by Paty Jager
The man was much taller close up, and his eyes so brown, they were almost black.
“Can I help you?” She forced her voice deeper than usual, crossed her arms, and cocked her hip, putting all her weight on one foot like she was setting to stand and jaw a while.
“This here’s Gil Halsey,” Jeremy said, patting the man on the arm. “He wants to bring us a prisoner.” Jeremy fairly danced as he spouted the last word.
Darcy dropped her arms and stared slack-jawed at her dim-witted brother. They didn’t need a prisoner. She liked an empty cell just fine.
“W-w-hat prisoner?” she asked, forgetting to make her voice husky. She hoped the man, staring at her with deeper concentration than a player in a big stakes poker game, didn’t see how the idea scared her.
“You didn’t kill the man you shot. He’s getting patched up. When he’s done, I’ll bring him over here until the judge comes through and there can be a trial,” the man stated flatly. His dark eyes narrowed as they scanned her face.
She cleared her throat and remembered to use her manly voice. “Is he in good enough shape to stay in the jail? I’d hate to have him die on me.” She didn’t like the intensity of his gaze. It made her skin tingle. His brown eyes finally stopped staring her in the face, but now they gawked down her neck, scrutinizing her chest, scanning her trousers and Pa’s boots.
He cleared his throat and looked her straight in the eyes. “It didn’t seem to bother you if he was dead or not after you shot him.”
Dang, it had bothered her. She just hadn’t had time to think on it.
“This is different. He would be under my care, and I don’t want anyone saying I didn’t handle him fair, knowing he’s a robber and all.” She stood her ground, staring at his high cheekbones and long straight nose. He wasn’t hard to look at. She almost sighed, but caught herself.
He pushed his hat back to scratch his head. His hair was dark brown and curly like new wood shavings.
“Why did you take this job?” he asked.
Darcy glanced down at the boards under her feet. Her mind raced to hunt up a good answer to his question. The truth; she was hungry and needed a place to sleep, wouldn’t be the answer this man wanted to hear.
“Marshal. Marshal Duncan,” Tobias Craven hollered, waddling down the street toward her.
“Yeah, Mr. Craven?” She turned to the man, sliding her lips into a friendly smile. She didn’t like the mayor, but was happy for the interruption. It gave her time to sort out an answer for Halsey.
“Could you come with me to my office to discuss how you’re going to go about getting the post office back?” Mr. Craven looked Halsey up and down. “Do I know you?” he asked, dashing the ashes from his cigar into the street.
“Nope.” Gil studied the richly dressed man and wondered what kind of a buffoon he was to have hired this young greenhorn.
Craven dismissed him, dragging the new marshal down the street. Gil watched the two. He got an odd sensation in his gut. There was something wrong about the marshal, and he couldn’t figure it out. Maybe the younger boy could answer his questions.
“How old is your brother?” Gil asked. Jeremy started laughing till tears came to his eyes.
“Ain’t my brother,” he said between snorts of laughter.
Gil thought about that a moment. They had to be brothers. There was too much of a resemblance. Unless they were cousins.
“How old is he?”
Jeremy doubled over as another fit of laughter struck him.
“What’s so darn funny?” Exasperated with the boy’s attitude, he grabbed Jeremy by the collar of his shirt and pulled him upright. He shook the boy and watched the mischievous eyes turn solemn.
“He’s nineteen.” Jeremy squirmed out of Gil’s grip and stood with his hands tucked defiantly on his hips.
Nineteen? He should be showing some male attributes. Whiskers, muscle. The boy Craven escorted down the street didn’t look that old.
“Why did Tobias Craven hire someone so young as marshal?” Gil looked at the innocent face of the boy. “What did your—the new marshal do to get the job?”
“He shot the robber this morning.” Jeremy looked at him all seriousness. “Didn’t you see it? The whole town saw what a hero Darce is.”
Gil scratched his head. There had to be more to it than that. He saw the shooting. It was too damned convenient for Craven. From the word around the saloon, Craven wasn’t well-liked or respected, but he had money and liked to use it to get what he wanted. And he seemed to want a compliant marshal.
“How long you been in town?” Gil asked, leaning against the jail doorway.
“We came in on a freight wagon couple a’days ago.” Jeremy sat down on the bench by the door.
“Freight wagon?”
“Yeah, Darce said we needed to save every penny we made at the last town so’s we had enough money for supplies.” He kicked the toe of his boot against the side of the bench.
“What’d you need supplies for?” Gil wondered at the two traveling alone. Figured they must be orphans to be so easily sucked into a scheme with Craven.
“We’re going to get us a claim.” His young eyes lit up. “Darce says if we work real hard digging gold, we could get enough money to finally build a house and settle somewhere.”
“Where’s your Ma and Pa?”
“Diphtheria got’em five years ago.” The sadness in the boy’s eyes told of a tight-knit family.
“You don’t have any other relatives to take you in?” Gil didn’t miss the hatred that snapped into the boy’s eyes.
Jeremy narrowed his eyes and said defensively, “Why’re you asking so many questions? We’re doing just fine.”
“I’m not. Dang, boy, don’t get your dander up. The two of you aren’t no match for the kind of people that come here looking for gold.”
“We’ll be fine. We’ve outsmarted worst.” Jeremy threw him a glare and jumped off the bench, heading down the street.
Gil watched him duck into the hotel. There was something in their past. He shook his head. He knew how the boy felt. There were things in his past he didn’t want anyone else to know either.
Lifting his hat, he scratched his head and stared at the wanted poster nailed next to the jailhouse door. What was Craven thinking hiring a wet-behind-the-ears boy for a marshal? They had to be up to something. If the brother knew anything, he wasn’t talking.
He looked in the jailhouse door. Gentleness and innocence had wavered in the older boy’s eyes. That wouldn’t help him throw robbers and drunks in a jail cell. Neither one of them boys could jail anyone. He shook his head.
Meeting both the marshal and Jeremy, he also knew they didn’t have a clue what they were up against. He should just ride out and look for Pete. But if his gut was right, Pete would come to Galena looking for his buddy. It was best to stay right here and keep an eye on the marshal and the boy. ’Cuz his gut also told him, they were going to need his help.
*****
Darcy sat in the wooden chair across the desk from Tobias Craven. So far he hadn’t said much more than he liked the way she could shoot. And she hadn’t found a thing she liked about the man. He was full of himself, smelled of stale cigar, and had a calculating stare that reminded her of a mean rooster.
“Did you know the robber is still alive?” she asked. By the raising of his eyebrows and the glint of anger that flashed through his beady eyes, he hadn’t known.
“He is? Where is he?” He leaned back into his chair, his round head sinking into the cushioned back. His plump hands rested on the wooden arms of the chair. The vigorous tapping of one sausage-like finger gave away his irritation at the announcement.
“Being fixed up before he’s brought to the jail.”
Craven winced ever so slightly. Why didn’t he want the man put in jail? It was where a robber belonged. She didn’t like the idea of an outlaw in the cell beneath where she slept, but she couldn’t let him go. After all, he did try to take the town’s money
.
“When does the judge come round?” she asked, hoping it was soon and she’d be rid of her unwanted guest. A tremor of fear chilled her. Surely he wouldn’t be the judge on this side of the state.
“End of the month,” Craven answered, though his mind seemed to be on something else.
“Oh.” That was a long time to have someone in the cell. But plenty of time to catch up on eating and sleep if they had to leave in a hurry. “So what do you want me to do about the post office?” she asked, changing the subject to one that appealed to her more. She slid to the front of the chair so her feet would touch the polished wood floor. Her toes scuffed the surface as she swung them back and forth.
Craven looked across the desk. Smiling ruthlessly, he said, “Put a posse together and take your badge up to Upper Creek and get our post office back. Those no-good miners up there had no right stealing the whole damn building!” He slammed his fist on the desk and glared at her like she was the one who stole the rickety structure.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
He heaved his body up off the chair and leaned across the desk. “You won’t see. You will get it back. We can’t be an incorporated town without that post office.” He sat back down and looked at her through narrowed eyes. “I’ll pay you a good wage and feed you and that brother of yours if you do what I say.” He stared at her point blank with his dark, beady eyes.
Darcy almost slid back in the seat of the chair to avoid the stare. His hollering and anger reminded her of the uncle they narrowly escaped. She’d stood up to him when she took Jeremy, and she could stand up to this man as well.
She planted her feet firmly on the floor and stared back at him. Squinting, she looked him square in his round face. He looked a lot like an old boar they had when she was a child, kind of jowly and ugly. All Craven needed was a crumpled ear and he could be that old boar’s brother.
“Exactly what do you mean?” she asked.
“I mean, you just sit behind that marshal’s desk, do what I tell you, throw the drunks in jail, and we’ll all be happy.” He smiled and slid a bag across the desk.
Darcy eyed the bag a moment before she picked it up. It was heavy for its size. She untied the string wrapped around the top and poured gold nuggets into her hand. The weight was amazing for such small rocks. Her grin spread thinking of all the food she could buy for Jeremy. And new clothes.
She hadn’t done a thing to get such a windfall. This was like the time in school when a boy gave her a stick of candy if she’d go behind the schoolhouse with him. She frowned. He’d wanted her to show him her drawers. Nothing good ever came from getting something too easily.
She thought about Mr. Craven words. He’d asked her to do what he said, not what the town said. She knew a marshal worked for the town, not one man. He would pay her more than the job was worth, if she did as he said. It didn’t sound like he had the town’s best interests in mind.
She’d always done an honest day’s work for her money. Ma and Pa raised her that way and that was what she’d taught Jeremy. She weighed the nuggets in her hand.
This was too easy.
She looked up at him. He grinned and waved his fat hand in her direction.
“There’s more where that come from, if you do as you’re told.”
Darcy slowly replaced the gold. She smiled back and placed the bag in her trouser pocket. He was up to something, and she and Jeremy were going to find out what. Pa raised them to be honest, but you didn’t have to be honest with a dishonest person.
She’d take the gold, but she wouldn’t use it. She’d keep it as a reminder the man sitting in front of her wasn’t honest, and it was her duty as marshal to find out what he had planned.
Standing, she nodded to the man. If she didn’t shake or say anything she wouldn’t really be lying to him either.
He stood and walked around to the front of the desk. “That’s my boy. Remember there’s more if you just do as you’re told and keep your mouth shut.” He slapped her on the back. Her big, heavy boots stayed rooted to the floor as her body flew forward. To keep from falling, she flailed her arms and tried to shuffle her feet. The over-sized boots were her undoing once more as her body headed toward the floor.
Darcy grabbed the closest object—a coat tree. The tall, wooden tree teetered. She thought for a moment she wouldn’t fall, but as usual, luck wasn’t with her. The coat tree fell to the floor with her underneath. Inhaling the body odor from Mr. Craven’s jacket, she choked and gagged. She shoved the coat aside, kicking the wooden rack off her legs.
Mr. Craven stood by his desk. His lips puckered in an attempt not to laugh. She glared at him, stood, and stalked out. The door barely hit the frame before she heard a thunderous belly laugh from the other side.
She stomped off fuming. That hadn’t gone well—or had it? She’d just proven to Craven what a clumsy fool she was. If he thought she was a blunderer, he wouldn’t take her nosing around seriously. That would give her the time and space to find out why he was worried about the prisoner, and why he didn’t want her to do the job of marshal.
Darcy wandered out of the building a smile tugging at her lips at the thought of besting the man. She looked up and down the street. Her heart fluttered with pride. The streets were clean, the buildings small, but ample for the miners who came to town to buy supplies. Only the business people lived in town, so there were few houses as most lived above their stores. The people she met smiled. She smiled back, tipped her hat, and headed to the hotel.
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since the day before when she and Jeremy had split a roll they’d received for carrying wood for the cook at the hotel. The woman had been eager to help them when Darcy had explained they didn’t have any money—well none to spend on food. They needed all the money for mining supplies. She rattled the coins in her pocket. They still had the money if things went wrong and they needed to take off for some other town.
Inside the hotel restaurant, fresh baked bread and roasting meat welcomed her as she looked around. The thought of picking up and leaving again, didn’t set well with her. She was tired of roaming. At nineteen, she wanted to settle down, preferably with a husband. To find a man who could tolerate her uncomely looks and clumsiness would require a miracle. She sighed. That day may never come. She’d seen women who were hard to look at married, but she also noticed they didn’t trip over their own feet, nor have a habit of irritating the men folk.
Every male she’d ever come across other than her pa had brought up her hackles and caused her to argue. Granted they didn’t know she was a female, however, she had a feeling she’d feel just as contrary to a man giving her orders. Just like Craven. She’d smiled, but she hated the fact he manipulated her. Or he thought he was manipulating her. She grinned. No man—she remembered the hardened old woman her uncle sold her to—or woman would tell her what to do from now on.
Darcy took a seat at an empty table by the front window. Watching the people walk by on the street, her circumstances flashed through her head. Her curiosity wanted to find out why Craven was leery of the prisoner, and why Halsey had taken an interest in the prisoner. To do that, she would need to be on friendly terms with the town folk.
A girl younger than herself stopped at the table to take her order. Her brown hair was pulled back in one long braid. Buckteeth shone pearly white when she smiled.
“Are you really going to be the marshal?” the waitress asked, batting her eyes like a smitten schoolgirl.
Darcy cringed at the outright flirting before she remembered everyone believed she was a boy. She cleared her throat and said in a deep voice, “Yeah, I’m going to give it a try.” Flexing her arm, she winked at the girl and felt the eyes of everyone in the restaurant watching her. She looked around, with her hat tilted down to cover half of her face, and smiled.
“And you hit the robber with one shot.” The girl practically swooned. Darcy squirmed in her chair. This was a little more attention than she liked. Us
ually when everyone watched her it was because she’d just caused a catastrophe. She didn’t know how to take this new feeling of someone other than Jeremy looking up to her. She felt like even more of a fake.
“I’ll have steak and potatoes,” she said gruffly, dismissing the girl.
Her mouth watered at the thought of meat. It had been nearly a year since she’d sunk her teeth into a steak. She remembered the day clearly. She and Jeremy had helped a farmer in Wilsonville. Everything had been fine until they encountered the law. She frowned. It had been the kids playing in the store who caused the problem, but even her own brother hadn’t believed her. Who would have thought a whole barrel of pickles could cost every coin they’d saved to that point?
She looked up when the waitress plopped a plate on the table in front of her. Potatoes were piled high alongside a hunk of meat swimming in its juice. Darcy closed her eyes and rubbed her belly. She could already feel it going down. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad after all. If she could just stay away from trouble and find out what Craven had planned without raising his suspicions, she could eat like this for as long as she liked.
An elderly man with a face that resembled a dried apple stopped beside her chair. His watery eyes peered at her with a strength she didn’t think existed in his frail body.
“Is it true Tobias Craven hired you as marshal?
“Yes.” She watched him. “You know much about him?”
“He’s been round here since the first gold was assayed. He’s got paper on most of the mines.” Moving his head slowly he looked around the restaurant. “He owns most of the businesses, though not outright.” He leaned on a cane. “If you plan on staying, watch your back. Strange things happen to the people connected to Craven.” He tipped his hat and hobbled out of the restaurant.
Darcy stared after the man. Strange things. Strange in what way? Unusual accidents? A shiver ran down her back. She’ll have to be careful deciding how far she planned to follow Craven’s orders. Fear gripped her belly. She had to decide to what extent she wanted to put Jeremy in danger while finding out what Craven had planned for the town.