Sulking, Gerty climbed down and went into their tent. She came back out holding her doll and muttering under her breath. Giving her father a withering glance, she went over to the fire.
“My darling girl,” Senator Keever said. “She acts too big for her britches sometimes.” He scratched his chin. “Now where was I? Oh, yes. I was telling you about Priscilla. She hung on as long as she could. Every day the doctors bled her and sweated her but it didn’t help. Finally, about a month before the baby was due, she succumbed. But right before she died, the doctors cut Gerty out of her.” Keever brushed at his face as if to dispel the memory. “So there I was. I had a child but no wife. But as fate would have it, I met Rebecca the very next week. One thing led to another, and when Gerty was four months old, Rebecca agreed to marry me.”
Rebecca smiled, a thin smile that didn’t touch her eyes.
“Now you know what my daughter meant,” Keever said to Fargo. “I trust you will stand by your word and not reveal my secret to a living soul. It could ruin me politically.”
Fargo didn’t see how and said so.
“That shows how naive you are. A politician must be above reproach, sir. My constituents expect me to be a model of moral and ethical behavior. In short, I must be perfect in all my ways or they will vote me out of office.”
“You’re human like the rest of us.”
Senator Keever smiled. “You know that and I know that but try telling it to the Ladies Quilting Society or a church group. Were they to learn I had a child out of wedlock it would be the scandal of the century.”
Fargo hadn’t considered that aspect. Politicians had it harder than he reckoned.
“Now, if you will excuse me.” Keever pushed back his chair. “I’ll go keep my wonderful child company for a while.”
Fargo gulped the last of the coffee in his cup. To make small talk, he said to Rebecca, “You have a fine family, ma’am.”
“Oh, please. My so-called husband is a pompous ass and my so-called daughter is the biggest brat alive and will no doubt grow up to be the biggest bitch alive, as well.”
Fargo didn’t know what to say so he said nothing.
“I see I’ve shocked you. I’d apologize for my strong language but I meant every word.” Rebecca leaned over and lowered her voice. “Take Fulton’s account with a large grain of salt.”
“Care to explain?”
“No. I’ve said too much as it is.” Rebecca rose. “Be careful, Mr. Fargo. Be very careful. Things aren’t as they seem. You’ve been nice to me so I’m giving you fair warning.”
“I could use more details,” Fargo said.
“You should leave. Now. Get on your horse and ride off and don’t look back. Otherwise, you could very well wind up dead.” Rebecca glanced apprehensively toward the others, then wheeled and strode into the tent. “I bid you good night,” she said as the flap closed behind her.
Fargo was dumbfounded. She sounded sincere. He wondered what she meant by that “dead” business? He refilled his cup, and pondered. It could be she was worried about the Sioux. He didn’t blame her. He was worried about the Sioux, too, especially after nearly taking an arrow in the back. That reminded him. Rising, he went over to the other fire.
Owen and Lichen and half a dozen others were hunkered around it. They stopped talking as he came up.
“I want an extra man to keep watch tonight and every night from here on out.”
“You do, huh?” Owen snickered.
Lichen said, “One has been enough so far. Why should we have to lose more sleep?”
“I saw a Sioux warrior today not far from here.”
That got them. Every last one sat up as if prodded with a pitchfork. Owen asked, “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”
“We’re in Sioux country. You should have expected it.” Especially, Fargo reflected, the closer they got to the Black Hills.
“I don’t like those red heathens,” a rawhide-complexioned gent by the name of Wiley mentioned. “There’s nothing they like more than lifting white hair unless maybe it’s slitting a white throat.”
“You’ll post the extra men?” Fargo said to Owen.
“Sure. And maybe you should make clear what we’re to do if they pay us a visit? Do we shoot them on sight or would you rather we don’t give in to itchy trigger fingers without your say-so?”
“Only shoot to kill if you have to.” Fargo turned to go.
“Say,” Owens said quietly. “About that disagreement you and me had earlier. No hard feelings? I might have been a little rude.”
Fargo considered pinching himself to make sure he was awake. “It’s over and done with.”
“Good. I admire an hombre who doesn’t hold a grudge.” Owen held out his calloused hand. “How about we shake?”
Fargo could hold a grudge as good as the next man, but he shook, anyway. Again he went to leave.
“Hold on there, mister,” Lichen said. “Folks say you’ve lived with the Sioux. Is that true?”
Fargo nodded.
“Then you must know them pretty well. Why don’t you pay one of their villages a visit and ask them to leave us be?”
Owen said, “The senator wouldn’t want him to do that.”
“Why not? Injuns are always willing to bend backward for Injun lovers like Fargo, here.”
Fargo kicked him, a short, hard kick to the chest that knocked Lichen flat on his back. Instantly, Lichen clawed for the knife on his hip but apparently he thought better of the notion and held his hands out from his sides. “You had no call to do that.”
“It’s what happens when you insult folks.”
“Calling you an Injun lover was an insult? I’d say it fits any gent who’s lived with them.”
“It’s not what you say,” Fargo set him straight. “It’s how you say it.” He left them to ponder that and went to the other fire. Senator Keever was lighting a pipe. Gerty was doodling in the dirt with a stick. “Mind if I join you?”
“I do,” Gerty said without looking up.
The senator chuckled. “Pay no attention to her. She thinks she can boss people around as she likes.”
“Usually I can,” Gerty said. “But not him. He never does anything I want him to. He’s as contrary as a mule.”
“When will you get it through your head that you can’t go around telling people what to do?”
“You do.”
Keever lowered his pipe. “That’s not quite true. In my capacity as a senator it might seem that way, but the only people who jump at my commands are my personal staff.”
“You boss all kinds of people. I’ve seen you,” Gerty persisted, still without looking up from her doodle. “You boss Rebecca around all the time.”
For the first time since Fargo met them, Keever showed a real flash of anger.
“She’s your mother and you will address her as such.”
“She’s not my real mother. I only call her that because you pay me to.”
Fargo wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “He pays you?”
Gerty glanced at him, deviltry on her face. “He pays me. Five dollars extra on my allowance. He has ever since I found out about my real mother.”
Senator Keever was pink in the cheeks. “Pay her no heed. She constantly forgets her station in life.”
Gerty laughed. “Father explained it to me once. How we all have our place. How it doesn’t do when those who are lower act as if they are higher. Like Rebecca.”
“I’m warning you,” Senator Keever said.
Bestowing her sweetest smile on him, Gerty replied, “Certainly, Father. Whatever you say, Father. I will always do as you wish, Father.”
“You can be a trial, little one.”
“I’m thirteen, Father. I’m not little anymore. But I’ll try harder to be as you want me to be. I won’t talk unless I’m spoken to. I’ll eat all my vegetables. I’ll say my prayers before bedtime. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
