A short chapter to take us further south: Dawn.

Stone

Chapter 35 – On to Golden

The group only spent the one day in Three Rivers. That gave Stone a chance to visit a few merchants in town, and Rayla and Sissy a chance to visit the two largest fabric shops in the town. Both shops were quite busy … apparently the depression in the economy of the town meant more people were making their own clothes rather than buying from seamstresses or ready-made garments.

They bought three bolts of material in one store, and another ‘to die for’ bolt in the latter store. Rayla knew Stone would complain, but she knew how to quiet him down. Plus, it had been Stone who decided they wouldn’t buy anything in Greenford. She knew Sissy functioned better when she had some sewing time in each day. On the road from Three Rivers to Golden, she spent the entire day making a new dress for Emily with the ‘to die for’ material.

Stone had sent most of his wagons back to Greenstone at Three Rivers, with orders not to stop and pick up goods at Greenford on the way. The remaining three wagons, plus the caravans, pulled up into the little wayside stop that was the main street of the mining town.

Stone rode up to the mining office, and the man inside turned pale when he saw him.

“Captain,” the man sputtered. “We was told you was dead,”

“Well, as you can see, I’m not,” Stone replied. “I’m here to check out my mine.”

“I’m not sure it is your mine, anymore,” the man said, digging through a box and coming up with a folder. “See here? There is a will here that come a couple months after you left. It shows you left the mine to Lefty Hoover.”

“I don’t even know any Lefty Hoover,” Stone said. “Why would I leave the mine to him instead of the two men I left in charge?”

“I dunno, I just did what the papers said,” the clerk said. “It looked official-like to me.”

“Barely,” Stone said. “And there are more than a few spelling mistakes in it. They even spelled my name wrong. It is W-A-H-L, not Wall. I need to speak to this Hoover fellow.” With that he left the office, and saw a large group of men approaching him, nearly 30.

“Are one of you Hoover?” Stone said.

“That would be me. Why are you enquiring about my mine?”

“Your mine? And where are the men that were left in charge?”

“Mining is a dangerous business,” Hoover said. “One fella slipped off the cliff, and the other had a landslide fall on him. I took over management then, so the production could keep going, and these men would continue to get paid. That was near enough to two years ago. And then the will come through.”

“No will is valid if the signer is not dead, and as you can see, I am surely not dead.” Stone drew his sword.

«Be careful, Pate,» Stone said «There are two years of gold hidden around here, so we need to be able to question him.»

“Get him men,” Hoover shouted. “There are only three of them.” The two soldiers that Stone had brought with him were at his side as soon as trouble became apparent.

Doug stepped in front of the onrushing men, and Stone swept several aside with the flat of his blade. But when he approached Hoover, the sword came down blade first and the sword held by the miner fell to the ground, with most of his arm attached.

The stunned miner looked up at Stone, when suddenly his head was lopped off, and went rolling in front of the other miners, causing them to stop immediately.

«Pate,» Stone said angrily. «I said we needed to question him?»

«No need,» the sword sang back. «I got everything from him after the first blood. He killed three men himself and had three others killed by his henchmen. He replaced the dead men with his cronies. And I have their names.»

The riot was over: seeing what Pate could do mollified the men, once their boss was laying on the ground in three different parts. Stone named the five men that Pate told him were cronies of the dead men, who he ordered to pick up the parts of Hoover and arrange a burial.

“I assume all five of you are foremen?” Stone said. The men nodded as they looked over the gruesome task before them.

Stone turned to the rest of the men. “How many shifts in the mine?”

“Three sir, and a maintenance shift on the weekend,” one miner said.

“Good. I want each shift to elect their foremen and assistant foremen. Let me know at the end of the shift who was chosen. Who kept the books for this lot?”

“That would be me,” a smallish man said.

“I want you to come to the wagons at the road with your records in two hours. Now everyone get to work.”

Stone and his two soldiers then started going through the mine, finding the various hiding places where Hoover had stashed gold. At the end of two hours they had found most of it. It still looked like only a quarter of what two year’s takings would be.

Stone confirmed this with the bookkeeper, going through the records. Even though the foremen and Hoover were being paid outrageous salaries, and the men were paid slightly higher than normal, there should have been far more gold, according to the figures that the small man had provided in the ledger of gold returned from the smelter.

Stone even had Pate take a nick out of the man’s wrist, and then she confirmed that he was telling the truth, and was an honest man. He had not known that Hoover was not the legitimate owner of the mine. But Pate did get a suggestion from the man’s mind: apparently Hoover had a wife.

Stone and the soldiers went up to Hoover’s house and found a young woman in her early 20’s, packing up. She did not seem to overcome by the death of her husband.

Stone spoke with her as the soldiers went through her bags, finding gold in most of them. “Hoover is dead, and I am in charge now,” Stone said.

The woman thrust out her ample breasts, putting on the come-hither smile that had worked for her so many times before. “Perhaps we can come to some arrangement,” she cooed, pulling down her top to show more of her cleavage.”

“I am sorry miss, but I have a wife I love, and her bosom makes yours look like a teenager,” Stone said.

“I will fight her,” the girl said. “Winner mates with you.”

Stone looked astounded. “You think I would condone a fight with myself as the prize? Not that you would have a chance against Rayla. She has killed hundreds of armed men in battle. Do you want to die?”

“Am I not going to die anyway?” she said.

“Not necessarily,” Stone said. “Let me take a small nick from your wrist.”

The girl held back. The man who had come to warn her of Hoover’s death had described what the sword could do. Stone finally lost patience.

“You know, slicing off your breasts would tell me all I need to know, but it would hurt you a lot more. Not to mention putting you pretty much out of the business of wooing men.”

With that choice the girl finally put out her hand, and Pate made the smallest of cuts.

«I have it all,» she sang to Stone. «She has more stashes and caches than even Hoover had. He didn’t know she was squirreling away a lot of his ill-gotten gains for herself.»

“You can’t take my money,” the girl complained when the soldiers started bringing out the bags of gold she had packed in her bags.

“It is not your money, it is mine,” Stone said. “And I also know about the stash under the creek bank, in the old dead oak, in the drainage ditch, …” The girl blanched as Stone repeated all the locations Pate had learned. He reached into his pouch and took out some coins: two gold and a pile of silvers. “Here are two and a half gold to let you get restarted. You can keep this house, once my men clear it of any more gold. Dig under the stove, fellows. There should be four bags in there.”

Stone left and returned back to the wagon and sent Kalosun and O’Breyne and the other wagoneers off to help the soldiers. By the evening meal, they had returned, and the gold had reached 90% of what the bookkeeper said it should be. Stone assumed that the rest had been spent in one way or another.

That night, Rayla and Stone slept in a tent, not too far from the caravan that Sissy, Emily and Jason slept in. Stone was exhausted after the events of the day, so he was content to just snuggle with his beautiful wife.

“This isn’t working,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Owning a mine way down here. It really needs someone on site to run it.”

“What will you do?”

“Sell it, I think. But I don’t imagine any of the mine owners have enough cash to pay for it.”

“What about selling to a partnership?” Rayla suggested.

“That is genius,” Stone said, sitting up in bed. Of course it would need to be a big partnership. I don’t think that any three or four of them could afford it on their own. I could cash out, and we could take the money to Westport. I want to buy a ship anyway.”

“A ship? Whatever for?”

Remember when we first got here, and we decided to search out that three towers place across the sea? But we wanted to wait until the kids are a little older? Well, Jason will be 10 when we get home, and Emily will be seven. I’m not sure how old Sissy is, and I doubt she knows. So we go home for two more years, and then come back to Westport. My ship will have two years of local trading, and a seasoned crew to take us across to the other side of the sea. Then we just have to find the towers.”

“That sounds easy enough, but you don’t have a clue where to look, do you?” Rayla pointed out.

“No, but I might in a month. I expect to spend that long in Westport. I can chat with the locals: some of them may have sailed to the other side of the sea, and have some information.”

“A month? That is a long time,” Rayla noted. “What am I going to do down there?”

“Well, you will be teaching the kids, for one thing. Sissy should get some work with a local seamstress. She seems to do better when she is doing a lot of sewing.”

With the discussion closed, the two fell asleep in each other’s arms.

The next morning Stone called a meeting of all the mine owners. They arrived tentatively, not sure if Pate would be handing out any more of her justice. They were astounded to learn that the mine was for sale.

“Pate has told me that the last two years has only depleted half of the easily attainable pure gold. After that there might be another 10 or 20 years of digging out the gold-rich ore that is left: much like what you do in the other mines now. It will depend on how much effort is put into it.” Stone said.

“I want you all to determine the amount of money you can each put into the company. The amount you put in will determine the shares that you get, and therefore your profits. I expect that you will be able to recoup your investments in three months, and everything after that will be profit.”

“Can I get in on that?” the mining office clerk said. “I’ve got about 300 gold saved up for my retirement. Doubling that every half year would be nice.”

“Yes,” Stone replied. “I also invited the owner of the mint and the smelting operation here so they participate as well. All the people who contribute will decide who will run the operation, with one vote per gold contributed. It is in your best interests to select someone honest. You saw what happened with Hoover.”

“But most of my money is copper and silver coins, not gold,” the minter complained. “I only have a little gold for buying more metals.”

“Not a problem,” Stone replied. “Your contribution will just have to be converted to golds: 20 silvers equals one gold, 240 copper is also a gold. It all works out.”

That made the man smile, and he hurried off to start counting his stock.

The other men did the same. Some were reluctant to put all their assets into the corporation, but most did, to get the largest share possible, only keeping out a few silvers to provide food for the next month or so. Most expected to work in the mine, and would be able to draw a salary each week. The little bookkeeping clerk counted the contributions, noting the value given by each of the 32 partners. Gold was bagged and placed in the bottom of the wagons.

At one point Stone noted there was an old wagon near the office. “Who owns that?” he asked, and the mining clerk said it was the wagon he had arrived in, but the horses were long dead.

“I will buy it for eight gold,” Stone said. “We have spare relief horses that can pull it. Lets put eight more gold next to your name.” The bookkeeper did. The wagon was of no use to mining clerk, and the extra profits he would get would bump up his savings.

“Who will drive it? You?” O’Breyne asked.

“No, I hope not,” Stone turned to Kalosun. “O’Breyne tells me you have taken a turn driving his wagon. Are your hands healed enough to take on this wagon.”

“Gladly,” the black man said, happy to be able to finally contribute.

“Okay,” Stone said, adding: “I don’t want you overdoing it through. I know you are a tough man and will endure enormous pain. But I want you to let me know if it is getting sore: even a little bit. I will take over for a bit. But we don’t want your healing stopped, do we? You don’t want to revert to being helpless again.”

Kalosun agreed, and Jason piped in that he would ride with his mentor, and could help out in easier sections of the trail, to allow Kalosun to rest his hands.

It turned out that Stone only had to take over for one hour twice the first day on the road to Westport, and two periods of a half-hour the next day.

It was on the second day that Stone felt a pull, and rode away from the small train, and then paused in a familiar spot he had never visited before. He stood there on Doug for nearly a half hour until the recognition hit. This was the spot in his dreams where he had fought the dragon so many times in his dreams. He finally rode back to the wagon train to tell Rayla what he had found.