A Claim of Her Own (29 page)
He’d lamented the condition of his trail-worn suit, but now it might prove to be a boon. Tonight when he camped he’d take it off and beat it over a boulder to make it look even worse. Bending down, he dragged his fingers through the dirt, collecting grime beneath his nails. He’d stop shaving and get rid of his carpetbag. That should complete the look and separate him thoroughly from the possibility of ever being connected with the image of a well-appointed gentleman mounted on a handsome bay gelding.
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.
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
M
attie 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. “Except 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.”