by Scott Connor
Stand-off at Copper Town
When Nathan Palmer and Jeff Morgan save Patrick Hilton’s life, the delighted old prospector lets them join him on a mission to reclaim a gold nugget he left buried in an abandoned mine tunnel. But their quest goes awry when they reach the location only to find that it is now in the middle of the bustling mine at Copper Town.
The three men are already facing a race against time to find the gold before the tunnel re-opens, and their situation worsens when a gunslinger arrives to stake his claim for the nugget with hot lead. Now a stand-off develops – one in which the victors’ prize will be the gold and the losers’ fate will be a trip to Boot Hill. . . .
Stand-off at Copper Town
Scott Connor
Palmer and Morgan : Book 3
Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
First published in 2011 by Robert Hale Limited
Copyright © 2011, 2017 by Scott Connor
First Kindle Edition 2017
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.
Published by Culbin Press.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Prologue
‘Get out now,’ Patrick Hilton shouted. ‘The whole tunnel’s coming down!’
As the last echo from Patrick’s demand faded away, miners scurried past him with their heads down and their hands raised to ward off the patter of stones. Deeper into the tunnel the ground grumbled and timbers protested with a fatal insistence.
Patrick slapped every man’s back while counting them out, but when the last miner ran by him he had only counted to five. Two men were still further back in the tunnel.
Patrick peered into the gloom, weighing up his chances if he were to go back in to find them.
Ten feet away another timber strut snapped, the downward pressure making it explode across the tunnel and causing another collapse of dirt. On either side the walls were spitting pebbles, a sure sign that heading in any direction other than to ground level would be a fatal mistake.
But he went back anyhow.
He hurtled down the tunnel, rounded a corner, and then skidded to a halt, his mouth falling open in shock. Ahead were the two remaining men, and they were fighting. Each man was trying to wrestle the other to the ground.
‘Stop that and get out!’ he shouted. ‘Whatever this is about can wait.’
The men glanced at him, their eyes bright in the gloom. One man was Wallace Crowley, the other Foley Steele.
Patrick hurried on as Wallace dragged himself free of Foley’s clutches and delivered a scything blow to his chin that crashed him backwards into the shaking tunnel wall. Then Wallace turned on his heel and took a pace away to head deeper into the tunnel.
Foley rebounded and lunged for him, gathering a fleeting hold of his arm before Wallace tore himself free and ran, quickly disappearing into the dust-shrouded gloom.
‘Why has he gone down there?’ Patrick demanded.
‘Because the man’s a damn fool,’ Foley said, fingering his jaw.
Then the ground shook, making him cringe, with his head down to his shoulders in fear.
They faced each other, silently debating their next actions, not that they seriously considered heading to safety. These three men had prospected together for years and it’d been Wallace’s idea to seek out and explore these old mine workings.
No matter how stupid his actions were, they couldn’t abandon him.
With a deep foreboding rumbling in his guts Patrick hurried down the tunnel with Foley trailing behind. He couldn’t see his quarry, but the miners had been working a cramped opening to the side and Patrick presumed that was where Wallace had gone.
He knelt beside the opening’s two-foot high entrance and peered into the darkness, seeing the dim smudge of candlelight bobbing around amidst the dust.
‘Wallace, get out!’ he shouted.
‘I just need a few more seconds,’ Wallace said, grunting with effort.
‘You haven’t got a few more seconds,’ Foley shouted.
‘Just a—’ Wallace didn’t get to complete his comment as the tunnel then gave up its losing battle against the intolerable pressure.
Patrick and Foley did the only thing they could do and curled up with their arms held over their heads. For a seeming eternity they awaited their inevitable death while listening to the rocks and dirt cascade down.
After the crescendo of noise an eerie quietness descended.
Patrick drew in a cautious breath and despite the dust that made him cough, the lack of any weight pressing down on him sent his hopes soaring. He looked out from under an arm and the welcome sight of Foley’s thumb-up signal greeted him.
Having enough light to see meant the whole tunnel hadn’t collapsed and there would be a route out. It’d probably require them to crawl through a treacherously narrow gap for a hundred yards, but at least they had a chance to escape that he didn’t think they’d get a few seconds ago.
A hand slapped down on his shoulder and he turned to see the dim outline of a dirt-coated Wallace crawling into the space beside them, his rolled up jacket tucked under an arm.
‘Are you ready to leave now?’ Foley said, his tone terse.
‘I sure am,’ Wallace said, with a hint of laughter in his voice as he shuffled round to sit beside them.
‘Then tell me one thing before we get out of here,’ Patrick said. He took a deep breath to still the anger that was overcoming his shock. ‘Why in tarnation did you fight with Foley, go back into a collapsing tunnel, and nearly get us all killed?’
Wallace didn’t answer other than to offer a huge smile. Then he pointed at his jacket. Slowly he took it out from under his arm and opened it up.
Patrick and Foley looked at the revealed object and they couldn’t help but join him in smiling.
Presently, a new, echoing sound reverberated in the tunnel: the three friends’ gleeful laughter.
Chapter One
Fifteen years later. . . .
‘Hey!’ Nathan Palmer shouted, coming to a halt on the boardwalk. ‘Get your hands off him.’
The two men ignored him and continued to bundle the old-timer towards an alley. One man had an arm around their victim’s waist while the other man pushed him onwards. The victim was struggling, but only feebly and his waving arms were brushing ineffectively against his assailants’ bodies.
Nathan glanced at his friend Jeff Morgan, who rolled his shoulders.
‘There are two of them and two of us,’ Jeff said. ‘So I reckon we should have a quiet word with them.’
Nathan smiled when Jeff raised his fists showing what form that quiet word would take. Then, side-by-side, the two men walked down the boardwalk.
They had arrived in Snake Pass only ten minutes ago. As it had been an hour after sundown they’d headed to a cheap eatery after which they’d pla
nned to spend the evening roaming the saloons searching for news about any work that might be available, but this altercation had grabbed their attention first.
Although when Nathan got closer to the alley he saw that the old-timer had now given up on fighting back; his limp form was being dragged along with ease. When the assailants reached the entrance to the alley between the bank and a mercantile, they glanced back and saw that they were being followed.
They appraised Nathan’s and Jeff’s belligerent postures. One man stopped pushing the old-timer and turned round to confront them while the other man dragged their victim into the alley.
‘Stay there,’ the remaining man said. ‘This doesn’t concern you.’
Nathan and Jeff stomped to a halt before him.
‘It will do unless you let him go,’ Nathan said as Jeff cracked his knuckles for emphasis.
The man looked at them with barely a flicker of concern, and then moved aside his jacket to reveal a pearl-handled six-shooter.
‘Two men who aren’t packing guns don’t tell me what to do.’
Nathan glanced at Jeff and raised his eyebrows. The man narrowed his eyes, clearly wondering what the signal had meant, but he found out that it had been only a distraction when Jeff darted in.
With a speed that was surprising for a large man he swung back both bunched fists and then clattered them up and around in a ferocious blow to the chin that sent the man reeling away.
The man hit the corner of the alley where he hung on for a moment before sliding down the wall to land in a crumpled heap on the boardwalk. Then Jeff stood to one side of the alley while Nathan took the other.
‘What’s happening out there, Tucker?’ the other man asked from within the dark alley.
Nathan caught Jeff’s eye. They both nodded, confirming they’d await developments.
Rustling sounded within the alley. Then slow footfalls closed on the entrance.
‘I said, what’s—?’
The man didn’t get to finish his question as he then emerged and met a swinging blow from Jeff’s fist. At the last moment he saw it coming and moved aside, but he succeeded only in turning into a straight-armed jab from Nathan that crunched into his nose.
The man released the old-timer and staggered away, bleating in pain. While Jeff gave him the same treatment as Tucker had received, Nathan grabbed the former captive before he could fall over.
When the two would-be attackers were lying comatose and sprawled against each other on the boardwalk, Jeff stood over them in case they stirred while Nathan checked on the intended victim’s condition.
‘Are you fine, old-timer?’ Nathan asked, lowering his head to consider his grizzled, bearded face.
‘The name’s Patrick Hilton, and you just saved me the trouble of teaching them a lesson,’ he said groggily.
Patrick smiled a weak and largely toothless grin, letting Nathan know he was exaggerating, but with him sounding in better condition than he’d feared, Nathan released him.
‘Why were they trying to take you away?’
Patrick glanced at his attackers. Then, while shaking his head, he backed away for a pace to lean against the mercantile wall.
‘It was my own fault, and if I had any money to repay your kindness, I’d treat you both to a meal and tell you about it.’
Jeff moved away from the unconscious attackers.
‘Then why don’t we buy you that meal and you can still tell us about it,’ he said.
Patrick tipped back his hat to scratch his head in bemusement, perhaps finding it hard to trust them after his recent experience, but when both men nodded and gestured towards the eatery, he patted them both on the back.
‘In that case I’ll tell you a tale that’ll excite you so much it’ll make your heads spin.’
Thirty minutes later Patrick had been true to his word and both men were staring at him agog. Their cleaned plates that had contained huge beefsteaks were pushed to one side, but their slices of apple pie were as yet untouched.
‘What was under Wallace Crowley’s jacket when he opened it up?’ Nathan asked.
‘Wallace had dug up the largest nugget of gold I’ve ever seen.’ Patrick pointed at the remnants of his pie before he speared another forkful. ‘It was bigger than this piece of pie. Heck, it was bigger than the whole pie!’
Both men snorted at the possibility of this being true, but they still waited with bated breaths until Patrick had swallowed the next mouthful.
‘What did you do with it?’
‘There’s the point of my story.’ Patrick forked the last piece of pie into his mouth. Then, while still chewing, he leaned forward. ‘The tunnel started a-rumbling and a-shaking again. We had to get out quickly or die where we stood.’
‘Did you get out?’ Jeff asked, caught up in the story.
The other two men looked at him until he chuckled, realizing his mistake.
‘ I did,’ Patrick said slowly. Then he leaned back in his chair with his mouth clamped shut, letting them complete the story.
Nathan nodded. ‘So, what you’re saying is that your two friends died and the gold nugget is still lying there in that collapsed mine tunnel?’
‘You’ve got it. Digging through a hundred yards of treacherous collapsed tunnel was a challenge for me and the rest of the prospectors who’d joined us on the expedition, but for that nugget it was worth it.’ Patrick sighed, his eyes glazing as he appeared to think back to the events. ‘We’d almost reached it when it all went wrong. We were deep into bandit country and the bandits found us. We ran rather than get shot up, but I was the only one who survived to tell the story.’
‘And after that?’
‘After that I’ve spent my life telling my story for food and whiskey,’ Patrick said, his voice becoming sad for the first time. ‘Except sometimes the people I tell it to want to hear the details I never divulge.’
‘We saw that, but what I meant was, why didn’t you go back for the nugget? This happened fifteen years ago and those bandits couldn’t have been there for all that time.’
Patrick gave a quick shrug, although he wouldn’t meet either man’s eyes, suggesting he might be hiding something.
‘I had other business to deal with, but now I’m back and this time I’m finally going on a mission to reclaim the nugget.’ He rubbed his gums, locating a last morsel of pie before he favored them with a huge grin. ‘So I’m mighty obliged for your help.’
‘We’re obliged for your story.’
Nathan caught Jeff’s eye and they both smiled, silently acknowledging that neither of them believed the tall tale. Then Nathan reached over for his plate and began eating.
‘And we both wish you well,’ Jeff said, taking his plate.
Patrick looked from one man to the other and then settled his gaze on their plates.
‘I’ll tell you some more for your portions of pie.’
Nathan laughed, spluttering a few crumbs.
‘I’m enjoying the pie too much, but if you want another slice, just order one,’ he said when he’d swallowed.
Patrick lowered his head for a moment and then with a pensive expression he leaned back to ask for another slice to be sent over to their table. When it arrived, he poked at it and then looked at them.
‘You’re really not interested in hearing the rest of my story, are you?’
‘We enjoyed it,’ Jeff said, finishing first. ‘It was well worth the price of a meal. If there’s any more to it, tell us, but make it quick as we have to start touring the saloons.’
‘We’ve got work to find,’ Nathan said.
‘And quickly before our money runs out,’ Jeff added.
Patrick looked at his pie and gulped.
‘You probably saved my life and then you used your own meager funds to buy me a meal. You two are good men.’
‘Let’s hope we can find someone who’s hiring who thinks that, too.’
Patrick stabbed his fork down into his pie with a determined gesture and beamed at th
em.
‘He does,’ he said.
Nathan gulped down the last of his pie, but before he could ask who, Jeff caught on to what he meant.
‘You?’ he asked.
Patrick nodded. ‘I reckon after tonight’s experience I’d be wise to hire two strong, trustworthy men.’
‘You said you don’t have any money.’
‘I don’t now, but I will have soon.’ Patrick carved off a large forkful of pie. ‘Then I’ll cut you a slice that’ll repay the cost of this meal a thousand times over.’
* * *
‘Are you sure about this, Nathan?’ Jeff asked when the old-timer had gone to sleep.
With them having spent all their money on supplies, they’d had no choice about where they would sleep that night and so had headed out of town and made camp. Since accepting Patrick’s offer they’d not yet had a chance to talk privately, but with the old-timer snoring like a howling coyote Nathan considered.
‘Nope,’ he said. ‘In all honesty, while we were eating, I thought Patrick’s tale was a tall one to keep us entertained, and I still think that.’
Jeff gestured at their supply-laden horses and Patrick’s collection of equipment.
‘Then why are we out here?’
‘Because I’d hate to hear later that we got it wrong and Patrick’s become a rich man.’
Jeff laughed and locked his hands behind his head.
‘I guess it’ll be an adventure. If it leads nowhere, all we’ve lost is a few weeks, and we’ll be exactly where we were before we went searching for a huge nugget of gold.’
‘We may even get ourselves a story we can tell others for whiskey and a meal.’
As Jeff nodded and settled back against his saddle, Nathan settled down against his own saddle. On his back he looked up at the stars, imagining that every one of them was a speck of gold.
Chapter Two
‘Are we close?’ Nathan asked when they’d settled down for the night after another long day’s riding.
Patrick waved the map that he’d consulted on every night of their ten-day journey so far.