illness.” She added, “I’m glad you’ve recovered.”
“I had until about five minutes ago,” I said, holding my hands over my heart. That made her laugh, though briefly.
“I will see you in town, William. Don’t be such a fool as to come again.”
I waited until she’d entered the courtyard, then walked back to the settlement.
So, Alene Chevalier had gotten married to a dandy from St. Louis who’d lowered himself to take her on after losing everything else, then had gotten himself killed while hunting. I remembered how she’d cut me when Layton and Bailey were with her, and now I understood why. She was angling for Bailey and had not wanted me to interfere. She had succeeded in her venture. She’d married the gentleman, which was a wonderful match for her and ought to have secured her future, but Bailey had managed to get himself killed at the worst moment and left her without his fortune but with his debts. Now she was stranded in the settlement.
It was a comedown for her, to be sure, but it left the door open for me. I think a more compassionate man than me would have noted the possibilities of the situation, particularly as I was flush after the half season.
Back in the settlement I heard the whole story from the blacksmith Higgenbottem, a stringy mulatto who worked bare-chested and made wonderful beaver traps for a dollar less than they cost in St. Louis.
“From what I heard his friend Layton killed some ship’s captain in a duel in St. Louis and Bailey acted as his second. In return Layton invited him into a land deal. Bailey signed the deal and funded it, and when it was found to be fraudulent, Layton battled in court, and Bailey, blasted by his father, did the brave thing and made a dash for the territories. The first day in he tossed two gold coins in the dirt. Didn’t even get off his horse. ‘Make me twelve traps.’ Twelve. As if he could even keep track of half that number. On the second week some barefoot urchin from Frankfurt, Kentucky, stole a silver shaving kit. Fancy thing with his initials. Bailey demanded satisfaction. The kid could not have been more than sixteen years old. I’m not even sure he knew what he wasagreeing to. The next morning they met out on the mud flats. The boy, being from Kentucky, knew how to handle a weapon. He fired and grazed Bailey’s neck. Bailey fired in the air. An honorable gesture, given that he’d just been shot. Afterward, Bailey shook the kid’s hand and gave the shaving kit as a token. Don’t know what to make of the dandy. Throwing the money in the dust like some blackguard. Then firing in the air like an honorable man. And then giving the shaving kit. I suppose he would have turned out all right if given half a chance. In three months he had lost his gut and was learning to use his weapon. Said he was having a wonderful time. He’d gone out hunting with only a native scout and one other soldier. Had a skirmish with the Sioux. Then came across an elk and while getting after it his horse stepped in a badger hole. That was it for the horse and Bailey. The widow’s a half-breed they say but she seems like a Frenchy if I ever saw one. Can read and write like any professor. She said she’d teach me.”
“Imagine that,” I said.
“I got no mind for it.”
The mulatto doused a glowing horseshoe, sizzling, in a barrel of water.
“Four soldiers have proposed. She turned them all down. ‘In mourning,’ she says. Some say she’s trolling the waters. I say these waters aren’t deep enough for her. You have a mind to try your hand at it, I see.”
“Why not?” I laughed.
“Yes. Why not? All the same …”
The next morning I was outside the infirmary again, ignoring Alene’s advice not to visit. After some minutes of idling Alene came to the door and waved me off. She did not walk out to greet me but started sweeping up and a moment after that a mustached nun who put beaver traps around the fruit trees in the garden tokeep the
“I had until about five minutes ago,” I said, holding my hands over my heart. That made her laugh, though briefly.
“I will see you in town, William. Don’t be such a fool as to come again.”
I waited until she’d entered the courtyard, then walked back to the settlement.
So, Alene Chevalier had gotten married to a dandy from St. Louis who’d lowered himself to take her on after losing everything else, then had gotten himself killed while hunting. I remembered how she’d cut me when Layton and Bailey were with her, and now I understood why. She was angling for Bailey and had not wanted me to interfere. She had succeeded in her venture. She’d married the gentleman, which was a wonderful match for her and ought to have secured her future, but Bailey had managed to get himself killed at the worst moment and left her without his fortune but with his debts. Now she was stranded in the settlement.
It was a comedown for her, to be sure, but it left the door open for me. I think a more compassionate man than me would have noted the possibilities of the situation, particularly as I was flush after the half season.
Back in the settlement I heard the whole story from the blacksmith Higgenbottem, a stringy mulatto who worked bare-chested and made wonderful beaver traps for a dollar less than they cost in St. Louis.
“From what I heard his friend Layton killed some ship’s captain in a duel in St. Louis and Bailey acted as his second. In return Layton invited him into a land deal. Bailey signed the deal and funded it, and when it was found to be fraudulent, Layton battled in court, and Bailey, blasted by his father, did the brave thing and made a dash for the territories. The first day in he tossed two gold coins in the dirt. Didn’t even get off his horse. ‘Make me twelve traps.’ Twelve. As if he could even keep track of half that number. On the second week some barefoot urchin from Frankfurt, Kentucky, stole a silver shaving kit. Fancy thing with his initials. Bailey demanded satisfaction. The kid could not have been more than sixteen years old. I’m not even sure he knew what he wasagreeing to. The next morning they met out on the mud flats. The boy, being from Kentucky, knew how to handle a weapon. He fired and grazed Bailey’s neck. Bailey fired in the air. An honorable gesture, given that he’d just been shot. Afterward, Bailey shook the kid’s hand and gave the shaving kit as a token. Don’t know what to make of the dandy. Throwing the money in the dust like some blackguard. Then firing in the air like an honorable man. And then giving the shaving kit. I suppose he would have turned out all right if given half a chance. In three months he had lost his gut and was learning to use his weapon. Said he was having a wonderful time. He’d gone out hunting with only a native scout and one other soldier. Had a skirmish with the Sioux. Then came across an elk and while getting after it his horse stepped in a badger hole. That was it for the horse and Bailey. The widow’s a half-breed they say but she seems like a Frenchy if I ever saw one. Can read and write like any professor. She said she’d teach me.”
“Imagine that,” I said.
“I got no mind for it.”
The mulatto doused a glowing horseshoe, sizzling, in a barrel of water.
“Four soldiers have proposed. She turned them all down. ‘In mourning,’ she says. Some say she’s trolling the waters. I say these waters aren’t deep enough for her. You have a mind to try your hand at it, I see.”
“Why not?” I laughed.
“Yes. Why not? All the same …”
The next morning I was outside the infirmary again, ignoring Alene’s advice not to visit. After some minutes of idling Alene came to the door and waved me off. She did not walk out to greet me but started sweeping up and a moment after that a mustached nun who put beaver traps around the fruit trees in the garden tokeep the
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