some places, although there had been no rain in over a week. The light carriage dropped in the ruts, spraying water like a muddy pinwheel on the Fourth of July. Each rock and stick tested the strength of the springs and the resolve of the passengers.

  “My word,” Chambers huffed. He jammed down his top hat. “I expected more of a road than this.” The cleft in his narrow chin was held straight out, as if plowing a path for the words that followed.

  Robert Fortune held the dual leather lead lines twined between his gloveless fingers. He sat military straight. His wide-brimmed hat was cocked slightly left. “Some say this is the good part of the road.”

  “I don’t understand why the mining company doesn’t have an office in Deadwood. I need to examine the books, not the mine site.” A few droplets of mud peppered the back of Chambers’s silk top hat.

  “Anyone can rent a building and claim to have a mine,” Robert replied. “Most legitimate claims don’t rent an office until they have to. I trust your bosses want to see a gold mine, not books about a gold mine. You would have to come out here anyway.”

  “Yes, I suppose so.” Chambers pulled off his hat and rubbed the corner of his eyes. “Where did your brother go? I can’t see him at all.”

  Robert gazed up over the pine trees. Thick white clouds drifted across the deep Dakota blue sky. “Sammy needs to explore the best route for a telephone line. That’s why he rode his horse. If they can secure a right-of-way, they’d rather have a straight line than a curving one.”

  Chambers replaced his top hat and held onto the iron side rail of the carriage seat as the two-horse rig bounced over rocks and ruts. He waved his arm to the north. “I say, there are more buildings than I expected. It’s like a village.”

  “It is a village, Mr. Chambers. It’s called Garden City, but I don’t have any idea why. The Broken Boulder is supposed to be over there.” Robert pointed to the east.

  Chambers tried brushing the mud drops off his suit sleeves but only smeared them. “There’s nothing to the east, save for trees.”

  “And rocks … and sooner or later a cliff that drops straight down to Spruce Canyon.” The road widened and smoothed out. Fortune brought the team to a trot.

  Chambers leaned forward. “Is that your brother up there waiting for
us? How did he skulk ahead without our seeing him?”

  “Sammy’s good at skulking.”

  Sam Fortune sat in the saddle on his buckskin horse near the hitching rail in front of a rough-cut-pine cabin with a hand-printed sign that read “The Ittldew Cafe.”

  “You get run out of Garden City yet, Sammy?” Robert teased.

  “Shoot, no … I told ’em I was Captain Robert Fortune and they gave me a twenty-one-gun salute. At least I think it was a salute.”

  “Has anyone here heard of the Broken Boulder?” Robert quizzed.

  “Yeah, but no one has ever seen it. It’s secretive out there. They don’t exactly like visitors. All I was told is ride east until someone shoots at you, and you’re getting close.” Samuel chewed a light green stem of wild grass.

  “This is absurd,” Chambers fumed as he spun his top hat around in his hand. “I traveled all the way from Toronto, and I can’t even get to the mine, let alone the books?”

  “We’ll get you there, Mr. Chambers,” Samuel insisted. “They asked me for a bid on the telephone line, so I know they are expecting me.”

  “Is the road east on the other side of that rock field?” Chambers asked.

  “The road is that rock field,” Sam Fortune replied.

  “I reckon we’ll have some dinner here. There is nothing beyond this cafe.” Robert jumped down and brushed the brown horses with the palm of his hand.

  Chambers carefully climbed down and straightened his tie. Then he stared at the bullet-hole-riddled sign above the restaurant. “This place looks rather primitive. How’s the fare?”

  “I hear it lives up to its name,” Samuel grinned as he tied his horse off to the rail, then led the trio into the Ittldew.

  The brass door handle banged into the wainscoting just below the light green burlap wallpaper as the girls sprinted into the house with a duet shout of “Mama!”

  Jamie Sue wiped her hands on her flowered apron and glanced out from the kitchen. “Is the freight wagon here?”

  Patricia chewed her lower lip. “No, it’s Amber.”

  Veronica bounced on her toes. “She has a carriage and wants to know if we want to go for a ride.”

  Jamie Sue hung her apron on a peg, then sauntered to the front door. She waved at Amber, who wore a wide-brimmed floppy straw hat and a dress with sleeves that only went a few inches past her elbows. “Where is she going?” she asked the twins.