A Claim of Her Own

by Stephanie Grace Whitson

  The horse was another matter. He’d have to get rid of it. Removing his saddlebags and bedroll, he backed away lest the creature lash out at the sudden noise, pulled his gun from its holster, pointed it toward the sky, and pulled the trigger. With a terrified scream the bay charged away. Jonas watched it go with a satisfied smile. Who knew where that horse would end up. It was a fine animal. Anyone who found it would be likely to keep it and hope no one came looking.

  Tossing his carpetbag behind an outcropping of rocks, Jonas picked up his bedroll and his saddlebags and headed for Deadwood. He’d get a room, place the ad about Mattie in the Pioneer, and lie low while he waited to see if anyone responded. There’d been a new arrival at the Green Front when he had been in there before looking for Mattie. A petite brunette with an air of innocence about her. He hadn’t had any feminine company in far too long. The brunette would do.

  “You can do this, Mattie,” Tom said, and closed the ledger book they’d been poring over. “It’s not hard. Just be patient with yourself about the ciphering and check your numbers each night after you close.” He paused. “And here in town I think you should consider taking the Colt out of your pocket and tucking it at your waist again. In plain sight. Especially when you walk over to make the bank deposit at the end of the day. Make a deposit every day, and don’t be shy about being seen. We want it known there’s no gold kept in the store overnight. Ever.”

  Mattie nodded. “I understand, but I still don’t like the idea of just locking the place up and heading off to my claim. What would you say to my asking one of the McKays to help out while you’re gone? Not as a storekeeper—just as a guard of sorts. I’d have them sleep in the storeroom.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I’ve already asked someone to keep an eye out for you.” He glanced toward the street. “And here he is now.”

  Mattie frowned. Why wasn’t Aron going with Tom and the others? He was likely the best shot in town except for Wild Bill— but then, Tom probably didn’t know that. Clearly Aron hadn’t volunteered the information, either. And if he wasn’t going to ride out with Tom and the others … then why couldn’t he mind the store and leave her to work her claim? “If Aron can mind the store,” she said to Tom, “you don’t need me.”

  “Aron’s taken work enlarging the living quarters behind Underwood Hardware. I knew Swede would be relieved to know that someone was guarding both the store and the temporary storekeeper.” Tom smiled at her. “And, frankly, so am I.”

  Mattie wanted to protest. Wanted to say she didn’t need guarding. But the truth was, if she wasn’t going to be up on her claim and out of the public eye most of the time, maybe she did. It had been three months since she’d left Abilene, and part of her wanted to believe that Jonas would have turned up by now if he’d followed her. But she couldn’t be sure. The old tightness still returned to her midsection sometimes, and even though it wasn’t the grip of fear she’d arrived with, she realized that knowing that someone trustworthy was still in town when everyone else was leaving was comforting. Aron was more than just a trustworthy man. He knew how to handle a gun. And, if she let herself admit it, the idea of his watching over her wasn’t all that unattractive for other reasons, too. Reasons she didn’t want to think about right now.

  Tom and Freddie and a band of about two dozen other riders left Deadwood on the last day of July. If all went well, they’d meet up with Swede’s wagon train on their return trip and be back in Deadwood at the end of August.

  “Thank you for suggesting this,” Tom said to Mattie as he and Freddie mounted up. “And for making it possible by offering to keep the store open.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Be sure and check all the locks before you go upstairs every night.”

  “I will.”

  “And don’t forget to deposit—”

  “—the day’s earnings in the bank every day.” Mattie nodded. “And check and recheck my work on the ledger. I know.”

  “And don’t forget that those sacks of flour at the back of the storeroom—”

  “—are part of the stock you’ll need this winter, so don’t sell it.”

  Freddie spoke up. “Stop worrying, Tom. Mattie is smart.”

  Tom blanched. “I’m sorry. I just—”

  “I understand. This place is important to you. I’ll do my best with it until you and Swede get back.”

  “I know you will. I just want Swede to be pleased with what she finds when that finally happens.”

  “As I said, I’ll do my best. Now go.” She shooed him toward the trail. “Be a hero. Deadwood could use one.” As the men rode away, Mattie smiled, picturing Swede’s expression when she saw Tom riding toward her. Swede was going to light up like a heroine in a novel being rescued by her prince.

  He’d always been strong, able to fight off anything, but this time—this time Jonas barely had the strength to lift his head off the mattress. He couldn’t stop shivering. The fever must be high. He hadn’t had anything to eat today, but that was all right, because starting yesterday he hadn’t been able to keep anything down. He didn’t care about finding Mattie anymore. He didn’t even care so much about the missing money. He cursed her and her thieving ways. He cursed the sick lowlife he’d encountered out on the trail— who’d likely given him whatever this was. He cursed Deadwood and the Black Hills and the lumpy mattress and the threadbare blankets. As he lay shivering, all Jonas wanted was to get back to Kansas.

  But another day passed, and still he didn’t feel better. He kept shivering and vomiting, and then, sometime in the middle of the second night of this infernal sickness, the pain woke him up. Pain like he’d never felt before. Pain as if a strong hand with a hammer were working over his joints. As for his back, that was more like an entire crew of carpenters pounding nails. His groaning finally roused the ire of whoever was in the next room. Someone called for the doctor. Jonas was too sick to care what the man said as long as he got some relief. But then the doctor said smallpox.

  CHAPTER 16

  The secret things belong unto the Lord our God: but those things

  which are revealed belong unto us and to our children for ever,

  that we may do all the words of this law.

  Deuteronomy 29:29

  Mattie had dug a hole halfway to the bedrock and was rejoicing over her progress when Justice yapped and tore off down the gulch, his tail wagging. The surprising surge of joy she felt at the sight of Aron climbing the gulch toward her abated as soon as he was close enough for her to read his expression. Setting her shovel down, she pulled her gloves off and waited. When he was close enough that she didn’t have to shout, she swallowed hard and said, “Somehow I don’t think you walked up here to have afternoon tea.”

  “Afraid not.” He motioned toward the campfire. “Let’s sit down for a minute.”

  Swede. Tom. Freddie … Indians! She searched his eyes, troubled by the depth of sorrow she saw there, and blurted out the question. “Who? I’ll sit down in a minute. Just tell me who.”

  “Wild Bill.”

  Dumbfounded, Mattie just stared at him. She could read the rest of it in his eyes even as she croaked, “Dead?” When he nodded, she gave a little cry of disbelief and stumbled to one of the logs by the fire to sit down. Justice whined and came to sit beside her. He leaned close, his tail flopping once or twice in the dust as he looked up into her face. When she absentmindedly reached out to the dog, he snuggled closer. In spite of the animal’s warmth she could feel through her work pants, she shivered. “How? Who?”

  Aron sighed and sat down beside her. “Shot.”

  Mattie shook her head. “Wild Bill couldn’t have been shot. He was too good. Too fast.”

  “It wasn’t exactly a fair fight. The way I hear it, a drifter with some sort of grudge sneaked up behind him while he was playing poker at the Number 10.”

  “You and I both know that can’t be what happened. He always sat with his back to the wall.”

  Aron nodded. “Exc
ept for today. Today one Jack McCall walked up behind him and—”

  The two of them sat quietly for a few minutes. Finally Mattie muttered, “I hope he didn’t suffer.”

  “Doc says he probably never knew what happened. One second here—the next in the afterlife.” He paused. “Charlie Utter claimed the body. There’ll be a service tomorrow. I’ve been asked to say a few words.”

  “Poor Calamity,” Mattie said. “She’ll be devastated.”

  “She’s tearing around town like a wild woman screaming for vengeance and saying they don’t need a trial, everyone knows who did it and McCall should be hanged by sundown.”

  “Western justice,” Mattie murmured. Thinking she’d said his name, Justice yipped softly and licked her hand. Mattie patted his head. “Do you think Mr. Utter would mind if I sang something— for Bill?”

  Aron cleared his throat. “Bill isn’t the only reason I’m here. There’s a sickness down on North Main. Seems to have started with a drifter holed up at the Green Front. It’s spreading. The doc thinks it’s smallpox.”

  Just the words sent a chill through Mattie. She’d had a regular customer once who’d survived his encounter with the dreaded disease. He was one of the gentlest men Mattie had ever met, and yet, even knowing the man beneath the mass of pits and scars that formed his face, it took effort to look at him without shuddering with revulsion. Jonas had had to pay the girls extra to entertain him.

  “So,” Aron said, “while I understand your wanting to be at the funeral, I’m thinking it would be better if you stayed up here on your claim for now.”

  “But the store—”

  “The store can be closed until the town decides what to do. Many of the businesses have closed up already. Swede and Tom will understand.”

  “What’s to be done but ride it out?”

  “Well, if it’s really smallpox, we’ll put up a pest tent. Quarantine the sick. Try to keep it from spreading.”

  “A pest tent? For how long?”

  He shrugged. “The doc doesn’t know. He says no one can. It runs its course, and until it does—”

  “But Tom trusted me to take care of things. And Swede needs the money.”

  “Folks can be contagious before they even know they have it,” Aron said, “and you can catch it just by taking a breath within ten feet of a victim.” He paused. “Swede wouldn’t want you doing business when any customer could end up giving you a life-threatening disease.” His voice was gentle as he pleaded, “Please, Mattie. Just stay up here and work your claim. I’ll see that you get supplies.”

  “But what about you? If it’s so contagious—”

  “I’ve been around it before. Apparently I have an immunity.”

  “You don’t have any scars.”

  “I don’t know why. I just didn’t get it.” He reached over and touched the back of her hand. “I know Bill meant a lot to you. It’s a terrible thing to have him go this way. I’ll make it a good service. I promise.”

  She stood up. “I know you will. And I’ll sing.”

  At least he didn’t try to order her to stay put. Instead, he tried a different argument. “You want everyone to know he was your friend? That’s going to cause folks to talk.”

  “Then they’ll talk. It can’t be helped.” She forced a smile. “Besides, Bill said you had my back, remember?”

  “I can’t protect you from smallpox.”

  “Then help me protect the store. You can’t just put a Closed sign on the door and expect people to honor it. Especially if things get really bad. Someone has to make sure no one breaks in.” She was making sense and Aron knew it. She could see it in his eyes. “I’ll stay off the streets if that’ll make you feel better. As soon as I sing for Bill.” She paused. “He was my friend once at a time when no one else had the guts to—” She shook her head. Tears threatened as she said, “I’m coming to show my respects. Please don’t fight me on this.”

  Aron’s expression softened. He nodded. “All right. I won’t fight you. But I will walk you there, and I will expect you to stay behind closed doors at the store for at least a few days after that. You may not realize it, but you have friends who care about you now. And they’d never forgive me if I didn’t do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

  As she changed for the trip into town, Mattie considered Aron’s words. She wasn’t used to having people tell her what to do because they cared about her. She wasn’t used to it … but she could learn to like it.

  Died in Deadwood, Black Hills, August 2, 1876, from the effects of a pistol shot, J. B. Hickok (Wild Bill) formerly of Cheyenne, Wyoming. Funeral services will be held at Charlie Utter’s camp, on Thursday afternoon, August 3, 1876, at 3 o’clock P.M. All are respectfully invited to attend.

  Charlie Utter’s notice in the newspaper had invited “all,” and as far as Mattie could tell, “all” had come, from sporting girls and gamblers to business owners and their families. Hundreds of miners turned out, and as they filed by Bill’s open coffin with their hats in their hands, Mattie saw more than one swipe tears away. Even the Underwoods were there, although it was obvious Mrs. Underwood did not approve. She walked past Bill’s coffin without a glance at the famous man’s body. When her daughter Kitty paused to stare, her mother positively yanked on her arm, forcing her to keep moving.

  Mr. Utter began the service by thanking everyone for coming. And then he nodded at Aron, who began, “If there is anything we can learn from this tragic event, it is that none of us knows the hour when we will find ourselves on the other side of the thin veil that separates this life from the next. Who among us would have expected such an end for such a man?” Aron paused for a moment. “When a man named John wrote his version of the life of Jesus, he said that he was writing so that folks who read it could know that they would have eternal life.

  “I think it’s fair to assume that a lot of us here today have been shaken by what’s happened to our friend Bill Hickok. But among all the feelings of anger and shock, if we just listen to what John said, this horrible event can result in a lot of good for a lot of people.”

  He looked down at the coffin. “The Bible says that ‘it is appointed unto men once to die and after this the judgment.’ And when it comes right down to it, the only question we really have to know the answer to is this: what happens when we stand before the Judge?” He looked over the crowd. “You can know. God promises eternal life to all who believe in His Son. He promises eternal death to all who refuse to believe.” He held up his Bible. “ ‘These things have I written unto you that believe on the name of the Son of God; that ye may know that ye have eternal life, and that ye may believe on the name of the Son of God.’ If my friend Bill Hickok could talk to us right now, I’m pretty sure he’d have one thing to say to us all, and that would be to get things settled right now about where we’ll be when it’s us in that box and it’s our friends and family gathered to say good-bye.”

  Abruptly, Aron closed his eyes and began to pray. “Father God. Thank you for my friend Bill and for the way you are using him on this day to give us all a moment to reflect on our own situation. May we all do just that. Thank you for sending Jesus to make a way for us to get to heaven. Thank you for having John write it down so we could know it. Help us to pay attention. Amen.”

  Six men stepped forward. The coffin was closed and the men hoisted it to their shoulders and began the trek to Ingleside Cemetery. At the grave, Mattie began to sing as they lowered Bill’s coffin into the earth. She only knew one hymn, and she didn’t know all the words to that one, but she did her best. “ ‘Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved someone like me. I once was lost, but then got found. Once blind, I now can see.’ ”

  It didn’t seem enough, somehow. One verse of one song for such a famous man. Dillon’s grave was only a few feet away. Mattie hesitated, but then she thought, Why not? Bill had known Dillon, too. Had even stood between him and Jonas once and saved Dillon a beating. And so while hundreds filed past, some scoo
ping up a handful of earth and scattering it across the coffin, Mattie launched into “Mist Covered Mountains,” barely making it through the line that went, “they’ll give me a welcome the warmest on earth … in the sweet-sounding language of home.” When her voice wavered, Aron took her hand and squeezed it. She held on until she’d finished the song.

  When the crowd was finally gone and Mr. Utter and the pallbearers were shoveling the last of the earth atop the grave, Mattie said to Aron, “I hope there was someone over there saying welcome home to him.” She gazed over at Dillon’s grave. “To them.”

  “So do I, Mattie. So do I.” Aron dropped her hand. Together, they made their way back into town. Justice was waiting inside the back door of the store, tail wagging, puppy kisses abounding. Mattie declined Aron’s invitation to join him in Aunt Lou’s kitchen for a meal. Croaking a hasty good-bye, she closed the door behind her, sat down on the floor, scooped Justice into her lap, and let the tears fall.

  Angels. Jonas listened carefully to the singing. Not something he would have expected to hear when he crossed over. Likely he was hallucinating as they carried him toward the pest house. He wasn’t the only one suffering. At least half a dozen lay moaning around him. Did they hear the angel, too? He opened his eyes.

  The man next to him had already broken out with the rash. It didn’t look that bad. He didn’t seem to feel all that bad, either. He was just lying there, waiting. Pale. Eyes closed. At one point he opened his eyes and turned to look at Jonas. “Beautiful music, isn’t it,” he said. “Sounds like an angel.”

  Jonas was hurting too much to talk. Hurting … angry … and afraid. He’d always been considered handsome. But now—the specter of the scarred face of a regular customer down in Abilene would not fade.

  The fever returned. And the pain … oh … the pain.

  Red Tallent laughed. “You mean you still want to do this?”

  Swede glowered as she hung the sign on the side of one freight wagon that read Wanted: Cats. All kinds. Paying 25 cents each. “I am doing it” was all she said to the wagon master as they stood on Sidney’s main street.