Crimson Palace (11 page)

So intent was she on watching the game, she was shocked when Tom stood, stretched his arms broadly and announced that it was time for him and his brother to cash in their chips. Hours had passed since she had sat down to watch, hours when she had barely moved or spoken a single word.

Being the only sober one in the trio, she carried the lantern for Tom and Ed as the three of them made their way back to their camps.

"How’d you manage to stay awake through all that?," Ed asked her as they trudged along the river.

"Sitting there for hours, not saying so much as one word, not even drinking a beer all night, that couldn’t a been much fun for you."

"But it was. I could have watched you play all night. I never knew how interesting a card game could be."

"Why don’t you sit in on the next game, if you liked it so much?" Tom suggested. "There’s always room for one more."

"Someday. I want to watch a few more times, until I’m sure I’ve got it down right. By the way, how well do you know that feller, Butch? There’s something about him that hits me wrong."

"Butch! Oh, he’s all right. He’s just one of the boys. I guess he’s been in town for a couple of weeks now, working a claim up there in Winter’s Canyon."

"He may be all right, but just the same, I think I’ll be keeping an eye on him."

Shinonn joined the Salverton brothers in the saloon again the next Sunday. Again she sat back from the table, observing each play and each player’s mannerisms. Again the time flew by as she absorbed more and more of the details of the game. She came to know intuitively which players had good hands and which were only pretending.

She noticed that time and time again Butch won the larger ports, seldom taking smaller ones. The more she watched him, the more she wondered if he might be cheating. No one had that much luck.

Then, on the fourth Sunday she came to town, Butch failed to show up for the usual game. Few comments were made of his absence as it was not unusual for a miner to choose to stay at his claim on any particular Sunday. In fact, Shinonn appeared to be the only one in the saloon who paid his absence any notice.

All evening she felt uneasy, anxious to get back to her cabin. Would it be as she left it? Had she hidden her gold carefully enough?

Finally the game was over and the three neighbors once again walked to their claims together. Before they reached their cabins, however, a miner from further up the stream came bounding down the hill toward them.

"I been robbed! Every bit of gold I had at my place was taken!"

The brothers and Shinonn exchanged quick glances. So I was right all along, she thought to herself as they began to run toward their own claims.

They reached the Salverton’s cabin first. When they stepped inside the one room shack they could see that they too had been victims. Their belongings lay scattered in every direction. Three empty glass jars lay on the beds where they had been hastily tossed, their lids lay scattered across the floor.

"Looks like he got it all," Ed said after making a cursory inspection. "All three jars of dust and the pouch of nuggets we’ve been saving for more’n two months."

"Come on, Tim. We’ll go up to your place and see how you made out. Then we’re going back to town and get up a posse. The bastard’s not going to get away with this."

Shinonn’s cabin was in shambles. Flour was scattered everywhere, the bag having been cut from top to bottom. Obviously the thief figured she might have stuffed her gold down into the flour for safe keeping.

Her make-shift table and chairs lay on their sides. Even her cook stove had been turned up-side-down.

Planks of the flooring had been stripped up and were thrown to one side. She looked down into the hole where just yesterday afternoon she had placed the partially full Mason jars. Of course they were gone.

But, wonders of all wonders, her bed remained untouched. Apparently Butch, or whoever the thief had been, had fallen for her trick.

She joined the other men from Kicking Mule in a futile search for Butch. Shinonn felt for heat from the stove in his cabin and, finding it totally cold, drew the conclusion that he had not been around for several hours. As the men gathered, it was learned that several other cabins had also been pillaged.

Word of Butch’s thievery quickly spread up and down the river, and in less than two days he was found camping in a dry gulch not far from North San Juan. A party of self appointed "deputies" left Kicking Mule early the next morning vowing to return that night with the thief. It was on that night that Shinonn witnessed her first lynching.

***

"The game is five card stud, deuces and one-eyed Jacks wild, Jacks or better to open, boys." The dealer was a prospector who had shown up in town the day before. "Although why I bother playing this game is beyond me. A fellow up in Downieville nearly cleaned me out the last time I played it."

"That’s what you get for playing with those slick card sharks," one of the men at the table commented.

"You probably got yourself in a game with a cheater."

"No, that’s just the trouble, I’d bet what money I have left that he was on the up and up. He’s just one hell of a card player. I watched him like a hawk and never once saw him make one move that was out of line. No, he just knows his cards and plays the odds better than any man I’ve ever seen."

"Who is he? If he ever shows up around here, I’d like to know what I’m up against."

"Bradley, was his name. Lincoln Bradley."

Shinonn felt as if she had been shot. Her heart was racing wildly as she willed herself to maintain an outer calm. Using all of her will power, she forced herself to remain silent. There was time enough to ask the stranger all the questions which were racing through her mind. How long ago had he been in Downieville?

And where the heck was the place, anyway? She had never even heard of the town before.

But the most important question of all was one only she knew the answer to - did she really want to see him again? Was she crazy to want to meet up with the man who killed her father?

Chapter 8

Although the weather remained unseasonably warm for November, the steep, twisting road to Downieville and the thinning air of the higher elevation took their toll on Shinonn and her horses. She had anticipated the journey would take no more than three days, but it ended up taking nearly a week for her to reach the crest that looked down on the town. From that point she could see where two rivers joined in the center of the town, giving it it’s original name, The Forks.

She sucked in her breath with wonder as she gazed at the village below. She had not imagined that here, so many miles from any other diggings of any consequence, she would find such a large, thriving town.

Miner’s shacks spread away from the center of town in every direction, nearly filling the narrow valley below. Crowded along the two twisting rivers that met in the center of town were numerous buildings, apparently both homes and businesses.

"Well, here I am," she said aloud to the town spread below her as she dismounted and stretched her aching muscles. Her words rang out in the clear, thin air.

"Mr. Lincoln Bradley, are you still down there? And if you are, just what the heck do you propose I do about it? Do I just walk right up to you and say, ‘Hello there, Mr. Bradley, remember me? I’m the girl whose father you shot six years ago." Oh, I’m sure that would catch your attention, Mr. Bradley! I wonder what you’d think if you found out I’ve been looking all over California for you.

Hunkering down on her haunches, Shinonn leveled her gaze to the valley, but the scene below faded from her sight. Instead of seeing the picturesque scene spread before her, she looked instead into the very depths of her own soul. What if he really was down there? What good would that do her? A man like that was used to real women, not someone like her.

She felt a tight knot form in her stomach as she realized that she didn’t have a clue how to be a real woman. What do I know about how real women think and behave, she asked herself. Even before she buried her old life back in that dusty prairie town, she had never really lived like other girls. She had never had a girl friend to talk to, never been in a decent house where "normal" people lived. Her family never lived like regular folks. So how was she supposed to know how people like that lived?

Just look at me, more man than woman, she stood, spreading her arms, exposing herself for the world to see what she had become.

I’ve lived like a man all my life. I haven’t the slightest idea how a woman attracts a man, how she gets him to see her in that special way. I’m just a joke - a very bad joke.

Hot tears stung her eyes, then tumbled unchecked down her cheeks. They were tears of frustration, of fear, and most especially, of loneliness.

Deprived of the natural love she should have received from her family, Shinonn had never allowed herself to even consider that others could fill the empty void she felt in her soul. What could anyone possibly see in her to love? And if a man ever did fall in love with her, would she have any idea of how to return his love?

Oh, life was so unfair! Why must she be destined to search for the unattainable? Why couldn’t she be like other women?

Grady was probably right; I am crazy, she thought as she turned to her mount. A sane woman would have accepted his offer of marriage and lived with him quietly for the rest of her life. But not me! Oh, no, I had to be different. I had to go off in search of God knows what. Which brought her right back to where she started, standing on top of a mountain without a clue as to where her life was heading or why.

She kicked at a stone as she walked back to her horses. Climbing onto the saddle, she cast one last look at the panorama below.

"Downieville, here comes Shinonn Flannery, otherwise known as Tim O’Brien. I hope the hell you’re ready!"

***

"That’ll be five dollars and twenty-five cents, young man."

The proprietor of the general store handed Shinonn a tin of sardines, a pound of soda crackers and a couple of apples. Although it seemed to her that they were on the very edge of the remotest mountain wilderness, the elderly man behind the counter was dressed in a black vested suit, looking every bit as urbane as the clerks had in St. Joseph, Missouri.

"Seems a might high, mister. Why, I’ve never paid more’n a dollar for a tin of sardines in my life."

"Then you ain’t been buying them in the high country, I warrant. You new around here?"

"Yes, sir, got in yesterday."

"You must be crazy coming up here this late in the winter. Why, any day now that trail you just come up will be piled high with snow."

"That might be, mister. Truth is, I’ve been called crazy before. I figured I’d get here before winter set in so I’d have myself a claim set up come spring."

"Just about every square inch of dirt has already been spoken for around town. At least everything that shows the least bit of promise. The best thing for you to do would be to buy a claim, if you’ve got the money for it. Either that or go partners with one of the other fellers."

"I don’t go much for partners. You wouldn’t know of anyone looking to sell out, would you?"

"I do know of one miner who’s seen enough of the high country and was talking of selling out before the big snows come. He has a place up-river, up toward what’s left of Sierra City. He hasn’t made his fortune, but, from what I hear, the claim has shown some good color. He was telling me just yesterday about how’d he be out of here in a minute if he could find someone willing to buy him out. The snows are already late this year, so he might sell out pretty cheap just so’s he can get down the mountain in a hurry.

"If you’re interested, I’ll get my boy here to look him up and find out if he was serious or just talking through his hat. I’ll let you know. Where you staying?"

"I’ve got a room at the hotel across the road there. I’ll check back with you. Thanks for the help."

"You may not be thanking me after you’ve wintered here. It takes a real man to survive in these parts."

We’ll see about that, Shinonn thought ruefully as she strolled back to the hotel.

She passed several saloons as she walked up the road, but avoided looking through any of the swinging doors. She was acutely aware that Lincoln Bradley might be in any one of them but, as much as she longed to see him, fear proved to be the stronger emotion.

She had arrived in town the previous afternoon, settled into her hotel room, bathed and treated herself to the biggest steak the hotel had to offer before returning to the room. With a pleasantly full stomach, she had laid her clean, naked body between the crispy sheets and been sound asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. She slept for twelve hours straight.

***

Shinonn stood beside the banks of the north fork of the Yuba River, inspecting her prospective claim. A couple of miles up-river from Downieville, it nestled within a wide bend in the river. The beauty of her surroundings distracted her from examining the more practical aspects of the claim. The only blemish to the landscape was the ramshackle miner’s hut which had been built on a rise above the river.

"I built the cabin up on that knoll ‘cuz this stream gets mighty wild come springtime. You’d be washed clean down the canyon if’n you set your house any closer. Other than that though, this is as good a place as any to do your panning."

The man grated on Shinonn’s nerves. She’d be glad to give him his money and be rid of him. He had the most disgusting habit of clearing his throat and spitting after nearly every sentence.

"I guess I wouldn’t be bothered much by neighbors way out here?"

"Oh, there’s a few other miners around. Not nearly so many as they is closer to town, but where there’s gold, you’re not going to be the only one digging it out. By and large though, the men around these parts keep to themselves. We’ve got the ‘professor’ just above you, we call him that ‘cuz all he ever does besides work his claim is read his books. He must have a dozen of ‘em in his cabin.

And just down the stream is old Clem. He pretty much keeps to himself, from what I seen.