“And where is Jack?”
“I haven’t—”
“Dead. He’s dead.”
A man Cord didn’t recognize separated himself from the crowd. He was a spare man, lean, and he walked with an animal’s grace.
“And you are?”
“Miles.”
“Miles, you mind telling me how you and these others come to be here?” Cord asked.
“Jack Riker said you needed men. Said you had a line on some easy money. Something about that new strike in Bidwell’s Bar.”
“He said that, did he?”
“He did. Said you did well in Sutter’s. Said you came over the trail together.”
“Seems like Jack’s done a lot of talking.” Cord’s tone turned icy. He felt the rage building. What else had Jack said? He looked at Miles and the other men. He knew men like this, ruthless and cunning. Knew what they wanted and knew what they thought because he himself was one.
“He did. Then Jack got hisself killed over in Onionville. Tried robbing the general store and got greedy. Thought he could take it on his own. He might have gotten away with it, but some damned settler busted in and killed him.”
“Bad luck for Jack.” Cord smiled. From the corner of his eye, he saw John and the rest of his chosen men slowly back away from him and Miles. They knew him well. Too bad Miles didn’t.
“Good luck for me, though,” Miles said. . “See, I brought all these men here, so I figure we’ll go in, say sixty-forty split. You’ve got the plan and I’ve got all the guns.”
The camp was quiet now. Every eye was locked on them.
“You’ve got all the guns? I seem to be wearing one.” Cord opened his coat just enough to reach his pistol.
“Well, not quite all,” Miles said. “But I’ve sure got enough of them.”
“Not quite all,” Cord echoed and drew.
The move was quick as a striking viper. One second they were talking, the gun hanging in its holster, the next it was in Cord’s fist, smoke rolling from the barrel.
More smoke came from the hole in Miles’ forehead. He was dead long before he hit the ground.
“Jesus,” one of the men behind Miles said. The fellow had a coonskin hat. Cord put a bullet into the coonskin and then he too was dead.
The rest of Cord’s men opened up then, firing and screaming.
It took less than a minute. Thirteen dead bodies littered the clearing, and now they were down to the proper count.
Cord reloaded and holstered his gun.
“John, you and Liev strip the dead. I doubt they have much, but we’ll take their horses. They’ll bring something, even mangy as they are.”
“Do we need another man to replace Jack?” John said.
“For what I have planned, we’ll need a couple. I’m sure we can find them around the camp. Gold tends to draw that type.” Cord booted the body before him in the ribs. “And not these wannabe toughs, either. We need real fighters.”
“You’ve got something big in mind, then?”
“I do. We took scraps at Sutter’s. This time I want more, something that lasts. This time we’re going into the mining business.”
“I don’t know much about mining,” John said, and spat.
“We won’t need to know. All we have to do is find the right claim.” Cord smiled at him. “Then we’ll be in business.”
Chapter 6
“This is where I found it,” Jim said. He stood in ankle-deep water. The lightning-struck tree was just across from him.
“Likely a place as any,” David said with a shrug.
They didn’t have a proper mining pan, only a shovel and a heavy Dutch oven borrowed from Abigail’s kitchen.
Jim sifted the first shovelful into the pan. David knelt over it, swirling the water and plucking out the bigger rocks. Taking up a second, smaller shovelful, Jim squatted on his haunches and tried to imitate his father-in-law.
David was quiet for a long time. Jim sorted through the first shovelful, then a second. He didn’t see anything. Had he been wrong? Had the nugget just been a lucky find?
Finally, David let out a breath. He pointed into the pan and said, “Look.”
Jim leaned over his shoulder. Just beyond David’s finger were several small yellow flakes.
“That’s it?” Jim said. He’d been expecting more nuggets, not flakes.
