After the Storm: Clean Historical Western Cowboy Romance Novel (Dawson Chronicles Book 2)

by Linda Bridey

  “Can I talk to you?” he asked him.

  Raven rose and walked with Art to a private spot.

  “I’ll get right to it, Raven. I love your girl. I lost my heart to her in France and what I feel for her gets stronger every day. I want to marry her, but I can’t because of that damn law,” Art said. “I wanna do right by her, but how can I do that if I can’t marry her?”

  “Have you asked her to marry you?”

  “No. I don’t think she’s ready for that yet, but even when she is, I can’t ask her. No pastor is gonna perform the ceremony,” Art said.

  A sly smile spread across Raven’s chiseled features. “There is one way, but it won’t be recognized by the law. How do you feel about having a medicine man marry you?”

  “You mean Mike?”

  “Yes. He can marry you and Hailey when the time is right. I know it won’t be a Christian ceremony or binding by law, but it will be binding in your hearts. Will that be enough for you?”

  “You mean the way Minx and Sonny got married?”

  “Yes.”

  “And that would be enough for you and Zoe?”

  Raven nodded. “Yes. It’s the way our people have done it for thousands of years. There were no pieces of paper to be signed or any priests or pastors. Our medicine men performed the ceremony, joining the two people together for as long as they wished to be. In most cases, it was a lasting relationship.” He stepped closer to Art, his expression turning slightly threatening. “I’ll be blunt. If you take Hailey’s virginity, you will automatically become her husband and I will expect you to take her as your wife and take care of her. If you aren’t prepared to do that, don’t cross that line. Are we agreed?”

  Art didn’t back down from very many people, Raven included, but he respected Raven’s right as a father to be worried about his daughter being disrespected. “Yes, sir. We’re agreed.”

  They grasped arms and then Art went to find Hailey. Raven gazed wistfully after him, thinking that he was losing another daughter. Now he knew how his father felt over not only losing Winona to marriage, but to her choice to stay on the reservation with her new husband. Looking across the clearing to where Winona sat with Brown Otter, her second husband, he thanked Wakan Tanka for bringing her back to them.

  His son, Dusty, walked across the clearing to him.

  “Did he ask you for permission to marry Hailey?” he asked in Lakota.

  Raven met Dusty’s dark gaze. “That is none of your business.”

  Dusty grinned. “Which means that he did. What did you say?”

  “You are as bad as Aunt Tessa,” Raven teased. “I gave him permission. He is a good man and he loves her. I do not know how many other men would because she is so fierce.”

  “I think they are a good match, too,” Dusty said, brushing his dark brown hair out of his eyes.

  It was still growing out from his time in the army and it was an annoying in-between length. He’d been proud to serve his country, but he’d hated having his hair so short. He also would have preferred to have been in battle, but Dusty was a realist and knew that while he was a good fighter, his clumsiness would have tripped him up somehow. When he was sparring at home, it didn’t matter, but in war there was no room for klutziness.

  Walking could be a challenge to him some days and Raven suspected that Dusty needed glasses like Zoe did. However, he knew that Dusty didn’t want to be the only Indian wearing glasses. He was going to talk to him about it again, but not just then.

  Raven looked up at the stars, wondering if he and Zoe’s youngest child, Runner, was doing the same thing. The boy had had a bad case of wanderlust and had taken off two years ago on his own version of a vision quest. He’d only been sixteen when he’d run away. He’d left a letter saying that the Paha Sapa, the Black Hills of South Dakota, had called to him and he needed to go see the ancient, sacred lands there. They’d searched for him, but Runner was as wily as a fox and if he didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be.

  They didn’t speak of Runner very often since they didn’t know where he was or even if he was alive. There’d been a few postcards from him, but they’d eventually stopped. He’d gone before the draft had been expanded to include men in Runner’s age group. They didn’t know if he’d joined the military or if he’d hidden out of defiance. One never knew which way Runner would turn.

  Although they hoped for the best, it was entirely possible that Runner had met with disaster due to his reckless nature. Speaking his name too much would bind his spirit to the Earth instead of letting it go on to the next life if he no longer lived. Raven had decided that if Runner hadn’t returned by the end of June that he and a few others would go searching for him again. Even if Runner wouldn’t come home, at least they would know if he was all right.

  Coming out of his depressing musings, Raven said that he and Dusty should join forces against some other card players since Dusty was skilled at gambling. It would be a good distraction. They walked across the clearing with Raven steadying Dusty when he tripped.

  *****

  Tim twirled Renee around out on the Watering Hole’s dance floor once she was off for the night. He was glad that she loved her new job so much. She had fun every night and she was making good tips along with a good salary. She’d informed him that she still intended to work after they were married—that was, until he was elected to congress.

  He loved the way she believed in him and wanted to work together to make things better for others. There were a lot of men who didn’t want a feminist for a wife, but not Tim. He wanted better opportunities for everyone, women included. He wanted the daughters he and Renee would have to be able to pursue their dreams without being discriminated against.

  Their wedding was set for the end of June. They were anxious for the time to pass quickly and yet enjoyed their time together. They’d agreed on no more intimacy until they were married, neither of them wanting an eight-month baby. After having known that kind of passion, this wasn’t easy, but they’d remained steadfast in their decision.

  The next night, Friday, was the high school graduation and they were both proud of their brothers and Snow Song for graduating with good grades. A big graduation party was planned at the community center for all of the graduates so Jake had given her the night off to celebrate with her family.

  As they danced, Tim kept glancing at the ring on her finger and smiling as he thought of the night of their engagement. He’d enjoyed the look of happy surprise on her face and the way her eyes had sparkled. He forced his thoughts away from the memory of what had occurred next between them. When he took her home and kissed her goodnight, he smiled inside as he thought that they were one day closer to their wedding.

  *****

  Skip sat in between Joey and Lyla Samuels, who was also graduating. He was nervous about walking to receive his diploma because he didn’t want to trip or do anything stupid. There were ten other kids graduating including Sam Wild, Moose and Katie’s second child, Jeff Samuels, son of J.R. and Chloe, and Olivia Taylor, Mason and Aiyana’s daughter.

  While their principle, Claire Samuels, gave a speech congratulating the students on a job well done and giving them encouragement to go on to do great things, Skip’s mind drifted away to the events of the past few months. He knew that Renee wanted to find her assailants and testify against them, but he wanted blood.

  When they’d been little, she’d kept people from picking on him and had been his best friend until he and Sawyer had become friends. She was still his best friend, just in a different way. There were things that he wouldn’t talk to anyone other than her about, not even Sawyer. He was happy that she was getting married because he wanted her to be happy, but he was sad for himself.

  He knew he could still go see her whenever he wanted to and he would be over at the Dwyers’ a lot since he was close friends with Joey, but it still wouldn’t be the same. His attention was brought back to the present when Joey got up to go get his diploma.

  Joey sm
iled and waved at the audience as he walked over to Claire.

  She laughed at his cocky attitude and thought about how much she was going to miss him around school the next year. She loved all of their students, but as in many cases, there were those students who touched a special place in an educator’s heart and Joey was one of them.

  “Congratulations, Joey,” she said, handing him his diploma.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Samuels,” he said, shaking her hand. “I’m gonna miss seeing you when I get sent to see you.”

  She laughed. “It’s a funny thing, but I’ll miss that, too.”

  He let her hand go and waved to the audience again, drawing laughter and loud applause before going back to his seat by Skip. The kids around him laughed, including his wife. She was called next and Joey clapped and whistled while she walked over to Claire, which made her laugh. When she came back, Joey grabbed her and kissed her, not caring who saw.

  “I’m so proud of you, honey,” he said.

  “I’m proud of you, too,” she whispered back.

  When Skip’s name was called, he was relieved when he made it across the stage without embarrassing himself. Claire was proud of Skip because he’d sometimes struggled in school—not scholastically, but socially. He’d been made fun of, but he’d persevered through it and had gotten good grades in spite of the days he’d missed when he’d been too angry to attend school.

  All of the teachers had tried to make sure that the other students didn’t ridicule Skip, but the teachers couldn’t always be around. She was glad that Skip had gained the friendship of Joey and a few other boys who always stood up for him. Skip could take care of himself physically, but his temper could turn dangerous and he sometimes couldn’t control it. Once, he’d beaten up one boy badly before he’d been pulled off of him.

  As a result, he’d begun running away from the situation whenever someone started something with him. He didn’t want to go to jail for assault so he avoided getting into that kind of trouble by walking away. Sometimes he disappeared for hours until he cooled down.

  Claire shook his hand. “Justin, I’m so proud of you and I’m going to miss you.”

  He smiled. “I’ll stop in to see you,” he said.

  “I look forward to it,” she said.

  He walked back to his seat, smiling when he heard his family and others cheer for him. He waved bashfully and sat down again. Lyla had so much family present that the auditorium was filled with noise when she went to collect her diploma. Claire proudly gave her niece the document and Lyla returned to her seat.

  Dawson’s school district wasn’t large, but their teachers were top notch and the students’ grades were generally high. Although there were only thirteen students graduating, there were many more students in the lower grades than ever before, requiring the hiring of more teachers. The school had added on two more classrooms because the other ones were too crowded.

  The ceremony ended and most of the crowd moved to the community center where the celebration commenced. Switch had been right about people still getting alcohol—moonshiners were making money hand over fist selling their homemade brew. When the party ended at the public venue, many home parties went on, some of them serving homebrewed spirits.

  It was also hard for the law to be enforced in private homes because the police needed a search warrant to raid a home. However, there had to be evidence of the illegal sale of alcohol before a warrant would be issued. The Dwyers were no exception in rebelling against the new law.

  One day, Joe remarked about almost being out of liquor to Black Fox, telling him that he was saving what they had for Joey and Snow Song’s graduation and Tim’s wedding.

  The chief said, “I will send someone to talk to you about this.” That was all he’d been willing to say about the matter.

  Watching his family and friends celebrating, Joe thought back to what had happened when Winona’s husband, Brown Otter, had shown up at the house a few days later, wanting to speak privately with Joe. Since he was deaf and Joe had never caught on to Indian sign very well, Brown Otter wrote in a notepad to communicate with the mayor. Joe smiled as he thought back to that day…

  “Black Fox says that you may not have enough liquor for your parties,” Brown Otter wrote.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Joe said, nodding.

  “I can help you with that. Do you have time to come with me right now?”

  Joe liked the mischievous glint in Brown Otter’s eyes. “Yeah. I can come now.” His curiosity was too strong for him to wait.

  “I brought you a pony to ride,” Brown Otter told him.

  “All right. Let’s go.”

  Brown Otter had taken him far out into the woods, past the big falls above camp. They stopped at what looked like a tangle of bushes and vines. However, Brown Otter pulled some of the vines back to reveal the mouth of an old mine shaft. As Joe slid off his pony, he noticed that some of the wooden supports had been replaced. He gave Brown Otter a curious look, but the brave just smiled and motioned for him to follow.

  Lighting lanterns along the way, Brown Otter stopped at a doorway several yards from the mine entrance. Opening the door, he lit another lantern and led Joe inside. Over in the far corner of the huge room stood a large homemade still. It was obvious that the room had recently been carved into the mountain, but the walls had been plastered over and whitewashed.

  Joe looked at Brown Otter in disbelief. “Is that your still?” he asked, pointing first at the equipment and then at the Indian.

  Brown Otter nodded and laughed at the shocked expression on Joe’s face.

  Joe let out a shout of laughter and clapped his hands together in glee. “I don’t believe it.”

  Brown Otter flashed him a grin and motioned for Joe to follow him again. Farther on down the shaft, they came to another door, which was padlocked shut. He opened the door and went into another recently created room, holding his lantern aloft. Joe stared in open-mouthed wonder at the bottles of what looked like whiskey lining shelves along one wall. On the other side of the room sat several barrels of what must contain beer.

  He’d been too busy looking around to notice Brown Otter pouring a sample of the moonshine. Joe absently took the glass that Brown Otter pressed into his hand. He raised it and downed the shot the way he would any other. It had a slightly different flavor than other whiskeys, but it was smoother than a lot of homemade whiskey Joe had tasted over the years.

  “Damn, that’s some fine moonshine, Brown Otter,” Joe said, giving him the Indian sign for good. He pointed over at the barrels and signed, “What?”

  Brown Otter took another cup over to one with a spout on the side and Joe watched as amber liquid flowed from it. His mouth practically watered at the sight of the beer. He took the cup and tried a sip. It was on par with many good beers.

  “How long have you been doing this?” he wrote on Brown Otter’s notepad.

  “Six years.”

  Joe’s eyebrows jumped up. “Six years?”

  Once again, Brown Otter had Joe follow him to yet another room that contained more barrels of beer and whiskey. He noticed that dates had been painted on the oak barrels.

  Brown Otter wrote, “We kept it a secret because the alcohol had to age first. I was going to start selling some to Jake once it was aged enough, but with the new law, I can’t now. I had to wait for the whiskey to reach maturity. It should go a little longer, but it’s not that long off that it can’t be drank now. The beer is from this past fall when we harvested the hops and barley we planted. I was going to sell some privately, too, but I can’t do that legally. I do not want it to go to waste.”

  “Me, neither,” Joe wrote. “Let me think.” He paced back and forth a few minutes. He’d been doing some checking into the prohibition laws, which stated that wine production was allowed for communion and other alcohol in small home-made quantities.

  The amount of alcohol Brown Otter had on his hands was more than a home-made quantity, but how could they make it seem
as though it wasn’t?

  He took the notepad again. “I need someone to translate. Let’s go see Black Fox.”

  Brown Otter nodded and they headed back to camp.

  Joe had been glad that Switch had been with the Chief at the time because his craftiness had come in handy. The plan he’d come up with was simple. If people came to camp and consumed some spirits, it was just among friends, with no money exchanging hands—at that moment. However, if people were to hand a few select people some money to give to whatever person they named from the tribe as a personal loan repayment, no one would be the wiser.

  Therefore, as far as anyone knew, Brown Otter only made small batches of homemade brews, which he shared with his friends when they stopped by. Joe laughed to himself at the cleverness of his unconventional friend. That way, they wouldn’t have to worry about setting up a secret establishment and risking discovery.

  The location of Brown Otter’s operation was still on the tribe’s land, so there was no issue about the land usage. This also meant that it could be kept a secret since only a few people would take the necessary ingredients there and retrieve the alcohol. Yes, it pleased Joe greatly to be able to skirt around the law that he strongly opposed.

  He drained the glass of beer he’d been drinking and then went to sing with the gang who’d come to provide music for them.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The day of Renee and Tim’s wedding, the sky rumbled, lightning flashed, and rain descended from the heavens in torrential sheets. Renee looked out the window at the horrible weather with dismay, hoping that it would clear off by the time she had to leave for the church. She wasn’t worried about superstition; she was worried about her hair.

  Then she remembered all of the cowboy hats in their costume room. If she wore one of those, it would keep the rain off her hair so that it wouldn’t be wet when she arrived at the church. Even with an umbrella, it could get wet if the wind blew strongly. She would pile all of her hair on top of her head and put the hat over it, thus protecting it.