Vern Barton pulled his pistol and looked around. He was not about to stop for anyone. He aimed at the big body of Pat Quinn running into the street and snapped off a quick shot. Pat stopped and crouched, drawing his pistol as Barton thundered past. He never got off a shot. Ross calmly had aimed his rifle and put a bullet into the fleeing outlaw’s side, knocking him off his horse, into a crumpled heap in the dust of Virginia City’s main street. As the two outlaw leaders had sown, so did they reap.
Chapter 28
Good-bye
“By gum, three trips to and from Virginia City in a week and not one hint of trouble. Marty, me lad, happy days are here again.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Malcolm. By the way, Luther Hatfield wants a job as a shotgun guard. I told him to come by tomorrow and you’d talk to him.”
“Good. That’s four men from your force that’s workin’ for me now. I couldn’t ask for any better. I got good news too.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m buyin’ out Clem Atkinson’s freight business. He don’t have much goin’ since Stoddard died. Say’s he’s ready to retire to his daughter’s place in Fresno anyhow.”
“Wonderful.”
“I also saw George Hearst while I was in Virginia City. He paid me for haulin’ the pumps up. Said he’s already started puttin’ out the fire in the Comstock with the water drained from the Little Bill Mine. He sent these for you.” Malcolm passed over some ornately printed pieces of paper.
“What are these?”
“It’s ten shares in the Little Bill Mine and ten more in the Comstock. Hearst says that right now they’re worth fifty bucks a share and will go to two-fifty or more once the mines hit the mother lode.” Malcolm smiled at Marty. “That means they’ll be worth five thousand in a few weeks.”
Marty eyed the valuable pieces of paper. “Mercy sakes, how does a body turn these into money like that?”
“You have ta sell ’em on the San Francisco stock market.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Tell you what. He gave me some too. If you want, I’ll get them to a broker in San Fran and tell him to sell when the market gets to two-fifty. I’ll send the profits to yur bank in Dallas. That all right with you?”
“Great. All this high-finance stuff makes my head hurt.”
Carson and Colleen walked out of the office together. They had been inseparable since the day of the gunfight on the mountain. Marty was grateful to see Carson using his wounded arm again.
“We were lucky,” he had confided to Malcolm the night after the fight. “We could have lost a lot more men. Maybe, for once, the good guys got a break.”
Two days later, Marty had sent Sergeant LeCroix and Corporal Blue back to the Presidio of San Francisco, each with a hundred dollars in gold coin in his pocket and a brand-new Winchester rifle, payment for their help in eliminating the outlaw gang.
Squint walked in after putting the stage in the barn. With his new source of funds from Hearst, Malcolm now had a stable man to help Squint handle the mules and rolling stock.
“Hey, Squint, how was the trip?”
“Nice and quiet, jus’ like I like it. Pat’s a great companion fer me when he rides guard. He don’t talk much, so there’s plenty of time fer me to git my say in.”
Marty smiled. “By the way, Squint, when I was in Reno saying good-bye to our soldiers, I ran into Phil Diedesheimer, the mining engineer. He said that Hearst sent out that blue clay he was plagued with and had it analyzed. Said the reason it’s so blue is because it’s got silver in it. Enough silver to make it worthwhile to collect and smelt. Maybe your mine has the same stuff.”
“By gum, wouldn’t that be somethin’? I’ll ride out tomorry and git a sample fer the assay office here. By gum, wouldn’t that be somethin’?” Squint shook his head. “If it do have any silver in it, you’re in fer ten percent of the first year’s take, Marty, my boy.”
“No, that’s not necessary. I was just passing on information. You don’t . . .”
Squint held up his hand. “I don’t want no back talk from you, Marty Keller. I’ve made up my mind.”
“That’s mighty kind of you, Squint. Thank you very much.”
“Hell, you earned that and much more, far as I’m concerned.”
Marty watched him disappear around the corner, probably headed for Jack’s Bar and a long cool beer or perhaps several. He turned back to Malcolm, standing beside Carson and Colleen. Marty smiled at his new friends, a warm feeling in his cold heart.
“As for me, dear friends, I think I’ll hit the trail tomorrow. My job here seems to be done.”
He waited out the storm of protest, and then continued. “You know why I have to move on. I’ll try and stop by and visit you the next time I’m in the area.”
“What about your profits from the stage line? Remember, it’ll be worth a lot, and very soon.”
“Malcolm, all I want from you is the reward money for Luke Graham. Take the rest and give it to Carson and Colleen here, as a wedding gift from me.” He smiled as both youngsters blushed a fiery red. “Carson, you’ll do to ride the high country with. I’m proud to call you a friend. Listen, the mines in Virginia City are going to be using prodigious amounts of lumber with the new support technique Phil Diedesheimer has come up with. Take the money from Malcolm and buy yourself a sawmill. Get as many acres of timber rights as you can buy up. Don’t forget the railroad will want ties for the tracks as well. You’ll be a rich man the next time I stop by if you do this, believe me.”
He stopped, his throat unexpectedly hoarse as he tried to say more. For him, friends were hard to find, and he regretted leaving them. “Come on, I’m buying supper for all of us. Anyone hungry besides me?”
Early the next morning, Marty rode Pacer to the end of the street and turned to head toward Reno. In his pocket was the fifteen hundred dollars, his good-bye gift from Malcolm. He looked back. Malcolm, Squint, Carson, and Colleen were still waving their hands in farewell. He blinked hard as Pacer turned the corner and they were lost to his sight.
Stagecoach Graveyard Page 23