Page 45 of Working the Lode

“Wait!” Zelnora shouted, shaking Aaron by the shoulders. “Sing Sing? Thrown there for murdering ailing people? What’s all this about?”

The robust color drained from Aaron’s face. “I, uh, I.”

“Yes,” said Quartus weakly. “Yet more murder? What’s going on around here? Is everyone turning into assassins manufactured in hell to convert highways into theaters of blood? Oh, my…”

Joaquin gently pulled apart Zelnora and Aaron. This mutual vendetta against Brannagh seemed to turn Aaron and Joaquin into instant compañeros. “Everyone calm down. We can discuss Sing Sing later, that’s not important right now. Our first step is obvious. We need to get to Three-Fingered Jack’s camp and convince him to tell us what really happened. Then we need to find your sweetheart, Erskine.”

Aaron seemed relieved to change the subject. “That’s why I came here—to get a posse to go find Mercy.”

###

Joaquin

Valenzuela’s thoughts had been turning more and more to love and not perfidy. In fact, later that evening when he snuck into Three Fingered Jack’s camp—his own camp, really, but less and less did he consider it his own—he was dreaming about love. A thought crossed his mind that perhaps he was done with revenge. Perhaps his wife had called “enough!” from beyond the grave. Perhaps she tried to convince him that not all North Americans were raping, murdering fiends.

The camp was relatively quiet, with just two vaqueros posted on high points, all animals securely hobbled and a horse guard posted against theft by Digger Indians. Two men Joaquin identified as Garcia and Jack sat near the fire imbibing, but everyone else appeared to be flat on their backs farting and burping. Joaquin and Bowmaker had formulated what seemed like a good plan. After picketing their animals a safe distance away, Bowmaker and Erskine would accost and bind the two guards while Joaquin and Zelnora casually ambled to the campfire. Jack and Garcia would be taken by surprise and would never feel threatened by the appearance of a delectable woman. It was a bold move for Zelnora to make, but being short of men they had to use their wits. It was a simple plan, one that he and Jack had used before on unsuspecting compañeros who trusted them.

“Buenos noches, Jack. Garcia.”

“Jefe!” Only Jack got unsteadily to his feet, Garcia being crippled.

Zelnora trailing him, Joaquin strolled around the campfire, having already spied Jack’s knapsack. Joaquin stooped to unlatch the leather knapsack. Jack made a motion to grab for it, but withdrew when he saw the pistol in Joaquin’s hand.

“Ward Brannagh has sent us to search for something he lost,” Joaquin explained casually. “I will return Miss Sparks safely to him once we have found this important item.” The knapsack was heavy enough, that was obvious, and Joaquin rifled through a few filthy items of clothing.

Jack spoke tremulously, a sheen of sweat already broken out on his forehead. “But why would I have anything belonging to Brannagh? He paid us to rob those missionaries, and all we got was some jerked—“

“And this white woman’s bracelet?” Joaquin handed it to Zelnora for inspection. She nodded that yes, this belonged to Mercy Narrimore.

“Oh, that? I have had that for many months. I can’t even recall where I found—“

Joaquin shook out a rumpled garment the brown shade of snuff. “And this very attractive garment?”

Placing the bracelet down her chemise between her breasts, Zelnora reached to inspect the coat. It was an odd-looking thing not often—if ever—seen in these parts, with the waist beginning a hand’s span from the throat about a yard above its proper position, and the skirts sweeping straight to the ankles. “Yes, this could be Brother Rogers’, or I have seen Ezra Allen wear something similar,” she affirmed.

“That was just one of the jerked beef hombres!” Jack protested. “Since they had nothing worth stealing, and we were cold, we merely—“

“And this?” Joaquin tossed the knapsack to the dirt, brandished the heavy giant gold nugget, and cocked his hammer. Zelnora did the same with her Colt as Bowmaker and Erskine sauntered up behind the two bandits, leveling their own pieces, pistols ready to speak the first word should Jack or Garcia make any untoward move.

“And now,” said Valenzuela with authority. “You are going to take us to where Brannagh is holding Miss Narrimore.”