by Sara Orwig
“Most of them live on the southern plains now. My people are in Texas.”
His answer shocked her. He was as far from his home as she was from hers. She thought of Texas as a wild place, hundreds of miles south and more of a lawless frontier than Wyoming. The cowboys who rode into town bringing cattle up from Texas were a wild bunch. Why hadn’t Travis Black Eagle returned to Texas?
“You said your mother and your brother were taken by the soldiers. Where’s your mother now?” Crystal asked, prying, but too curious to keep quiet.
“She died before the war and my brother and I got separated during those years.”
“So you fought in the war?”
“Yes, for the Confederacy, but no one out here asks.”
She became silent for a few miles. People on the frontier didn’t ask questions that they would have back home because too many people on the frontier were hiding or fleeing from something they had left behind. Plagued by curiosity about Black Eagle, she wondered what he had fled from. She couldn’t imagine him hiding anything; he seemed too direct and forceful. And she didn’t want questions asked about her own past, so she felt uncomfortable asking him, although her curiosity persisted.
“It wasn’t your war. I’m surprised you got involved in it instead of returning to your people,” she murmured. He stared ahead, his profile to her, and as her gaze ran over his features, she remembered him stretched beside her on the bed last night.
Shifting his weight, Travis stared at the wagon ruts ahead that cut two swaths through the short grass. The clop of the hooves of the horses blended with the creak of the wheels. The judge was filled with questions, and he could give her the answers he had concocted years earlier. It had been so long since anyone had asked him about his past that he wondered if he remembered the story he had usually given.
“By then my father had been killed and the government was taking land from my people and trying to move them. Our way of life was disappearing and I could see that once the war was over it might vanish completely. We lived near a fort and I saw the weapons and the supplies the soldiers had.”
“The Confederacy wasn’t as well off.”
“Maybe not, but by joining them, I had a chance to fight the soldiers who had torn my family apart and taken my heritage from me.”
“Were you a scout?”
“No,” he answered, amused. Of course she would think the only thing an Indian would be allowed to do was scout. He caught her looking at him, her green eyes wide in surprise, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. “I was a captain when the war was over,” he answered dryly.
“My goodness!” she exclaimed. “A captain!”
“You didn’t think it was possible, did you, Judge?”
“I’m just … surprised,” she answered and fell silent.
He felt a ruffle of anger over the prejudice that he always faced, but shrugged away the irritation. Crystal was not as biased as many people. He suspected she held more grudges against men in general than Indians in particular. And he suspected the judge was not only a stickler for law and order, but was also honest to a fault. What in her life would she have ever had to hide?
His thoughts drifted to his land and the livery stable. He needed to spend more time in town next week. The stable was lucrative while his cattle business was just starting. Turtle River was as reliable as a man could be and Zachary was learning fast.
The past three weeks of married life had been strange, but not as bad as Travis had expected. He reflected on the nights when he had sat on the porch in the gentle rain and listened to the judge play the piano and sing. Her voice was flawless with a beauty to it that eased away the worries of the day. It was good to hear a woman’s voice lifted in song. And she seemed attentive and captivated by his son, Jacob. He would have to remember to think of the baby as Jacob now and not merely Son. Jacob Irwin Black Eagle.
Travis liked the name and he knew Elizabeth would have approved. He glanced at the judge who sat fussing with Jacob, her black bonnet hiding her face from Travis’s view. Her fingers were long and slender and looked delicate as they fluttered over the infant. He had made a good choice, she was going to be a good mother. She had grit and he admired that. He had already known she had grit, but it had surfaced again yesterday when she kept a cool head about the fire. Thank heavens he had been working close by.
The moment he’d heard the shots, his fear had been that something had happened to Jacob. And then as he raced home, he’d seen the gray plume of smoke curling and known it was fire, but he’d been terrified Jacob might have been caught in it. Then he’d seen the judge swinging a wet sack, beating the flames as vigorously as possible.
Travis glanced at her again. She should have married some man who would have loved her, but how would she find that out here? Most men he knew were scared of her or disliked her intensely, disapproving of a woman serving office and sitting in judgment over men. Most of the men he knew disapproved of women having the vote or being able to hold office, even though few ladies wanted to hold office. He admired strong women, although there were moments he wanted to give the judge a good shake because of her stubborn, blind-to-reason views on the law.
His people’s women were strong. Comanche women had to be strong to survive, and sometimes the elders asked their opinions and accepted them, but most white men he had encountered didn’t want a woman to have power over them. Most of the men around here resented her being a judge.
She was smarter than half the men in Cheyenne—if not more than half, Travis thought uncomfortably. He himself could do a lot of things—take care of animals, run the ranch and stable—but he had only a couple of months of schooling.
They rode in silence, finally drawing in sight of Cheyenne. He glanced at her again, unable to see her face for the bonnet. He knew she was eager to get back to town and to her courtroom. He preferred his days at the ranch to the ones at the livery stable, but the stable was supporting the ranch at this point and Turtle River could run the ranch.
Travis stopped in front of the courthouse and jumped down, going around to help her. She had placed Jacob in the cradle in the bed of the wagon and he was protesting, his cries carrying loudly and drawing the attention of people along the street. Travis swung her down easily. She was far taller than Elizabeth, but willowy and as easy to lift as a child.
She blushed anytime he touched her, and he thought of her Judge Spinster nickname that still seemed to fit even though she was now officially Mrs. Black Eagle. And Judge Black Eagle. That would never cease to amaze him.
“What time will you be finished here?”
“At the end of the day. I’ll walk down to the livery stable.”
He nodded and climbed back into the wagon, lifting Jacob into his arms before picking up the reins to drive away. “Try not to hang ’em all, Judge,” he said lightly, touching the brim of his hat with his finger in a farewell salute.
Consternation filled her as she stared at his broad shoulders. Did the man have such a low regard for the law that he could be so flippant about her task? She took a deep breath and went inside, suddenly feeling more sure of herself and at ease in the familiar building that was Cheyenne’s courthouse.
By the end of the day Crystal was thinking about Jacob and longing to see him. She called forward the last name on the docket.
Gower Colby was charged with intoxication, brawling, disturbing the peace, and attacking Deputy Thomas. She listened attentively to the deputy’s testimony as Clarence Hoyt prosecuted the case and then she heard one of Cheyenne’s lawyers, Elwood Briarly, plead Gower’s case.
When she levied fines and sentenced Gower, he suddenly stood, pushing back his chair and knocking it to the floor with a bang that made her jump.
“No! No damn squaw is sending me to jail!”
Shocked, Crystal banged her gavel. “Sit down, Mr. Colby, before I fine you for contempt of court!”
Elwood Briarly and Deputy Thomas got Colby back in his chair and she restated the se
ntence and fines, banged her gavel, and dismissed court. Swiftly, she left the courtroom.
As she removed her robe in the tiny room that served as her office, she heard a knock at the open door. Sheriff Hinckel stood there. A full six inches shorter than her husband, the sheriff still seemed imposing to Crystal. As he entered her office, his bulky shoulders almost brushed both sides of the door.
“How’s the new bride?” he asked.
“Fine, Sheriff.”
“I heard Gower Colby. I was in the hall.”
Embarrassed, she shrugged. “He’s in jail now and that’s that.”
“Judge, I was a friend of Ellery’s and I’ve known you since you moved here. You don’t have your brother now, so I’ll speak frankly to you in his stead. Your new husband is a halfbreed, and a lot of people in town don’t like redskins. Gower isn’t going to be the only one to give you trouble.”
Dumbfounded, she stared at the sheriff. “My husband being a half-breed has little to do with me,” she said stiffly. “I was born and raised in Baltimore and am as civilized as anyone in this wild town.”
“I know you’re civilized, ma’am,” he remarked patiently, shifting tobacco from one cheek to the other. “But your husband’s heritage has a lot to do with you since you married him. You heard Gower. There’s a lot of people here who, from now on, will see you as a squaw. Nothing else.”
“That’s absurd! Mr. Black Eagle lives the same kind of life most of the people here live. He left his people a long time ago to follow the white man’s way.”
“He’s Indian, and that’s all some people see. You married a redskin, so you’re a squaw.”
“I just can’t believe that!” she exclaimed, certain the sheriff was wrong.
“Ma’am, if I were you, I’d use your maiden name—Judge Spencer, not Judge Black Eagle. People will take more kindly to it. And you’re going to find a problem when you go into town to shop. Wilbur Throckmorton won’t allow Indians or their families in his store, so the dry goods will be closed to you and your husband.”
Shocked, she stared at the sheriff. “You mean I can’t purchase material from Mr. Throckmorton any longer? That’s impossible.”
“I thought I might save you some embarrassment. It’s Wilbur’s store, and he can refuse anyone he wants.”
“Mr. Throckmorton won’t refuse my business. He’s always been friendly.”
“Don’t push things, Judge. You’ll just get that new husband of yours into a fight … or worse. And he needs business at his livery stable. After all, his isn’t the only livery in town and he isn’t the only smithy. First ripple of trouble, and your husband’s business will be gone.”
She ran her hand across her head. “I can’t imagine …”
“If you can’t, then you have less prejudice than a lot of people. Ellery didn’t care about the color of a man’s skin, so I suppose it’s natural that you don’t either; but that’s not the case with a lot of folks. Some of these people have lost their families to Indians. They hate a redskin more than anything on earth. Ask your husband. He’ll tell you. He’s a damned good farrier, so people tolerate him. And he packs a mean punch, so that saves him some trouble. Just be careful, Judge. He walks a narrow line.”
She nodded as the sheriff left her office. Tying her bonnet beneath her chin, she gathered her reticule and papers and left her office, closing the door behind her.
Disturbed by the sheriff’s words, she shopped, going down her list, telling Clem Mandeville at the general store that Mr. Black Eagle would pick up the items later. As she approached Wilbur Throckmorton’s dry goods store, she debated whether to push the issue or wait. Remembering the sheriff’s warnings, she walked on, her head high. How could people be so spiteful and filled with hate? Would Wilbur Throckmorton turn away Jacob later?
She stopped stone-still in the middle of the boardwalk as this new worry about Jacob mushroomed. The son would face the same prejudice as the father.
“Afternoon, Judge,” a voice said pleasantly, and she answered perfunctorily without seeing the person who passed her. Rooted to the spot, she stared into space, upset and distracted.
Little Jacob would face the white man’s hatred of Indians. She bristled. He was one-quarter Indian with a white mother and a white grandmother. He was born to civilized people, not out on the prairie. She thought about his dark skin and eyes and raven hair. He looked as Indian as the most full-blood she had ever seen. Her worry knotted like a tangle of yarn. She could cope with townspeople who disliked Black Eagle. And he had long ago learned to deal with them or he wouldn’t have a solid business. But the thought of Jacob being treated badly tore her apart. She wanted Jacob to be able to learn law when he grew up or follow whatsoever path he chose.
“Judge, you all right?”
She looked up as the clerk from the banker’s office approached her. “I’m fine, Mr. Clarendon. Just trying to remember what was on my list to purchase.” She moved on, feeling the clerk’s curious brown eyes on her.
When she reached the livery stable, she forgot the cases she’d had, forgot the angry cry of squaw from Gower, forgot the sheriff’s warnings. She wanted to see Jacob and hold him. And she hated to admit it, but she wanted to see Travis Black Eagle as well.
He was working at an anvil, bare-chested, a leather apron tied around him. His broad chest gleamed with sweat as he pounded on a horseshoe. Her mouth went dry and her insides clutched while heat washed over her. He looked primitive, male, and powerful—all qualities that she once would have expected to frighten her, but fright was far from what she felt now.
His head raised and his dark eyes looked into hers. Her heart stopped. Nodding, he went back to pounding on the horseshoe. Fascinated, she watched the flex of muscles in his shoulders, the bulge of smooth biceps.
“It’s cooler in the office,” he said with a jerk of his head.
Gathering her wits about her, she fled, hoping he hadn’t noticed her stare.
“Howdy, Judge,” Andrew Cain said carefully, giving her a half-hearted smile. His blond hair looked like straw whipped in a wind and she wondered if Andrew had had a difficult day. He glanced at Jacob, who was in the cradle, cooing and kicking. “Busy little fellow.”
“I’ll watch him, Andrew,” she said, and Andrew jumped up as if he couldn’t wait to escape.
“Thanks, ma’am. I’ll work out front.”
He fled the office, and she wondered whether he wanted to get away from her or he had had to spend the day with Jacob and wanted to be free of the baby. Through the open door she could see Travis working. She turned her back, admonishing herself. She had to stop staring at the man before he noticed the effect he had on her.
“How’s my baby?” she asked, bending over Jacob. He smiled and kicked and cooed as if he recognized her and her heart leaped with joy. “You sweet thing,” she said, picking him up and holding him close. He reached up with tiny fingers to touch her chin.
Talking to him, she walked around the desk and glanced at the open ledger spread before her. The words were printed in large letters that were easy to scan.
She was accustomed to keeping books for Ellery, and for her grandfather before Ellery. Her gaze ran swiftly over the writing and columns. Startled, she looked at the figures again and glanced through the open door at Travis. The livery stable did far better business that she would have guessed. Since she had never used his services for anything, leaving the care of the animals to Ellery, she had no idea how profitable a livery stable could be, but this one was doing well indeed.
Well-enough that she realized she had married a prosperous man, although she had never thought of Travis Black Eagle that way. At least, not until she had found the boxes of money in his drawer.
Of course, the ranch might be draining away the profits of the livery stable; she had no way of knowing about that. Where was the ledger for the ranch? she wondered. If he kept such neat books here, he surely did there; yet she hadn’t seen any ledgers and she had scoured every inch of
the log house. She turned her attention back to Jacob, thankful to be with him again.
Black Eagle worked long past the supper hour and sent Andrew to Lathrop’s cafe to bring back dinners for all of them. Black Eagle ate his as he worked and she had no idea where Andrew ate. She sat in the office with Jacob while she ate delicious hot roast and fluffy potatoes with golden gravy—her first supper in how long that was not burned to a crisp.
It was almost dusk when Black Eagle closed the livery and they drove the wagon back to the two-story stone Addoms & Glover Drug on West Sixteenth Street. Black Eagle made purchases and then drove to Clem Mandeville’s general store, which was still open. The breeze had cooled, and she left her bonnet off, unbuttoning the top three buttons of the black dress that was as hot as a woolen blanket wrapped around her.
“I’ll get your purchases and I have a few of my own. Want to come in with me?” Black Eagle asked her as he stopped the wagon in front of the open door of the store.
She glanced back at sleeping Jacob and shook her head. “I’ll wait right here. No need to disturb the baby.”
Black Eagle glanced at the saloon two doors down. Banjo music floated through the open doors and he hesitated, but then he turned and strode into the store. She sat quietly waiting, startled when two men burst through the saloon doors and staggered in her direction.
Recognizing the stringy blond hair of one and the grizzled features of the other, Crystal drew a deep breath, lacing her fingers together and staring straight ahead, hoping the men wouldn’t see her.
Eight
Virgil Shank and Slim Tipton guffawed loudly. Feeling uncomfortable and prickly, Crystal glanced at the store and could see Travis just inside the open door. He was kneeling down by several large sacks of flour. On more than one occasion she had sent both Virge and Slim to jail for drunkenness, and she suspected they despised her.
“Lookee there.” Virge’s voice carried easily to her ears. “Can you believe someone up and married old Judge Spinster? Man must have been blind desperate for a woman.”
