Greed

Copyright © 2017 Janna Hill.  All rights reserved.

The characters appearing in this work are fictitious unless previously revealed in public history. Otherwise fictitious characters bearing any resemblance to real persons, living or dead are purely coincidental.

Be advised this book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial use without express permission from the author. Thank you for your support.

Published in the USA by J Hill Ink

Introduction

What does A Face in the Falls, August Wolf and The Sharecropper’s Son have in common?

These stories reveal the perplexities, the strengths and the weakness of people that are true to life and like life these stories expose the innate greed present in mankind.

THERE IS MORE IN YOU of good than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

Table of Contents

Copyright

Introduction

A Face in the Falls

August Wolf

The Sharecropper’s Son

About the Author

Catalogue

A Face in the Falls

JACKSON DROPPED THE reigns and his faithful mare came to a halt. Her chestnut coat was dry and her breathing unperturbed. He knew she could go another few miles with ease, but it would soon be dark and there was no need to chance a mishap.

He surveyed the small San Luis valley and decided to make camp at the base of the sand dunes.

Two clicks of his tongue and Jenny followed him to a thin stream rippling through the sand.

Jackson allowed the horse to drink while he unloaded his pack. When he hoisted the saddle from her back; she heaved a deep sigh, dropped to the ground and began to roll.

That feels good, don’t it ole gal? Jackson chuckled as the mare stretched her legs toward the heavens and tossed her large frame side to side.

Jackson often spoke aloud to Jenny and sometimes she answered with a snort or a nicker.

It’ll be dark soon. You stay put while I fetch a little firewood.

Jenny leapt up, shook her ebony mane and neighed.

The grit was more difficult to navigate than the old cowpoke anticipated. After a few slips Jackson dug the toes of his worn boots into the sand and scrambled up the modest hill. He hurriedly gathered an armful of dry kindling and let himself slide back down.

I know the alpine will burn quick and won’t make much heat, but we’re not gonna need a lot of heat. he reasoned as he aligned the sticks in tee-pee fashion. Alpine don’t make much smoke either – that there is a good thing.

In less than a minute the fire was burning. Jackson fanned the flames and nestled his coffee pot in the center of the fire.

We sure don’t want to draw the Utes down on us. he dropped a heap of black ground beans in and emptied his canteen into the pot. I’ll fill the water jugs in the morning. This here water is full of silt, Jackson nodded toward the stream. but the water coming down through those falls Jenny... Jackson’s voice cracked as he spoke. He swept a hand across his weathered face and cleared his throat, it’s pure holy water, that’s what it is. 

Jenny interrupted, nudging Jackson’s hip. He rummaged through the worn leather pouch and held out a handful of alfalfa cubes coated in dried molasses.

Here you go girl.  The horse stretched her upper lip and pulled the cubes into her mouth where they quickly disappeared. He extended his hand until Jenny licked the last sweet smelling bits from his palm. That’s all for today. Tomorrow you will feast on some of the finest blades of greenery God ever made.

Jackson sipped his scorched black coffee from a tin cup and watched the sun disappear behind the snowcapped mountains of Sangre De Cristo. As it sank lower the white caps transformed to a rosy pink, the crevasses turned a shade of crimson and it seemed the hills were drenched in bloodstained tears.

It’s all going to change Jenny... it’s already changing.

The horse nibbled at miniscule plants dotted along the sand, her silhouette spilling across the campfire.

Everybody’s lookin’ to get rich – gold and railroads is all folks seem to care about. Jackson pulled a plug of tacky honeycomb from his pocket, dipped it into his drink and chewed at the waxy edges. I’m partial to precious stones, myself.

The mare whinnied.

The injuns ain’t the only problem. He smacked, rubbing his edentulous gums over his lips, Oh, make no mistake, there are still a few wild Utes wanderin’ about – probably watching us right now. He took another sip, the honey certainly made the coffee more palatable. It’s the Spaniards and the English that trouble my sleep. And all the yahoos scattered around these hills, everyone one of `em lookin’ for the treasure. Greedy dangerous types! Those are the ones to worry about. We gotta watch out for them.

Jackson un-holstered his six shooter and spun the chamber before shoving the gun inside the front of his denims. The barrel banged against his bony hip.

Cold steel – that’s all these savages understand Jenny and I reckon I’ll be ready to communicate if I have to. He smiled, patting the bulge below his navel. Jenny stood motionless with her eyes closed

Jackson poked at the coals for a moment and softly placed the last few sticks of wood in a crisscross pattern. He rambled until the sun vanished, revealing a diamond speckled sky.  He rolled out the narrow bedding of woven hair, poured the sand from his boots, slipped them back on, leaned back and adjusted his pack beneath his head.

Can you hear it Jenny? Can you hear the waterfalls? Ahh, I can. We’re almost there. By this time tomorrow we’ll be—

The frigid blade pressed against his neck halted his thoughts. Jackson clinched his jaw, slowly swallowed and waited. Seconds passed like cold molasses as the knife grew warm against his throat.

You have medallion? Chief Ouray finally spoke, his broken English sounding like music to Jackson’s ears.

Yes. Jackson answered, without moving, It’s in the bag under my head.

Show me. the chief sheathed his weapon and stood, allowing Jackson to move.

Not a soul knows about it. Jackson whispered as he sat up. Well, I mean none of `em knows the truth of the matter. He rummaged through the soft leather pouch, I kept my mouth shut and came straight here, just like you told me. His calloused hand clutched the crystal and his heart skipped a beat. There she is. He held the stone out for the chief to inspect.

Chief Ouray grabbed the gemstone, his brown fingers stretching to accommodate its size. Jackson watched as the Ute leader methodically turned the quartz, marveling at the clear finish reflecting the night sky.

It looks like a diamond, don’t it? Jackson chuckled, It sure fooled me and you know what they say, there ain’t no fool like an old fool, huh chief? the Indian made no acknowledgement of the questions. I sacrificed everything I owned – traded lock stock and barrel for a worthless piece of quartz. Jackson’s large palms hissed as he rubbed them briskly. That’s what they think.  But you say this here stone is worth more than all the gold and diamonds in the world? 

The chief gave a silent nod.

Jackson clapped his hands and cackled, The whole territory laughed at poor ole D.J. Jackson, turns out the joke is on them, right chief? The chief continued to ignore his babbling. I truly intended to kill the scoundrel that hoodwinked me – I would have killed him if you hadn’t come along and swayed me.

No one knows? Ouray asked, his gaze fixed on the stone.

Nope. No one.

Jackson sure?

Heck yeah, I’m sure. In the two days it took to cross them hills I ain’t seen nobody but Jenny. It’s nothin’ but a fool’s stone as far as the townsfolk and miners are concerned.

Jenny? the chief turned his face to Jackson, his eyes wide and shimmering in the moonlight. 

Jenny’s my horse. Jackson answered nodding toward the sleeping mare, She don’t talk to anyone but me.

Hmm. Ouray grunted and slipped the stone inside a pouch tied to his waist.

Wait a minute fella. Jackson’s eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened, I brought you the medallion but you haven’t shown me the treasure. He eased his hand toward the revolver in his trousers but froze when an arrow whistled by and plunged into the sand beside him.

The chief looked past Jackson and gave a quick shake of his head.

You rascal! Jackson’s nostrils flared, A deal is a deal. You better not—

Ouray shoved a flat palm in Jackson’s direction to silence him. At sunrise look. the chief pointed in the direction of the waterfalls. You will see. Come then.

Jackson strained against the darkness, seeing only a jagged line where the mountains met the sky.

I don’t see anything. What am I supposed to look for? Jackson’s question hung in silence as Chief Ouray’s shadow disappeared over the dunes.

EAGERNESS AND ANNOYANCE pricked every nerve in his body causing