Blackfeather
19 Warehouse
A SOLITARY BRASS BELL rang when we entered the shop. I had no idea where we were but it seemed like a city, so I assumed Omaha. I should have studied maps of that.
“We gon’ have some good fun with you now that your Ma and Pap are gone,” a young man said to the woman at the counter. Theresa! “You just relax and let me get my hands into this tight little bosom of yours.” He was behind the counter with her and had a hand on her blouse, working to open it.
“Let me go, you spurious cur!” Theresa cried.
I feel you, Demon Ramie. You are here. Please help me.
“We’re closed! Get out of the shop,” the fellow yelled at me. “This don’t concern you.”
I reached for the Colt Navy to find nothing at Miranda’s hip.
They can’t be worn in the city.
I lifted her foot and pulled the knife from her boot. Miranda quickly resigned complete control to me.
“The young woman said to let her go. Do so at once,” I growled. I’d almost forgotten how gravelly Miranda’s voice was. It no longer hurt as badly, but the beautiful musicality of her voice was gone forever.
“None o’ yer affair! This tart been teasin’ the help ever since she got here. Now she’s gonna pay.” Theresa squirmed and bit his hand. He reached across and slapped her face. That was all. I took two steps and leapt the counter. He pushed Theresa away and turned to swing at me. He hadn’t noticed I had a knife until I blocked his punch with it. One of his fingers fell to the floor with the impact as he drove the back of the blade into my forearm. He screamed and fell back holding his hand.
“A man who hits a lady deserves to have no hands,” I said as I advanced on him with the knife.
“I’ll kill you!” he yelled. But he was backing up and ran around the counter and out the door. At the last possible instant, Katie stuck out her foot and tripped him on the way out, slamming the door behind him and locking it as he sprawled on the dirty street. I picked up the finger. Two knuckles of his pinky.
“Katie,” I said, “pack this in salt until we can strip the meat from the bone. I’ll wear it as a necklace.”
“Yes… Husband Ramie,” the girl said. I guess I was recognizable when I arrived, even to Katie. I cleaned my blade and sheathed it, releasing Miranda’s body back to her control. Miranda rushed to Theresa to embrace her, but the frightened girl scooted away as quickly as she could.
“I suppose you want what he would take as well,” Theresa said. She grabbed the broom and swung at Miranda.
“No. No, sister.”
“I have no brothers.”
“No, you don’t,” Miranda agreed. “You have a stepsister to whom life has been unkind.”
“My stepsister died in Indiana,” Theresa said.
“Is that what they told you?” Katie said coming to the counter. She was a hard woman in the body of a still-pretty girl. “Your stepsister was sold by your father to become a Texas whore. She saved the lives of three other girls, including me, by killing our kidnappers. And to thank her for her kindness, one of those stupid girls attempted to strangle her and thus ruined her sweet voice. For over a year, her only thought has been to find her stepsister and make sure she did not suffer the same fate.”
“Miranda?” Theresa said, still holding the broom in front of her.
“I am so sorry, Theresa,” she said. “What Katie says is true. Mister Jonathan lost in a card game and used me to settle his debt.”
“You killed them?”
“My hands have killed three men, stepsister. They all deserved to die. Please do not think ill of me,” Miranda said. I could feel the tear run down her cheek. “Where is your father and my mother, Theresa? Why are you here alone where ruffians like this can attack you?”
“I am fifteen, Miranda. I should be able to run a mercantile,” Theresa said. Then she began crying, dropping the broom. “Miranda, I’m so frightened. My father is following the railroad. He sends orders to me and I fill them on the next car out. Your mother… Miss Dolly is ill. This was the first time I’ve come to the warehouse alone.”
“Can you take us to her, Theresa?”
“The next train is in two days. No one else has come to work today. I think they all knew I would be here alone. I can take you to your mother. It is… really you, is it not, Miranda?”
“For good or ill, it is really me. And this is my most faithful companion, Katie Forster. Please take me to my mother.”
It was a tearful reunion. Dolly did not believe it was her daughter until Miranda had removed her shirt and shown a birthmark beneath her left breast. Miranda had aged with the hardship of the trail and, at seventeen, was a somewhat gaunt and wiry woman whose breasts were still firm, probably thanks to the bindings that Katie kept wrapped around them. About as good as a sports bra, I suppose.
When she had heard the story fully, it was all we could do to keep Dolly in her bed. She swore she would hunt Jonathan down and kill him herself. She had not known Miranda was missing until the train was nearly a day away from Vincennes. They sent telegrams back to every station where they had stopped. They were in St. Louis when a message was returned from New Albany that said a body that matched the description had been found and buried. She wanted to go back, but Jonathan was intent on moving on to Omaha as quickly as possible.
“He had all our stock loaded on a barge that took us three weeks to get to Kansas City. In the face of winter storms, he left us in Kansas City and hired men to move the barge on to Omaha. He arrived here in December, in time to be on hand for the laying of the first rails west. We went by stage coach in the spring and already this warehouse was nearly full. Shipments were arriving by rail from Chicago and Jonathan was shipping them out to Columbus, Nebraska by the time we got here.” Mother stopped and coughed until she spit blood-caked phlegm from her mouth.
“What ails you, Mother?” Miranda asked as gently as her harsh voice could muster.
“I have consumption. Imagine. I, who have not a poetic bone in my body.”
“You have arrived to see my suffering once more,” Miranda moaned to me.
I am so sorry about your mother, Miranda. But I am glad I arrived when I did. We got here in time to save Theresa. That was your goal.
“She thinks I am hideous. And I am. Will I ever wear women’s weeds again?”
Have faith and give her time. I believe it would be a good idea to get a dress as soon as possible and start putting on a little weight if you can.
“It is still going to be hard work. But it feels so good to have my breasts unbound. I swear, Katie has wrapped them more tightly each time.”
She’s a good girl.
“You left me with… with my face… in her privities. What was I to do?”
Oh dear. You didn’t leave her hanging, did you?
“Hanging? If anyone finds out what I did, I’ll hang. I… finished what you started.”
It wasn’t that bad, was it?
“It was… pleasant when she returned the action.”
Did you repeat it?
“Once. Just before we left St. Joseph. It was most embarrassing but she can be insistent.”
Well, we girls must all stick together.
“Husband Ramie? Are you still here?” Katie whispered in my ear after Theresa was asleep.
“I’m here, Katie.”
“Will you lie with me, husband?” I felt Miranda cringe a little but she kept silent.
“Katie, honey, let us have consideration for the others in our bed tonight. Theresa has her back tight against mine and I would not disturb her.”
“But…”
“Shh, Katie, dear. Let me hold you and kiss you.”
Our kiss deepened and was accompanied by gentle caresses, but I did not let it get beneath the new nightgowns that we wore. While Theresa had been in a desperate place yesterday, the fact was that she was privileged and pampered. In all likelihood, she had been teasing the workers at the warehouse. She wasn’t unkind or spiteful, but I don’t think she thought about how her actions could be interpreted.
After Katie had drifted off to sleep, I lay awake a long time pondering the present situation. I was back in 1867. Miranda and Katie had done well as traders and arrived in Omaha with a larger wagon than that with which we had arrived in St. Joseph. With the gold that was left in our strongbox, we could set up business here in Omaha—go into competition with Theresa if we desired. I knew, however, that Miranda did not want that. We could combine what we had with the Mercantile, but I cringed at making Jonathan wealthier.
You were kind and considerate when Katie called.
“She has her needs as well.”
I am not… opposed. But thank you for considering how it might affect Theresa.
“You can always speak up, you know.”
It was such a relief to render you control when we faced that man. I would have done it, but I might not have been as effective.
“You’ve come a long way, Miranda. I’m proud of you.”
Will you be with me long?
“I don’t know. I never know how long.”
I miss you when you are not with me.
“I miss you, too, love. We will be too tired to work in the morning if we don’t sleep.”
Sleep, Friend Ramie. I will watch over your dreams.
The mercantile was more of a warehouse than a store. Theresa and Mother were responsible for receiving shipments ordered from Chicago and St. Louis. They shipped the weekly supplies needed for the traveling mercantile at the railroad worksite. Two sullen men arrived at work in the morning and found three women in charge. One was armed. They did their work. The one with a missing finger did not show up.
There was very little walk-in business. That was where Miranda spotted our opportunity.
“Theresa, we need more space for our expansion.” We had unloaded our wagon and the front of the shop was filled with skins and crafted goods from St. Joseph.
You’ve turned into quite a hunter.
“I had a very good teacher,” Miranda answered silently.
“We would have to get father’s permission to move to a larger space,” Theresa said. “What are we expanding to?”
“It is a new world, Theresa. We no longer need your father’s permission for anything. If he ever returns here, he will discover a business that no longer is his. People are moving west. When we approached Omaha, there were so many wagons that we waited two days to get across the river. None of them had the basic essentials needed for a successful journey. We will become outfitters for the pioneers.”
I could see the vision taking shape in Miranda’s head. It was a good idea. Some people would go by train to the places already settled, but many more would push into the open lands to homestead. They needed supplies for their journey—everything from picks and shovels to kitchen stoves and pans.
Homestead in a box. Exactly what is needed to start in the wilderness, all contained in a Conestoga wagon. Brilliant, Miranda.
“Thank you, Friend Ramie. We have work to do.”
And work we did. While Mother was no longer well enough to come to the warehouse, she was able to write orders that we sent to Chicago. We expanded into additional space next to the warehouse. We sold several top grade hides and received enough money to pay the rent until our first customers arrived. Katie proved brilliant at packing a wagon, keeping things needed on a daily basis near the top while things needed at the homestead were secured at the bottom of the wagon.
By mid-July, the first wagon packed by Ramie Lewis Outfitters rolled out of Omaha to join a wagon train to Colorado.
“Who is Ramie Lewis?” Theresa asked, as she watched Katie paint the name on our window.
“My husband,” Katie sighed. Theresa looked at her curiously and then turned to Miranda. Miranda, in turn, handed the conversation to me.
“When I arrived here, you thought I was a man,” I explained gently. “Our journey was not like we were used to in Baltimore or even what you found here in Omaha. There were only the two of us with no law or protection. It was safer to travel as husband and wife than it would have been as two women. Ramie is the name I chose as a man.”
“It is unusual,” Theresa said.
“It is short for Laramie,” Katie explained. When had I told her that?
“How lovely.” Theresa turned her attention back to Katie. “Sister Katie, you must tell me all about your travels… with your husband,” she whispered. The little imp grinned at me.
Mother’s health failed entirely in September and we laid her to rest just before Miranda’s eighteenth birthday. We debated long over telling Jonathan. Without a wife, we decided he would likely send a man to run the business or remarry. Neither were good options for us, so we simply did not tell him. The tracks had reached the border of the Dakota Territory and Jonathan wrote that they were in severe weather and he would not return to Omaha this winter. He wanted to move west as quickly as possible in the spring, to purchase a store in the farthest outpost before the mountains. That suited us fine. We used the winter months, when no wagons were leaving, to build our stock and continue supplying the needs of the railroad.
Omaha not only functioned to supply the West, but also to supply Chicago. The cattle yards were full and trains filled with beef on the hoof left for Chicago daily. We were expecting a shipment from Chicago on the day that fate took a new turn.
Miranda walked near the railroad toward the station. Every place in Omaha was near the railroad and chaos was the norm. There were the usual loading and unloading of cars and at the cattle pens, half a dozen cowboys were mounted and trying to drive herd up into a cattle car. One recalcitrant steer kept cutting out of line at the ramp and charging off in a different direction. This inevitably led to half a dozen others following and the loading stopped while order in the herd was restored. I loved watching and held Miranda in place as one more time the steer broke loose. This time, he spotted a gap between two cowboys and charged through it, leading half the herd with him. He hit the fence. It swayed a bit but held and would have been fine if the poke, who was after him, hadn’t thrown a rope and missed. The shadow flickered through the air and then the rope hit the leading steer. This caused the herd to surge after him and the fence gave way.
We had thirty head of cattle headed our way. Miranda was so shocked by the stampede that she froze. I could not rend control from her. I heard hooves and felt a strong arm around my waist that swept me up, out of the path of the stampede, and into the lap of a young cavalryman on his horse. The horse danced around a bit, but the cattle divided as a second man in buckskins drove them off the boardwalk.
The soldier gently lifted me down. I looked up into his face and Miranda’s heart did a double-flip.
“Corporal Jason Wardlaw at your assistance, Miss. I do hope you are unharmed. Please forgive my ungentlemanly handling of your person,” he said.
“You are timely in arriving. We have met before. Miranda Lewis, kind sir.”
“He told me,” the corporal whispered. He dismounted and bowed over Miranda’s hand. “I am so glad to see you here and safe. I have looked for you constantly as I journeyed.”
“Thank you,” Miranda squeaked. She started to turn away.
Oh no you don’t! You’ve been waiting for him since you were kidnapped from the train. I wrenched control away from Miranda and turned back toward the tall hero.
“Please forgive my hesitance. I have not yet caught my breath. I would be pleased to have you call this evening at Four Montgomery Street so I may properly thank you.”
“Miss Lewis, I would be delighted. This evening.” He tipped his hat slightly and turned to his horse. I saw Jason’s Indian friend still brushing the dust from his buckskins.
“Please, bring your friend as well. My sisters and I will make dinner for the two of you.” I relinquished control of Miranda and she sat on a bench. The corporal saluted her and rode to where the Indian was mounting his horse.
“What did you do that for? What am I supposed to do now?” Miranda was panicked.
Go home and prepare to receive a gentleman caller.
“But I have no idea what to do with a gentleman caller! I have no chaperone.”
You’re eighteen, Miranda. We’ve dreamed of that young man since he first rescued you in Maryland. You at least owe him dinner and a smile. If nothing else comes to mind, I’m sure he’ll have some ideas.
“But I…” Miranda was full of objections but our attention was drawn down the platform where a large black bird was hopping his way toward us pecking scraps out of the cracks between the boards. About ten feet away he looked up at us and I saw his one milky eye.
I think it’s time for me to go home. My ride is here.
“You can’t leave me now! Not with a man coming to visit me!”
The raven cried and I was gone.
Comments
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
