From Drew Blood: Stockton had grown up in the east. He had seen the theatres and shows of New York and Boston. He knew a city ha...
From Drew Blood:
Stockton had grown up in the east. He had seen the theatres and shows of New York and Boston.
He knew a city had to offer more than a gold mine and a few drops of booze. That would attract rough, single men, but they were a poor foundation for building a town.\
You needed women. You needed children. You needed something to do.
He knew a city had to offer more than a gold mine and a few drops of booze. That would attract rough, single men, but they were a poor foundation for building a town.\
You needed women. You needed children. You needed something to do.
Livings had two theaters. The Oracle, located on Myrtle Street, was a smaller. less ornate, replica of the great theatres of New York. The Mystic Theatre was Stockton’s own creation. It was designed with the stage in center. You could view the attraction from all four sides, offering better seating and a chance to charge a higher price for entry. Though smaller, the Mystic was already creating a reputation as one of the great venues of the West. Traveling acts, fighters, musicians, and politicians all sought the Mystic as a profitable and impactful place to enhance their reputations and leave with full pockets.
“The original idea was for the tournament to be held at the Mystic. They set up ropes to keep the wrestlers from falling off the stage. Every seat has been sold for the entire week. However, it’s grown to such an extent there will be rings set up all over the town. Father is estimating over one hundred thousand dollars in revenue when it’s all over.”
That was a lot of money. Along with the betting and whatever Stockton was making at his bars and hotels, he was flush with cash. The two hundred dollar bribe was just pocket change. Montana’s father had always preached that promotion was where the money was. But Montana didn’t have the stomach for it. He was a competitor. When you promoted, you bet on other people. Montana always bet on himself.
Montana barely registered what Jess was saying. He was deep in thought about Stockton and the tournament. “Huh, really? Who’s that?” he said in passing.
Jess laughed in spite of herself. “I should have figured you wouldn’t know. She’s a world famous opera singer. She’s been in San Francisco for a few months and is passing this way on her way to Dallas. It’s a big event.”
“Congratulations,” said Montana who was still processing how to work the tournament and stay out of sight.
“Would you like to attend with me?”
Montana stopped and his mind went blank. It took a few seconds to gather his thoughts. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I hear your father don’t like you in the company of men.”
Jess nodded, but seemed unconcerned. “I worked hard putting together this tournament. When I was contacting various wrestlers, I had a chance to speak with someone who represented Marie Wilkes. I arranged for her to come and perform prior to the tournament. Sort of a gift to myself.”
Montana had never heard a woman speak like this. Sam, Stockton and Jess were three of the strongest personalities he had ever met. It was no wonder Livings was growing at such a rate.
Montana knew that being seen with Jess was not a risk he needed to take. It would be an error in judgment and put him at a disadvantage. He needed to stay out of everyone’s way. Just be visible at the tournament.
“I would love to go,” he found himself saying. He felt so foolish.
Jess smiled deeply. “Wonderful. I’ll be ready at eight. I will meet you here.”
“I’ve got nothing to wear, Jess. I’ll look like a fool.”
Jess smiled and winked. “It’s taken care of, Montana Smith.” With that she closed the bottle and left the two glasses on the table. “I’ll take this back to Martha. See you this evening.” She stood and walked out of the room without another word. Montana drank both glasses down and went to his bed to lie down.
A knock at the door jerked him awake. He had fallen asleep, but he wasn’t sure how long. It still looked to be mid-afternoon. “Who is it?”
“My name is Mills, sir. I have your clothes.”
“My clothes?” Montana was confused for a moment and then remembered. “Alright. Just a second.” He opened the door and there stood a small man with a tape measure around his neck and a pair of pants and a shirt neatly folded in his arms.
“I was told by Miss Jess Stockton to ensure these fit before I left, sir.” Montana shook his head and took the clothes from Mills. As expected, they fit perfectly.
“They fit well, sir.” Mills bowed his head a little and put his finger to his mouth for a moment as he ensured one last time everything was as it should be. “Enjoy your evening.” Mills turned and left Montana standing there in his new clothes. Montana’s stomach growled. He was hoping lunch was still ready and he had not slept passed. He put back on his previous clothes and headed down the stairs. Susie was in her usual place, cleaning glasses behind the bar.
“Did you bring those two glasses down with you, Montana?” she asked as he came down the stairs. Montana turned to go back up to retrieve them.
“Don’t worry about it. Get’em later. I suppose you’re ready for lunch?”
“Yes ma’am. How’s the afternoon?” he asked.
Susie looked up at him. “I suppose just about every wrestler from that tournament has been by here. Some asked for you directly. Some just snooped around. Only a couple of them bought a drink.”
“What did they want?”
Susie shrugged. “I guess to get a look at the winner.”
Montana laughed. “No one here seems to like surprises.” A creature of habit, Montana went over to the same table he had been sitting over the past day. No sooner had he sat then Martha, with her window shattered grin, was making her way over with a plate of beans and slices of pork. Susie brought over a glass of beer and proceeded to stare at Montana.
“You want to know why Jess was in my room?” Montana was growing wise to the busy-bodied ways of Livings, and in particular Susie L’More.
“I do. I am giving you free room and board. So far. I don’t need you gettin’ killed before I get what I want.”
“We’re going to the Oracle tonight to hear some lady sing.”
“Whose idea was that?” Susie demanded.
“Hers.”
Susie sat down. “Montana, you need to be careful.”
“I don’t get the feelin’ that Jess Stockton is out to get me, Susie.”
“I don’t either. But, I know women. She’s taken with you. And Jess ain’t a woman who gets taken with anyone. I don’t think I seen but one or two even court her before she ran ‘em off. But you’re an unknown in this tournament. And her father’s already starin’ at you hard, Montana. This ain’t a good move. Not if you’re serious about winning.”
Montana put his fork down. “I know. You’re right, Susie. I already thought about this.”
“And?”
“I’m still goin’.” Montana went back to eating, but gave a slight grin as he heard Susie groan out her exasperation.
“Young love, it don’t pay for hotels. Remember that, kid.” She stood up. “Or meals and beer.”
Montana nodded. “Jess could probably spot me, don’t you think?” he winked. Susie stomped off back behind the bar.
But, she wasn’t wrong. Montana knew he was about to kick the hornets’ nest. But, he didn’t care. And he was surprised he didn’t care. He felt something around Jess that was different. She didn’t need protection. She faced the world the same way he did. She pushed, made her own rules and followed through. He didn’t see Jess as a smitten little girl. She was an equal who wanted to share experiences with him. Or, at least, wanted him to listen to opera with her.
He finished eating and his beer and went outside to sit on the porch. It was still hot, but there was a steady breeze. The porch of the Red Bird had a small group of chairs off to the left of the door. He walked over and sat down in one and enjoyed the breeze when it reached him. He nodded and tipped his hat as people walked by. People seemed intent on looking at him. Some returned his greetings, others quickly moved on. There was a group of old men on the porch at the barber shop across the street. They nodded and then looked at each other and began talking. One of them made a small gesture toward Montana. Montana sucked his teeth and looked around some more. He was relaxed after his training, nap and meal. He wasn’t anxious to walk around too much prior to meeting Jess.
There was a lot of bustling from a crowd following a great giant of a man. He had a booming voice and an eastern accent. People were asking him questions and he seemed to be telling tales of great victories. But Montana noticed one thing. The giant man was telling his tales and looking straight at him. Montana decided to meet his gaze. The giant walked closer until he was just a few feet from the porch. Even from the ground, he met Montana’s gaze straight away while Montana sat in the chair. He wore old denim overalls and was, to Montana’s great surprise, barefoot.
“Yer Dalton Smith’s son, yes? The Kansas Kid, or somethin’?”
“Montana Smith. Yes, Dalton was my father.”
“I like Kansas better. You from Montana?”
“Does it matter?”
The giant laughed a great loud guffaw. “No, I s’ppose not. Yer father was a dangerous wrestler. Did he learn ya’ all his dirty tricks?”
The giant was trying to get a rise out of Montana. His father was a great wrestler, but one of his weaknesses was that he did not resort to dirty tricks. If this giant was familiar with him, he would have known that.
“He taught me all of them. And I’ve picked up a few more along the way.”
Again, a great bellowing laugh. “Good, you’ll need ‘em, boy.” The giant spit a giant slug of tobacco juice just in front of Montana’s boot. He left a dribble in his dark beard. He had a stench that seemed to come from an animal. “See ya tomorrow. I hope ya ain’t my first victory.”
Montana tipped his hat and kept his outward calm. “It’ll be an honor if I am, Mr. Casteen.”
“Ya’ heard of me?” Man Mountain asked, looking around at the crowd to see if they were impressed.
“Lucky guess,” replied Montana. Some in the crowed chuckled.
“I hope yer luck continues, Montana,” said the great giant and turned and began to address the crowd regarding other past victories. Something about young men and their dreams and how they met a hard reality against Man Mountain Casteen. Montana saw that Casteen was smart. He was taking people around, getting them interested. The side betting could be huge. Man Moutain was helping everyone by being such a spectacle. Besides, where else can you see a seven foot tall, four hundred pound giant? The odds were surely stacked against Montana. He wasn’t so sure if he shouldn’t bet on Casteen as well. He had heard of his size, but the rumors did him no justice. It was hard to imagine a human being could be that size. And if his size didn’t stop you, his smell certainly would.
Man Mountain Casteen also made a mistake. He walked around and Montana could see how he moved. Or rather, how he struggled to move. He concluded that Casteen was all bulk and strength. If you could figure out a way to get him off his feet, it would be the end. Montana had stayed in his chair to avoid the opportunity for Casteen to size him up. But as easy as it sounded, Man Mountain Casteen was virtually undefeated. He had figured out a way to stay on his feet despite hundreds of opponents trying the opposite. Montana needed to figure out how a man that big managed to stay upright. If he could, he could develop a counter.
As Montana figured on a strategy, Jack approached him with an anxious manner. Montana looked over at him and cocked an eyebrow.
“Hey, Montana, what’cha doin’?”
“Thinkin’,” replied Montana, still waiting for Jack to ask the inevitable question.
“Hey, I was thinkin’ too. You got somebody helpin’ you between rounds? Like for water or cuts or somethin’?”
“I was gonna ask Susie,” Montana said. Jack looked dejected at that. It took the wind out of him. “But if she’ll show you how to patch up a cut and a few things, I guess I could do with you.”
Montana grinned at Jack’s sudden elation. “Go ask her to get you ready.” Jack ran back inside, screaming his instructions to Susie who quickly got him quiet.
Sam Arkin walked up to the porch and sat down on the top step just in front of Montana. It was a steady stream of personalities since Montana stepped off the train. “You gonna go with Jess tonight?”
“Yeah.”
Sam knocked a few pebbles and some sand from the top step and then rubbed his hands. “What have you figured out so far?”
“That won’t no one leave me alone.”
Sam laughed and finally turned to look at Montana. “No, we won’t. But now you done brought it down on yourself. You could’ve just holed up here at the Red Bird throughout the tournament. But now you’ve decided to rub it in.”
“Rub what in?”
“Jess’s anger at Stockton, I suppose. I guess she’s fed up with him and now she’s gonna take you out in public. Make a spectacle of her rebellion.”
Montana let out a short breath. He didn’t think that Jess might have just been using him. And he was angry at himself for being so foolish. He had to be smarter and didn’t want to get taken by anyone, let alone a beautiful woman.
Sam was looking at him. “Don’t worry, kid. She likes you. She ain’t gonna risk everything on just some fella’. Heck, there are hundreds of ‘em strolling through this town right now. She sees something in you, I guess.”
“Sure she does. A way to get back at her father.”
“Well, you can’t fault her for that, now. They don’t see eye to eye on much. Besides, it’s a big risk for her. If you don’t win that tournament, she’s gonna be humiliated and her father will have the last laugh. So, like I said, she must see somethin’ in you that makes her want to take a chance.”
Montana knew Sam had a point. He didn’t understand why Sam would be bothering to come over and discuss it with him. “Well, Sam, I guess Stockton will make sure you see to it I don’t win.”
Sam smiled and nodded and swept some more sand and pebbles off the porch with his hand. “I do have Stockton’s utmost confidence.” He looked back up at Montana. “Henry Stockton doesn’t like to gamble.”
///
Supper was uneventful. Susie chastised Montana for allowing Jack to act as his second. Nonetheless, she did show him basic wound dressing and care for cuts. She even made him a small box with cotton gauze and some ointments. And of course, Susie obliged Montana with another warning about being seen with Jess Stockton.
Jack poured Montana another bath. His second in as many days was a first for Montana. He didn’t feel it was even necessary, but it did help relax him and gave him some kind of buffer against the endless intrusions. Even Susie allowed him a respite while he bathed. He took full advantage and remained in the bath until well after the water cooled.
The clothes fit well and it felt good to wear them. Montana seldom bought new clothes, only as something became too worn to even stay on. His boots were still ragged and worn. He sent Jack to find some oil to rub into his boots to take some of the scuffs and dirt out. It helped a little. The new outfit even included a dark brown leather vest that felt smooth and looked sharp. The clothes were so nice that Montana was sure he’d never wear them again.
He felt around at his face and regretted that he didn’t spend a portion of his afternoon across the street getting a shave. He laughed at the thought of Stockton paying off the barber to cut his throat. He might be cutting his own throat tonight. There was a soft tap at the door.
“Hey, Montana,” it was Jack. He was whispering. “Jess is here. She’s downstairs at that table you been sittin’ at.”
“Thanks, Jack. I’m on my way down.” Montana looked around and felt his pockets to make sure he wasn’t missing anything. He opened the door to head down and saw Jack still standing there. He was grinning at Montana. Montana shook his head and walked down the stairs. He peaked over the railing to view the table below. He was taken aback. Jess’s hair was dark and curly and draped over her shoulders, which were bare. She wore a velvet shawl and a cream and red dress. He came down the stairs and turned toward the table and saw her sitting, cross legged with matching cream gloves. He stared for a long moment and truly thought he had never seen a more beautiful woman. He could hear Susie mutter something along those lines, but he didn’t quite catch what she said.
“You clean up nice,” Jess said. “The clothes fit, I take it?”
Montana managed a nod. “You look nice, too.” It was all he could get out. Jess smiled and nodded her acceptance of his attempt at a compliment. Montana felt his cheeks flush a little and hesitated a moment to regain his bearings. He was not used to being off balance.
“Are you ready?” Jess asked. Montana nodded. Montana took a quick survey of the room. People appeared occupied with their drinks, but everyone was taking stock of Jess and him. Jess stood and Montana made a motion to allow her to walk in front. He wanted to move out the Red Bird quickly. He reached from behind Jess to hold open the swinging door, but she was already through it. He muttered his frustration at his lack of attention. Jess stopped and waited for him on the porch.
“Surely you won’t walk behind me the whole way?” she said with a smile. Montana apologized.
“I ain’t used to all this,” he stated, making several gestures to his clothes and finally, to Jess. “I ain’t sure what to make of it.”
“I’m not sure what to make of it, either. But I’m not concerned with that right now. I want to go to the concert.” With that, Jess took Montana’s arm and the two of them walked down the porch steps and into the street.
The breeze was cool again and the air smelled dry. No hint of rain. People passed by and most acknowledged Jess and looked confusingly at the pair, arm in arm. Jess nodded and responded to each passerby, knowing everyone by name. This was impressive and Montana understood why the people in town respected her. She seemed to value each encounter.
“You know everyone in town?”
“I suppose if they’ve been here long enough, I ought to. I make it a point. It’s easier to get some of the more unpleasant business with people you know.”
Montana stiffened. “What sort of unpleasant business?”
Jess sighed. “Do we really need to go through this now? I just want-“
“Jess, I need to know what’s coming at me. What did I get into?”
Jess stopped and let go of Montana’s arm. She looked at him. “You’re right. Because there is a high chance things are going to get tough for you. My father owns the town. That’s no secret. People pay him for rent, for licenses, for protection, for justice, for revenge, for whatever it is they need. They pay him and he provides. And if they can’t pay, well, they usually don’t get what they need.”
“I figured most of that. And I ain’t necessarily got a problem with it. I ain’t been to too many places that don’t operate a similar way.”
“The problem is, Livings is truly booming. Everything my father envisioned is happening. However, there are a lot of families and people without means. They can’t pay. And father expects them too. He has no empathy. And many of the people who do pay, don’t feel they’re getting their money’s worth. The miners we hire are useless and crude. I do my best to keep people happy, but there’s a lot of tension below the surface.”
“Why don’t you leave?”
Jess smiled and shrugged. “I know I am helping people somewhat. I’d feel a lot of guilt leaving if I didn’t feel they were safe. Besides, I’ve no one to leave with.” She spoke the last sentence softly. Montana put his hand on her shoulder and stared at her for a minute. He knew what he wanted to say, but didn’t. Instead, he took her arm again and continued toward the Oracle.
Jess decided to change the subject. “When Henry was a boy, he grew up without a family back east. He used to be fascinated with theaters and opera houses. He would try to find work, cleaning floors, maintaining costumes. If he couldn’t, he would just sneak in. The Oracle was the first theater he built in Livings. It was very nearly the first building. He wanted to make it just like he remembered. I’ve never been east, but I can’t imagine a nicer theater anywhere. He just claims it’s smaller.”
“You called him Henry.”
“That is his name, Montana.”
Montana laughed. “I know. I don’t know what to say. I ain’t been in any of these fancy places. I fear I don’t have much to offer in the way of opinion.”
Jess smiled and gently pushed against him with her shoulder. “Good. I didn’t want a bunch of stuffy opinions. I want this to be something new for you.”
“Well, be careful what you ask for,” Montana joked. “I may just love it and then I’ll be full of stuffy opinions.” They both laughed as they walked up to the entrance of the theater.
The Oracle was an ornate building. There was a line of people. They were mingling and slowly making their way inside. Each had a small invitation in a fancy script that was collected at the door by a man in a fine red waistcoat. Everything seemed either red or gold. People greeted Jess and Montana, each inspecting the couple with polite suspicion. Montana noted several wrestlers in attendance, including Brooks Haver, Jr, whom Doc Wilson had spoken of. His nose slightly crooked, he stood next to Henry Stockton at the foot of the theater entrance, acting as some sort of guard as Stockton greeted and shook hands with each patron as they entered. Haver’s eyes and ire immediately went up as Jess and Montana were next in the receiving line.
Henry Stockton stared cold, but smiled and had a pleasant tone. “Ah, Jess. You have a companion tonight. Mr. Smith, good evening.”
Montana nodded but cut a look at Haver. “Evening sir. This is a fine theater.”
“Well, thank you. I wouldn’t imagine you have seen many like it out here. Is this your first time in a formal theater?”
“I suppose.”
“Excellent. Say, Montana. Have you met Brooks Haver, Jr?” Stockton motioned toward Haver with a mischievous smile. “His father is the founder of Haverville, a mining camp north of here. He’ll be in the tournament tomorrow.”
Montana understood the game. He resisted the urge to boast about Haver’s crooked nose, but remembered why he was there- money. “No sir, I’ve no recollection. Pleased to meet you, Brooks.” He offered his hand, but Brooks did not return his shake.
“You’ll have to excuse Mr. Haver. He’s on duty tonight and is very focused.”
Well, I’m sure we’ll shake at the tournament,” Montana replied.
“Indeed. Since it begins tomorrow, I’m surprised you’re taking in the concert. Seems you would need to rest up.”
“Well, I thought about it. But, now I think I’ll do just fine staying up a little later.” Montana knew this would needle both Haver and Stockton. No doubt Stockton was counting on Haver exacting some measure of revenge and taking Smith out of the tournament- rules or no rules. Haver bristled and moved toward Montana as if he were coming in for a challenge.
“Calm down, Mr. Haver. Try to breathe. You’ll have your chance,” Montana mocked. You could hear Haver whistle through his broken nose as his breath quickened. “Evening, Mr. Stockton.”
Stockton nodded. “Jess, before you retire for the night, I’d like to speak with you.”
Jess nodded. “That will be fine.” She and Montana continued into the theater. An usher showed them to their seats, toward the back of the house. Inside, there were red curtains and velvet seats. Two box seats were slightly elevated on each side of the theater. The proscenium wasn’t very large, but was made of oak instead of pine. It barely protruded past the draped red curtain.
“Well, Montana Smith, you certainly know how to get under a man’s skin,” Jess stated as she settled into her seat, adjusting her dress and gloves.
“It’s just part of it. If you can intimidate a man, you’ve got him half beat. But, I don’t need to intimidate Haver. He ain’t no problem.”
“Then why did you bother?” Jess asked.
“I wasn’t intimidatin’ Haver. He knows what’s comin’. I was intimidatin’ your father. No doubt, he’s got designs on Haver getting’ somethin’ over on me and I let him know he’s welcome to try.”
“Men,” Jess stated with a mix of disgust and humor. They spent the next while talking about growing up and places they lived. The lantern lights then were dimmed and the curtains opened. The small orchestra began to play and out came Marie Wilkes, the famous singer.
Montana had never heard music- or a voice- like this. He was familiar with the popular and traditional songs sung in saloons and always enjoyed listening. He sensed his was in over his head, but was enjoying the experience. What he most enjoyed was Jess, as she, with each song, gripped his arm and hand tighter and placed her head on his shoulder.
The concert concluded and the audience stood in applause. Montana stood and applauded genuinely. He had a respect for the singer’s gifts and envied her. He also felt kinship- public displays of their physical skills for money. She, however, lived a much less hard scrabble life and wasn’t looking over her shoulder for a double cross. Or was she? Surely every endeavor has its own treacheries to deal with.
Jess tugged on Montana’s sleeve and motioned for him to follow her toward the back of the theater. He cocked an eyebrow questioningly.
“Come with me. We’re going to go backstage and meet with Marie.” Jess led Montana through the audience and toward a small door to the left side of the stage. She knocked and announced herself and someone on the other side told her to come in. The two entered into a small hallway with a side room where sat Marie Wilkes. She appeared to have a wet towel, dabbing sweat off her forehead. Her makeup was slightly runny and she barely spoke above a whisper.
“Miss Wilkes? Hello, again.” Jess gave a slight curtsey and shook Marie Wilkes’s hand.
Marie Wilkes smiled and introduced writer Reid Reilly, who was doing a piece on the concert and the growing attraction of Livings. After introductions and compliments regarding performance, he addressed Montana.
“Good to see you again, Montana. Did you enjoy the concert?
“Yes, sir.”
Reid addressed Miss Wilkes. “Montana is a young wrestler out to make a name for himself in the tournament. He has been most helpful,” pointing to his broken arm, “since arriving in town.”
Miss Wilkes smiled at Montana. “Ah, very good. We heard about this tournament in San Francisco. Several local men stated their intentions to participate, but ultimately, none did. Some legendary men are participating.”
“Yes, ma’am. From all over,” replied Montana.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve never heard of you, Montana. I’m aware of most of the wrestlers. I spent several years in shows that combined a variety of entertainments. How is it that you decided to enter? Surely this isn’t simply a case of youthful arrogance?”
Montana smiled and shook his head. “No ma’am. It’s the family business.”
“Ah, very good. Your father?” Montana nodded. “Who was your father?”
“Dalton Smith,” stated a voice from behind Montana. Montana turned quickly and saw Henry Stockton standing there. This time he was alone. “His father was Dalton Smith, a legendary wrestler from the Oregon territory. Supremely tough and supremely crafty, as they say. Good evening, Marie. Good evening, Mr. Reilly. Wonderful performance tonight, Marie. I hope the review reflects that.”
“Indeed,” replied Reid.
Montana was staring a hole into Henry Stockton. “Good evening, sir.”
“Ah, Henry. Good to see you again. Thank you again for the lovely accommodations and hospitality,” said William.
Henry nodded and motioned to Jess. “You can thank Jess. She has seen to every detail.”
“Ah yes. Well, thank you Miss Stockton. This has been a truly pleasant experience and visit.”
“You are certainly welcome. We have been honored to have you in Livings,” Jess replied.
Stockton appeared less interested in courtesies and more interested in goading Montana. “It appears Montana’s father had quite the reputation, that, unfortunately, has been passed down to his son.”
“Unfortunate for others”, muttered Montana.
“Yes, indeed. Perhaps. It should be interesting, nonetheless. Jess, if you don’t mind, I need to speak with you regarding the tournament tomorrow. Privately, please.”
Jess consented to Stockton. Reid remained with Marie Wilkes and continued his interview. Montana was rankled. His evening was being intentionally cut short and Stockton knew far too much about him. He muttered his good-byes and left the backstage and walked through the mostly empty theater. There were still some orchestra members standing around talking to one another and an usher cleaning. Montana continued out, through the small lobby, and into the street.
The night was black and there was no moon. The desert autumn breeze blew and Montana shrugged and took a quick deep breath to both enjoy the night and slightly brace against it. He moved down the steps and out into the street and made his way toward the Red Bird, but it was a bit of a walk across town. He considered briefly about dropping in on Isaiah and the old man. Before he went much further in that direction, he heard the soft clanking of spurs and boot heels on hard dirt.
He turned and noticed a gang of five men. They looked to be miners, as only 2 wore a hat. Montana made out the figure in the middle.
“Evening, Smith. Kid Smith, ain’t it?” It was Brooks Haver, Jr. He stepped forward. He grin was only visible from the lantern light of the buildings to each side of the street. “I ran into a Kid Smith ‘bout a year ago. I got a little score to settle with ‘im.”
“Well, cuddle on up to Stockton and we can settle tomorrow, Brooks. I’m not interested in doing it for free right now.”
“Who said it’s for free?” Brooks laughed. “I don’t do nothin’ for free.”
Montana understood. Stockton took Jess so Haver and his men could get him alone. “So, what’s this for Stockton? Does he want me out of the tournament or away from his daughter?”
Haver and the men laughed. “Who said it can’t be both?” goaded one of the miners. Montana didn’t wait. He figured Haver was the toughest of the bunch and knew his weak point- because he gave it to him. Montana landed a lightning punch straight to Haver’s nose and then backed away, in a crouched wrestler’s position, attempting to fend off the attacks of the others.
Two of the miners came at him at the same time. They were almost lock step with each other and each came at him with fists balled, so they weren’t looking to grab. Montana, in a low position, took advantage of the two pairs of legs being so close. He was able to wrap his arms around both legs and use his shoulder to press into the shins, sending the men tumbling to their backs. Montana stayed low and used the same trick on the next man, tilting sideways to that he fell atop the other two as they tried to make it to their feet. But, the numbers were too many.
A punch to the back of the head dazed Montana and he found himself being brought to his feet with an arm around his throat throttling his Adam’s apple and cutting off his air. A man was behind him, with the rear choke. Montana was about to maneuver away from the hold, but a barrage of fists from the other four men overtook him. With the choke and the hits, he didn’t have long to maintain consciousness. He began to see light spots and then a punch across the jaw put him out.
He came to, dazed and coughing, rather quickly. He was lying on the ground coughing and coming to. The choke had been let go, but he could still hear a struggle and men grunting around him. He took a moment to focus and saw the outline of two men, side by side, punching and throwing the attackers. One man was face down in front of Montana, also dazed and recovering. It was Brooks Haver, Jr.
The miners regrouped but decided not to reengage. The four of them limped off, holding their jaws and arms and whatever else was damaged in the fray. The two men standing turned and walked over to Montana as he made his way to his feet. It was Sam and Isaiah.
“You alright, kid?”
“Yeah, I’m alright.” He looked at the two men as he dusted off his hat and then rubbed the back of his head. “Thanks, fellas.”
“I was watching from outside my room. I knew it was trouble for you,” said Isaiah.
Montana slapped Isaiah on the shoulder. “I’m obliged to you again. I’m grateful.” Isaiah nodded in return. Sam had walked over to Brooks, who was still face down on the street.
“You get paid for all this, or is this just your way of settlin’ a score?”
Brooks spit on the ground. “Ain’t none of yer business, Sam.”
“I told you don’t be messin’ with no one before tomorrow. So why did you get it in your head, tonight?”
Brooks laughed and was now up to all fours. He looked up at Sam. “I don’t answer to you, Arkin.”
With that, Sam slammed his knee into the back of Haver’s neck and took him back down flat. With the same motion, he brought Brooks’s arm up behind him and gave a violent wrench that made Haver cry out. Montana and Isaiah could hear the ligaments tear.
“You tell Henry that you got this from Montana. Or you’ll be seein’ me again later.” Sam stood up and Haver rolled around on the street, clutching his arm. Isaiah went over, leaned down, and grabbed Haver by the collar. He lifted him to his feet with one arm and sent him on his way, clutching his arm and unable to walk straight. Haver became ill after a few steps, but kept going after he finished.
“You got Stockton more worried now. At first, he didn’t want you messin’ up the tournament. Now, he don’t want you runnin’ off with Jess.”
“I don’t see why he cares. He don’t treat her like a father.”
Sam laughed. “Well, it’s all about control, son. You ain’t learned this, yet?”
“Why do you keep bailin’ me out of trouble, Sam?”
Sam looked at Montana. “I told you, son. It’s a courtesy I owe.”
