Clash of Mountains

by Chloe Garner

  Sarah turned away, walkin’ to the investor village to fetch Gremlin and ridin’ out to the train station, check the locked room there for deliveries and to update her orders. Were gettin’ easier to do. She could order through Granger anything she needed, and it’d show up in a few days, so long as it were comin’ from Jeremiah or Carson. She kept up her own path, though, same reason she’d always done it: she wanted to know who she was workin’ with to get her gear, close to the source as she could get. Made it less likely someone along the way would forget or betray her.

  Were a little mail, and she rode that back into town, givin’ Granger the homesteader mail and deliverin’ what were left of it to Doc, the Lawsons, Willie and Paulie. Last of it were all for Jimmy, and she rode back out to the house, findin’ him in his office again. She went in to the kitchen to start a tea pot, touchin’ her hat to the cook and Kayla’s fancy fruit-cuttin’ chef.

  “Wait,” the man said. “You’re the woman of the house?”

  Sarah stopped.

  Best she reckoned, the woman of the house were Tania, the cook who, up until Sarah had made Jimmy send the rest of the staff away, had run the house. Sarah just lived there.

  “S’pose,” Sarah said. He stepped forward, offerin’ her a hand and she raised an eyebrow, but shook. Hers weren’t the hands the average food-preparin’ chef was interested in touchin’.

  “I was hoping I might talk to you for a moment about making a meal for you and Mr. Lawson tonight.”

  She looked at Tania, and the woman gave her a humored shrug.

  “What’d you have in mind?” Sarah asked.

  “That was exactly what I was hoping to talk to you about,” he said. “I know that no one does anything in Lawrence without Mr. Lawson signing off on it, and I wanted to make a good first impression.”

  “Well,” Sarah said, “he’s comin’ off a week of nothin’ but hardtack and gremlin stew, so I’d say you come at a good time.”

  He glanced at Tania, then took a step toward Sarah. That were a mistake. Different cities had different conventions, but Sarah’d spent enough time in Oxala to know when a man were tryin’ to fluster her into doin’ somethin’ by bein’ altogether too close. She’d figured out that a lot of ‘em didn’t even do it on purpose, they just learned from early that, big body, they came up too close to a woman, they got the answer they wanted.

  “I was hoping you might give me an insight on how to impress Mr. Lawson,” he said confidentially.

  Sarah licked her lips, feelin’ the slim, sharp knives she kept as a pair, stashed between her shoulder blades, but rejectin’ ‘em on account of it would have proved he’d got to her. She didn’t have to defend herself from this tubby, over-eager man. She just needed to step him back. She dropped her head, lookin’ him dead in the eyes.

  “Reckon you got the best person in the house standin’ right next to you, when it come to Jimmy’s taste in most anything, but if you ain’t got the sense to figure that out, by this point, I don’t reckon you’re much fit for Lawrence, long-term.”

  She saw the cool ghost of a smile go across Tania’s face, and Sarah tipped her head.

  “You want to know what I eat, it ain’t complicated. I’m probably not a palette up to your sophistication, at no rate, but I measure a man by the quality he can cook a steak, and whether or not he’s got the knack to make gremlin rise.”

  “Gremlin,” he said, steppin’ back to look at Tania. “That’s the local grain?”

  “It is,” Tania said. “I’ve been working with it since we moved here, because Ms. Todd is partial to it.”

  There was that same coolness, but Sarah didn’t take it personal. The woman were on Jimmy’s list of trusted people, and that she weren’t no different with Jimmy than she were with Sarah meant it didn’t mean nothin’. Chef pursed his lips, lookin’ at the tea kettle.

  “Steak,” he said. She nodded.

  “We raise our own cows, out here, so you got local meat to work with, fresh. I cure my own every year.”

  “I do have a dish with an award-winning mushroom and vanilla sauce…”

  Sarah shook her head.

  “Nope. No sauce. Dry rub if you’re feelin’ frisky, but mostly all ya need on a steak what’s done right is salt.”

  “That’s no demonstration of skill,” the man said. “That’s just cooking meat. I could get any line cook anywhere up and down the coast to do it.”

  “Funny thing is, I ain’t had but a handful of great steaks, out on the coast,” Sarah said. “Cook ‘em to leather, more often ‘n not, when they ain’t drowned ‘em in everything what ain’t steak.”

  “You’ve been out to the coast?” the man asked. Sarah smiled, lookin’ to Tania.

  “You’ll bring me the tea, when it’s hot?”

  “Of course,” the woman said, and Sarah touched her hat again, leavin’ and walkin’ up to the front of the house again to find Jimmy. She dropped the mail on his desk and sat down in one of the armchairs, takin’ off her hat and settin’ it in the other chair.

  Jimmy browsed the mail and set it aside.

  “Everything okay in town?” he asked. “What happened with the fight?”

  “Couple’a whippin’s,” Sarah said. “Nothin’ out of the ordinary. Talked to Granger a bit. Still got homesteaders ain’t ready for the flood on account of damage from last year.”

  Jimmy shook his head.

  “I don’t have time for them,” he said. “They need to learn to help themselves.”

  “And what of your investors?” Sarah asked. “They learnin’ to help themselves?”

  Jimmy looked up, rubbin’ his face with his palm, then layin’ his hands flat on the desk in front of him.

  “How much money are you making off of the homesteaders?” he asked.

  “How much is it worth havin’ a town to you?” Sarah countered. He licked his lips and leaned across the desk slightly.

  “I can build this town out of whomever I choose,” he said. “That they are favored as much as they are is simply your romantic attachment to them. They are not the foundation of Lawrence. You are, I am, Granger is, and Doc is, though Sid will stand in soon enough, if he needed to. There is a group of men who are plotting to form their own construction company and charge me a rate to show up and build. Your homesteaders should have no problem engaging them, at the right price.”

  “So long as you ain’t already bought ‘em all up,” Sarah said. “Granger’s sellin’ ‘em the lumber and the rest of the stuff they need, but they’re competin’ with you for everything. Can’t get nothin’ done with Jimmy Lawson absorbin’ all the resources.”

  Jimmy shrugged.

  “Point at one project I’m working on that you’d prefer I cancel,” he said. She narrowed her mouth, and he pressed his lips flat.

  “And with that topic closed, we should talk about Maxim.”

  “What about him?” Sarah asked. “He’s comin’, he’s gonna hit on me, I’m gonna snub him and he won’t notice, and then he’ll leave.”

  “He’s going to want to go up to see his claim.”

  “Jimmy,” Sarah warned.

  “I have too much going on to do it,” he said.

  “You sayin’ I got leisure time to burn with your bondage buddy?”

  Jimmy’s nostrils flared, and Sarah lifted her chin. She weren’t takin’ it back cause it were true, and they both knew it. Not that Jimmy had ever been involved - the implication was simply coincidental - but Maxim were hard into the life, and Sarah resented everything about the way the man looked at her.

  “I’m saying that you have the same vested interest that I do in making him more comfortable with his investment, and that no one is going to be able to get up to his claim without you. Not even me.”

  “You sendin’ Thomas up with me again?” Sarah asked.

  “If you insist on it,” Jimmy said, looking back down. “I’d hoped you’d be able to manage it on your own. Going to a mostly-undeveloped claim should be low-risk - y
ou shouldn’t run into anyone armed, looking for trouble - and I have other work I need Thomas for.”

  Sarah looked back as Tania came in with a tray and teacups, shakin’ her head at Jimmy ‘till the woman were gone again.

  “You reckon I can get up there and back without killin’ him, meantime?” she asked.

  “I think you’re going to have to learn how to manage all manner of men you don’t like without killing them,” Jimmy said.

  “What’s this about?” Sarah asked. “Really? You told me not two weeks back you could take time if you wanted it.”

  “I’m not fit,” he said, looking up.

  She paused.

  “Jimmy.”

  He looked at her through his eyelashes.

  “I’m not fit,” he said again. “I will be soon, but I’m not now.”

  “And you’d chuck me out into the mountains with Maxim on our own, you’re that bad?” Sarah asked, sippin’ her tea and settin’ it down on the desk. Tania had a cabinet full ‘a these preposterous cups, made ‘a seashells and baby tears, they was so light. Sarah missed the heavy ceramics she’d used at her own house, but she weren’t gonna complain to the face of the woman what were makin’ an effort at learnin’ gremlin tea.

  She rolled her jaw to the side, watchin’ as Jimmy looked back at his work, then she stood.

  “All right. Come with me.”

  “I haven’t got time for this,” Jimmy said.

  “You ain’t got time to be weak,” she answered. “So you’ll let me look at you, and you won’t fight me on it.”

  He put down his pen and looked at her, then sighed, pinchin’ the bridge of his nose and nodding.

  “You’re right,” he said. She jerked her head toward the door.

  “Come on.”

  He followed her out into the entry and then up the stairs, left and then down the long hallway through the rooms, the master suite at the end. Jimmy’s childhood room were the other way, back turnin’ right at the top ‘a the stairs. Six boys, five rooms, plus Elaine’s room with Peter.

  She went through the door into the master suite like she owned it, mostly ‘cause there weren’t any other way for Sarah to manage it. She thought about it at all, she were like to stop outside. She turned back as Jimmy closed the door, and she nodded to him.

  “Strip.”

  He tipped his head to the side.

  “That’s not how this goes,” he said. She raised an eyebrow.

  “Ain’t it? I need to see what’s wrong with you ‘fore I can do anythin’ about it. I don’t reckon you’re like to talk about it, so I’m gonna have to see it with my own eyes.”

  He stood just inside the door, there, calculating, decidin’ on his play.

  She waited, arms crossed.

  Finally he nodded again, eyes cool, firm, and he stepped forward, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it out at the waist, then lettin’ it fall to the floor behind him. She held his eye as he pushed off his shoes, unbuttoned his pants and let them fall, stepping though toward her. He stood, relaxed, as she walked a circle around him, takin’ in the bruises on his thigh where the calf’s head had rode, the red skin on the inside of his knee from wet fabric and simple wear. Saddle sore’d go up from there, she knew. Bruises on his shoulders and his back from bad sleep. He had no knack for findin’ the flat ground.

  “You’re looking at me like you did the bull,” he said.

  “Ain’t ya?” she answered. “You’ve got oozies back here.”

  “I’m not clear what that means,” he said without turning his head.

  “Probably picked ‘em up at the stream, but it coulda been anywhere,” she said. She reached out to poke one of ‘em and Jimmy arched his back just to let her know it hurt.

  “You ain’t wondered what those was?” she asked.

  “Just more hurt,” he answered. “I’ve come out of fights better than this.”

  She snorted, finishing her loop and jerkin’ her chin at his shoulder.

  “Gotta cut those out ‘fore they dig in deeper.”

  “Remind me what they are?” he asked.

  “You ain’t never seen ‘em, before, I reckon,” she said. “They need a bigger sort ‘a creature to live on than what we got in the woods due west. Need the bigger meadows, and we just ain’t got ‘em. ‘S why we take the cows up there, too.”

  “Sarah,” he said. “What have I got on my back?”

  “Parasites,” she said. “Get bigger as they drink your blood, dig in as they go. Need to get ‘em out ‘fore they lay eggs and die. I seen one damn near kill a cow with infection, that way.”

  She took one of the slim knives from between her shoulder blades and held it to flame from her lighter until it went red, givin’ Jimmy a quick look as she tucked the lighter away in her pocket again. He settled his shoulders and nodded, face not betraying any concern.

  “You ought lay down for this,” she said.

  “I’ll be fine,” he said.

  “No,” she said. “Lotta muscle back here. Don’t want to cut no more of it than I have to, to get them suckers out. You wiggle, gets worse.”

  He went to get a stool and sat, leanin’ his elbows out on his knees.

  “Do it,” he said. “And be done.”

  She lined up behind him, countin’ out the oozies on his back to make sure she got ‘em all ‘fore she quit, then put the tip of the blade against his skin.

  “I’ll do it, but there’s more work to do, after this,” she said, splitting the skin under just slight pressure from the blade - it were the sharpest she had - and reachin’ for a cloth as blood spilled down his back from it.

  “Should be doin’ this with better tools,” she muttered.

  “How did you do it, on your own?” Jimmy asked.

  “Only picked up oozies once,” Sarah said. “Pulled ‘em out with a mirror and… this self-same knife.”

  “Then just do it,” he said.

  “I’d’a got Doc to do it, if I’d known I had ‘em and couldn’t reach,” she said, pryin’ the tip ‘a the knife under the round, black bug. Went in the size of a piece of grain, came out to leave a hole the size of Sarah’s index finger. She weren’t tearin’ a new hole, so the blood weren’t bad, but it’d take days for the muscle and flesh to work back where it were supposed to be, even with Sarah stitchin’ it in place and givin’ it a good shot of goop from her kit to help with healin’. Scar’d be no more’n what he’d ‘a got from just the knife cut, and she’d likely keep that from happenin’, since she were at home with all her gear.

  Doc’d’of used anesthetic, a pry tool, and a set of tongs, not to mention a sterile blade, but Jimmy held still enough as Sarah dropped the bugs on the floor next to him one by one.

  Eight.

  “Shoulda told me you was hurtin’,” she said. “These’ve been in here since longer back than us findin’ the cows. Probably the first night we was out.”

  “As you’ve pointed out, it’s hardly a surprise,” Jimmy said. “Are you done?”

  “Need to stitch those,” she said. “And then I’m gonna look at the rest of this mess and get you put together again.”

  He straightened, givin’ the immobilized bugs one last dark look as he went to stand.

  “I’m fine,” he said. She put a hand hard on his shoulder.

  “Jimmy Lawson, you think I’m doin’ this for your benefit, you ain’t rightly thought this through. You’re gonna sit and I’m gonna put you into ridin’ shape, ‘cause I ain’t goin’ up in those mountains with Maxim on my own. I swear to you, he would not come home.”

  He eased and she let her hand drop.

  “Now. I’m ‘onna fix you up, right, and you’re gonna look me in the face and tell me you ain’t gonna send me up there in the mountains with that man. I ain’t afraid. But I know he’s your friend, and for that, I won’t let you do it. Hear?”

  He looked up over his shoulder at her, the corner of his mouth coming up.

  “You just don’t like that he’s ta
ken a shine to you.”

  “He ain’t seein’ nothin’ but a big body to own,” she said. Jimmy actually grinned, then let his face drop toward the floor again.

  “He likes power,” Jimmy said. “It’s why we’re friends. Go do what you’re planning to do. I’ll wait.”

  She gave him a nod that he couldn’t see, then went down to her own room, collecting her patchin’ supplies from two or three kits, then takin’ em back up and squattin’ behind Jimmy to close over the holes after she filled ‘em with a steroid cream what would get ‘em healin’ up faster and keep out infection.

  The bugs on the floor were red squishes, now.

  She ran her fingers down his arm, pickin’ up his hand and turnin’ it over in her own. He raised his eyes to watch her, but didn’t change posture as she ran her hand down his other arm, raisin’ his palm to look at it.

  Lot you could tell about a man, lookin’ in his palm, if you had the time to take.

  Jimmy’d seen work. Not the kinda work what stained your palms, left the skin there in shingles, but the kind that made his hands hard at the fingertips and across the ridges at the base of his fingers, the outside meat of his thumb. Healthy hands, though. Scars well-closed, nothin’ unkempt, no signs of long-term poisons like alcohol and the like. She set ‘em back to his knees and reached up to put her fingers through his hair. He raised his head again, looking up at her, high above him, then closed his eyes and let his neck go, restin’ the balance of his weight against her grip on his hair. There was a low sigh, and she put her thumbs to his forehead to take the weight, then ran her fingers in a steady pressure out along his scalp. He let her rest his face there against her hip, and she worked lower along his scalp, down his neck, findin’ muscle now and rollin’ her thumbs along it.

  She eased him up over his own seat again, leavin’ him low as she went around to her kit, mixin’ a muscle salve she’d used on cows and horses, breakin’ ‘em in to trail life, then goin’ back to Jimmy and startin’ it at his shoulders then down his back, mostly ignorin’ the holes, but doin’ what she needed, to avoid pullin’ ‘em open again.