The Streel Page 14

  the delicious ice cream to my mouth, but at his words it hung in the air.

  Then as he spoke, I swallowed, but the ice cream had lost its taste.

  “Yes, I know you believe he’s innocent, but I have to tell you I spoke

  with the sheriff yesterday.”

  “Why?” I put my spoon down.

  “On your behalf.”

  His presumption inflamed me. “How did you dare to do that?”

  “I was only looking out for you and your brother.”

  “And what gave you the authority to do that?” I found my voice rising.

  “Calm down. I know the man. I thought I could find out how he was

  thinking on the matter, for you.”

  I knew I needed to hear him out. Maybe he had good news for me.

  Charlie Hunt, after all, was a powerful man in this town. “Go on.”

  “He has asked around, and no one saw anyone with Lily except your

  brother that night. A number of witnesses saw them leave the party to-

  gether.” He shook his head. “I have to say, it doesn’t look good for Seamus.”

  I sat stunned. This was not the news I wanted to hear. I needed to

  make Charlie believe me. “He did not do it.”

  “Brigid.”

  “Don’t use that tone of voice with me as if you are trying to get me to

  be reasonable.”

  He said nothing.

  I thought how to convince him of my brother’s innocence. “Let me

  ask you this. If someone came bursting in here right now and said that

  your mother killed your sister, would you believe them?”

  “Of course not. There’s no comparison.”

  “Yes, there is. Seamus does not have a violent nature, and I would

  know better than anyone else, for I have lived with him most of my life.

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  That’s my first point. My second is this: he was in love with Lily. He had asked her to marry him and she had said yes. Those were the first words

  out of his mouth that next morning. Now, does that sound like a man who

  had killed someone?”

  “Brigid, he was drunk. The drink can cause people to act in ways they

  would not otherwise.”

  I decided it was time to pull out my final point. “Yes, he was drunk.

  He walked the woman he loved home. Then he came home alone himself,

  singing as he went. Our neighbor heard him. He was singing. Now, I ask

  you again, does that sound like a kil ing man?”

  Charlie looked me in the eyes and said what I wanted to hear, “No,

  Brigid, it does not.”

  “Then why are you tormenting me this way?”

  “Because you might be able to convince me of your brother’s innocence, but I doubt you could do the same with the sheriff, and he’s the one who matters. This is a rough town, and laws don’t hold the same here as

  they did back in the States.”

  I looked down at my plate. Disappointment flooded me. Charlie did

  not want to believe me. Maybe having Seamus out of the way, he thought,

  would work to his advantage. The last bit of my ice cream had melted into a puddle. “I want to go home now.”

  “You won’t stay a while longer?”

  I couldn’t believe I had been considering Charlie Hunt as an ally,

  maybe even a friend. If he did not understand that my brother’s safety

  meant everything to me, he did not know me very wel . “No, I think our

  business is finished. I thank you for the fine meal.”

  I stood.

  He stayed seated. “Have I offended you by speaking so bluntly?”

  “Your family is safe and well in St. Paul. I do not think you understand what my brother’s wel - being means to me.” I turned and made for the

  door with a heavy heart.

  Charlie followed me, grabbing my arm. “I’ll take you home. My car-

  riage is waiting out front.”

  “Are you sure you want to be seen with the sister of a murderer?”

  “Brigid, don’t act like that.”

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  A young woman brought my wrap and Charlie helped me into it. The

  carriage was called and he handed me up and then climbed in next to me.

  He covered our knees with the blanket and took my gloved hand in his.

  While I did not pull my hand away, I refused to say anything to him until we were close to my house. My feelings were in an uproar: what did Charlie want of me? Why would he not help my brother? Is he trying to hide

  something? When exactly had he come back to Deadwood?

  When I pulled my hand away, he said, “Don’t be angry with me,

  Brigid. Not when we have just come to an understanding.”

  I stopped long enough to say, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.

  Any understanding will have to wait until my brother’s name is cleared.”

  18

  December 29, 1878

  The next morning, I heard stirring out in the big room and lay abed

  for a while, thinking of last night. Charlie Hunt wanted to have

  an understanding with me. Last night I had actually felt like he saw me as a real woman, not just a servant to be teased. In the carriage on the way home, he had not tried to take advantage of me. Maybe he was tel ing me

  the truth about my brother’s situation and I was just not wil ing to listen to him. After all, he never said that he thought my brother had killed Lily, just that it looked bad for Seamus.

  This could have been a happy day for me, but I felt the weight of my

  brother’s troubles more heavily than ever. I also felt my head throbbing and my eyes would not focus as they should. The wine that I had drunk

  last night was still swimming in me. I could hardly think of a good reason to get out of bed.

  I couldn’t help but wonder why I was so resistant to Mr. Charlie Hunt.

  He had wit and charm, that was sure. He had more money than I could

  comprehend. He was handsome and well spoken. And yet . . .

  In the middle of our meal last night, he had asked me to attend the

  New Year’s Eve ball with him, but I told him I must go with my broth-

  er’s friends. In a part of my heart I wanted to give Charlie a chance, but I was not at all sure I trusted him. In the past month or so, I had come to trust no one. Even my own brother was, in certain moments, a subject of

  uncertainty.

  I so wished Seamus were here with me, tel ing me what I should do. I

  missed him more than when I had not seen him for years. Our short time

  together had only left me wanting more. He was my family.

  I prayed to St. Brigid as my dear mother would have advised.

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  When I walked out into the kitchen, Nel ie was sitting at the table dressed in a flannel shirt of Billy’s. While I wasn’t surprised to see her there, I still felt uncomfortable with the impropriety of the situation. I had put on an old dark work dress of mine, as I intended to get some chores done around the house today. The room was warm and I was glad for that. Nel ie had

  the cookstove going.

  I greeted Nel ie. “Top of the morning to you.”

  “What makes it the top, I’d like to know. I made some buns. They’ll

  be out of the oven in a minute. Wouldn’t you just like something nice and warm inside of you.” She cackled.

  I ignored her joke and asked, “What has become of Billy and Paddy?”

  “The two of them hightailed it out of here at dawn’s first light. Had to get to the claim. Ain’t you three up to sell that piece of land or something?

  Sounds like a good idea to me. Backbreaking work that mining is, and


  there’s much better ways of striking gold here in old Deadwood.”

  “Yes,” I agreed as I slid into a chair opposite her. Nel ie was in full

  bloom this morning, her hair wild around her face. Everything about her

  was a little bigger than it should be, an umbrel a opened to its fullest.

  “I heard you went out on the town last night.” She poured me a cup of

  coffee and slid it across the table to me.

  “I did.”

  “Did you have a good time?”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  “And what manner is that?”

  I did not want to talk to Nel ie about my relationship with Charlie

  Hunt. “I had a fine meal. We talked business.”

  “Righto. Indeedy. What kind of business?” Cackling again, she

  watched me carefully.

  I should have known better than to think she would take any subtle

  hint from me. She might back off if I gave her some information. “You

  know I worked for Mr. Hunt’s family. Wel , he had news to tell me of them.

  And then of course there is the claim. We discussed that a bit. All in all, it

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  went wel , I think.” I took a sip of my coffee and it seemed to rush straight to my brain. I needed my wits about me, so I was glad for the sensation.

  “Oh, that Charlie. He is a sweet talker. You’re a lucky lady.”

  “Nel ie, what can you mean?”

  “Listen, I know the man myself. He likes a pretty woman, and you are

  one of the better specimens here in Deadwood. Ask yourself why he got

  back to town right on your heels.”

  “When exactly did he get back to Deadwood? Do you know,

  Nel ie?”

  That shut her up for a moment. Her eyes looked around the kitchen

  while she thought. “I’ve a mind that it was a day or two after Lily was killed.”

  “After?” I asked, to be sure.

  “I can’t speak for sure when he got here, but he paid his respects

  shortly after his arrival.”

  Nellie whooped up out of her chair and opened the oven with the

  flannel shirt tucked around her hand so she wouldn’t burn it. “Look at

  those buns. Nice and golden. Won’t we just feast now?” She pulled them

  out of the oven and set the pan on the table between us. Butter and knives were already there, and a big jar of golden syrup.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “Oh, that’s the best honey you’ll ever find. Comes from the bees of the

  prairies. Try it on your bun.”

  I slathered a bun with butter and honey and took a big bite. “Deli-

  cious,” I told Nel ie.

  “I aim to please,” she said between bites.

  “Nel ie, what was Charlie’s relationship with Lily?”

  Nel ie laughed. “Easy, you might say. He liked her fine, he did. Treated her right. Gave her presents and good money, too. But he had his use for her and that was that.”

  I ate more of my bun. “What was Lily’s story?” I asked.

  “Oh, now that’s a good one. Let me pour us both another cuppa.” She

  filled up our coffee cups and settled in.

  “This is like I heard it from herself. Lily grew up in Chicago. Came

  from a decent family. Her mother was a seamstress and her father was a

  teacher. I don’t think they had much money, but she was well loved and

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  looked after. Lily got a job early in a dress shop that her mother did sewing for. She was probably only sixteen, but already a looker.”

  Nel ie pulled out a package of tobacco and a thin sheet of paper from

  a pocket in the shirt and proceeded to roll herself a cigarette as she kept talking. I had never seen a woman do this before and was nearly as fascinated with the care she took in the rol ing, the tamping, the twisting as I was by the story she was tel ing me. “One day a fine gentleman walked in and wanted to buy something for his mother. Lily helped him out. He continued to come in from time to time and finally asked her out for a walk. He was only a bit older than her and came from a very wel - to- do family, you know the kind. After they had been stepping out together for a few months, he up and proposes to her. Wel , Lily can’t hardly believe her good fortune.

  The boy, his name was Lucas, takes her home to his family. His mother is none too happy about all this. She’s an old battle- ax with a broom up her butt, don’t mind my language.” Nel ie stopped to take a puff on her cigarette and then blew out a cloud of smoke.

  “However, the father takes quite a shine to Lily. So much so, that a

  few days later, he stops by the shop to see Lily. He tel s her that he is quite happy about his son’s decision to marry her, but that he would like to get to know her a little better himself. She thinks that is fine. A few days later, he asks her to dine with him at a restaurant in a fancy hotel. His son has gone away for a few days and Lily is delighted to meet with the father. She can’t believe her good fortune that she is to marry into this family. But then the old bastard gets the poor gal drunk and takes her up to a room afterwards.”

  Nel ie’s voice roughened as she came to the hard part of the story. She took a final puff on her cigarette and stubbed it out on the underside of the table.

  “Lily doesn’t remember quite all that happens, but she finds herself

  naked in the bed in the morning when she wakes. Once the old fellow has

  had a taste of her, he won’t give it up, and he threatens to tell his son if she doesn’t go along with him. Lily doesn’t know what to do, but she gives in to him. Then one night she meets the old man at the hotel. They skip dinner this time and go right to the room. When she’s in the blankets with the old man, the door pops open. The son walks in. He has a gun. He shoots

  his father. He slaps Lily and walks out. She dresses and sneaks out herself.

  The next day, the son finds her and gives her some money and tel s her to

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  leave the city. If she stays, he says, he will go to the police and tell them that she killed his father. They already think that’s what happened anyway.”

  Nel ie ate the last morsel of her bun and licked each of her fingers. “It did something to Lily. Made her a little loco. To have come that close to a huge pile of cash and then to have lost it all. She left Chicago and went out to Denver. She had no trouble making money. Then when she heard

  about Deadwood, she decided to try her hand here. I met her my first day in Deadwood about a year ago, and we were best friends ever since.”

  There were tears in Nel ie’s eyes, but she ignored them. “There weren’t

  nothing bad about Lily. She just stirred things up by being who she was.”

  I had heard of such things happening to girls. Such tales made the

  rounds among the servants I worked with, but it was still awful to hear one told of someone my brother had loved. I was sad that I hadn’t known her

  better.

  “Do you think that she and Seamus would have been happy?”

  Nel ie laughed and threw up her hands. “Now, that’s a stupid question if I ever heard one. No one can predict happiness. We all of us are just trying to get by in this here life. I think they had an understanding of each other. Both of them had suffered hardships. You know Seamus’s better than anyone.

  There was love there. There was more than that. Lily had given a part of herself to Seamus that she didn’t to most men, if you get what I’m trying to say.”

  I nodded.

  Nel ie smiled at me. “It’s like me and Billy here. Don’t get me wrong,

  we’re not going to up and marry. That’s for neither of us right now. But Billy sees me as who I am, and he’s the man I want to spend my time with when I
’m not working. Sometimes, we just sleep together, nice and quiet

  like. It’s enough.”

  In part of myself I was shocked. I could not believe I was talking like this with a sporting woman and prayed my mother was not watching from on

  high. And yet Nel ie said it all so matter- of- fact that it was hard to take offense.

  What would I come to, here in the Black Hil s? “I know so little of these things.”

  “That’s one of the good things about you, Brigid. You’re fresh and

  young. Don’t waste it. You make that Charlie Hunt marry you before you

  give him a taste.”

  19

  New Year’s Eve, 1878

  The start of the ball was only an hour away, and my beautiful dress

  was finished and laid across my bed in the back room. I smoothed

  the silk fabric with my hand and reveled in the luxury of it. I felt like Cin-derel a about to go to her first ball. After all, I certainly had swept out my share of fireplaces, cinders and all. Never had I worn such a dress or even imagined wearing one in my whole life.

  But I couldn’t stop thinking about my brother and wishing he was

  here with us to celebrate. I swore to myself that I would continue my quest to find out what happened to Lily as soon as the new year began. Maybe

  even at the dance. With that thought easing my mind, I picked up the dress to put it on.

  Earlier that day, I had managed a bath in the tub in the kitchen while

  Padraic and Billy had been at the claim. Elizabeth had fixed up my hair

  again and I had tried to help her arrange her own, although I was not as skilled as she. She showed me the dress that she was to wear and it was

  lovely, even if she did apologize for its oldness, saying it had been the latest style a year ago in Philadelphia. To me it looked like the height of fashion.

  I was glad to have a woman friend to help me with my toilet. There had

  been little time for friendship when I had been working.

  I had to call Billy down to help me with my corset. I hardly ever wore

  one and needed a strong hand to pull it tight. At the Hunts’ I would have asked one of the other maids to help me.

  I told Billy to look the other way and put the ends of the ties into his hands. As he pulled, I attempted to fasten it shut, breathing in and holding my breath until another hook was clasped. The top of the corset squeezed my ribs until they felt as if they might snap like kindling.