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12
With the arrival of February, Diego was congratulated for working at the mine for a whole month.
“Many a man has given up before reaching one month,” Mr. Briggs told him. “We’re promoting you to using a pick. You’ll be one of the men who digs the ore out instead of the one picking it up.”
Mr. Briggs acted like it was some big honor, but Diego only nodded. There wasn’t a job in the mine that he wanted. He was tired of working here, tired of the stench of unbathed bodies, and tired of spending his days working rather than having fun.
He thought about Isabella. Surely by now she’d received her aunt’s jewelry. Even so, they certainly couldn’t sell it here. Albuquerque would probably be too close to get rid of it too. Perhaps if they caught the train back to California, he could check with former friends as to who might sell the jewelry for them.
He remembered the look on Josephina Garcia’s face as she fell to her death. Diego probably could have caught her. He might have stopped her fall. He wasn’t sure that this was true, but the possibility had haunted him since the accident.Even more guilt-inducing was the fact that he’d run away and left her there to bleed to death.
Well, it wasn’t his fault. It was an accident. He hadn’t caused her to die, and if he’d been caught there, someone would have accused him of murder.
The lunch whistle blew, and the men left the mine to gather in a large common area inside the office building. Garcia had set the place up for meetings and for meals, and he furnished food for each shift’s lunches.
Diego grabbed a tray and got in line. The serving women were fast at their job and knew each man. They no longer had to ask if he wanted this or that—they knew. He had to admit he was impressed with their ability to remember that he didn’t like overly spiced food or chicken. It didn’t always merit him something else to eat, but generally it got him a larger portion of something he did like.
Today they were eating beans and tamales. It was a far cry from the beefsteak Diego preferred, and there were none of the delectable French sauces his father’s cook was so good at making.
“Hola, Señor Diego,” a woman at the end of the line said as she put a glass of iced tea on his tray.
“Hello, Aggie.”
She was at least five years his senior but seemed to be sweet on him, though Diego didn’t find her at all appealing. He steadied his tray and turned to find a place where he could sit in peace and eat his lunch.
“Diego! Over here,” Rudy called. He and Jorge had already laid claim to a small table.
Diego made his way to them and plopped down across from Jorge. They already had half their food devoured. A person learned to eat fast in case there were leftovers. It was always first come, first served.
“I’ve got something I want to discuss with you two,” Diego said before taking a long drink of tea. He always felt like he needed to wash away a mouthful of dirt before he could eat.
“What you got in mind?” Rudy asked.
“A way to make a lot of money.”
“Money’s good. You got our attention.” Rudy even stopped eating for a moment. “What do we need to do to get this money?”
“Not much. Just kidnap the boss’s daughter.”
Rudy looked at Diego as if he’d lost his mind. He laughed and turned his attention back to his food. “For a minute I thought you were serious.”
“I am.” Diego ate nearly half his tamale in one bite. These ladies could certainly cook.
Neither man would even look at him, much less speak. Diego chuckled. “I know it sounds bad, but just listen to me and promise to say nothing.”
The men glanced up, barely acknowledging his comment with slight nods.
Diego smiled. “You can’t have known this, but Isabella Garcia and I are engaged to be married. We were very close back in California.”
“If you’re engaged to the boss’s daughter, why are you working in the mine?” Rudy asked.
“It’s an arrangement I made with her father. I want to learn every aspect of the mine because he plans to turn it over to me one day. However, he doesn’t want to give Isabella her inheritance. Her aunt recently died and left her a lot of money, and Mr. Garcia won’t release it.”
“That doesn’t sound like him,” Jorge said, shaking his head. “He’s always very generous.”
“Not with his daughter. Look, I talked to Isabella about this, and she’s all for it.” This got their attention. “She knowsher father would be willing to pay a lot to see her returned safely, and that way she could at least get some of the ransom money, as would I, and of course you two. Since we’d be doing it with her help, there’d be no danger of her getting hurt. And, if worse came to worse, we could just admit it was a farce—that we were just joking around. She’d see that we didn’t have any trouble.”
Rudy grew thoughtful and rubbed his bare chin. “So what would we have to do?”
