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  beautiful. I would spare nothing to show whoever had done this to me that I was not vanquished.

  Wrapping my arms around myself, I ran. People did stare at me, but

  I paid them no mind. Let me get home, I thought, let me be safe before

  whoever did this to me finds me again.

  Then an even worse fear hit me. What if I was not safe in that house?

  What if neither Billy nor Paddy were there? I was hungry and cold and

  tired and weak. I needed help.

  I nearly sat down on the street and wept. No place could be a safe ha-

  ven to me. If only Seamus would come back and help me fight this battle.

  Had he known what he was leaving me to when he escaped? I realized that

  I was too exhausted and scared to make any sense.

  Stepping into the doorway of a shop, I drew myself together. There

  was one place I knew I would be safe, where I could trust someone. I would go there and try to find my way out of this deeper hole I had fallen into.

  21

  “May I help you, my daughter?”

  The gentle voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I looked

  up into the kind face of Father Lonegran. He was dressed all in his dark priest clothes, and his round, white face glowed above the dark vestments like a moon rising over the hil s. A comforting sight indeed. I had been sitting in a pew at the back of the church with my hands folded in front of me, shaking from cold and from fright, and waiting for just such a heavenly vision.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I said honestly.

  He looked me over and said, “You need to put a few more clothes on

  and get some warm tea into you. Then we’ll talk.”

  He took me by the arm and led me out of the church. We entered a

  small house next door with a darkened room that served as kitchen, par-

  lor, and dining room. He mumbled to me that a priest’s needs were few.

  A round table was placed in front of a window with two chairs pulled

  up to it. A fire was going in the woodstove against the wall. Father Lonegran put on a kettle of water. Then he left the room and returned with a large wool sweater that he draped over my shoulders.

  “Sit,” he ordered in a gentle but firm voice and pushed me toward a

  rocking chair facing the fire.

  He bustled around his room and brought over a plate of bread and

  butter. A teapot sat waiting on a small table he had placed between the

  two of us.

  “My housekeeper isn’t here today. But she made the bread yesterday.

  It’s quite good. Please try some.”

  As I reached out to butter the bread, he caught sight of my wrists.

  “Good gracious, what has happened to you, young lady?”

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  The kettle whistled at that moment and we both jumped. “Let me get

  you some tea first.” He poured water into the teapot.

  “This is no good,” he mumbled to himself as he fussed about me.

  When the tea was ready, he poured me a cupful and watched me take a sip.

  When the warmth of the tea entered me, I felt I would swoon. “It hap-

  pened at the ball . . .”

  “That is why the dress . . . I see, I see,” he said thoughtfully.

  “Someone hit me on the head and I passed out. Then I was left at the

  bottom of a mining shaft under the town, trussed up like a chicken.”

  “Oh, dear, this is too much. For someone like you.” My story was too

  much for him to sit through, for he bobbed up and paced around me.

  “Go on,” he urged.

  So I told him all I knew— of how my brother had been blamed for

  Lily’s death, and how a man had grabbed me at the ball and warned me off of trying to find out who had really killed her, how I woke up to find myself in complete darkness. At the end, his round face had a pinched look and his hands were worrying each other. For myself, I felt done in. The

  warmth, the food, the comfort were all making me cave in on myself like

  an old mine shaft when the timbers have rotted through.

  After Father Lonegran had heard my story, he took charge. He sent a boy

  over to tell Padraic and Billy that I had been found and to ask them to

  bring me a change of clothes. Then he put me to bed in his featherbed with a big comforter and pillows with crisp cotton covers and a hot water bottle at my feet, and I slept for hours.

  When I woke, the light had almost faded from the sky and the house

  was very quiet. Then I heard a knocking. Footsteps moved through the

  house, the front door opened, and I heard Padraic’s voice.

  “I must see her,” he said outside the door.

  “I will go and fetch her. You sit down and mind the fire. She’s had a

  time of it.”

  After a moment, the door squeaked open and Father Lonegran’s

  round face peeked into the room. I lifted up my head and smiled at him.

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  “Awake, are we? Here, I’ve brought you some warm clothes, and if you

  feel up to it, there’s someone to see you.” Then he left me.

  In this small bed, I felt as warm and safe as I had felt in my life. Jesus smiled down on me from the far wall. His brown eyes were soft and forgiving, but a thin smile sat on his face. The world- weariness of his features made me feel closer to him.

  Throwing the covers aside, I pushed myself out of the bed and dressed

  in my old working clothes. But I put the priest’s sweater back on, a talis-man of my stay with him.

  When I stepped out into the small living area, Padraic leapt up from

  his chair and rushed to me, grabbing me by the arms. “You’re all right, are you, Brigid? I couldn’t stand it if anything were to happen to you.”

  “I’m fine, Padraic.” I looked him in the eyes.

  “Tell me what happened to you.”

  We sat and I told my story again, Father Lonegran nodding and prompt-

  ing me as I went. At the end Padraic shook his head. “This is too much. I never dreamt you were in such grave danger. You must leave here, Brigid.”

  “Where would I go? We need to finish with the claim.” I took his hand

  and calmed him. “Tell me what happened at the ball after I was taken.

  When did you discover my disappearance?”

  Padraic rubbed his face as if to clear his mind. He sat forward and

  warmed his hands by the fire. “You must give up this search for Lily’s killer.

  I could kick myself for not keeping you in my sight. The last I saw you, you were dancing with Charlie Hunt. You looked like you were enjoying

  yourself. He stopped.

  I remembered that moment.

  “Then I went in to supper and looked about for you but did not find

  you anywhere in the room. It must have been close to half an hour after

  midnight struck. I did not think that much of it until Hunt came running up to me. By this time, it was close to one o’clock in the morning. Such a state he was in. Said that you had had words and gone off. He claimed to have

  gone back to our house but found it dark and empty. Even after pounding

  on the door, he got no answer. Hunt begged us to help him find you. We

  rounded up Billy to help look for you. The night had turned cold and Mr.

  Hunt was much worried about you.”

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  “We first gave a thorough look of the hall and then put on our coats

  and followed him out into the night.” Padraic hung his head. “We’ve been at it ever since. It’s been a long night. I don’t know where they are now, but I’ll get word to them that you are all right.”

  “Hunt
might have been the one to have tied me up and left me.” I ut-

  tered my most horrible thought.

  Padraic nodded his head. “Oh, aye, I suppose it could have been him,

  he had the time, but I do not like to think of it. I’d hate to be doing business with the likes of such a man.”

  “We must do something about your wrists,” Father Lonegran inter-

  rupted, putting more water on to boil.

  He brought out some clean rags and a basin of water. Padraic placed

  himself opposite me with the bowl of hot water on his knees. He washed

  my wrists gently and cleaned them, then he wrapped each one in a neat

  bandage and fastened it securely with a pin.

  “You’ll come home with me now?” Padraic held both of my hands in

  his as if they were small birds and he was nestling them.

  That night Billy and Padraic cosseted me, making sure I was warm and

  comfortable. Paddy slept on the couch down in the parlor and I kept my

  door open. Sometimes I could hear him tossing from one side to the other.

  Toward morning, he began snoring and it lulled me back to sleep, the

  sound deep and rhythmic like the ocean waves I had been born near.

  I was forever grateful for these two good men, the closest thing I had

  to family.

  The next day, Padraic was in the way much of the time, insisting on doing all the chores for me. He even tried his hand at making some bread. He

  turned out a rather heavy loaf, but he was proud of it.

  Later in the day, he heated some water on the stove and had a look at

  my wrists. They were healing fine.

  “You might be left with a fine white line on your pretty wrists.”

  “It could have been so much worse.”

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  He put a hand to my lips. “Sh- sh- sh, Brigid. Don’t think it. It’s over.

  Naught will happen to you again.”

  Billy seemed almost shy around me, could barely meet my eyes. He

  brought me a piece of chocolate from the store, and I heated us some milk and we had hot chocolate in the late afternoon, all sitting around the fire.

  As we were drinking it, there was a knock at the door. Billy jumped

  up to answer it and came back to tell us that Charlie Hunt would like to see me.

  “I do not want to see him,” I said.

  “You’re safe enough here with us two,” Padraic told me.

  “He looked all night and day for you, Brigid. Can you not let him see

  your face so he’s reassured?” Billy asked.

  “I am not ready to see anyone. Tell him I’m resting. I don’t care what

  you tell him, simply make him go away.”

  Billy shook his head at me and went back to the door with my message.

  He returned moments later and stood in front of me to deliver Char-

  lie’s reply. “He said to say he understands. He would like to see you as soon as you feel ready to see anyone. Send a boy with a note to tell him when you are better. He also said how glad he is that you are alive and feeling wel . Then he gave me this to give you.” Billy handed me a long package of newspaper.

  I unrolled it and there was a flower, a lovely red rose with a few glossy leaves. However had he come to find such a rarity here in Deadwood in

  the middle of the winter? I lifted it to my nose and smelled. The sweet

  scent it gave off was all the more intoxicating because it should have been impossible to hold such a thing. The scent was almost as intoxicating as the thought of Charlie Hunt actually caring for me enough to search the

  night through and then bring me this rare gift. The stem was not long and the petals a faded red with a dark orange center, but I fetched a cup of water for it to serve as a vase.

  A card was tucked into the newspaper. I opened it and read:

  To my wild Irish rose.

  Thank goodness you are found.

  Charlie

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  Billy gave a chuckle as he looked at the flower in its white cup. “He

  means to have you, doesn’t he?”

  “It’s nothing to you, I hope,” I answered, joking with him.

  “After we’ve got our money for the claim, I don’t give a care what you

  do with him. Although I will say I think you’d be better off with one of your own and not that stuffed shirt.”

  22

  January 3, 1879

  Padraic was my shadow, staying with me in the house. He was quiet

  and easy to be with. We talked of what we might do when we sold

  the claim. He had a mind to go farther west and start a business in one

  of the new towns that were springing up on the prairies. The first thing I wanted to do was see my brother again, then we would make plans to

  bring the rest of the family to America.

  “Who knows, I might set myself up in business too.”

  “And what would you sel ?” Paddy asked.

  I didn’t have to think long. “Books,” I said. “I’d love to have a whole

  store full of books.”

  He laughed. “Are you sure you’d make any money? I can see you read-

  ing them all.”

  “I would indeed— the better to sell them.”

  “Even I would buy a book from you.”

  This was high praise, for I was not sure Paddy could read a word.

  By the third day of the new year, I felt that I was recovered enough to go out on the town. I had determined to see the sheriff and tell him what I knew, how I had been threatened for trying to find out the truth of Lily’s death. If he was the smart gentleman he should be, he might be able to help us all. I was somewhat surprised the sheriff hadn’t come to hear my story.

  After the noon meal, Padraic and I argued while clearing the table.

  “I’m going out today,” I told him, knowing full well that it would raise some comment.

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  “That’s fine. Will do you good. I’ll go along with you, if you don’t

  mind.”

  I held a stack of dishes and looked directly at him so that I might see

  his expression. “I’m going to see the sheriff.”

  He tightened his eyes until they were thin lines sunk into his face. He

  looked as if he were facing into a dust storm off the prairies. “He’s a horse’s ass and there’s no one in this town who will say different.”

  “So you say.”

  “Let me tell you a story.” This was Padraic’s way. I had learned it well in my past few days with him. Everything brought out a story in him. “Sheriff Manning had heard that the treasurer, a little fel a name of Brigham, was doing something shady with the town’s funds, so he went to look over the records. When he got to Brigham’s office, he found the man opening the

  safe as if ready to make off with the money. Brigham slammed the safe door into Manning and Manning pulled his gun and held it a foot away from the fellow’s head. Only the fact that the gun failed to fire saved the man’s life.”

  “Was Brigham guilty?”

  “Wel , yes, in fact he was. But Manning would have given him no

  chance to prove otherwise.”

  I wiped the table clear of our crumbs and pushed the chairs in. “Char-

  lie has spoken well of him.”

  “Charlie has money. Money speaks louder than a tornado in this

  place.”

  “I mean to see him.”

  Padraic smiled and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, this is no sur-

  prise. “And I mean to go along with you.”

  “You may do that, Paddy.”

  “I won’t see the man, but know that I will be waiting outside his office for you if you have need of me.”

 
For most of the walk, we did not speak. I had some hope that I could

  reason with the sheriff and that when he had heard of my abduction, he

  would realize that whoever had killed Lily was still in town and meant

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  to do me harm. This would pull him off Seamus’s tail, and we could send

  word to call him back to Deadwood to help us negotiate the claim. I was

  to the point where I didn’t care so much if they found out who killed Lily; I simply wanted the attention diverted from Seamus so we could conclude

  the sale of the claim and leave this wretched place.

  “It’s too bad we’re not dealing with Bullock,” Padraic finally said as we crossed the street. I held his arm as we walked. He steered me around a big mud puddle the warmer weather had caused.

  “Bullock?”

  “Seth Bullock was the sheriff before Manning took over. Now there

  was a man. As smart as they come.”

  “I suppose you’ve got some story to tell on him.”

  “There’s a good one, to be sure.” He launched into it. “The miners

  over at the Aurora Mine weren’t happy about the money they were paid

  and they decided to sit it out. They moved into the tunnel, set up a stove right under an air shaft to keep themselves warm, and declared they would not budge until the management agreed to their demands. The owners

  brought in the cavalry and a cannon from Fort Meade, and it looked

  like blood would be spilled before the dispute was settled. Then Bullock showed up.”

  “The hero to save the day?”

  “He was indeed. He was carrying a small brown box and grinning

  from ear to ear. He climbed up the mountain to the air shaft and dumped

  in the contents of the package— asafetida— which smel s worse than

  skunk spray. Those miners couldn’t get out of the shaft fast enough.”

  We reached the town’s offices on, appropriately enough, Deadwood

  Street. The building was built right over a small creek called City Creek, which emptied into the Whitewood. Padraic said he had some supplies

  to get and he would meet me back in a quarter of an hour. I stood on the front steps of the Deadwood City Hall and wished I did not feel so alone.

  But I knew that I had to learn to count on myself if I was to get ahead in this world the way I was determined to.