around here.”
“Oh? What can you tell me about him?”
“Well,” Ty hesitated. How was he to tell her the uncle she wanted to help was not worth helping?
“I can take it, even if it’s something bad, Ty. Please, tell me about my uncle.”
“The business he runs isn’t a very nice one, Xenia.” He hoped this answer would satisfy her.
It didn’t.
“What kind of business does he have?”
“Oh, hell, Xenia. I might as well tell you. Seymour Longstreet owns and runs the Golden Door Saloon in Deer Meadow. The one you found Wilt and me in the other night. He’s also a gambler, and everybody knows he’ll do anything to make money.” He decided he wouldn’t tell her how Seymour forced one of the young women in town into prostitution after the girl’s father gave her to him to pay off a gambling debt. Everyone now knew that woman as Little Lil.
Xenia was quiet for a moment, then she asked in a soft voice, “Was he arrested and put in jail for something he says he didn’t do?”
“As far as I know, Seymour was never arrested. But I’ll have to ask the sheriff to be sure. Sometimes, he’ll throw somebody in jail and nobody knows about it because they’re out the next day.”
“So when he said they might hang him if we didn’t come to help, he was telling a lie?”
“Wait until we get to the bottom of this to make up your mind, Xenia.” Though he didn’t believe it, he added, “It could all be a misunderstanding.”
“Then when we get to the saloon, we’ll find some answers.”
“We won’t go directly to the saloon, Xenia.”
“Why not? I want to—”
“I know you do, but that’s not the way saloons work. The place will be locked up tight until almost noon. They work mostly at night, and nobody stirs until at least ten or eleven. Not even the cook or barkeep.”
“Then what shall I do until then?”
“I’ll take you to the hotel. You can rent a room and…”
“That man at the hotel won’t rent me a room.”
“I think you’ll see he has changed his mind when I take you to the desk.”
She shook her head. “If you go in he’ll probably kick you out, too. He doesn’t like babies or probably grown-ups with Indian blood in them.”
“There are a lot of people who feel that way, Xenia.”
She frowned. “Why?”
He couldn’t believe she asked him that, but he felt compelled to answer. “I guess because nobody believes the races should ever become friends. People in this area still remember the Indian raids in which they lost relatives or friends.”
“That’s sad.”
“It’s not perfect on the Indian side, either. Many remember the raids on villages by the army, and by some ranchers where their people died, too.” He glanced at Xenia. “Sometimes, they feel the same way about breeds as the white people do.”
“That’s ridiculous. A baby can’t control the circumstances of its birth.” She shook her head. “Look at Johnny. He’s one of the sweetest babies you’ll ever see. If someone would hate him because his mother was an Indian, then that person is the one with the problem—not Johnny.”
He glared sideways at her. Did she mean what she was saying? If so, she was the first and only white woman he’d ever met who felt that way. Well, Mea Ann could be the second. She must think the same thing as Xenia, else she wouldn’t love Johnny so much. And he had no doubt but that Mea Ann loved the boy. She couldn’t or wouldn’t be as attentive to him if she didn’t care.
Xenia broke the silence that followed her statement. “You haven’t said anything for a while. You must have something important on your mind. Or maybe I insulted you. Did I say something wrong?”
He shook his head. “No, Xenia you said nothing wrong. I guess it’s just hard for me to believe that a woman like you would feel the way you say you do about mixed blood people.”
“I would never lie about my feelings, Ty, but what do you mean, ‘a woman like me’?”
“I mean a
“Oh? What can you tell me about him?”
“Well,” Ty hesitated. How was he to tell her the uncle she wanted to help was not worth helping?
“I can take it, even if it’s something bad, Ty. Please, tell me about my uncle.”
“The business he runs isn’t a very nice one, Xenia.” He hoped this answer would satisfy her.
It didn’t.
“What kind of business does he have?”
“Oh, hell, Xenia. I might as well tell you. Seymour Longstreet owns and runs the Golden Door Saloon in Deer Meadow. The one you found Wilt and me in the other night. He’s also a gambler, and everybody knows he’ll do anything to make money.” He decided he wouldn’t tell her how Seymour forced one of the young women in town into prostitution after the girl’s father gave her to him to pay off a gambling debt. Everyone now knew that woman as Little Lil.
Xenia was quiet for a moment, then she asked in a soft voice, “Was he arrested and put in jail for something he says he didn’t do?”
“As far as I know, Seymour was never arrested. But I’ll have to ask the sheriff to be sure. Sometimes, he’ll throw somebody in jail and nobody knows about it because they’re out the next day.”
“So when he said they might hang him if we didn’t come to help, he was telling a lie?”
“Wait until we get to the bottom of this to make up your mind, Xenia.” Though he didn’t believe it, he added, “It could all be a misunderstanding.”
“Then when we get to the saloon, we’ll find some answers.”
“We won’t go directly to the saloon, Xenia.”
“Why not? I want to—”
“I know you do, but that’s not the way saloons work. The place will be locked up tight until almost noon. They work mostly at night, and nobody stirs until at least ten or eleven. Not even the cook or barkeep.”
“Then what shall I do until then?”
“I’ll take you to the hotel. You can rent a room and…”
“That man at the hotel won’t rent me a room.”
“I think you’ll see he has changed his mind when I take you to the desk.”
She shook her head. “If you go in he’ll probably kick you out, too. He doesn’t like babies or probably grown-ups with Indian blood in them.”
“There are a lot of people who feel that way, Xenia.”
She frowned. “Why?”
He couldn’t believe she asked him that, but he felt compelled to answer. “I guess because nobody believes the races should ever become friends. People in this area still remember the Indian raids in which they lost relatives or friends.”
“That’s sad.”
“It’s not perfect on the Indian side, either. Many remember the raids on villages by the army, and by some ranchers where their people died, too.” He glanced at Xenia. “Sometimes, they feel the same way about breeds as the white people do.”
“That’s ridiculous. A baby can’t control the circumstances of its birth.” She shook her head. “Look at Johnny. He’s one of the sweetest babies you’ll ever see. If someone would hate him because his mother was an Indian, then that person is the one with the problem—not Johnny.”
He glared sideways at her. Did she mean what she was saying? If so, she was the first and only white woman he’d ever met who felt that way. Well, Mea Ann could be the second. She must think the same thing as Xenia, else she wouldn’t love Johnny so much. And he had no doubt but that Mea Ann loved the boy. She couldn’t or wouldn’t be as attentive to him if she didn’t care.
Xenia broke the silence that followed her statement. “You haven’t said anything for a while. You must have something important on your mind. Or maybe I insulted you. Did I say something wrong?”
He shook his head. “No, Xenia you said nothing wrong. I guess it’s just hard for me to believe that a woman like you would feel the way you say you do about mixed blood people.”
“I would never lie about my feelings, Ty, but what do you mean, ‘a woman like me’?”
“I mean a
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