SALT! *
"You know who's back in town and lookin' for you?" Big John
Thompson, owner and bartender of the Magnolia, the biggest and busiest
saloon in Coulterville, blurted it out. It was the way he usually opened a
conversation - no hesitating around the edges - he just jumped right in.
George Tiscovia turned from depositing his hat atop the huge iron safe
against the front wall, his grin quizzical but not quite carefree.
"Doesn't look like a husband does he?"
"Aw, cut it out. Naw, it's them two young scalawags was in here last
fall. You remember, it was just before the two of 'em, or somebody, dug up
that treasure under the hangin' tree. Claimed it wasn't them,
though."
"How'd you find that out?"
"I ast 'em, how else? Says they didn't know nothin' about it, but I
don't believe 'em. You want a beer?"
George nodded. "I never could resist a salesman." George drove
the passenger stage, and the eight-horse team that pulled it, from
Coulterville, in the California foothills, to world-famous Yosemite Valley
and return. So it was a few days, and another round trip for George,
before the young men caught up with him. And not surprisingly, when they
did it was in the Magnolia saloon.
Big John was clearly annoyed when George led the two youngsters, after
greetings and handshakes, to a table in the corner, too far from the bar
to be overheard. Nor was John's mood improved by George's taking off and
leaving him hanging, his curiosity unsatisfied, until the next day.
There was no one in the saloon when George came through the swinging
doors, early, and Big John wouldn't even wait until he reached the bar.
"What'd them two want with you, anyways?" Big John stood with
both hands braced on the bar, glaring down from his greater height at the
other man.
George shook his head, his expression dour. "I don't like it, John. I
wish they'd waited to talk to me, first."
"Waited for what?"
"They came back because they'd talked some with the Shinn brothers
when they were here before. Now they've bought that worthless mine the
Shinns owned, the Lost Chance over east of Greeley Hill."
"Hmpf. Why should you care? Nothin' to you, is it?"
"No, not really, but they're nice young fellers. I like 'em, and I'd
hate to see 'em lose all their money, but I guess that's what'll
happen."
Big John shrugged. "It was a good mine once. Rich ore, and it paid
well, but I guess it played out long before the Shinns bought it. Only way
they could, prob'ly. What'd the kids have to give?"
"Six thousand dollars. Pretty much all they had, I reckon. I told 'em
I'd come up and look it over with them, show 'em how to hand drill holes
and set powder. They say the Shinns showed them gold, in place at the
tunnel's end. If it's there I'd bet the Shinns salted the rock face."
"Yep, prob'ly loaded up some gold into a shotgun and fired it at the
tunnel face." Big John shook his head. "Looks pretty real,
shooter knows what he's doin.' Wouldn't be the first time for somebody to
salt a gold mine. Hard to prove, though."
George went on, "The Shinns gave them the pocket country story, too.
Said mines in that area give up gold in pockets, rich concentrations with
stretches of barren rock between. True, as far as it goes, only the Lost
Chance is outside the band where that applies. But they told the boys the
gold they showed them is the edge of a pocket, which is why they're so
excited. I told 'em I'd be up to see them today."
It was worse than George had expected. He was able to pick off the visible
gold, and stayed with Ben and Luke, the two young men, until they'd hand
drilled holes enough for the first blast. He'd placed black powder and set
it off, bringing down a lot of rock but no traces of anything except
quartz and country rock. It took another day for the next shot, with the
same results. Then George faced the two, leaning on an empty ore car at
the end of the main tunnel where shattered rock had been knocked down by
the blast.
"You might as well face it, fellers, you've been took. Saltin' a gold
mine is an old trick, and you fell for it. I'll bet the Shinns are laughin'
theirselves sick."
Ben, the dark-haired, more intense of the two, showed his despair.
"But what can we do, George? We gave them almost all the money we
had. Can't we get it back?"
George straightened. "Not without showing fraud, which you can't
prove. I'm afraid the two of you are stuck."
Luke, the blond one, aimed a kick at the ore car, lost his balance and
fell against it. The car tipped, teetered and settled back on the rails.
George looked at the car, at the rails it sat on, back to Luke and Ben.
His expression was peculiar. "You two want to try something? Could be
a lot of work for nothing."
"Anything, George, if it might get us back our money." That was
Ben, but Luke was nodding. "What do we have to do?"
George didn't get back into the Magnolia again for over a week. He showed
up early one morning, shortly after Big John had opened the iron doors
that protected the saloon when it was closed. Big John hailed George as
the latter cleared the swinging doors. "Hey, you little pipsqueak,
where you been?"
George looked tired, and even his grin was a little worn. "Been
helpin' out those two younguns. Just made a delivery for 'em, over to the
Wells Fargo office."
"Yeah? Whatta you shippin' for 'em?"
"Gold. But not shippin' it. Got a draft from the agent to cover
it."
"Gold? Where'd you git that? Not from the Lost Chance."
"Yep. Sure did."
"How much?"
"Just short of nine thousand."
"Dollars?" And at Georges nod, "Y'r jokin.'"
"Here's the draft," as he held it out.
"I'll be damned. And it all came from the Lost Chance? I thought it
was plumb worked out."
"So did the Shinns." George waved the draft and turned.
"Got to get back and give this to the boys. Don't tell anybody,
huh?"
"Sure not. Them two'll be leavin' town now, huh?"
"Why would they do that? They'll be working the mine." And
George headed for the door.
Knowing Big John, George was sure he couldn't keep the news to himself.
It'd be all over town in an hour or less, and Big John would make sure it
got to the Shinn brothers, a pair George knew he didn't like anyway.
George went on back to the mine, knowing he'd have to get the boys calmed
down and change their minds. They were all set to leave as soon as they
got the draft, but George wasn't through with the Shinns. Not yet.
They showed up at midafternoon. Ben and Luke were in the mine, leaving
George to meet the Shinns. The older brother, Watt, did the talking. He
didn't sound happy. "You, George, where's them two boys? We got to
see 'em, and right now."
"Sorry, fellers, they're busy. I'm their agent, though. Anything I
can do for you?" Like almost everybody hereabouts, George was wearing
a gun, a late-model Colt repeater. Carelessly, his hand hovered close over
the handgrips.
"We been thinkin' it over. We want to buy the mine back."
"How come? Bought it fair and square, didn't they? For cash,
right?"
Watt's voice turned plaintive. "We sold too cheap. We figger they owe
us."
"They don't owe you a dime, and you know it. But they might sell you
the mine back, long as they get a profit. They're not really miners, in it
for the long pull."
"That's not fair!" It burst from Watt. "They already got a
profit. We want the mine back."
"Paid you six thousand, didn't they?"
"Well, yeah, but . . ."
George's voice hardened, riding across Watt's words. "Tell you what,
boys. You bring nine thousand cash up here, before dark, I'll try and talk
the young fellers into selling back to you. I'll get a Bill of Sale signed
and ready."
"What? That's highway robbery! Whatta you think you're doin,'
George?"
The smile on George's face was suddenly wolfish, his eyes hard on Watt's
face. "The same thing you told those young fellers you were doin,'
sellin' the mine at a bargain price. Oh, yeah, and you better add five
hundred. I figer I oughta make something for my trouble."
"Hey, no way. We can't get back here by dark, anyway."
"You can, but that's your problem, gents. Up a thousand after
dark." George backed away, eyeing the two men. "Better get going
if you want to make it." He continued to watch until the two had
swung their horses and left at a gallop.
The three of them were back at the corner table in the Magnolia, with Big
John glaring from behind the bar, burning to know what was going on but
unable to overhear. The two young men were effusive in their thanks to
George, with Ben, as usual, doing most of the talking.
"But the whole thing was your idea, George. And you even got the
Shinns to buy the mine back. That doubled the money we came out with. You
ought to have part of it."
George shook his head, smiling. "I got my five hundred. That's
enough. Profits are made on risk, and I didn't take any. Besides, Luke
stumbling over that ore car was what tipped me, so he deserves part of the
credit."
"But how did you know, George?"
"I didn't, but when I looked at the tracks the cars ran on I realized
the mine had been worked for years, processing half a mountain of rich ore
before it played out. Some had to have fallen through or spilled off the
cars while they were being moved through the mine. That's why I had you
tear up the tracks and ties. Sweeping up all the gravel and powdered rock
from the tunnel floor got nearly all the gold lost from the cars. Close to
nine thousand dollars worth."
Luke grimaced. "Hard work and sore muscles, but it sure beats losing
our six thousand."
"Yeah," Ben chipped in, "and the Shinns paid extra to get
the mine back, besides. I'd no idea you'd dare to do that, George. Won't
they raise a stink when they find out the tracks're torn out? The mine is
really worthless now, isn't it?"
"Yeah, prob'ly, but who knows? And besides, they might even think the
story they told you, that the mine's in 'pocket country,' is true. Anyway,
they were so anxious to get it back they didn't even look inside, and the
bill of sale is nothing but a quitclaim releasing your interests, with
nothing said about condition. There's nothing they can do.
"And next time," George said with a grin, "they might think
a little harder before they salt a gold mine."
End
*Copyright (c) 2002 by F. Barriger.
All Rights Reserved
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Forrest Barriger is the author of several E-books and of articles
published in numerous newsletters. Comment is invited to forbar@2xtreme.net
Or see www.withfootinmouth.com/
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
©2002 StoriesByEmail.com
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