Chapter 14

The Monday day shift was just ending when Marco and Alfredo saw the marshal approaching. The man motioned Marco to join him; no doubt this was about the Finn. The Panettas had found him near death and half frozen shortly after they’d begun their search in the wee hours of Sunday morning. The Panetta men had managed to get the man over to Dr. Shipman’s, but the doctor feared the man wouldn’t survive. All day Sunday they had waited for word that the Finn had passed on, but it never came. Now the marshal was here, and Marco knew that couldn’t bode well.

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened to Mr. Gadd.”

“Was that the Finn’s name?” Marco asked.

The marshal nodded. “Still is. I understand you were there when he was beaten up at the Fortune Hole.”

Marco looked to his brother for a moment, uncertain how he should respond. If he told the truth, Leo would be implicated and possibly arrested. And Marco feared Leo’s wrath. But if he didn’t tell the truth, it would be the same as approving of what had happened.

Turning back to the marshal, Marco nodded. “I was there.”

“Want to tell me what happened? Gadd can’t tell me much of anything just yet. Doc thinks he’ll recover, but it may be slow going for a while.”

“I’m glad to hear he didn’t die,” Marco said. He couldn’t help but feel self-conscious as his fellow miners shuffled by on their way home. “You think we could talk somewhere else? Maybe you could come to the house later?”

The marshal’s eyes narrowed. “You afraid of something?”

Alfredo jumped in. “It’s freezing out here and looks like it’s gonna snow. At home, Mama will have hot coffee and food. You’d be welcome to join us for supper.”

Marco felt a sense of relief that his brother seemed to understand his apprehension. The marshal grinned. “Guess I have to eat, and I happen to know that folks highly regard your mama’s and sisters’ cooking. I suppose I could follow you over.”

“Why don’t you just meet us at the house,” Alfredo said. “Marco and me gotta make a stop first, and then we’ll be there.”

The marshal nodded. “I’ll be by in about twenty minutes, then.”

Marco and Alfredo took off before the man could change his mind. Marco threw his brother a sidelong glance. “Thanks.”

“I figure you don’t need word getting back to Leo that you’re talking to the law.”

“I don’t, but this is a small town. It’s bound to.”

Alfredo shook his head. “Leo deserves to go to prison for what he did to that poor man.”

“It seems apparent that Leo is quite comfortable in ending lives.” Marco couldn’t help but shudder. It didn’t sit well with him to know that he’d been rather blind to his friend’s true nature.

Alfredo pointed to the general store. “Let’s stop here and get Mama some peppermints. That way we won’t have been lying when I told the marshal we had to make a stop.”

Marco followed Alfredo into the store. A few of the other miners were already inside purchasing a variety of things. Marco waited just inside the front door as Alfredo made his way to the counter. He couldn’t shake the sense of dread that washed over him. Leo seemed more than happy to put an end to his problems, even when those problems came in the form of people. What would he do to Marco . . . to his family . . . should he find out that Marco told the marshal the truth?

He’ll know it was me. Whether anyone sees me talking to the marshal or not . . . he’ll know. Maybe it would be better to say nothing at all.

Alfredo returned with a small sack of candy. “This ought to make Mama happy.”

“But having the marshal there won’t,” Marco muttered as they exited the store. “She’s going to be all worried about what’s going on.”

“She’ll be all right,” Alfredo assured him. “Papa probably already told her what happened. You know they don’t keep secrets.”

Marco nodded, knowing his brother was right. The thought of his mother knowing the truth, however, left him feeling deeply ashamed. Their walk home was made in silence. The cold wind stung Marco’s eyes and burned his lungs. He ducked his face into his coat, glad for the little warmth it offered. Neither he nor Alfredo said another word on the matter of the marshal or Leo.

At home, Alfredo gave Mama the peppermints and told her the marshal would be joining them for dinner. Chantel and Isabella looked at Alfredo and then to Marco as if for an explanation, but neither man accommodated. Mama seemed to understand and instructed Isabella to set another place.

She knows, Marco thought. Papa had no doubt told her what had taken place that night. Marco also hoped his father had kept back some of the details, but it wasn’t likely. She didn’t seem at all surprised by the news about the marshal, but her face bore an expression that suggested worry. It only made Marco’s shame increase.

Marshal Garrison arrived and chatted about the town as if he were there for the sole purpose of visiting. Marco, however, shifted uncomfortably and tried to focus on the meal set before him, but found it impossible.

“Ladies, this has been quite a delightful meal. I appreciate your taking me in like this.”

“It’s no problem,” Mama said with a smile. “You are always welcome here.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to have a word with your menfolk,” the marshal said, getting up from the table. “Could we perhaps adjourn to the sitting room?”

Marco saw his father nod. Standing, he motioned for Marco and Alfredo to follow. Reluctantly, Marco got up from his chair. He still wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to say. He didn’t want to lie; after all, he had told his father the truth. Maybe it would have been easier if he’d just talked to the marshal out on the street. At least then he wouldn’t be so hard-pressed to be honest.

They took seats in the front room and waited while Papa added wood to the fire. The marshal looked quite intent on getting on with the matter, however. He fixed Marco with a look that suggested he would brook no nonsense.

“Now, why don’t you tell me what happened at the Fortune Hole?”

Marco looked at the ground. “Not much to tell. There was a game of cards and a misunderstanding. Gadd and Leo Fortino got into it. Gadd thought Leo was dealing off the bottom.”

“And was he?” the marshal asked.

Marco shrugged. “Could have been. I didn’t notice.”

“Were you in the game?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t paying too much attention. I’d had a few beers.”

Marshal Garrison nodded again. “Go on.”

“I don’t know what else to say. Gadd accused Leo of cheating, and Leo took offense.”

“So he dealt the first blow?”

Marco squirmed in his seat like a ten-year-old. “He pretty much dealt the only blows. Gadd fought him—don’t get me wrong—but you know Leo. He’s fast.”

“Did he only use his fists?”

Marco looked at his father. He knew he had to tell the truth, but oh, how he wanted to avoid it. He didn’t want to get on Leo’s bad side.

“Tell him, son.”

“He hit him with a pistol butt.” Marco stopped and shook his head. “Look, I don’t want Leo mad at me. He has to keep peace in his establishment. He just did what he thought he had to do. Gadd did fight back.”

“But not well,” the marshal replied.

“No, not well. Leo is wiry and fast.”

“So what happened after that, Marco?”

Again Marco looked to his father. He could see that he expected nothing but the absolute truth. With a sigh, Marco resigned himself to the situation. “Leo knocked Gadd out. He figured he was dead and . . . and . . . told one of his men to get him out of there.”

“Where was he supposed to take him?”

Marco dug his fingers into his legs. “He . . . Leo told him to dump the body on the railroad tracks.” There, he’d said it. He’d left no doubt as to Leo’s intention to see the man dead.

The marshal nodded. “I guess he figured if Gadd wasn’t already dead, he would be when the train came through. I suppose I need to go have a talk with Mr. Fortino. Attempted murder can’t be tolerated.”

“Look, he’s not going to like it that I said anything,” Marco declared without thinking. “I don’t want to see harm come to my family.”

“Son, you don’t need to worry about that,” Papa interjected. “It’s important that you told the truth and that the marshal can get justice for Mr. Gadd. That man did not deserve to be dealt with in such a manner.”

“No, he certainly didn’t,” Marshal Garrison agreed. He got to his feet. “I’m not sure how much justice we can get, but I intend to do what I can. Given there’s only a mandatory ninety-day sentence for murder, however, I’m not sure that Mr. Fortino will face anything more than a dressing down.” He shook his head. “It isn’t right, but until we have better laws, I doubt we can expect much more. I want to thank you again for supper, Mr. Panetta. Now I’ll make my way over to the Fortune Hole and see what I can find out there.”

Marco didn’t bother to see the marshal to the door. He sat staring at the flames of the fire, wondering if he’d done the right thing.

Chantel felt her heart skip a beat when Dante and Orlando Calarco stepped into her bedroom to see their grandmother. She had been reading from the Bible to Nonna Barbato when they arrived. She glanced up to find Dante watching her with decided interest and couldn’t help but feel all aquiver. The man’s dark eyes connected with her own, and she felt a tug low in her belly.

“You have visitors,” Chantel said, getting to her feet.

Nonna Barbato smiled and welcomed her grandsons. “You boys look tired. Was it a hard day at the mine?”

“Every day is hard there, Nonna,” Orlando declared. He kissed her forehead. “That’s why I don’t intend to make it my living.”

His grandmother eyed him with amusement. “Oh? And what do you suppose you’ll do instead?”

Orlando slipped into the chair vacated by Chantel. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll learn to bake bread like you make. I think I could be a good baker, don’t you?”

Chantel heard the older woman laugh, but her gaze was fixed on Dante. He stepped forward and kissed his grandmother’s forehead. “Orlando wouldn’t make a good baker at all. He has no patience for it,” Dante declared.

This brought a smile to Chantel’s lips, and she seriously wondered what Dante knew about the patience needed for baking. Nonna, however, thoroughly enjoyed seeing her grandsons and didn’t seem to care at all what the topic of conversation might be. She let the boys ramble on about their day and about the neighbors, all while Chantel stood near the door. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but for some reason she hadn’t thought to leave. When Nonna asked her a question, however, Chantel realized she had been deep in thought.

“I’m sorry, Nonna, what did you say?”

“I asked if you had some dessert left over for my boys. You know they are at each other’s mercy for food these days. Soon I will be well enough to return home, but I think they would very much like some of your Pesche Ripiene.”

“Stuffed peaches at this time of year?” Orlando asked. “What a treat.”

“We used peaches we canned last fall,” Chantel replied. “It’s not exactly the same, but they come out pretty good, if I do say so myself.” She smiled.

“It sounds wonderful,” Orlando replied.

“Then if you like, I’ll bring you each a portion.” She looked to Dante, and to her surprise he gave her an almost boyish grin of delight.

“It’s one of my favorites, I have to admit.”

She liked seeing the pleasure in his expression. Chantel hurried to the kitchen where her mother and Isabella were just putting away the last of the dishes.

“Mrs. Barbato asked me to give Orlando and . . . Dante some dessert. I hope you don’t mind.”

Mama pulled down two dessert plates. “Of course not. Take them coffee, too. It was probably a cold walk to come see their nonna.”

Chantel nodded, but Isabella was the one to take the plates. “I’ll help you. After all, it will give me an excuse to spend time with Orlando.” She lowered her voice. “We’re trying so hard to keep our distance and not appear overly eager to be alone.” She moved to where the glass dish of stuffed peaches sat and began to dish up portions for each man.

“You can’t really imagine that the Calarcos have just forgotten about Orlando’s plans to marry you,” Chantel chided. She went to the cupboard and took down two cups and saucers.

“I don’t know if they’ve forgotten or not, but Orlando said we should give them no reason to do anything rash. He said if his nonna hadn’t gotten sick, his father might have insisted they move south. He’s fearful of what his father might do if he perceives a real threat to his family.”

“But what about your elopement? Won’t that cause problems anyway?” Chantel asked.

Isabella shrugged. “By the time he could confront us, we would be legally married. There would be nothing more he could say or do.”

“Except disown his son.” Chantel noted her mother’s frown. “I would hate to think of such a joyous occasion separating a family.”

“It would only be separated at Mr. Calarco’s choosing,” Isabella replied.

Chantel knew her sister was right. She had the feeling that even Dante wouldn’t protest overmuch should the young couple marry. He seemed more accepting of her family since they’d taken over care for his grandmother. It wouldn’t be long, however, before Nonna Barbato could return to her home.

The sisters served the Calarco brothers their dessert and coffee in the bedroom. Nonna seemed delighted to have the foursome around her and insisted the girls remain. Sitting on the edge of Isabella’s bed, Chantel and her sister did as she asked.

Sampling the dessert, Orlando threw them an ear-to-ear grin. “This is good. Nonna, it tastes just like yours.”

“It’s not hard to make,” Isabella declared. “Chantel taught me just this morning. In fact, I ground the almonds and peach pulp. Chantel took care of crushing the lady fingers, and then we blended it with sugar and candied fruit. That makes the stuffing.”

“Well, it’s delicious,” Dante said, his gaze traveling to Chantel’s face.

She felt her cheeks grow hot under his scrutiny. Why should he have such an effect on her? Goodness, but the man made her feel most uncomfortable. She looked to Nonna, who had closed her eyes. “Do you need anything, Nonna Barbato? Some tea perhaps?”

“No,” the older woman said, shaking her head. She opened her eyes and looked up with an expression of contentment. “I’m just fine. I’m very happy.”

“What’s got you so happy, Nonna?” Orlando asked. “You like watching Dante and me eat?”

Their grandmother nodded and gave a chuckle. “Sí. I very much like that. It means all is well. It means you are healthy and safe. It means we live another day.”

When it was clear that Nonna Barbato was ready to sleep, the foursome exited the room. Chantel offered to take the plates and suggested Orlando and Dante warm up by the fire before heading home. When she returned to the front room, she was surprised to find Isabella and Orlando gone and Dante talking with her brother Marco. Chantel paused outside of the room to overhear what was being said.

“I think so long as my grandmother is under your roof,” Dante declared, “it is my business.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Marco replied. “The truth is, the marshal was here because of something I saw. A man took a beating and was left for dead the other night. It happened at the Fortune Hole. I was there. My father and brother and I rescued the man from the railroad tracks and took him to Dr. Shipman.”

“I see. And who was responsible for leaving him to die?”

“Leo Fortino.”

Chantel put her hand to her mouth to suppress a gasp. She had never thought Leo a reputable man, but she’d never considered him to be a killer.

“I’m afraid he might become vindictive,” Marco added. “I know he’s capable of most anything.”

“He wouldn’t hurt the women, would he?” Dante asked. “I recall him being rather heavy-handed with your sister Chantel one evening not so long ago.”

“He fancies himself in love with her,” Marco said with a near snarl.

Chantel pressed closer to better hear the conversation. She was surprised at the concern and interest that Dante seemed to have for their safety.

“Is there anything I can do to help you in this matter?” Dante asked.

“Why would you help?”

Chantel hadn’t expected this bluntness from her brother. “I suppose you mean because of the feud,” Dante replied. “Even so, as I said before, my nonna is here. If Fortino means to do you or your family harm—it might involve her. And . . . well . . . I wouldn’t want to see harm come to any of the ladies here.”

“Nor would I,” Marco replied. “It isn’t their fight and not their fault. I put myself in a dishonorable place—they didn’t.” He sounded so downcast that Chantel could no longer stand it.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she said, entering the room.

Marco got to his feet. “No. I was just headed to bed. Feeling kind of spent. Might be catching a cold.”

Chantel put her hand to his brow. It was cool. “I can make you some tea with herbs.”

“No, I’ll just go to bed. Thanks anyway.” He turned back and nodded at Dante. “Evening.”

Chantel hadn’t expected to be left alone with Dante. She wondered if she should try to start a conversation or if it would be best to remain silent. She didn’t wonder long.

“Did you manage to hear everything?” he asked, looking amused.

She startled at the question and was unable to hide her surprise. “I . . . what do you . . . mean?”

He laughed. “I saw your shadow on the foyer floor. You were listening just outside the door to our conversation.”

Chantel let out a breath and tried to hide her embarrassment. “Guilty as charged. I suppose I was just surprised that you and Marco would have anything to talk about in a civil manner.”

Dante shrugged. “I know how to keep my temper and mind my manners. So what do you know about this problem with Fortino?”

“Very little until tonight. Though the marshal was here, he spoke privately with the men. Marco has been quiet. Papa and Alfredo aren’t talking about it, either.”

“I can’t say that I blame them. You should know about it, however, so that you can be more careful. If Fortino is of a mind to harm this family, any of you could be at risk.”

Dante’s tone had grown very serious, and he’d moved a step closer to her. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Not knowing what else to say, she remained quiet.

A silence hung between them, heavy with unspoken words. At last Dante reached for his coat, then turned and looked intently at her face. “I couldn’t bear to see you hurt,” he said quietly. Then he stepped out the door.