Page 42 of Working the Lode

True to his word, Valenzuela had sent men to work about the cabin, repairing the horse corral, building a dry goods shed, putting real glass in the windows, and they had brought poor Thaddeus Martin’s stove. A couple of the Sonorans were also told to stand guard against marauders. So during her rehabilitation from the bullet injury, there was not a terrible lot to do except prepare supper for Cormack and Quartus, when they returned from the mines near sundown. Today she had even traded the laborers some gold dust for a few green squash vegetables, an infrequent delicacy indeed, and the trio dined on succulent stew in the clearing in front of the cabin.

“Oh, yes? And who is that?”

Zelnora could guess. Cormack was undeniably fond of Joaquin Valenzuela. She attributed it to Joaquin’s tawny good looks, his angular high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes, and the adventurous danger he represented to Cormack, a reminder of his own daredevil, rustic existence in the mountains.

Cormack looked musingly at an owl on a branch. “Why, Valenzuela, of all people. He seems to want to settle down, not really in the settlements, yet not really anywhere as disorderly as Sonoran Camp, or Ground Hog’s Glory, or Nutcake Camp—"

Zelnora nodded. “Chucklehead Diggings.”

“Gomorrah,” Quartus added. “Or Rough and Ready! Last month over there, they interrupted a funeral, because someone called out ‘gold!’ Everyone raced off, dumped the casket right in a gulley. ‘The congregation is dismissed!’”

Cormack chuckled. “Yep, I heard that story too. Those Rough and Ready boys will use any excuse to get out of a church service.”

Quartus said, “Or Hungry Camp. There’s no food there.”

Cormack seemed set on changing the subject, so Zelnora prodded, “Joaquin wishes to invest in winemaking?”

“Yep…Of course we’ll have to give him a percentage of any profits. That’s only to be expected.”

“Of course.”

Quartus pointed a spoon at Cormack. “Will he be actually lending a hand in any of the work? I don’t want anyone jumping in on my surveying, or stamping and monitoring the juice.” For Quartus had already pledged to find the most fertile soil with his divining rod, then hand-press the juice himself, as it had been ages since he’d drank grape juice.

“We didn’t discuss that much detail,” Cormack admitted. “He doesn’t strike me as a particularly servile labor sort of fellow. But he may want to oversee, if Zel doesn’t mind having a notorious desperado like him around.”

“Mind?” Zelnora echoed. “I don’t see why I’d mind. I’m rather fond of Joaquin myself, if he would just give up that annoying robbing occupation of his. He may have to take on a pseudonym. You know—‘Valenzuela Vineyards’ might not conjure up the ideal image.” She smiled. Of course it would be called Bowmaker Vineyards. She could draw a label of an archer for the bottle.

“Nothing wrong with the name Valenzuela,” said Cormack, “Leastways not over in General Vallejo’s neighborhood, where the best grapes stood to be grown. Vallejo and Valenzuela are kin of a sorts. They are both gente de razon, anyway.”

“He’d have to be a secret partner,” Quartus noted, and Cormack and Zel nodded in agreement, surprised Quartus had formulated that plan on his own. Stretching and uttering rutting animal sounds, Quartus declared he would go catch them some fish with a new pole he had fashioned while he was supposed to be shaking the gold rocker earlier that day. The couple rose and retired to the cabin.

###

Bowmaker

“A rider,” Bowmaker murmured into Zel’s ear.

They lay on the bed constructed from willow tree poles, Bowmaker leaning against the wall with the woman between his thighs. It was unacceptable doings to hear a mounted rider cantering up their path from the main road.

Zelnora shot to a sitting position. “How many riders?” she gasped.

Bowmaker had not realized she was still touchy about their run-in with the bandits. Of course she was. How often did a pious gal from the minefields of Georgia get plugged while being robbed of a thirty pound nugget?

“Sounds like only one.” Bowmaker rose to peer out the window. He exhaled with relaxation when he saw it was Valenzuela alone, alighting with ease with those ridiculously oversized Californio spurs not causing him a moment’s pause.

“Just Valenzuela—you don’t need to cover up,” Bowmaker advised. “He’s in a rush. I hope he brings good news.”

Serape billowing, Valenzuela strode to the front door. When Bowmaker opened it, he expected to embrace the former bandit and monte dealer. Yet after touching Bowmaker’s arm briefly and uttering “buenos noches” with thin serious lips, Valenzuela continued on to the bed, flinging off his serape and setting himself atop the mattress.

While Bowmaker stood mutely in the open door, Valenzuela stroked Zelnora’s hair. Dumbfounded, Bowmaker slowly shut the door and sat himself behind Valenzuela.

“Mi amor,” Joaquin was muttering in loving tones. Zelnora, for her part, gazed adoringly at the highwayman’s pointed, penetrating face. “I must apologize for what happened to you. I feel responsible for it, as I am responsible for all carnage in this part of the state.”

Zelnora fairly purred, leaning into Valenzuela’s hand as he stroked her behind the ear like a large cat. “Don’t feel responsible, dear Joaquin. How are you to know what occurs at every point in every road? It’s very possible it was just a group of random robbers who had no idea we had such a giant nugget.”

Joaquin tucked his legs up, his immense starry rowels raking the cotton ticking that covered the mattress. Inhaling deeply of the scent of tree sap that emanated from Valenzuela’s gleaming hair, Bowmaker extended a long arm down to unbutton the boots and drop them to the floor. It felt warm and safe here, sheltering the smaller man in his arms as he soothed Bowmaker’s fiancée. Bowmaker’s prick was already stiffening to imagine being intimate with them again. He was a tad jealous, he noted, when Joaquin eased down the shoulder of her chemise in order to inspect her bullet wound. Yet it was only fair that if Bowmaker had congress with the exotic desperado, Zelnora should also be allowed.

“There are no ‘random robbers’ in this part of the state,” Joaquin said darkly, apparently approving of how Bowmaker had bound her shoulder wound. “If there are, I need to know about them. I have commanded Jack and Feliz to discover who was behind it.”