Gold Rush

  Gold Rush

  Union Army deserter Cody Black thinks Gold Hill is a safe place to hide out the war and make his fortune. But Cody finds prospecting to be a tough business and soon finds himself in debt to the local gold baron. Desperate for work, he is forced to become a deputy sheriff and now faces the very violence he fled the army to avoid. To make matters worse, a nefarious plot is afoot to tip the war in favor of the Confederates. Cody must battle Southern sympathizers, and his own doubts, to seek redemption and help save the Union in Gold Rush.

  By the same author

  Blood Feud

  Writing as Doug Bluth

  The Homesteader’s War

  Gold Rush

  Bill Grant

  ROBERT HALE

  © Bill Grant 2018

  First published in Great Britain 2018

  ISBN 978-0-7198-2816-4

  The Crowood Press

  The Stable Block

  Crowood Lane

  Ramsbury

  Marlborough

  Wiltshire SN8 2HR

  www.bhwesterns.com

  Robert Hale is an imprint of The Crowood Press

  The right of Bill Grant to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him

  in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  All rights reserved. This e-book is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Chapter 1

  Cody Black looked up and down the main street of Gold Hill. Today was the start of the rest of his life. He took a step out of the general store where he had just sold his saddle and tack. The horse it had belonged to, an old army nag, was now the property of the livery. There was no way now he was going back. He patted his pocket on his new jeans, thankful that he had burned his army uniform before entering the town. The proprietor had raised an eyebrow when Cody walked in wearing only his long johns. Cody had waved it off by saying a bear had surprised him in the morning, in his camp, causing him to flee before he could dress. That seemed to satisfy the owner’s curiosity.

  Now, Cody wanted to put his past behind him. He didn’t want the stares, or the hidden accusations that would come if he had walked into town wearing his Union colors. A deserter, a coward they would call him. But Cody couldn’t handle the war. The sight of his friend, Tommy Gill, from the same Ohio countryside, going down, bayonet wound to the chest, was enough for him. He hoped Colorado Territory was the start of something new – rumors of gold in the hills had already brought a slew of prospectors. A good place to lie low, to hide out from the war, to forget.

  Cody sighed as he walked down the main street, searching for a saloon. A tall, stiff drink was in order. That, and news of work. The livery hadn’t offered much for his horse, nor had the general store owner for his tack. He had spent much of it on his new duds, so work was needed if he was to survive. Cody stopped into the first bar he came to, the Rusty Spur, and sidled up to the counter.

  ‘Shot of whiskey please.’

  ‘That’ll be two bits,’ said the stoic bartender.

  Cody started, taken aback, ‘Two bits? Mighty expensive whiskey here.’

  ‘You new in town?’

  ‘Just rode in.’

  ‘That explains it, then. Gold Hill is aptly named. Miners come here, they get rich quick, wallets filled with money, and they spend a lot at the saloons. So our prices are higher than . . . where’d you come from?’

  ‘Back East,’ Cody stated without looking at the man.

  ‘So our prices are higher than back East. So, two bits.’

  Cody plunked the money down on the counter and downed the proffered shot. ‘I’m looking for work. What’s a fellow got to do to get a claim here?’

  ‘The best stakes for gold mining have been taken. But miners are always selling their claims and buying new ones. If you need work one man to talk to is Gary Talbott. He owns Talbott’s Mining, and hires greenhorns to help mine gold. He’s bought up a mess of claims, too. You know how to pan?’

  ‘To be honest mister, I don’t know much about mining gold.’

  ‘Then I’d recommend talking to Talbott. His office is down the street, take a left by the bank and you can’t miss it. He’s got a big sign says “Talbott’s Mining”.’

  ‘Much obliged, mister.’

  The bartender nodded and said, ‘Name’s Ellis,’ as Cody walked out.

  Gary Talbott was younger than Cody anticipated. A little older than Cody, perhaps just north of thirty, with light blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He eyed Cody critically as he sat in his highback chair.

  ‘I can always use another miner. You know how to find gold?’

  Cody shrugged.

  ‘That’s all right, we’ll train you. Got a place to stay?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘You don’t say much do you? All right then, you can stay at the mining camp. Talk to Shorty about getting a tent. Welcome aboard, Cody!’

  Cody shook Talbott’s proffered hand. As he was led outside Cody smiled: he hadn’t been asked any questions about his past. Perhaps he was safe here, in the Rocky Mountains, the first big mountain range he had come to after his mad dash from the Army of the Tennessee. The mountains offered solace and a chance to start over. Now it looked like it would pay off: he could hide out from bounty hunters until the end of the war, and even put gold in his pockets.

  Talbott guided him out of his two-storey office building. ‘The main camp is due north of the town. Here,’ he handed Cody a letter, ‘Give this to Shorty, he’s the foreman, and he’ll set you up. Good luck.’

  Cody had no trouble finding the foreman. Shorty turned out to be a wizened old man, stooped by age, short like his name implied, with a long gray beard. He squinted, eyeing Cody. ‘So, you say the boss wants you to work for us?’

  ‘That’s what I’m saying. It’s all there in the letter.’

  ‘Can’t read.’ Shorty crumpled up the letter in his hand and threw it on the ground.

  ‘Then why did he. . . ?’

  ‘Don’t know, boss is forgetful sometimes. Anyway, you want a job, that’s fine. You know anything about mining?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘I been mining since 1848, the California Gold Rush. That’s fourteen years. I’ll teach you how to pan. There ain’t nothing to it, really. Boss has got what he calls a consortium, don’t know what that word means, but basically you get the right to work here and a share of the profits.’

  ‘Is it easy to find gold?’

  ‘Easy? Depends on where you look. But what’s really hard is keeping it in your pocket. Too many young fellers get a pocketful of gold, gold dust, nuggets, whatever, and then they spend it all on whiskey and women. Then they’re back out here looking for more.’

  Cody sighed, ‘Well, I’m willing to try.’

  ‘Great, grab a pan and follow me.’

  Cody took a pan out of a pile that Shorty had nodded to and then followed the old miner. The camp was a sprawling mess of tents and lean-tos, surrounding a creek bed. Men, and they were exclusively men, sat around on logs, while some had waded into the creek to pan for gold. A group of man were using a sluice to run water from the creek, others were breaking rocks in a nearby quarry.

  ‘Now, the mechanics of this are real simple. You just take that pan there, and dip it into the water – make sure you get the sand and silt from the bottom. Bring it out, and sift throu
gh all the sand. When you see something that glitters, that’s gold. Set it aside and continue panning until the day’s end. You can also break rocks, that’s harder work, but maybe you’ll find more gold.’

  ‘It sounds tedious.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Boring, it sounds boring,’ Cody said with another sigh.

  ‘That it is friend, that it is, but by sundown you’ll have a lump of gold to put in your pocket.’

  Cody nodded, this is what he was here for. This, and to escape the war.

  ‘You got a roll?’ Shorty asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘A bedroll? A tent? Anything to sleep in?’

  ‘No, there’s nothing. I sold everything when I came here.’

  ‘All right, I’ll set you up while you work. Get you a tent and three squares a day. You can pay for it up front or it will come out of your earnings.’

  Cody nodded, ‘Got it, Shorty, much obliged.’

  Shorty shuffled off, and left Cody alone to pan for gold, no questions asked, just the way he wanted.

  Chapter 2

  For the next several days Cody continued his panning. On his second day he found gold nuggets, a small amount, in his pan. He was so excited, he told Shorty right away. The old miner gave a snort. ‘Keep panning, young one, there’s more gold out there.’

  The third day brought a little more gold, but the fourth day he came up empty. Same on the fifth and sixth day. In the camp Cody kept to himself: he had a small tent, a cup for coffee, and a tin to eat beans in. The other miners were a miserly lot, they weren’t talkative, which suited Cody just fine.

  One night, after a week at the mining camp, Cody was sitting alone on a rock, eating his tin of beans. Another miner was eyeing him, making Cody nervous. At length the man stood up and wandered over to Cody.

  ‘Looks like a mighty fine place to sit and eat some beans. Mind if I join you?’

  Cody shifted uncomfortably, ‘It’s a free country.’

  ‘Much obliged. My name’s Hank. Hank Grimes.’

  ‘Cody. Cody Black.’ He shook Hank’s proffered hand.

  ‘What brings ya to Gold Hill? Wait, lemme guess, the gold.’

  ‘Yeah, I want to make money. Also, I kind of like the mountains,’ said Cody, before he took another mouthful of beans.

  ‘Lots of fellas come here. Most lose their money and drift away. I been here six months and haven’t made my fortune yet. You look like a sticker though, maybe you’ll stick around.’

  ‘I hope so, at least for a few years.’

  ‘Not going back East, uh, fight in the war?’

  Cody gave Hank a hard look, his hand flexing unconsciously into a fist. He sighed, ‘Not my war.’

  ‘Don’t blame ya. I’m from Texas, but I couldn’t care one whit about fighting. Lot of fellas here are the same, but some aren’t. Be careful what you say and who you say it to.’

  ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

  ‘How’s your panning coming?’ Hank asked, leaning over.

  Cody pulled away, then sighed. ‘I had luck on the second day, but since then I’ve hit a dry spell.’

  ‘Yeah, payment is coming due for the tent and tools. Ole Talbott’s got a good scam going. He doesn’t get his hands dirty, and makes money off our sweat. Still, better than trying to defend your own claim. Claim jumpers will shoot you quicker than you can blink. Well, good talking to ya Cody, don’t be a stranger.’

  Cody watched in silence as the loquacious Texan stood up and walked away to join some of the other miners. Two months ago he would have been preparing to kill Texans like Hank, but here in Gold Hill all that was in the past.

  Cody frowned as Shorty counted out the gold nuggets. ‘You’re still short. The boss ain’t gonna like that.’

  ‘Is that why you’re called Shorty, always telling the miners they’re short?’

  Shorty gave a dry chuckle. ‘You’re a funny one, ain’t ya? You’re short, ya gotta pay up. This will cover the tent for the week, but not the food.’

  ‘It’s only beans.’

  ‘Ya still gotta pay for ’em.’

  Cody looked away, not saying anything, as Shorty took all the gold nuggets.

  ‘See ya next week,’ the foreman said. ‘Better have more gold or you might get kicked out.’

  Cody punched the air in frustration. All of his hard work gone. The deserter stood there for a while, trying to compose himself. He had no choice but to continue panning for gold until he had paid Talbott. Cody picked up his pan and walked back to the creek.

  ‘Trouble?’ Hank asked as he squatted in the cold water.

  ‘Yeah, Shorty took all my gold and said I still owed.’

  Hank nodded, ‘Yup, that sounds like Shorty. He does whatever the boss tells him. Talbott found him drunk in a saloon, his pockets empty. At least that’s the talk around camp. Boss cleaned him up and made him a foreman. He knows gold, and he follows orders, only requirements I guess.’

  ‘How do you and the others make any money here?’

  ‘Heh, it takes a while to find your bearings. Everyone here has had trouble one time or another, but eventually they figure out right where the gold is. It takes patience, lots of it. ’Course there are fellas that never figure it out. They don’t last too long. I hope you’re not one of them. Have you tried breaking rocks?’

  Cody wiped his brow. ‘That’s back-breaking work. I’d rather pan.’

  ‘You’re telling me. Wish someone would invent something that would make it easier to smash those big boulders into tiny pieces.’

  ‘Ha, that’ll be the day. Well, back to it, I guess.’

  ‘Good luck, I’ll see ya at chow time.’

  Cody bent to his task, more determined than ever to find gold. But by evening he had only found a few specks of dust. Looking around, he saw other nearby miners had panned more than him, nuggets, in some cases quite big. Dang, he thought, maybe I don’t know how to do it. It seemed easy when he first came here. From talk he had heard gold was running in rivers down the mountain. Apparent to everyone but him.

  Cody sat down on his favorite rock, eating yet another helping of beans when Hank came by. ‘Any luck?’ the Texan asked as he plopped himself down next to Cody.

  ‘Only a little bit of dust today. I’ll tell ya Hank, if I don’t get a break soon I’m gonna be flat broke. I need to do something to keep Talbott and Shorty off my back.’

  Hank gave a low whistle. ‘Don’t know what to tell ya . . . hold on a second.’ Hank stood up, looking at something brewing across the camp. Cody followed his line of sight and saw two men squaring off, arguing.

  ‘Looks like a fight, come on Cody.’

  Cody followed Hank, and they pushed their way through the gathering crowd of men. ‘I told ya, that there is my gold. I found it fair and square.’

  ‘Not likely Stan, it’s mine, I put it there.’ The second speaker brandished a knife while Stan made for his own belt. The knife wielder lunged at Stan, causing the man to jump back. Cody and Hank had made their way to the front, Hank yelling ‘It’s Stan and Eaton fighting.’ Cody nodded, not needing the commentary.

  Watching the fight reminded Cody of his time in the army. Every few days there would be a scuffle of some sort, usually over cards. But here, this was different. A knife had been pulled, meaning a struggle for life and death. These miners were deadly serious about their gold. Cody watched in fascination as Eaton swirled his knife, large enough to kill a bear, through the air. Stan’s eyes grew wide every time the knife got close. Suddenly, he dashed around Eaton, coming straight for Cody and Hank, Eaton hot on his heels. As he passed Stan tossed a small pouch right at Cody. Eaton eyeing it, ignored Stan and ran right to Cody. ‘Got my gold do ya? In cahoots! I’ll slice you just as easy.’ Cody had almost no time to react as the armed man bore down on him. Dropping the pouch, Cody reflexively brought his fists up. He grabbed Eaton’s knife hand, stopping the blade inches form his face. With the other, he slammed his fist into the bigger man’s nose. Blo
od splayed out, and the man’s head snapped back.

  Blinking away tears Eaton tried to attack again, but Cody held his right hand fast, twisting it until the knife, involuntarily released, hit the ground. Cody punched Eaton again and then dragged him to the ground. The angry miner struggled to get up, but Cody positioned his body on top, pinning him. Eaton’s exertions became less and less pronounced as he gasped for breath. Soon he gave up the struggle altogether. Strong hands lifted Cody from the ground and dusted him off.

  ‘How d’you manage that?’ asked Hank, while slapping him on the back.

  ‘I don’t know, it happened so fast I just reacted.’

  ‘Lucky me. Many thanks partner.’ It was Stan, his hand out. Cody shook it and said, ‘I didn’t have much choice after you threw the gold at me.’

  Stan picked up the pouch, ‘Yeah, well, I had to do something.’

  ‘My gold, give it to me,’ Eaton, now standing, roared as several miners restrained him. The foreman took his time getting to the scene.

  ‘What’s all the fuss here?’ asked Shorty.

  ‘Eaton tried to knife me for my gold,’ said Stan between breaths. ‘Thanks to Cody though I escaped.’

  ‘That’s my gold. He durn stole it from me.’

  ‘We’ll get this sorted out, but Eaton you drew a weapon. That’s not allowed in the camp. Take him to the stocks, we’ll have the sheriff come. You say Cody helped you?’ Shorty looked at Cody, puzzlement in his eyes.

  Cody, his hands still shaking, nodded.

  ‘Hot damned, Eaton’s no small fry and when armed and angry he’s about as unstoppable a force as we got on this here mountain. How’s the gold hunting comin’ son?’

  ‘Not well,’ Cody confessed.

  Shorty scratched his long beard. ‘Umm, boss is gonna want something from ya, and ya ain’t good at finding gold, but y’are one hell of a fighter.’