Fireblossom (9 page)

"You sympathize with the Sioux, and yet you're here yourself—an interloper just like the rest of us?" Stephen wondered aloud.

"Lofty principles are often overcome by greed," Maddie observed, rather surprised by her own boldness.

Her father looked shocked. "I hope you didn't mean to offend our friend with that remark."

"Of course not. I was speaking of people in general." She stared down at her plate, feeling Fox's perceptive eyes on her.

Stephen turned to his guest. "How would you like to take a little stroll outdoors before dessert, Fox? We could continue this discussion in private... and I may have a business proposition for you."

When the two men had gone, Maddie bit her lip in frustration. "Gramma, why must you like that man so, and why has fate decreed that
Father must also take to him like a long-lost son?" She folded her napkin and made a face.

"I'm startin' to like him, too," Benjamin announced suddenly, grinning at his sister. "Fox calls me
Ben!"

"Traitors," she complained, "you're all traitors."

"For heaven's sake, darling, don't scowl so!" Susan rose to assist Wang Chee as he cleared the table. "Come and help us with the strawberry shortcake. Do you know, I think that you're sulking because Fox didn't devote enough attention to
you
throughout supper. When he paid you that extravagant compliment, your face betrayed you. No innocent schoolgirl has ever blushed more prettily than you—"

"Gramma, that's a horrid thing to say!" Maddie cried as she followed with a stack of plates. "No, I find him too bold, too crude. He seems to taunt me with his eyes and sets my nerves on edge!"

Susan gave her a knowing smile over one tiny shoulder. "Does he indeed? Very interesting."

Chapter 5

July 12, 1876

At one o'clock it was growing hotter by the moment, yet there was clarity in the air on Deadwood's rock-crowned hillsides and in the deep blue sky overhead that made the temperature more bearable.

The miners went on with their work, though they might pause for whiskey and a nap if the heat became intolerable later in the afternoon. In addition to the cleared land where placer mining was in progress, men used sluice boxes, rockers, riffles, and pans to ply the strips of ground between buildings that backed up to the creek. Some had even begun tunneling
under
buildings to get at the gold dust trapped at bedrock.

Fox stood on the lot he'd purchased from Stephen Avery, wiped sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, and smiled at the clutter of Deadwood that twisted away to the north. It was like a long, narrow hive, buzzing continuously with activity. Now it was to be his home.

The fifty-by-one-hundred-foot parcel of land that sat between the Avery house and the rest of Stephen's claims had been offered to Fox the night he'd supped with the Avery family. Stephen had been reasonably certain that all the gold had been already taken from the lot, and he welcomed the opportunity to choose his neighbor. He'd liked the younger man immensely, trusted him; with Fox living next to them, Stephen could leave Deadwood more often and worry less about his family's safety.

Fox himself loved the arrangement. This choice piece of land was like a gift from God, particularly in contrast with the rude bunk for which he was paying Charles H. Wagner a dollar a night. A night's sleep at the Grand Central Hotel, its upper floor still under construction, was worse than sleeping on the ground. The drunken geezer who occupied the bunk above Fox's snored like a steam engine, while the foul-mouthed boy who curled on the floor nearby had a case of lice so severe that it inspired him to scratch and curse most of the night.

Because his own sleep was constantly disrupted by the activities of his roommates, Fox remembered his nightly dreams. The first, in which he was happily among the Lakota people, was pleasant but unnerving. They behaved with great kindness and hospitality toward him, but he would feel as if he had secrets that came between them. Fox's newer dream featured Lt. Colonel George Armstrong Custer. The dream was never quite the same twice, but it generally contained scenes in which he argued with Custer. There was always a sense of lost control; Fox would try to reason with the man, feel anger rising, and soon they would be shouting. Custer would become more irrational, more furious, and then Fox would wake up, his heart pounding in his ears.

If not for the mud, Fox would have camped on his new land. Fortunately he had the money to pay an enterprising Cornish miner named Titus Pym to speed along the process of erecting a structure he could call home. First, both men devoted two full days to combing every inch of dirt one more time and came up with more than a hundred dollars' worth of gold dust, which Fox used to pay Titus in advance for his help. They also hit upon a deep cache of nuggets for which Fox subsequently received more than a thousand dollars. The money would come in handy. Building a cabin could run three hundred dollars or more, not to mention the price of furniture and other household items.

He and Titus had already had one load of logs hauled up the hillside by mules. Now, Titus was at Judge E. G. Dudley's sawmill, which turned out twelve thousand feet of boards per day. Deadwood's three sawmills were doing a roaring business, and Fox had already decided that if he stayed, that was the work he'd pursue. In the meantime, his cabin would need lumber for its roof, floors, and door. It was good to have the Cornish man to do the waiting at the hot, dust-choked sawmill while he himself saw to some of the other chores.

Fox set about marking off the dimensions of the cabin and smoothing the ground with an iron rake to make an even surface for the floor. As the sun beat down, he longed to remove his red calico shirt and the boots that made his trousers seem twice as hot and confining. Unbuttoning his shirt and rolling the sleeves up past his elbows, he mused that a person could probably get rich in Deadwood selling cups of cold water to the sweltering miners.

Leaning on his rake, Fox looked toward the Avery house which was hidden behind a dense row of pine trees. He knew that the evergreen barrier was meant to separate the rough miners from Stephen Avery's cultured eastern family, but it still seemed odd to Fox that they hadn't noticed
him
.
At first, when he and Titus were sifting the claim for overlooked gold, Fox had constantly expected Madeleine Avery to appear like a vision in one of her perfect, proper gowns, every sun-bright lock pinned neatly into place. Best of all, however, would be the wonderful scene she would make, fueled by outrage over his proximity.

But two full days had passed and now Fox began to wonder. Was it possible that Maddie really didn't know he was here... and soon to be her neighbor? Or, worse, might she know and be indifferent?

It seemed that the logical thing for him to do was go next door, apologize for his appearance, and request a glass of water. Weren't they all friends? He ran long fingers through his grimy, wind-ruffled hair, dusted off his pants and hands as best he could, and walked toward the wall of pine trees. At the last moment he remembered that his suspenders were hanging loose and caught one in each thumb. Drawing them over his wide shoulders, he smiled to himself and strode onward. Madeleine Avery would doubtless be disgusted by the sight of him, but the prospect of seeing
her was suddenly more appealing to him than the water he craved.

* * *

Maddie was hard-pressed to remember a more distressing day. First, her father had announced that he would be leaving Deadwood again in the morning and had gone off to buy supplies. Then, Benjamin had sliced open his thumb while playing with a kitchen knife. Gramma Susan and Wang Chee had taken him, shrieking with fear, to Dr. Sick to see if the wound needed stitching. Also, for some unknown reason Gramma had taken it into her head to bake bread today, in the middle of a heat wave—so Maddie was left behind to knead the dough, perspiring through her threadbare blue cotton dress. When a visitor came calling, she tried to ignore the insistent knocks, but to no avail.

The garish, painted woman who forced open the front door and sashayed into the kitchen introduced herself as Garnet Loomis. She was carrying several jars of serviceberry jam, which she boasted of having put up herself. Apparently she had met Gramma Susan at Mr. Gushurst's store, and, she insisted, they were now the closest of friends. The jam was a present for "Susie," she announced loudly, stacking the jars on the makeshift kitchen table.

Unprepared for company, Maddie was embarrassed to be seen in her disheveled state. She related the sad tale of Benjamin's accident, trying to look weak and preoccupied at the same time, certain that Mrs. Loomis would apologize for her intrusion and hurry on her way.

"You poor little thing!" The big-boned old woman jumped up and shocked Maddie by capturing her in a crushing hug. "You need help, and Garnet's here to give it to ya! You just sit down and have a rest. I'll knead that bread dough and it'll be the best bread you ever tasted!"

Freed of Mrs. Loomis's embrace, Maddie staggered backward and dropped onto a wooden chair. Her shoulders ached and she was so, so hot but, watching Garnet Loomis take over
her
kitchen, she felt a surge of renewed energy.

"You are much too kind," she said firmly, rising from her chair. "However, I really cannot allow you to do my chores, Mrs. Loomis."

"I
want
to do this!" The old woman began kneading the dough with such force that Maddie cringed involuntarily. "You're not used to the life out here and we all know it. Takes a while to toughen up. Why, I came to St. Louis forty years ago and I never thought I'd live through the first winter." Garnet beat on the dough, turning it rhythmically. "But, I did, and I liked it. Married a French fur trader who brought me to Fort Laramie. One day he went out to set trap lines an' never came back." She shook her head, laughing at the memory. "Men out there just ain't husband material, if you know what I mean! Anyways, I had to take up some sort of profession if I wanted to eat, and there wasn't much choice. I didn't mind. Kinda fun, if you can stand the truth. 'Course, now I'm not exactly prime goods, but I look after the younger girls; teach 'em the trade and mother 'em when they need it. Not a bad life for an old broad who loves adventure, huh? Al Swearingen, the Gem's owner, talked me into bringin' some of my girls out from Cheyenne in May, and I thought, Why the hell not?"

Madeleine was quite speechless. Pasting on a polite smile, she helped Garnet Loomis transfer the kneaded dough into an ironstone bowl, which she covered with a towel. "How kind of you to help me. I am a bit fatigued by the heat, so your assistance was certainly welcome. Now, I hope you won't think me rude, but I must—"

"Oh, I'll go in a minute, honey, but let's set a spell and cool off with a little refreshment. Any whiskey?"

Maddie tried not to betray her shock. "I don't believe so..."

Looking around the kitchen, Garnet spied a decanter of brandy on a shelf. "That'll do." She plucked an unwashed glass off the table and poured in a generous amount of the amber liquid. Maddie declined to join her but sat stiffly opposite her guest and conversed as courteously as she was able. As it turned out, Garnet talked almost nonstop, even answering her own questions.

"I hope you won't think I'm bein' rude, dearie, but I'm startin' to worry that you won't fit in here. You're not just weak and timid—you think you're better'n the rest of us, don'tcha?" Garnet tossed back the brandy, then poured another. "Well, that won't do if you mean to stay. Not if you want friends, leastways. I s'pose you've a notion that all we got in Deadwood is sin and vice and a lot of foul-mouthed miners who spit all day long. Ain't that so?"

"Well, I – " Maddie tried to think how to reply.

Garnet spared her the effort. "This town is growin' to be a place of real class. Maybe you didn't hear that an actual theater troupe is come to Deadwood! It's Jack Langrishe and his wife and two other actresses. They're putting up a theater right this minute down on Main Street! So honey, take some advice from old Garnet—join in and throw off those airs, or they'll just keep gettin' in your way of a good time!"

Madeleine felt dangerously close to tears when Garnet Loomis reached across the table, pinched her cheek hard, and tugged it to-and-fro. When a tapping came at the kitchen door, she looked up hopefully. Fox ducked his handsome head under the lintel.

"I apologize if I'm intruding..." he said hesitantly, glancing from Maddie to Mrs. Loomis with ill-concealed curiosity.

"Absolutely not!" Maddie jumped to her feet and rushed to greet him as if he were a much loved relative returning from the war. "What a perfectly lovely surprise, Fox! How well you look!"

In truth, that was an understatement. For an instant time seemed to stop as Maddie soaked up the picture Fox made framed in the sunlit doorway. He was thoroughly bronzed by the sun, which made his eyes even more crisply blue in contrast, and when he smiled the flash of his teeth was startling. Maddie could see that he was grimy and sweaty, too, but that made him appear stronger, leaner, taller, and more intensely male than ever.