Episode 66
Thieves and Squatters
Cal watched his partner ride along the lip of the mesa at a gallop. Jake was heading to where the steep wall of the mesa had collapsed into a long slope choked with greasewood. Cal found himself wishing the mare would tangle a hoof and throw Jake to break his neck or crush his skull on a rock. But his partner was a better rider than that and made it to the bottom of the decline in one piece and was riding on toward the sad little mine camp.
Jake was already hoo-rawing the miners by the time Cal rode down to join him. He’d ridden close to the rocker box edging the bearded man away from it by sidling his horse up close to crowd the man. He had the drop on the bearded man and the two husky blondes who’d been hauling the mine cart. With a trap-door carbine resting across the pommel of his saddle, Jake was barking at the men. The girl halted the horse at the mill and called the names of the boys shoveling ore. They ran back toward the women at the tents.
“You speak English?” Jake was saying, his voice raised in volume and tone. “American? You talk American?”
“We are Americans,” one of the blondes said, stepping away from the ore cart. His accent was heavy and the words halting.
“You ain’t no Americans,” Jake spat. “Buncha goddamned Bohunks. Nothin’ but thieves and squatters.”
Cal rode up alongside him and took a grip on the barrel of the Sharps. Jake’s head spun to him, hot with rage. Cal’s Winchester remained in the scabbard that hung from his saddle.
“Let up. They can’t understand you,” Cal said evenly.
“They’ll understand when I blow one of their Bohunk hearts out.” Jake jerked the carbine back, but Cal maintained his grip. He locked his eyes on Jake’s to see something wild there like a coyote with its foot in a trap.
“No cause for that, partner,” Cal said. “You know how it is with these foreigners. The older they are the less English they savvy.”
“Yeah.” Jake’s feral snarl melted into a loose smile. His pale eyes narrowed. He gave another tug on the carbine and Cal released the barrel to allow him to replace the weapon in the upright boot that hung from a latigo before his left leg.
Cal followed as Jake reined around to bring his mare closer to the girl standing with the harness horse’s lead reins in her hand. She was even prettier than Cal surmised from his view through the glass. Strands of honey-colored hair poked from under a faded red scarf trimmed with lace. She had straight teeth and a heart-shaped face. Her eyes were the color of a summer sky growing dark with coming rain and open wide with fear at Jake’s approach. He judged she was sixteen, maybe younger.
“You speak English, darling?” Jake said, drawing closer as she released the lead reins and stepped back.
“Ich weis nicht.” She shook her head with an emphatic gesture.
Jake leaned from the saddle to snake out a hand to take her wrist in an iron grip. He pulled her close against his mare’s flank. She had to stand up on the toes of her button shoes to maintain her balance.
Cal turned away to glance at the three men closer to the mine opening. They stood with hands fisted and eyes hard. One of the shirtless men spared a look toward a long-handled pick leaning against the cart.
“You had your fun. She don’t know English,” Cal said, his gaze turned back to Jake pulling the girl up so that her feet dangled kicking off the ground.
“Maybe I’ll teach her some.” Jake turned to Cal. A smile creased his lips as his eyes turned to slits.
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