Shadow of Legends

by Stephen A. Bly

  He opened the front door slowly. Dacee June sat on the parlor floor reading a book to two children who seemed to be fast asleep on a blanket at her feet. She waved to him but kept reading in a soft, low voice. Todd walked lightly toward the kitchen where Rebekah was washing dishes.

  “Evening, Mrs. Fortune,” he said.

  Rebekah pulled her hands out of the dishwater and began to dry them on a tea towel. “You had a long day.”

  “I hope Carty made it up the hill to warn you that I’d be late.”

  “Yes, he said the steel plating came in and you needed to deliver it to the mines.” She took the clothes from his arm and laid them across the back of a kitchen chair.

  “Only half the order arrived.” Todd opened the lid on the coffee­pot and peeked inside. “So I split it among the three biggest customers.”

  “Were they happy about that?”

  “Partially. They all need the remainder of the plating.” He slumped into one of the kitchen table chairs. “We’re a long trail from suppliers, no matter what direction you travel. Someday the railroad will finally decide that Deadwood is here to stay and they’ll build a line to us. Then we can get things more quickly.”

  She started to say something. Instead, she turned back toward the counter and retrieved a plate. “I’ll fix your supper. I hope you didn’t mind if we went ahead and ate.”

  “Of course not. What were you going to say?” he prodded.

  “About dinner?”

  “About something else.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Rebekah?”

  “It was a foolish thought about railroads.”

  “You were about to say that plans had already been made to bring a railroad into Rapid City, weren’t you?” Todd challenged.

  “I suppose. But then I got to thinking it would be too much like nagging. Anyway, it’s been a long day for all of us. That discussion can wait for another day.”

  Todd looked down at a bowl of boiled cabbage, potatoes, and leftover ham chunks. “I’m surprised to see the children still here. I take it that means that Columbia is no better?”

  Rebekah stepped over and rubbed the back of his neck. “I paid her a visit this afternoon and . . .”

  Todd let his shoulder slump but didn’t look back at her. “You went out across town by yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  “All the way to Ingleside?”

  “It’s only a couple miles. I hailed Mert Hart’s hack.” She stopped her rubbing. “You act like I never leave my house. Do you want to hear how Columbia is or not?”

  “Most definitely,” Todd replied as he reached for the pepper grinder.

  “The doctor says she must stay in bed until the baby is born. He’s afraid the child is in the wrong position.”

  “Is it . . .” he paused and glanced over his shoulder at Rebekah. “Could this be dangerous for Columbia?”

  “Having a child is always life-threatening. But the doctor didn’t seem alarmed.”

  “I suppose it puts a strain on Quiet Jim.” The cabbage tasted flat, but Todd knew he was far too tired to care.

  “He has that lumber mill running so smoothly, he hardly needs to supervise. So he’s spending most of his day taking care of Columbia and baby Sarah. Dacee June has agreed to take Quint and Fern for now.”

  “That will be a large assignment.”

  “Yes. I told them I’d come by each day right after lunch and give Quiet Jim a break. You don’t mind if I spend the afternoons in Ingleside?”

  Todd reached his hand back and pulled her around to his side. “I would appreciate it greatly if you did. You know that Quiet Jim is just like family to us.”

  “There’s no ‘just like,’ Todd Fortune. Quiet Jim is family. He misses having Yapper Jim and Daddy Brazos in town.”

  “I reckon those two are out there pretending to be Lewis and Clark, exploring new territory.”

  “I think the sheriff misses them, too,” she added. “I suppose you heard about that shooting in Terraville?”

  “What shooting?”

  “A storekeeper and his clerk were shot by a couple of bandits.”

  “I was over at Central City and didn’t hear anything,” he said.

  “The sheriff just found out late this afternoon. He wanted Quiet Jim to go with him, but he couldn’t leave Columbia. He came up here looking for you.”

  “He did?” Todd slurped a spoon of soup broth. “He’s so desperate he had to look for the reserves?”

  “I told him you were out on deliveries. I suppose he rounded up some others.”

  Todd fished out a bite of sweet ham, then stared at it on his spoon. “Am I going to get a lecture on how dangerous life is in the Black Hills?”

  It was a voice of peaceful resignation. “Life is dangerous. Anywhere. Anytime. It’s the legacy of sin that we brought into this world.”

  “Spoken like a Baptist preacher. You’re beginning to sound like a natural-born Fortune,” he said.

  “Yes, it’s frightening, isn’t it?”

  “I like it.”

  Rebekah brought two cups of coffee to the small table and sat down next to him.

  “We had quite a day. Important decisions were made,” he commented.

  “At least, for the time being,” she corrected.

  “Oh?”

  “Everything is up for review from time to time. Did you ever look at Olene’s proposal?”

  “I didn’t have time.”

  “Well, I did,” she reported. “He is making an incredibly generous offer for the store.”

  “But he won’t agree to help people rebuild after a fire.”

  “Why not write that into a counterproposal and see what happens? You never know what you will get.”

  The knock brought both children out of their nap with a cry. Todd scurried to the door.

  A breathless Carty Toluca pranced on the porch. “Someone broke into the store, and I can’t find the sheriff anywhere! The window’s busted, and the front door is kicked in!”

  Todd grabbed the shotgun by the front door and took the steps two at a time. Dacee June held her long denim skirt up over her ankles and clamored after him, which left Rebekah with two whimpering, sniveling children.

  “Is anyone still in the store?” Todd hollered to Carty several steps ahead of him.

  “I couldn’t see . . . it was too dark in there. I didn’t want to go in alone.”

  Only the kerosene street lantern at the corner of Lee and Main Streets lit the deserted sidewalk. Behind him, Todd could hear the usual shouts and songs of the badlands. Several of the cluster of small window panes on the Main Street window were shattered.

  Todd examined the busted lock on the front door.

  “What if they are still in there?” Carty asked.

  “Have you got a gun on you?” Todd asked the clerk.

  “I have a pistol. Do you want me to go in with you?”

  “You stay here at the door. Don’t shoot anyone, unless they try to shoot you.”

  “How about me?” Dacee June asked.

  “Do you have a gun?” Todd replied.

  “Yes!” She reached in her pocket and retrieved the revolver. “I’ll go with you.”

  “You’ll go across the street and watch.”

  “I’m not afraid,” she pouted.

  “I am. I need you to watch. If there’s gunfire, I need you to run for some help.”

  “Who do I fetch? The sheriff’s out of town.”

  “Eh, go get Quiet Jim. He’ll know what to do.”

  Todd entered the dark building and immediately turned to the wall-mounted lantern next to the front door. Lord, if someone’s in here with a gun, they are going to take a shot at the person n
ext to the lantern. I wish I knew if someone’s in here. But then, there are a lot of things I wish I knew . . .

  He put himself between the darkness of the store and the lantern, then struck the sulfur match on the rough cedar wall. He lit the lantern, turned down the wick, and stepped toward the shadows.

  Well, I haven’t been shot at yet . . . that’s a good sign.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The first sound of gunfire from Main Street brought Rebekah Fortune to the window. At the second and third shots, she scurried out to the porch. In the gulch, below the safety of Forest Hill, she could hear horse hooves thunder. Fern was in her arms. Quintin trotted out and clutched her skirt. The June evening air was still mild, but a shock of chill slid down her back. Her hands trembled as she rocked the baby back and forth.

  Fern whimpered.

  “It’s all right, Darlin’ . . . it’s all right . . .” The words rolled off her lips like a chant by a scared kid walking through the cemetery.

  It was not the first dark Dakota night when gunshots had been heard in Deadwood. If the ground-shaking rumble of stamp mills in Lead were the bass section of the Black Hills orchestra, gunshots in Deadwood were the trumpet section, often carrying the tune.

  Rebekah had heard shouting, screams, and curses before.

  That was the frontier.

  Gold towns.

  Sudden wealth.

  Impetuous passion.

  Unanticipated anger.

  And instant violence.

  “Fire works?” Quintin asked. His chubby hands patted his ears.

  Rebekah stroked the fine, wild hair that darted in all directions from the top of his head. “Well, Darlin’, I don’t think anyone’s celebrating the Fourth of July . . . in June. There are no fireworks tonight.”

  Looking down Wall Street, she could see men running southwest along the shadows of Main Street.

  Men in boots don’t run anywhere, unless it’s a disaster. They aren’t going toward the badlands. It’s at the store. Oh, Lord, watch over them!

  A cold sweat beaded Rebekah’s forehead as she paced the porch and fixed her gaze toward Main Street. Quintin staggered to keep up.

  “Moon!” Fern shouted and waved her arm to the east.

  Suddenly, Rebekah felt like all the attention in the universe was focused on the hardware store . . . and she couldn’t see what was going on.

  I can’t take this, Lord. This is not for me. I don’t operate like this. I like the quiet. Peaceful, sunny days. Harmonious voices. Where people respect each other, and hatred is restrained to the heart.

  Oh, Lord . . . protect Todd . . . and Dacee June.

  There’s no more shooting.

  Is everyone dead?

  I didn’t hear a shotgun, did I?

  Then Todd didn’t get a chance to shoot.

  She began to gasp, fighting to control her breathing . . . and her tears. The girl in her arms began to cry.

  “It’s okay, darlin’ . . . it’s alright . . . he’s safe . . . no one got hurt . . . someone was just hurrahing town.” She tried to take a deep breath and hold it. It didn’t work. “Oh, God . . . oh God . . .” she sobbed, and returned to the house.

  I’m so scared, Lord. I’ve got to go down there . . . children and all. I can’t wait! . . . I have to wait. This is not good.

  Rebekah marched right into the kitchen and sat Fern on the floor next to Quintin. She washed her face, then led the children into her bedroom. “It’s time to go to sleep, punkins . . . come on . . . I’ll get you ready, and you can sleep in our bed.”

  She changed both children into flannel nightshirts. She felt so removed from what was taking place in the room, it was as if she was watching herself take care of the children. Fern lay still but watched Rebekah’s every move with big round brown eyes. Quintin didn’t bed down that easy.

  “No, I want my bed!”

  “You aren’t going home tonight, darlin’. You’re going to stay at our house.”

  “Dacee-une!” he protested.

  “I know you miss your Dacee-une . . . she’ll be back in a minute.” Rebekah’s heart pounded so severely she could only speak a word or two before running out of breath. “Now you . . . stay under the covers . . . with Fern.”

  “No, I want up!” Quintin pushed the covers back, and squirmed out of the tall bed.

  “No you don’t, Young Man. Back to bed. You are going to mind me, and you are going to mind me right now,” she snapped.

  She shoved his shoulders back, but he giggled and ducked under her hands. Relax, Rebekah. Don’t take it out on the children. Oh, Lord, I’m losing control. I’ve never lost control in my life. You promised to send Your Comforter . . . well, I need Him . . . and I need Him right now!

  Quintin squirmed under the clutch of her hand on his shoulder. “I want my own bed.”

  “We’ve gone through all that before.” She scooped him up and wanted to throw him back on the bed. Instead, she let out such a deep sigh the trembling in her hands ceased. She laid him gently down. Fern watched everything intently.

  “Quint, I know this isn’t what you were expecting, but I’m just a little scared right now. So I need you to help me, alright? What do you do when you get scared?”

  His voice was very soft. “Mommy reads to me.”

  Rebekah brushed his bangs off his forehead. “OK . . . I’ll try. You go in the parlor and find a book.”

  Quintin slid down out of the thick-mattressed bed and scampered out of sight.

  Fern reached out her stubby little arms. “Hug me!”

  “You’re right about that, young lady; we all need a hug.”

  Rebekah crawled on top of the covers, lay down on her back, and hugged Fern with her right arm. Soon, she had a child on both arms. Quintin held the book, but after about three pages both nodded off. The kerosene lantern flickered shadows across the hammered copper ceiling.

  Why hasn’t someone returned to tell me what’s going on? Maybe it wasn’t at the hardware, but next door. What if they don’t know anything about this and are merely sweeping up the store? What if all this worry is for nothing?

  What if they’re all dead?

  Lord, Your will be done. There are so many things in this life that I have absolutely no control over. I can’t let them terrify me and imprison me up here in this house anymore. I’ll do what I can and leave the rest to You. I can hug children and read them stories. I know that much.

  She heard a dog bark on Williams Street. She strained to hear footsteps that never sounded.

  Lord, we can’t stay in Deadwood. I’m not going through this again. There are some women who grow stronger during trials and hardships. But I’m not a pioneer woman. I did not choose to come out here. I came with father. Lord, remember how I cried when we left Chicago?

  I know I’m weak. Maybe I shouldn’t have married a westerner. It’s not fair to Todd. He needs a stronger woman. But oh how I love that man.

  There has to be a place somewhere that fits both Todd and me. But I don’t know if I could handle Rapid City . . . or Cheyenne . . . or any other place any better.

  How can I plan the future when I don’t know what’s happening down there? I wish I was strong. I wish I could grab a pistol, hike down the hill with a child at each hand, and go to the aid of my husband.

  “What did you do when you heard the shots, dear?”

  “Oh, I hid in the bed behind some friends’ children.”

  Rebekah’s chin started to quiver.

  “Get behind me, Satan! I have the peace of Jesus!” She hugged both children and was surprised that neither woke up at her outburst.

  What if these were my children? What if I was left a young widow with children? That would be so tragic.

  The silence of the house stabbed at h
er mind.

  There are worse things, Rebekah Fortune. What if I’m left a widow with no children at all?

  Cold tears slid down her cheeks.

  I don’t have any children, Lord. We’ve been married almost four years and I don’t have any children! I can’t believe I put myself in this position. You are a selfish, presumptuous prig, Rebekah Jacobson Fortune! What if something happened to Todd? What if you never have his child? That would drive me insane. If we are going to live here, I am not going to live this way.

  Lord, give me a chance to make it right. Bring him back.

  Quick! . . . before I die of worry.

  The footsteps on the porch caused her to sit straight up between the two sleeping children.

  It’s not Todd. It’s Dacee June.

  Her hands shivered. “Thy will be done . . .” she mumbled as she scooted to the end of the bed. She was so careful to not wake up the children that she hardly noticed when the trembling ceased.

  At the first gunshot, Todd dove behind the barrel of strap hinges. There was a woman’s shout and two more shots as he rose to his knees and aimed the shotgun toward the darkened street.

  Horseback riders galloped toward Shine Street.

  Everything was quiet.

  “Carty!” Todd yelled out the broken window.

  “I’m here!”

  “Are you shot?”

  “No. Are you?” Carty yelled.

  “No. What about Dacee June?”

  “She looks OK. She’s coming across the street now.”

  “Who did the shooting?” Todd hollered.

  “Two men on horseback.”

  “Are they still there?”

  “They rode off.”

  Todd crept toward the door, turned out the lantern, then stepped outside carrying the shotgun in front of him. He could hear footsteps approach from the dirt street. “Lil’ Sis?”

  “I’m OK,” she called out in the darkness. “How’s Carty?”

  “I’m alright. Thanks for giving me that warnin’ shot,” he replied.

  “What warning?” Todd asked. Suddenly Dacee June appeared alongside him, carrying her pistol in her hand.