“I feel like Michelangelo trying to discover the beauty in a hunk of rock,” Rebekah whispered back.
Jamie Sue watched Rebekah and Dacee June tug the Raxton sisters toward their baths. Lord, this feels good. The Fortune ladies … working together … helping others… . For fifteen years it has been just me. My goodness, if we can pull this off, we can do about anything!
With the pork chops and biscuits already cooked, Robert decided against building a fire. He hobbled the horses, then settled in with his back against the jagged trunk of a lightning dwarfed pine tree. Stillman Taite sat across from him, cross-legged.
“What do you think causes a man to go bad like Holter?” Taite asked.
Fortune gnawed on a pork chop bone and could feel shreds of sweet meat stick between his teeth. “We’re all born sinners, Taite. I suppose it’s no surprise that we do bad. The real question is why folks ever do good.”
“You sayin’ all of us are like Holter?”
“Seems to me very few of us are as bad as we could be.”
“I reckon a lot of folks is as good as they can be.”
Robert Fortune brushed some biscuit crumbs off his neatly trimmed dark beard. “Yes, but without the Lord, that’s a mighty low standard. God doesn’t want us as good as we can be. He wants us perfect.”
“Shoot, I never met a perfect man.” Then a smile broke across Taite’s face. “But I knew some women who were mighty close.”
Robert’s voice was low, as if talking to the dark itself. “All of us sin. That’s why we need a Savior.”
“Are you theologizin’ me?” Taite complained.
“Probably. I just got lulled into thinkin’ I could easily tell the good from the bad. I was surprised about Holter. I thought I had him judged different. He wasn’t the one I was worried about.”
“You thought I was the one that was goin’ to give you trouble. Right?” There was a chuckle in Taite’s voice. “I saw misgivin’ in your eyes that day you hired me.”
“I thought … well, to be honest … I didn’t expect trouble from you, but I didn’t know how you’d adapt to this job. I thought maybe you stretched your qualifications a bit.”
“How’s that?”
“When you mentioned working for Pappy Divide in Cheyenne.”
“That part’s the truth.”
“I know. I checked it out.”
“Did you telegraph Cheyenne?”
“No, Tap Andrews and his wife, Pepper, were at the hardware last week. My brother Todd mentioned your name to him.”
“What did he say about me?” Taite asked.
“Said he didn’t know you but he followed you, and everyone said you were a good deputy.”
“See, there … I was tellin’ the truth.” Taite picked his teeth with a dirty fingernail. “What time we leavin’ in the mornin’?”
“We’re leavin’ in about an hour.”
“We cain’t track at night.”
“Sure we can. The full moon’ll be up by then, and the trail is well marked. It doesn’t take much to follow three-studded iron-rim wheel tracks.”
“We got time for a little nap, don’t we?”
“Let’s rest the ponies an hour, then see what we can find.”
Taite stretched out on his back in the evening shadows with his hat pulled over his face, his head on his saddle.
Robert Fortune stared at the awakening night sky.
I’ll let Stillman sleep. I can’t. Just too many things on my mind, Lord. I thought life up here would be simple. Routine. Just family things. ’Course nothin’ in my family is ever routine.
A big prairie moon crept up in the east. One lone bright star hung above it. Robert leaned back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes.
Maybe I was wrong, Lord. I do like this job. It’s near the front line of right and wrong. It’s keeping men, women, families safe. Well … not all women and boys. I can’t believe they’re using their sons like this. What are they going to be like when they grow up? That’s wrong, Lord. Way wrong.
If there is goin’ to be violence on the train, … then someone needs to be here to stop it. The hold-up proves they need security. Maybe it validates my being hired.
But I have to catch every criminal. If I can’t catch them, then I’m not doin’ my job.
If I can’t catch the Holters, then maybe I’m the wrong one… . But if I do catch them, … then perhaps I am exactly the right one. Lord, I do want to be somewhere I can be in the battle of right against wrong.
Both horses were saddled and Stillman Taite stood near his feet when Robert opened his eyes again. His forehead and neck felt sweaty even though there was a slightly cool breeze. “Guess I needed a rest more than I thought,” he admitted.
Taite brushed back his mustache. “Worryin’ does that to a man, I reckon.”
“I wish we were tracking just a man, or a gang of men. Having a woman and children along is troubling.” Robert took the reins of his horse and checked the cinch.
Taite mounted up in the moonlight. “You mean, if Holter or his wife were to start shootin’ at us?”
“I don’t know if I want to shoot back or not.” Robert stuck his left foot in the stirrup, then grabbed the hard leather saddlehorn with his right.
“I’ve been thinkin’ the same thing.”
Fortune pulled himself up into the saddle. “You a praying man, Stillman?”
“When I git scared enough.”
Robert could feel the cold leather of the saddle in the places where his pants were ripped. “Well, let’s pray we can capture them without a shot fired.”
The wagon trail broke into a clearing. Even in the moonlight, Robert could see it stretch straight ahead of them for almost a mile. Then it seemed to lead up into some white rocks or cliffs.
Fortune and Taite rode their horses side by side at a slow walk as they traveled across the clearing. The moon was high enough now to project slight shadows from the horses and riders and reflect off the limestone cliffs.
Taite’s voice was low. “You reckon there are some of those caves you was talkin’ about up in the white rocks?”
“Seems like a natural site.”
“They could be up there right now watchin’ us come across this clearin’. They could take a shot at us before we even see them.”
Robert kept his eyes focused on the rocks ahead. “That might be. But if I were them, I wouldn’t give away my position until I knew for sure someone was trailing me.”
Stillman Taite scratched the back of his neck. “Mr. Fortune, you ever shoot buffalo at nine hundred yards?”
“Nope. I got meat for General Crook a few times with my trapdoor carbine, but I was a lot closer than nine hundred yards. How about you, Stillman?”
“I spent a month skinnin’ for old Rum McNair. He could drop them at nine hundred to a thousand yards, when he was sober.”
“Taite, where is this leading?”
“If Holter had a long-barreled Sharps in those caves, they could pick us off in this bright moonlight.”
“Are you always this optimistic, Taite?”
“Yep. Born that way, I reckon.”
They crossed the wide clearing and stopped their horses near a grove of pine seedlings no more than six feet tall.
“Which way now? These tracks are going to disappear in the shadows,” Taite commented.
Robert Fortune climbed down out of the saddle and squatted next to the wagon tracks. Lord, he’s right, this is crazy to go barging off into the darkness. I can barely see the tracks now.
A faint cry caused Robert to stand straight up.
“Did you hear that?” he whispered.
“A coyote … or what?”
“No, it was a child cryin’ ‘Daddy.’”
Taite pulled off his hat and brushed the hair back off his ears. “You’re hearin’ things.”
“You don’t have any kids, do you?”
“Nope.”
“Then you might not hear it. It was a chil
d’s voice,” Robert declared. “Let’s tie off the horses and hike up there by foot. I heard one of the boys. He must have woke up from a bad dream.”
Taite leaned close, then whispered back, “And I only heard a hoot owl.”
Robert led them up toward the rocks. The slope of the mountain and the rocks increased, but there was still a wide enough trail for a buckboard. He pulled out his revolver but refused to cock the hammer. How in the world do you arrest train robbers in the dark without firing a shot? But I’m not doing those boys a favor letting them think it’s alright to rob and steal without getting caught.
The trail leveled out near the front of a twenty-foot cliff. In the moonlight Robert spotted the buckboard parked parallel to the cliff. One horse was tied behind it; he couldn’t see the second horse. They may be under the wagon, in the wagon, behind the wagon, or in a cave … cave… . The boys are in a shallow cave… . That’s why the voice echoed all the way down the mountain.
Robert reached out and tugged on Taite’s wool coat sleeve to get him to stop walking, then raised a finger to his lips.
Holter isn’t with the boys because they had to call him. Mama will be with the boys. But why didn’t they call for Mama? If it was me, put mama and the kids behind the wagon, and I’d sleep under it as first line of defense … if it was me.
Robert motioned Stillman Taite to stay back by the rocks. He crept forward toward the wagon. Someone’s lying under the wagon. But is it mama or daddy … or just an empty bedroll?
Robert trained his revolver on the object under the wagon. Squatting down on his haunches, he leaned low to get a clear view. Without opening his lips, he hummed a faint “Daddy!”
There was no movement.
Again he hummed “Daddy.” This time it was louder.
Someone stirred, then raised up on one elbow, looked around, then flopped back down.
That’s Guthrie Holter. His wife doesn’t have a mustache!
Robert glanced back at Taite and beckoned him to move up a little closer. Then he dropped down in the dirt and began to crawl on his stomach closer to the wagon.
Jamie Sue is right. I should wear duckings on this job. This suit is ruined from crawling under the train anyway. Holter, you are either snoring, or faking it to get me nearer.
Robert crawled closer … past the sleeping horse … past the wagon wheel. His gun hand led the way, the revolver pointed straight ahead of him.
With his left hand he reached out and grabbed Holter’s hair, just as he cocked the pistol and shoved it in the sleeping man’s ear.
“What the …” Holter tried to raise up, but Fortune slammed his head back down.
“It’s me, Holter,” Robert whispered. “You knew I’d come after you. It’s all over.”
Holter didn’t try to raise his head but glanced over toward the cave entrance. His voice was low, resigned. “I didn’t know you had figured it out so soon. I was goin’ back to Deadwood tomorrow to turn myself in.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
Holter’s voice was almost too soft to hear. “I suppose not.”
“Is your wife sleepin’ over by the boys?” Fortune pressed.
“She’s gone.”
“What do you mean, she’s gone?”
Guthrie Holter waved a hand back at the front of the wagon. “You don’t see the other horse do you?”
“No. Where did she go?”
“Who knows … Denver … San Francisco … anywhere to sell the diamonds and spend the money.”
“Without her sons?”
Holter’s voice was barely audible. “It ain’t the first time. She took off when I was putting the boys to bed. She knew I wouldn’t leave them and follow her.”
Robert kept one hand on Holter’s hair, the other on the revolver. “Are you telling me a mother would just ride off and leave her children?”
“I wanted to turn myself in at Deadwood. Thought there’d be a better chance to find someone to look after the boys up there.”
“This is crazy, Holter.”
“She’s crazy, Mr. Fortune. And I love her. That’s all I have to say about it. Can we let the boys sleep before we load up?”
Robert reached down and pulled Holter’s gun out of the holster, then dragged him out from under the wagon. Stillman Taite met them beside the wagon.
“Well, Mr. Taite,” Holter said. “Looks like you’re on the winnin’ side.”
“I don’t get it,” Taite replied. “Why did you do this?”
“You ain’t married,” Guthrie Holter shrugged.
“Go get the hobbles. We’ll bind his hands and feet until the boys wake up,” Robert instructed. “Did you hear about his wife taking off?”
Taite nodded. “Are we goin’ after her?”
“Not right now. We have to take Holter and his boys in.”
“She knew that …” Holter said. “She knew if you trailed her, the boys would slow you down. She figured you’d shoot me but then be stuck with the boys.”
Robert rubbed his bearded chin. “She figured all of that?”
“She said when she saw you dive out that window above her, she knew you were a driven man.”
“And then Curly Mac said, ‘I’m going to tie a ribbon on your wrist so I can tell you from your sister!’” Veronica giggled to her mother. “So he tied a yellow ribbon on my wrist. Isn’t it pretty?” She held up her wrist. “I am never, ever going to take it off.”
“I don’t think a twelve-year-old girl should be ribboned by any boy,” Jamie Sue said.
“Oh!” Veronica’s hand went over her mouth. “Is it naughty?”
“No, it’s just that …”
Patricia held up her wrist with a rose ribbon. “It’s just to tell us apart, Mama. We didn’t pledge to marry anyone.”
Jamie Sue sighed. “I’m certainly glad to hear that. Did young Mr. Curly Mac ribbon you too?”
“Of course not!” Patricia gasped. “It was Eachan.”
“I’m pleased that some members of the Moraine family can tolerate some members of the Fortune family.”
“I thought Uncle Sammy talked to the Irish and settled the matter,” Veronica replied.
“It seems settled to everyone but Mr. Moraine.”
“I don’t know how anyone can hate Daddy. He’s the nicest man I know!” Patricia declared.
“It’s a Fortune men tradition,” Jamie Sue declared. “All Fortune men are nice.”
“What’s the Fortune women tradition, Mama?” Veronica asked.
“To find the world’s nicest men and marry them,” Jamie Sue declared.
“Curly Mac’s kind of nice. But his aunt runs a saloon, and sometimes he goes in there to carry out the trash and sweep. I suppose that’s not very nice.” Veronica managed to get out the whole sentence with one breath.
“Niceness comes out of the heart, girls. You have to know a boy’s heart before you know if he’s nice or not,” Jamie Sue schooled.
“How do we get to know a boy’s heart, Mama?”
“Girls, this is a conversation that we should have when you’re fifteen or sixteen.”
“It ought to be quite a year,” Veronica replied. “I have a list of things three pages long of things you promised to tell us when we are sixteen.”
“You write them down?”
“Yes, they’re in my …” Veronica took a deep breath … “in my diary!”
“We lost our diaries!” Patricia moaned.
“We won’t know what questions to ask!” Veronica whimpered.
“Trust me, girls, you will know.”
Jamie Sue pulled her long hair tight to the back of her neck and wrapped it on the back of her head for pinning.
“Mama, how come you took a bath and washed your hair in the middle of the afternoon?”
“I got a little dirty.”
“I thought you went to help some ladies buy some dresses.”
“I did. But they needed baths first, … and they were quite dirty.”
“Did they run into skunks like Little Frank that one time at Camp Verde?”
“Something like that.” Skunks would have been an improvement.
Little Frank burst through the back door. “I rode him, Mama! They let me ride him. He is the best horse I ever rode in my life!”
“Go back and close the door, young man.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Little Frank slunk back through the kitchen to the back porch and pulled the white, painted wooden door closed.
“Now just which horse did you ride?” she asked.
“Little Traveler.”
“Which one is that?”
“His grandpappy was General Lee’s favorite mount.”
“The white one?”
“Kind of gray, actually,” Little Frank said.
“I’m not sure I like you riding a racehorse. I trust you just exercised him.”
Little Frank dropped his head. “Mr. Meyers wanted to time him on the new track.”
“You galloped him around the track?”
“Oh, yes! I had the fastest time, Mama.”
Veronica’s eyes lit up. “Really? Wait until I tell Eachan that my brother has the fastest time on Little Traveler!”
“He already knows.”
“How?”
“He was on Cincinnati Joe, the other horse. I beat him by a nose,” Little Frank said.
“I can’t believe this Mr. Meyers let you boys race the horses. I’ll have your father talk to him.”
“He paid us, Mama.”
“Paid you? You’ve worked for him a month for free and he paid you for racin’ the horses once around the track?”
“Five greenback cash dollars each.” Little Frank pulled out the bill and unfolded it. “Look.”
“Eachan has five dollars too?” Patricia asked.
“I’ll bet Curly Mac makes more than that cleaning his aunt’s saloon,” Veronica replied.
“Mama, it isn’t sinful to ride a horse fast,” Little Frank declared.
“No, but it’s dangerous. And I will not have my son hanging around a bunch of racetrack sinners.”
“Where can I hang around where there are no sinners at all?” he asked.
Robert Fortune, this is not a good time for you to be gone. You have a son to talk to … right now! “We will discuss it with your father when he gets home tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? But, when tomorrow?” Little Frank groaned.
Friends and Enemies Page 22
