Free Fireblossom by Cynthia Wright

for which he was paying Charles H. Wagner a dollar a night. A night's sleep at the Grand Central Hotel, its upper floor still under construction, was worse than sleeping on the ground. The drunken geezer who occupied the bunk above Fox's snored like a steam engine, while the foul-mouthed boy who curled on the floor nearby had a case of lice so severe that it inspired him to scratch and curse most of the night.
    Because his own sleep was constantly disrupted by the activities of his roommates, Fox remembered his nightly dreams. The first, in which he was happily among the Lakota people, was pleasant but unnerving. They behaved with great kindness and hospitality toward him, but he would feel as if he had secrets that came between them. Fox's newer dream featured Lt. Colonel George Armstrong Custer. The dream was never quite the same twice, but it generally contained scenes in which he argued with Custer. There was always a sense of lost control; Fox would try to reason with the man, feel anger rising, and soon they would be shouting. Custer would become more irrational, more furious, and then Fox would wake up, his heart pounding in his ears.
    If not for the mud, Fox would have camped on his new land. Fortunately he had the money to pay an enterprising Cornish miner named Titus Pym to speed along the process of erecting a structure he could call home. First, both men devoted two full days to combing every inch of dirt one more time and came up with more than a hundred dollars' worth of gold dust, which Fox used to pay Titus in advance for his help. They also hit upon a deep cache of nuggets for which Fox subsequently received more than a thousand dollars. The money would come in handy. Building a cabin could run three hundred dollars or more, not to mention the price of furniture and other household items.
    He and Titus had already had one load of logs hauled up the hillside by mules. Now, Titus was at Judge E. G. Dudley's sawmill, which turned out twelve thousand feet of boards per day. Deadwood's three sawmills were doing a roaring business, and Fox had already decided that if he stayed, that was the work he'd pursue. In the meantime, his cabin would need lumber for its roof, floors, and door. It was good to have the Cornish man to do the waiting at the hot, dust-choked sawmill while he himself saw to some of the other chores.
    Fox set about marking off the dimensions of the cabin and smoothing the ground with an iron rake to make an even surface for the floor. As the sun beat down, he longed to remove his red calico shirt and the boots that made his trousers seem twice as hot and confining. Unbuttoning his shirt and rolling the sleeves up past his elbows, he mused that a person could probably get rich in Deadwood selling cups of cold water to the sweltering miners.
    Leaning on his rake, Fox looked toward the Avery house which was hidden behind a dense row of pine trees. He knew that the evergreen barrier was meant to separate the rough miners from Stephen Avery's cultured eastern family, but it still seemed odd to Fox that they hadn't noticedhim . At first, when he and Titus were sifting the claim for overlooked gold, Fox had constantly expected Madeleine Avery to appear like a vision in one of her perfect, proper gowns, every sun-bright lock pinned neatly into place. Best of all, however, would be the wonderful scene she would make, fueled by outrage over his proximity.
    But two full days had passed and now Fox began to wonder. Was it possible that Maddie really didn't know he was here... and soon to be her neighbor? Or, worse, might she know and be indifferent?
    It seemed that the logical thing for him to do was go next door, apologize for his appearance, and request a glass of water. Weren't they all friends? He ran long fingers through his grimy, wind-ruffled hair, dusted off his pants and hands as best he could, and walked toward the wall of pine trees. At the last moment he remembered that his suspenders were hanging