Silver Dreams (24 page)

"Don't you worry. When we get to Georgetown, we'll get you the right things. By the time we start climbing that mountain, it will have turned cold, and we'll both be in britches anyway."

Britches? Men's clothes? Ramona was certainly an odd being.

The wagon driver came out of the building and secured the gate at the back of his load. "All aboard?" he asked, coming around to the front. "We're leaving directly."

"No, we can't leave yet," Elizabeth insisted as a tremor of panic coursed through her. Where in the world was Max? "One of our party isn't here."

Suddenly he appeared, sprinting around the corner from Main Street. Refusing to admit to herself that he was the most beautiful sight she could have seen, she sighed with frustration and urged him to run faster.

"Good morning, Cassidy," Ross said when Max climbed aboard. "What happened to your face? Don't tell me you met someone who didn't appreciate your charming Irish wit. Or did you have a run-in with a vicious door?"

"A little of both," Max said. He sat next to Elizabeth and greeted Ramona with a nod. "Good day, Miss Redbud. You're going with us?"

"Never was one to miss an adventure, Mr. Cassidy," she said.

"I'm sure that's true." He turned his attention to Elizabeth. "And how are you this morning, Betsy?"

"Were you trying to give me a heart attack, Max? We could have left."

"Truth to tell, I’m pleased that my absence could have that dire an effect on your tender emotions."

She straightened the folds of her skirt. "What nonsense."

"I had to go for my hat," he explained, and for the first time Elizabeth noticed that the flat-topped coachman was back on his head. It showed a few more scars and battle wounds but, all in all, was not too damaged from its ordeal.

"You went to the alley?"

"I did, and it's quiet as a Sunday morning. Didn't see the first sign of your beaux from last night, though I was reminded of one of them when I saw a dent in the garbage can lid." Giving a stealthy look around the wagon to make sure the others weren't listening, Max continued, "What about the last of your suitors, Betsy? Have you see the battered detective this morning?"

“No, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time until he alerts someone to his confinement. I wish this wagon would get moving.”

Without warning, Max pulled her down and covered her with his body. Peeking under his arm, she saw Hildebrand at the front door of the hotel. Max covered his own face with his hat.

“What’s with you two?” Ross asked. “You forget to pay your bill?"

"Mind your own business," Elizabeth said.

"Driver," Max bellowed. "Let's go!"

The driver snapped the reins against the backs of his horses, and the rig moved away from the depot. When the last structure of Central City had disappeared behind the rolling foothills, Elizabeth came up for air.

Dooley rubbed his hand down his beard and squinted at her. "What's the matter with you, girlie? You're acting a mite peculiar this morning."

"Not for her," Max said. "She can be much more peculiar than this."

Georgetown was smaller and less culturally endowed than Central City. Its leading citizens had made their fortunes in silver, not gold. What the Fair Day party found late that afternoon was a narrow main street bedecked with hanging baskets of pansies and geraniums, a few populated side streets, one small hotel, a bank, a courthouse and, of course, several saloons. Of most importance to Ross Sheridan was an outfitter which would meet their prospecting needs.

Since it was too late to begin the trek up Devil's Fork Mountain, Ross decided they would purchase their supplies that afternoon, and start out at first light the next morning. Even Max found the dollar fee at the Dakota Hotel within his budget and joined the others in front of the building after their satchels had been stowed inside their rooms.

Ross took a tablet from his attaché case and read over the long list of supplies he'd been jotting down for days. "Okay, this is what we're going to do," he said with authority.

"I hope it's get a decent meal," Dooley said.

"I hope I’ll get a hot bath and clean clothes," Betsy said, pushing back unruly strands of hair that swirled around her face.

"I could use a good strong shot of whiskey," Ramona offered, though everyone knew she'd been taking swills from a flask all day.

Ross stared at his partners. "What is the matter with you people?" He rattled the tablet in front of everyone’s' noses. "We're not doing any of those things until we’ve purchased every last one of the items on this list. The store will close in a couple of hours and then we'll have lost a whole day! Let's not forget why we're here, after all."

Max cleared his throat and said, "If I may make a suggestion, Ross..."

"Oh fine, Cassidy. What is it you want to do...brawl with some of the locals so you can add more scars to your face?"

"No, I'm satisfied with the ones I’ve got. I do think it would be wise to have Dooley's claim verified at the courthouse however. Before spending any more money, shouldn't we see if the Faraday brothers actually had the rights to the Fair Day Mine registered with the county, and if the document Clyde gave Dooley is worth the paper it’s scribbled on?"

He glanced over nearby rooftops at the three peaks of Devil's Fork Mountain topping two thousand feet of solid rock. "Before any of us scale that beast, wouldn’t you like to be pretty damn sure that if we do find something of value up there, you’ll get to keep it?"

No one said anything for a moment as all four explorers looked at each other and back at Max. "I ain't much on legal matters," Dooley said first, "but it can't hurt to do what the young fella says." When he saw the annoyance on Ross's face, he quickly added, "though I'm sure as can be that the mine belongs to none other than Dooley Blue."

"Yes, Ross," Betsy agreed. "I think Max has a good idea."

Ramona shrugged. "Makes sense to me, though I guess I'm not really entitled to a vote."

Ross tossed his tablet back into his case and snapped the latch shut. "All right, then, we'll do as Cassidy says...this time. But so help me, Dooley, if this paper turns out to be worthless, I'll make you eat it for your last meal!"

Minutes later they faced the clerk of county records over a well worn oak counter. The little man adjusted his glasses on the end of his nose and read Dooley's document signed by Clyde Faraday. "This looks legal enough," he said, "as long as we can compare Mr. Faraday's signature with the original claim...and as long as we can confirm Mr. Faraday's demise."  He peered suspiciously over his glasses at Dooley.

"Of course he's dead!" Dooley proclaimed, looking toward his friends for support. "I held him in my arms till he breathed his last."

The clerk left them and wandered between two rows of filing cabinets. In a short while he returned with a folder in his hand. He cast a tight little bureaucratic smile on the anxiously waiting prospectors.

"It seems you are right, Mr. Blue," he said, and a collective sigh filled the room. "In the spring of 1890, the bodies of Ian and Clyde Faraday were found on the east side of Devil's Fork Mountain. Both men were quite dead and still frozen solid."

"Great news!" Ross exclaimed bringing a disgusted look from the clerk and a jab to his ribs from his sister.

"Further, we have the original claim to the Fair Day Mine on file, and the signature matches the one on Mr. Blue's deed. The mine is yours, Mr. Blue, and you're welcome to it according to the laws of Clear Creek County." He raised his eyebrows and chuckled, "Not that you'll find anything," he added. "Devil's Fork Mountain ran dry years ago."

Chapter Thirteen

A somber group of prospectors left the Georgetown City Hall. A gloom had settled over the Fair Day Five, and it seemed that no one wanted to be the first to address the ominous comments of the county records keeper.

Finally Dooley broke the silence by thumbing his nose at the city building. "That little man in there ain't got the sense of a doodle bug," he said. "There ain't no such thing as a dry mountain in all of Colorado. It's all in knowing where to look for the metal and how to sniff out the good ore."

Ross spun around and glared at the old man. Elizabeth readied herself to come to Dooley's defense. "Now, Ross, don't say anything you'll wish you hadn't..."

Ignoring her, Ross puffed out his chest and stuck his face nose to nose with Dooley's. "You darn well better pray that Devil's Fork isn't dry, Dooley, and you better hope your sniffer's working. I'm in no mood to find a dusty hole after climbing two thousand feet in the air."

The old miner didn't back away an inch and matched Ross bluster for bluster. "You'd do well to remember whose name is on that piece of paper, Mr. Fancy Pants Know-It-All..."

Max put a hand on each man's chest and pushed them apart. "Now gentlemen, let's remember our manners. Even though I never put much stock in this get rich quick scheme in the first place, I'm not willing to believe the off-hand comments of that bookworm in there. My instincts tell me that man has never been ten feet up the Devil's Fork, and his opinion is based solely on hearsay."

"That's right," Elizabeth said. "We don't know what we're going to find. I think we should be happy that the claim is real and whatever we do find is ours. Besides, it's still a thrilling adventure and a good news story."

"Easy for you to say, little sister," Ross groused. "You didn't borrow..."  He cut his words off and smoothed the front of his rumpled shirt. "Well, never mind about that. The point is, we've come this far. There's no turning back now."

Dooley snapped his fingers with renewed vigor. "That's the spirit. Let's get those supplies so we can sit down in one of them cafes. My belly's been growling for hours."

He set out toward the purveyor and the others trailed behind.

The owner of the mercantile was delighted to see the eager customers. “Too happy,” Max observed to Elizabeth. “As if he hasn’t had many customers lately.”

They purchased picks and shovels, drillers, dynamite, blasting powder, timber scraps and a wheelbarrow in its original crate to be assembled at the Fair Day Mine. Smaller items were packed in cast iron ore buckets.