Rudolph Wurlitzer - The Drop Edge of Yonder

She headed for a saloon across the square. When she suddenly sank to her knees, Zebulon and Hatchet Jack lifted her up and carried her to a table.

She sat without speaking, staring numbly at the crowd as if through a pane of smoky glass. The entire population of Calabasas Springs was gathered in the town square, as well as families and hands from the outlying ranches and the Australians and other Argonauts camping outside of town. Musicians played guitars and violins, and children ran in and out of the crowd and around the tables piled with food and drink. The Australians, who had mostly been rejected by the local women, danced with each other or by themselves.

An Australian ex-convict with an X branded on his forehead, stumbled up to the table where Delilah sat. Staring at her, he spread a hand through a mince pie and then slowly licked each finger.

"I have a bet you're for sale," he said.

"She's not a slave and she ain't for sale," Hatchet Jack replied.

The Australian shrugged. "That's not what I been hearing."

He sauntered off towards a bunch of newly arrived Argonauts from Alabama who were pulling down a Mexican flag from the top of a pole. As they stomped and urinated on the flag, they were joined by other miners, all singing:

When Hatchet Jack and Zebulon walked over, several men threatened them with pistols, then pulled Delilah from her chair. They dragged her to an oak tree, where one of them bound her wrists while another threw a rope over one of the branches.

"Hold on!" Hatchet Jack shouted, pushing his way towards them. "This woman is not some mail-order slave you can do what you want with…. She's a princess with noble blood hailing from King Solomon's ranch down there in West Texas. She's the daughter of an English general, a purebred queen of the Amazon. More than that, she's a god-fearing Christian who knows how to cook and roll biscuits and pray to the Lord!"

Hatchet Jack pointed at Zebulon. "Does this man look like he would put his brand on a slave? Hell no! He's an alcalde! A man of the law from San Francisco. Do you particulate what that means? He's here on business, appointed by the Governor General of the State of Californie to fix the corruption of the mines, as well as to get himself hitched in the town's church to this woman whose neck you're about to stretch. If you people mess with an alcalde you're messin' direct with the State of Californie, or my name ain't Lorenzo de Calderon Vazquez de Gama."

The Australian spat on the ground. "And I'm sayin' that you're a horse-thieving half-breed. The only way this black whore will get herself hitched is in the court of hell."

His companion slipped the noose over Delilah's head while another carried over a chair for her to stand on. With a loud "Hurrah," they lifted her up.

Delilah spoke her last words to Zebulon and Hatchet Jack: "Let go whatever comes, good or bad. And when your time is up don't leave a mess behind."

Before the chair could be pulled out, four caballeros in black velvet suits embroidered with silver trim, entered the square from the cathedral, carrying an open Chinese palanquin on their shoulders. An ancient figure sat in the middle of the palanquin in an ornate armchair, his frail body wrapped inside a black cloak. A dozen well-armed vaqueros rode behind him.

Even though Don Luis Arragosa was over a hundred years old and half-paralyzed by a recent stroke, his presence commanded attention. As the last titled owner of one of the few remaining great Spanish ranches in California, he remained a beloved symbol of past glories to the Mexican population of Calabasas Springs.

After the caballeros lowered the palanquin to the ground, Don Luis sat quietly; contemplating Delilah as she balanced herself on the chair. Finally he spoke in a hoarse, barely audible whisper: "It is a sacrilege and sin to be disturbed in prayer, particularly at this sacred time of the year."

When several of the Australians objected, Don Luis raised a hand for silence.

"What crime has this woman committed?"

"She broke the law," replied one of the Australian exconvicts.

"Whose law?"

"Our law," said another Australian. "The only law that counts. She struck one of us with her quirt for no reason. The woman is a slave and a whore. What else does anyone need to know?"

Don Luis turned to Delilah. "What is your response to this charge?"

Delilah straightened her shoulders, pointing at her accuser. "As I was riding into town, this man grabbed the reins of my horse and demanded that I engage in a carnal act with him. He treated me like a prostitute, so I slashed him with my quirt, and I would be pleased to do it again. It was not my intention, nor was it that of my companions, to cause trouble. We have more important matters to deal with."

"And what are those matters?" Don Luis asked.

"To witness the death of my husband, Count Ivan Baranofsky, who, as you must have heard, has been unjustly sentenced to hang."

Don Luis turned to the Australians. "You are sadly mistaken if you think that you can ride into this town like drunken San Francisco vigilantes and commit whatever outrage suits you. It is one thing to rape and pillage the country in a compulsive quest for gold — a quest, I might add, that will soon be exhausted — but it is quite another matter to violate a woman, no matter her color or race or religion. This woman was defending her honor. And you, Sir, obviously have no honor."

Exhausted, Don Luis sank back in his armchair.

The local population, along with the Chileans and Peruvians, surged forward, expressing their approval. For a moment it seemed that fighting would break out, but the caballeros held their ground, pointing their rifles at the Australians while Zebulon and Hatchet Jack removed the noose from Delilah's head and helped her down from the chair.

Don Luis sighed. "There will be only one hanging in Calabasas Springs, and that act will take place the day after tomorrow at six o'clock in the evening. To my mind, the decision is unfortunate: but it is the law, no matter if one agrees or disagrees."

An Anglo miner stepped forward.

"Know one thing, old man. There's a new bunch comin' to town, not to mention pourin' into this whole side of the country — immigrants, businessmen, scoundrels, all kinds, you can be sure of that. They're rollin' in every day. There's no stoppin" em, and none of 'em give a good goddamn what you think. Them old days when your people held the cards are over. Best thing for you is to stay out of the way"

"I don't disagree," Don Luis said. "This country has certainly been invaded by barbarians who offer us only selfish ambition and greed. But I will make you a promise. If my men ever see you or any of your companions in Calabasas Springs again, even once, they will shoot you like rabid dogs."

Don Luis' chin sagged to his chest. No one was sure if he was still breathing until he raised a claw-like hand, and four caballeros picked up the palanquin and carried it to a waiting carriage.

Before the carriage rode away, a caballero rode back to Delilah. "Don Luis asks that you and your friends join him at his ranch, where he will be pleased to welcome you for the night."

"You two go on," Hatchet Jack said. "After I grab some shut eye, I'm gettin' rid of this town and everything that goes with it.

He looked at Delilah. "Including you and your Count."

fter the carriage drove off, Zebulon and Delilah were escorted to Don Luis' hacienda. None of the remaining Argonauts believed Hatchet Jack's explanation that Zebulon was an alcalde. A few even suspected that he was the outlaw, Zebulon Shook, recently written about in The San Francisco Star. And if that were the case, there was bound to be a reward for his capture as well as for that of his Abyssinian whore.