Ghosts in the Gulch: An Evergreen Cemetery Mystery (Evergreen Cemetery Mysteries Book 1)

by S. L. Hawke

  “This is private property, greaser.” The voice of Ian McKenna was unmistakable.

  “Good evening, it is Faustino Lorenzana. Remember me?”

  “I was told I would find someone living in the barn. Is that you?” McKenna was preparing a rope. “Because if it is, I have orders to kill whoever has no permission to be here.”

  “But I do, Senor McKenna. I do!” Faustino tried to smile but could hear the sound of rope spinning. Another rider spat to the side. Another man made a comment about keeping vermin off the land.

  “Unfortunately I do not believe you as this land is owned by her Royal Highness Leonovna. No greaser mixes with royals.” McKenna made a gesture with his left hand. The posse unmade their circle and pulled back into the small stands of young oak.

  Faustino ran. He ran towards the workshop because he knew Sloan was there. He just hoped that they would hear the commotion and be ready for this.

  Then the rope caught him. McKenna was as good a rider as Faustino was and the rope bit into Faustino with precision. Faustino knew what was next as he had roped many calves in his days as a vaquero. So he tried to guard his neck from the next loop of rope that hurled his way.

  Faustino readied himself for the cinch that would break his neck and choke him to death.

  Instead, McKenna dismounted and kicked Faustino in the chest until he was flat on his back in the dirt. Dawn revealed the Ice Eyed Gringo in all his vileness.

  3

  “Did you steal wallets off the visitors to the Duchess?”

  “Why? Do you want to share in the treasure?” Faustino said carefully and prepared himself for pain. McKenna looked away for a long moment. He shifted in his saddle.

  “Is there truth to the Spanish servant of the Guilds being a young girl?”

  Faustino blinked at the question. After two years, Emma was betrayed. By whom? Faustino vowed he would kill whoever it was. He did smile and met the Ice Eyed Gringo’s gaze.

  “I have been called worse,” Faustino lied. It was perfect, but he wondered why he had never thought that they could be mistaken for one another. They were, after all, the same height.

  McKenna kicked him hard. But he did not challenge Faustino. It was as if he had suspected the same thing. Suddenly McKenna saw something in the distance. One of his posse came up and pointed to the saddled horse grazing beneath a cedar tree near the burnt out barn.

  McKenna whistled for his horse, which to Faustino’s amazement cantered straight up to him. Faustino shook his head at this. McKenna was Latino in all the wrong ways, the temper, the riding, the machismo, and yet he hates us, Faustino thought and smiled. If we were White so would we, because Whites hate each other as well.

  Unable to untangle himself from the cattle rope, Faustino tried to run after McKenna. Another rider came up from behind and grabbed the rope. He dragged Faustino part of the way until something severed the rope. Something big.

  A cleaver.

  “I think we’ve all had enough fun for today,” Sloan’s voice announced. Faustino saw Sloan, hastily dressed, standing outside the workshop. It gave him strength to stand.

  “This piece of garbage belong to you?” McKenna approached Sloan with a handshake. They shook strongly as Sloan regarded Faustino with an angry gaze. He was clenching his teeth.

  “Why?” Sloan walked forward with fists clenched, looked down at Faustino. “What did he tell you?”

  “Actually, I wasn’t completely honest with you last night. I’m looking for a young girl masquerading as a vaquero. Since thieving was involved, this greaser could be taken or seen as a young girl.” McKenna was saying this lightly, as if they were talking about something that no one should worry about. But Sloan’s face changed somewhat as he stared at Faustino. “You still offering ‘good money’ for this garbage?”

  “Senor Sloan, I was late tonight with food. You were asleep so I left for a while. Fandango.” Faustino kept to English as he was not sure who understood Castellano or not. Sloan’s face did a number of expressions all at once. Faustino tried to smile at him, but he could see the immense struggle Sloan was having, keeping his emotions from betraying him.

  You saw us, was one face, then the next was, you know about us, followed by, you know about me, and then the last one was, you could have betrayed me but you didn’t. Faustino grinned at Sloan’s discomfort.

  “Senor, next time I buy you a better horse, one that does not tire so easily–”

  “Oh shut up!” McKenna turned away.

  “But I told him you might be someone who could take good care of your money–” Faustino started to say, hoping this would get exactly what he hoped for, a smack in the face.

  McKenna complied except that he also placed the nose of his rifle on Faustino’s chest. Faustino watched the lever cock slowly back. He closed his eyes and prayed, not to God but the person he vowed allegiance to, back at the mines, in the dark cell, El Diablo.

  “Hold up,” Sloan interrupted. He pointed a long finger at McKenna. “He’s a local. He knows you. So it’s safe to say he can assist me in working with you?”

  Nicely done, thought Faustino. The rifle gratefully moved away. McKenna looked at Faustino with disgust. Faustino shrugged.

  “Yes,” McKenna said with some reluctance. “He obtained permission for us to use certain access ways.”

  “Hmm, well, sometimes we have to do unpleasant things to achieve our objective. Oh and here is my good money for bringing him in.” Sloan padded his vest. “My wallet!” He frantically checked his pants pockets, his vest, and then he came straight over to Faustino and pulled him off the ground a foot. He pulled off the cattle rope, coiled it, and began to whip Faustino with it. Faustino at first did not understand why he was tapping it so lightly but feigning strength, then stuttered and began to fake cry and plead for Sloan to stop.

  McKenna was smiling at the action. Sloan stopped. Faustino curled into a turtle position and continued to mock sob. “I hope those bullion you took went to a good cause.” Sloan threw the rope on the ground. Faustino carefully peered under his arm as he whimpered and watched what happened next.

  McKenna pressed his lips together and faking concern simply asked: “You carried slabs on you?” The break in his voice and the way McKenna angled his head told Faustino that Ian McKenna may have taken whatever coin Sloan seemed to carry.

  “Yes, it was foolish.” Sloan was still flexing his left hand, open and closed, then the two men turned and walked off towards the workshop. Faustino wondered what had become of Emma.

  It was not long before both men walked back laughing as if a joke had been played. Then they shook hands again, and the Ice Eyed Gringo mounted up in his Californio way and rode off with his posse. Sloan immediately stopped smiling. He lifted Faustino off the ground again and dragged him against the wall of the workshop. He slammed him into it so hard Faustino lost his breath. Then he let Faustino drop and fall down on the ground while he walked in circles like a big puma.

  “I must be crazy. Absolutely crazy,” he said as he paced.

  Emma came out and gave a small cry of concern. “Thank you Tino, thank you.” She kissed his forehead. And then helped him stand up. Faustino could not help the jealousy he felt. Emma looked back at him and blushed.

  “I saw and heard the WHOLE THING!” he shouted at Sloan. Then Faustino spat out some blood from a cut inside his lip. “And they call me a whore.”

  “Watch your mouth.” Sloan came up to him but Emma spread out her arms.

  “What just happened right now?” She looked at both men.

  “Someone has betrayed you, Emma. McKenna knows about you.” Faustino looked up at Sloan.

  “They spoke about it last night. Said someone came to the Knights’ meeting,” Sloan said, staring at Faustino.

  “Oh my God,” Emma whispered. “It was Uriah.”

  Faustino watched Sloan’s face fall. He stared at Emma as if he had told her she was not in love with him.

  “Shit.” His voice broke. “W
hy the hell would he do that?”

  “That’s easy, he wanted to get in with the gringos,” Faustino said. Sloan took two steps towards him and hit him in the face.

  Sloan turned his back to Faustino. “Why would my brother join such a group?” he asked Emma.

  “Because of your sister’s husband,” Emma said crossing her arms in front of her. She looked very satisfied, almost luminous. Faustino studied her carefully. Ai, something would come of that lovemaking. Faustino could always tell. He had his mother’s eye for that. Another reason for his father to hate him.

  Faustino could feel his eye start to swell.

  Sloan was looking at Emma with something in his eyes Faustino had only seen in some men who desired a particular woman. Some men got their fill once from one woman and would move on to the next. Vasquez was a man like that. Others hungered for a soul mate. Sloan was such a man.

  “Towne came to my father and asked for my hand. My father had said no, and then shortly afterwards, he became ill, then died. In a way, I blame McKenna for his death too.” Emma sighed and looked at Sloan deeply.

  “Maybe you should tell him how rich you are,” Faustino teased.

  “Do NOT say another word!” Sloan commanded Faustino. “Or–” Here Sloan took a deep breath and looked at Faustino with cold, dark eyes. There was a deep fire in them that made Faustino tremble and then blush. “Betray me and I WILL kill you.” He said this in Castellano. Emma looked away, understanding the intimate tone of Sloan’s voice.

  “Where is your father’s estate? Is it near General Sweet’s parcel?” He pointed to the top of the hill in front of him.

  “No, my own parcel used to be there, before McKenna tried to seize it. The Rodríguezes stopped him and reclaimed ownership.” Emma met Sloan’s eyes again. “My father’s estate goes from Branciforte Adobe to the Hill of Vines.”

  Faustino could see that Sloan did a quick calculation. This was where one of the main railroads to Santa Clara ran. As if reading his thoughts Emma added: “I get money from the railroad for use of my land. That was where Liam found a small amount of gold on it as well, which he then invested. The claim belongs to a friend who mines it and pays me an equity split and installment for use of the water and land.”

  “Rich beyond many of the men here.” Sloan looked weary suddenly. “No wonder.” He stood and stretched his back.

  “McKenna would stop at nothing to, if not enslave her, kill her or any man who got near her!” Faustino spoke again then shut up realizing he had just disobeyed Sloan’s last command. Emma nodded vigorously and gestured at Faustino to continue to speak. “A gold-bearing section of land with easement rights in perpetuity is a land investor’s dream! Royal connections to Europe is a side dish for the Ice Eyed Gringo. It’s the perfect place to funnel money towards the Confederate cause. McKenna’s the man holding the reins, not John Towne.” Sloan seemed impressed by Faustino’s explanation.

  “Are you saying that my brother-in-law is just a puppet in McKenna’s play for power?”

  “You understand,” Emma said softly.

  Sloan narrowed his eyes. “I disagree.”

  “What?” Faustino said this at the exact same time as Emma.

  “I think John is not stupid but plays the fool. He needs McKenna for a different purpose.” Sloan continued, “Emma’s land is what the Knights were really after. Once seized, they could operate Confederate shipments without scrutiny. Seize Emma’s assets, cajole the Crowns of Europe into supporting the Southern cause and the United States as we know it would fall.”

  “That’s not a bad thing, for us,” Faustino admitted.

  “They know that, and are using you,” Sloan said, voice flat, in broad daylight, as if it were a fact. Faustino felt color rise to his face.

  “I have something, something that might help,” Faustino said softly.

  “I would appreciate the details,” Sloan said with a sideways tilt of his head, then continued with a half-smile: “Of course, I suppose I could beat it out of you.”

  “You can do that when you come up to their camp. It will solidify your image with them.” Faustino smiled.

  “It would be my pleasure,” Sloan said, eyeing Faustino with caution, and perhaps, Faustino hoped, some respect.

  Faustino worked his jaw. Emma found a working water pump and using her scarf, dampened it and began to wipe Faustino’s face. Suddenly Sloan strode forward, yanked the scarf out of Emma’s hand and gave it to Faustino.

  “Show me what you have.”

  4

  Faustino took the footpath up the gulch, past a few redwoods, and straight up to the top of the hill until he came to a set of large boulders, bulging sideways out of the hillside like a pimple. Faustino, seeing this landmark, quickly went around the left of the boulders and down a deer path into a hole. Here he found a lamp that he had placed in the alcove and lit it.

  Sloan followed but he was tall and fitting into the hole was awkward. Faustino tried not to laugh as he slid into the opening on his belly, carefully, as if he were going to be swallowed up by some unknown demon.

  “You do anything unexpected and I’ll hurt you!” he called out.

  “It’s bigger inside,” Emma’s voice counseled. Faustino grinned to himself, knowing Sloan might not be so brave if she had not been with him. Sloan wriggled in like a caterpillar and then unfolded into the cavern. Emma scooted in like a puppy eager to follow.

  Faustino lit the lamp. The light filled the cave, illuminating the quartz veins riddled with gold. Emma knew of it and had shared it with him, Faustino, but they both knew if the knowledge came into the hands of outsiders, the claim would be lost.

  Sloan narrowed his eyes and went over to the wall. He ran his fingertips across some of the veins, then stepped back, putting his thumb to his chin. Faustino admired him then, his dark green eyes taking in all, assessing the situation, and perhaps thinking of saving them all. Faustino felt the full impact of his love for Sloan and shook.

  A few small hand tools lay nearby to extract small amounts of gold vein, but some of the formation was heavy with algae and water seeped down the sides of the cave. In the far back corner of the cave an old Spanish shrine to Her Lady of Life, Maria Madre del Dio, was placed, she in a sculpted half shell enthroned in a pool of clear water. The bowl was lined with gold-veined quartz.

  Faustino went over to the Shrine, dipped his fingers into the water, made the sign of the Cross and said a brief prayer. He begged forgiveness for his weakness at bargaining with El Diablo.

  “When did you see the Devil?” Sloan asked unexpectedly.

  “I was in a prison without light after the pretty officer died.” Faustino caught himself. Sloan lifted his chin as he studied him. Faustino looked down. “Here are the things I have for you,” Faustino said quickly, not wanting Sloan to understand, or worse yet, to see his face in disgust, should he figure out more about Faustino’s life.

  The coolness and musty smell of the cave comforted Faustino, as this place was secret, and safe. Faustino quickly found the blue rock he used to mark his special place, lifted it up, set it aside and pushed away the soft, slightly wet dirt.

  The paraffin-covered burlap bag revealed itself. Faustino grabbed it and pulled in onto his lap. With care, he slid the old iron box, his father’s old strong box that came from Spain, onto his lap. Then he opened the creaking hinged lid and placed the open box on the cave floor for Sloan to see.

  Sloan moved forward carefully as if the box would hurt him in some way, then he sat, cross legged, and began to look at the letters within. He reached inside his vest pocket and pulled out a set of spectacles, square in shape, and wrapped them over his large ears.

  “Those are letters, Tino. Important ones.” Emma squinted at the letters; she too wore spectacles, but they were not with her. She did not touch the letters. Instead she snuggled against Sloan and looked over his forearm as he held them in his very large hands. Sloan looked through many of the letters, squinting, placing them aside, and
then looking at other ones. At the bottom he found the Wells Fargo list of gold stagecoaches and their departure times.

  “Where did you get this?” he asked.

  “I stole them from John Towne. He had a strong box. His sister Sally, she asked me to steal them and hold onto them for her.”

  “Sally Towne?” Sloan said the name clearly as if he knew her. “Of course. She wants to bring her brother to his knees.”

  “Yes. She told me,” Faustino agreed.

  “Tino, tell A.J. how you know her,” Emma commanded him. Faustino swallowed.

  “When I first encountered white thieves in the hills, they caught me.” Faustino rubbed his hands at the memory of his broken fingers. Sloan was also paying attention.

  “How long ago?” he asked. Faustino closed his eyes, trying to remember enough without the memory of the pain.

  “Two years ago. A little less maybe.”

  “She was the one who picked every pocket of every banker at your party yesterday,” Sloan said to Emma. “Lorenzana, who caught you? Did you know their names?”

  Faustino shook his head. “Not at first, but then one of them took off his hood and showed me his face because he wanted me to remember to fear him.” Faustino again held his fingers together. They ached. “He called himself Captain Ingram. He thought I had shamed him in front of the Red Salon. I didn’t. But he didn’t care. He kept saying I did so, so I apologized.”

  Faustino watched Emma and Sloan as they tried to work out what was being told to them. Emma looked upset and worried. She looked at him as if to say: You should have told me sooner. I could have protected you. But Sloan went back to the letters and looked at each one.

  “Tino, she saved your life,” Emma said with pain, Faustino could see. He could only nod. “And you owe her yours?”

  “I don’t know.” Faustino shook his head with two sharp strokes. “She understands me, and she wants what I want…” Faustino saw a look in Emma’s face that surprised him. She looked as if he had lied to her. Betrayed her. “Mi Amore, I-I know what she is. But she could help you.”