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TITUS PUT THE PICK down and lifted the shovel. It was warm under the butte where he’d been digging. He could feel the sweat running down his back and sides, but had given up wiping it away ages ago.
Behind him his discarded shirt danced lazily on a jute bush in the afternoon breeze that didn’t quite reach him.
Carefully he loaded a bucket with some of the ore he’d cut from the hill. Some chunks were spattered with silver, while others were covered with fine spider web threads.
He smiled as he dumped the ore in the pile Jed had been working earlier. If this didn’t set the old man up nothing would.
Stopping his work, he looked along the path toward the spring, wondering where the old prospector could be. It wasn’t like him to leave Titus to do the work alone.
Over the past few weeks they’d honed their work skills; Titus would do the heaviest digging and Jed would separate out the best ore, chipping it down to its most marketable essence.
“Jed?” Titus called, wondering if the old man had decided to take a nap in a shady spot.
Hearing nothing he turned back to the cut in the dark brown rock, hefted the pick and began to chip away at a future.
***
“WELL LOOKY WHAT WE got here boys?” a dark heavily bearded man drawled. “Looks like we found that ol’ prospector that hit that sweet seam.”
Two other men laughed circling around Jed.
“You ruffians just skedattle now,” Jed blustered. “I ain’t got nothin’ you’d want. Just me and little Bitty here,” he gestured at the mule.
“I heard what you and the assayer said last time you was in Hester old man,” black beard said. “Now you hand over the goods, and we’ll just ride on out of here real quiet like.”
“I told ya, I ain’t got nothin’,” Jed called.
“We’ll see about that. Get ‘em boys!” black beard called and the three descended.
“I ain’t got no more,” Jed cried, as one of the thugs kicked him in the stomach again. “It’s in the bank back ta Hester,” he wheezed.
“I don’t believe you,” the dark bearded man said. “I think you’re holdin’ out on us.”
A surly looking man with slouched shoulders and a twisted grin punched Jed in the face, smearing the blood that already flowed from his nose.
“Better speak up soon old man. These boys don’t seem to believe ya.”
“I swear,” Jed groaned, hot tears pouring down his face. “I left the rest in Hester. That’s all I have.”
Black beard jingled the money bag in his hand with a heavy clink.
“How much is it,” the surly character asked, eyes bright with greed.
“Only about two hundred dollars,” black beard replied.
“Two hundred!” the other man exclaimed. “That’ll buy us a high time in town.”
The dark man walked up to Jed who was curled into a ball trying to protect himself from the onslaught of blows.
“I still think you got more old man,” he said, kicking Jed in the thigh and making him howl, “spill.”
“I swear, I swear,” Jed pleaded. “I ain’t got no more. I split with the young fella that was workin’ with me, and he lit out of Hester for home.”
The third man sauntered up to the old man and kicked him in the back knocking the breath from him as the others laughed.
“What about the mangy beast of his?” black beard asked, “find anything?”
“Naw, nothin’. Just a few supplies, jerky, water and the like.”
The man with the black beard took careful aim and pulled the trigger. The little donkey dropped to the ground, silent and still.
“No! No!” Jed screamed, “Bitty, not Bitty.” Hot tears poured down his face as the leader of the gang walked over and hit him hard in the face with the butt of his pistol.
***
TITUS DROPPED THE PICK and charged out of the hole at the sound of a pistol shot. He plunged over the rubble pile, swung onto his mule and raced toward camp, pistol in hand.
“Jed, Jed!” he cried his voice breaking with panic as he took a hard turn around a small clump of trees and saw the carnage before him.
Jed, covered in blood, lay in a battered heap amidst the cactus and stone and a dozen yards from him lay his little donkey.
Throwing himself from the saddle, Titus dropped down next to his friend, wiping the blood away from his face with a gentle hand.
“Jed. Jed. Don’t you die on me old man,” he pleaded, leaning close to listen for any sound of breathing.
Jed’s eyes fluttered open as his breath came in ragged gasps. “Bitty,” he whispered then passed out once more.
Titus smoothed the old man’s head then carefully checked to see if he had any broken bones.
He was breathing, but he was bleeding from several injuries on his face and skull, and he looked like he’d been badly battered.
“You just rest easy Jed,” Titus droned, his voice reassuring. “You’ll be alright. I’ll get you to town and to the doc.”
Once the old man was bandaged and comfortable, he walked to the prostrate form of the little donkey and knelt running a hand over her furry neck only to pull back when the animal blinked at him dazedly.
“You’re not dead Bitty,” Titus said moving up and stroking her nose, then examining where the bullet had hit.
A ragged laugh escaped his throat as he examined the blood smear that covered her neck. The bullet had only grazed across her withers, leaving her temporarily paralyzed.
“Well, wait till Jed hears this,” he whispered rubbing the little animal affectionately. “This’ll do him a world of good.”
As Bitty began to stir, Titus helped her to her feet, dropped her packs and headed back to Jed, who was still out cold.
“Jed, if you can hear me, Bitty isn’t dead. She’s gonna’ be alright.”
Carefully he bundled the old man in blankets, checked the bandages he’d wound around his head and hefted him onto his own mules back.
It would be a long slow walk to Hester, but they’d make it, and one way or another, the men who had done this would pay.
