Jasper Mountain (23 page)

Milena was concerned for Beth, but also troubled that a man had just climbed into her window. “How did you get past the guard?”

“Luke? Last I saw he was … I mean …” The young man’s voice tapered off and his eyes shifted into deception. Milena wondered what secrets he hid, and not very well. Digger sighed. “Oh, hell, Luke ain’t nowheres around anyhow. That’s the part that matters. Bethie told me which window’s yours. Milena, she said we could trust you. She said you’d help.” The young man’s eyes pleaded when he looked to the doctor. “Doc? Please, this has got to keep quiet. Miz St. Claire’ll throw Beth out for sure if she finds out about us.”

Dr. Kline regarded the young man sternly, shaking his head. “Digger, have you lost all reason? Beth is Victor Creely’s mistress.”

Pained anger racked the young, scarred face. “She was mine way afore he took her. She loves me, not him. She’s got no choice with him.”

So. Before her stood the reason for the constant sadness Milena sensed in Beth.

“Please, Doc.”

Milena watched Ambrose Kline calculating, creases deepening between his eyebrows. Every thought reflected across his face. The doctor’s expression finally softened with sympathy. Milena knew his decision before he put it into words.

“Milena, if you will distract Isabella, be sure she stays away from the windows, I can help Beth.”

Milena nodded.

The doctor leaned and looked out of the window, then straightened. “Is there any other way out? Surely you don’t expect me to climb out of the window and down that wall?”

“We got to,” the young man said, relief threading through his voice. “I’ll take your bag,” he added hopefully. “The side porch roof is right below. Even if you fall, it won’t be bad.”

The doctor sighed. “It appears I am about to engage in the sport of wall-climbing. Hopefully, my injuries won’t end up too terribly serious either.”

Digger grabbed the doctor’s bag and patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t’ worry, Doc. You won’t fall.”

“Yes, well, thank you for the vote of confidence.” He bent over to look out the window one more time. “Good luck, Milena. We’ll wait five minutes for you to distract Isabella. Then we are off to rescue our ailing damsel!” Despite his reluctance, Milena saw the light of adventure in the doctor’s eyes.

“How will you bring Beth back inside?” she asked.

“You let me worry about that. You keep Isabella occupied. I’ll take care of everything else.” The doctor’s face burned with the excitement of his quest.

She opened her door and scanned the hallway. Empty.

“Milena?” the doctor asked. She turned to the sound of his voice. He sat on the windowsill, half in and half out. “We’re not finished.”

“Yes, Doctor,” she said, stepping out into the hall. “We are. I will tell your fortune later, as long as you do not fall out of the window.” She shut the door as his eyebrows rose.

Jack always felt like he’d keep rising and catapult into the air when the platform broke the surface to pop him into the real world. The contraption stopped, jolting the miners. A few stumbled forward, and the men in the front rushed off the wood disk. Autumn crept closer, and the light had already started to soften, but it still blinded Jack. His eyes barely slit open and tears stung, falling freely. God, he hated this part, the crying and not being able to see after coming up from the mine. He wondered if tunnel blindness would ever hit him for good, especially since it took him longer and longer to adjust to daylight each time he came up.

Jack’s turn finally came and he hopped off the platform, with Mouse close by. He took a few steps and stopped short, as did everyone. He shielded his eyes from the light with his hand, hoping he might see better, or at least stop the stabbing pain and burn. Through bright haze, he saw a form moving. He recognized Turtle scuttling around on the office porch. A tall, skinny blur followed Turtle out on the porch, Edmund Blum. Others came out to stand in a fuzzy, watery line.

The blur around them cleared slightly and he saw four men holding rifles. He recognized another of the rifle-toting men, a huge bulk called Bear, so named because he was big, fat and hairy. And mean. Jack’s vision cleared enough to see Bear sneer. Hoping for a fight, Jack thought. The man loved nothing more than to pound miners into dust.

“What’s going on?” Jack asked.

“Like you don’t know,” Pete grumbled back.

“Oh, Christ, Pete, I don’t.”

“Gentlemen, today we are instituting a new process,” Turtle began, projecting his nasally voice, “one to ensure your safety and sanitation in addition to the well-being of The Company.”

“He says ‘The Company’ like it’s God Almighty,” Pete said. The miners around him mumbled in agreement.

“Please form a line to the left of our newest building.” Turtle gestured to the structure they’d watched go up over the last several weeks, an assayer’s office or some other such nonsense, they’d been told. The raw wood building, not yet grayed with age, suddenly took on an ominous look. The men all stood, not moving, and a hush fell over the knot of miners.

“Once you step through the door, please strip. We’ll show you where to hang your clothes for inspection.”

“What?” Jack asked, and the other miners’ voices raised with questions. Turtle gestured for them all to be silent. “It has come to our attention some unscrupulous workers have been stealing ore. From this day forward, no one will be allowed to leave mining property until properly searched.”

A chorus of dissent rose on the air, the shouts speckled with a few choice words. Turtle winced, yet held steady. The men with the guns didn’t flinch. Bear grinned.

“All this for a few missing chunks of copper?” Pete leaned over and spit in the dirt.

“They discover a lode again? Gold?” a voice asked from the back of the group of men.

“Prob’ly. Creely gits richer and we git to strip nekked.”

Turtle waved his hands for the men to quiet. “Anyone who objects to this process is free to quit today. However, we will require a search before you leave.”

“This ain’t fair,” one miner shouted.

Bill Sutcliffe—Gentleman Bill as the miners called him, due to his proper dress and polite manner—stepped forward. He kept his hands in his pockets and bowed his head slightly. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Mister Barger. I ain’t pulling my pants down for no man. Not even one fetchin’ as you.”

A few men laughed uneasily.

“Really. Sutcliffe, isn’t it?” Victor Creely stepped out on the porch. Voices immediately dropped. Confidence oozed from Victor. He looked from one miner to the other, locking eyes with several, demanding respect. Jack watched while some men who met the mining president’s gaze looked down. Others, the outspoken, kept their heads up, and Victor’s look lingered, as if remembering them for future reference.

Victor planned this, surprising them with the announcement before their eyesight fully returned. When they felt the most vulnerable. Jack had no doubt the purpose of this search was to extend even more control over the miners and make them feel helpless by stripping them of everything. Even dignity.

Victor’s attention settled on Jack. His look asked a question. Jack could choose where to stand: with the miners and their strip search, or step back and take advantage of his special status at the mine, and declare his loyalties to its president. Victor’s mouth tweaked slightly, an invitation.

Jack held steady.

Victor’s eyes hardened. Power glinted in his expression and something else dark and mean. His gaze settled on Gentleman Bill. The only sound, a slight breeze rustling the aspen trees.

Victor broke the quiet. “Mr. Sutcliffe?”

Bill gulped and took off his hat and held it in his hands. “Yes, sir, Mr. Creely?”

“I suggest, if you want a job come tomorrow morning, you step up to the change building. Speaking of tomorrow, everyone is to bring a set of clothes to work in and then to leave for inspection.”

“Beg pardon, sir,” Gentleman Bill asked, “but what if we only own one set of clothing?”

Victor smiled. “The General Mercantile. Since this is a newly instated policy, I’ve instructed the store to extend credit to anyone who needs it, at a modest interest fee. That is, if you still wish employment at the mine.”

A chance to sink these men further into debt. No one said a word.

Victor continued, “Some men are robbing me blind, and it hurts everyone. It simply must be stopped, and I can think of no other way to insure success for us all.” Victor turned around to go back into the mine office, then stopped and faced the group of miners again. “And the company is offering a reward. Fifty dollars to anyone turning over names of thieves.” He smiled and retreated into the office.

Another masterful move. Setting the miners against each other. Not overtly; such was not Victor’s way. He planted several blades of suspicion with a few words, and in moments, tested Jack’s loyalties. The man was a master.

Gentleman Bill broke away first and walked up to the Change Building. Except Jack knew this change was not for the best. Not at all.

Milena searched the house and crept to the front door, careful to make no noise. She couldn’t find the proprietress anywhere. She glanced behind, down the hall. A locked room near the back of the house was off-limits to everyone, and Milena did not know if the proprietress was locked away on the other side of the door or not. If so, as long as she stayed, Milena’s job was simple. Cook worked diligently in the kitchen, the aromas wafting out thick and rich. The ladies napped and would continue to sleep well into early evening, like they did every day in preparation for the night ahead. They reminded Milena of bats in a cave, hiding, sleeping during the day, then free to flutter with unencumbered grace across the sky once nighttime fell.

The Golden Guard did not protect from his post, just as Digger had reported. Nor did he return while Milena waited. Fidgeted. Watched. She walked through the house several times, boots off to slip about without detection. Finally, after a hundred years it seemed, a figure skirted the road, hugging to the pines. The doctor held Beth in his arms. Thankfully no one was around; his covert actions were more obvious than if he had walked up the center of the road.

He stopped, apparently not sure what to do. It appeared the hero needed assistance. Milena waved him to come ahead, and on tiptoe she sprinted through the first floor of the house once again to be sure. All clear.

As he approached, she held the door open for him, gesturing for him to follow. They climbed the steps, Milena scouting ahead and watching all around. The hall remained empty.

Once inside Beth’s room, Milena sighed with relief when she closed the door. The doctor set Beth on her bed. The poor girl’s face puffed red with scrapes and many shed tears.

The doctor opened his bag and lifted from it a bottle of clear liquid. “Milena, will you hold her head for me, please? I’m going to clean her face. We don’t want to risk infection.”

“Milena?” Beth asked, her voice shaking.

“Hush, Sunshine. All is well.” Milena sat and helped ease Beth down, resting the girl’s head in her lap. She gently brushed Beth’s hair back from her injured face.

“Miss Isabella—”

“She is not here,” Milena answered. She thought of the young man with the scarred face. “Your secret is safe.” She looked straight at the doctor when she spoke, and he nodded in agreement.

“This will sting, Beth. Close your eyes and please try to hold steady.” He spoke softly. “Breathe deep. It helps sometimes.”

Beth shut her eyes tight and groaned with pain before the doctor touched her. When he attended to her face, she only managed to whimper.

Milena helped Beth undress down to her shift. The doctor checked her bones for breaks but, thankfully, found only sprains. Beth nodded, staring far off while the doctor explained her injuries to her. Numb with misery, the girl looked somewhere into the air, not focusing on anything and not really responding to the doctor’s words.

Milena assisted Dr. Kline as he attended to every scrape and bruise. She noticed how gentle and adept he was at his craft. Some of Beth’s bruises were older, their color already blossoming into sickly shades of blue and brown. A bruise shaped like a hand wrapped around her upper arm, a grip of iron, took Milena’s attention. The doctor noticed it, too. Their eyes met over Beth’s head in shared acknowledgment. Milena held fresh disdain for the King of the Jackals.