Do-si-do

by Dorothy A. Bell

  Her arms locked to her side, Adella giggled against his lips. Upon her release, she said, “I guess there’s not much point in keeping this a secret. We’re adults.”

  Buck nodded. “We are, indeed.”

  He wanted to say more, but right then he heard the front door close and felt the draft come up the stairwell. He started downstairs with Rafe on his heels, along with Doreen in her dressing gown and Adella wrapped up in the coverlet off the bed. They followed him out onto the porch.

  In the twilight of predawn, a horse and buggy sped away from the hot spring through a swirl of dust, going toward the main road back into Baker City. The buggy had two passengers.

  “Well, hell,” Buck heard Rafe say under his breath.

  “I’ll hazard a guess and say Cornell is headed off for town to fetch his old man. He has a passenger. Don’t know who it could be.”

  A silence hung heavy in the air. Doreen put her arm around Adella.

  “Edditha? It had to be Edditha,” Adella said. She directed her question to Doreen. “You think it was Edditha? It had to be, no one else here but us four, Cornell and Edditha. But why? Where’s she going? Why?”

  Doreen left her side and backed up, retreating into the dark kitchen. Buck put his arm around the now shivering Adella and ushered her inside. Doreen lit the lamp on the table. She stood there, holding a folded sheet of paper out to Adella. “This is for you. I suspect it will explain things.”

  Notes left behind by runaway children never held good news, as far as Buck could recall. Whatever the note said, Adella wasn’t going to like it.

  In Adella’s hand, the folded sheet of paper stayed folded. Buck pulled out a chair for her. She plopped down in the seat and heaved a heavy sigh.

  “Coffee, we need coffee,” he said and headed for the pump in the kitchen.

  Holding the paper out to the lamp, Adella clutched the quilt with one hand and held the paper between her fingers with the other hand. Buck filled the coffee pot with water and scooped some ground coffee into the pot.

  He heard her utter two words, barely audible. “They’ve eloped.”

  He set a match to the kindling in the cook stove.

  “Eloped? No,” Doreen said, falling into the chair at the end of the table. Adella handed her the note and sat back in her chair, her shoulders slumped and her hands tightly holding the quilt about her.

  “Dear Mother,” Doreen read aloud. “Please forgive us. Cornell and I feel that to stay and try to explain our choice would be difficult and too painful. Leaving really is the best explanation we can give.

  “Please, don’t worry about me. Cornell has promised to take good care of me. We are going to honeymoon in San Francisco. After, we’ll take a ship, and travel for a while, see Europe, maybe go on safari in Africa. We’re going to have a wonderful life together, Mother. I know exactly what I’m doing. I know this is sudden. But what I feel is real.

  “Gabriel, I think, will be relieved once the shock has worn off. Cornell has assured me Birdie-Alice will forgive him. I will keep you apprised of our location as we go on. With all my heart and respect, I remain your loving daughter, Edditha.”

  Adella sat up straight in her chair, shoulders back and chin up. “My daughter did not write this note. She would not pull such a rash, utterly hair-brained stunt. Not my daughter.”

  Shaking her head, she snatched the note out of Doreen’s fingers. “Edditha is not the least little bit spontaneous. She has never said a word to me about wanting to see Europe or travel. She hates trains. She’ll probably get seasick. Edditha, even as a child, wanted things planned out, scheduled. She examines everything, dissects if you will.”

  Giving the note a good shake, as if she could rearrange the wording, she read it again. “No, I don’t believe this, I don’t.”

  Buck poured her a cup of coffee. “Leave it to Cornell. He does have a way with the ladies, although he never did get very far with Birdie-Alice.” Head tipped to the side, he stared out the window. “I wonder why that was?” he asked, talking to himself.

  “Well, this sure throws a cog in my plans,” said Rafe, accepting the cup of coffee Buck offered. “You can bet old man Norquist isn’t going to like this, not one little bit. He had plans for the boy. Cornell is the heir to Norquist’s little empire. He’s supposed to assume the mantle. And my daughter, she was promised the position of queen of the empire. I don’t know what this will mean as far as my partnership with Norquist.”

  “Really, Rafe, how can you be so callous?” Doreen said, her voice as shrill as a fishwife. “Business, that’s all this is to you. Our Birdie has been humiliated. Cornell ran out on his promise to her.”

  “Oh, bull,” Rafe said. Grumbling to himself, he pulled out a chair across from Adella at the table. “Birdie don’t give a snap for Cornell. She couldn’t stand him. She had a duty to do as she was told. And I think she could see the advantages of marrying Cornell—he’s gonna have a lot of clout around here. Heck, I can see him running for governor someday. He’s got enough money behind him.”

  “How could you?” Doreen asked. “You knew how she felt, and yet you pushed and pushed her to accept his offer of marriage.”

  “Yeah, and so did you.”

  Buck shook his head at the pair. “Guess we better have breakfast. No use going back to bed now. Got sourdough here, I’ll make pancakes.” No one was listening to him. He knew that, but went ahead, talking to himself, voicing his thoughts aloud while he mixed up the batter. “Birdie-Alice held out longer than any female I ever saw against Cornell’s charms. Well, Birdie-Alice and my Jo. Jo never could take Cornell seriously, treated him like she would some poor half-wit, with kindness and forbearance, but never with any kind of regard.”

  Adella put her hands to her face. “Gabriel? Oh dear…” She shoved her hands back to her lap, turned in her chair to face Buck, who was flipping flapjacks. “I’m embarrassed. I don’t know what to say, Buck. I feel awful. I pushed Edditha too. Once I found out who Gabriel was, I practically threw my daughter at his head. When Gabriel told me his mother passed away, I wanted to see you, Buck. I wanted to meet you again. I couldn’t get the notion out of my head. I didn’t pay any attention to how Edditha felt about Gabriel or the engagement. She gave the appearance of a young woman in love. She truly admires Gabriel. I know she does, she told me so, many times. I mistook it for love, but to run off with…with Cornell after only a three-day acquaintance, that is beyond the pale. No, I can’t comprehend Edditha doing such a thing.”

  Buck removed the skillet from the stove, picked up the plate of flapjacks and scrambled eggs, and brought them to the table. He set the plate down in front of Adella and then leaned down and took her face in his hands. “I’m flattered and extremely glad you’re here. There is one thing I know for certain—we can’t live our children’s lives. We want the best for them, of course, but our best and their notion of best might not be the same. If mistakes are going to be made, then they have to take responsibility for them, just as we have had to do.

  He straightened and said to one and all, “I think we should have some food. This might prove to be a long day. I’m hoping Gabe and Van have the girls by now and are on their way home. One way or the other, we’ll know by the end of the day. The boys will get word to us. We may or may not see Nils Norquist. If he doesn’t show up by tomorrow evening, I’ll go get him myself.”

  Rafe took a plate and started to serve himself. “I’ll go with you. And we’ll find this other yahoo, the one who sent the Thurmans off to the other hot spring. We need to talk to him, too.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Adella nibbled at the corner of one flapjack and took a few bites of scrambled egg, then quietly excused herself to go back to her cabin. Helpless, Buck watched her leave, unable to think of anything he could do or say to make her feel better. He suggested to Doreen that perhaps a walk down to the bathing pool and a little woman to woman time would be in order.

  Buck and Rafe frittered away the better part
of the morning shooting the bull on the porch until the ladies returned. Adella offered him a brave little smile and complained that she was hungry. That cheered Buck right up.

  After a repast of cold ham and apple pie, Rafe volunteered to pull thistles from around the outhouse and along the path.

  Buck left the ladies relaxing in the parlor to fetch the scythe from the barn. The sounds of horses and riders coming into the yard set his heart to racing, his hopes soaring to the rafters.

  Gabe? Van? The girls, they’d made it home.

  When he opened the barn door, his heart plummeted to a region dark and cold within his chest.

  Four men on horseback, wearing black hats pulled low over their brows, and black dusters flapping in the breeze escorted a horse and buggy into the yard. Edditha, looking pale and apprehensive, sat huddled next to Cornell in the buggy. Cornell’s gaze darted toward the barn door and Buck.

  Behind the buggy rode a man dressed in a red riding coat with black lapels, tan jodhpurs, shiny black riding boots, and a black-billed hat. He led a horse carrying a sagging, barely conscious Nils Norquist.

  Buck had never seen the red coat before, but the proud lift of his square chin and the set of his thick shoulders proclaimed him the leader of this entourage. Turning away from the dandy, Buck saw they’d tied Norquist’s hands to the pommel, and his face was ashen and bruised.

  “Ah, Mr. Buxton,” called out the dandy in the red coat. Without a glance, he tossed the reins of Norquist’s mount to one of his minions, dismounted with amazing agility considering his rotund build, and in two long strides came within a few feet of Buck. The big open grin he wore on his ruddy face exposed an abundance of oversized yellow teeth, giving Buck the shivers.

  “Ivers McDaniel, Mr. Buxton. At last, we meet,” he said, thrusting his gloved, meaty paw out for Buck to shake.

  The grin held Buck’s attention. It reminded him of a picture he’d seen of a camel in one of his magazines, too many teeth and gums exposed. The man had small, beady blue eyes, too small for his big round face. Buck held his ground, arms at his side, unyielding.

  Rafe and Doreen came out of the house. Buck glanced up when he heard the screen door snap shut. McDaniel heard it too. His head pivoted around, forced grin in place. “And Mr. Bollo, I would know you anywhere, you are legend hereabout. And your mate, the beautiful whore, Doreen…also famous.” The man laughed, loud and bawdy.

  Buck reckoned the man a damned fool.

  Rafe cocked the rifle with a quick, deadly, one-handed flick of his wrist and brought it up to his hip, pointing it at McDaniel’s gut. “You cocky son-of-a-bitch, this lady is my wife. She is Mrs. Bollo to you. You will apologize now, or I’ll shoot your fancy red coat full of holes.”

  McDaniel chuckled and shook his head—also foolish, thought Buck.

  “Tut, tut, I meant no offense,” he said, removing his cap and offering Doreen a sweeping, deep bow. “I beg your pardon, madam.”

  Madam, not Mrs. Bollo. The insult was not lost on anyone, nor the sarcastic tone in which it was delivered. Rafe had his finger on the trigger. McDaniel remained impervious.

  “You Yanks, so sensitive about your courtesans. Where I come from a mistress takes precedence over a mere wife. I envy you, old boy. You have both in your delightfully delicious little baggage.”

  Rafe looked ready to explode. Stepping around McDaniel, Buck quickly headed for the porch and reached Rafe before he could make his move. Jaw clenched, eyes mere slits, Rafe barely had himself under control.

  McDaniel continued to prod. “I do wish you would lower your weapon, Mr. Bollo, you’re making my men nervous.”

  Buck raised his head and indeed, all four men had their guns trained on them with their fingers on the trigger. Rafe lowered his rifle, his arms going to his side. Doreen stepped behind him and peered around his shoulder.

  “Ah, much better,” said McDaniel. “I’ve had a bit of bother gathering up all pertinent parties. I found it positively providential we chanced upon young Norquist. Negotiations had broken down with his father. I hope for a better outcome here at your lovely hot spring. I see no need for violence. I’m here to talk business. I see no reason why we can’t come to a peaceful and profitable agreement. May I suggest we adjourn inside, out of the sun, where I can lay out my proposition?”

  McDaniel turned his head and nodded to his minions. Three of them dismounted, and one held Norquist’s horse as they shoved him out of the saddle. One of the men had gone over to the buggy. He poked Cornell in the ribs with his pistol, prodding him to get down. Cornell shoved the black hat aside to help Edditha alight. A bit of a tussle ensued. Cornell found himself on his knees in the dust, looking up into the barrel of a six-shooter. Edditha, none too gently, got picked up by the waist and hauled out of the buggy by the enemy. Cornell defiantly got to his feet and put his arm around her, protectively guiding her toward the house.

  Once Cornell and Edditha made it to the bottom step of the porch, Buck spoke up. “I don’t think we care to do business with you, Mr. McDaniel. And by the look of him, I’d say neither does Mr. Norquist. You can take your proposition, and your henchmen, and get off my property.”

  “Now, now, Mr. Buxton. I don’t think you should be too hasty. There may be factors you and Mr. Bollo should consider before dismissing my offer out of hand.”

  All this time, standing on the porch, Buck felt Adella watching, felt her listening. She hadn’t come out on the porch—smart girl. She’d stayed behind the screen door back in the shadows, out of sight, and he hoped she had sense enough to stay put. He didn’t know if she could hold herself back now Edditha stood in the middle of this confrontation.

  Buck eyed the blackguard, deducing the arrogant son-of-a-bitch had Jo and Birdie or had a hand in whatever fate had befallen them—why else would he be so cocksure of himself? He couldn’t be certain of anything, but a gut feeling told him McDaniel had a hand in every piece of bad luck that had befallen them of late. All this time he’d thought it was Nils Norquist pulling the strings, but it would appear Norquist was McDaniel’s victim, too.

  Buck glanced to the side and caught Rafe’s eye. His friend nodded, and Buck knew Rafe had come to the same conclusion.

  “Let’s quit dancing around. What do you want, McDaniel? What do you have that I want? And what’s in this proposition of yours for me and mine?”

  McDaniel pulled a snow-white, lace-trimmed kerchief from his coat pocket and mopped his forehead and sweaty, red neck. “The sun is hot, Mr. Buxton, won’t you invite me in? We’ll talk over a glass of something cool like civilized people and find mutual benefit, I’m sure.”

  Buck looked into the sun. Maybe an hour past noon. The boys could show up any time now. With any luck, they’d have the girls with them. McDaniel obviously thought he had the upper hand. Buck counted on his boys, counted on his girl and Birdie. They were all smart, all self-reliant, and fighters.

  No, better to stay out here in the open, in the sun, where they could be seen. Van and Gabe might otherwise ride into a trap. Buck prayed they had the girls with them—he had to place all of his bets on Gabe and Van. They would be his ace. If they had the girls, then the fancy bastard didn’t have any cards at all.

  “Hmm, no, I think I’m comfortable right here,” he said with a smirk twitching at his lips. “How about you, Rafe? You okay out here?”

  Rafe nodded, pulled his lips back, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. Buck made the challenge to McDaniel. “Say your piece. Let’s hear your proposition.”

  “Doreen, get Mr. Norquist a glass of water,” Buck ordered. “Edditha, go inside with Doreen.”

  Silently, he said, Go inside, and stay inside with Adella.

  Doreen stepped back toward the door at the same time one of the henchmen, a big, tall, giant of a man, grabbed Edditha, snatching her from Cornell’s grasp. While he wrestled with her as she kicked and screamed, the other thug, also big and burly, grappled with Cornell, who swung wildly at his attacker.

  M
cDaniel removed his cap and scratched his head with two fingers. “Oh, my, I hoped to go about this peacefully. But you will persist in resistance.” He took in a long pull of air, set his cap firmly on his thinning pate of red hair, puffed out his barrel chest, and gave his recommendation. “Foote, you and Patch escort the women inside. Secure them. Foote, you stay with them to make certain they don’t attempt to harm themselves by being foolishly brave.”

  “Oh, and Foote, relieve Mr. Bollo of his weapon, with force if necessary,” McDaniel said as the man McDaniel addressed as Patch escorted Edditha none too gently up the steps. He shoved Buck and Rafe aside, grabbed Doreen by the forearm, and pushed her through the opened screen door.

  Buck caught the nod Rafe had given Doreen before she went out of sight. He’d surrendered his rifle without resistance to the man called Foote. Cornell righted himself and took up his position on the step below Buck. Buck hoped Adella had herself well hidden. He didn’t know what she could do, but he didn’t want her presence discovered.

  McDaniel’s two remaining henchmen aimed their guns at them while they waited for Patch to rejoin them on the porch. Buck heard sounds of a scuffle going on in the house. Doreen wouldn’t surrender without a fight. Both he and Rafe knew it. He winced, as did Rafe, when he heard a yowl of pain. They were both familiar with Doreen’s favorite weapon, her teeth, she could tear and rip hide with those teeth. In time, silence prevailed, and Patch reappeared, limping, somewhat disheveled and nursing his right hand, blood dripping from his left ear.

  Patch stood guard beside McDaniel’s horse. McDaniel went to the far side of his mount to open his saddlebag. While McDaniel rifled through his saddlebag, inside the house Buck heard a distinctive wang and ker-thunk—the porch floor even shook a little. Rafe kept his eyes straight ahead, although his lips did twitch a bit.