Page 44 of Working the Lode

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Zelnora

“It’s Aaron!” Zelnora was glad to see their old friend and mining partner. “He’s come to give us news, and—Quartus, go fetch the claret juice.”

“Compañero!” Cormack called, striding forward. “What brings you up here?”

Aaron beamed widely. “Old hoss!”

They clapped each other on the shoulders, then Cormack turned to gesture at Joaquin. “You might recall Valenzuela.”

Zelnora added, “Or at least met him around the Fort in various guises.”

As she feared, Erskine’s eyes narrowed. His hand even inched toward his revolver. “Joaquin Valenzuela. What’s this old skunk doing here? Robbing you?”

Zelnora put calming hands on Aaron’s arm. “Now, now,” she said.

Aaron pointed an accusatory finger at the bandit. “They’re calling for your head down at the Fort! ‘Bring me the head of Joaquin Valenzuela!’ is the cry.”

Joaquin stepped forward. “It’s all right. I understand your reaction. Bowmaker, I’ll be leaving now. I’ll report back with news about that incident.”

“What incident?” Aaron cried. “Could he be referring to the very incident I’ve come all this way about—the incident in the Sierra Nevada they’re calling Tragedy Springs because this bastard sent his men to rob and murder the pioneers going to the Colorado River!”

“What?” Zelnora gasped. “Joaquin! You sent your men to rob Mercy’s band?”

Even Cormack took a few steps toward Joaquin. “Explain, Valenzuela.”

Joaquin held his hands out, palms down. “Yes, I knew about it. That was before we became…compañeros, Bowmaker. But I did not authorize it.”

“You did nothing to stop it?” Aaron started for the bandit, this time actually drawing his pistol, but Cormack stepped between them. Aaron shouted around Cormack’s arm. “You knew that your men were planning on robbing—“

“Yes, and I did not participate. What is the big catastrophe? They told me they only robbed a few pious men of some jerked beef, then left.”

“Jerked beef?” Aaron said with slit eyes. “Jerked beef?” he repeated, more frenzied. “What are you talking about, jerked beef?”

Quartus stood lamely with round eyes, claret bottle in hand. “Jerked beef?” he echoed.

Aaron continued, “It was a hell of a lot more than jerked beef, you lunkhead! They killed three men and kidnapped Mercy Narrimore!”

A silent pall fell over the darkening glen. The only movement was Quartus’ hand slowly lowering the liquor bottle, and Aaron’s fingers tickling the pistol trigger, his eyes blazing hatred at Joaquin. Zelnora’s heart was falling. If this was true…Joaquin was an out-and-out liar, and Mercy…

Cormack broke the Mexican standoff. “Whoa, hold on, old hoss. Mercy? Kidnapped? What gave you this idea? Who told you?”

Aaron was so riled, he even poked Cormack in the chest. “Some damned letter written by someone named Rogers, that’s who! He addressed it to Captain Sutter and buried it under a rock in the Sierra hoping Indians would find it, and find it they did! They brought it to Sutter, wearing the dead men’s’ clothes, and I was one of the first to read it! Rogers said it was the work of Joaquin Valenzuela.”

Joaquin stepped out from behind the protection of Cormack, and Zelnora tensed. If Joaquin was indeed the same foul savage fiend of even a couple months ago, this encounter could turn deadly, and she did not have her pocket pistol with her. She knew Brother Rogers. He, too, had been eager to get to the Colorado River to meet the overland party of which Mercy’s fiancé was a member.

“I tell the truth, Erskine.” Joaquin’s eyes brimmed with sincere empathy, but Zel was familiar with that false countenance in many men—her former husband and Brannagh. “I take responsibility as far as those being my men, and I knew that Ward Brannagh was looking to hire men to stop the party from making it over the Sierra. Brannagh came to me first, and I told him I wouldn’t do it, so he went to my men directly. The goal was merely to rob them, so that they had no provisions and had to turn back, and this is the first I’ve heard of any murder—“

“Brannagh?”

It was unclear who uttered that name first—Zelnora herself, Aaron, Cormack, or Quartus. But all four of them suddenly crowded around Joaquin, revolvers forgotten, clamoring,

“Brannagh?”

Quartus wouldn’t believe Joaquin, that Brannagh would commit such a lowdown crime. Zelnora sided with Cormack and Aaron when Aaron declared,

“Damn—Brannagh! Doggone if he wouldn’t! You wouldn’t believe how many times I had to sit there with my mouth shut listening to him rail against the party who dared to leave the fold, while Sutter sat there corned agreeing with everything he said! Everyone knew the only reason he cared about that party was the loss of the tithing, and the workers to build his empire. That’s not to mention the two of you—ho, boy, was that ever a bee in his bonnet. You’ve never heard such agony being piled on—to hear tell it, Cormack, you’re as bad as this headless bandit here. Many were the times I wanted to draw the buckskin from my rifle, to have to listen to how you were thrown into Sing Sing for murdering ailing people, how you were a convicted escapee, the whole time ignoring the fact that I sat there, your fellow escapee, so why on earth would I turn against you and spread these stories—“