DeMourey was outside, reaching for the door, keys in hand, when Cord approached. Cord had never met DeMourey before, never spoken to him, though he’d seen him around town. The dour man gave a little jump at the sudden appearance of the gunmen.
“Gentlemen, I’m just closing up for the day,” DeMourey said.
“That’s unfortunate,” Cord said. “We had some rather urgent business to discuss with you.”
The keys in DeMourey’s hand rattled, and Hawk and Saul moved to box him in. DeMourey looked out over them, searching for help perhaps, but the street was empty now—shift change at the mines—and even if there had been people, none would have interfered.
“We’d like to talk to you inside,” Cord said.
DeMourey glanced from Saul to Hawk and then back to Cord again. His eyes lingered on their guns. “The office guards should be here soon.”
“We won’t bother him none,” Cord said. The assay office had only a single night guard, a half-blind old man with a scattergun. Tempting as the assay office safe was, Cord had little interest in it. He knew little of safecracking. His only attempt at it resulted in a blown-up safe and no payoff. Besides, compared to a mine shipment, a safe wouldn’t amount to much, and against the far greater prize Cord sought, it was nothing at all. “I’m afraid I’ll have to insist.”
DeMourey was afraid now. Cord could smell it on him. Reluctantly, he opened the door and led them inside. When Hawk closed the door behind them, he sighed and gave Cord a perplexed look. “You don’t appear to be miners, so I’m guessing you aren’t here looking to sell. If your thoughts are on my safe, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. I rarely keep over a hundred in there for precisely this reason.”
Cord smiled at the obvious lie. This fool thought he knew so much.
DeMourey sat down behind his desk, and Cord took the chair across from him. Saul and Hawk remained standing on either side.
“My friends and I are not interested in your safe. However, we are very interested in your earlier business dealings.”
“I do a great deal of business. I buy gold and this—” DeMourey lifted his hands to either side. “This is a gold camp.”
“I’m referring to the cowboy. The one who was just in here.”
“Ah,” DeMourey said. “I didn’t even catch the young man’s name. He wanted a job, and I didn’t have one for him.”
“He wasn’t selling gold then?” Cord took out his knife and began cleaning beneath his fingernails.
DeMourey eyed the knife, his eyes lingering on the blade. “No. He only wanted a job.”
“Funny thing, to carry in those heavy saddlebags if all he wanted was to ask for a job. Funnier still that they seemed a good deal lighter when he left,” Cord grinned. Of course, he hadn’t seen the cowboy come in, but this fool couldn’t know that. “Strange, too, that you locked the door while he was in here.”
Cord twisted his head enough to see Hawk. “Didn’t you think that was odd, Hawk?”
Hawk spit on the floor and said, “Damned odd.”
Cord smiled. “Saul isn’t much of a talker, but I’m sure he would agree.”
Saul only grunted.
DeMourey sat silent for a minute, then sighed again. He spread his hands on the desk. “Whatever business I had with the young man is between us. I cannot—”
Cord growled and slammed the knife into the back of DeMourey’s left hand. The blade sunk deep, fully to the hilt, pinning the hand in place. DeMourey screamed, or tried to. Saul suddenly had one hand wrapped tight over his mouth and the other around his neck. His breath became quick and ragged.
“People just keep telling me what I can’t do today,” Cord said. “Can’t…I don’t care for the word.” He waited for DeMourey’s muffled screams to falter, then said, “Now why don’t you tell me about that cowboy? I’d like to know how much he had. Where he’s from. All of it.”
DeMourey trembled from the pain.
Cord waited another moment, then let out a sigh of his own. “Hawk, hand me your knife. Mine is being used.”
Hawk passed over his own belt knife and Cord went back to working on his nails. “Mr. DeMourey, a one-handed assayer is still of use, but a man with two bum hands…well, I’m not sure he’d be up to continue his job. What do you think?”
DeMourey’s eyes were wild. He yanked his right hand behind his back.
“Hawk,” Cord said.
The outlaw moved around the desk and grabbed DeMourey’s arm, forcing it flat against the top. After fighting for a moment, DeMourey suddenly sagged. Tears ran down his cheeks and his face was pale white. Blood trickled from around Cord’s knife.
“Are you ready to do business now?” Cord asked. “All I need are a few answers.”
DeMourey nodded.
Chapter 10
Eager to be away from the crowds of camp, Jim pushed the Appaloosa hard.
This time he avoided the river entirely, heading south and west down the trail to San Francisco. Like the camp, the trail was crowded. From above, men must have looked like ants, walking almost on top of each other. Only a few were headed in his direction, mostly teams of mules or empty packhorses. A few seemed like desperate, down-on-their luck souls who’d given their all for a chance at finding gold only to come up empty. There had been more of these laying in the muddy streets of Bidwell’s Bar.
The sun passed behind the mountains and as the land darkened, the travelers grew scarce. A few carried torches or oil lanterns to light their way, and more trailed in their wakes, like ducklings following their mother. Most didn’t bother. They camped wherever they were, some sleeping on rock or laid back against trees, others setting up sheets of canvas to repel any evening rain.
Jim waited until the trail emptied, then turned east off the trail and up into a dry gulch. Higher and higher he rode until he topped out on a long barren rise. He followed the rise east as it snaked along. The night became chill and sharp.
“Time to find a place to build a fire,” he said to no one.
A mile farther on, he dropped off the rise to follow an ancient game trail. The trail was wide and well worn. Bits of coarse hair hung on the trunks and branches of trees on either side. Thankfully, none looked like grizzly fur.
Back in Donovan’s Valley, Jim had seen several of the colossal bears from afar. They didn’t seem to bother the cattle, preferring berries or nuts or whatever they caught after rolling over fallen logs and peeling the bark free. Donovan once told him that beyond a few yards they had poor sight, especially in the daytime, but their sense of smell was second to none.
