A Claim of Her Own

by Stephanie Grace Whitson

  “Tsk, tsk, Mattie”—he shook his hook at her, a teacher scolding a student with an iron finger—“bitterness isn’t a very attractive quality.” He pointed his hook at his own face. “See what it’s done to me?” He laughed. A hideous sound. “But I digress. Tie the tent flap open before you sit down beside your young friend, my dear. Your neighbors won’t be a bother, and we’re going to be a while.”

  Neighbors … what had he done to the McKays? Her hands trembled as Mattie obeyed him. Please. God. Please help. Send someone. Once she was seated beside Freddie’s still form, Jonas chuckled. With the morning light streaming into the tent, his ravaged face and tattered condition were even more shocking. He would have been pathetic were it not for the searing hatred in those pale blue eyes.

  “Dear, sweet Mattie. You forget how easily I can read your face. After all, I’m the one who taught you all about faces. Ironic, don’t you think, in light of what you’ve done to mine?” When she frowned, he explained. “If it weren’t for you, I would still be in Abilene. If it weren’t for you …” He ground out the words at first, but as he moved along the litany of things Mattie had done to him, his tone intensified until Jonas was dancing just at the edge of self-control.

  Let him scream at me, Mattie prayed. If he screams someone might hear … someone might come. But Jonas broke off abruptly, and when he spoke next, his voice was quiet. Sinister. Deadly. He shook his head. “Poor Mattie, I’m afraid no one’s coming to help her.” He nodded toward the McKays’ claim. “As to your concerns for your neighbors, I’ve dispatched them with a special concoction. Drinks around the fire with a nice old codger who remembered the homeland was just the thing.” He affected a brogue. “Yous never saw the like of it, sweet lass.” He sighed. “I dragged them off to bed, where they’ll stay for … oh, long enough for you and me to finish our business.”

  He gestured toward Freddie. “Now, Freddie was a bit of a challenge. I knew he wouldn’t drink with me. So I had to knock him out. Happily, I was still able to pour enough of my special brew down his throat to ensure he won’t be a problem, either.” He smiled. “So you see, Mattie, we’ve plenty of time to get reacquainted.” He tilted his head. “To reestablish the boundaries. To, shall we say, negotiate.”

  “Negotiate?”

  “Yes. My terms for releasing your friend. Maybe even for letting you live.” He cackled. “Who knows? Anything could happen up on Mattie’s Claim.” Spittle flew from his lips as he talked.

  He might not kill Freddie. God, he said he might let him go. Tell me what to do. Tell me what to say. How can I save Freddie? She reminded herself again that emotion would only fuel Jonas’s propensity for diabolical creativity. She touched the place on her arm where a hookshaped scar remained as a souvenir of the night she’d learned that begging Jonas never earned mercy. And so she begged heaven. Help me. Help me. Help me.

  Calm washed over her. Lifting her chin, she spoke. She sounded calm. Free from fear. “I’ll do whatever you want. But Freddie has nothing to do with you and me. He’s never hurt anyone. He shouldn’t have to suffer for my sins.”

  Jonas licked his lips. “I see you’ve acquired a new vocabulary— no doubt from that preacher you’ve been spending time with.” He echoed her words. “ ‘He shouldn’t have to suffer for my sins.’ Hmmm. That’s very sweet.” The slit in his face curled up in a hideous smile. “Mattie has a soft spot for the village idiot.” He winked. “You shouldn’t play your hand so soon. You’ve shown a weakness I can exploit. I taught you better than that. Didn’t I?”

  He leaned forward and once again his voice dropped and the words ground. “Didn’t I teach you well? Didn’t I take you in and feed and clothe you? Delectable food. Silk and velvet. The finest gowns. And for that”—he touched his hook to the cheekbone she’d cut with her ring—“you gave me this.”

  The scar was no longer evident amongst the furrows clawed by smallpox, but Mattie knew what he was talking about. “I didn’t mean to cut you,” she said. “I only wanted you to keep your promises to Mam. To give me my money and let me go.”

  “Ah, now we’re getting to the heart of it,” Jonas spat out. “The money.” He swiped at his mouth with his sleeve.

  “Three hundred dollars was a pittance compared to what you said I’d earned.” A plan was forming in her mind. “But if this is about money, I can give you as much as you want.”

  “Really?” He leaned back and rested his hook atop the shotgun. “Tell me, Mattie, exactly how much money do you think it will take to give me a life back … to restore this?” He turned his face from side to side, jutted out his mottled chin, mugged as if he were posing for a photograph. When she was silent, he nodded. “Yes. You’re right. There isn’t enough money in the world. And as for the money you took, three thousand was considerably more than you’d earned, even if I was going to agree to what the ledger said.”

  Mattie frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I took three hundred dollars. And that’s all. I even left the ring behind.”

  He shook his head. “Now, now … lying’s a sin. You’re making me very angry.”

  Her mind racing, Mattie thought back to that night. She replayed it aloud. “I was afraid you were going to kill me for—” she pointed to his cheek—“for that. And so while you were gone getting it stitched up, I grabbed a wad of bills out of your dresser drawer and ran. There was no plot to rob you. I didn’t even know how much it was until I got to the train station and counted it. Three hundred and forty-two dollars.” She remembered it clearly. “Think about it, Jonas. Why would I lie to you now?” Suddenly she knew. She gasped, “I think I know what happened.”

  “This is proving to be even more entertaining than I’d anticipated. Please continue.”

  “I ran into Flo when I was leaving. Literally ran into her. I was in such a hurry I didn’t see her on the stairs. We almost tumbled down them, but she grabbed the railing and I-I just kept going. But she had to know I was running.” She swallowed. “Think about it, Jonas. Flo had every opportunity, and you know how she hated me.” She paused. “She’d stolen from you before. I remember the night you caught her rummaging in your room.” Even now that memory made her shudder because of what Jonas had done next.

  When Jonas said nothing, Mattie continued. “Is she still working for you?” She saw the answer in his eyes. “When did she leave? Was it right after I did?” He didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. “Oh, Jonas … you followed the wrong girl.” She could tell he was pondering it. Somewhere in the far reaches of whatever logical mind he had left, he had to know it was true.

  And then, as quickly as she’d deduced the truth about Flo, Mattie realized she’d made a mistake. Jonas was already blaming her for everything that had happened to him, and now she’d convinced him that he’d followed the wrong girl. As the truth of what she was saying hit home, a new level of rage flickered in Jonas’s eyes, rage fueled by despair and a sense of hopelessness. She spoke up. “Three thousand dollars doesn’t begin to cover it, does it? I can give you more. Just say how much.”

  He snorted. “You’re missing the point. This isn’t about the money anymore. It’s about betrayal. And ruination. It’s about what you have done to me.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Dillon and I just wanted a different kind of life. That’s all. It wasn’t about you. We just wanted to be on our own.” She kept talking, soothing, trying to appeal to any sanity that might still exist inside the wounded brain. “But that’s the past. You said we would negotiate now. Let’s negotiate.”

  Jonas swung the barrel of the rifle toward Freddie. “I’m getting bored.” His finger locked on the trigger.

  Dear God, he’s mad… . What can I do? … What can I do? An answer came, and the instant it dropped into her conscious mind, the calm returned. “You can have it all,” she said.

  “All of … ?”

  “All of Dillon’s gold. All of mine.” Jonas’s finger moved away from the trigger. Her heart pounding, Mattie said, “This
claim is rich. It’s been paying out for months. No one knows because I’ve kept it all right here.” She patted the cot. “It’s right here and you can have it all in exchange for Freddie’s life.” She forced reason into her voice and prayed she sounded convincing. “You could buy a new place. A palace. A man’s face doesn’t matter if he has enough money. You taught me that, and you know it’s true. I can make you richer than you’ve ever dreamed.”

  But how will he get away? The solution came immediately. “You can take the McKays’ mule. I’ll help you load the saddlebags. No one in town will come looking for me, Jonas—not until you’ve gotten away. They all knew I was planning on working the claim today. They knew Freddie was coming with me. You can be far away before anyone even finds us.”

  He smiled. Leered. Chuckled. “You’d do that? Just to see old Jonas gone from your life?”

  “I would owe you my life,” Mattie said. “And Freddie’s.” She shrugged. “It would be a fair trade.”

  He was thinking about it. Considering. Finally he said, “Let me see it.”

  She nodded. “It’s beneath me. There’s a cache under the bed. We’ll have to move Freddie.”

  “Well, aren’t you the clever one.”

  “Not me. It was Dillon’s idea. I was here for weeks before I found it. But I’ve added to it. I’ve added a lot.”

  “How much?”

  “Let me show you.”

  He stood up and pressed his back against the canvas wall, gesturing with the shotgun. “So show me.”

  “You have to help me move Freddie.”

  “Oh, I think you can figure out a way to do that. Just move slowly. It would be a shame to have to kill him now, just when you and I are considering a satisfactory conclusion to our negotiations.” He smirked.

  Somehow, Mattie managed to roll Freddie off the cot. His prone body barely fit in the space between the edge of the cot and the little stove. She had to reach over him to lift the bedframe and prop it up. She pointed at the iron plate. “Can you see that? I have to slide that over.”

  “Then slide it.”

  She did. And waited.

  “Surely you don’t think I’m going to be stupid enough to bend over that hole. Bring up whatever’s in it. And if there’s a gun hidden down there, pull it out first, where I can see it.” He pressed the barrel of his gun to Freddie’s temple. “And rest assured that in the time it would take you to take aim, I’d dispatch poor Freddie here into the next life.”

  With trembling hands, Mattie lifted the bottles of gold out of the cache. When they were lined up along the earth, Jonas surveyed them with a smile. “Well, now. How about that. Matt the Miner has done well. Very well.”

  She pointed to the leather bag around her neck. “You can have this, too. The snow’s melting fast. You can get away without leaving much of a trail. I know you can do that, Jonas. You were a sniper in the war. You know how to do things.”

  “Not everything.” His voice was terrifying.

  With all the emotional strength she could muster, Mattie looked up at him and said, “I’ll help you get away.”

  He chortled. “Oh yes. That’s a wonderful idea. That’s just what Jonas wants. Another taste of the same witch who ruined his life.” He spat at her. “I don’t want you, Mattie. I want to destroy you. I want you to pay for what you’ve done to me. Not just once, but over and over again.”

  “Then take me with you. You can finish with me … later.” Just let Freddie go.

  He was thinking it over. Thank God he was actually thinking it over.

  “Go get the mule,” he said. “And no screaming for help.” He pointed the gun at Freddie again. “Hurry.”

  Mattie scrambled to her feet. Her hands were shaking so badly she could hardly get the beast bridled and saddled. When she finally did, it didn’t want to follow her up to her claim. Jonas stood in the doorway watching. Laughing. “I’m getting tired of waiting, Mattie,” he sang out.

  Slipping in the snow, she tugged desperately on the bridle. Please. God. Jesus. The mule took a step. Then another. Finally they were at the tent. Mattie loaded the bottles into Dillon’s old saddlebags. Once they were in place behind the saddle, she turned back to where Jonas waited. She risked one glance toward where she’d tossed her gun, and with a loud shout, he was on her, screaming, “DON’T—EVEN—THINK—”

  He grabbed her shirt-sleeve with his hook and yanked her back inside the tent, throwing her down on the cot with such force that it knocked the air out of her. As she lay there trying to catch her breath, he leaned down to touch her cheek with his hook. His breath stank. He stank. She met his eyes for a moment before glancing over at Freddie again.

  Jonas sat back. “You really do care about that boy, don’t you?” His voice gentled. He crooned her name, and then his face changed. Something about the light in his eyes … how could they look more evil? And yet they did. Mattie shrank back. Help me help me help me.

  Abruptly, Jonas stood up. “On second thought, there’s a better way to hurt you now than a little encounter with a hook. Better, even, than making you come with me.” He straddled Freddie’s unconscious body.

  It was too much. “No!” Mattie screamed. “Please, Jonas, please … God. NO!” She charged him, but he tossed her aside. Her head hit the corner of Dillon’s storage chest. Just before the darkness overcame her, she saw Jonas lift and aim the shotgun … heard it go off … and she cried out to God one last time.

  “Mattie? Mattie, wake up.” Someone was cradling her head in his hand, patting her cheeks gently. “You need to wake up now.”

  Mattie opened her eyes, but she didn’t believe what she saw.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Here, let me help you sit up.” Freddie lifted her upright. He handed her a tin mug. “He said to give you water when you woke up.”

  “He? He who?” She blinked and looked around the empty tent, squinting against the sun streaming in through the open flap.

  Freddie sighed. He motioned for her to drink. “Drink.”

  Mattie drank. She felt so … odd. She kept looking at Freddie … remembering … trying to make some sense of where she was and what had happened. Hadn’t she seen Freddie … heard … She began to cry.

  “Shhh.” Freddie patted her shoulder. “It’s all right now. Shhh.”

  “You … He … I heard …” she blubbered.

  “I know,” Freddie said. “There was a terrible man here. An evil man. He hit me on the head and then he made me drink something.” He looked around. “But he’s gone now and he won’t be coming back. The angel said so.” Freddie shrugged. “At least I think he was an angel.”

  “Angel?”

  “Yes. When I woke up the bad man was gone. You were laying over there.” He gestured toward the place where she’d fallen when Jonas threw her. “And there was another man untying me. He didn’t have wings, but he said, ‘Don’t be afraid,’ and he put his hand here.” Freddie spread his palm across his broad chest. “I felt so much better after he did that. And then he said not to worry about you or the McKays or anything. And you’re all right, aren’t you, Mattie, and so are the McKays. See?” He pointed out of the tent.

  Mattie leaned over then, and peering outside, she saw that Freddie was right. All three McKays were hard at work on their claim. She started to get up. “I owe them for a mule. I should ta—” Her hand grasped the edge of the canvas running along the open flap, but she didn’t take another step. The mule was tethered to the same tree the McKays always used as a hitching post. Frowning, she looked back at Freddie. “But—”

  “I told you he said not to worry. He said the mule would come back soon and it did. He said you would be all right and you are. So we won’t worry.” He turned to leave, motioning for her to follow. “But we should get some help and go after that bad man so he can’t hurt anybody else. I wish Deadwood had a sheriff but someone will know what we should do now. Maybe Mr. Underwood or Mr. Langrishe.”

  “I … I …” Mattie crossed to
the supply box and plopped down. She took a deep breath, realizing Freddie was right. Jonas was clearly mad. He couldn’t just be allowed to escape. What might he do to someone else? And why can’t Aron be here to help us? She forced herself to nod. “Yes. We should get help.” But she just sat there, trying to make sense of things.

  Freddie smiled. “You don’t believe there was an angel, do you?”

  Mattie shook her head. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t believe you.” She smiled up at him. “If there’s one thing I know—and I don’t know very much right now—it’s that you wouldn’t lie to me.”

  “It’s okay.” Freddie patted her shoulder. “Angels are hard for people to believe. It’s sort of like gold mining.”

  She looked up at him. “Gold mining?”

  “Well,” he said, gesturing toward the creek, “you can’t see how much gold there is, but you’ve seen some and so you believe there’s more. We can’t see God. Or angels. But after today—” He shrugged. “God will dump more faith out. You’ll see.” He grinned. “The angel said you’d want to know that.”

  “Know … what?” Her mind reeling, Mattie could barely choke the words out.

  “About gold and mining and God dumping out faith.” Freddie motioned toward town. “We should go now. If we hurry and get help I bet we can catch the bad man before it gets dark.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Give thanks unto the Lord, call upon his name, make known

  his deeds among the people. Sing unto him, sing psalms unto him,

  talk ye of all his wondrous works.

  1 Chronicles 16:8–9

  They had been back on the trail for nearly one full day. “Leif! Lars! Pull harder, you beautiful, strong, bellowing, hungry beasts! Pull harder and faster, and I vill give you de best hay I can find and maybe retire you to pasture up nort.” Swede cracked the whip above their heads. The snow was melting quickly, and the problem of deep drifts had been replaced by a more familiar one— mud. Everyone wanted to make as many miles as possible before the thaw created more. And everyone wanted to see Deadwood. But no one as much as she did.