her—and perhaps he had. Several break-ins and fights had been attributed to his gang, but the citizens were helpless to stop them—just as the other men were helpless to stop him from dancing with Grace now.
Sheriff Pugh was rumored to be one of the desperadoes and he didn’t bother to enforce the law. Judge Barnum tried to hold them accountable, but without the support of the sheriff, it was pointless.
The gang members rarely showed their faces in the Northern, but they were frequent customers at Dew’s place, a brothel and saloon south of town, near the river.
Why had Hugh come? Was it simple curiosity to meet the Bell sisters? Or was he looking for trouble?
Hugh’s cronies peppered the edge of the dance floor, waiting for their turn to dance with Elizabeth and Grace. They would have to contend with over eighty prospective grooms who stood nearby—not to mention Jude, who suddenly felt a deep responsibility to make sure Clarence’s daughters married well.
Elizabeth rubbed her temples as she squinted at the ledger and put in the appropriate numbers from a receipt. A soft breeze blew in through the open window of her sitting room and ruffled the green pages of the book.
She had wanted to work on the books yesterday, but getting ready for the dance had prevented her from finding the time. Now, hours after they had come home from church and finished the lunch dishes, she was in her room working to balance their accounts and fix all the errors Jude had made in the past month. She didn’t like to work on Sundays, but she was eager to get a better understanding of the business.
Memories of the previous evening made her smile when she recalled all the fun she’d had dancing. Ben had proven to be an entertaining partner and she’d enjoyed their one dance, but the others had been just as eager to please her.
Jude had stood on the outer circle of the dance floor all evening and watched. Not once had he approached her to dance and it had disappointed her more than it should. The one sour note in her evening had been the inordinate amount of time Grace had spent with a gentleman named Hugh Jones. He had monopolized her time and Grace had allowed it.
The clock chimed three times. She should go down and help Martha with supper preparations, but for some reason spending time in the ledger, adding and subtracting from the figures her father had entered, made her feel close to him. It had been years since she’d felt any sort of bond to the man who had walked out of their lives and left her to pick up the pieces.
She looked back at the last column she’d added and paused when a strange noise filled the air from outside. It sounded like a drum—yet it was playing a beat she’d never heard before.
Elizabeth stood and walked to the window that looked out over the tops of the buildings all around her. The Northern stood higher and prouder than most. Her mother would have loved this hotel. It was exactly what she and Papa had dreamed of owning.
The sound grew louder and soon a chant rose above the drum—yet she couldn’t see anything from her position at the back of the hotel.
“Lizzie!” Rose ran into the room from the hallway. She had been spending the afternoon with Martha, who had invited her to go on a walk. “Come quick! Mr. Jude said I must ask you if I may watch the war dance.”
“War dance?” Elizabeth’s chest tightened at the ominous name. “What are you talking about?”
Rose ran across the room and took Elizabeth’s hand, pulling until they were standing in the hallway. “It’s right outside our front door!” Rose squealed in delight.
“There’s a war dance in front of the hotel?” Concern filled Elizabeth as she raced down the hall with Rose close behind. “Where is Mr. Jude?”
“He’s in the lobby waiting for me.”
They came to the stairs and descended to the lobby, where a crowd of guests had gathered at the windows. Jude stood among them, his gaze directed outside.
Elizabeth lifted Rose and pushed through the crowd. “Pardon me.”
A young man moved aside just as Jude turned toward her.
“Is it all right if I go outside now?” Rose asked.
“No, you may not go outside.” Elizabeth held her sister tight and addressed Jude. “What’s happening?”
“There’s no need to worry. It’s just a war dance.”
“No need to worry!” Her voice was louder than she intended and she glanced around her to find several people looking in her direction. She spoke quieter. “A war dance?”
“It’s not really a war dance. They’ve already been to war and now they’re celebrating.” He stepped aside and motioned out the window. “The Chippewa are not here to hurt us. Have a look.”
Elizabeth walked to the window and looked outside. Directly in front of the Northern a large circle of Indians danced to the rhythm of a drum. A man sat on the ground with a drum positioned in front of him and he beat it with a stick. In the center of the circle, three young women held long poles with hoops at the end. These poles were beautifully ornamented with ribbons and bells and scraps of red cloth. In the outer circle, at least a dozen men and women danced in single file, crouching low and then jerking upright, lifting one foot and then the other. They stepped out on their toes and then came down on their heels in a movement that looked awkward, yet mesmerizingly beautiful at the same time. Their leggings and tunics had tassels and other colorful ornaments dangling from them.
“They wear bells on their clothing, so it makes noises when they dance.” Jude spoke from right behind her. “It really is perfectly safe.”
Someone opened the door and a few people left the lobby to stand on the porch.
“Would you like to go out and see it closer?” he asked.
She put her hand to her throat and shook her head. “No, thank you.”
The noise grew more intense and another peek outside revealed that more Indians had joined the dance and now several townspeople had come out to watch.
Sunshine beat down and the dancers began to glisten with sweat. More than one warrior was among them. Their feathers bounced in their hair and their loincloths rippled around their waists. They looked fierce. If this was a celebration, why did no one look happy?
Some had hatchets hanging from ropes at their waists and more than one wore a rifle slung over his back.
Rose wiggled out of Elizabeth’s arms and tugged on her skirt. “Let’s go out and see, Lizzie.”
“No.” Elizabeth shook her head. “I don’t want you out there.”
“Are you afraid?” Jude asked.
Everything inside her demanded that she run back to her room, lock her doors and cover her ears until the sound went away. But then she remembered his earlier implication that she was too weak to withstand life on the frontier. This was part of that life. She couldn’t show fear now. If she did, she’d just prove him right—and she couldn’t do that.
She
