The pain in Gustav's foot was not enough to break his hold on her, but it was enough to bring him back to himself, the polite young man that had admired the ebony beauty from his shyness.  He could see the fear turn to anger as she ripped her arm from his lightening grip, it was his turn to be surprised as she shoved him down, her speed and strength catching him off balance.  Dragging him to the top of the stairs where their altercation became clear for all to see.  Normally he would have died of embarrassment at being so publicly shamed by a woman he had admired so, but these were not normal times.  He regained his feet, starting halfway down the stairs at the strength of her rebuke and demand.  He could feel the eyes of the tavern upon him but still he stopped and turned back to look up at Victoria.  "They're all dead!"  He yelled back up at her.  "It wasn't the cave in that killed them, they killed each other."  His anger was building again but the hot flame had no more fuel to consume in him.  He was exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally.  He collapsed on the stairs, weeping like a child, confused at his anger, his lust, and his inability to understand what was going on around him.  "They should have lived..."<br/><br/>***<br/><br/>Before the undertaker came to claim his charges, a lone figure slipped quietly out from between the buildings and climbed easily upon the wagon.  Tahoma had been watching the mine from a distance, doing what he could do thwart their progress, though he hadn't been responsible for the collapse.  He was curious to understand what had happened, why the digging had stopped and the dash down the mountain with a load of dead men rather than ore.  He didn't know much about mining, but had been in enough battles to recognize the aftermath of men killing men.  The wounds told the tale as well as any voice could, these men had been in a brutal battle to the death.  White men were crazy, he knew that well enough, but this seemed beyond normal even for them.<br/><br/>Climbing down from the wagon he walked cautiously towards the Dusky Belle, his clothes wouldn't betray his Navajo identity too readily, but it wouldn't take much of a look to know he didn't belong here.  He needed a better idea of what was going on, so he felt he needed to risk the tavern.  He went in quietly, staying to the edges of the room, grateful that a handful of new comers seemed to be the focus of most of the attention.  He got a little more bold as a commotion began to erupt near the top of the stairs.  He watched and listened, keeping to himself as best he could.