by Kaki Warner
Days ago, Thomas had given Katse’e the gifts Prudence had packed to mark the birth of the Christian god. But he did not know the New Year had come, too.
“Nobody was about to go to church twice in the same week,” Kincaid went on, “so the reverend gave his welcome today, rather than last Monday.” He squinted through the front windows. “Looks like you’re still in time for dinner. Big doings. Whole town’s invited, but I got my ladies to tend. Step clear.”
As the wagon pulled away, Thomas looked through the window at the people eating inside. He did not want to go in there. He was not ready to answer questions about Lillian and Prudence Lincoln. But until he found a place for them to stay, the hotel was his only choice.
“Miss Minty smell food. She say she hungry.”
“Miss Minty talks too much.”
“We not eat?”
“Yes, we will eat. But first there are people who will want to meet you.” He rested a hand on her shoulder to make sure he had her attention. “You will remember your manners, Katse’e. Can you do that?”
“I sweet as pecan pie with molasses and a chunk of sugar cane on top. Ev’rybody love me. You see.”
Dreading what was to come, Thomas led her into the hotel.
He was glad Lillian could not announce to everybody in Heartbreak Creek that he and Prudence were now man and wife. He did not want to answer questions about that, or about why his wife did not come, or who the child was he had brought back with him. He could hardly make sense of it himself.
Yancey, the brown-toothed old white man Lucinda Rylander paid to watch over the lobby, dozed in his chair. Thomas did not wake him, but moved toward the room where food was served.
In the doorway, he stopped, amazed at the number of new white faces. Some he recognized, including those who had come from England—Rayford Jessup’s new wife, Josephine, and her son, Jamie, as well as the two workers from her English home, Gordon and Henny Stevens. But there were others he had never seen before.
When had so many people come to Heartbreak Creek? They were like ants, overrunning everything in their path.
For a moment, no one noticed them, then Edwina Brodie bounded from her chair. “Thomas! You’re back!”
Faces turned. Voices called out. Edwina rushed forward, arms out-flung. “Did you bring Pru? Rafe and his bride, Josie, arrived with the horses over a week ago.” Abruptly she stopped, her look of surprise giving way to a wide smile that crinkled the corners of her blue eyes. “And who is this precious little thing?”
“She talkin’ ’bout me?” the girl whispered.
“Say hello, Katse’e.”
“Hi, ev’rybody!” Lillian shouted. “It me, Lillie Redstone. Some calls me Lillian. Daddy mostly call me Cat-see, but he a Cheyenne Dog Soldier and talk funny so I think he mean Can’t-see on account I cain’t see, being a po’ blind black child and all.” She held up her doll. “This here Miss Minty. She hungry ’nuff eat worms. But first, she need to pee. You gots a necessary room ’round here?”
* * *
It was late. Katse’e and the two youngest Brodie children, Brin and Whit, along with Rayford Jessup’s new son, Jamie, were all sleeping in one of the hotel rooms under the watchful eye of Mrs. Bradshaw, the hotel housekeeper. Their parents sat with the Rylanders and Hardestys in the empty dining room, plying Thomas with questions over coffee and tea for the women and whisky for the men—except Thomas, who shunned alcohol. Even Ida Throckmorton was there, the old woman who had followed Lucinda Rylander from New York. A cantankerous mahatamaahe. The Cheyenne would have left her in the woods long ago.
Thomas tried to remain patient. This was his Heartbreak Creek family. His only family now, except for Lillian. They would want their questions answered.
Once they made their jokes about his white clothes and short hair, they started in about Katse’e.
“They simply let you walk off with her?” Edwina Brodie asked.
“She said I was her father.”
“And they believed her? Heavens, you look nothing alike. You’re not even the same color.”
“Edwina Whitney Ladoux Brodie!” From her slouched position, Lucinda Rylander pointed at the far wall. “Go sit in the corner and think about what you just said.” Then, ignoring the shock on the Southern woman’s face, Lucinda turned to her husband. “Too much, do you think?”
Tait smiled. “It was very good, sweetheart. Maybe less pointing.”
When she saw the confused looks turned her way, Lucinda patted her enormous belly. “I’m practicing.” Cocking a wheat-colored eyebrow at Declan Brodie, she added, “None of my children are going to run around like wild Indians. No offense, Thomas.”
“Your daughter needs to be taken in hand,” old lady Throckmorton told Thomas. “Taught manners and proper speech. I did an excellent job with my ward, here, who was deplorably Irish. If pressed, I could try my hand with Lillian.”
No one pressed. Thomas glanced from the stern-faced old lady to Lucinda Rylander, a hard-eyed beauty who bossed the whole town. He would be afraid to count coup on either one of them. “Maybe the old black couple will take her.”
“Take her?” Edwina Brodie whipped toward him. “You better not be thinking to give that child away, Thomas Redstone. It’s plain as pudding she adores you, and when Pru comes back—”
“Nehetaa’e!” Thomas slapped his hand onto the tabletop. “Does no one hear my words? Prudence may not come back. We will speak no more of it.”
The old lady sniffed. Lucinda Rylander narrowed her eyes at him. The men frowned in watchful silence, knowing better than to speak.
Thomas let out a deep breath. “I would not give Katse’e away. But I must find work and a place to stay if I am to take care of her. And someone will have to watch over her while I earn money to do that.”
“Work?” Declan Brodie gave him a skeptical look. “Does that mean no more wandering off when the mood strikes you?”
“I have a daughter now. I will do what I must.”
Edwina frowned. “You’ve changed. Not just the clothes or hair. I’ve never heard you talk so much. Or smile so little. Our old Thomas is still there, isn’t he?”
Thomas shrugged. Sometimes he wondered, too.
Across the table, Rayford Jessup regarded him with troubled eyes. Rayford and Thomas had spent much time together in England and in the land where the Scotsman lived. Rayford had helped Thomas write his book, and had also helped him write a letter to Prudence Lincoln. They had fought, and fished, and spent long days in a cold English jail. Like Declan Brodie—who had helped Thomas through his darkest days and had later trusted him to be his deputy—the quiet Texan was almost a brother to Thomas and knew him well. Well enough to say nothing now.
His pretty English wife remained silent, too, a look of bewilderment in her two-colored eyes as she glanced from one person to another. Thomas did not blame her. The white people in Heartbreak Creek were a strange tribe.
“Perhaps the Abrahams might help,” Edwina Brodie said. “They’ve been helping with our baby Whit, but he’s almost one now, and as busy as a one-handed sheep shearer. They’d probably appreciate an older, quieter child to look after.”
Lillian—quiet? Thomas almost laughed. “Until I find work, I cannot pay them much.”
Edwina waved a hand in dismissal. “Just give Winnie room for a garden and Curtis a rocker in the sun. They’d be fine grandparents for that sweet baby.”
Sweet? Thomas did laugh at that one.
Declan Brodie, his big frame sprawled in the chair, hands the size of dinner plates clasped over his belt buckle, asked Rayford Jessup if he needed help with the thoroughbreds he had brought back from England. “Thomas is pretty good with horses.”
“I am better with horses than you, cow chaser.”
“Not until spring,” Rayford Jessup answered. “It’s chaos out there now with all the
construction and trying to get the place ready for Ash and Maddie’s return in a couple of months.”
Tait asked the man picking his teeth at the end of the table how construction was coming along.
“Stable’s done,” Ethan Hardesty said. “The house is behind schedule because of the nursery modifications, but it should be ready when the Wallaces arrive this spring.” Beside him, his wife scribbled furiously in a small tablet.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you, Thomas!” Edwina’s big smile reminded him of Katse’e, except Prudence’s sister had all her teeth. “Maddie had her baby! We received a telegram from Ash’s Boston bankers yesterday. A little baby earl.”
“Actually,” Josephine Jessup cut in, her clipped English accent an odd contrast to the lilting, southern tones of Edwina Brodie, “Donnan will be a viscount until his father passes and he inherits the title of Earl of Kirkwell.”
“Wait! Say that again.” Audra Hardesty flipped a page in her tablet. “I want to be sure to get it right for tomorrow’s edition.”
While Josephine Jessup repeated her words for the newspaper lady, Lucinda crossed her arms over her bulging belly. “Well, I don’t think it’s at all fair. Her baby wasn’t due until next week. And my Uthred is already eight days late.”
“Rothschild,” her husband corrected.
“Harold,” Ida Throckmorton snapped. “And it’s highly improper to discuss such things in mixed company. They’re men, for heaven’s sake.”
It seemed no one considered the possibility that the babe would be a girl.
“I’ll talk to Chick,” Declan Brodie said to Thomas. “He told me he’s ready to come back to work at the ranch. With his peg leg, he was never that suited to the sheriff job, anyway. You interested in being the full-time sheriff, Thomas?”
Although he hated the idea of being trapped in town so much, Thomas had not minded his time as deputy. At least as sheriff, he would have no one ordering him around except Katse’e. “Will we be able to stay in the sheriff’s house?”
Edwina shook her head. “We bought it from the bank for a Sunday house so we’d have a place to stay when we came to town for shopping and visiting and church services. And it’s good for Brin to be around other girls.”
“That hellion could use some mannering, too,” Ida Throckmorton muttered.
“You know,” Rayford Jessup cut in, “not that I don’t think Thomas would make a suitable sheriff, but from what I remember from my days as a marshal, they’re usually elected officials.”
“Not here,” Declan told him. “No one wants the job, so we have to appoint.”
“Take the Arlan place,” Ethan Hardesty suggested to Thomas. “Since Audra’s father passed on, there’s just the two of us.” He glanced at his wife, who quit scribbling to give him a sad smile. “We’ve been talking about moving to the new house we’re building on the flats near the Wallace place. All the structural work is done. Only a matter of finishing up. We could move tomorrow.”
“Then it’s settled.” Tait Rylander raised his whisky glass high. “A toast to old friends returned”—he nodded toward Thomas and Rayford Jessup—“and to friends newly arrived”—a smile for Josephine Jessup—“and to those yet to come”—a gentle pat on the belly of his wife. “May eighteen hundred seventy-two bring us all health, wealth, and happiness.”
A chorus of “cheers” went around the table. Thomas forced a smile. But they all knew what Tait Rylander had not mentioned in his toast. Those who were absent and not coming back.
WASHINGTON, D.C., JANUARY 1872
Pru was met by thunderous applause as she stepped away from the podium and back to Brother’s side. Her proposal was a success. Even before her speech, there had been talk of forming a committee to further Negro education. Her work was done.
Yet it felt like a hollow victory. The weeks away from Thomas and Lillie had caused a rift in her heart and a shift in her mind. The dreams that had driven her for so long had faded. Her priorities had changed. Now her every thought focused on getting back home to her family and friends. Thomas needed her. Lillie needed her. And she needed them even more. She felt as if she were missing a vital part of herself. The best part.
“Now for home,” she murmured to Brother as they left the meeting room through a side door.
Brother chuckled. “Me, too. My flock is liable to have flown without me there to keep them penned. If you’ll be traveling through Indiana, we can go together.”
When they stepped into the hall, two men in dark suits by the exit door turned to watch them.
“I’d feel safer if we did.” Pru had never traveled alone before, and being a woman of color presented its own problems. “I need to stop in Indianapolis to see the judge and make sure the adoption was finalized.”
The men started toward them, their faces set in firm lines.
Instantly alert, Pru glanced about for another doorway out of the building. Her proposal might have gained followers, but there were still those resentful of Negroes upsetting the applecart with radical ideas. Significant change, she had realized, would be slow and arduous.
The men lengthened their strides. Wariness tightened Pru’s chest.
She glanced at Brother to see him tracking their movements, too, a worried look on his face. She pointed to a side door. “Perhaps we should go out that way.”
He nodded and started to turn when one of the men called out, “Reverend Sampson? Mrs. Redstone?”
“Yes?” Brother stopped, his hand on her elbow pulling Pru close to his side. “I’m Reverend Sampson. And this is Mrs. Redstone. How can we help you?”
“You can turn around.” The closest man reached under his coat to retrieve something at his back. Pru saw what looked like a badge on his shirt, and her throat constricted.
“Stay behind me,” Brother muttered as the men continued toward them with determined strides. “Who are you?” he demanded, his voice rising on a current of fear.
“U.S. Marshals.” The second man pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, spun Brother around, and snapped the manacles on his wrists.
“What are you doing?” Pru cried as the other man jerked her arms behind her. Cold metal closed around her wrists.
“You’re both under arrest.”
“Why? What for?” Pru’s legs threatened to give out as she and Brother were shoved roughly toward the exit.
“For the murder of Cyrus Marsh of Indiana.”
COLORADO TERRITORY
The morning after his and Lillian’s arrival in Heartbreak Creek, Thomas ate breakfast with Declan Brodie at the hotel, while Katse’e knocked around the empty dining room hunting the hotel cat.
“Talked to Ethan Hardesty this morning,” Brodie said, jiggling his large baby on his knee while he fed him bites from his plate. “Said he and Audra would be out of the Arlan house by noon. Place is all yours.”
Before Thomas could respond, Edwina Brodie swept in and plunked a big basket on a table near theirs. “Where’s Luce and Tait?”
“Lucinda’s battling the heaves,” her husband said. “Tait’s hiding from Mrs. Throckmorton. What’s in the basket?”
“Nothing for you. Thomas, Audra said they were leaving behind the furniture Lucinda had donated after the hotel renovation. Apparently, Ethan’s ordering all new. Has Whit eaten anything, Declan?”
“Most of my breakfast,” her husband complained.
“He’s not getting that appetite from me. I’m Southern.”
“Southern people do not eat food?” Thomas asked.
“Not like that child does. I swear he’s going to be a giant someday.”
He already was a giant.
“I spoke with the Abrahams.” Settling into the chair beside her husband, she took over the feeding of the baby giant. “They’d love to help with Lillie. In fact, they’re already carrying things over to their old room at the Arlan
place.”
Thomas knew Ethan Hardesty and Curtis Abraham well, but not their women. He could hardly keep up with all the people who had moved into Heartbreak Creek since he had first come to the canyon. He did not know what brought them. Or understand why white people could not stay in one place but felt driven to move on, gobbling up whatever land they wanted, no matter who already lived there. They seemed to have no sense of tribe.
Yet he had noticed that once they came here to this little mountain town, they stayed. He had, too. Perhaps they were building a new tribe.
The Abrahams had come to Heartbreak Creek with Audra Pearsall and her sick father last year. But after the old man died and Ethan Hardesty took the Pearsall woman to wife, the black couple had moved into the carriage house behind the Brodies’ Sunday house so they could help with the children when the family came to town. He hoped Declan Brodie was paying them well.
“It was a bit disconcerting, really,” Edwina Brodie went on, trying to wrest the spoon from her son’s grip, “how the Abrahams dropped everything and ran to get their belongings. Almost as if they were glad to be leaving us.”
Thomas was not surprised. With Declan Brodie’s three unruly sons and one daughter from his first marriage, and now this giant baby he had gotten on this new wife, they must have felt like a haunch of fresh venison in a cage of starving dogs. “I am glad for their help.”
They all flinched when a chair toppled. “Gotcha, kitty!” Lillian crowed.
Brodie reached for the last piece of toast. “Talked to Chick and the mayor about the sheriff job. Chick says he’s tired of city living and wants to go back to chasing cows. Mayor Gebbers will meet you at the sheriff’s office at three to give you the oath. You do know how to tell time, don’t you, Thomas?”
“Three o’clock. The sun one hand-width past the tallest peak. I will be there.”
Brodie smirked. “That how you Indians tell time? What about cloudy days?”
