Greg

by Kathleen Ball

  Mercy’s face turned red, and she dropped her arms to her side. “I saw Shelly go in your tent and it was a very, very long time before she left. Pa wouldn’t allow me to go over to your tent while she was there. I can only think of one reason. How much does she make doing the things she does?”

  He angled his head. “You have a sharp tongue, Mercy. If you want to know something about Shelly, ask her yourself. I could tell you the rest wasn’t any of your business but I don’t want you to think badly of me. She was there before I got done with supper. I pulled a gun on her.”

  “She should know better!” Mercy insisted.

  “Yes, she should. She invited me down to the saloon again. I said no. Hard to tell if she was looking around my claim or if the invite was genuine. I think they might want me to play poker and fleece me. I do know how to play. My pa made sure all us boys had a feel for it. He knew how more experienced men take advantage. Plus he didn’t want my brother Juan shooting anyone for cheating.”

  “Your pa sounds like a very smart man. I’d like to meet him someday.” She smiled. “I’d best go and brush out my clothes.”

  “Brush?”

  “Yes, until I have a chance to get to one of the watering holes. The stream below is always stirred up with silt. I wear one set of clothes and take them off at night to let them dry. Wear another set the next day and by that evening, the first set has dried mud on it. You can get most of the mud off with a stiff brush. Makes them look halfway decent. Tell you what, I’ll show you tomorrow night.”

  Greg nodded. “Thanks. What about taking a bath around here?”

  “It’s easy for the men. There is a small pond up yonder. Make sure you bring your own soap and keep an eye on your things on the bank. I usually haul some water and heat it. It’s not much but unless I pay to use the bath house, which isn’t all that private, it’s the best I can do.”

  “You always look clean to me.”

  “You’re a charmer and a bad liar, Greg Settler, but I’ll take it to heart anyway. There aren’t many compliments to be had around here.”

  “Eureka!” Hugo yelled from inside his mine, and Mercy placed her hand over her heart.

  “He just put a target on our backs. I need to keep him quiet.” She hurried off and ran toward her mine.

  Greg followed, looking around. Too many people staring at the Watkins’ mine, and most were not wearing looks of happiness. He’d already learned that jealousy over another miner’s success could turn deadly with the quickness of a striking snake. He could see the calculated expressions some of the men wore. His rifle was just inside his tent, so he reached in and grabbed it as well as bullets.

  Shots rang out just as he stood, and his blood seemed to freeze in his veins.

  Hugo staggered out of his mine, a gun in his hand and blood running down his chest, soaking his shirt. He fixed a glazed-eyed stare on Greg. “Mercy,” he gasped. “Watch over my Mercy.”

  Heart racing, Greg went to his friend and knelt beside him. “Where is she?”

  “She’s been…shot…but…only in the shoulder.”

  Torn between helping Hugo and going for Mercy, Greg started to stand.

  With a sudden burst of energy, Hugo reached out and grabbed Greg’s arm. “Please. Take care of her for me.” Then he slumped as his breathing became harsh.

  Greg nodded and ran into the mine. He nearly tripped over a dead miner, a man he didn’t recognize, on his way. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the dim light. Mercy sat on the ground, her back against the wall of rock, cradling her arm. Greg fell to his knees and gently said her name.

  It took a minute but she looked at him. “Pa?”

  “He was still alive when I came in to get you, but it doesn’t look good.”

  She simply nodded and allowed him to help her up. She started to run but stopped. “Dizzy.”

  Greg immediately scooped her up and carried her out. He set her down next to her father.

  “Pa? Pa, you old fool. You know better than to let people know you found gold.” Tears trailed down her face leaving traces of mud on her cheeks.

  With a lot of effort, Hugo pushed his eyes open. “There wasn’t…much but…I was relieved to have…found anything. I owe…Carl money.” He took a rattling breath. “I love you.” Blood welled at the corners of his mouth, and then he took one final breath.

  With her mouth set in a grim line, Mercy closed his eyes and then dried her tears. “Someone get the undertaker!” she called. “Greg, can you help me get him dressed in his good clothes?”

  “Of course.” He swallowed hard. He was no stranger to hardship and death, but it never got easier. “Come, show me where they are.” He scanned the growing crowd. “If you’re not here to help, I’d appreciate it if you went on your way.” Most wandered off, throwing occasional glances over their shoulders. Smitz, Glad, and Longster stayed.

  “We’ll dig the grave and help carry the coffin,” Smitz said.

  “Thank you.” Greg helped Mercy up and went into her mine with her.

  “Friends of yours?” she asked.

  “Your father introduced us. We had a meal together.”

  “Good enough.” She knelt in front of a trunk and pulled out a tattered but clean suit of clothes. “I want him buried in these.”

  “Now let’s get someone to look at your arm,” he suggested.

  “No, not now.”

  “Then at least sit for a second so I can put a makeshift bandage on it.” He closed the trunk and had Mercy sit on it. He grabbed the cleanest cloth he could fine and dipped it in the warm water near the fire. He gently unbuttoned her shirt and helped her to get her arm out of the sleeve. He sighed in relief. “It looks like it grazed you. I’ll bandage it for now but we’ll check it later to see if it needs stitching.”

  She nodded as though she wasn’t even listening to him. Her mind was somewhere else. He patched her up and helped her back into her shirt. He then put a coat over her shoulders to hide the wound. This was not the place to show any type of weakness.

  “I’ll get everything ready, and then we’ll walk to the cemetery if that’s fine with you.” Her pale face and the lost look she wore broke his heart.

  He wanted to be angry at Carl, but Hugo had been the one who kept going down to the saloon to gamble. Carl just let him borrow more than he could pay back. That was probably the plan all along. How many other miners had signed their claims over to Carl?

  Greg bent and kissed her cheek and then left. Mac promised to stand guard while Greg took care of a few things. Greg had lived a hard life at times but nothing prepared him for the callousness of the men he’d encountered in the mining camp.

  The next thing he knew his head felt as though it exploded.

  ***

  Mercy’s heart was as cold as ice. After promising to help her, Greg had left. His things were even gone from his tent. Walking behind the pine coffin to the hole in the ground had been unbearable. She didn’t ask where Greg had gone. People lit out all the time, but she’d thought he was different. She’d thought he would at least see her father buried out of respect for the friendship he had been offered.

  Shelly of all people stood next to her at the funeral and held her hand. Mercy was grateful and thanked her when it was over. Then Mercy stood alone and watched the men shovel the dirt over the coffin. The coffin her beloved father now lay in. When the last shovelful was thrown on top, she turned and walked up to her claim. It was no surprise to her it had been ransacked.

  Oh, Pa how could you have been so careless? You knew better than to yell in excitement.

  Cleaning up would give her something to do. She had no doubt that she’d be visited by buyers and suitors. Who would take over Greg’s mine?

  Her arm hurt like the dickens, but she pushed it to the back of her mind. She bent and picked up her pa’s pipe from the dirt. The smell of the tobacco clutched her heart and refused to let go. She put the pipe in her pocket; it would be something to remember him by.

  Drawin
g herself up, she called out to the man called Glad.

  “Yes, ma’am? What can I do for you?”

  “I was wondering if I could hire you to guard my mine. You see I have a feeling people are going to think it easy to make me just go away. I can pay you.”

  “I partner with Mac and Longster on our claim. I’ll see if I can be spared. I’ll be back.”

  She rummaged until she found her scale. It had cost her a fortune but it had kept her from being cheated too many times to count. She weighed nuggets until she had enough to more than tempt Glad. Then she buried the scale in one place and hid her gold in another.

  “Mercy! Mercy!” She recognized Shelly’s voice and hoped against hope it wasn’t some type of ruse.

  Mercy opened the flap and Shelly ran in breathing hard. “They arrested Greg for killin’ your pa. They want to hang him.”

  Mercy grabbed her hat. “Where? Where are they?”

  “The saloon.”

  Mercy scooped up the gold she’d weighed and started out of the tent. She stopped when she saw Glad and Mac coming toward her. She opened her hand. “Would this be enough to watch the two mines and have one of you come to the saloon to stop a hanging?”

  “You got this out of that mine?” Mac asked.

  “No, my pa’s been gold mining all my life. I always squirreled away some in case.”

  Glad closed her hand for her. “Take it with you in case you need to buy Greg back. Mac will go with you, and I’ll guard the two claims.” He shook his head. “Used to be you could trust miners.”

  With barely a nod of thanks, Mercy ran down to the saloon. She’d heard it called a den of sin before but when she slowed herself to a walk, held her head high, and then entered, she was surprised it was set to look like a jury trial.

  “Who accused this man?” she asked loudly as she scanned the tented saloon. She had to quickly glance away from a painting of a naked woman behind the bar. Most of the people there were drunken miners, and Carl seemed to be the man in charge.

  Greg looked as though he didn’t quite know what was going on. He had blood flowing down the side of his head. She walked toward him but was blocked by one of Carl’s men. She heard Mac grunt behind her and motioned for him to stay.

  “He’s injured. I intend to take a look.” She stared at Carl until he gestured for her to move forward.

  She sat on a chair next to him and touched his head. He winced and she saw shards of glass in his hair. “Who hit him with a bottle?”

  She’d never seen so many men shrug at once before. Standing she put her hands on her hips and glared at Carl. “You are not trying this man.”

  Carl laughed. “Listen honey, you don’t get no say in here.”

  There was much agreement throughout the saloon.

  “So, you’re the new sheriff here? You never asked me what happened, and I was there. Makes no sense to me.”

  “I’ll have you put out of here if you don’t shut your mouth. Your pa owed me more than your mine is worth, so I’m taking it. And this greenhorn is going to hang.”

  She scanned the crowd again and smiled. “I guess you didn’t count on the territorial judge being here today, did you?”

  Carl’s confidence seemed to falter as she frowned and looked around.

  A well-dressed man stood and walked over to Mercy. He kissed her on the cheek. “You’ve grown to be a lovely woman, Mercy. I was so sorry to hear about your pa. I would have been at the burial, but I didn’t know it was him that got shot. Now, have a seat and tell me what’s going on around here, and for goodness sake someone help this young man. He’s getting blood everywhere.”

  Chapter Three

  Greg was still trying to get his eyes to focus properly when he saw Mercy speaking with a finely dressed gentleman. Next thing he knew, she had a wet cloth against his wound. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the cool sensation.

  “What?” he asked as she began picking at his scalp. He still wasn’t sure what was taking place.

  “Hold on, let me get all the glass out.”

  “Do you need help, Mercy?” the gentleman asked.

  “Greg, this is Territorial Judge Leon Salt. He and my father were good friends.”

  “Nice to meet you, Judge Salt.” Greg winced. Talking made his head pound more. “I just wish I knew what was going on here.”

  “That, Greg is what I’m going to find out. Don’t worry. If Mercy thinks you’re a good man, that’s all I need to know. But, son, they aim to hang you.”

  Greg pushed up on the arms of the chair, intending to stand, and was astonished to find that he was tied to it.

  “Cut him loose!” Judge Salt demanded.

  One of the men who worked for Carl hurried forward and cut Greg loose.

  Greg got to his feet, but his legs felt like rubber bands. He stood for a minute and then sat back down, trying to give the appearance of being well.

  Carl stepped forward. “It don’t matter,” he said, talking around a toothpick in his mouth. “The law is the law. Greg Settler shot and killed Hugo Watkins, and he’ll hang.”

  Judge Salt looked amused as he studied Carl from his head to his dusty boots. “Does anyone have a Bible?”

  One old bag-of-bones miner came forward carrying a black, leather bound book with raggedy edges and handed it to the judge.

  “Carl, is it? Put you hand on the Bible and swear to tell the truth.”

  Carl’s jaw dropped open, but he complied. Next, the Judge told Carl to sit in a chair near Greg.”

  “Now Carl, think hard. What did you witness of the shooting?”

  Carl’s face turned bright red. “I saw that man,” he made a big deal of pointing at Greg, “He had his rifle and came running out of the mine laughing and practically did a jig right then and there.”

  The judge walked back and forth in front of Carl as though thinking. He stopped and stared at Carl. “Did he put the rifle down before or after the jig?”

  Carl appeared too confused to answer.

  “Greg, do you have anything to add?”

  “There’s a dead miner in the Watkins’ mine. I almost tripped over him going in to get Miss Mercy after Hugo stumbled out. No one mentioned him.”

  Judge Salt nodded. “Where was Mercy?”

  “In the mine. She’d been shot. The bullet grazed her arm. I helped her get outside. Hugo asked me to watch over Mercy.”

  Carl jumped up. “Convenient, don’t you think? The mine is full of gold, and Hugo asks you to watch over Mercy?”

  “There is no gold,” Mercy said.

  “That mine belongs to me!” Carl yelled.

  Judge Salt frowned. “Now why would that be?”

  “Hugo owed me money for gambling debts.”

  The judge nodded. “Fine, show me the ledgers where you keep your tallies and maybe we can figure this out.”

  Carl smirked. “I keep it all in here.” He pointed to his head.

  “I’m ready to make my ruling,” Judge Salt said.

  He stood straight and tall as he addressed the people gathered in the saloon. “Greg, what is your last name?”

  “Settler, sir,” Greg said.

  Judge Salt nodded. “Greg Settler is innocent. The dead miner in the Watkins’ mine is the killer. Mercy owes nothing to Carl due to lack of evidence. It is no one’s business if the mine is a good one or not.”

  He held up his hand as whispers and protests began. “Quiet.” He stared at Mercy for a bit.

  “Mercy Watkins, is Greg Settler a good man?”

  She blushed. “Yes, Judge he is one of the best men I’ve ever known.”

  “Is he in any way abusive toward women?”

  Her brow furrowed. “No, he’s actually kind.”

  “Greg, what do you think about Mercy? Is she a shrew? Do you find her unattractive?”

  Was he hearing right? He squared his shoulders. “Mercy is a very generous woman, and all you have to do is look at her and see how pretty she is.”

  Jud
ge Salt smiled widely. “Then there is no reason you shouldn’t be married.”

  Mercy yelped. “I have hired guards to protect me and the mine now.”

  “Very wise of you, but Mercy, dear, you must agree you need a long-term protection. As of right now I consider you my ward, and I would like for you and Mr. Settler to be married.”

  Greg’s heart sank as Mercy protested. Did she really dislike him so much? He thought they got on fine. Granted, marriage being sprung on him was a bit daunting, but if it meant Mercy would be safe, it was the best way to do it.

  “I refuse. Sorry, Salty but I just can’t.” She ran from the saloon as though Satan himself were chasing her.

  The judge helped Greg to stand. “You there!” he yelled to a young miner. “Help this man up to the Watkins mine and leave him there.”

  Greg shook the judge’s hand. “Thank you for everything. If it’s any consolation Mercy will be safe with me.”

  Judge Salt laughed then grew deadly serious. “She’d better be.”

  As Greg was being helped out of the saloon he heard the judge start lecturing Carl.

  ***

  Mercy paced in front of the fire in the living quarters at the front of her mine. The flaps were open, and she was mumbling to herself. Who did these men think they were? They couldn’t decide her life!

  “Miss Mercy?” Glad asked. “Do we let Settler in, or would you like me to knock him back down the hill?”

  She stopped and stared outside. Sure enough Greg was being slowly helped up the hill toward her. “Don’t knock him down. In fact, let him in. He may need some stitching. Glad, do you know who the miner was who killed my pa?”

  “A lazy good for nothin’ looking for a short cut to making it rich. Why he was even up on this part of the camp I have no idea. His mine is almost half a mile from here.” Glad frowned. “I do have a theory though.”

  “What?” she asked impatiently.

  “Carl had been spouting off about the debt a few of the miners owed and how it was time to collect one way or the other. In my opinion, the miner was sent to either settle the debt or claim your mine.” Glad raked his fingers through his hair. “If you’ll have me, miss, I’d like to marry you.”