Free Crown of Dust by Mary Volmer

Men from rocks. She takes a sip. Water from wine. Her head feels very large. She pulls away from the hand tugging at her flannel. New. She feels new. The Golden Boy Alex. She turns to find Preacher John pointing at his Bible as if trying to spear the words with his fingernail.
    â€œYou read?”
    Alex nods her head yes and Preacher says, “’Course not, no,” and begins pointing out every word as he reads, tugging on Alex’s arm now and then to regain her attention.
    â€œWhoever sows sp-spar-sparingly,” Preacher reads, “will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows gener-ous generous-ly will also reap generously. God loves a cheerful giver.”
    Preacher nods furiously and Alex finds her head bobbing right along. “A cheerful giver,” Preacher says again as Limpy leans over.
    â€œNow, Preacher, you’re not bothering the boy, are you?” He takes the empty cup from Alex’s hand and gives her another rum. “Me and Alex have business, you understand. Business.”
    â€œBusiness,” says Alex, and s ’s tickle her tongue. “Generosity and righteousness,” Preacher says, still tugging on Alex’s sleeve. Limpy pulls her away. He drapes his great arm like a yoke across her shoulder.
    â€œGenerosity. All well and good,” he says. “But men like us have to look out for our own interests, Alex. Drink up now, attaboy. Been thinking real hard ’bout you, son, all night, real hard. Always had a good feeling ’bout-chah. It’s a gift. Always could tell an honest man by lookin’, and I liked the look of you. From day one, boy, ask anyone, ask David. ‘Got luck riding with him,’ I tells him. David’s got skill, but you need both.”
    â€œI say I was feeling lucky tonight?” yells Micah, and a groan sounds from the men at his table, David, John Thomas, Harry and Fred among them.
    â€œSee there?” says Limpy, pointing to Micah’s table. “David thinks he’s got some sort of talent for cards, but he only ever wins enough to keep him playing. Now what’s that tell you?”
    She’s not sure that tells her anything, but she hears the word boy wafting from the table and smiles because boy means her, Alex, Golden Boy.
    â€œYou listening to me, son? Alex? Could be very important to your future. Partners, you understand, but not equal. No. I understand you was the one found the gold, and that’s most important, no doubt. But can’t do much on your own, can you? Wouldn’t know where to begin, would yah? Thirds is what I’m thinking, with you keeping any nugget bigger than a chispa, as should be. Know what a chispa is? No? Anything bigger than your big toenail, in my book. Now, some will tell you big as the whole toe, but I’m a fair man. An honest man. Like you.
    â€œLook at me when I’m talking to you, boy, ’cause some would have you sell the claim, see. Them over there—” He waves his hand in the general direction of Micah’s table. “Give you pennies for it. Already planning to scoop up all the land on either side, which is yours by right, once you strike gold. And with me and David claiming side by side, sure to keep that gold in the family, you understand. That’s how I think of you: family. David, too. Said himself you reminded him of his brother back in Cornwall.”
    â€œJed,” Micah hollers. “Jed, you send that boy over with a dram o’ rum. And fill it good, too. Hell! Can you smell the luck, boys?”
    â€œHere now, Alex—look here, Alex,” says Limpy. “Wouldn’t have saved your ass in the clearing if we didn’t think fondly of yah. It’s what’s important. Family. Trust.”
    â€œCome on, boy! Don’t have all night, and no telling when the luck runs out!” yells Micah. Alex finds the word family lingering between her ears and a fresh cup in her hand.
    â€œYou ain’t