Page 29 of Head Room (Caught Dead in Wyoming #15)

“What?”

“I grant that particular fact does not immediately reveal a connection to the matter of Sergeant Frank Jardos and his cabin—”

“My Tom?”

“—however, as you have said, gathering wide-ranging information during your inquiries has stood you in good stead, with its utility becoming clear only well after you acquired it.”

“My Tom is descended from a Galvanized Yankee — a former Confederate soldier?”

“Indeed. I would conjecture that hearing tales of that ancestry inspired Irene to research the matter further and perhaps inspired her novel. It was a complicated period in history and . . .”

I tuned out, only long enough to think that Tom had never said a word to me about this. He rarely talked about his family history at all.

Or his parents.

Who said they were coming to the wedding.

When I would meet them for the first time.

I yanked myself back to the matter at hand.

“Are you saying Tom just dropped that piece of his family history on Irene one day?”

“I have no reason to conjecture that Thomas introduced the topic to Irene. On the contrary, she mentioned the circumstance of her interest in the topic and her knowledge of Thomas’ family connection to that particular slice of history to me before she spoke with Thomas—”

So, Irene Jardos also knew more about Burrell family history than I did.

“—for background, specifically on that turbulent time from 1864—”

“The book brings them to Wyoming in spring 1865.”

She declined her head in acknowledgement.

“The ill feelings, which accelerated throughout the early Civil War years with attention turned to the east, sharply escalated starting in the spring of 1864. With regular Colorado troops involved in the eastern campaigns, the Colorado militia under Colonel John Chivington fought the Indians.”

“Chivington? The guy in charge in the Sand Creek affair?”

“That is correct. However, we are not yet to that event.”

I bit the insides of my cheeks to prevent asking if we were going to rewind this history reel back to Columbus landing in the Americas.

Mrs. P sailed on — easily more majestically than Columbus’ triplets.

“Chivington issued an order to kill Cheyennes whenever and wherever found, an order carried out in May 1864 against Lean Bear, who had gone to meet the militia alone to convey his peaceful intentions and was still wearing a peace medal given to him the previous year in Washington, D.C.

, when he was shot. Cheyenne attacks on settlers and wagon trains increased after that.

As did murders of Indians by militia members unable or unwilling to separate out noncombatant tribes.

“As the result of a peace parley in September 1864 and under instructions from the government, a band of mostly women, children, and men too old to fight formed a village at Big Sandy Creek. The Indians raised an American flag when the militia arrived, then, after the attack began at Chivington’s order, a white flag of surrender, which the attackers ignored.

“The attack had commenced at Chivington’s order. Two officers — Captain Silas Soule and Lieutenant James Cramer refused the order and instructed their men not to fire.”

Of course, Mrs. P knew their names and ranks.

“Most historians say one hundred and sixty Indians were massacred and mutilated, as I stated, primarily women, children, and old men. In the following months, Indians of various tribes coalesced, executing unusually coordinated attacks. The deadly confrontations included the one at the Platte River Bridge that claimed Caspar Collins’ life. ”

“Does this—?” I bit off a repeat of asking if it connected — somehow — to the Jardos cabin fire and attendant uncertainties.

I needed to leave now to pick up Tamantha on time, which meant I wouldn’t have time to dig deeper with Mrs. P. Like deep enough to get anything useful.

Worse, if I didn’t leave now, Aunt Gee would find me and I could forget fitting in my dress.

* * * *

“I’m worried.”

I spun around toward Tamantha, knocking my hip against my kitchen countertop.

She’d been a little quieter than usual since I picked her up at the library, then we got takeout at Hamburger Heaven, to be supplemented with the salad I was making now.

She was hugging Shadow by the back door and looking up at me.

“Why?” After that one word, I reined back on dozens that wanted to follow.

Don’t pounce on her, I told myself. Give her a chance to talk.

“The bridal magazine said the one thing you have to do is have all the events at one place.”

“The bridal magazine?” Where would she encounter such a thing? Not at the ranch or here. If she’d been visiting my mother, maybe. But with Mom in Illinois . . . Unless Mom read one — or more — and shared that piece of wisdom—

“Uh-huh. I read it at the library when I got there early for the program. It said you have to have all the events in one place.”

We definitely weren’t following that advice.

Friday at 11 a.m., we would be married at the Catholic church in Cody with the early arrivers from my close family and the wedding party, followed by a lunch back in Sherman at the Haber House Hotel. That night we had a cookout planned at the Circle B for all the out-of-towners and a few locals.

Saturday afternoon was what I thought of as the main event, gathering all the guests to celebrate at Tom and Tamantha’s church.

It would be followed by a reception at the Sherman Western Frontier Life Museum with a buffet catered by the Haber House Hotel.

That’s five events in five places. Sure to send that bride magazine article-writer into a tizzy.

Alas, also at the moment sending Tamantha into a tailspin. “The magazine says you have to do that or the bride will be frazzled. You’ll be frazzled.”

I could tell her I’d resolved to absolutely not be a stereotypical bride-with-nerves, but she’d previously shown herself to be unimpressed by my resolves.

“You know why we didn’t plan all the events in one place?”

She shook her head.

“Because your father and I have multiple ways and places we want to celebrate. We made that decision deliberately. We also spread out the events.”

She considered that. “So that should help with not being frazzled?”

“Absolutely. You know why else I will not be frazzled?”

Except, possibly, about meeting my in-laws for the first time and wanting to make a good impression, while knowing they were at least somewhat estranged from the man I love and no matter what, I was on his side of any cause for the estrangement.

“Why?” That small question reminded me of her child status. That happened rarely compared to Tamantha shocking me with her more-adult-than-most-adults approach. Not that I was comparing her to any specific adults, mind you. Certainly not a certain adult who was marrying her father soon.

“Because we have you and my mom. No bride could be frazzled with you two planning the wedding.”

Her serious expression lightened. “No groom could be frazzled either, right?”

“You are exactly right.”

“Good. I’m hungry.”