Her Prairie Knight

by Kit Morgan

  Belle blushed. “Yes, we were.”

  “Terrible thing to be framed by your own kin, then left to rot in prison.”

  Belle gasped. “Framed? What do you mean, framed?” Up until now she didn’t think much about the time Colin spent in prison. The only one in town who fretted over it was Aunt Irene. No one else seemed to pay any mind to the fact. The town was incredibly happy to have the Cooke brothers back safe and sound from what she’d seen and heard. That alone told her some sort of false accusations were probably involved. But she wanted Colin to tell her in his own time and not ask out of her own curiosity.

  But she had to admit, to finally hear it, gave her a sense of relief.

  “Framed by their own step brothers, Jack and Sam. Terrible business, but over now.” He patted her hand. “Miss Dunnigan, please promise me you’ll keep my secret safe?”

  Belle looked at the people gathered around the bell. The men had finally removed it from the wagon and folks were touching it here and there as they admired their new town treasure. “I promise.”

  “Good! Now come see what else I’ve brought!”

  He led her to the crowd encircled around the bell. Colin immediately went to her. She looked shyly up, his interest quite apparent as his eyes once again locked with hers. She saw Tommy Turner hurrying their way but stop up short when he noticed the look Colin was giving her. Disheartened, Tommy kicked at the dusty ground in defeat before he began to back away.

  “You seem to have frightened off one of my suitors,” she said, smiling.

  Colin looked around, saw Tommy sulking, and chuckled. “He’s got a few years to go before he’s ready to take on a knight of my caliber.”

  “A knight? As in save the damsel in distress, slay a dragon, sort of knight?”

  “But of course.”

  “I don’t think there are any dragons around for you to battle.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised.”

  “Really? And what about damsels in distress? Are there any of those in this town to rescue?”

  “Perhaps. But let us hope she doesn’t need the kind of rescuing such as Sadie did. She and Harrison were lucky to come out of that particular rescue attempt alive.”

  “Mrs. Mulligan told me the story. Dangerous though it may have been, it’s all very romantic now.”

  He smiled. “Do you like romance, Miss Dunnigan?”

  “Yes, Mr. Cooke. I do.”

  He flashed her his warmest smile. Like she’d just given him a challenge. And Colin Cooke seemed just the kind of man to love a good challenge. “I shall remember that.”

  “Belle!” A voice called.

  “And speaking of dragons...” Colin began flatly.

  “We weren’t speaking of dragons, we were speaking of romance.”

  “Belle!”

  “So we were.” He said and took a step back.

  “Belle, you get yourself back to the mercantile this instant! You’ve dallied here long enough!” Aunt Irene snapped. “And you, Colin Cooke! Don’t you have cattle to take care of? It’s a wonder any work gets done around your place!”

  “Good morning, Mrs. Dunnigan.” Colin said as he tipped his hat. “Come to see what Mr. Van Cleet has brought?”

  She looked up at him and scrunched up her face. “I don’t care what Mr. Van Cleet has brought. Now get out of my sight.” “Auntie! How can you be so rude?”

  She spun on Belle. “I said get back to the mercantile.”

  Anger raised its ugly head in that moment. Heat flushed Belle’s face. Sure, Aunt Irene could be cranky, but it was no excuse for treating people poorly. “Where is Uncle Wilfred?”

  “He’s at the mercantile waiting for you. We have work to do!”

  “I’ll be along in a moment. I must tell Sadie I’m going.”

  “Let this riff-raff tell her,” her aunt said as she shoved Colin out of the way and grabbed Belle’s arm. She began to drag her off. Belle looked back to see Colin begin to stride angrily after them. She waved him away. She would take care of Aunt Irene herself. It was high time she did.

  * * *

  Jefferson Cooke rode into town slowly. Not because his horse was lame or he simply wasn’t in any hurry, but on account of the splitting headache he had from the night before. He tried to sit up a little straighter to hide the fact he felt worse than cow dung on a ... well, suffice to say he felt really bad.

  But he wasn’t about to let on and didn’t want to appear out of sorts in case Sadie saw him. He knew she must be in town. The wagon was gone. Which meant one of the boys brought her. Probably Colin. He seemed to be the appointed escort of late while Harrison and Duncan worked the new cattle. But Jefferson knew Colin would have his fair share of work waiting for him when he got back. He always did. Escorting Sadie to town meant he came in later than the others for supper. Maybe prison had taught his worthless stepsons a thing or two after all. But Jefferson had to wonder. Why didn’t Harrison drive her? He was the one married to her after all. Why did Colin always do it? Unless Colin had his own reasons for coming to Clear Creek. But what could be in town that brought Colin in so often?

  Jefferson pushed the thoughts aside. The ride from one end of town to Mulligan’s was excruciating and it was all he could do to stay on his horse. Not to mention sit up straighter and tip his hat when Mrs. Dunnigan passed him dragging a young woman along beside her toward the mercantile. Must be Wilfred’s niece. Mr. Mulligan had mentioned she’d come to live with the Dunnigans. Jefferson briefly pondered what the girl might have done to be saddled with the likes of Irene for an aunt. But then, what had he ever done to be saddled with three worthless stepsons?

  Duncan, Colin and Harrison would be the death of him. They’d bombarded his cabin, took his whiskey, and put him to bed. Nightly. Right after supper. All in the name of Christian charity and love. Oh what was the use? The fools were determined to sober him up and he wanted no part of it. No, none at all. At least they hadn’t found his hidden stash. Yet.

  But providence had looked out for him. He’d found solace in playing poker over the last week or two, and had agreed to meet with several men he’d played a few games with. They wanted to have a morning game before they had to leave for Oregon City. They said they were wagon scouts, giving up life on the trail and looking for a place to settle. But Jefferson, despite his usual inebriated state, sensed they were something more.

  He rode up to the hitching post in front of Mulligans'. A few horses were already tethered and Jefferson recognized one as belonging to his new poker partner. He smiled. With any luck, they’d be playing for whiskey.

  He eased himself out of the saddle and briefly looked down the street to a crowd gathered near the livery stable. Colin stood away from the crowd facing him. But he wasn’t looking at Jefferson. He was watching Mrs. Dunnigan drag her niece back to the mercantile. Jefferson glanced between his stepson and the mercantile just as Mrs. Dunnigan slammed the door. Hmmm. Now he knew what brought Colin to town so often. Mrs. Dunnigan’s niece. Jefferson chuckled. The slight movement made his head hurt. But amusement derived from knowing Mrs. Dunnigan would die before she let the likes of Colin near her pretty little niece was worth the pain to his head.

  Jefferson enjoyed anything that made his stepsons suffer. And suffering a loss was the best kind. He ought to know. He’d suffered from loss long enough. Let those boys have a turn and know what it was like. Jefferson glanced at the mercantile one last time, smiled, and went into the saloon.

  Ten

  Aunt Irene shoved Belle behind the counter. Belle turned, a cutting retort at the ready, only to have a white apron flung in her face before she could so much as open her mouth. What was wrong with the Aunt Irene? Had she lost her mind?

  “Start tallying everything in the jars first. Then move on to the canisters. I want everything tallied today! Your uncle and I already did the displays while you were off gallivanting with that Cooke woman.”

  Belle held the apron in her hand and counted to ten. Lord, help me to remembe
r she’s my aunt and my elder, because right now, I’d like to kill her.

  “And when you’re done with that you can scrub the back store rooms, then clean out the stove upstairs. The barn could use a good scrubbing too.”

  Belle’s mouth dropped open. Aunt Irene wanted her to scrub the barn? What was she? A slave? “Auntie, it will take two to three days to do all you ask.”

  “Stop complaining and get to work!”

  “But...”

  “No arguments! If I’m going to feed and shelter you then you’re going to do as I ask with no complaints!”

  Good Lord. What was happening to her? Belle watched as her aunt paced back and forth like a caged animal for a moment before she suddenly stopped, looked about, then headed for the curtained doorway behind the counter. “I’m going upstairs to tend to a few things. Don’t you dare leave!”

  Belle could only stand and stare as the woman waddled past and tackled the stairs to their living quarters, huffing and puffing the entire way. As soon as Aunt Irene was gone, Belle let go the breath she’d been holding. “Good Lord.” Belle glanced up. Help my aunt with whatever it is bothering her. Or I don’t think I can stay here if this keeps up much longer. She sighed and put on the apron.

  She was just about finished counting the last jar of candy when the bell above the door rang. She turned and sucked in her breath. A man and a boy entered. They were a ferocious and wild looking pair dressed as they were in buckskins trimmed with fur. Each sported what looked like a hat made from some sort of animal. Not a raccoon or beaver, but something bigger. But it wasn’t their attire that caught her attention, but the amount of weapons they wore. Each sported pistols and knives. The boy a bow and quiver of arrows to boot, while the man had some sort of walking stick. Belle shuddered and forced herself to greet them. “May I help you?”

  The man took a few steps forward as the boy continued to look about himself. “Oui,” he began.

  Belle’s eyes widened. A Frenchman?

  “We need supplies.” He said in a decidedly French accent and glanced about at the different goods. “I give you my list.” He reached into his buckskin shirt and pulled out a piece of parchment. “You give me what on list.”

  Belle nodded as he handed her the list. It was written in a neat hand and thankfully in English. Thank Heaven she wouldn’t have to translate anything. Her French was incredibly bad. “Right away, sir.” She looked at the list more closely and then spoke slowly so he could understand. “Some of the things on this list you can find at the livery stable. We don’t carry them here.”

  He came to the counter. “Which?”

  Belle pointed to several items at the bottom. “Mr. Berg the blacksmith can help you with these things. The harness and other things for your horses and wagon.”

  The man nodded and continued to stare at the list. Belle watched him as he pondered what she said. He was a big man. As tall as Mr. Berg in fact. And incredibly ferocious looking with his face half covered by a long beard and mustache. Not to mention the furred hat made from ... well, what ever it was. At this point, Belle didn’t want to guess further.

  “I come back. Leave boy here.”

  Belle nodded and turned to the boy who now stood next to the bolts of cloth stacked on a table. He was touching the pink calico Belle had suggested for Lucy over two weeks ago.

  “Non! Ne touchez pas cela!” The man yelled.

  Belle’s French may have been terrible but she at least understood ‘No! Don’t touch that!’ The boy drew back his hand as if the calico was on fire, confirming her guess. The man reached the boy in a few steps, grabbed his wrist and pulled him to the counter. “You stay here. She get our things. I be back.”

  The boy shook his head in protest but the man made some sort of sign with his hand, quelling any complaints, then strode out of the mercantile. Belle and the boy both watched him go then turned and took the other in.

  He was young, probably no more than twelve or thirteen years old. And dirty. His face, his hands, his clothes. Which of course made Belle take note of his smell. Which was as bad as he looked. She’d not noticed the filthy state of his clothes when he and whom she assumed was his father, first entered. The dust from the road seemed to blend in well with the buckskins they wore. Though not so much the furred trim and accessories. In fact, Belle wondered how he and his father were able to wear such things this time of year. It was the beginning of summer after all.

  “I’ll just get your father’s list together,” Belle said as she picked up the parchment. “He is your father isn’t he?”

  The boy looked at her and she notice how green his eyes were. He took a step back and glanced around, his eyes finally landing on the jars of candy behind her. She watched as his eyes widened at the sight.

  Belle glanced to the candy. “Would you like a piece?” The boy took a step back, eyes wide. Perhaps his English was as bad as her French. Belle furrowed her brow in concentration. “Vous aiment un... morceau de sucrerie?” She hoped she’d said it correctly.

  The boy took a cautious step forward to stand where he’d been before. He again looked longingly at the candy.

  Belle smiled, and stepped to the jars. “Which one?” She gestured to the candy as she spoke. “I’ll give you a few pieces for free.”

  The boy merely looked at her, then the candy. She opened several jars, took a candy from each and set them on the counter. “Ahhh ... let me see... sucrerie gratuite? Free candy.”

  A tiny smile lifted one corner of the boy’s mouth as his green eyes brightened. Belle smiled and pushed the candy across the counter to him. He reached for it slowly, never taking his eyes off her, and then snatched it off the counter so fast it made Belle jump. “Oh!”

  He shoved a piece into his mouth and sucked a moment, ignoring her completely. One would think the child had been starving. He closed his eyes and took another piece into his mouth. Belle could tell he was rolling both pieces about, relishing them, savoring. For Heaven’s sake, how long had it been since the child had a piece of candy? Or food, for that matter.

  She turned, put some candy into a small bag and held it out to him. She’d buy it herself. She hated seeing anyone go hungry.

  He looked at it, eyes wide, just as the door to the mercantile opened. Sadie and Mr. Van Cleet entered. The boy spun to face them, but relaxed at the sight of Mr. Van Cleet.

  “Well, I see you’ve met young Mr. Duprie.” Mr. Van Cleet said as he stepped right up to the boy and patted him on the top of his furred hat. It seemed odd as the boy was almost, if not as tall, as Sadie. He was either tall for his age or older than Belle first thought.

  “Where’s your aunt?” Sadie asked cautiously.

  Belle pointed to the ceiling.

  Sadie nodded. “Colin was upset when you left.”

  Belle sighed. “I didn’t have a lot of choice at the time.” She glanced upward. “She gets worse everyday. I just don’t know what’s ailing her.”

  “Your aunt is a good woman, Miss Dunnigan,” Mr. Van Cleet said. “I know she means well. She just goes about things rather ... aggressively.”

  “I’m sorry Mr. Van Cleet. I hope my aunt’s behavior didn’t upset your arrival.”

  “I don’t think anyone took notice, other than Colin. We were all too busy unloading the wagons.”

  Belle let go a heavy sigh. “Is he terribly angry?”

  “No,” Sadie said. “Frustrated is a better word. He wanted to come in and ask you himself but thought it better if we did.”

  “Ask me what?”

  “Remember when I suggested we have a picnic down by the creek and His Majesty?”

  Belle giggled at the mention of the giant oak. “Yes.”

  “Well Colin, Mr. Van Cleet and I thought it would be nice to make it a bigger affair. And, now the whole town is coming.”

  Belle smiled. “That’s wonderful! When are you going to have it?”

  “Saturday, and I’m going to need help with it. Mrs. Turner, Mrs. Fig and Mrs. Mulligan
are already organizing the other women to take care of the food, while I thought the two of us along with your aunt and uncle could organize some games and prizes. The men will handle the rest.”

  “After food and games, what else is there?” Belle asked.

  “Oh, you’ll see, Miss Dunnigan! You’ll see!” Mr. Van Cleet laughed and slapped the young Mr. Duprie on the back. The boy choked on his candy, his face suddenly red, and gasped for air. Mr. Van Cleet, realizing the boy was choking, quickly slapped his back again. Hard. The candy flew out of the boy’s mouth and landed squarely on Aunt Irene’s chest with a little plop as she entered.

  Everyone froze.

  Aunt Irene’s eyes narrowed on the sticky piece of candy a moment before she reached up and yanked it off her dress. “Who did this?” She huffed. She then looked about the room, her glare landing on the Duprie boy. He stood, eyes wide, muscles tensed and ready to flee.

  Aunt Irene wrinkled up her nose. “What is that smell? Get this disgusting creature out of my store!”

  The boy needed no further urging. He turned and ran for the door. Mr. Van Cleet sighed. “He’s harmless Mrs. Dunnigan. And he’s with me.”

  “With you?” Belle asked.

  “Yes, I brought the Duprie’s back with me from Oregon City. Anton Duprie is one of the best trackers in the west. Come down from the great northern woods to settle in Oregon Territory. I convinced him Clear Creek would make a fine home for them.”

  “You seem to be able to convince a lot of folks to come settle here.” Sadie commented.

  Belle nodded. “Such as Mr. Berg.”

  “And I’d say about half the men you brought to build the hotel.” Sadie added with a smile.

  Aunt Irene tossed the sticky piece of candy at Belle. “I don’t care who they are. They can’t come in my store looking and smelling like an animal!”

  Belle took the candy behind the counter and threw it in a small box they used for trash. “Auntie, Mr. Duprie placed quite a large order. I’m filling it now. He’ll be back soon to pick it up.”