out for a few clams, but Cork, he didn’t budge. He said he’d sell for ten thousand.”
“Must be a pretty good pocket. Agnes Cork, he don’t lack for anything. He’s paid up at the Mining Supply. I was in there when Cork bought a case of DuPont and some fuse and caps, and a new pick, and he just laid down gold coins.”
“Coins? Not ore? He must be makin’ some bucks.”
“You think ten thousand’s a bit high for that pocket?”
“Guess we’ll find out. Scruples, he’s going to try again, I’ll wager. You just gotta wonder what’s up there in that hole.”
Me, I just studied each man, trying to get some handle on him. Mostly, they were loners, I thought. I didn’t hear anything bad about Scruples, except he was lookin’ for a bargain. We all look for bargains.
“How does Cork get his ore out of there? You’d think Scruples would just jump the mine when no one’s around there.”
“He must have some secret way of getting it out. Truth is, I’ve never seen a load leave that mine.”
“Whatever it is, he ain’t going to tell us how he does it,” one of them said. “That’s a hell of a hole he’s got there. Them tailings keep on growing, so he’s hauling a lot of rock out of there. He must be in there a quarter of a mile.”
It was funny, because I had the answer, straight from Agnes Cork himself. There wasn’t no ore. But I kept my mouth shut and sipped that rotten beer, which tasted like horse piss. I had no idea why Cork’s mine went in so far, if the ore had pinched out and it was just a pocket.
Well, I finished up my mug and took a leak in the alley, climbed onto Critter, and headed up a steep hill toward this here Palace Car, which glowed purple and gold in the late afternoon light. It sure was out of place, with no railroad anywhere near. But there it was, on the crest of a hill, lording over Swamp Creek, as if whoever lived there owned the whole place. And maybe they did.
Well, there wasn’t no hitching post up there, but as soon as I got close, some gunslick with a pair of Colts hanging from his hips butt-forward climbs out of the shadows. I watch him close, thinkin’ maybe he’ll pull one of those short-barrel .45-caliber irons on me, but he simply stared up at me. “The man wants to talk with you. I’ll take your horse.”
“That’s Critter, and he don’t like bein’ taken anywhere.”
“I’ll take him.”
“No, I’ll ground-rein him like always.”
“I’ll take him.”
“You tell Scruples I’m not interested,” I said, starting to turn Critter away.
But this dude, who’s got greased-down hair like the one in town, he grabs my bridle. “I’ll take him,” he said.
Critter kicked the hell out of him, and the dude dropped to the ground howling, and when he came up he was waving that revolver in Critter’s chest.
“Lugar, stop.”
That was Scruples, who was standing on the observation deck at the rear of the Palace Car.
Lugar, he gave me and my nag one of those you’re-dead looks, and sulked off toward a barn and pen downslope some. I knew he was itching to spray some lead around, and not just at Critter neither.
“Mr. Cotton, come in.”
I didn’t really want him to be calling me that, but I wasn’t going to admit to being Mr. Pickens either, so I just marched up them iron steps to the platform at the end of the car, and on in.
Holy cats, I ain’t ever seen such a place, and I ain’t got the words for it. There was a mess of red velvet drapes sort of pinned up with gold tassels, and shimmery stuffed furniture I think my ma called brocade, and damned if there wasn’t a big old grandfather clock in a walnut case, and Venetian blinds on the windows, and a mess of them books, all leather and gilt, and vases full of daisies and whatnot, and a mysterious hallway along one side that went to other rooms in the railroad car.
And that blonde, she was nowhere in sight, and I figured it was all for nothing. I’d have given a month’s topgun salary just to see her with her hair down and flowing around her shoulders. But hell, that’s Pickens’ Luck, and if I planned to live a while, I’d better just get used to it. My supply of women was pretty much limited to the red-lamp variety.
“We like comfort,” Scruples said. “And if this district runs out of ore, we’ll take our comfort with us.”
He motioned me toward a narrow corridor along one side, and we emerged into a compact dining area with a kitchen at the other end of the car. I warn’t feeling very pleasured by it. This place was full of stuff, like oil paintings on the wall and tablecloths. I’d heard of them tablecloths, but this was the first I’d ever laid eyes on one. This here one was a mess of white cloth laid over a table, just waitin’ to sop up stains. And napkins, too. I’d seen a few of those, but not these white ones sitting in rings of something that looked like silver. Maybe it was pewter. I hardly knew one from another, except it wasn’t gold. But there was gold around there. Them picture frames looked to be gold, and them spoons and forks, the handles was gold anyway. And them plates was purple and gold, like the colors outside.
Without asking, he poured me some coffee from a fancy jug, or whatever it was, and handed it to me. He poured one for himself, and motioned me to sit, which I did, sinking into a soft leather cushion. I sure had no notion why people lived like that. It seemed a mess of work to me, and no time off to have a beer.
“We have an investment company that’s buying up mining properties in the district,” Scruples said. “Mostly properties that are delinquent in paying taxes, or have faulty deeds. The problem is, it’s hard to remove the previous owners from our property after we acquire it. You saw exactly what can happen. The loss of four of our men sets back our plans, and we’ll have to push to return to schedule.” He paused. “We intend to own the entire Swamp Creek Mining District.”
That coffee, I’d never tasted the like. It was like them beans got burnt. It was strong enough to stain the rear end of an antelope brown. But I sort of liked the flavor, and thought maybe if I roasted some Arbuckle’s beans hard before grinding them up, maybe I could do her.
Scruples, he looked me over amiably, his gaze focusing on me to see how I was responding to all this here stuff, so I just gazed back, wishing that blonde would show up out of one of them closed-off rooms. I didn’t half mind this man Scruples, even if he was as real as a three-dollar bill.
He smiled. “We lost about half of our work force,” he said. “And that’s where you come in. I’ve made inquiries and found you’re handy at a lot of things.”
I sort of knew what he was driving at, but long as he was using big words like inquiries, I’d have to sort it out later.
“You could quickly become a top man with the Scruples Company,” he said. “Maybe the straw boss. We’ve ten or fifteen evictions ahead of us, and then we’ll own every mining property we think has promise.”
“What’s evictions?” I asked.
“Oh, persuading people like Mr. Cork it would be wise to pack up and leave.”
“That’s
