“You pass up work?”
“I know. It sounds crazy. But I’m more fond of breathing than I am of turning a profit.”
“What happened there that you won’t go back?” Thal asked.
“What happened,” the freighter replied, “is Trevor Galt. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m a busy man, and I’ve given you more of my time than I can afford.” He hustled into his office.
“Well, now,” Ned said.
“The more I hear,” Crawford said, “the more I wish we’d never left Texas.”
“If it was your brother, you’d do the same,” Thal said.
Mounting, they headed north, and before long the buildings and the bustle were behind them.
Thal willed himself to not look back. It would make him think of Ursula. He hated leaving her, but it had to be done. He mused that Ned had been right in one regard. The romance issue aside, Jesse Lee was a better protector.
The road to the west proved to be a rutted track not much wider than a wagon. A mile from Deadwood it climbed into higher hills thick with forest.
“You notice anything?” Ned said.
“I saw a jay yonder,” Thal said.
“We haven’t seen another rider. Or any wagons.”
“Haven’t you been payin’ attention?” Crawford said. “These hills are crawlin’ with Sioux. Most whites don’t go anywhere unless it’s in large groups.”
“Maybe we should have waited and found some others headin’ to American City,” Ned said.
“We’ll be all right if we don’t get careless,” Thal said with more confidence than he felt. He disliked putting his friends as risk, but it couldn’t be helped.
“That’s probably what General Custer thought,” Ned said.
His hand on his Colt, Thal pricked his ears for the sounds out of the woods. Everything seemed ordinary enough. Warblers sang and squirrels scampered, and once a chipmunk chittered at them. Later, several does fled with their tails high. Still, Thal grew increasingly uneasy. He blamed it on all the tales of scalped whites, and accounts of how the Sioux could strike out of nowhere, like ghosts.
Dark clouds scuttled in, and for a while he thought it might rain. The wind increased and the shadows lengthened until the forest was cast in a preternatural twilight.
“Listen,” Ned said.
The birds and other wildlife had fallen silent.
Thal figured the weather was to blame. Then he rounded a bend and spied another doe about fifty yards off. She was looking the other way, her ears up, standing as if poised for flight. Suddenly she bolted into the trees. Something around the next bend had spooked her.
Thal could never say what made him do what he did next. “Quick,” he said, and reined into the woods. He went a short way and turned the chestnut so he could see the road.
Ned and Crawford had followed without question, but now Ned said, “What is it? Why are we hidin’?”
“Hush.” Thal was glued to that far bend. His skin prickled when riders appeared.
Strung out in single file, there were six, in all. Their long black hair was parted in the middle, with braids on either side. They all carried rifles, and they were all painted for war. One wore a cavalry hat, another a cavalry shirt, and a third the pants, the garments no doubt taken from a slain trooper.
Sioux, or the Lakotas, as they were called. Thal knew the tribe was made up of different bands but didn’t know how to tell one band from the other. The important thing was that the entire tribe wanted to drive the white man from their territory, and would kill any white-eye they found.
The six sat their mounts with a natural ease. It was said that the Sioux were born on horseback. An exaggeration, but they were considered some of the finest horsemen on the plains. General Custer had found out the hard way exactly how fine when they rallied to the defense of a sprawling village on the Little Bighorn and wiped Custer and his command out.
Thal held himself still as the war party went past. He prayed the chestnut wouldn’t whinny. He saw Ned’s animal raise its head and braced for the worst, but the horse didn’t do anything, thank God.
The Sioux went around a turn to the east, and the clomp of hooves faded.
Ned let out a long breath. “Land sakes,” he whispered. “I thought for a second we were goners.”
“More of that luck we’ve been havin’,” Crawford said.
“They’ve got gall, comin’ so close to Deadwood,” Ned said.
“Lookin’ for whites to kill, most likely,” Crawford said.
“What if there are more?”
Thal worried about that very thing. The six might be part of a large war party. “We can’t turn back. We’d run into them.”
“Then let’s stay right here until the sun goes down,” Ned suggested. “We’ll only ride at night when the Sioux can’t see us.”
“And we can’t see them.” Thal shook his head. “We’ll go on as we are.”
“Lord help us,” Ned said.
Stiff with dread, Thal resumed their trek. It rattled his nerves, never knowing when the shriek of a war whoop might shatter the air. It reminded him of the time Comanches raided a neighboring ranch, and for weeks the Crescent H’s hands had worried that the terrors of Texas would pay them a visit.
Presently the dark clouds scuttled off and the sun shone anew, but not for long. Sunset wasn’t far off.
Thal pushed on until the last vestige of light faded. Sheltered in the trees, they ate cold beans for supper. Ned wanted to start a fire, but Thal and Crawford were against it.
Along about ten o’clock they turned in. Thal didn’t bother spreading out his blankets. He sat with his back to an oak and his rifle across his lap.
Ned, lying on his back with his head propped in his hands, remarked, “I hope this brother of yours is still alive. I’d hate to think we’ve gone to all this bother for nothin’.”
“Another day or two and we’ll find out,” Crawford said.
“Provided we get there.”
“That’s what I like about you, Ned,” Crawford said. “You always look at the bright side.”
“Don’t I, though?” Ned said.
“No,” Crawford said.
“Thal, tell him,” Ned said. “Don’t I have the sunniest disposition you’ve ever come across?”
“You’re about as sunny as the dark side of the moon,” Thal said.
Crawford laughed.
“Nuts to both of you,” Ned said.
Thal would have laughed except that, once again, Ned had a point. They’d be lucky to make it out of the Black Hills alive.
Chapter 18
Ursula Christie had never stayed at a boardinghouse before. It amazed her no end that the room Mrs. Peal led her to was more finely furnished than her own bedroom back in Kansas. For starters, the bed was larger and softer and covered with a gorgeous quilt. The chest of drawers was larger too and lustrous with polish, whereas hers had so many scratches and scuffs it looked as if her cat has used it to sharpen its claws. There was a chair, which she didn’t have in her bedroom, and a lamp decorated with a flowery design. Embroidered curtains covered the window.
Once she was alone, Ursula plopped on the bed and tried to take a nap. It was pointless. Her mind was racing. Not with worry for her brother, Myles. Or with concern for Thalis. No, she had someone else very much in her thoughts.
Rising, Ursula checked her reflection in the mirror on the chest of drawers. Her hair needed brushing and her clothes were dusty. A brush took care of the first, a few slaps of her hand the other.
Amused at how bold she was being, Ursula left the boardinghouse and crossed the street to the empty lot. The object of her thoughts was seated on the ground in a small clearing in the trees, absently chewing on a blade of grass. His horse was behind him, still saddled. She coughed to get his attention.
&n
bsp; Jesse Lee pushed to his feet as if fired from a cannon. “Miss Christie!” he exclaimed. “What are you doin’ here?”
“You’re my protector, aren’t you?” Ursula said.
“You bet I am. I gave my word to your brother to look after you.”
“I was there, remember?” Ursula said, grinning. “As to why I’m here, I could go for an early supper. How about you?”
“I go where you go,” Jesse Lee said.
“That’s no answer. Are you hungry or not?”
“I am if you are.”
Ursula held out her elbow. “Then you can escort me and we’ll become better acquainted.”
“We were travelin’ together for more than two weeks,” Jesse Lee said. “I’d say we already are.”
“Posh and poppycock,” Ursula said. “We hardly got to talk to each other, what with my brother always around, and Ned.”
“He’s powerful interested in you.”
“Did I ask him to be?” Ursula waggled her arm. “Are you escorting me or not?”
A broad smile split Jesse Lee’s face. “I’d be plumb delighted.” He took her arm, then reached back with his other hand and snatched the reins to his palomino.
“I’d rather walk,” Ursula said.
“So would I,” Jesse Lee said. “But it wouldn’t be smart to leave my horse unattended.”
“No,” Ursula realized. “Not here, it wouldn’t.”
As they strolled along, she contrived to swing her hips more than she normally would, and avoided looking at him for fear she might blush.
“You surprised me, showin’ up like you did,” Jesse Lee mentioned as they came to Main Street.
“Who else do I know?” Ursula justified her brazenness. “I didn’t care to stay cooped up in my room, my brother notwithstanding.”
Jesse Lee surprised her by coming to Thal’s defense. “He has your best interests at heart.”
“Correction. What Thal thinks are my best, which might not be the same as what I think is best.”
“You’re a strong-willed gal, and that’s no lie.”
“I’ll take that a compliment,” Ursula said, then had a troubling thought. “Do you mind strong-willed women? Some men don’t, I’ve heard tell. They like their females to be sheep.”
“My ma was a strong lady,” Jesse Lee said. “When she wanted to do somethin’, she did it, come hell or high water.” He caught himself. “Pardon my language, ma’am.”
“Call me Ursula,” she said. “I’ve heard worse. One time my pa banged his shin on a grain bin in our barn and cussed fit to burn my ears off. I told Ma and she said I should forgive him, that that’s how men are. Do you cuss a lot?”
“I never much got into the habit, no,” Jesse Lee said. “My ma might have helped. When I was little, she’d wash my mouth out with lye soap if I used bad language.”
“Our ma ingrained in us from the time we were old enough to waddle that if we cussed, we’d be turned over to Pa, and his switch. Thal and me hardly ever paid the woodshed a visit, but Myles was sent there all the time. He couldn’t behave if his life depended on it.”
“You don’t say.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Ursula amended quickly. “Myles wasn’t a troublemaker. He just did what he wanted, when he wanted. For instance, when he was supposed to out in the fields, planting, instead he’d go into town. He did things like that all the time and didn’t seem to care.”
“And here we are, tryin’ to rescue him.”
“He’s my brother,” Ursula said. “What else can I do?”
“No need to apologize. Where I’m from, kin counts for everything.”
The street was jammed, but Ursula hardly noticed. She only had eyes for her escort. He struck her as being just about the handsomest thing in britches there ever was. The feel of his hand on her arm made her tingle. Her ma would say she was being a hussy, but how else was she to learn all she could about him?
It was early yet, and they had the Black Hills Restaurant almost to themselves. She chose a corner table where they would have some privacy, but Jesse Lee mentioned that he’d like to sit where he could keep an eye on his horse, so she picked a table near the front window. She liked that he held out the chair for her, liked that he took off his hat. He had beautiful hair. Not that she’d tell him so to his face. It was her understanding that men weren’t fond of being called beautiful.
Ursula had to work on him to get his tongue to loosen. She had a hundred questions about his life in North Carolina. What were his folks like? Why’d he leave the hills? Did he ever miss it or want to go back?
His answers: his folks were nice as could be, he’d left the hills to see something of the world, and yes, he had moments when he missed them, but not enough to regret his decision.
Did he like Texas? Did he aim to live there the rest of his life? And to be a cowboy forever?
Texas fit him like a glove, Jesse Lee said. He hadn’t seen anywhere he liked better, so it wouldn’t surprise him if he stayed until he was ready to be put out to pasture. As for cowboy work, he liked it more than anything else he’d tried.
Ursula was pleased at how honest he was being. “I’d like to see Texas someday. That is, if I had someone to show me around.” She was sure she blushed.
“I’d be happy to, ma’am.”
“It’s Ursula, please. Remember?” She was enjoying herself so much that she asked without thinking, “And how many men have you killed with that fancy pistol of yours?”
His sat back as if she’d struck him.
“I’m sorry,” Ursula said in alarm. “That was rude. I overstepped myself, and I apologize.”
Jesse Lee poked at his steak with his fork, then set the fork down.
Appalled by her blunder, Ursula tried to make amends. “Forget I asked. It’s none of my business.”
“Seven,” Jesse Lee said softly.
“My word,” Ursula said, shocked. Her brother had intimated that Jesse Lee had killed, but she’d never have suspected so many. “Seven men?”
“Six,” Jesse Lee said. “One wasn’t.”
“Oh.” Ursula wrestled with the revelation. Shooting a man was one thing. “A woman?” she said breathlessly. “For real?”
“She was holdin’ a shotgun on me and your brother and Craw and Ned. She planned to kill us and help herself to our valuables.” Jesse Lee touched his fingertips to his brow. “It was the worst deed I’ve ever done, but if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be sittin’ here.”
Ursula was silent awhile. She been raised her whole life according to the commandment Thou Shalt Not Kill. For someone to have shot so many, and a woman, besides, went against the Bible and her own beliefs. “I’ve killed a few mice. And a snake, once.”
“Was that supposed to be funny?” Jesse Lee asked.
“Mercy no,” Ursula said. “I’m trying to fathom the enormity of it. We wring the necks of chickens for the supper pot, and butcher a hog from time to time. But that’s normal.”
“Ah,” Jesse Lee said, rather sadly. “You’re sayin’ I’m not.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Ursula upbraided him. “From chickens and hogs to men is a big step. I don’t know as I could. Not even if my life was at stake.”
“May you never be put to the test.”
Ursula was deeply sorry she’d brought it up. She tried to lighten his mood by saying, “I doubt I ever will. Kansas is pretty tame. There’s not that much call for female gun hands.”
“Women have more sense,” Jesse Lee said.
Taking a sip of water to wet her throat, Ursula decided to find out more. “Do you regret those you’ve shot?”
“It was them or me.”
“That’s no answer.”
Jesse Lee sat back. “Do I lose sleep over it? No. Do I break into tears now and again? No. Do I fall on
my knees and beg forgiveness? No.”
“My ma would call that blasphemy.”
“I should take you back to the boardin’house,” Jesse Lee said unexpectedly.
Startled, Ursula blurted, “I’m not done eating.”
“When you’re done, then.” Shifting in his chair, Jesse Lee stared out the window.
Ursula was bewildered. He didn’t act angry. Yet she had hurt his feelings, somehow. Their first day together had gotten off on the wrong foot, and she was to blame. She forked a piece of carrot into her mouth and deliberately chewed slowly. She had a lot of food left. Enough to stall for fifteen to twenty minutes. She spent five of them mulling over how to get back in his good graces, and finally tried with “You do remember I’m a farm girl, don’t you?”
Jesse Lee crooked an eyebrow at her. “Meanin’?”
“I’m not very versed in the ways of the world. I’ve never been anywhere except Salina, and Topeka once. My life is the farm, and trips to the general store now and then, and church on Sunday.”
“It sounds like a good life.”
“You’re missing my point.” Ursula set down her fork to give him her undivided attention. “I’m young yet, and I’m the first to admit I don’t know a lot about a lot of things. How to dress like fancy ladies do. How to act in public sometimes.”
“You act just fine.”
“Not with you, I haven’t, and that upsets me. I like you, Jesse Lee. And I don’t want you to not like me.”
“You’d have to go a considerable ways to do that.”
“I just did. By bringing up something I shouldn’t. Now I don’t know how to make amends so we can be friends again.” Ursula was pleased by how she phrased that.
“We still are,” Jesse Lee said. “It’s not you. It’s me. My heroes are men like Wild Bill. Shootists. Because I like to shoot myself. I told you it was always me or the other fella. But I didn’t have to fill my hand. I could have backed down. Or run. But tucking tail’s not in me. I couldn’t live with myself, after. If we’re not true to who we are, then what good are we?”
Ursula was about to reply when she realized he didn’t really want her to. He’d already gone on.
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