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THE EVENING WORE ON with more stories and laughter. However, David’s story gave her time to size up the men she would travel with. Her dear friend Kate, the bartender, shot in Alaska, taught her how. She remembered Kate saying. “You Best be prepared for trouble and keep your gun handy.”
Another precaution, Marie was traveling with three guns that included the Derringer. She used to kill a dangerous man while beating Glorietta, one of the crib whores.
She remembered how Soupy defended her actions at her trial held by the Miners’ Committee, and they, of course, won. That thought brought back more memoirs...
* * *
“I HAVEN’T SEEN YOU since my trail Soupy, not surprising, since your partner spends his time and money here, instead of helping you work your digs?” Marie said, sitting down at the table where soupy was eating their new Chinese cook’s version of a steak dinner. She wondered if all that spicy sauce was covering up something. Maybe the hungry miners should count their horses.
“Well, we had a fallen out last month. I dissolved our partnership because of that now, the kids on his own. He said, looking over at the bar where Mallory was talking with a couple of toughs. Not sure what he’s going to do, I offered to grubstake him if he wants to go it alone. He turned me down, said my way was old-fashioned. Hell, if that young, uneducated whippersnapper knew how much gold I’ve mine in my declining years... that would wipe the smirk off his face! I don’t know the fellows he is talking with, do you?”
“The one on the right sets up the Saturday boxing matches; the other one helps with the side bets. Both gave up prosecuting for the easy money. It seems your ex-partner is their favorite to win this evening.”
“His father had taught him to box. The camp matches use to be entertainment, quite hilarious actually, but now Mallory’s brutality is the main attraction. He uses his knowledge to destroy his opponents. However, tonight that could change.” Soupy said with a sly grin on his old face that looked like chiseled stone burnt by the sun.
“You know something, should I follow your lead and bet against Mallory?”
Soupy nodded a discrete yes as he cut off another grizzly piece of mystery meat.
That evening a large man in a clean but well wore tweed suit found a place at the bar near where Marie helped Daryl and his Wife Kate serving drinks to the excited miners. The anticipation for the evening fight was running higher than usual. No one knew who the opponent was scheduled to fight Mallory.
Daryl had a second tent adjoining the bar tent where Marie did her singing, but no performing this evening. They converted the stage into the Saturday night center boxing ring.
Marie served the large gentleman in the tweed suit. “Thank you, Lass, don’t be shy, keep them coming, I have a terrible thirst,” he said. Before she turned away to pour another one, she noticed that he glanced towards Soupy, standing innocently at the end of the bar. Marie smiled to herself, “So this lean, tall Scottish man was our mysteries’ fighter.”
She then overheard a man taking bets he wouldn’t show. When Marie set his second drink in front of him, he winked and said. “Be sure now to make that bet, he whispered, and could you bring me one of those heavenly smelling steaks, Lass.”
* * *
MARIE AND KATE SAT with Soupy on an elevated stage prop near the back wall to watch the fight. They had learned to stay away from the exuberant crowd was prudent.
Daryl stepped inside the ring. His baritone voice shouted the miners into a silence. “Gentlemen, in this corner, we have our champion, Mallory Laurent,” a roar halted his introduction. Daryl again yelled for silence. “In this corner,” the large man came out of the shadows without his tweed suit jacket wearing an undershirt, stepped inside the ring. A murmur went through the crowd. Gentlemen, “This is David McGregor, our challenger.” The crowd started up again, exchanging bets on the newcomer while Daryl called out the rules, no kicking, biting, or eye-gouging, Marquis of Queensbury rules, that was impossible for Daryl to enforce. These bare-fisted matches were rough and tumble brawls.
Marie watched as the men circled each other. It reminded her of her father. He was a fan of Pugilism. He ate breakfast reading the paper, commenting about James J. Corbett, “Gentleman Jim,” a master of scientific boxing.
Without her fathers’ permission, Marie, which he never would have given, snuck into a match fought by Gentleman Jim. “The man was swift, moved like a dancer, and he was so handsome.”
McGregor, too, was good-looking, and his moves were similar. It was more evident when Mallory threw three fast punches that never touched his defender. However, it left Mallory open for a quick jab that hit him so hard he staggered. Instead of going in for the kill, the Scotsman stepped back and smiled. His smugness infuriated Mallory. He lunged forward, kicking out to cripple with his capped toes. It was a successful move in the past—again. He hit nothing but air, throwing himself off balance.
It was more degrading when David gave him a gentle push that sent him tumbling to the floor, He then had to listening to the jeers and laughter coming from the crowd.
Marie observed the two men. Mallory looks told if he had a gun, he’d shoot the Pugilist patiently waiting across the ring, tauntingly smiling while twirling the ends of his prodigious mustache. This time Mallory charged headlong like a bull, anticipating scoring a hit in the midsection! Suddenly, he was airborne with the help of the Scotsman, who bounced out of the way, tripping him as he passed!
He landed in the first and second row of shouting miners who threw him back in the ring, declaring this was the best match they have ever seen!
That was the end of round one; the fighters briefly rested while the betting resumed, changing the odds in favor of the Scottish boxer.
Soupy told Marie and Kate to observe when Mallory’s hands were re-wrapped. “No reason for it. He never landed a blow,” he said.
“Look, he’s pouring water on his wrapped hands. Why would he do that, Kate asked?”
“Most likely the material is covered with plaster of Paris—it’s a gypsum, white, powdery substances, when you add water it hardens multiplying the force of the blow,” Soupy said as he watched David, who saw Mallory’s every move. When he stood, he turned to look at Soupy, who discretely held his fist and pointed at Mallory. David nodded an acknowledgment before dancing to the center of the ring. Now the action was faster.
Mallory was moving confidently. He could feel the plaster drying around his closed hands. However, it wasn’t going as Mallory planned; the Scotsman was no longer defensive. He was aggressive, landing one punch after another. Damn it, my hands haven’t hardened yet; Mallory murmured when a series of blows to his midsection took his breath away. He gasped for a breath, managing to swing, making partial contact with no actual effect. The blows moved quickly to his head with two swift punches that sent him reeling against the corner post. It was reinforced by miners crowding forward to see. They pushed him back into the ring. He threw a roundhouse punch; hopefully, the plaster was hard enough to end the match.
He missed, spinning, leaving his side open to a punch that broke his ribs.
The second punch was a hard-right hook smashing into Mallory’s nose, sending him into a black world as he hit the mat—it was over.
* * *
MARIE’S THOUGHTS WERE interrupted by the loud laughter from the crew of the ‘Star Of India.
Moon laid her massive head-on Marie’s lap. She had been sleeping beside her chair for the last hour. Marie fondled her large ear and stroked her neck. After the burial of Soupy, Moon wouldn’t leave her side. Marie felt safe with her nearby and glad she turned down Soupy’s friends’ offers to take her.
Now when approached by strangers, if Moon growled her disapproval, they were gone in an instant. Moon’s ears perked up, and she rolled her head on Marie’s lap to watch the Pinkerton man, David McGregor, talking up a storm.
Moon got along with David. Marie remembered what he said before they arrived in San Francisco when he sat down next to them, lighting his pipe and stroking Moon’s head before he spoke, “I’ll be leaving you soon, Lass, shortly after we debark. My firm has assigned me to a new case in Chicago. It’s urgent, as always. I’m scheduled on the next train out. Just so you know, a wire will be sent to your Dad in New York to let him know you safely arrived.”
“Thank you for telling me, David. I’m sure I added a few grayer hairs.”
“Aye, that you surely did, Lass. I met him before leaving for the Klondike; he was a worried man then. It is none of my business. Let me say this. Whatever became between you two, time has a way of healing. Ahh, there she be, David said, standing, isn’t it grand!”
The fog was lifting while the sun broke through the clouds, revealing the gateway to the bay and the golden city of San Francisco!