Jasper Mountain (47 page)

“Then I’ll quit for you.” Jack cocked his gun. The sound ricocheted through the dark night. “Don’t go up there, Victor. This is your last warning. Turn around, go back home, and live. Or keep going and die. Your choice.”

Victor didn’t slow his step. “And I will enjoy consoling the Gypsy whore once you swing from the gallows.”

“I warned you not to call her that again.” He tried to suppress his anger but it came shaking right out of him. His throat closed.

Victor stopped, right in front of Jack, the gun almost touching his face. “Why, Jack, your gun is shaking.” He brushed past. Jack swung around, still pointing the pistol. Victor stopped and turned. “Oh, one other thing I need to mention. I actually do know who burned down the Boarding House. Mr. Barger witnessed Reverend McShane set fire to the place. Seems our minister decided to clean up Jasper, take matters into his own hands. Barger’s entire statement is in my safe, along with the work orders.” He shrugged. “Look at it this way. At least you’ll have company swinging from the gallows.” Victor turned his back and chuckled. “Try shooting me in the back. You might be able to do it the coward’s way. Although from what I see, I sincerely doubt you’ll manage even that.”

Jack held the gun at Victor’s retreating back. “Stop now. This is your last warning.”

Victor laughed. Jack watched the light climb up and disappear beyond the gate. Then boot heels, a hollow clack against wood. The office door slammed shut.

Jack lowered his gun and holstered it. Steeled himself against the hammering of his heart. Damned gun never did him much good, in his top dresser drawer or out. He wasn’t sure if he even remembered how to fire it. But one thing he did know how to do.

Set a blast.

The office exploded, orange fingers of fire spitting out from windows. A fireball formed around the building as it collapsed. For a second, Jack saw the other buildings against the orange glow, the stamping mill, the headframe. Then all hell burst open, another explosion blossomed, and surrounding buildings smashed to the ground. Debris flew, twirling through the air and the dirt beneath his feet shook. A huge gust of pressure rolled over him, and two invisible thumbs pushed into his ears. He dove to the ground, covering his head.

Charred pieces of grit, dirt, wood, and probably Victor Creely rained down on him.

Y
ou will leave this behind.” Milena pulled the pipe from Mouse as he tried to light it. “Little boys do not smoke pipes.”

Mouse grimaced, leaned on his crutch, and glared at Jack.

“You wanted to come with us,” Jack said, facing Mouse for the boy to read his lips. After hours of sound coming to him through muffled, rounded tones, Jack held a new appreciation for Mouse’s world. But Jack’s hearing had cleared by morning.

Milena never said a word, not even when he’d staggered home covered in dirt and ashes. She helped him clean up, her eyes not judging. He wished his heart could do the same.

“Don’t worry, Mouse. A pipe is a small enough thing to give up. I hear her cooking’s worth putting up with her bossiness.”

“I do not cook,” Milena said.

Jack piled the last box on their wagon. What Mouse owned he fit into a pack, and Milena’s possessions were in a small, velvet sack she tied to her waist. Jack was the one with all the baggage.

“We leave so fast. Are you sure this is what you want?” Milena asked.

“If I stay another day, Cain will find a way to hang me.”

“He is one of the few who hasn’t turned on the King of the Jackals.”

Jack shook his head. “The man had no friends. Only people he paid. All the officers care about is clawing over each other to get the promotion to president.”

He helped Milena climb up to the seat as Mouse limped on his crutch, heading to the back. Jack lifted him up to sit with the furniture and Duke. Jack looked up at the mine. Only smoldering rubble was left. The blasts and fires had leveled the buildings, the stamping mill burned to leave a partial skeleton. The headframe had collapsed, the gallows finally gone. Jesus, he couldn’t believe the chain reaction the explosion had started. “I warned Victor not to keep explosives so close to everything. Bound to happen someday.”

What a waste. So much misery up there. Jasper taught him nothing was worth selling his soul, but something was worth throwing it away. He couldn’t shake the heaviness weighing him down. Maybe he shouldn’t try. Maybe he’d always feel this, the knot in his chest that wouldn’t leave. The sick feeling he woke with in the morning.

Their wagon clacked down the road, Willow not at all pleased with the demotion to wagon horse. He promised her he’d never do this to her again, but he needed her, just this once.

Before they left town, they had one stop to make.

Taryn waited in the cemetery, Ambrose, too, and a pleasant surprise. Beth. She sat beside Digger’s grave, a fresh bouquet of flowers lying on the muddy mound. The flowers’ colors were faded, and some of the dirt splashed up on their delicate petals, yet they were still pretty. Although not quite as innocent and fresh, they survived despite their harsh surroundings.

Jack lifted Milena down and she headed straight for Beth, kneeling beside the girl. Milena hugged her. Beth didn’t respond, but continued to stare at the grave.

Taryn grabbed Jack and clapped him on the back. Ambrose shook his hand.

“She ever break from that?” Jack asked.

“Not so far,” Ambrose answered. “I do have the highest of hopes. If you gentlemen will excuse me for a moment.” He walked down the hill to Cassy’s grave, kneeling beside it and bowing his head. Mouse hobbled over, grasping his crutch with one hand, swiping off his hat with his other.

Taryn turned to Jack. “Milena came to me last night, frantic. She couldn’t find you,” he said low for only Jack to hear.

He leveled a look straight into the minister’s eyes. “I know.”

It seemed Taryn waited for more. Jack refused to lie to him. He’d make no apologies, but he did have regrets. And guilt. More than he’d ever imagined. Although the world was much better off without Victor Creely, and Milena and Mouse were as safe as he could keep them, Jack didn’t think he’d sleep in a long, long time.

Taryn finally broke the silence between them. “I can’t believe you’re leaving.”

“Neither can I. I thought I’d be stuck in Jasper forever, and I didn’t even make it a year. Now I have no home to return to.”

“Any word from Buck?” Taryn asked.

“Nope. I have no idea where he and the boys are. I figure we’ll head to the ranch and go from there. Someone will have heard or might have information. Besides, I travel with my own personal seer.”

Taryn smiled although his expression remained sad. Jack knew how he felt. Empty. Used up. Old.

“What a damned waste. All this, nothing but a waste.”

Taryn shrugged. “Life, Jack. Just life. Sometimes it calls on you to do things you’d never imagine.” His eyes looked sharply beyond Jack, concern wrinkling his face. Jack turned.

Pete and Gentleman Bill were coming in his direction.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, glad we caught you,” Gentleman Bill said. Taryn winced. “Oh, sorry, Reverend,” Bill added. “Jack, you ain’t gonna believe this. Those blowhards from New York City are sending a gaggle of dandies to come and rebuild the company. They’ve named Barger interim president.”

Victor had always been adamant that the miners were replaceable. Apparently, mining presidents were, too. Jack knew Barger came with his own danger. He might not be smart, or strong, but he loved money and control as much as Victor ever did.

Jack sighed. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Well,” Pete said, “all in all not such a bad thing. We need jobs, Jack.”

“Just not those ones we had,” Gentleman Bill added.

Jack didn’t believe what he heard. And from Bill and Pete, of all men. “It will start all over again, don’t you see? The oppression, abuse, greed driving every decision.”

Pete shook his head. “No, it won’t. Not if you help us.”

Milena rose and came to stand by his side.

Pete continued, “We have them right where we want ‘em. They need workers to rebuild. We can negotiate going in. Just like you talked about. All of us. Together.”

“We can fight for everything, Jack: your proposal, the petition, all of it,” Gentleman Bill added. “We’re starting from scratch and you have to help us.”

“Oh, no,” Jack answered. “I’m sick and tired of fighting. I’m leaving. Now.”

“You have to stay.” Pete grabbed his arm and Jack almost flinched at the naked desperation in Pete’s eyes. “No one can talk like you, is smart as you, can lead like you. You’re the reason any of us came out of that mess alive. We need you with us, to start things right.”

“There isn’t a chance I will work at the mine again.” Jack looked from Pete to Gentleman Bill. “My choice as well as theirs.”

“We know you don’t want to stay, so we’re gonna collect money and pay you. You’ll be the one to speak for us,” Gentleman Bill said. Pete dropped his hand from Jack’s arm and followed his every move, watching him intently. Jack decided to put words to it.

“You’re talking about organized labor. A union.” Jack glanced over at Taryn, who looked very concerned. “Are you aware of what happens when that starts? All this,” he said, gesturing around him, “all this came from just a hint of us organizing. We aren’t talking negotiation. It’s confrontation, and it gets bad.”

“Yep, well, we’ve heard tell. All this hasn’t scairt us off,” Bill said. “Tom, God rest his soul, the whole thing was his idea. Said over the water, workers fight for their rights, and we should, too. He’s gone, Jack, and we need you. You started up where Tom left off, and you know we got lots farther to go.”

Tom, not really a sheep, as it turned out. A leader. Just a gentle, unassuming one. God, he missed Tom and Dig. All of them.

“I don’t have the heart for it anymore,” Jack almost whispered.

“Thing is, Jack, you do. You got everything,” Pete said. “All a man needs to face what’s comin'. You’ll do what a man’s gotta do. No matter what.” He looked straight at Jack. Pete’s eyes didn’t waver into judgment. “Look, we’re takin’ you by surprise. Why don’t you talk to the missus and we’ll wait at Sam’s for you.”

“Sam’s?”

Bill shrugged. “Only saloon in town. And I need a whiskey. Besides, Sam’s been awful generous with us and drinks since the cave-in. Only charges me half.”

Pete jumped in. “Another settler party came in and they say another one is comin’ soon after. This town is booming and we want to get Jasper Mine started out right this time. We can do it, if you help us.”

Gentleman Bill nodded. “We need you, Jack”

Taryn rested his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “You know where to find me if you want to discuss anything. Anything at all. But Jack, you’ll know the right thing. You always do.”

He supposed it was the closest he’d ever get to a statement of forgiveness from the minister. Now if he’d only forgive himself. He watched their backs as they left and then hugged Milena to him.

“What am I going to do?”

Milena looked up. “Whatever you decide, I will agree. You travel a sure path, Jack Buchanan. A strong one.”

“You said your people survived by running. Will I end mine by staying?”

She shook her head. “I cannot answer this for you.”

“Buck. The boys.”

“They will find you. Your father knows you are in Jasper.” “And you and Mouse. I want the two of you to be happy. Safe. Always.”

“Mouse is home here. He will not work at the mine, and perhaps never play as a little boy, but he has us now. And Duke. And Willow. He has everything in Jasper. As long as you are here, I do, as well.”

Jack looked up at the mountain. Maybe not so much Hell as Purgatory. He wondered if he’d ever make it out.

Isabella St. Claire handed a pamphlet to Jack, Pete, and Gentleman Bill when they came through the swinging doors and stepped off the porch saloon. The three were in the bar for several hours and in the middle of the day. Shameful.

The trio’s collective bewildered expression begged her to take it upon herself to enlighten them, as it seemed all men needed. Insight from the superior of the species.

“I’m running for mayor. The elections are in two weeks.”

“Isabella, I hate to break the news to you, but women don’t have any vote in the Colorado Territory,” Jack said.

“Minor detail. We’ll be a state any day now. The mayor we have is pathetic, in many, many ways, some of which I won’t mention.” She smiled. “Jasper needs me.”

“I completely agree, however, women don’t vote in the States, either,” Jack said with his usual, boring Jack-earnestness.

“Another minor detail. And only a matter of time. Since when did Jasper follow any laws anyway?”

“I take exception to that,” Cain said, pushing himself from his leaning position under the eaves of the saloon. “Plenty of law here.”

“Besides,” Isabella continued, “I’ve never had any problem with the male population of Jasper, which outnumbers women, oh, around a hundred to one.” She winked at Bill. “I’ve become especially popular with the rough-living, hard-working men of the town.”

She looked up to the church, the setting sun causing it to glow in a glorious, heavenly way. Wouldn’t it be fun, the first time the minister of Jasper interacted with her as the mayor? They’d both sit on the town council. Perhaps she’d finally walk into the church, accepted. Mayor St. Claire. Her list of goals also included getting the handsome and forthright Reverend McShane exactly where she wanted him. She always aimed for the best. When he stood up to Victor Creely at the funeral in the rain, citing Scripture with such intense, unleashed passion, she’d almost swooned.