Cotton’s Inferno (8 page)

Chapter 14

T
he next morning, at breakfast, the lady must have figured it was all right once again to speak of Rachael's father. She brought up the subject as she placed two plates in front of the visitors.

“We buried your father, child. Gave him a good Christian burial, too. And the horse, which is yours by all rights, is in the corral. You can take him whenever you've a mind to.”

Johnny and Rachael looked at each other. This was the break they had been hoping for; a horse would aid their travels mightily. Johnny didn't say a word, but he was thinking that finally good fortune was beginning to smile on them. He felt a twinge of guilt over thinking that Rachael's father lying dead in the ground had in some way provided them with a good omen, but the thought was there and he couldn't deny it. What he
could
do was keep his thoughts to himself, which he did with difficulty.

“Ma'am, would it be possible to go see the grave?” Rachael asked.

“Of course, child. Seth laid him to rest under a tree on the far side of yonder hill,” the lady said, walking to the window and pointing to a sloping stretch of grass that rose from the edge of a creek. “I'll ask Seth to take you over there, so he can show you himself.”

“Oh, that's all right, ma'am, Johnny and I'll just mosey on over. I'm sure we can find it. No offense, but I think it would be fitting and proper to pay my last respects more private-like. That is, if you don't mind.”

The lady gave an understanding smile, nodded, and opened the door for her. Rachael turned to see if Johnny was coming, and noticing him fixing to get up from his chair, she walked out the door and across the yard, confident he'd follow.

When they got to the fresh mound of dirt covered with stones large enough to assure that wild animals wouldn't be digging up the corpse for a meal, Rachael stopped short as if she wasn't certain she really wanted to do this. Johnny gave her a questioning look.

“There's somethin' I didn't tell you before, Johnny. I hope you won't think badly of me, but I have a terrible secret.”

“You? How could someone as sweet as you have a terrible secret? I don't believe it.” Johnny frowned to fully show his doubt of her statement. But as soon as he did, Rachael turned away from him and began wringing her hands. She wasn't looking at the grave of her father but, instead, was staring off into the distance.

“That . . . that monster a-lyin' under yonder mound of dirt wasn't my pa. I hope you'll forgive me, but I lied to you. My real ma and pa are still livin' in Illinois on their farm. Things weren't goin' so well, and they were all but busted, about to lose everything they'd worked so hard for. One day, this man came along and offered to buy me. My folks aren't bad; they were just in dire straits. So I was sold into slavery, even if it ain't legal. The man wanted a young girl to do his cookin', cleanin', and tend his garden. He was hopin', I suspect, that after I got used to him, I'd want to get married even though he was a lot older than me. I never did get to thinkin' that way. So, on occasion, he'd take a willow stick to me, maybe bloody my face, too, whenever he got a snootful of hard liquor.” She hung her head after spilling her story. She shuddered and hugged her arms.

Johnny was stunned. He'd never imagined a person could do such a thing to a lovely young girl. Then his thoughts turned to Carp Varner and what he'd done, and the reality of a harsh existence no longer escaped him. To his great satisfaction, he realized that he only cared more for Rachael, not less. After all, it wasn't her fault her parents were callous and uncaring.

He took two steps toward her and put his arm around her shoulder. They would stand there for another hour, silently gazing across hills that looked like an unmade bed. He hoped she understood that he found no fault in her.

* * *

Cotton was leaning on the bar at Melody's saloon talking to Arlo, when Carp Varner strolled in and, spotting the sheriff, came over carrying the Sharps. He ordered a whiskey and asked Cotton if he'd like one, too. The sheriff declined, saying it was too early in the day for him.

“I dropped by and the deputy said you'd be here. I finished the work on this rifle. You can tell the owner to come by and pick it up.” Varner held the rifle up for Cotton to see. The sheriff took it, looked it over good, and handed it back.

“That's good work,” Cotton said. “I'll ride out and tell the owner to pick it up and pay you. By the way, did you get a chance to look over any of the others that seemed like they were also needin' some sort of attention?”

“I did indeed. I'd say there's another dozen or so that need major fixin', and another three or four that just need a good cleanin' and oilin'.”

“That somethin' you think you'd be interestin' in takin' on?”

“Well, yes, if you think folks around here would take to a stranger workin' on their hardware. I would even be interested in takin' over the old man's business if you had a hankerin' to discuss such an arrangement. I might could even pay a little somethin' for the business.”

Cotton thought about that for a second. “I'll talk it over with the mayor. As far as I'm concerned, it sounds like an answer to a need, at least temporarily. The legal aspects about the whole thing would have to be worked out, however, once I've had a chance to try trackin' down any living relatives of Mr. Burnside, since I have no right to sell someone else's business. You go ahead with some of the others that need attendin' to, and I'll get back to you on the particulars of a deal. I'll be sure you get paid for whatever work you do. That all right with you, Mr. Varner?”

“Sounds fine. Mighty fine.” Varner drank his whiskey in one gulp and strolled out the door as nonchalantly as he'd walked in.

Arlo had a suspicious frown as Cotton rejoined the conversation they had been engaged in when Varner came in.

“Looks like you got somethin' on your mind, Arlo. Care to share it with me?”

“I can't put my finger on it, but to be honest, I don't completely trust that feller.”

“You've always been a pretty good judge of character, so I'd appreciate anything you've got to say on the matter.”

“I got no evidence of wrongdoing, or anything like that. It's just that his attitude since he first hit town has been overconfident. Claimed he's bound to be beddin' Melody afore long, and he made it sound like a sure thing.”

“First of all, Arlo, you
do
know that Melody is a whore. That's what whores do. Secondly, Varner's goin' to have to tangle with Jack first. And that won't be easy.”

“That's what I told him. He didn't seem impressed. In fact he snickered at the thought, kinda like he fancied himself as somewhat of a shootist.”

“He wouldn't be the first one.”

Cotton gave Arlo a wink and left the saloon, smiling to himself and thinking,
I wonder how Melody is gonna handle two fellows vying for her affections. She'll be damned tough to live with. This I gotta see.

* * *

When Johnny and Rachael returned to the ranch house, Seth was sitting on the edge of the porch whittling on a piece of wood. He looked up, carefully placing the wood—which resembled a crude rendition of a horse—on the step and gave them a nod.

“I see you're back from visitin' your pa's grave, young lady. Hope you liked where I laid him. I figured any man would appreciate the view from that knoll.”

“I, uh . . .” She paused before continuing, obviously feeling awkward about her response. Johnny saw her hesitation and jumped in.

“Your location was perfect, sir. He'd be pleased, I'm sure. We were impressed with what a beautiful piece of land you got here.” He quickly looked over to see what Rachael's reaction would be. She was still noncommittal, choosing to offer a weak smile instead.

“You were gone a spell. I wasn't sure a pack of wolves didn't choose you for their lunch,” Seth said with a cackle. “Well, it's about time for some vittles. Better wash up out back.”

“Thank you, sir,” Johnny said, as he took Rachael by the hand and led her around the side of the house.

“I, uh, couldn't speak. I'm sorry, Johnny, but the thought of saying anything nice about that awful creature turns my stomach.”

“I understand. We won't speak any more of it. If questions come up, let me handle them. That way you don't have to lie or make up stories about what a fine man he was.”

“Thank you,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze. “I figured I could count on you from the moment we met, even if I wasn't in my right mind just then. Still, in my heart I knew.”

As they washed their hands, the lady of the house stepped outside. “You two best hurry up afore Seth gobbles up everything on the table.” She chuckled as she went back inside.

Chapter 15

M
elody was sitting on the edge of the bed when Jack came into their room in the early afternoon. He removed his gun belt and dropped it on the chair. He walked over and sat next to her, bending down to tug his boots off. He tossed each in turn on the floor, then fell back onto the thick feather bed with a groan; all the air seemed to go out of him.

“What's the matter with
you
?” she asked, reaching over to stroke his cheek.

“I'm tuckered, that's what. Plumb tuckered. Been up since five.”

“Tuckered? From doing
nothing
?”

“Nothing! You think I do nothing? Let me tell you, woman, I work plenty h—”

“Yeah, I know,” she said, covering his mouth with her hand. “Listen, I want you to ride out to my new mine with me. I need to see if there are any miners nearby that are interested in coming to work for me. I'd rather not go alone. Besides, you need to see what a grand investment I've made.”

“Aww, can't it wait till tomorrow? I told you I'm too—”

“Uh-huh. You told me. But this can't wait. So let's get a move on before it gets too late.”

Jack sat up, groaning as he bent to snag a boot from the floor. He knew he would get nowhere arguing with Melody. There wasn't a chance in hell he was going to get his way, no matter which way the wind blew. He strapped on the Remington and opened the door, giving her a sweeping bow, suggesting she lead the way, as any servant would. She gave him a sour look as if she didn't appreciate the innuendo.

* * *

“At least you didn't make me ride a mule like that jackass Pick Wheeler did. He said only mules could reach his mine. I think he lied to me. This mare seems to have a sweet disposition,” Melody opined. “You're sure she can make it?”

“Uh-huh. Just don't kick her in the ribs to get her to do your bidding, or you might find she can turn real temperamental. They don't call her
Volcano
for nothing,” Jack said and gave her a wink.

At first Melody looked frightened by the name, then after a moment of thought, she narrowed her eyes and became the old Melody. “You wouldn't dare! If this horse even
thinks
of unseating me, you damned well better catch me before I hit the ground, or so help me, Jack, I'll castrate you.”

Jack began to chuckle, then he broke out in a gale of laughter. Melody just glared at him with all the venom she could muster.

After riding deeper and deeper into the foothills, following much the same path Pick had taken, or at least that's the way she remembered it, she saw something she thought looked familiar.

“Up there, Jack, isn't that a couple of mules?”

“Congratulations, Melody, your little jaunt with Pick has made you able to identify some of the wildlife.”

“Don't be a smart-ass, Jack. I know a mule when I see one. And that one on the left looks real familiar.”

When they got closer, Jack dismounted and slowly approached one of the mules. The animal acted skittish and out of sorts. Its coat was full of cockleburs and cactus scrapes. The saddle and bridle were still on, with the reins dangling and being dragged along. He looked over at the other animal, which had wandered off another hundred feet. Both were grazing on the bleak, nearly grassless downslope of a hill. The pack animal was still burdened with a fully loaded wooden pannier. The mule moved away from him with every attempt to get hold of the reins. Melody kept a close eye on the mule as she threw one leg over the saddle horn in an effort to get off her horse, but Jack held up his hand, looking around to see where the owner of the mules might have gone, or at least to pick up some sort of trail.

“Stay there, Melody. There's something not right about this. These animals look as if they've been abandoned in the middle of the desert. And there doesn't appear to be any sensible reason for doing such a foolish thing.” Jack continued his surveillance of the area. “Do either of these animals look familiar?”

“The one with the saddle does. I already told you it looked familiar. Don't you ever listen to me?”

Jack continued to very slowly approach the mule, talking gently and working his way around to a better place to grab the reins. As the mule got to a dip in the ground where enough water collected during the monsoons to help the grass grow abundantly, the animal seemed to lose interest in him and munched on a thick patch of the verdant green. Jack reached out very carefully and snagged one rein, still talking in a low voice. He was finally able to corral the animal so he could get a better look at him. He didn't like what he saw.

“What are you looking at, Jack? Did you find something to tell you who they belong to?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, don't make a mystery out of it. Whose mule is it?”

“It's Pick's. I figure they both are. It's for sure his old scarred-up saddle. And I'd know those hand-made panniers anywhere.”

“Then we must be close to the mine. If that old fool is trying to gather up a little traveling money, I'll kill him,” Melody shouted.

“I don't think that's what he's doin'.”

“How the hell do you know what he's doing? He could be up there right this minute pulling
my
silver out of
my
mine and filling
his
pockets. That bastard!”

“I reckon I don't really know what he's up to, but I do know there's a lot of blood on this saddle, and it doesn't belong to the mule.”

“Blood! You suggesting something happened to Pick?”

“Kinda looks that way. C'mon. We'll get closer to the mine. He might be injured.”

Melody looked down the hill, trying to identify anything that might remind her of the exact location of her mine. Jack led the one mule over to where the other stood, figuring that if he had one in tow, the other wouldn't sense any danger and would come along quietly. Just as he gathered up the rope to lead the second animal, Melody called out.

“There it is, Jack. That's the entrance. Down there! See that dark place near those rocks?”

Jack looked to where she was pointing. He led the two animals back to his horse and swung into the saddle. He'd tied the pack lead onto the other mule's saddle horn and led them both toward the place Melody had pointed out. When they reached an area devoid of anything but dirt, rocks, and old hunks of timber, he saw the entrance to what must have been the mine all the fuss was about. It was a pitiful excuse for a working mine, at least in his mind. He shuddered to think what they might find in the massive hole he was staring into. He could only sigh at the secrets held by that chasm.

“That's it! That's the silver mine. Come on, let's get inside so I can show you how rich we're going to be.” Melody fairly jumped from her horse's back, nearly twisting her ankle and falling when she hit a rock.

“Damn, Melody, you got to be careful where you step in a place like this. You could break a leg and there sure isn't anyone around to care for you.”

“Don't worry, I'm being careful. And, as far as going inside that old hole, I'm not worried. What do you think I brought you for?”

Jack started for the entrance but was shoved aside by an overeager Melody. She was at the entrance before he could locate his tin full of lucifers. She was already inside when he approached. She thrust a lantern out to him.

“Here, light this and let's get started,” she said, with the eagerness of a child on her first adventure. She shoved the lantern into his hand, staring at him with a “What's keeping you?” look.

After lighting two oil lanterns, Jack stood in the yellow glow they threw off. He looked around as Melody began shouting.

“See! Do you see all those sparkles, Jack? They're everywhere! What did I tell you? This mine is
full
of silver!”

Jack was picking at something in the side of the tunnel. He had a disgusted look on his face. He was shaking his head when Melody grabbed his shirtsleeve and began shaking him.

“What's wrong with you? Aren't you happy about all this money just leaking out of the walls?”

“No, Melody. I'm not happy. You've been
taken
. This mine has been salted!”