Stepping from the tent, Buck's eyes adjusted to the twilight and he heard a woman's squeal followed by a resounding slap that set him at a labored trot toward the large fire at the end of the tent row.
"You stupid bitch! The irons are still here right where I left 'em!"
The woman sat on the ground, her arms behind her, ready to scrabble away backward if Hawley tried to strike her again. She stared at the hulking man, her eyes large, frightened but at the same time wary.
Hawley had no chance to molest her further when Buck grabbed his arm just as the brute reached for her...his angel. Turning on him Hawley jerked his arm free and glared at the ladies man.
Buck simply stared back and said in a voice deceptively soft, "You hit her again and…" but Hawley cut him off.
"And what, cowboy? Just what're you gonna do you son of a whore?" Hawley challenged and dropped the barrel of a side-by-side shotgun even with Buck's midsection.
Being born in a brothel and to a whore, Buck took no offense at the man's remark. He simply bent and offered his hand to the fallen woman while Hawley, never taking his hard, gray eyes from Buck, continued, "I see you was too stupid to run when she gave you the chance, huh cowboy. Unless you know about the desert at night and figured you're chances are better here. Or maybe you heard the dogs."
"I've been meaning to ask. Just where is here?" Buck's eyes locked with the larger, bulkier man dressed in serviceable but filthy clothing. Didn't he make use of the bath tent or a washtub, Buck wondered, as he looked around for a rock or a tree branch with which to even the odds a little? There was nothing.
Snorting, Hawley kicked the leg irons in the woman's direction and she stooped to retrieve them although touching them was almost too much for her to bear. "Just you never mind. No need to know where ya are if ya ain't gonna be leavin' any time soon."
Hawley jerked his head at the woman and she walked up to Buck and touched his arm momentarily and whispered, "I'm sorry." She then squatted and attached the rusted iron to his booted legs checking them to make sure they were secure.
"Get up, you miserable whore," Hawley growled before she has a chance to stand and he grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled.
Well used to the slovenly man's mistreatment the woman placed her hands on his and used his own strength as leverage to rise up without loosing a single strand of hair. She then went sprawling to the ground again as Buck's fist connected with Hawley's chin and sent the two of them backward.
Trying to press the attack, the shackles impeded his forward movement and Buck stopped before he fell, face first, onto the hard-packed earth.
The big man rose to his feet, the shotgun still in one hand and pulled the woman up roughly with the other. "You wanna protect the little lady?" Hawley spat out venomously, his tongue probing his mouth for cuts. "Well, all right, we got us a real gentleman here, folks." Spreading an arm expansively Hawley included the small band of five wretched beings who'd slunk out of the darkness to watch the three of them in silence.
With sunless white skin and protruding bones, the laborers were encased in torn, filthy rags and had been led from the mine by Hawley's younger brother Ruben at sundown to grab the meager amounts of food and water allowed them before they returned to their tents for a restless, cough laden sleep.
Hawley rubbed his jaw and grabbing the woman moved closer to Buck and shoved her roughly toward him. The ladies' man stopped her momentum and moved her to the side and out of harm's way.
"A worse cook you'll never find and she won't roll back on her heels lessen ya force her." Harley said and spit on the ground before the two of them.
Hearing her gasp and feeling her move closer to him, her body trembling, Buck realized she wasn't afraid of the burly man standing before them shotgun in hand, she was terrified.
"And too stupid to remember a simple thing like shackling a man unless ya beat it into her." The big man took another threatening step toward the two of them and Buck instinctively placed his weakened body between them angering Hawley even more. "You want it instead?" Harley shouted, his anger flaring hotly at Buck's subtle defiance. "Do ya?" He quickly lifted the butt of the coach gun high in the air but Buck held his ground and stood fast until the wood slammed into his jaw with a sickening thud.
Bright stars flashed before Buck's eyes and the shock of the blow coursed through him and he collapsed to the ground on his back, bleeding from the mouth. Groggily he attempting to regain his feet but his arms collapsed under him as the square tip of Harley's boot connected solidly with skin, cartilage and the bones of his rib cage, the blow rolling him onto his back.
Ruben Hawley, as skinny as his brother was fat and with long greasy hair hanging down his back, watched dispassionately from the shadows as the stranger's actions brought repercussions. He didn't care if his brother killed the damned fool or not. The new man would die sooner than later anyway and Ruben would simply wait for the next one to arrive to flesh out the three two-man crews he oversaw. Drifters were a dime a dozen.
Hawley then turned to the woman and pointing a finger at her hissed, "You tell him, he keeps interfering with my business…with us...and I'll keep giving him what you're owed." Spitting again Hawley hoisted the shotgun over his shoulder and warned her, "And if you forget to shackle another one, I'll shoot the bastard on the spot then make you wish I'd a shot you instead."
Quickly dropping to the ground beside him, the woman lifted Buck's head and placed it gently in her lap and wiped away the blood that dripped around his mouth as Hawley walked away calling out over his shoulder, "You make sure he's ready to work in the morning. If he don't pull his weight he's a dead man."
The effects of the laudanum would be long gone by morning and without the pain killer in his system the injuries to his jaw and ribs would make working difficult if not impossible sending Hawley off to town for another hapless victim and Buck Wilmington to a quicker death than had Ruben quite literally worked him to death.
She had to get him to her tent but the others had eaten the tasteless stew she had prepared earlier and had watched, with eyes already dead, the beating of the defenseless man, then drifted off into the darkness. Only Hawley's brother continued to eat in silence as he watched her.
Gently lowering Buck's head to the ground, she scrambled to a half filled water bucket and lugged it back to where he lay. Kneeling again she dipped the hem of the ragged dress she wore into the cold water and bathed his face. Blue eyes opened momentarily only to squeeze shut, the pain fierce in his side and head.
"Please, Mr. Wilmington, you've got to help me," she pleaded and pulled forcefully on his arm.
Deep within his cocoon of pain, Buck heard her and his eyes opened again though they were dulled with pain. A moan escaped his split, bloody lips and with her help he attempted to sit up.
"Please, you can't stay here. If Hawley doesn't shoot you or turn the dogs loose on you, you'll freeze to death. I have a place for you to lie down, blankets and food, but you've got to help me."
Buck knew she was right. The bastard Hawley was mean enough to set the hounds he evidently kept near the ramshackle cabin at the far end of the tent row on him and the temperature would quickly fell below freezing when the sun dipped below the horizon leaving in it's wake a cloudless, star-studded sky: beautiful to look at but deceptively deadly. He just couldn't bear to get up but knew he had to make the effort.
Buck attempted to move and the grinding of his ribs caused him to take short panting breaths and getting to his feet was a monumental task. They heard Hawley's laugh when Buck bellowed in pain and frustration but with her help, and her persistent words of encouragement, he rose up on hands and knees and then finally to a standing position.
"Bath tent," he hissed out as she began to angle him away from it and toward the last tent on the row, "I'll need the linen to bind me."
"I'll get it as soon as you're settled," she assured him and they slowly made their way to her tent.
