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Authors: Kathy Steffen

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BOOK: Jasper Mountain
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“What do you think happened to Tom?” Jack asked.

“Lordy, I sure hope we find him under a tree somewheres, drunk.”

“Yeah, me, too.” “Think we will?” “Nope.”

Through the rough noise of the town, piano music drifted up the dirt street with a promise, drawing the two miners to the saloon. A crowd gathered outside as men strained to see inside. Jack heard shouts coming from within.

“Aw, not tonight,” Jack said, elbowing his way through a mass of men. Another saloon fight. The miners enjoyed fighting as much as drinking. Jack pushed through the swinging doors and stopped. Digger smacked into his back.

An enormous stranger stood in the center of the room, yelling and gesturing. He reminded Jack of a raging bull. He’d make one hell of a strong miner if there was a tunnel he’d fit through. Jack thought it unlikely.

“Calm down, Rolf.” A balding man put his hand on the bull’s arm and the scene exploded into mayhem. The bull picked up Baldy and threw him over a table like a sack of feed. Several other strangers jumped the huge man. He stood, a mammoth covered with gnats. He flung one man away who crashed into the bar.

Jack launched himself forward just as Sheriff Cain strode in. Jack stopped short. Things were about to get interesting. Jasper certainly had its share of armed idiots, and Cain headed the list. Sure enough, the sheriff drew his gun from his side holster. Jack clapped his hands over his ears as Cain pointed the pistol up to the corner of the ceiling and pulled the trigger. The shot roared through havoc. One of these days, the imbecile would accidentally kill someone, but the sheriff achieved the desired effect. Everyone froze.

“Much better,” Cain said. “Everyone sit down and shut up.”

Digger snickered and gestured to the unconscious bald man lying in a heap on the floor. “I don’t think he’s gonna find a seat, Sheriff.”

Cain swung the gun and pointed at Digger. “I said, everyone shut up. ‘Specially you, dirt-hound. You and your friends are gettin’ filth all over the place. What the hell you doin’ here, anyhow?”

Jack pushed between Digger and Cain’s gun. “How strange, Sheriff. We were under the impression this was a saloon.” Jack smiled. Cain threw him a dirty look. The men who had caused the commotion busily picked themselves up, righting tables and watching Cain nervously.

“I’m gonna say this one time, Junior,” Cain said, smirking at Jack. “Get your spoiled, good-for-nothing ass outa here. I’m sendin’ you home, just like your boss did. And Creely ain’t around to protect you now.”

“Or you, Sheriff,” Jack replied.

“I can take care of myself. I got what it takes,
Junior.
” Cain squinted and returned his attention to the strangers. “I heard tell someone’s wife is missin'. Whose?”

The bull clenched his huge, meaty fists. “That’s me. Rolf Olsson.” He glared at the Sheriff’s gun pointing at him. “No need for that.” The huge man pushed shaggy, dirty-blond hair away from his eyes.

“I decide what’s needed, and I say I need it. Who’s headin’ up this settler party?”

Which explained all the strangers in the saloon, Jack thought. Another group of settlers filled with fools searching for a better life or, even more futile, chasing after the promise of gold. A promise breaking itself repeatedly over the backs of the desperate.

A skinny man with a hooked nose pointed to a heap on the floor. “That there’s the leader.”

“We don’t got time for this,” the bull said, uncrossing his arms. “Laney’s a tiny woman. She might be hurt.”

“We seen her shawl on some rocks below Sunset Pass,” the skinny settler whined. “She’s prob’ly dead.”

The bull moved closer to the skinny man. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

The sound of a gun cocking stopped everyone. All eyes in the room trained on Sheriff Cain. The bald man moaned from the floor.

“Everybody out ‘cept him and him,” Cain said, gesturing to Baldy and the bull.

“Hey, Sheriff, I’m open for business,” Sam said from behind the bar. Cain aimed his gun at Sam, who gulped. “I mean, no need to empty out. Why don’t you gentlemen retire to the back room for some privacy? No games goin’ on.”

Cain squinted.

“Free whiskey, Sheriff?” the barkeep added hopefully. Cain nodded. “Thank you, Sam.”

Two men pulled the bald man to his feet and dragged him to the back. Jack watched the bull follow. Activity returned and conversations began again.

“You ever see the likes of such a giant?”

Jack turned at the sound of Digger’s voice. “He’s a big ‘un,” he agreed.

“His wife, she prob’ly fell,” Sam interjected from behind the bar. “They tracked her up the mountain, said she left the trail and wandered all over in the middle of the night. Musta fell right off. Damn shame to lose a woman in such a way.”

“If I was married to that animal, I think I might jump off a cliff, too,” Jack said, causing laughter to skitter across the room. Piano music plinked again.

“Jack,” Digger said, “you get some peculiar ways of seein’ things. Buy you a whiskey?”

“Thanks, Dig, but I think I’ll mosey on back and see what’s what.” Jack headed for the room in the rear of the saloon. A voice in his head warned him not to interfere. Cain would be furious. All the more reason to stick his nose in. He just couldn’t help himself.

Jack slipped into the small room before the door shut. Cain stood with his back to the door, the stupidest thing Jack had seen yet from the inept sheriff. Cain may have been a gunslinger before he took on the responsibilities of Jasper law, but Jack suspected the only reason the man still lived was dumb luck.

“I tried to find a way down to where I saw her shawl,” Rolf Olsson said. “Weren’t no way to get to it.”

“There is if you go down the north face,” Jack said. The sheriff jumped, whirled around, and Jack again found himself on the business end of a Colt Peacemaker.

The sheriff glowered. “I thought I told you to git. You’re lucky I didn’t fire a bullet up your ass, Junior.”

“Didn’t anyone in Sheriff School teach you not to stand with your back to the door? And why don’t you put that idiotic thing away before you hurt somebody?”

“You know a way down?” The bull pushed Cain out of the way.

The gun went off. Every man in the room dropped to the floor, including Jack. He lay there, numb and staring up at the ceiling. He patted his abdomen, his chest. No blood. No pain. Thank the good Lord in heaven, Cain missed.

No big surprise there.

Jack started to get up when a boot thunked in the middle of his chest and pushed him back down. He looked up into the Colt’s barrel. Cain cocked the gun. Jack focused past the weapon to the sheriff’s cold gaze and saw murder in Cain’s eyes. Realization washed over him like a frigid mountain spring.

“You really going to kill an unarmed man in front of all these witnesses?” Jack managed to say without his voice cracking.

A grin spread across Cain’s face. He holstered his weapon and leaned his weight on the foot holding Jack. “Won’t always be witnesses, Junior.” The sheriff winked and lifted his foot from Jack’s chest. “Well, not much we can do, Mr. Rolf Olsson. Treacherous terrain ‘round Sunset Pass.”

Jack jumped to his feet. “I’ve been down there dozens of times.” He rubbed his chest, smiling sweetly at Cain. “It’s a nice hike. That is, if you aren’t scared of falling.”

The sheriff glared at Jack.

“I’ll pay anything you want,” Rolf said.

“No, no. It’s my”—Jack paused and smiled even wider at Cain—“civic duty. Someone has to help folks around here. As it happens, I have a few free days. Besides, a wife is a precious thing. We can’t leave her out there. She may be hurt.”

“I’ll go with you,” Rolf said.

“Mr. Olsson, the north face is pretty tough terrain, if you aren’t used to it. I’ve been down that way a few times. If she’s anywhere around there, I’ll find her.”

“I’m goin’ with you. She’s my wife.”

Jack opened his mouth to protest again. The determination in Rolf’s eyes shut him up. The big man wasn’t about to take no for an answer. Jack was nimble, flexible. Rolf was merely solid brute strength. Hopefully, the bull would give up before he got hurt.

“Just let me get my gear,” Jack said. Satisfaction lit Rolf’s expression.

“Are you sure you’re up to this, Junior? Hate to see you fall off the mountain.” Cain grinned like he’d enjoy that very thing.

“I’ve climbed around the face a couple of times just for the hell of it. And somebody’s got to step up and protect the good folks in Jasper. Don’t you worry yourself, Sheriff. I’ll find her.” Dead or alive, he thought. Most likely, dead.

Jack possessed enough smarts to not say that out loud.

She walks in an Otherworld, not the one of spirits but of dreams. Milena approaches the blue castle with no fear. Not even the looming turreted towers cause her to hesitate, for the
Shuv’hani
stands guard at the entrance.

Milena remembers well the bright eyes of wisdom peering from the wrinkled face of her grandmother; yet the Wise One has shed the skin of old age. The
Shuv’hani
wields all the strength and beauty of a priestess, drenched in youth and power so bright, Milena must shield her eyes.

The
Shuv’hani
stands aside and gestures for Milena to enter. She wishes to stop and hold her grandmother to her, but the Otherworld brightness burns with the heat of a thousand suns.

Entering the castle, she walks into a dim and twisted hallway while unseen crickets chirp away in the dark as she passes. At the end of the tunnel, a room with a blazing chandelier calls her forward. Suddenly, a small, twisted figure lurches past her and into the room, moving so fast Milena barely catches a glimpse of the gnome.

He darts behind a queen with hair of crackling fire, who paints at an easel. She smiles at Milena, beckoning her to come closer. Before Milena reaches the queen, the gnome rushes forward and slams the door shut in her face. Milena reaches for the knob. It is gone, then so, too, the door. Milena turns. She isn’t in a castle at all. She is on the top of a great mountain. The glittering chandelier explodes into a myriad of suns blazing across the sky.

Milena woke with a start in the full heat of the afternoon, still tucked away beneath the rocks where she’d hidden. It was difficult to sleep during the day, but she needed the cover of night for her travel.

Milena’s stomach rumbled. She closed her eyes and returned to contemplating her vision. Dreaming of a castle meant a journey to an unknown place, certainly no great insight. The crickets in the tunnel foretold of happy times found in solitude, and the gnome warned of hidden danger lying in wait.

Despite the burning day, she fell back to sleep, waking when night finally arrived. She followed the sound of water and found a creek. Cool liquid refreshed her as much as the night air. Although dizzy from no food and stumbling from weakness, Milena’s step lightened with the encouragement her dream brought her. She knew she neared Jasper. She moved fast, comforted by her cloak of darkness.

Jasper. Her freedom. Her destiny.

“Hey, Rooolf, your wife purty?” Digger used the big man’s name every chance he got, holding out the vowel so he sounded like a moaning dog.

“None of your damned business,” Rolf replied.

“Well, I need to know what she looks like, ‘case I see her.” Digger shrugged and stretched his hands out over the campfire.

“Dig,” Jack said, “if you see a woman wandering around alone, I’m pretty sure it will be her.”

“Oh, true, thanks for smartin’ me up, Jack,” Digger said. “So, Rolf, how long you been married?”

“None of your damned business.”

“What kinda name is Olsson anyhow? Swedish? Norweedish?”

“None of your damned business.”

Digger sighed. “Rolf? Don’t you never say nothin’ else?” The big man glared.

“All-righty. Guess not.” Digger squinted sideways at Jack, who busily stirred a pot of simmering stew over the flames.

The Swede had hardly spoken a word since they left, except for an occasional grunt or nasty remark. In complete contrast to the sullen bull, Digger wouldn’t shut up. Amazingly, he possessed enough air to climb and talk nonstop.

They’d reached the lower plateau when Jack decided to stop for the night. Digger started whistling. Jack stirred the pot of stew, and sausages with fritters sizzled on a griddle to accompany Digger’s out-of-tune rendition of, well, Jack didn’t actually recognize a melody. Even though Digger couldn’t afford to miss work, he’d insisted on accompanying Jack and Rolf. Considering the huge man’s disposition, Jack was beyond grateful for Digger’s company.

BOOK: Jasper Mountain
5.64Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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