Authors: William W. Johnstone
Sidewinders (4 page)
“What's in there?” Scratch wanted to know.
“The offices of the Argosy Mining Company.”
CHAPTER 4
“Wait just a doggone minute,” Scratch said as he followed Bo toward the mining company office. “What'd you have in mind?”
“Maybe the Argosy will offer a reward for anybody who can find those outlaws and recover the gold they lost,” Bo suggested.
“You mean we're gonna be bounty hunters?” Scratch shook his head. “We've tried that before, Bo. It never works out too good.”
“Always a first time for everything.”
“Yeah . . . like gettin' our fool selves killed. I swear, Bo, sometimes it seems like you're gettin' even more reckless than I am in your old age. Folks look at you and think you're the sober, responsible one, but they just don't know.”
Bo just smiled.
Â
Â
The offices of the Argosy Mining Company were housed in a two-story building even more substantial-looking than the bank. For one thing, it was constructed of brick, one of several brick buildings that now stood along Deadwood's Main Street and Sherman Street, the two principal thoroughfares. When the Texans had first visited the place, back in its mining camp days, Deadwood had consisted of tents, tarpaper shacks, and a few hastily thrown-together buildings of raw, splintery boards. The presence of brick buildings showed just how much it had changed, how respectable it had gotten.
But with the arrival of the Deadwood Devils, the same sort of wild lawlessness that had plagued the area back then had cropped up again. No wonder folks were upset. Nobody wanted to go back to the way things had been.
When Bo and Scratch went in, they found themselves in an outer office with a desk in front of a railing and two more desks behind it, along with a couple of doors. A man in a suit and a stiff collar sat at the desk with a number of papers in front of him. He looked up with an impatient glance at the Texans and said, “Yes? What can I do for you?”
“Is your boss around?” Bo asked.
The superior curl of the man's lip came as no surprise. “If you're looking for a job at the mine, you'll have to ride out there and speak to the superintendent,” he said. “We don't hire any laborers here.”
“We're not looking to swing a pickax, sonny,” Bo said, keeping a tight rein on his temper. More and more, he and Scratch ran into these prissy, soft-handed types who would have been more at home back East somewhere, rather than out here on the frontier. But, as he had mentioned to Scratch as they were riding into Deadwood earlier, everybody had to be somewhere.
“Then what is your business with Mr. Nicholson?” the man wanted to know.
“He's the owner of the Argosy Mining Company?”
“He's the president,” the clerk replied with barely suppressed annoyance. “And he's not accustomed to dealing with the likes of you.”
Scratch grinned, but it wasn't a very pleasant expression as he leaned over the desk and placed his hands flat down. “You're kind of a snippy little cuss, ain't you?” he asked.
The clerk drew back and paled, although he already had such a pallor it was hard to be sure he lost even more color. He looked like he realized his arrogance might have gone too far.
But before he could say anything, the door to one of the inner offices behind him opened, and a man stepped out. He stopped short at the sight of Bo and Scratch and said in a loud, rumbling voice, “You two again!”
Bo and Scratch found themselves staring in surprise at the massive Reese Bardwell, who they had tangled with in the Red Top Café. Scratch straightened from his pose leaning over the frightened clerk's desk and said softly, “Well, this is an interestin' turn of events, ain't it, Bo?”
“Take it easy,” Bo advised his old friend. “One ruckus a day with a fella ought to be enough.”
Bardwell stalked forward. “What are you doin' here?” he demanded. “Did you follow me?”
“Mister, you're just about the last hombre we expected to see in here,” Bo said. “We're looking for the boss.” He glanced at the clerk. “Nicholson, right?”
“I'm Lawrence Nicholson,” a new voice said. A man who had come out of the office behind Bardwell stepped around him. Bardwell was so big Bo and Scratch hadn't seen the other man until now. Dressed in a sober dark suit, he was around fifty, with a mild face, thinning gray hair, and deep-set dark eyes.
“Yes, sir, if you're the president of the company, you're the man we want to see,” Bo said. “It's about that gold shipment of yours that got stolen today.”
Bardwell clenched his huge fists and started forward. “You two had something to do with that?” he said. “I might've known it!”
Nicholson put a hand on Bardwell's arm to stop him. Bardwell was almost twice the other man's size, but he stopped when Nicholson touched him.
“Take it easy, Reese. I hardly think these gentlemen would just waltz right in here like this if they'd had anything to do with the robbery.”
“That's right,” Scratch said. “We ain't loco. And we ain't road agents, neither.”
“Then why
are
you here?”
are
you here?”
Bo said, “We thought you might be offering a reward for tracking down the gang that's been pulling these holdups.”
Bardwell made a face like he had just bitten into a rotten apple. “Bounty hunters,” he said.
Bo shook his head. “No, not really. We're just a couple of fellas who are down on our luck and short on funds. But we've done quite a bit of tracking in our time, and we thought we might have some luck. That would help you out, Mr. Nicholson, and us, too, maybe.”
“Only if you could also find the gold that the Argosy lost today,” Nicholson said. “I'm as interested in that as I am in bringing the thieves to justice.”
“Likely they ain't had a chance to spend any of it yet,” Scratch pointed out. “If they've been hittin' as many shipments as we've heard about, they've probably got a whole passel of loot cached somewhere.”
“It's the sheriff 's job to track down those owlhoots,” Bardwell snapped.
“Yes, well, Henry Manning hasn't done a very good job of that so far, has he?” Nicholson asked crisply. He put his hands in his trouser pockets and regarded Bo and Scratch intently. “I've got a good mind to take a chance on these men, Reese. You obviously know them, though, and if you're opposed to the idea, I'll bow to your judgment.”
Scratch gestured toward Bardwell with his left hand and asked, “Just who is this big galoot, anyway, for you to be askin' his opinion?”
Nicholson smiled. “I got the impression you were already well acquainted with each other. Reese Bardwell is the chief engineer and superintendent of the Argosy mine.”
Bo and Scratch couldn't stop the looks of surprise that appeared on their faces. After their encounter in the Red Top Café, Bo never would have pegged Bardwell as being smart enough to hold down such an important job. The big man looked barely intelligent enough to swing a sledgehammer or a pickax.
Bardwell seemed to enjoy their reaction. He sneered and said, “I'd be leery of hirin' them if I was you, Mr. Nicholson. They jumped me while I was having lunch in Mrs. Pendleton's café. That one in the fancy jacket attacked me, and the other one threatened me with a gun.”
“That's terrible.” Nicholson sighed and shook his head. “I'm sorry, gentlemen. But I can't go against the wishes of Mr. Bardwell in this matter. Maybe you can get the sheriff to sign you on as deputies. Sheriff Manning could use some competent help.”
“You're sure?” Bo asked.
Nicholson shrugged again. “Sorry.”
A triumphant grin spread across Bardwell's craggy face. The skinny clerk at the desk looked pleased, too. Bo felt a surge of anger but controlled it. Folks had a right to hire, or not hire, whoever they wanted to . . . even when they were wrong.
Bo's natural courtesy prompted him to touch a finger to the brim of his black hat. “I reckon we'll be going, then,” he said.
“But, Boâ” Scratch began.
“Come on. There's nothing for us here.”
Bardwell laughed harshly. “That's for damned sure.”
When they were back on the street, Scratch said, “Now what?”
“Now we see if the livery stable owner is willing to let us sleep in the hayloft for a little bit extra if we keep our horses there,” Bo said.
Â
Â
A few years earlier, sleeping space had been at a premium in Deadwood. The liveryman could have asked five dollars a night for the right to stretch out in the hay, and fortune-seekers eager to search for gold would have paid it gladly.
Now that things had settled down a little, the situation had changed. The elderly liveryman was agreeable to the arrangement Bo proposed. For an extra four bits a night, the Texans would have a place to sleep, even though they might have to share it with bugs and rats.
It wouldn't be the first time.
“We still got to eat,” Scratch pointed out after he and Bo had left their mounts at the stable. “You reckon Miz Pendleton might let us have a few meals on the cuff ?”
“She might,” Bo said, “but I don't want to ask her. I never have liked being beholden to anybody.”
“Me, neither,” Scratch agreed. “Do we offer to wash dishes?”
Bo laughed. “It may come to that. Let's not give up just yet, though. There are other mining companies in Deadwood, and some of them have lost gold shipments, too. Maybe one of them would like to hire a couple of trackers.”
“Worth a try,” Scratch agreed.
They spent the afternoon going from office to office, but with no luck. Although the reception they got at the other companies wasn't as hostile as the one at the Argosy, no one was willing to hire them to try to track down the Deadwood Devils.
“That's the sheriff's job,” they were told more than once.
The Texans were coming out of the office of the Black Hills Bonanza Mining Company when they almost ran into a smaller figure scurrying along the boardwalk. Bo put out a hand to steady the little white-bearded man, who he recognized as Chloride Coleman.
“Take it easy there, old-timer,” Bo said, which drew an angry snort from Coleman.
“Who're you callin' old-timer? A few more years and your hair'll be just as white as mine, mister.” Coleman jerked a thumb at Scratch. “His already is.”
“My hair's silver,” Scratch corrected. “Not white.”
Coleman snorted again. “You still ain't that much younger'n me, and don't you forget it. Now step aside. I got business to tend to.”
Bo inclined his head toward the door. “With the Black Hills Bonanza?”
“That's right.” Coleman drew himself up to his full height, which was still a head shorter than the Texans'. “I got to see if they want to hire the best dang gold wagon driver in the whole blasted Dakota Territory.”
“I thought you worked for the Argosy Mining Company,” Bo said.
Coleman grimaced and for a moment looked like he was trying to chew a particularly tough piece of meat. Finally he said, “Not that it's any o' your business, mister, but word got back to Mr. Nicholson that that rascal Davenport over to the bank was askin' questions about how come the Devils didn't kill me like they have ever'body else they've held up. Must've got him nervous, 'cause he decided they could dispense with my wagon-drivin' services, as he put it.” Coleman turned his head and disgustedly spat a stream of tobacco juice into the street.
“That's a shame,” Scratch said. “We're outta work, too, and been tryin' to hire on with one of the companies to track down those road agents.”
“None of 'em hired you, did they?” Coleman guessed.
“Not yet,” Bo said. “There's one more left, though.”
“Which one's that?”
“The Golden Queen.”
Coleman shook his head. “You don't want to work for that outfit. Take my word for it.”
“Why not?” Scratch asked.
“For one thing, it's about to go under. It's been hit harder than any of the other companies. The fellas who work for the Golden Queen been gettin' by on promises instead o' wages for nigh on to a month now.”
Bo rubbed his chin as he thought. “Maybe what we should do is try to find those outlaws first, and then find somebody who's willing to pay us for what we know.”
“How do we eat in the meantime?” Scratch asked.
Bo sighed. “I don't like to say it, but maybe we could ask Mrs. Pendleton for some credit after all.”
“Sue Beth Pendleton?” Coleman piped up. “That there is one handsome woman, lemme tell you. Serves up a mighty fine helpin' of vittles, too. Feisty, though. Mighty feisty. Darned shame about her husband Tom. He was a good fella.”
Other books
This Dark Road to Mercy: A Novel by Cash, Wiley
Romance: The Billionaire Alpha Collection by Ward, Penny
The Wolf Sacrifice by Rosa Steel
Sir Philip's Folly (The Poor Relation Series Book 4) by M. C. Beaton
Tall, Dark, and Texan by THOMAS, JODI
No Safeword: Matte - the Honeymoon by Candace Blevins
Jingo Django by Sid Fleischman
Thea at Sixteen by Susan Beth Pfeffer
Alien Chronicles 1 - The Golden One by Deborah Chester
Midnight Run by Linda Castillo