Jim paid the hostler in advance and said, “Brush him down, but keep him ready. Double ration of feed. I’ll be back soon enough.”
“Will do,” the man said, and took the Appaloosa into a nearby stall.
The street was quiet, and this time, Jim had no trouble crossing.
DeMourey was sitting at his desk when Jim stepped into the assay office. He had a thick bandage wrapped around one hand, and the assayer wasn’t alone. Two armed men stood in the back of the room, both watching Jim with narrowed eyes.
“I didn’t think you’d come back this way,” DeMourey said.
“Friends of yours?” Jim said.
“Protection. Business has gotten a little more…dangerous in camp.”
“I’ve more to sell this time.” Jim set the saddlebags on the table. He didn’t bother to sit. He didn’t like the thought of armed men standing behind him. Not with so much gold sitting out in the open.
DeMourey’s eyes widened at the sight of the heavy bags. They widened farther when he opened the first flap.
“Is this?” he said, and hefted the flour sack of ore.
“All of it,” Jim answered. Seven thousand dollars’ worth, by David’s reckoning. Ellen’s own figures matched it.
DeMourey dutifully went through each sack’s contents, weighing, recording, and finally summing it all up on a tally sheet. “Seven thousand three hundred,” he announced at the end. “I don’t have nearly that much cash here,” he said.
“I figured as much,” Jim said. “I’ll take another thousand in cash, plus a note for the rest.”
The assayer produced a roll of bills, which he counted out, then wrote out a note for the rest. He scribbled something on a piece of paper, added it to the pile, and handed the stack to Jim.
“The address of my bank in San Francisco,” DeMourey said, “and the name of another buyer there, if you’re interested. He’ll pay you a few dollars more than I can. I don’t feel right about holding so much here.”
Jim nodded. “Thanks.”
“Calvin, would you and Dale step outside for a moment?” DeMourey said. “I’d like to have a private conversation with my friend here.”
“Yes, sir,” the bigger of the two guards said.
When they were gone, and the door closed behind them, DeMourey lowered his voice and said, “Be careful out there. Just after you left, I had some visitors. They were quite interested in you.”
“Red?” Jim said.
“No. Another man, with two gunhands, as well. They gave me this—” DeMourey held up his bandaged hand, “when I couldn’t answer their questions.”
Jim frowned. He hadn’t told DeMourey anything of use. He’d been careful not to. No one outside the family knew where the gold was. What could the assayer have told them?
“I didn’t have anything to say, of course,” DeMourey shrugged. “I know nothing, and I don’t want to.”
“That’s why you have the guards.”
“Yes. This man, the one who asked the questions, he seemed quite dangerous. I haven’t seen him in town, but I suspect I don’t go to the type of places he frequents,” DeMourey said.
“You haven’t seen him since? He didn’t ask you to tell him if you saw me again?”
“He did. He said to send word to him at the Bent Nail Saloon when you return.”
Jim’s eyes narrowed. “And will you?”
“Certainly not. I would never betray a customer’s trust,” DeMourey said. “The following day, I hired these two and two more to protect my interests. I simply wanted to warn you of the danger.”
“Thank you,” Jim said. “I’ll look for your partner if I decide on San Francisco next time.”
DeMourey stood and they shook hands.
Then Jim tucked the money into his pants pockets and slung the empty saddlebags over his shoulder. Stepping out into the morning, he eyed the two guards, who stood vigil on either side of the door.
The sky was cloudy now, a high sheet of white cutting the sun’s glare. There were more people on the street, but not nearly so many as on his first visit.
Jim went to the stables and retrieved his horse from the hostler. He’d planned on buying a few supplies before he left, along with a packhorse, but with people asking questions—possibly watching the assay office—he couldn’t afford more time in camp. The quicker he could be home, the better.
“Double ration, just like you asked,” the hostler said.
“Can I buy a few pounds of oats from you?” Jim asked.
“Sure, ten pounds for a dollar. I’ll sack it up for you.”
“Fair enough.” Jim waited until the man’s back was turned, then pulled out the roll of bills to count out what was needed.
With the Appaloosa walking behind him, Jim started for the edge of town. He watched the miners as he passed through. More had recovered from last night’s celebration, and the streets already felt crowded. Jim felt like the roll of cash in his pocket was a beacon, drawing them in. He had to be free of this place. He had to get home. The Appaloosa had carried a lot of weight on the way here, but they could still travel quickly.
Jim would need time to cover his trail, and he had a few ideas about that. If he followed the main road in from San Francisco, the passing of his horse would be easily lost in the tracks of so many others.
