CHAPTER 13 
CHAPTER 13 From the first knock, Jem knew things would go badly. A grim-faced Mr. Sterling opened the door and stepped out on the wide veranda. It looked like he’d been awaiting their arrival and had shooed the housekeeper away to greet his guests alone. He did not invite them inside. Instead, he closed the door behind him, crossed his arms over his broad chest, and narrowed his eyes.
“Well?”
“I did my best, Ernest,” Mr. Carter said with a shrug, “but apparently their mine is not for sale.”
“Their mine!” Mr. Sterling scoffed. “I told you it was a waste of time, James. All those scavengers understand is force. Well, don’t worry. They’ll get out.” He uncrossed his arms and pointed a meaty finger in the sheriff’s direction. “I want you to evict those claim jumpers, Sheriff.”
Pa let out a breath. “I can’t do that, and you know it. It’s their claim.”
“Scavenger claims don’t count in my book.”
Pa’s expression turned hard. “They count in the town’s book, and that’s all I’m interested in.”
Mr. Sterling stepped across the porch until he and the sheriff stood nose to nose. “I dug that tunnel!” he shouted in Pa’s face. “There wouldn’t be any mine if I hadn’t opened it up all those years ago. And there won’t be any town if the Midas shuts down. No. More. Goldtown.” He punctuated each word with a jab to Pa’s chest. “Do you understand?”
Jem wanted to plug his ears and hightail it home. Or punch Mr. Sterling. How could Pa stand there and let Mr. Sterling bully him?
Pa didn’t flinch. He didn’t back down. He didn’t yell. “Of course I understand,” he said. “I want that air shaft as much as you and James do. But you’ll have to find another way. You can’t take Wu Hao’s claim.”
Mr. Sterling deflated like a leaky balloon. “You would let this town die for a handful of scavengers? Whose side are you on, Sheriff Coulter?”
It took Pa no time to answer. “When it’s the miners destroying your property, I’m on your side, Ernest. When it’s you trying to jump somebody’s legal claim, I’m on theirs.”
Mr. Sterling’s face turned red. His jabbing finger returned to Pa’s chest. “Let me tell you something, Sheriff. James Carter and I do not intend to simply throw up our hands and—”
“Sorry, Ernest,” Mr. Carter broke in. “I can’t be a part of this. I’m with the sheriff. Forcing those scavengers out is wrong … and illegal.”
Mr. Sterling whirled on his houseguest. “Are you crazy, James? Do you know what this means?” He didn’t wait for an answer but took a step back and grunted, “I’ll deal with this myself. No need for you to get your fingers dirty.”
He turned to Pa. “The circuit judge is due in town any day. If you haven’t the gumption to throw those scavengers out, we’ll see what Judge Reece has to say. In the meantime, Sheriff”—his eyes glinted dangerously—“I suggest you keep to your ranch and out of town.”
Pa stood his ground. “I hope that’s not a threat, Ernest. If it is, and you stir up more trouble in town, I’ll be right there—along with my deputies—to see that your rowdy miners behave themselves.”
Mr. Sterling snorted. “I doubt you’ll be able to hire any deputies. They know which side their bread is buttered on.”
Jem’s stomach churned listening to Mr. Sterling’s mean-mouthed threats. The mine owner’s tongue shot hot little word darts, poking Pa, trying to make him back down and give in. Pity for Will suddenly pricked at the back of Jem’s mind. If Mr. Sterling talked to his children half as mean as he was bossing Pa, then no wonder Will acted like he did.
Help me not to fly into Will the next time he acts up or shows off, Jem prayed. If Pa can stand there and take it, so can I … well … maybe.
Watching Pa stand up to Mr. Sterling gave Jem an idea. He still didn’t know which side he was on—whichever side keeps Pa safe, he told himself—but there was something he could do to stand up to Mr. Sterling’s mean and bossy ways. Besides, he was sick of listening to him.
“Pa,” Jem broke in. He was too upset to worry about his bad manners. “I’ve got something I have to do. I’ll see you back at the ranch, if that’s all right.”
Pa raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He nodded and turned back to Mr. Sterling, who seemed not to have noticed Jem’s rude interruption. The mine owner was on another rant. Chad made a move toward Jem, but Jem shook his head. This was something he had to do himself. Chad slumped. Clearly, he wanted a reason to escape the charged air. It seemed to crackle around the three men.
Jem clomped down the porch steps and around to the kitchen entrance. Saturday was firewood delivery day. He had to talk to Cook before then. He rapped on the door and waited. Then he waited some more. Another rap, harder this time. It was almost noon. Surely, the Sterling’s cook was inside preparing the meal. A curtain hung across the glass pane in the door. It was no use trying to peer inside to see what was going on.
Jem was lifting his fist to bang on the windowpane when the door opened. Will stood in the doorway, munching on the biggest sugar cookie Jem had ever seen. “What do you want?” Will demanded between mouthfuls.
None of your business nearly flew from Jem’s mouth, but he bit the words back. “Is your cook around?” he asked.
Will popped the rest of the cookie in his mouth and swiped a careless sleeve across his face. It didn’t help much. Cookie crumbs stuck to his cheeks like pale freckles. “She’s busy.”
Jem waited, but Will did not offer to fetch the cook. He didn’t invite Jem inside. He just stood there, studying him.
“May I talk to her?” Jem finally asked. He wanted to shove his way inside. Will was baiting him, trying to make him lose his temper. It nearly choked him, but Jem added, “Please?”
Will smirked and flung the door open all the way. “I suppose. Come on in.”
He left Jem standing in the kitchen. The black cook stove radiated a stifling heat. Pots and pans bubbled; a tea kettle whistled. The odor of roast beef and boiling potatoes made Jem’s stomach rumble. This meal is not for you, he told his belly.
Will returned a minute later with Cook. He snatched another cookie from a cooling rack and said, “Make it fast, Jem. Cook’s busy.”
Cook rounded on Will. Her gray eyes snapped. “I’ll have none of your lip in my kitchen, Master William, or the missus’ll hear about you snackin’ between meals.”
Will gulped and nodded.
Jem hid a grin. It was clear who ruled the Sterlings’ kitchen.
Cook turned to Jem with a smile. “What can I be doin’ for you today, Jem? It’s not Saturday. Are you delivering wood early?”
“No, ma’am. I …” Jem paused to see if Will would leave the room and give them some privacy. He didn’t. The sneaky weasel settled himself on top of a stool, all ears. I should have known. Well, no matter. “I came to tell you that I won’t be delivering your firewood anymore.”
Cook threw up her hands. “Merciful heavens! Why not?”
Will stopped chewing. His brown eyes bugged out. Jem knew why. Every boy in town clamored for the Sterlings’ firewood business. Jem had offers to swap for it every few months.
“Well …” Jem squirmed. Then he took a deep breath and let his words tumble out. He didn’t care if Will heard them. “My pa’s having a rough time right now. He’s standing up against Mr. Sterling, even though he doesn’t want to see the mine fail and Goldtown die. But he’s got no choice, not like the rest of the town. He’s the sheriff and has to uphold the law.” Jem swallowed. “Even for scavengers.”
Will’s mouth dropped open.
Jem squared his shoulders. “I reckon I can take a stand too and drop Mr. Sterling from my route. I want to show him that even though I’m not sure if I’m on the scavengers’ side, I am on Pa’s side.” His shoulders slumped. “I know Cole Thompson wants this route. He’s reliable. I’ll let him know he can have it.”
Cook didn’t answer for a moment. Instead, she pressed her lips together and blinked. Then she took a corner of her apron and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry to lose you, Jem,” she finally said. “But goodness! Wouldn’t your mama be proud if she could see you now.” She thrust a warm sugar cookie into Jem’s hand. “Here. You go along now and don’t be worrin’ ’bout your pa. The good Lord’ll take care of all this, you’ll see.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jem mumbled. “Thank you, ma’am.” He jammed the sugary treat into his mouth and left in a hurry, anxious to get away before Will could tease him. Jem could hear him now: I knew you were a fool, Jem, but to give up the best customer in all of Goldtown makes you dumber than dumb.
Without the Sterlings, Jem’s firewood business would take a permanent nosedive. He’d already lost the Big Strike, when Pa pulled the plug on delivering sawdust to a saloon. Now he was down to two firewood customers and a scant handful of folks who wanted frog legs. With summer in full swing, his frog-leg business would soon dry up too.
“I’m gonna be broke,” Jem mourned as he mounted Copper and urged him toward home. Not even the extra free time to pan for gold cheered him. By late summer, Cripple Creek would be dried up to a mere trickle, making it extra hard to wash gold.
Alone with his thoughts, Jem plodded down the winding road from Belle Hill to town. He didn’t turn around when he heard the sound of hoofbeats clattering behind him. It’s probably Chad, wanting to pan more gold. Jem didn’t feel like going to the creek. Besides, he had about a million chores waiting for him at home.
“Hey, Jem!” Will’s nasal voice pierced the air.
Roasted rattlesnakes! Why can’t Will leave me alone? He readied his heels above Copper’s flank. One swift kick and Prince Charming would be left in the dust. Literally. But the look on Will’s face when he pulled up beside Copper made Jem tuck in his feet and pause. “What do you want?”
“Nothin’,” Will replied. “I’m headed for town. Thought I’d ride along with you.”
“Why?” Jem didn’t know what to make of Will’s sudden show of friendliness.
Will shrugged. “No reason, I guess.” Then he sighed. “All right. There’s a reason. Father’s been in a ranting, yelling, stomping rage all week. I had to get outta there.” He eyed Jem. “He’s mad as all get out at your pa, and now …” His voice trailed off.
“Yeah?” Jem urged. “Now what?”
“The Carters are moving to the hotel in town. They must not like my father’s mood any better than I do.”
“If they’re smart, they’ll go back to their ranch,” Jem muttered.
Will cracked a smile. “Yeah.”
Jem rounded the corner to Main Street and shrugged. “See ya, Will.” It was the polite thing to say, even though he hoped he didn’t see Will Sterling or his father for a long, long time. Will waved and went his own way. A couple more blocks and Jem would be rid of the town and back on the ranch. He planned to stay there until all this mine business blew over. Safer that way.
A sudden squeal of pain and terror pulled Jem away from his plans. A group of boys half a block away surrounded Wu Shen. They were bullying him. Again. Jem’s anger burned red hot. He might not agree with the Chinese miners’ decision to hold on to their mine, but he would not let anyone pick on his friend.
“Leave him alone!” he shouted, urging Copper forward.
The boys ignored Jem and continued to attack Shen. Dutch Warner overturned Shen’s two-wheeled pushcart. One wheel came loose, and his load of laundry went flying. Tom Lange clutched a fistful of Shen’s long pigtail. Even Jem’s friend Cole was taking part. He had Shen by one arm, holding him tight, while two others threw swift punches at their helpless victim.
Furious, Jem plowed Copper into the middle of the group. Now they would listen! A cry of surprise and rage mixed with Copper’s whinny and Shen’s screeching. Cole and another boy fled, one cradling his arm and limping.
“I hope Copper stepped on your foot!” Jem yelled after him. He looked around. Tom and Dutch had dodged the horse and were hitting and pulling at Shen. Freddy Stone held him tight. Jem yanked on Copper’s reins. The horse shied to the left and rammed into Tom.
Tom reached out and snagged Jem’s ankle, keeping his balance. Then he curled his other hand around Jem’s leg and yanked. Other eager hands grasped Jem’s britches and shirt. With a triumphant shout, the boys pulled Jem off his horse and into the fray.