He kept his focus on Oscar, sizing him up, studying him. Oscar seemed like the kind of person who would hit someone when they weren’t looking. A dirty fighter. He’d seen—and fought—plenty of them. “Not at all. Just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Apparently, those weren’t the correct words to diffuse the situation. Oscar’s fists tightened, his knuckles turning white, as a smile spread his lips. It wasn’t a pleasant smile, not in the least. Perhaps he was just immature, but Jake didn’t think so. He was a bully, plain and simple. He’d seen others like him his entire life. “If you want to do this, we’ll do it behind the bunkhouse. I don’t want Miss Evie or the children to see this.”
“Afraid she’ll see you for the coward you are?”
Jake shrugged and smiled. The first thing to know about fighting: emotion could make you lose your concentration, and you could end up leaving yourself open for a hit you didn’t want to take. “No, sir. I’m thinking of you. I wouldn’t want you to be embarrassed when I knock you on your ass.”
Oscar spit out a word that would have made Father O’Malley wash his mouth out with soap. That emotion, the one that could make one lose complete control? That was Oscar. Already he could see what his comment had done. The man stiffened, his face reddening, causing his thick black mustache to stand out in stark relief. And his eyes? They were so dark, they appeared almost black. And filled with murderous intent.
Jake gave an exaggerated bow and gestured toward the door. “After you.”
Oscar strutted across the floor, full of confidence. He may have held his own in a barroom brawl a time or two, but he didn’t know he was no match for Jake.
The other men trooped out after Oscar, except for Slick, who waited at the door for him. “Think you can take him?”
Jake said nothing, just looked at Slick as he walked outside and down the two steps from the porch to the dirt.
Slick followed him. “Do me a favor and hit him once for me. I’m tired of him thinking he knows more than anyone else and trying to tell us all what to do.”
“I wouldn’t mind if you hit him once for me, too.” That comment came from Mayhem, accompanied by a wide grin, as he joined them. “He deserves it more than most. Maybe he’ll learn some respect, especially for Miss Evie. Ain’t the first time he talked about her like that.”
Jake still said nothing as he strode behind the bunkhouse, where Oscar waited, arrogant smirk spreading his lips, hands on his hips, surrounded by an air of superiority and just plain meanness. The other men—Cesar, Emilio, even Grub—were there as well, murmuring among themselves, the anticipation palpable. He heard bets being placed on who would win as Slick and Mayhem joined them. Surprisingly, the consensus was evenly split, though one and all were looking forward to a good fight.
“You can still walk away, Oscar,” Jake said, keeping his tone even, offering the man the opportunity to save himself.
“No chance. I’m gonna teach you not to mess with your betters.” He spit out a crude cuss word, then raised his fists, once again protecting his face, and began rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. It was obvious this wasn’t Oscar’s first fight. And probably wouldn’t be his last, not with his attitude.
“Have it your way.” Jake faced his opponent and took his stance, bringing up his fists, focusing all his concentration on his opponent. “Just remember, you asked for this.”
Oscar threw a punch, which Jake neatly side-stepped then threw one of his own. His knuckles slammed into Oscar’s face.
And that was all it took. Oscar went down, blood spurting from his nose.
The other men grumbled with disappointment. Jake was certain they were expecting a no-holds-barred brawl. They hadn’t expected that with one punch, the fight would be over.
“You broke my nose!” Shock and fury filled Oscar’s voice. Apparently, such a thing had never happened before.
Jake lowered his hands and stood over the man. “It’s over.” Though he said the words, he knew it wasn’t true. Oscar, like another man he knew, was not the type to accept defeat. Still, he extended his hand to help the man up. Oscar slapped it away with a sneer, though he accepted the help of others.
“It’ll never be over, Hannigan. Watch your back.”
Though he slowed as he walked away, Jake didn’t stop until he entered the bunkhouse and strode over to his bunk. He picked up the sketchpad from the floor as well as the pages Oscar had ripped from the book. Anger flared, but he tamped it down as he looked at the crinkled and torn drawings. Maybe he could salvage a few.
“I never seen anything like that!” Slick exclaimed as he came to stand beside him. “One hit and the man was down.” He laughed. “Serves him right. He shouldn’t have been touching your things or talkin’ about Miss Evie that way. As if she would have him.”
Jake said nothing, just stared at his ruined drawings. His knuckles were a little sore, but not nearly as sore as his heart.
“I’m sorry he ruined your book. Your sketches are pretty good.” Slick laid a hand on his shoulder awkwardly, obviously trying to offer some comfort. “Come on, let’s head down to the river.”
Whatever enjoyment he might have found at the river disappeared. “You go on without me.” He tossed the sketchbook as well as the pages in the trash can and left the bunkhouse to take care of the horses. He saw the men leave, their clean clothes bundled under their arms, knowing he was the subject of their animated gestures. Oscar brought up the rear by himself, still pressing a handkerchief to his broken nose. He glared, his eyes fairly glowing with hatred. Jake knew exactly what was going through the man’s head. And it wasn’t good. He’d made an enemy of Oscar, as the man didn’t seem to be the type to forgive.
And it didn’t matter. He didn’t care. He wasn’t a violent man, but he’d never backed down from a bully and Oscar definitely had some come-uppance coming to him. Still, he wasn’t happy about the situation as he strode to the corral and grabbed Esteban’s horse by the reins and led him into the barn. He removed the saddle and reins, slipped a halter over his head then picked up the brush and began smoothing it over the horse’s coat, the simple act soothing his soul.
He heard the men come back from the river as he walked Soldier Boy toward the barn, actually felt Oscar’s stare burning a hole into him as they all trooped into the bunkhouse. Antonio showed up a few minutes later with his wooden tray filled with little pay envelopes.
He stayed where he was, not trusting himself to hold back if Oscar should say another word. Next time, he’d do more than just break the man’s nose.
He put Soldier Boy in his stall, gave him some oats, and headed back outside to the corral to brush down Horatio, just in time to see his bunkmates head out. Oscar lagged behind and took his time mounting up, his dark-eyed gleam intense, his mouth drawn into a thin line beneath his mustache. He kicked his horse and rode right up to him, coming so close, Jake could see the sweat on the horse’s face. He stepped out of the way at the last minute, but never took his eyes from the man.
