The Miner's Lady (4 page)

Chantel drew a deep breath. “I have no reason to lie. Perhaps, however, you should consider that it might have been your brother who enticed my sister.” She took a step closer. “After all, she is young and innocent.”

“Ha!” he replied, leaning forward, his face very near to hers. “Innocence is hardly something your family would be familiar with.”

“How dare you?” Chantel rose on tiptoe to better face him. “I offered you an olive branch—peace between us. And instead you choose to insult my family.”

“Miss Panetta, I neither want your olive branches, nor your peace. I am not going to be the one to betray our ancestors.”

“Our ancestors? Must you continue to hide behind them?”

Chantel realized she'd probably gone too far. Dante's face reddened, and he poked his index finger against her shoulder. “I'm not hiding behind anyone, and I'd thank you to remember it. You have a sharp tongue, Miss Panetta, and I'll not remain here to be berated by you regarding what you perceive as right and wrong.”

“Chantel! There you are,” Isabella said, coming from behind her sister. She took hold of Chantel's arm. “Goodness, it looks like you bought out the store.”

“I needed a new coat,” Chantel replied.

Isabella nodded knowingly and relieved her sister of the other purchases. “We need to get this sugar home to Mama.” The sisters exchanged a brief glance, and Isabella smiled and gave a nod. “Mr. Calarco, good day.”

Chantel didn't fight as Isabella pulled her along down the boardwalk. She couldn't resist one backward glance, however. It was a mistake to look. Dante stared back, and for just a moment Chantel feared he might actually come after them.

Dante was dumbfounded by the open way Chantel Panetta baited him. He was further surprised by the fact that he'd fallen for it. No doubt she'd been instructed by her sister to run interference for the young lovers. He kicked at the doorjamb and all but growled when Orlando appeared, looking for all the world as if nothing were amiss.

He held up a small sack. “They had the ointment Nonna wanted. We can go home now.”

Dante grabbed his brother by the lapel of his coat and slammed him up against the wall. “You were meeting her again, weren't you? Don't even think to lie to me,” he continued without giving his brother a chance to answer. “I just spent the last few minutes arguing with her sister.”

Orlando looked at his brother for a moment, then shrugged. Dante wanted to pummel him for his seeming indifference. “Like I told you, this has to stop. If I have to, I'll go to Mr.
Panetta himself. I kind of doubt he knows anything about this romance.”

“You wouldn't dare,” Orlando countered, pulling away from his brother's hold.

“If you don't stop seeing her—and stop all this nonsense about wanting to marry her—I will.” Dante turned for home. “Just see if I don't.”

Marco Panetta punched his brother's arm. “You ready to go?”

Alfredo looked up from the supper table with a nod. “Let me get my hat.”

“You boys shouldn't go to town,” Mama said, clearing dishes from the table. “You know it's no good for you. Save your pay, and don't let those foxes take it from you.”

Marco ignored her pleadings. It was always the same. His mama didn't like that her sons frequented the local saloons and gaming houses. Marco went to her side and kissed her forehead.

“You worry too much, Mama. Alfredo and I just want a little time to play pool and maybe some cards. There's nothing in the Bible that says we can't enjoy the fruit of our labors.”

“Bah! You don't read the Bible enough to know what it says,” Mama retorted. “Better you should stay home and study Scriptures than go off to lose your money in drink and games. If you stay home, I could get Chantel to read to us.”

“I'm not in the mood for a story, Mama.” He could see the worry on her face, but Marco wasn't going to give in.

The two brothers encountered their father on the way out
the front door. He eyed them suspiciously, then gave a shrug. “You boys stay outta trouble,” he commanded. “If the marshal hauls you off to jail, I won't come get you.”

“Pa, we aren't going to cause trouble, and we aren't looking to do anything that would put us behind bars,” Marco replied. He brushed back his oiled brown hair and grinned. “I just want to enjoy myself a little bit. We had a hard week, and a little fun is in order.”

Their father understood this better than their mother, but still he gave his boys a rather reproving look. “Be careful. You know the evils in this town. You know how dangerous it can be.”

Marco and Alfredo nodded. “We will be careful,” Marco replied. “We'll just go see Leo and no one else.”

Leo Fortino owned the Fortune Hole Saloon and Gaming House. It was a favorite among the Italians who enjoyed Fortino's homage to the old country. He employed Italian girls to entertain and dance. There were even painted murals on the walls of the saloon depicting Italian landmarks and scenery.

Marco and Leo had become fairly good friends over the course of time. The two were around the same age, and Leo had a strong interest in Marco's sisters. More than once he'd encouraged Marco to introduce him properly to Chantel and Isabella. Of course, Fortino would never be considered an acceptable suitor for either one. Marco knew his mother wouldn't allow for her daughters to court a saloon owner. Especially one with a reputation like Fortino's. The man and his place were notorious for fights—even killings.

The Fortune Hole was packed to capacity, as was expected on payday. Marco and Alfredo made their way to the bar
where Leo was busy marking figures in a book while the man standing in front of him counted out money onto the bar.

“You sure you wanna put it all in the safe?” Leo asked the man. “You don't wanna spend a little on the tables?” He grinned at the man and rubbed his well-trimmed mustache. “They're paying out tonight.”

The man looked longingly over his shoulder and then back to Leo. “Jes putta the money inna the safe. My wife, she threatened to poison my food if I lost our money at the cards again.”

Leo laughed heartily, and even Marco couldn't help but grin. The threat of an Italian wife was not to be taken lightly; however, such an extreme reckoning was unlikely. The man took a receipt from Leo, gave Marco and Alfredo a nod, and, with one last look at the gaming tables, exited the saloon.

“He'll be back later tonight,” Leo declared. He put the man's money in the safe behind him and turned back to the Panetta brothers. “What can I do for you two?”

“We're here to deposit our earnings, too,” Marco said, putting his money on the bar. “Of course, not all of it.”

Leo smiled. “Of course not. If you're feeling lucky tonight, there's going to be a high-stakes game in the Snake Room. When I finish up here, I'll be dealing.”

Marco glanced toward the door across the room. This exit led to a short hall and several other rooms, one of which was known for its more intense games. Most saloons had a snake room where men could lose their lives as easily as they lost their money. Even so, it was one of Marco's favorite places to spend his time.

“Sounds challenging,” he said, looking back at Leo.

“It should be.”

He counted through Marco's money and wrote a receipt. While many of the immigrants didn't trust the banks to handle their money, they were less guarded with their favorite saloonkeeper. Many of the bar owners kept the miners' wages for them in the house safe. They spent most of their money in the saloon anyway, so it seemed only appropriate.

After seeing to their deposits, Marco and Alfredo made their way around the room. They each ordered beers and flirted with the women who served them. One of the girls named Bianca was a favorite of Marco's.

“You are here for some fun, no?” she asked in thickly accented English.

“I'm here for the best time money can buy,” Marco declared. He nodded toward one of the gaming tables. “You wanna be my lady luck?”

Her dark eyes flashed as her sensuous mouth widened in a smile. “I wanna be whatever you want me to be.”

Marco lost track of Alfredo for a time and concentrated on Bianca and the games at hand. He lost and won several hands of poker, then grew bored and headed to the Snake Room. Bianca clung to his arm possessively.

“We could go to my room,” she whispered low.

“Leo's expecting me,” Marco replied, giving her a wink. “I feel lucky tonight. Maybe I'll win a big fortune, and we can run away together.”

She pouted and moved to stand in front of the closed door to the Snake Room. “You tease me, but you know I adore you. I will run away with you, Marco.”

He nodded, knowing she would run away with anyone
who would take her from this life. He couldn't blame her for trying. “Come on, now. We can't keep Leo waiting.”

Giving up, Bianca opened the door and stepped aside. True to his word, Leo was now dealing cards to several men. Marco recognized some of the players. Most were well into their cups, enjoying the cheap liquor. With a shot of whiskey selling for ten cents and a twelve-ounce schooner of beer for a nickel, it was often said, “There's a whole lot of drunkenness to be had in a dollar.”

Feeling rather sober in light of this new company, Marco tossed Bianca a nickel and told her to fetch him another beer. She gave a playful nip to his earlobe before slinking off across the room and out the door. Marco knew that she would try to entice him to spend the night with her, but he would refuse as he had done in the past. Drinking and gaming was one thing, but he would not grieve his mother by associating with the local soiled doves. After all, a man needed to have his standards.

Leo motioned him to take a seat at the table. Marco moved closer but didn't sit. One of the drunks took a look at his cards. “I'll take one,” he commanded, discarding the same.

The bar owner smiled and dealt a seven of clubs. The drunk moaned and fell back against his chair. “I fold.”

The man at his right shook his head. “Ain't natural you losin' another hand.” His slurred Italian was barely understandable.

“Maybe you boys should call it a night,” Leo said, gathering the cards.

“Not until I win back my money,” the first man declared.

Marco knew the man only by reputation. The boys at the
mine called him
Coscia d'agnello
or Leg of Lamb, because of the Italian revolver he carried. The pistol held that affectionate nickname, and so it seemed natural to carry it over to the only man in their area to own one. However, the man was also known for a temperament that was far more aggressive than any lamb.

“Let's go again,” the man demanded.

“You in this time?” Leo asked Marco.

He considered refusing, then thought better of it. The tension was already palpable, and Marco didn't want to offend Leo by refusing. He took the seat beside Leg of Lamb and pulled some money from his pocket. “I might as well.” Bianca appeared just then with his beer. Marco took a long drink as the woman began to rub the knots in his neck.

“Let's see if lady luck is with you now,” Leo said and began dealing the cards.

The next few hands went peacefully, much to Marco's relief. Lamb won enough back to remain intrigued and said nothing more. Marco didn't do so bad himself, although he couldn't claim quite the victory that Lamb was enjoying. The man bet aggressively as if he had nothing to lose, but when the cards failed him, he pounded the table with his fists. Losing didn't sit well, but with the next hand he recouped his losses and was content once again. It went on and on like this for the next hour.

Marco lost track of how many beers he'd had. His head was spinning and his vision blurred as he studied the cards in his hand. He had a pair of sevens, but little else. Lamb had already raised the stakes, and Marco didn't feel confident enough of his pair to continue. He folded instead and drained the schooner once again.

“You want another?” Bianca asked.

He looked at her, knowing she was still hoping he would pay for her services. Instead, Marco took several coins from his winnings and handed them to her. “I'm done for the night. You were good company, so this is for you.” She smiled, but he could tell she wasn't pleased. Even so, she knew when it was time to leave.

Lamb roared in approval as another hand went his way. Marco started to gather his money, but Leo put out his hand.

“The night's still young. Stick around.”

Marco couldn't suppress a yawn. “I'm done in.”

“Nonsense,” Leo said. “You're doing just fine.”

Marco shrugged and leaned back in the chair. “I guess a few more rounds won't hurt.”

With Lamb's confidence returning, he became more reckless as other players came and went. He also became more boastful and outrageous with his comments. Marco couldn't imagine that Leo would put up with the man for long, but the barkeep said nothing and just continued dealing the cards.

The hours blurred together and Marco found himself wishing he hadn't sent Bianca away. His mouth felt dry—full of cotton stuffing. He would have enjoyed a drink right about now. Especially in light of the game's intensity. Lamb now seemed bent on showing Leo up. He argued and snarled insults when the cards weren't to his liking and sat back in smug satisfaction when things went his way. However, when another losing streak seemed to hit, Lamb began to cheat. At least Marco thought he was. The beer clouded his mind, but it seemed from time to time the man played some sort
of sleight of hand. Even so, Marco couldn't be sure enough to challenge him.

The other players eventually cleared out, leaving Leo, Lamb, and Marco to their game. Alfredo ambled in after a time, and Marco could see that he had grown bored with the place.

“I'm headin' home,” he told Marco.

Without warning, Leo jumped to his feet and pointed at the table. “You shouldn't have laid that ace on the table, Lamb. I don't hold with cheating around here.”

Before Marco realized what was happening, Lamb had drawn his revolver. With drunken hands he waved the pistol at Leo. The barkeep seemed undaunted.

“Alfredo, on your way out I'd appreciate it if you'd get the marshal in here. He needs to arrest this dirty rotten cheat.”

“Nobody's . . . 'restin' me.” Lamb's words were hopelessly slurred. He pointed the gun at Marco for a moment, then seemed to realize Leo was the one he wanted to shoot.

Alfredo hurried from the room, leaving only Marco, Leo, and Lamb in the Snake Room. Marco edged away from the table while Leo shook his head in disgust. “You can't always get your way with a gun.”

Marco wasn't so sure. He took another step back and realized he'd hit the wall. There was nowhere else to go.

“You're the cheat,” Lamb began again. “You . . . you . . . robbed me. I'm a better player than that.”

“You're a stupid drunk,” Leo said, and to Marco's surprise he charged at the man. In one sleek, catlike move, Leo grabbed the weapon and pressed the barrel of the gun under Lamb's neck. When the pistol fired, Marco's hands flew to his chest as if he'd been shot.

“That's that,” Leo said, stepping away from Lamb as his body crumpled to the floor.

Marco didn't know what to say. His head was spinning from the liquor, and his ears were ringing from the close proximity of the gunshot. Leo glanced at the table a moment, then gathered the remains of Lamb's winnings for himself.

When Alfredo and the marshal entered the room moments later, Marco was still staring dumbly at Lamb's motionless body.

“What happened here?” the lawman asked.

“Caught him cheating. Guess he couldn't bear the shame,” Leo said, gathering his chips and cards. “Killed himself.”