A Shelter of Hope (7 page)

Glancing again at the cabin, Simone felt a strange sense of separation. She knew no other home, and yet she held no great affection for this crude arrangement of logs and chinking. Still, this had been the home where her mother had lived and loved her. This place had seen her brother’s birth and the birth and death of other siblings she had never known. There had been happy times here, she allowed herself to acknowledge. But they were so long ago and so faded from her memory that Simone could not get a clear picture of the past. Bitterness had built a wall between her and the remembrances that might have warmed her icy heart.

The skies to the west were turning rosy and orange in twilight, and the chilled air of evening blew down from the mountaintops and whipped at the edges of her coat. The elements seemed to beckon her to forget her nostalgic reflections and flee.

Simone took one last look around her and knew that the time had come. As much as she feared what lay in the unknown before her, she feared her past even more. Her father had deserted her, her mother was dead, and she had killed the man who was meant to be her husband. Accident or not, they would surely hang her for her actions, and there would be no one left to mourn her passing.

Taking a deep breath, she kicked at the sides of the horse and turned him toward the narrow, rocky path. She’d made her choice, and now she would have to find a way to live with it.

FIVE

LOUIS DUMAS LIKED the weight of gold coins in his pocket. He also liked the feeling of freedom that had come in ridding himself of the responsibilities of the trapline and of Simone. The girl reminded him more and more of her mother, and that only served to remind him of things he’d just as soon forget.

He’d never once gotten a thing in his life without taking it or forcing it. It just seemed to be his lot. He’d taken Winifred in her moment of weakness and desperation and shown her that her only hope was to become his wife. Then he’d thought by putting her away in the hills, away from folk and the pretty things she’d grown up with, that he could somehow make her forget that such things existed. But he hadn’t.

He shook his head and spit. Women were more trouble than they were worth. They were sharp-tongued in an argument and then, without batting an eyelash, could turn on the sweetness and deception without warning. They were born to deceive men, as far as Louis was concerned, and there wasn’t a single example in his own life that had proved otherwise.

After stocking up on a few things he’d need for his journey to Colorado, Dumas decided to have one last round of drinks at the Red Slipper. It seemed strange to consider leaving the area after having given so much of his life to the place. He’d come to this territory to escape the Civil War. That and the death sentence on his head for desertion during battle. Trapping was something he’d learned from his father, a Canadian who had married a backwoods New York girl and built a house on the border of both countries. Trapping seemed a good way to lose himself and his identity to the rest of the world, and the territory had been good to him. Now, as he considered mining and what the future might hold in store, Louis couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made a mistake in selling out to Davis. Perhaps his original plan of moving north to further his trapping efforts was the wiser choice after all. With the Indian population rounded up and housed on government reservations, there would be all manner of animal to harvest. He’d heard stories about the riches of the Canadian Rockies that made him itch to go and see for himself.

Securing his horse outside the saloon, Louis took hold of his rifle and went inside. The dilemma of what to do and where to go continued to battle inside him. There didn’t seem much sense in going over what was already done, and yet a nagging doubt remained in the back of his mind. Maybe after a few drinks it would all make sense enough.

“Louis, you’ve come back to share some of your wealth,” Gus called from the far end of the bar.

“Came back for a last drink, if that’s what you mean,” Dumas grunted.

Ada came in from the stock room and beamed Louis one of her smiles. “I hoped you’d come back to at least say good-bye.”

“Hey, Louis,” two men called in unison as they entered the Slipper. “Saw you head in here and thought we might get a game going.”

“Jervis, Butterfield,” Louis acknowledged. “Don’t rightly know as I have time for a game.”

The men laughed. “When have you ever been too busy to relieve us of our money?” Jervis asked.

“Lessen you’re afraid you’ve lost your touch,” Gus joined in.

Ada snickered at the challenge and poured Louis a tall whiskey. “You can’t let ’em get away with talkin’ to you like that, Louis.”

Louis downed the whiskey and pushed the glass forward for a refill. “All right, since you seem so all-fired impatient to lose your money. I already spent one night in town, don’t hardly seem a problem to spend another.” Gus and Jervis gave a whoop.

By this time, several more men had entered the bar, and they joined in the cheering as they realized the intent of the men at the bar. Boredom could only be relieved in one of several ways: fighting, loving, drinking, gambling, or working. Since most men were single, loving wasn’t often an option. Fighting could occur as the evening wore on, but it was usually an added bonus to either drinking or gambling. And working … well, that was clearly not an option on this fine day.

“Come on,” Louis said, tucking the bottle under his arm. He took up his glass in one hand and his rifle in the other and motioned to the tables. “If we’re all gonna play, you’d best push ’em together.”

“I’ll go get Harley’s bench at the dry goods store. He won’t mind us borrowing it so long as we don’t split it into kindlin’,” Gus said, heading out the door with great enthusiasm.

Louis felt a thread of amusement as he observed the actions around him. These men were starved for entertainment and socializing. Some had just now come to town, having lived out the winter in solitary seclusion. Others were up from Laramie, their pockets full of coins from their latest job or trade.

“River’s thawed,” Butterfield offered, pulling up one of the free chairs. “My pa says the signs point to a warm spring.”

“I don’t trust it,” Jervis said, as if anyone cared about his thoughts on the matter. “I’ve seen it like this before. Just about the time you figure on things warmin’ up, along comes a blizzard to freeze you to the bone.”

Louis looked at the man and nodded. He chose for himself a seat that placed his back against the wall.
“Never put your back to any man,”
his father had told him, and Louis knew he was alive to this day because of heeding that advice. “He’s right, ya know. Never makes sense to rush the elements. I saw signs in the clouds that speak of another good snow. That’s one of the reasons I’m moving down out of the mountains before the weather turns sour.”

“So you’re really gonna do it?” Butterfield asked.

“I’m here, ain’t I?”

“Heard tell you sold off your kid,” Jervis said, throwing himself down on a roughly hewn stool.

“Sold it all off,” Louis said, balancing the rifle across his lap. He liked the security of its weight. The barrel was wrapped in a piece of beaded, fringed buckskin casing. The design of the piece showed intricate artistry, but there wasn’t a man in Uniontown who didn’t realize Louis would just as soon blow a hole out the end of the casing as to take the time to release the rifle should any man challenge his authority.

Gus lumbered in with the bench balanced on one shoulder, and behind him Harley Burkett, the dry goods owner, followed with another two chairs.

“Heard Gus say there’s gonna be quite a game,” Harley said. “Didn’t rightly figure on missin’ out.”

“Come on in,” Louis told the man. “The more of you there is, the more money I can win. But I ain’t wastin’ too much time. There’ll be another snow inside of a day or my name ain’t Louis Dumas.”

“Louis was just tellin’ how he sold off his land and traps,” Butterfield said, scooting his chair over to make room for Harley.

“Sold his kid, too,” Gus added, positioning the bench. “Wished I’d had enough money to buy her from ya. That Simone is a looker for sure.”

“You sold her to Davis?” Harley questioned, as though Louis had lost his mind. “What about your friends, man?”

Louis shrugged. “Ain’t a one of you that ever came to me posin’ such a question.”

“For fear you would have kilt one of us,” Jervis interjected. “We all saw the way you decked old Flatnose last time she was in town and he dared to try to talk to her.”

“Talkin’ wasn’t what Flatnose had in mind,” Louis replied matter-of-factly. This brought a hearty round of laughter from the table, which by now was filling up with additional men.

“With a looker like your daughter,” Gus dared to say what every other man was thinking, “talkin’ wouldn’t have been my first choice, either.”

Louis had never felt any real concern for Simone’s reputation or purity. What he had resented from the men at this table was the threat they had posed to his own security. To lose Simone to one of them would have meant losing his housekeeper, cook, laundress, pelt-skinner, and anything else Louis needed from his well-trained daughter. Now that he had plans to take himself to Colorado, Simone seemed to be a liability more than an asset.

“Davis probably didn’t pay half what some folks might have been willing to give you,” Butterfield chimed in, while Harley took it upon himself to shuffle the cards.

“Yeah, for one as purty as Simone and with the fact that she was still not knowin’ a man and all,” Gus said, “you probably could’ve got a real fortune for her.”

“Sure,” Jervis added, nodding. “Could’ve taken her with you to the mining town and sold her there.”

“Could’ve sold her a buncha times,” another man said seriously. “I mean, look at Ada … and she ain’t near the looker your daughter is.”

Louis let the men ramble on without saying much. In truth, their words disturbed him greatly. He hadn’t thought about the possibilities of Simone being of value to him outside of working around the house. It had never once dawned on him to sell her to his friends for their ongoing pleasure. In truth, before Jervis had mentioned her value as entertainment in the mining communities, Louis had never allowed his imagination to wander in that direction. He supposed it was because of the bitter memories he harbored of his mother. His father had put her to work selling her favors for whatever money it earned him, and Louis couldn’t know for sure, but he suspected there wasn’t a single one of the Dumas children who had the same father.

Now as Louis began to contemplate the notion of selling Simone into prostitution, he found he feared he had committed a grievous error in judgment. The whole situation was beginning to wear Louis down.

Ada sashayed across the floor, bringing drinks and smiles to the men. Louis could imagine Simone bringing a much higher class of clientele, with her mother’s petite but well-rounded figure and smoldering blue eyes. If they set themselves up in the right place, Simone might well be able to make upward to fifty dollars a night, maybe more. Somewhere deep down inside him, Louis knew that the idea of such a thing should be repulsive to him. But it wasn’t. What repulsed him was the idea of having lost a small fortune.

“Yeah, it’s just too bad that Garvey Davis is enjoying her instead of one of us,” someone said.

Louis began to think about the situation, and the more he thought about it, the more ideas came into his head. He could take Simone with him. Maybe he wouldn’t have to work if he did things right. He could set up a place for Simone to work instead. His father had done it, and it had certainly served him well enough—until his mother had run away. It wasn’t anything new. In fact, it was practically the oldest profession known to woman—and to man.

Maybe Simone had already given Davis enough trouble to make him gladly turn her back over to Louis. Maybe he could just show up at the cabin and find the man desperate to be rid of Simone. Maybe, but not likely. Louis tried to concentrate on the cards being dealt him, but in truth, the idea of recovering Simone and taking her with him to Colorado had overrun his thoughts. He lost four straight hands in a row before realizing that he needed to make a choice. Either play cards or contemplate what to do about the girl. He couldn’t do both.