Blood Feather, page 18
It seemed almost providential that they would find the engagement and wedding rings they wanted in that store. Belle told Joshua she could simply wear her former wedding ring, since he had gone through so much to get it back for her when they first met. He was insistent though that her rings would be picked out by them together. She found several that were less expensive, but he could tell there was one set she was drawn to. He told the storekeeper that was what they wanted. Her eyes glistened as he paid for the rings. He then stuck them in his pocket and led her outside.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
He led her outside town to the banks of Fountain Creek, which had Russian olive and manzanita trees along them. There now were no people around, and there was still daylight in the sky. He knelt down in front of the fast-flowing creek and said, “Annabelle, I have loved you since the first moment I saw you. Anything and everything I do is simply to make you proud of me. Please say yes, you will marry me and spend the rest of our lives together.”
Tears filled her eyes and she could hardly breathe she loved this man so much.
“Yes, Joshua,” she said. “Oh, my word, yes. I love you with all my heart, darling, and will forever.”
He placed the engagement ring on her finger, stood, and they kissed long and slowly.
Their ride home to Cañon City did not begin until right after dark, and the whole way they talked about the future and their plans. At the depot, they found a neighbor with a wagon who offered them a ride to the house. Belle kept looking at her new ring, then she would look at this brave hero of hers.
They went into her house and soon had a fire going and started kissing on the couch. Strongheart wanted this woman so badly, and she would soon be his wife. He got up and took a deep breath.
She stood, and he said, “I am going to head to the Hot Springs Hotel, honey, and will see you for breakfast in the morning.”
He took one step and her hand grabbed his. She pulled him close.
Belle said, “Joshua Strongheart, you are my fiancé now, officially. You will soon be my husband, and as far as I am concerned, you already are. You are not leaving me tonight.”
She turned and led him by the hand toward her bedroom.
In the morning, they walked to the café right after daybreak. After the very long day and longer night, Joshua felt strangely very refreshed. He was in love, deeply in love. He felt this had to be a love like his biological father, Claw Marks, had had with his mother, but he would not ride off like his father. He planned to be with Belle until death came for one of them, hopefully many decades into the future. They got to the café, and he carried firewood in for her.
The sheriff came in for breakfast, and grabbing a cup of coffee, Joshua sat down with him.
“Sheriff, until I can track down this killer,” Strongheart asked, “can you spare a deputy to keep an eye on Belle when I am not around?”
“I sure can, Strongheart,” the lawman replied. “I have a good deputy, Stephen Vaughn. Big man himself, maybe three hundred pounds. I will put him at your disposal starting this morning.”
Joshua stayed at the restaurant until Deputy Vaughan arrived riding a big bay Morgan-Thoroughbred cross. He had a deep, booming voice and low-key relaxed manner. He wore a Russian .44 in a cross-draw holster, and by the wear and tear of the leather Strongheart could tell he had practiced that draw many hours.
Joshua walked out of the back door of the restaurant and looked at the new McClure House hotel just a block away. Mrs. Maria M. Sheetz was the first manager of the hotel, and it had sixty rooms, three suites, and even ten indoor bathrooms in it. Little did Joshua know that the McClure House, which was one of the most popular hotels in the area, would be sold to British investors in twenty-six years, at the turn of the century, and renamed the Strathmore Hotel. It would have shocked him to know that it would still be standing in 2012 completely renovated. The redbrick building was solid. Right then, it was brand-new and had just officially opened, although it had been built two years earlier, in 1872, and William McClure had used red bricks made right there in Fremont County.
He wondered if he should take a room there or at the Hot Springs Hotel at the edge of town, and he decided on the McClure House. He would make sure he got a room where he could keep an eye on Belle’s restaurant, too, or at least the back of it. He had spent the night with Belle and knew she would want him to stay, but he did not want any gossips wagging their tongues about her any more than they already were because he was a half-breed.
Strongheart knew how cruel people could be. He had grown up with it. First, he was the bastard love child of an Indian and a white woman, so even while very small he could sense rejection from some. Then, when his mother married Dan Cooper, his stepfather, who became a real dad to him, things got much better. People had no choice. Dan was a tall, quiet man who was quite serious, but crossing him, by any man, was as wise as trying to lasso a cyclone.
He fondly recalled the time that the town blacksmith’s son started teasing him at school, calling him “half-breed” and “red mongrel.” Dan came home for lunch and found Joshua hiding in the barn, and streaks on his face showed he had been crying,
“You been playing hooky, son?” the lawman asked.
Joshua Strongheart simply would not lie, so he shyly said, “Yes, sir.”
Dan said, “Get me a stout switch.”
Joshua hung his head and walked out the barn door, hearing the shout after him, “Never drop your head down, boy. Hold it high, even when you’re in trouble. Especially when you’re in trouble.”
He came back five minutes later with a stick he’d cut and shaved with his pocketknife and handed it to Dan, who sat on an upended barrel. Dan held the switch in his right hand.
He said, “You know you do not miss school, period. And you know you are getting a whipping, but first you get to have your say. What do you have to say about this, Joshua?”
“Nothing, sir,” young Joshua said. “I don’t have an excuse. I am sorry, Pa. I’m ready to take my whipping.”
“Well, boy, you said the right thing,” the graying marshal said, “but it is just you and me here. You were crying before I came in. Why?”
“I’m sorry I cried, Pa,” Joshua exclaimed, panicked thinking that he would get a worse spanking now.
Dan grinned, saying, “Never apologize for crying, son. I cry myself sometimes.”
“You cry?” Joshua said, totally surprised.
“Sure, sometimes a man needs to cry,” his stepdad explained. “Just don’t do it that often. Womenfolk want and need a man around, not some dandy, so always be a man of parts. Now, what happened?”
“Well,” young Joshua said, “you know the blacksmith’s son Billy?”
Dan nodded.
Joshua said, “He started calling me ‘half-breed’ and ‘red mongrel’ and ‘blanket nigger.’ I ignored him, Pa, but he kept it up and got some of the other kids to do it, too.”
“Then what?”
“He shoved me, Pa, so I hit him the way you taught me and gave him a bloody nose and knocked him down,” the boy stated, “then the teacher just saw me hitting him and told me I was getting a paddling today.”
“Did you tell her that he shoved you?”
“Yes, sir,” Joshua replied. “And she said that he only shoved me, but I hit him, so I was in trouble. I didn’t think it was fair and didn’t know what I should do, so I acted like a yellow belly and played hooky.”
“Okay,” Dan said. “Yer not getting a spanking today or tomorrow. I’m taking you to school tomorrow and am sending a message to the blacksmith to meet us there with his boy, and we will have a meeting with the schoolmarm. Get out of here and do your chores.”
“Yes, sir!” Joshua said, running toward the barn, a big smile of relief on his face and a ton of worry sliding off his shoulders while he ran.
He could not wait until the next morning.
The next day as they walked to the school Joshua was excited, as there was no red hue in the sky.
He remembered his father had told him before many times, “Red sky in the morning, cowboys take warning, but a red sky at night is a cowboy’s delight.”
It would be sunny this day, and his pa was defending him. He simply couldn’t feel any better and had a definite spring in his step. They walked at a brisk pace, and young Joshua had to take two steps for each one his stepdad took. He wondered if he would ever be that tall when he grew up.
They walked into the schoolyard and up the steps to the wooden schoolhouse. The teacher had the other kids playing outside, who were genuinely curious about what was going on. As the meeting started, every few minutes some child would try to peek in the windows but be shooed away by Miss Vendetti, the schoolmarm.
Dan presented the case in a matter-of-fact way, and the very large blacksmith seemed to be frustrated. He was not used to speaking in such a meeting, only to customers talking about shoeing horses in his stable, where the surroundings were familiar. As the meeting wore on, he seemed to get more frustrated and was soon on his feet pacing. Dan stood up, too, being cautious.
Dan stared at the blacksmith, saying, “You know, Whitney, what really bothered me about the story?”
“What, Marshal?” the blacksmith growled.
“The fact that your boy here referred to Joshua as a red mongrel,” the lawman replied. “Does your son at his age have a big enough vocabulary to even know what a mongrel is or to use the term ‘blanket nigger’?”
Whitney’s large face grew beet red, and then before he could speak, Dan turned his attention to the man’s son, Billy.
“Boy,” Dan said, “can you tell me what a mongrel is?”
“A person?” the boy obviously guessed.
Dan said, “So that was a term he heard at home.”
Whitney tried to step forward, being used to intimidating people with his bulk, height, and brawn. Then it dawned on him that he would never intimidate this marshal ever. He relaxed his stance a little and folded his calf leg–sized arms in front of his chest.
Dan ignored this and then turned his attention to the schoolteacher.
“Miss Vendetti,” Dan said, “I also do not understand why my son is supposed to be punished for defending himself. That is not fair at all, and the Constitution of the United States guarantees all of us the right to defend ourselves. So does the Good Book. Can you explain this to me?”
She immediately displayed a haughty demeanor and, hands on her hips said, “Marshal Cooper, I most certainly can explain why. Joshua struck him very hard with his fist, right in the face. It was horrible. There was blood everywhere.”
Pointing at the bully, she said, “Yes, Billy acted out first, and we talked about it. However, even though he was wrong, he only shoved Joshua. He did not strike him with a fist or even attempt to.”
Dan laughed out loud.
“So, ma’am,” he responded, “you feel that shoving a person does not constitute an assault on a person, any person?”
“That is absolutely correct, Marshal,” she said angrily. “It pales in comparison to fisticuffs.”
“So,” Dan said, “a person shoving another cannot hurt the other person?”
“Indeed not!” came the terse reply.
Dan walked slowly over toward Whitney, and when he got near him their size difference became quite obvious, as Whiney towered over the six-foot-one-inch lawman and was twice as large as the older man. He stiffened up a little because Dan had come within a few feet of him, but he kept his arms crossed.
Joshua wondered if his pa was at a loss for words, as he had not replied.
Suddenly, without any warning, in an explosive flash of movement, Marshal Dan Cooper launched himself forward, bringing all his weight to bear, and his hands shot out, striking the blacksmith on both shoulders and shoving hard. The 250-pounder, off-guard and off-balance, flew backward, the weight of his body sending him unceremoniously through the one– by twelve-inch pine-board wall two feet behind him, with a thunderous crash. Whitney landed with a thud on his back in the schoolyard and lay there unmoving, knocked out when his head hit the wall.
Dan smiled and gently grabbed a beaming, proud Joshua by the scruff of his neck, saying softly, “I am proud of you, son, for defending yourself against a bully. Miss Vendetti, tomorrow one of my deputies and I will rebuild that wall, and I will bring new lumber and nails to do so. In the meantime, Joshua is taking the day off from school, and he and I are going fishing. Do you have any questions?”
She stared, mouth open, at the unconscious blacksmith and then back at the marshal.
“No, sir,” she replied. “You made your point quite emphatically. I will see you tomorrow morning, Joshua. Have fun with your father today.”
Dan grabbed her fire bucket from next to her desk and stepped through the gaping hole in the wall amid the crowd of awestruck children. He poured the water on Whitney’s face, and the big man sat up suddenly, sputtering and shaking the water from his head. Dan handed the bucket to Joshua, who, grinning from ear to ear, ran to the well and filled it before returning it to its resting place next to Miss Vendetti’s old desk.
Whitney looked around in a daze, shaking his head. Dan grinned and stuck his hand down. The big man took it and was pulled to his feet.
Dan grabbed his arm and said, “Are you okay, Whitney?”
Shaking his head again, the burly man said, “I guess. What happened?”
Dan just patted him in the back and chuckled, then turned and walked away.
Joshua followed his stepdad through his gathered classmates, his chest puffed out like a peacock’s, and they walked back toward Dan’s office. The boy had never been so proud.
“Thank you for standing up for me, Pa,” Joshua said.
“Never start a fight, Joshua, and do not strike first unless you can tell the other guy is about to strike. And when you do get in a fight, you win, and you do not take water or give up ever. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good,” the lawman replied. “This is a tough world, and a man has to be tough to survive in it. As tough as you might become, though, you treat every lady you meet like she is fine china and make sure others treat all women that way, too. Understand?”
“Yes, Pa. I give you my word,” Joshua said solemnly, and the weight of this commitment hit him squarely.
Although kids talked about the traumatic and exciting event for weeks, none of the adult participants ever mentioned the incident again.
Strongheart decided he would indeed take a room at the McClure House, and he headed there, less than a block away from the restaurant, and registered, getting a room facing the back of her café.
Joshua’s head was spinning because of exhaustion. He had to get some sleep and certainly had not the night before. Anytime Belle had not been giving him her full attention, he was doing that for her, staying awake and alert and getting up several times to look out windows.
He walked into the café later, and she beamed when she saw him enter. She rushed over to the door, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him passionately. He quickly explained about getting a room at the McClure House and why, and she protested a little but was also relieved. Like Joshua, she thought: Why give the tongue-waggers something else to talk about? They would create enough on their own.
“Is Deputy Vaughn here?” he asked.
“Yes, he is at the far northwest corner table drinking coffee,” she answered. “He seems very diligent. He tried to bring a chair in the kitchen here, but you have seen me zip around when the café is busy, and I shooed him out to the dining room.”
Strongheart was glad to hear that the big lawman truly had her welfare at heart. He gave her a kiss and told her he was going to go flop on his bed and just sleep, so he could be fresh and refreshed.
Belle grinned at him and flirtingly said, “Well, my dear future husband, I may come over to that nice new hotel and knock on your door.”
Joshua grinned, saying, “Sweetheart, I love you more than life itself, but as tired as I am, if you do that, I will put six Colt .45 slugs through the door.”
She laughed and went back to her cooking, while he entered the dining room. He spotted the big deputy and went over to his table. Both men nodded, and Joshua sat down across from him.
He said, “Deputy, everything under control?”
Vaughn said, “Please call me Steve. Yes, sir, all is good so far. I just cannot figure out how she stays so busy in that kitchen and then smiles so much and stays friendly with every customer.”
Strongheart said, “Don’t call me Mr. either, please. It’s Joshua or Strongheart. Belle is an amazing woman, amazing. She does bring in help sometimes when she gets really busy, but she still does the work of ten women. Now, about this Blood Feather. He is so brazen, so cold, so cunning, and is obviously very mad. Do not take any chances with him.”
Steve said, “Joshua, listen to me, partner. One thing I can do is shoot, and if any seven-foot-tall Indian walks through that door, I will light him up like a church Christmas tree and apologize later if he is the wrong seven-footer.”
Strongheart started chuckling. Then his head started swimming again.
He stuck out his hand and shook, saying, “I have a room at the McClure House, so if you have any problems, give me a shout or fire a shot. I got a room looking at the back of the café. You take care of that woman. She is going to be my wife soon, you know.”
Steve winked and said, “Yes, I heard. Congratulations.”
Strongheart went to the hotel, and into his room, and fell asleep on his bed, only taking his gun and knife off first. He still had his boots on, and he slept the sleep of the dead for hours. It was dinnertime when Joshua awakened. He freshened up and headed back to the café, and got a wonderful shock. There was his friend Chris Colt, the scout he’d become partnered with at Fort Union, and his boss, Lucky.
