“Teddy.”
“You heading into town with the boys?”
“No, sir. Not this time.”
Teddy looked at him as if trying to read his thoughts but failed. That look was in his eyes though and there was no mistaking it. The warning was clear. Stay away from Evie. It hadn’t changed since that night he found them in the barn. He was thankful Teddy knew nothing about their kiss or he doubted he would still be upright and his nose not broken.
After a few moments of intense scrutiny, Teddy tipped his hat back. “Hitch up the carriage when you have a minute.”
“Of course.”
“Hey, Jake.” Heath gave him a big smile. “Give ol’ Goldie extra oats tonight. He had a rough day.” He patted his horse’s side before giving him the reins.
“Will do.”
Esteban handed him his horse’s reins as well. “Don’t bother removing his saddle. Catalina and I will be heading back out again, but if you could saddle up Horatio, I’d appreciate it.”
Surprised the man uttered more words than Jake had heard before, he smiled. “Of course.”
Esteban gave him a quick nod, his quota of words apparently spent, then headed toward the house, following after his brothers.
Jake took care of the horses, putting them in the corral to cool down before he brushed them, then saddled Horatio. When he was done, he headed toward the building behind the barn where the fancy carriage was housed. He wiped it down with a cloth, swiping at the seats to make sure no spiders or other critters were hiding among the cracks then hitched up the draft horses. He guided the horses to where the flagstone ended and the barnyard began, unsure if he should bring them to the front of the house or not. He hadn’t been instructed.
Dusting his hands off on his trousers, he headed back to the corral. The horses he put in there should be cool enough to brush down. He didn’t make it very far as the sound of laughter and crude jokes drifted toward him. In a moment, he saw his bunkmates troop back to the bunkhouse, all ‘spit shined and polished,’ as Cesar called it, hair still wet, slicked back, faces clear of the dust and dirt they seemed to wear as part of their everyday attire. His bunkmates weren’t normally the cleanest bunch of men. Aside from splashing cold water on their faces in the morning to help them wake up, hygiene didn’t seem to be high on their list of priorities, though Grub made them wash their hands before they were allowed to sit at the supper table, which Jake found amusing.
He knew they sometimes looked at him strangely because he was the opposite, washing up as best he could from the barrel outside the bunkhouse every night. He may not be living in the lap of luxury like he had at one time, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be clean. Nor did it mean his clothes couldn’t be clean, either, and he rinsed his socks and undergarments every nightand hung them out to dry on the fence behind the barn, which made his bunkmates laugh.
Apparently, that was something that never came to their minds. Laundry was done once a week, on Wednesday, but the men handed over their clothing to Ana begrudgingly when she came to collect them. Even Oscar, who spent a great deal of time combing and waxing his mustache, which was rather impressive, didn’t extend the practice to the rest of himself.
Antonio sidled up beside him, carrying a small wooden tray with raised sides. “Come on inside, Jake. It’s payday and you earned every penny.” He picked out one of the envelopes and shook it, making the coins inside slide back and forth. “I had my doubts when we first met, but you’ve done well.”
The unexpected compliment pleased him, and he followed the man into the bunkhouse. The other men were already lined up at the table, waiting for their pay, the atmosphere full of expectation. Antonio pulled out a chair, made himself comfortable, picked up an envelope and called out the first name. His name was called last, and he wondered if the big man had done that on purpose.
“Here ya go, Jake.”
Jake ripped open the little envelope and glanced inside. Crisp new bills and several shiny coins met his eyes. “Thank you.”
“Don’t spend it all in one place.” Antonio picked up his empty box, then addressed the rest of the men. “Have fun tonight,amigos, but not too much fun. I don’t want to see any broken bones or busted heads tomorrow morning. And I’m not bailing any of you out of jail either. Just keep that in mind.” He left amid crude comments, though they were said in jest, followed by Cesar, Emilio, Mayhem, and Oscar. Even Grub, apparently, intended to join his bunkmates for a night on the town.
“You’re not heading into town with us?” Slick asked, as he stepped up beside him, his own envelope in hand.
Jake shook his head. “No, I promised Antonio I would finish cleaning up the tack room.” It wasn’t the truth. There would be gambling at the saloon, he was sure of it, and he might not be able to resist. He hadn’t touched a playing card since he left San Francisco. He hadn’t broken his promise to Father O’Malley, but he didn’t want to tempt fate. “Is there a post office in town?”
“Sure is. Miss Gemma at Goldwater’s handles the mail.”
“Would you drop off a letter for me?”
“I can do that.”
“I’ll have it ready for you before you leave.”
“That’s fine, but ya better hurry.” Slick grinned as he removed his pay from the envelope and stuffed everything in his pocket. He didn’t even count it. “I got me a pretty little miss at the Silver Spur. Don’t wanna keep her waitin’.” He tipped his hat and walked outside, leaving the door wide open.
Jake retrieved the letter he’d been writing to Father O’Malley from his trunk as soon as Slick exited the bunkhouse. He finished it quickly, folded it around several of the new crisp bills he’d been given and stuck it in an envelope. He wrote out the address that had been part of his life for as long as he could remember, included a return address in the upper corner, and headed outside. All the men were on their horses, anxious to be off for a night of carousing and gambling and whatever other entertainment there was to be found. He handed the envelope to Slick along with a few coins to pay for postage.
The man glanced at the envelope, then looked at him, his eyes widening with surprise. “Father Ryan O’Malley?”
“An old family friend,” he said, not wishing to share any more than that.
