Gold (22 page)

He walked to the tree. The man
’s body was naked. Danny uttered an inarticulate cry of pro
test when he saw the slash of dried blood between
the man’s legs. His eyes went up to the rope
around his neck, to his livid face, finally to his
mouth. His mouth. What was in his mouth?

Danny gagged. He ran to the side of the road
and vomited into the ditch.

That night Danny O
’Lee stood at the Empire
bar staring at the whisky in his glass, oblivious to
the talk around him.

“
Rhynne says he thinks it’s this Diego Dellator,
or whatever he calls himself.”

“
He’s the brother to the girl that killed herself.”

“
Why Pike? What did Pike have to do with the
girl?”

“
He egged everyone on, didn’t he?”

“
Don’t know. Wasn’t there.”

“
From what I hear, seems no one was there.”

“
Why did the little Mex girl have to go and kill
herself? We’d of had a trial and she’d of been let go. Nobody’s about to hang a woman.”

“
Not with them in such short supply, they
ain’t.”

“
Maybe English Bob’s lucky after all.”

“
You mean him dying the way he did?”

“
Right. We thought he was a goner and then
Doc Braithewaite said he’d get better if he didn’t
get infected and then the next thing we know he’s
dead.”

“
I’d of hated to be him if he hadn’t died. With
that Mex butcher after me.”

“
Stuffed Pike’s parts in his mouth, they say.”

“
Here’s the lad what found him. Danny, tell the
gentleman.”

Danny shook his head, still staring at the golden
glow of his whisky. He raised the glass, sipped and
grimaced.

“
We ought to have law in Hangtown.”

“
Didn’t some of the boys ride out looking for
whoever did it?”

“
That they did. They didn’t find nothing ‘cept
Pike’s camp. A few hoofprints, Pike’s gun and
knife, nothing more.”

“
Whoever killed Pike, why he’s a hundred miles
from here by now.”

“
I wouldn’t be too sure. He’s crazy, isn’t he? A
man’d have to be crazy to do something like that.
It’s not natural. Like eating people. And if he is
crazy, he’d do something crazy like staying
around. Listening to folks talk about what he
done. Watching.”

“
You mean he might be here? Now?” The
miner looked around him. Though the room was
full, the saloon was unusually quiet. “Where’s
Rhynne tonight?” the miner asked. “Why don’t we
have some music?”

“
We want Selena,” someone shouted.

“
There’s an army man over at Coloma,” the
man next to Danny said. “Maybe he could help
track this Dellator. I saw him when I was there
last week. A lieutenant. Has part interest in the
Coloma store, they say.”

“
What’s the army doing in these parts? Still
looking for deserters?”

“
More than that. The army has a survey party
up in the Sierras. They’re talking about building
a rail line from the East.”

“
They’ll never get over them mountains. I come
over them myself and I know what I’m talking about. They’ll have to bring her through all that desert down south if they can get her here at all.”

“
There’s Rhynne. W.W., let’s have us some
music. The funeral’s supposed to be tomorrow,
not tonight.”

Ned climbed onto the stage and took his place at the piano.

When he began to play the miners stomped their feet in time to the music. “Selena , Selena,” they chanted. The clapped their hands and banged their glasses on the bar.

Rynne jumped to the stage and raised his arms.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “I give you the Empire’s own, the most beautiful girl in the whole of the western hemisphere, performing on our new stage.”

As Rynne walked about the room, turning down the lamps, Ned played a fanfare,
the men stared above the stage, where, on a platform seemingly suspended in midair, Selena stood framed by lights.

Danny stared up at her, too, as the crowd hushed.

Selena stood perfectly still, as if performing in a living tableau. She was dressed in a formal gown of dark blue velvet, with frills of lace at her neck and wrists. Around her shoulders was a wispy silk scarf of lighter blue. When she smiled it was like a portrait coming to life.

She
’s changed, Danny thought.

It was
n’t just that she stood high above the crowd, out of reach. Nor that she was dressed elegantly, almost primly, a lady from her toes of her strapped slippers to the tips of her white gloves. It was more than that. There was a difference in the way she held herself, in her poise, her seeming disdain for her surroundings. As though in the last few weeks she had become a woman.

Then she sang, sad sentimental ballads for the most part. The miners cried and cheered and cried some more
. She sang Home Sweet Home and they
sang along with her and Danny could feel the
heartache in the room, the loneliness of men thousands of miles from the women they loved. Tears
filled his own eyes even though he had no home to
return to. He ordered another whisky and sipped
it.

For the first time in months he thought of his
little brother, Burke, waiting back in St. Louis.
Like as not the lad believed himself deserted for good and all. Their father going, their mother dying, and now he, himself, had been away for over
three years.

Danny wiped at his eyes. Best not to fret over
the boy. Wasn’t he living with kin, after all? He
was called O’Lee now too. There were no more Kennedy’s now, only O’Lees. Danny O’Lee and Burke O’Lee. Well, Uncle Hornung would keep
Burke O’Lee safe and raise him decent.

Danny thought some more about his own name.
He didn’t feel like a “Danny” any more. He’d
done fairly well for himself and he felt himself
growing. He felt more like “Dan.” Dan the man.
Dan. He liked the shortened version of his name.
All he had to do was call himself that and every
body else would too. Well, he would see. He
would think about it. Meanwhile, he downed his drink.

He looked up. Now Selena was singing
Sweet
Betsy From Pike:

“
Out on the prairie one bright starry night

They broke out the whisky and Betsy got tight.

She sang and she shouted and danced o’er the
plain,

And showed her bare arse to the whole wagon train.
”

As the miners howled their approval of the rowdy refrain, calling for more, the lights on the platform dimmed and Selena was gone.

“
Selena,” Danny cried, pushing his way past men crowded below in front of the platform. “Selena,” he shouted, remembering his vow to speak to her. He stumbled against someone, muttered apologies, and at last found the stairs to the platform. Selena was nowhere to be seen.

“
Where is she?” he asked Ned, his voice slurred.

“
Laddie, she’s gone.”

“
I want to talk to her.”

Ned shook his head.
“She keeps to herself these days.”

Danny
pushed his way back to the bar. Ordered another drink and finished it in one swallow.

“
You can have a roll in the hay with her for a hundred dollars,” The man next to Danny jerked his thumb at the pine box behind the bar. “If you’re the lucky one.”

“
A hundred dollars?”

“
It’s a lottery. Ned there will tell you if any are left or not.”

“
I’ll buy a ticket. I’ll buy five tickets.” Danny left the bar in search of Ned. He wasn’t at the piano. Danny felt confused, he felt as tight as Betsy had been in the song. He wanted to cry or sing, he didn’t rightly know which. He stumbled over to the faro game.

The dealer looked knowingly at him from across the table.
“No luck with the women tonight, bucko?”
he asked. “Then you’ll be lucky
at cards.”

“
I’ve never played,” Danny said.

“
Had a man in here last night,” the dealer
said as he shuffled. “He’d never played before.
Went away a three hundred dollar winner.”

The man next to Danny took a cheroot from
his mouth. “Bet any card to win or lose,” he said.
On the table Danny saw a box the size of a deck
of cards along with a printed layout picturing
one card of each rank.

Danny laid a five dollar gold piece on one of
the pictured cards. “The lad bets the six,” the
man standing next to the dealer on the other side
of the table said. The players were putting their
money on other numbers. One placed his bet on
the ace and put a penny on top of it.

“
What’s the penny for?” Danny asked.

“
He’s coppering his bet. Means he’s betting the
ace to lose.”

“
The lad cuts,” the dealer said, slapping the
cards on the table. Danny cut.

“
Cut ‘em deep, see ‘em weep,” one of the play
ers said.

The dealer placed the cards face up in the box.
“Bets down,” the lookout man next to the dealer said. The dealer removed the first card from the
box and placed it to one side. An eight.

“
That’s the soda,” the cheroot smoker told Danny. “Doesn’t count.”

The next card was a four. The dealer laid the four beside the soda.
“Four loses,” he said. The
card now on top of the deck was a six. “Six wins.”

The lookout laid a five dollar gold piece on
top of Danny’s. “A winner,” he called out. “Gentlemen, place your bets,” he said in a bored voice. Danny noticed the lookout carried a derringer in his shirt front.

“
I’ll let it all ride,” Danny said, remembering hearing his father say those same words.

The dealer removed the six from the box and placed the card on the win pile. A two was the next card.
“Two’s a loser” the dealer said, “and” he removed the two, six wins again.”

“
If I was you,” the man beside Danny said, “I’d move my bet to another card.”

Danny shook his head.
“Let it ride,” he said. Two aces came up, win and lose. “A split,” the dealer called out as the lookout took half of every bet on the ace.

“
Rynne’s money,” someone said.

After Danny won five more times, he had six hundred and forty dollars in front of him. A crowd began to gather
around the table, some men betting with him, some against.

“
Seven straight wins on the six.” The word passed from man to man.

“
Eight straight wins on the six!”

Danny won again and still again.
The dealer called for more money for the bank and suddenly Rhynne was behind the table shuffling and dealing the cards himself. Danny won twice more. And still again. As each card was taken from the box, the crowd around the table cheered or groaned. There were thousands of dollars scattered over the playing surface.

Rhynne shuffled.
“I’ve never seen such a run of luck,” he said to Danny. “Sure you want to go on?”

“
Quit now,” the man with the cheroot said.
“Don’t be a fool. Quit winners.”

Danny stared down at the money.
“Let it ride
on the six,” he said.

While Rhynne took out a handkerchief and
mopped his forehead, Danny sipped at a whisky
that had appeared beside him.

The cards were cut, the soda set to one side.

“The jack loses,” Rhynne said. “The six wins.”
The men at the table cheered.