“No,” Jim said. “If anyone can sort out where the gold is coming from, it’ll be her.”
“What do I know about gold?” Ellen protested.
“You don’t need to know a thing,” Jim said. Then he smiled and said, “After all, you’re the luckiest person I know.”
Ellen looked perplexed. “And why is that?”
“You married me.” Jim laughed, and the others joined in.
Chapter 12
Alone in his tent, Cord sat at a small table staring at a deck of weather-beaten playing cards. He was often alone lately, and he felt his mood growing ever more morose as the empty days went by. His men, even John, hesitated to come around. They knew what he was like.
His men had failed him. Despite spending a week searching in the area, they had lost the mystery cowboy. Van had gone back where he lost him and found exactly nothing. Cord set the others to searching last week, but one by one they’d all slunk back into camp empty-handed, with nothing to show but excuses.
No one knew who the cowboy was. No one knew where he was from. Several men had seen him ride in. They remembered the speckled horse, but little about the rider. The men working for Sven Larkspur, the claim farthest upriver, saw him come down from the mountain. Sven said he’d ridden in from the east and seemed surprised to see them there.
Cord’s fist rattled the table. Cards scattered to the floor. No one knew anything else. No one knew where the gold was. He opened a bottle of rotgut and took a slug. It burned all the way down, and it did not improve his mood.
Dunlap, too, had failed him. Not only had he not found the cowboy, he’d come up dry on finding any other mine Cord could move in on. He hadn’t even found them anything worthwhile to steal just to keep the men occupied.
Jacob and the Swede were becoming a problem, one that would have to be dealt with. Jacob’s insolence grew by the day. He thought he should be the one calling the shots. Cord should have killed them. He needed the pair, though; they weren’t like the men he’d cut down in the clearing. These two were hard, tough men. They would not die without costing Cord several of his own. Also, when the time finally came to take over a mine, they would prove useful. After that, he’d kill them, Jacob first and the Swede afterward.
Noise outside interrupted his thoughts. Cord rose, opening the tent flap, and stepped out into a bright afternoon. John was coming down into the hollow where they camped.
With a smile plastered on his face, John rode straight for Cord. He dismounted, took off his hat, and came close.
“Found something out about your missing cowboy,” John said.
Cord’s expectations rose, and he fought down the feeling. He’d been let down before. He had to keep control of himself.
“What did you find?” Cord asked.
“Dunlap missed it,” John said. “The cowboy bought something from the store.”
Cord considered that for a moment. It made sense he’d resupply. Especially if he’d struck it big. John seemed like he had more to tell. “What sort of thing?”
“A few yards of cloth.” John hesitated. He tucked his hands into his belt and rocked back on his heels.
“Cloth? Not canvas, but cloth?” Cord said. Cloth was not something a miner would buy. Canvas perhaps, but what use would a man like that have for cloth?
“Patterned cloth. Old Fletcher’s wife said it was ‘pretty.’ She said the cowboy bought enough to make a dress of it.”
A dress. Cord considered that for a moment. A dress implied a woman, and women wanted things. They wanted safety, protection, a home. They weren’t just looking for a mine then, but a cabin. The cowboy wouldn’t just ride off and leave a woman somewhere. Was he from one of the settlements?
If so, it would narrow their search considerably.
He stared at Jacob for a moment. “Good. Now we have something to work with.”
The others were all watching him now, hopeful for a change. Except it wasn’t hope, it was something else, bits of gold dancing in their eyes.
“John, pair the men up and spread out. Search through the settlements. Get word to Van as well. Have Dunlap watch the store and the assay office.”
“That fancy man in the assay office hired himself a set of guards,” Jacob said. “I doubt he’ll let you know if the cowboy returns.”
“That’s why I had Dunlap watching the place. Eager as he was to chase after the cowboy, he’ll let us know.” Cord raised his voice to his men so they could all hear him. “We’ll have our gold soon, not a few bags of it, but a whole mine full.”
It was a lie, of course. But he would let them think otherwise. He might even allow them, those that he didn’t kill outright, to have a taste of it. They could have their scraps and be content with them. In the end, he would be the only one to walk away with the real riches.
* * * *
Jim thought he knew a better way into Bidwell’s Bar. He camped almost due west of town, less than five miles away. He hadn’t wanted to return to Bidwell’s, especially given the higher prices in San Francisco, but the coast was a long way off, a journey of several days. Most of the gold they’d found was stuffed into the Appaloosa’s saddlebags, and traveling so far with so much was too big a risk.
Passing through sleeping miners, he rode into Bidwell’s with the bright dawn. He stopped at the stables and dismounted. Then he eyed the town. Though only a few weeks had passed, Bidwell’s had changed considerably since he’d been here last. The streets were empty—no streaming crowds this time—and on the ride in, he counted eight new buildings.
“Wasn’t sure we’d see you again,” the hostler said when he took the Appaloosa’s reins. “Not after your run-in with Red.”
“For a minute, I wasn’t so sure either.”
The hostler flashed him a toothy smile. “You won’t have any trouble today. Not with that lot. Most everyone in town is sleeping off a good drunk.”
“Any reason for the celebration?”
“They don’t need much of a reason. Rumor though…someone upriver hit a nice pocket.”
“Good for them,” Jim said.
The hostler grimaced and shook his head. “From the amount of drinking last night, I bet they spent it all in one throw.”
