Chapter 11
The story so far: Milo is robbed by one of the "sporting girls."
Before work every morning, Milo took breakfast at the tavern, usually with the Swede. He ate half his meal, which was paid for by his rent money, and saved the rest to stuff into his lunch pail, since he had no money for lunch. By dinnertime he was famished. He did not want to return to the tavern, to the place where he had been humiliated, but he had no choice.
Leppe did not serve his meal until four nights after their encounter. "Well," she said. "If it isn't my eager little Greek."
"Not Greek," Milo corrected. Sober, Leppe's face did not look as beautiful as it had the first time he saw her. "Why did you do it?" he asked.
"Do what?" she retorted, placing a bowl of stew in front of him.
"Steal?"
"Because you let me." Her voice was even. "That is how it works here. Beer?" He shook his head and she walked away.
He wanted so very much to walk out the door. To return to a life filled with books, and music, and women who wouldn't let you hold their hand without a promise. He wanted to hate her, but he couldn't. She was doing a job, a job she probably despised. She was like the miners in that way. Debts to pay and nowhere to go.
In his first few weeks at the boarding house, Milo witnessed three knife fights and several fistfights. He had imagined that the fights would be big, brawling affairs involving many people, but they were not. All three had been fights between two men who had a score to settle. It was understood that men would have grievances and they would necessarily be settled through violence. Only once did the sheriff come into the tavern and it was to play Smear, a popular miner's card game that originated in Slovenia. Vince, the owner, was the sheriff's partner and Milo heard that the two of them made forty dollars each in a tournament that lasted long into the night. There were a few brawls that night too, but Sheriff Turner did not intervene.
One night Milo heard Leppe arguing with Moose. "I don't need you," she said. "I'll collect the money myself. Why should you get a dime?"
Moose's right hand flew out of his pocket and his fist, shaped like an iron heart, landed on Leppe's nose like a hammer. Leppe fell to the ground, covering her face. Blood seeped through her hands.
"Why you do like that?" Milo said to Moose.
"What?"
"Why you hit a lady?" The other customers grew quiet. At six feet, eight inches, Moose was a freak of nature. Rumor had it he had murdered two men in Minneapolis. He had done some time in Duluth, too, before making his way to the Range. No one challenged Moose Jackson and expected to live.
"You're the Greek, aren't you? What's your name?"
"My name is Milo Blatnik. I am from Ljubljana, in Slovenia."
"Nice to meet you," Moose said. Then, using both fists like a boxer, he pummeled Milo's face and kneed him in the stomach. Milo dropped like a ragdoll. For a moment, he heard the other men in the bar cheering, but he didn't know if they were urging him to fight back or urging Moose to kill him.
Chapter 12
When Milo came to, the sky was beginning to lighten. He was leaning against the hard brick of Cerkvenik's Mercantile, where someone had dragged him. He was awakened by the sound of buzzing. A small army of mosquitoes was swarming about him. They had been feasting on his bloody face for hours before he regained consciousness. The back of his head felt as if it had exploded and his innards felt as if they had been reorganized by a jackhammer.
He felt something warm and wet on his face and reached for it.
"Don't touch," a soft voice said. He put his hand down. Milo tried to open his eyes. His left eye was completely swollen shut. He could open his right eye, slightly. His vision was fuzzy. He could vaguely see a woman's face in front of his. Her hair was black. She was dabbing his wounds with a cloth.
"Do you have any people?"
"People?" He coughed blood and spit it out.
"To take care of you. You can't go back to Vince's place. Moose'll kill you."
Who was Vince? Who was Moose? Who was this woman? The words and images floated around him like ghosts. He tried to focus.
"Family. Friends," she said. "Anyone?"
"Leo and Ana Zalar. Belgrade location."
"Good," she said. "I will take you there, but we must hurry."
"Are you an angel?"
She hesitated. "No. I am Brina."
"Thank you. You save my life. Someday I will return the favor."
"Can you stand?"
He could, but barely. He stumbled to the Zalars' door, slumped against it and fell to the dirt.
Tomorrow: Chapter 12 continues.
