“I intend to collect real soon,” Todd called back.
They promenaded farther down the sidewalk. “Did you hear what the sheriff said?” she asked.
“You mean the part about the ‘Fortunes of the Black Hills’?”
“Yes, I do believe you’ve been promoted.”
“I think you’re right. But I’m not my Daddy.”
“That’s the whole point. Todd Fortune, in and of himself, is a force to be reckoned with.”
He patted her hand. “I think that’s a wife talking. I don’t know if I did anything all that special. I just sort of blundered us in a tight fix and stumbled my way out of it.”
“Did you even think that maybe that’s the way the Lord leads all of us? In the shadow of his wings.”
“It keeps a man from getting a swelled head. I trust I never do anything that dumb again.”
They stopped outside the hardware store. “The reluctant hero. It fits you well,” she swooned.
“Would you like to come in and tell windy stories around the stove?” he offered.
“My word, no. I’m walking straight up to Columbia’s house. We’ll have some hot tea, and then . . . we’ll tell some windy stories!”
He squeezed her hand. “I love you, Mrs. Fortune.”
“And I do truly love you.”
“Will we have lunch together, or shall I have that beef chop with Seth?”
“By all means, have lunch with the sheriff. I’ll stay at Columbia’s. That new gal of theirs is a truly great cook. I’m glad I talked them into hiring her.”
“How about Dacee June? Where will she eat?”
“She talked Mrs. Speaker into eating Chinese food with her down at Ah Lee’s.”
“They’re going into China Town?”
“Yes, what a pair. I understand a certain thirty-year-old stagecoach driver eats all his meals there.”
“May the Lord have mercy on him and protect him ‘until these calamities be overpast,’” Todd offered.
He walked through the front door of the hardware store and smelled hot coffee and heard familiar voices.
“Daddy?” he called out.
Brazos Fortune brushed back his long drooping mustache. “Now, here’s a lad that has some explainin’ to do.”
Four men gathered around the stove . . . one in a wheelchair, one in a plaid wool suit, and two with three weeks of unshaven stubble and dirt sprawled across their faces. “When did you get in?” Todd asked.
Brazos peered over a tin cup of coffee. “Last night.”
“But when?”
“We rode in about midnight and you can’t imagine how surprised I was to find two women and a little girl livin’ in my house,” Brazos chided.
Todd thought his father looked a little shorter than he remembered. “That’s Abigail Gordon, her mother, and daughter. What did you do for a bed?”
“I slept on the couch up in your office. It’s a whole lot softer than those lousy Bighorn Mountains.”
“I take it you two didn’t have any luck . . . hunting.”
Yapper Jim stood up and slapped his hands together. “There’s two million people in those mountains already. You can’t turn around without stepping on someone’s claim. And there ain’t no gold there, that’s the funny part. Oh, they might find some up in Devil’s Canyon, but we stumbled on a band of Crows that convinced us to come home.”
Brazos rested his right hand on his holstered revolver. “Quiet Jim said you had a little ruckus while I was gone.”
Todd glanced over at the man in the wheelchair. “He took the bullets. All I did was what had to be done. You know how that is, Daddy.”
“Yep . . . I do. And I’m proud of you, son, for runnin’ ’em down.” Brazos turned away from the stove and rubbed his beard, slipping a finger up to the corner of his eye. “It was my job to take care of, and I wasn’t here. I was out runnin’ around like some gold rush fool. Good thing I got a kid who’s smarter than me.”
“Ain’t nothin’ you could have done that Todd didn’t do,” Quiet Jim added. “Besides, I got another healthy baby and Columbia’s doin’ fine. Are you telling me I had a bad month?”
Brazos took a long slow look at everyone around the stove. “No,” he finally roared. “I’ll tell you who’s having a bad month. It’s Professor Edwards here. Have you ever in your life seen a more horrible looking suit?”
Grass Edwards frowned. “It’s quite the style in San Francisco.”
“It looks like curtains down at the Green Door,” Yapper Jim blurted out. “Not that I’ve ever been there, mind you.”
“You boys jist go ahead and vent your jealousy,” Grass said. “As I was telling the governor of California . . .”
“The governor?” Brazos whooped.
“He and his lovely wife attended several of my lectures.”
“Why? Is his life so boring that your lecture was more interesting?” Yapper Jim hooted.
Todd glanced at the four men, each one over fifty. “I know why Quiet Jim’s sitting there with a big smile on his face. There are tall stories once again being told around the stove at the hardware. Things are back to normal in Deadwood.”
Quiet Jim’s smile peeked cautiously out of his leather-tough face. “Even in a wheelchair, it seems good, real good.”
“I’ll have to agree with you there, but I’ve got a store to run,” Todd announced. “Whenever you run out of stories, I’ll tell you about Mrs. Gordon . . . and the man who wanted to buy the hardware.”
“I hear you cold-cocked old man Olene and now he’s going to build a store and put us out of business?” Brazos said. “Quiet Jim filled me in some. I surely wish I could have been here to turn him down in person.”
“You didn’t see the offer.”
Brazos glanced at the men drinking coffee. “There ain’t enough gold in the Homestake to be worth the value sittin’ around this stove.”
“That was my appraisal, too.” Todd had just reached the counter at the back of the building when a short man with a brown plaid suit, round hat, and crisp bow tie entered the store. He watched as the man marched up to Dub Montgomery. Todd strained to hear the conversation.
“Excuse me, I’m Hawthorne Miller, and I need to see . . .”
“The Hawthorne Miller, the writer of dime novels?” Dub quizzed.
The man pulled a long, almost black cigar from his vest pocket and bit off the end of it. “Yes, and I would like to speak to Mr. Fortune.”
“He’s back at the woodstove.”
Todd’s eyes followed the man toward the stove.
“One of you men Mr. Fortune?” Miller probed, looking each over.
“That’s me,” Brazos offered.
“Nice suit,” Grass Edwards commented.
“Eh, yes . . . and the same to you,” Miller mumbled.
“Thank ya,” Grass beamed.
“You a drummer?” Brazos inquired.
“No, I’m a writer. Hawthorne Miller’s the name. Perhaps you’ve heard of me.”
Brazos shook his head. “Can’t say that I have. What can I do for you?”
Miller hesitated while he lit the cigar. “I might as well come right out. I didn’t think Todd Fortune was quite as old as you are.”
“Todd’s my oldest boy,” Brazos announced. “He’s the one over at the counter runnin’ the store.”
Miller glanced at Todd and tipped his hat, then turned to the men near the woodstove. “Nice meeting you, gents. I hope to write a book about Mr. Todd Fortune’s recent exploits. It’s certainly nice to meet his father.”
Miller strolled toward the counter at the back of the store.
Todd’s eyes locked briefly onto his father’s.
You heard him, Daddy Brazos. You are Todd F
ortune’s father. You thought you’d never see the day that you were defined by who your children are, did you?
To tell you the truth, neither did I.
Look for Samuel Fortune’s story in
Book Three
Fortune of the Black Hills
The Long Trail Home
Shadow of Legends Page 25
