“I’m surprised you let them go,” he said, keeping his voice low.
“I think I might have a use for them yet. Only they won’t like it very much.”
“Are we done here?”
“For now. Heston and his friends are too strong,” Cord said. “We’ll let them grow confident and lazy. Maybe take a few of the packtrains coming over from the coast. There’ll be a lot of money in goods when word of a new strike spreads.”
“No gold, though?” John looked unhappy. Gold was easy to spend; trade goods would need a buyer, and they wouldn’t get top dollar for those.
“No gold yet,” Cord said. “I think we’ll let Jacob and Dunlap worry about that for now. Then we’ll settle our debts with them.”
“The others might not like it,” John said. He looked back over his shoulder at the rest of the gang. “Some of them will talk about following Jacob.”
“They won’t like it at first, but a wagonload of goods won’t have any guards. It’ll be simple work. We can go back to just our usual crew.”
“What about Saul and Teale?”
Saul and Teale had died during the siege, along with four of the new men John had recruited.
“If need be, we’ll replace them.” They still had three new recruits. One, Crenshaw, showed promise. He’d shown more initiative and brains than the others. Not enough to be dangerous, not like Jacob, but enough to be useful. “Keep Crenshaw. I don’t care about the other two. Cut them loose.”
John gave him a dubious look. “They might talk.”
“Kill them if you want. There’s nothing they can say that could hurt us.”
They’d ridden up on a ridgeline, and Bannen looked back down into the valley. In the far distance he could see the damned cabin and barn. They’d come so close, mere moments away from having it all.
Now they were laughing at him down there. Laughing at his failure.
They’d put a bullet into the cowboy. Cord knew a great deal about bullet wounds: the shot hadn’t been a mortal one, but he’d be out of action for a long time.
“I hope it hurts,” Cord said. “And I hope you remember me every time it does.”
There would be another chance. Another way to take the gold. He would just have to wait. Wait and be ready when the time came.
Chapter 24
“I just don’t like it,” Jim said. He and Captain Neill sat their horses on a low bench, looking across Donovan’s Valley toward the south side.
Six months had wrought a great deal of change in their quiet valley. The peaceful little stream was crowded shoulder-to-shoulder with men dipping pans and shovels like so many ants or bees. It now ran so dark and muddy even the waters of the lake were stained a dirty gray. Most of the trees on the valley’s southern slope had been felled and stripped to build houses and buildings. Not that most were even wood. Like Bidwell’s, most of the miners lived in mud-stained tents. There were five black maws in the mountain. The deepest belonged to the Donovan Mining Company, and David had named it the Foundry. Several other big mining outfits had sunk their own shafts a respectful distance away. Donovan Mining held a good deal of acreage within its claims. Two of the newer shafts had shown color, two had not. Those that had failed to show had sold several times after the original owners gave up. Each time brought new capital, grand dreams, a flurry of furious activity, and ultimately another sale when those dreams failed.
“Change is hard,” Neill answered. “It’s the way of things to grow, to change, to progress.”
“This doesn’t feel like progress. I feel like one of those plains Indians watching the vanishing buffalo.”
“You aiming to ride down and scalp a few miners?” Neill cracked a smile.
“No,” Jim said. He considered Neill for a long moment. The man couldn’t be any happier with the changes. “Since when did you turn into a philosopher?”
“Since I sobered up.” Neill leaned over to spit a wad of tobacco on the ground. “Or maybe before. Most drunkards are philosophical at heart. Not much else to think on when you’re in the bottle. This isn’t all bad. You’re a wealthy man now. We both are.”
It was true, and it angered Jim that he couldn’t argue it. He and Neill and David were all rich now, families included. True, most of the early profit had been fed back into the operation—mills and men and rail and carts were all expensive—but as of a month ago, the mine was paying out a handsome amount to the three owners.
“What are your plans?” Neill said.
“Plans?” The question took Jim aback for a moment. At first he’d planned on a ranch in the mountains. That plan was now ruined. The stream was too muddy for cattle and the lush grass had been trampled and churned into endless gray mud by so many greedy feet.
He’d sold what few cattle remained. If he hadn’t, the miners would have killed them anyway.
The wolf came out of the woods near them.
Neill nodded to the stocky beast. “I can’t believe no one’s shot him yet.”
“He’s too smart for that,” Jim said. “Keeps close to the cabin or in the deep woods.”
“Won’t be much deep woods left in another few months. They’re going through lumber like angry beavers.”
“Donovan’s Valley, ruined. What would he say about it?”
Neill smiled at him. “No help for it. If you hadn’t found the gold, someone else would have.”
“You ever decide if Donovan knew about it?” Jim and Neill had considered the question often in the last few months.
“He never mentioned it to me. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t know,” Neill allowed.
“He described this valley as a green paradise. Doesn’t look much like one now.”
A twinge shot through Jim’s shoulder. He swung his left arm around in a slow circle. He felt the joint pop and ache. Despite half a year of recovery, it still hurt. Especially now that the mornings were growing colder.
