Fireblossom (3 page)

Clad in a blue-gray flannel shirt, buckskin trousers tucked into boots, and a regular army hat, Custer now mounted his horse bareback and rode around camp in a fever, shouting orders to his thirty-two officers. At the cookfire of the Arikara scouts, he listened impatiently to the admonitions of Bloody Knife, a half-Sioux scout.

"There are more Sioux ahead than you ever guessed, more Sioux than we have bullets," Bloody Knife warned. "If you attack without waiting for the other troops, it will take two or three days to finish fighting."

Custer smiled. "I guess we can finish them in a day. Besides, we cannot afford to wait for reinforcements. If we linger so near for very long, we risk discovery, in which case the entire village will be gone before we can mount an attack."

Listening, Daniel Matthews knew a sense of sickening doom. Custer had been handed an excuse to postpone his invasion and still he persisted, apparently caring as little for the lives of his own men as for those of the Sioux. The insanity and injustice of the situation rose from Dan's heart and gut, threatening to choke him.

As the columns began to move, he brought his roan beside Custer's white-stockinged sorrel, Vic.

"There's no need to rush, sir," he said. "My sense is that we should listen to the scouts and exercise caution."

"Is Bloody Knife in charge here?" Custer shot back.

He urged the sorrel onward then, galloping down the dusty hillside. As Dan himself drew closer to the columns of troopers, he saw that Custer was conferring animatedly with Benteen and Reno. Suddenly it seemed very hot. Captain Myles Keogh walked his horse, a clayback gelding called Comanche, over to Dan and let out a sigh.

"What's happened?" Dan drew off his gray slouch hat and raked a hand through his hair.

"We were still packing when one of the men spotted a few Sioux warriors not far from camp. The worry is that they've already warned the village and it may be scattering as we speak." Keogh stroked his thick mustache. "It would be a damned shame, wouldn't it, if we've come all this way and they escape before we can attack..."

Custer was yelling, his face alight. "We cannot wait or we shall lose them. We have no choice but to strike now. We'll form the regiment into three battalions so that we may efficiently surround the hostiles and prevent their escape. Major Reno and Captain Benteen will each lead a battalion, and I'll take the third and largest." He waved his hat in the air and declared, "We'll win, boys! I could whip all the Indians on the continent with the Seventh Cavalry!"

Jeb Campbell, standing a few yards from Dan, could not contain his glee. With a grin that displayed his broken front tooth, he whooped, "It's one helluva day to kill us some Injins!"

The scene on the hillside was charged with the thrill of impending conflict. Dan wheeled his roan around and went back to Custer. He found the commanding officer flushed, his eyes sparkling, fingers reflexively clenching Vic's reins.

"Don't waste your breath with more advice," Custer said.

"This is madness. I know the Sioux, and I can tell you that what the scouts saw this morning was
real—
not some vision to be scoffed at!"

"I've been patient with you, Matthews, but I've had enough. I wouldn't have thought you a coward, but—"

Blue eyes blazing, Dan cut in, "You are
wrong!
Even though I hate everything that this military exercise stands for, I am prepared to ride into battle if I cannot persuade you to listen to reason. In the meantime, I will do whatever it takes to stop this. The Indians are
not
cowards; they won't run away if you wait for the other troops to arrive, but if you insist on attacking blindly, it won't be glory that you find."

A vein stood out on Custer's brow as he leaned toward Dan and ground out, "You could be court-martialed for insulting me this way. As for your offer to join us in battle—I
decline
! I want you to get out of here! You can go back to Washington and tell President Grant that if he wants me to have a keeper, he'll have to do the job
himself
."
Custer was trembling with rage.

Dan's head throbbed and sweat dripped down his neck as he turned and started to leave. This was the damnedest day of his life, worse than the bloodiest battle in the Civil War, because he could see the outcome and was powerless to stop it. If Custer held only his own fate in the balance, it wouldn't matter, but—

"Hey, Matthews! Where are you going?"

He glanced back to see Captain Keogh shading his eyes in the blinding sunlight, his expression quizzical. Rage burned like poison in Dan's gut. "I'm getting the hell out of here!" he shouted back.

At the top of the hill, he paused for a last look back. The troopers were divided into three battalions now, restless and eager for battle. Some were looking up the hill at him, no doubt wondering why he was leaving at such a moment.

Although Dan knew that he had done all he could to stop the course of events and that Custer had ordered him to leave, he felt oddly chilled; tainted somehow... like a deserter. All his life, he'd easily separated right from wrong, but now it was as if he'd reached a blind corner. His heart felt torn in two.

Wiping his tanned face with a kerchief, Dan watched the columns of mounted troopers start off across the parched ground toward the Little Bighorn River. He shut his eyes, whispered a prayer for them, and then set off alone toward an unexpectedly muddied future.

PART 1

"An Eden in the clouds—

how shall I describe it!

As well try to paint the flavor of a peach

or the odor of a rose."

~ Samuel Barrows

reporter and member of Black Hills Expedition of 1874.

Chapter 1

June 26, 1876 Deadwood,

Dakota Territory

The long journey from Philadelphia to Deadwood had sorely tried Madeleine Avery's sense of decorum, but now she, her brother, and her grandmother were nearly to their new home. Their wagon jounced up a precipitous road carved out of the mountains, and everyone in the wagon train said that Deadwood lay on the other side.

Out West, people spoke the word
Deadwood
in the same tone reserved for
Paradise.
Everyone Maddie and her family had met during their days aboard trains, steamboat, and finally prairie schooner had been envious when the Averys had revealed their destination.

"Remember that man in Sioux City, Maddie?" Benjamin Avery, wide-eyed and grimy at nine years of age, scrambled back into the wagon to stare first at his sister and then at his grandmother. "He said that there's so much gold in Deadwood, the streets are covered with it! I'll bet that when we reach the top of this mountain and look down, we'll be able to see the town shining in the trees!"

"Well, it's a lovely thought but I rather doubt that will be the case," Maddie replied with a weary smile.

The Black Hills themselves were a wooded wonderland, lush with wildflowers and washed by cool streams. The sun-spangled air was pungent with the scent of pine. It wasn't difficult to imagine the Hills' most famous town boasting streets of gold. Summoning a bright tone for Benjamin's sake, Maddie continued, "I'll own that I'm excited to arrive, too. I can hardly wait to see the house Father has built for us. These past months have been so difficult..." She paused, tears welling in her eyes as she looked to her grandmother. "I dearly long to fix up our new home, to plant a garden, and take care of everyone."

Susan Hampshire O'Hara gave her granddaughter a tender smile. She, too, was still grieving the recent death of her daughter, Colleen, Maddie's mother. "Dearest, have you not noticed? This isn't Philadelphia. Unless I miss my guess, Deadwood will be even more uncivilized than the towns we've passed through on the plains. Gold towns create an atmosphere that is hardly conducive to gentle pastimes like raising flowers and baking cream puffs."

Her brow furrowing slightly, Madeleine braced herself as the wagon dropped suddenly into a deep rut. Her gaze traveled back to one of the several trunks she'd brought—in spite of letters from her father admonishing her to pack lightly. It had been much too difficult to abandon her favorite books, many of which bore the faint inscription "Colleen O'Hara Avery." They would comfort her in strange surroundings, as would the various keepsakes she had chosen from their home.

The most astonishing adjunct to the Avery entourage had been added at the last minute: Susan O'Hara herself. The eighty-three-year-old matron would never have believed that she could leave Philadelphia, where she had been born and lived most of her life, to come to a godforsaken place like Deadwood. However, when it came time to bid Maddie and Benjamin good-bye, she'd been unable to remain behind. It was as if she could hear her daughter's voice, speaking to her from heaven. Colleen had loved Stephen Avery but she had played both parents' roles much of the time while he chased around the country during gold or silver booms. There was no telling what kind of father or home life awaited the Avery children in Deadwood. At the last moment, Susan had felt compelled to go with them.

How very peculiar life was, Susan decided as she observed her beautiful granddaughter. Like Colleen, who had comported herself as a lady nearly from infancy, well-mannered Madeleine seemed bound and determined to enjoy fine things and cultivate a gentlewoman's sensibilities—often at the expense having fun.

Susan O'Hara had her doubts about how deep Madeleine's refined streak really ran. After all, the child was the image of Patrick, her dear departed rogue of a husband. At twenty, Maddie was had a woman's beauty, with luxuriant hair the color of marmalade, sparkling emerald-green eyes, a mouth both wide and rosily sensuous, and milky skin with dustings of freckles. Maddie tried to tone down her looks by twisting her mass of waves into a prim chignon and disguising her curves with high collars and restrictive corsets. Still, Susan liked to think that there were smoldering embers deep within her granddaughter that would one day ignite. She hoped she'd live to see it.

"Look!" shouted Benjamin, as their wagon heaved over the crest of the hill. "There's Deadwood!"

Madeleine helped her grandmother come forward so that they could share this first view of their new home. The sight that met their eyes caused them both to gasp involuntarily.

"Perhaps," murmured Susan, "there's been some mistake. That couldn't possibly be—"

"That's Deadwood, ma'am," interrupted their driver, Hugo. He spit out a stream of tobacco juice. "It's too late to turn back now!"

Below them, tucked into a twisting gulch crowned by cliffs of white rock and studded with burned stumps, lay a muddy, makeshift town. Deadwood seemed to consist almost entirely of half-built frame buildings, log cabins, and hundreds of tents. Maddie could hear the echoing shouts and laughter of men who appeared to be moving over every inch of the gulch. Miners.

"Goodness," she whispered.

"Doesn't it look tremendous?" Benjamin demanded.

"Quite," Susan ran a soft, wrinkled hand over his unruly curls. "Just the sort of place a little boy dreams of living."

"Do you suppose there are any other women there?" Maddie asked.

"Oh, sure," Hugo assured her, winking. "Where there's gold, there's always plenty of women... if you know what I mean."

"How delightful," Susan said as they started down the rocky, rutted road. "This promises to be
quite
an adventure!"

* * *

Stephen Avery, slim and erect in a stiff-bosomed white shirt, plaid vest, and gray trousers, stood outside the new frame building that housed the grocery store. The day was growing warmer by the minute; the stench of waste rose from the bog that was Main Street.

Watching the handful of rickety wagons creak down the side of Deadwood Gulch, Stephen tried not to worry what his daughter would think of him for bringing her and Benjamin here. She was so much like her mother. He'd never have dreamed of uprooting Colleen from her beloved Philadelphia and the tranquil, refined life she had there. What had possessed him to do so to Madeleine?