Page 51 of A Good Prospect

Henri said, “The office of alcalde is that of magistrate and justice of the peace.”

Sal snorted. “We’ll need to find a new alcalde once we get rid of Mr. McCarthy here.”

To pass the time, Sal buttoned on his calzoneras and shrugged into his vest. Although the sun was heading down to the farthest western reaches of the Merced’s canyon, it sure seemed as though it was getting hotter in there.

At last, a few yelps from above signaled the sighting of the fire. All four men rushed to the plate floor door and stuck their heads out. Nobody would notice that they already seemed to know from where the fire came as they eagerly pointed and yelled things like,

“I smell smoke!”

“What’s that? A fire?”

Instantly, three of the remaining outlaws tore off uphill, leaving only Tyke, Alistair, and two of the most spirited League men. They all skittered about uncertainly, brandishing their firearms as though about to shoot the fire.

“Tyke!” Sal shouted. “What are you going to do, leave us here to burn to death? That’s the ultimate in cowardice, wouldn’t you say?”

“It’s just a little campfire!” Tyke bellowed, although no one could see toward Hell Hollow Mine from this side of the mill. He waved his revolver at Sal. “You stay put!” To Alistair he said, “Let’s go investigate.” And to the enthusiastic amigos, he growled, “You stay here and guard this door.”

As hoped, Tyke and Alistair sped uphill, while the two gold mining enthusiasts muttered, “I ain’t gonna stay here guarding these squatters!”

Winking at Jules and Henri, Sal shut the door. The three men headed for the inner stairs, while O’Callan stumbled down one level to hide himself under the amalgamation table.

They clattered up the several levels, stumbling and rolling on pieces of crushed ore. On the top delivery floor level, Sal was gratified to see the Sonorans had fled. As they had planned, Jules and Henri secreted themselves to one side of the door, so they would be unseen when Sal flung the door open, pretending to be excited by the fire.

“It’s a huge conflagration!” he shouted, to draw attention to himself. Indeed, Tyke, Alistair, and a couple of henchmen pivoted about not twenty feet from the door, obviously uncertain about which way to run. A fire, Sal knew, always had a riveting fascination for the human brain, and it would have been just as lucky, and much simpler for him, if The League men had just gone at full chisel to watch the fire.

But Sal had counted on Tyke’s tenacity, and when Tyke saw Sal at the top of the stairs he frowned something fierce, and came forward. “I don’t care if your whole house is burning down! We warned your wife that would happen. Just looks like it happened a bit sooner than expected!”

Sal hadn’t heard anything about this—why hadn’t Tamasin told him they had threatened her?—so his reaction was partly genuine. He knew the fire didn’t come from his house, but it certainly played into his plan to pretend that it did.

So he gripped his head in agony and cried, “My house! Ay dios, my house! Mr. McCarthy, you must let me go and attend to my house! Caramba!”

Tyke appeared baffled, his gaze darting from the fire to Sal, and back to the fire. So Sal cranked up the emotion—it was a good thing he used to put on tableaus and plays with his brother and mother. Shouting into the darkness of the delivery floor, he shouted, “Jules! Henri! Where are you? My house is on fire! Ai-yi-yi…Jooools…”

Light from high windows revealed Jules and Henri standing on either side of the door, backs flattened to the wall like rats. Going to the staircase, Sal called down it with angst in his voice. Not much effort was required to muster the emotion required. “Joools…Henriii…Where are you…?”

Outside, Sal heard Alistair saying, “Tyke! If his house is burning, shouldn’t we at least let him go and try to save it?”

Tyke snarled at Alistair, “It was supposed to be a trick, you dough-head! I never actually ordered anyone to burn down his house!”

“Henriii….”

“I’m going in!” declared Alistair.

Sure as shooting, Alistair himself swaggered inside and looked from Sal to Henri to Jules, expressionless. For their part, they looked back with blank faces. Sal narrowed his eyes a bit in warning.

Alistair nodded back in acknowledgement and shouted to Tyke, “I can’t find them danged prisoners! You better come in here and help me search for them!”

Tyke’s voice wavered. “But the fire…Oh, all right!”

Sal flattened himself next to Henri, and Tyke stepped into the room. “Now, Alistair, did you see him going down those st—”

Jules and Henri slammed shut the double doors and Tyke whirled about pointing his six-shooter every which way. It was a toss of the coin as to whether he’d drill anyone, but thankfully, once he saw four pistols pointed at him, he cowered back. Sal stepped into the beam of sunlight coming from the high window, the beam now muddied by smoke from the Hell Hollow Mine. The ever-changing passing clouds created a stormy, confused look on Tyke’s rodent face.

“Alistair!” he snapped. “What in the name of Sam Hill?”

Alistair said calmly, “I’ve had it with your disorder-loving faction, McCarthy.”

Sal nodded at Alistair. “You’d best leave now, Alistair. After you disarm your boss.”