"Somebody oughta teach him a lesson," Wilf said. The big man slouched across from Joe, overflowing his chair.

  "What ye waitin' for, Wilf?" Vester inquired in a tone that doubted Wilf's strength and determination.

  "You're twice as big as him," DiCastro said. "Why don't you do the teachin'?"

  "Yeah, Wilf," Eli urged. His face was twisted in a hungry leer. "Let's go teach that damn Dewitt a lesson."

  "Hesh up, Eli. When I want to hear from you, I'll let you know." Wilf picked up his mug and drained it. "As for Dewitt, I'll take care of him in my own time. He'll wish he'd never laid eye on me." Carefully he rose from his chair and wove his way to the door.

  Looking back, he said, "And when I take care of Dewitt, I'll do for them little yellow bastards, too." He staggered out into the street.

  "I do believe he's riled," Vester observed, before leaning forward and lowering his voice. "Now boys, let's talk about what we're gonna do with those claims we took over. They ain't doing no good just settin' there."

  * * * *

  Late that afternoon, Silas stood at the end of town and looked out over the gold field. Despite the backbreaking labor, men were getting rich. Just this morning he had listened to a fellow tell of taking better than two ounces of fine gold from his claim in an hour. Remembering a day when he himself had picked up a nugget, water smoothed and gleaming, as big as the end of his thumb, Silas smiled to himself.

  These days gravel was being carried from claims as distant as a hundred feet from the creek to be washed through the rockers. This made claims close to the stream more valuable than ever, for they gave access to the precious water.

  Several of the early claims were being worked by Chinese, their original owners having abandoned them as played out. According to Soomey, her countrymen were finding enough gold to make it worth their while. To Silas, reworking the spoils looked only a little less work than sailing through a typhoon in a dinghy.

  He turned and walked back to the livery stable. The tent he'd purchased had been delivered there, as had the other supplies. Now that he was moving on, there was no more need for secrecy, so he would take everything up to the shelter tonight. Tao Ni could ride his saddle horse in the morning. He and Soomey would walk.

  There was a town growing over in the next valley, and still another in the drainage beyond that. He'd settle for a while in Centerville, then move on if he had to. In one of those drainages, there had to be a distinctive rock formation sitting high on a hillside, pointing the way to his objective.

  "They tell me there's nuggets big as your fist over on Grimes Creek," the hostler told him, as they were loading the pack saddle. "That where you're headin'?"

  "That direction, anyhow," Silas admitted. "Looks to me like there's no decent claims left around here."

  "Well, now, I wouldn't say that, not for them as ain't afraid of hard work. Come spring, when there's water a'plenty, some of them draws might just pan out. I hear tell of a fellow takin' five hundred dollars out of the hillside, just in a few buckets full of gravel."

  "Do tell." Silas smiled. He'd heard that story and more, all of a kind. And some could be true. There was gold here, and once it had lined every streambed, glittering through the clear water. He had seen it. He had felt the rich weight of it in his own two hands.

  If only he could remember where he'd hidden it.

  Chapter Seven

  Up the hill from Dewitt's camp, Eli crouched alongside a tumble of boulders. He'd been there since before dawn, waiting to see where Dewitt was headed. And whether he'd take his Chinee pets along with him.

  Just like Dewitt to pick a cold day like today to pack up and go. Eli shivered when fingers of icy wind found their way inside his coat. He pulled his collar higher up around his neck. How he wished he could find himself a better hiding place. But the huge pines here were far apart, with not much growin' underneath 'em. Not like lower down, where he'd found plenty of cover on other days.

  It sure looked like they was movin' out for good. The dun packhorse was loaded heavy. Now the older Chinee brat was tying on a coffeepot, just where it was bound to hook itself on a branch and pull loose.

  Eli snickered to himself, thinking about tonight when they set up camp. Dewitt wouldn't like it one bit, nosiree! Not after a few hours packing down the trail in this cold wind, only to find himself with no coffee.

  Yep, they were loading the whole shebang. He sure wished they'd forget the tarp they were using for a roof, though. Once they were gone, this'd make him a nice little hidey-hole, if he ever needed one.

  Sometimes a man needed a private place, where nobody watched him. He'd learned long ago that some things he did was best hid from other folks. It was that or move on.

  Well, this time wasn't nobody going to make him move on. Vester needed him, even if he didn't know he did. Why some of them other fellas, they never worked harder'n they had to.

  He'd show 'em, when he found out what it was Dewitt was lookin' for.

  Consarn it! Dewitt fixed the coffeepot. And he didn't even swat the Chinee kid for tying it on wrong.

  * * * *

  Soomey made one last inspection of the shelter. It had served her well, on those occasional nights when roving, drunken miners had come too close to the drafty lean-to in which she and Tao Ni had usually slept, down near the creek.

  A quick peek outside showed her that Boss was busy tightening lines on the pack. Now was her chance. She crawled between two boulders, into a space far too small for anyone but a child, or a slender woman. There, covered with rock fragments and a thin layer of soil, was the leather drawstring bag holding her last few gold coins. She looked again toward the opening before she slipped it inside her trousers and fastened it to them.

  She trusted Boss, as much as she would trust any man. But not with her gold. It was all that stood between her and the life she had led since she was a child, many years ago. With gold, she could escape him if she had to, could pay someone to guide her to Portland. Safely there, she would never again be at any man's beck.

  "Hey, Soomey, you ready to go?"

  She crawled out and quickly dusted herself off. "I am ready. Is Tao Ni comfortable?"

  "Ask him," Boss said. "He still hasn't much to say to me."

  "He will learn quickly." He must, for she could not always be there to translate, and Tao Ni needed Boss's strength and power as much as she did. More, perhaps, for he was yet young and inexperienced in the evils of the world.

  "Are you well, small one?" she asked in Chinese. "Do you need more willow bark?"

  "Boss has made me a seat fit for a mandarin," he replied, patting the padded saddle into which he was strapped. "See. The wool of his blanket cushions me. And I feel well, only a little pain in my arm." He lifted his splinted arm, wincing a bit as he did so.

  "Perhaps you will sleep, while we travel. That will be good for you." Smiling, she squeezed his ankle, relieved that Boss took such good care of an insignificant child. Of course, Tao Ni was a boy, and therefore of greater value than a mere female.

  Boss led their little caravan, the lead strap of his riding horse looped about his forearm. The packhorse followed on a line. Soomey wished to walk beside Boss, so she could ask him questions, but knew that her place was behind him.

  A ring of silence surrounded them as they traversed the main street of Bannock City. Boss's beard shone in the sunlight, so pale that it was closer to silver than gold. His stride was long and confident, his bearing as noble as any warlord's. He cordially greeted several people--the hostler, the grocer, and the big red-bearded Vester man. Soomey approved his actions. Only a fool showed his enemies an angry face.

  At the whorehouse, he stopped and tied the horses to the porch post.

  "Stay here. I'll not be long."

  Soomey glared at him, but said nothing. When he had entered the front door, she put one foot in a dangling stirrup and pulled herself up to feel Tao Ni's face. He was warmer than she liked, although his sleepy smile was cheerful enough. She tipped Boss's canteen to his mouth and told him to swallow twice. The willow bark infusion she had prepared this morning was strong, and should keep him drowsy.

  Boss was inside a long time, long enough that Soomey was certain he was taking his pleasure. She fumed, wondering what she could do to convince him that she was woman enough for him. Should she try again, when they were settled?

  What if she angered him enough that he drove her away?

  Now that Tao Ni was injured, she needed Boss more than ever. Perhaps she would be wise to allow him to patronize the whorehouse, until she could convince him to welcome her to his bed.

  She supposed she must learn to cook the bad-tasting cornmeal for him. And whatever other barbarous foods he wished. If only he would not ask her for those vile red roots that Captain Slye had often eaten. Surely they would poison him.

  At last Boss emerged, the whorehouse woman close beside him. She smiled up into his face as if they were lovers, and patted his hand when he thanked her. Disgusted, Soomey turned away. She had no desire to watch Boss make such a fool of himself.

  "Soomey?"

  She inspected the new sign on the saloon across the street. It hung crooked against the front of the tent, the letters staggering as drunkenly across its face as miners did when emerging from the saloon.

  Boss caught her shoulder in a gentle grip and turned her to face him. "Here," he said, holding out a pair of scuffed boots. "These ought to fit you. And the socks are pretty thick, so if they're a little big, it won't matter."

  They looked awkward and stiff. "I do not need these," she said. "I have shoes."

  "The hell you do. I looked at them last night. You've got newspaper stuffed inside and it's damn thin. A couple more miles and you'd be walking on your bare feet."

  "I have walked on bare feet before," she told him, remembering that it had only been when she was taken to the city where Captain Slye had purchased her that she had been given her first pair of shoes. "It will not harm me."

  "Soomey, damn it, put the boots on and don't argue with me."

  She shook her head. The boots had come from the whorehouse. She would not wear them.

  His eyes narrowed. "You want to keep workin' for me?" he said, in the soft voice she had learned to heed.

  Soomey nodded.

  "Then put on the boots."

  She glared.

  He glared back, holding out the boots.

  Soomey flung herself onto the porch. "Give them to me," she said. "I will wear the damn things, but only because you force me to."

  "Don't swear," he told her, his voice again gentle and mild. "It's not ladylike."

  Soomey resisted the urge to kick him, even after she had the boots on her feet.

  * * * *

  The trail to Centerville, in the next drainage west, was well used. Once again Silas marveled at the number of hopefuls who had already come to this isolated basin since gold had been discovered in August. It was almost as if word of the strike had been carried on the chill autumn wind.

  They climbed most of the morning, up the gulch west of Bannock City, along a well-worn path of crumbled yellow granite, sparkling in the low November sun. Soomey followed silently a few paces behind him.

  At last he could stand it no more. "The trail's wide enough for two. Come on up here and talk to me," he called over his shoulder.

  "I have nothing to say."

  He slowed just enough that she almost caught up with him. "Soomey, you told me you're a woman, not a child. I didn't--don't--believe you, and you're not doing anything to convince me."

  She looked up at him and he almost winced at the fire in her glance. "You go to whorehouse, after I tell you there is no need."

  "I went to see if Tilly or one of her girls had boots for you."

  "I did not need boots."

  Pulling one of her shoes from the saddlebag where he'd stuffed them, he shook it, upside down. Shreds of newspaper fluttered to the ground. He looked at her through the sole of the shoe. "You didn't, huh?"

  She lowered her chin and refused to look at him. "They hurt my feet. I do not like them."

  "Sit down." He pushed her gently to one of the rocks beside the trail. In a moment he had the boots off her feet. "No wonder they hurt."

  She had crammed the boots over the heavy wool socks, with no regard for how they fit. The socks were bunched up and wrinkled. Her feet were marked with red creases and blisters were forming on both heels.

  Silas fetched the tin of goose grease he never went anywhere without. When he began to rub it onto her heels, Soomey did her best to wriggle out of his grasp. "Hold still!" he commanded.

  Once both feet were well greased, he put the socks back on her, careful to smooth them out. Their heels came halfway up her ankles, but high enough that the extra fabric wouldn't rub. Then he carefully pushed her feet into the boots, making sure the socks were unwrinkled. He laced the boots fairly tight, testing their fit before tying the rawhide into a loose but unslippable knot. "Stand up."

  She stood.

  "Walk around. See if they hurt." He'd learned the trick of greasing his feet well on a trek into the jungle in the East Indies. He hadn't had a blister since.

  "They feel odd," Soomey told him after a few tentative steps, "as if my feet are sliding in slick mud." She walked a little way up the trail. "It is very unpleasant."

  "But do they hurt?"

  She shook her head. "It is strange. There is no pain, but I still do not like the boots."

  Silas gave her queue a tug. "They'll protect your feet, and keep 'em warm."

  Her sigh was long suffering, but he took it as capitulation.

  "And Soomey?"

  "Yes, Boss." Definitely a victim of injustice.

  "I only went to the whorehouse. I didn't...ah, use it." Why was he explaining? It wasn't any of her business. But he couldn't bear her silent disapproval.

  Her smile was sufficient reward. "That is good." She almost skipped as she stepped onto the trail beside him. "The boots are very warm, Boss."

  It was probably as close to an apology as he was going to get.

  The trail wound down into a narrow gulch with a dry streambed at the bottom. Soomey slipped twice, her leather boot soles having little purchase on the loose sand. The second time, her feet went out from under her.

  Boss turned around and said, "Are you all right?"

  Just then several boulders came rolling into the trail ahead of them. Before she could get to her feet, Boss had caught her by the quilted jacket and pushed her against the side of the hill. In a continuation of the same sweep, he pulled the horses around and forced them against the hillside, too. Soomey shrank back, not trusting their big, iron-shod feet to avoid her.

  "Catch," Boss said, in a hoarse whisper. He pulled Tao Ni from the saddle and almost dropped him into her arms. She wondered what he would have done if she hadn't caught the boy.

  At the same time, there was a shout from the hillside above them. Soomey didn't understand the words, but she heard the threat. Carefully she stood up and dug into the nearest saddlebag, hoping it was the one holding her bundle.

  Boss drew the rifle from its scabbard and held it at hip level. She watched him scan the hillside above them, barely lifting his head over the horse's back.

  "Boss?"

  "Quiet," he snapped. "Sit down and don't move!"

  Gravel and sand cascaded into the trail. Soomey pulled her bundle from the saddlebag. She sat. Soon she heard the rustling of brush over her head.

  "Step back from that there hoss, mister, and nobody gets hurt." The voice was harsh, threatening.

  And familiar. She hoped its owner was not holding a gun on Boss, for he sounded savage enough to shoot with little provocation.

  Boss stepped back into the middle of the trail.

  Soomey reached into her bundle.

  A masked man appeared from the downhill side of the trail, holding a shotgun aimed directly at Boss. He gestured with his head, directing Boss to step farther away from the horse. "Drop the gun," he said. His words came out high-pitched and quavery, far more frightening to Soomey. A frightened man was dangerous and unpredictable.

  She had seen a man hit by a shotgun blast at close range, once. If only Boss would not resist.

  Boss dropped his rifle.

  "Take off your coat."

  Boss complied. Soomey wondered how she could tell him to step aside, for he was standing directly between her and the man with the shotgun. Then it was almost as if he had read her mind, for when he dropped his coat to the ground, he stepped sidewards. "I've little money," he said, "and no gold. I just got here."

  "Don't give me that bullshit," growled the robber Soomey could not see. "I was in the store the other day when you paid with some fancy coins, and I saw the size of your poke. Now hand it over."

  As Boss reached toward his pocket with his left hand, the robber said, "Do it slow, and don't try any tricks, or my friend there will shoot the kids."

  Boss shrugged. Soomey fired.

  Boss's knife flew past her head at the same instant as the bullet from her pistol struck the masked man's thigh.

  "Boss!" she called. When he looked at her, she tossed him the other pistol.

  He caught it handily, held it on the uphill man. "Get down here," he commanded.

  Soomey peeked above the top of the cut bank. The robber lay among broken shrubs, Boss's knife still quivering high in his shoulder. Blood darkened the heavy wool of his coat.

  "I can't move," he whined.

  "The hell you can't. You've got five seconds."

  The man rolled and slid down the rocky hillside, tumbling the last few feet to land in a tangle beside his companion. "You ain't a'gonna kill me, are you?" He no longer sounded threatening or dangerous.

  Boss raised an eyebrow. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you both." He leaned over and pulled his knife free, wiping it on the robber's filthy pants. The man cried out in pain, then fell to cursing Boss in a low, monotonous tone.

  The man Soomey had shot pulled the bandanna from his lower face. She recognized him as another of those who often loitered at the front of the Golden Eagle Saloon.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31