Auraria: A Novel (19 page)

Holtzclaw removed the covering to reveal several strongboxes. So poorly guarded! The first that Holtzclaw opened was stuffed full with brown leaves.

“That is tea,” said Shadburn. “I do not think these gentlemen would take that as a deposit.”

Holtzclaw opened a second one, confirming that it contained more customary currencies, then brought it to Shadburn, who removed fistfuls of federal notes. The railroad men had not come prepared to receive such a sum, so Holtzclaw fetched a potato sack from the kitchen. Once the dirt was knocked out of it, the potato sack was very suitable and inconspicuous.

“I’ll start with a standard form contract,” said Holtzclaw. “Then we will append our specific requirements.”

“These gentlemen haven’t time for even your hastiest contract,” said Shadburn.

“For a transaction of this magnitude,” said Holtzclaw, “with so many promises made and major constructions planned, each party would want some kind of protection.”

“I think that we can take the word of these gentlemen,” said Shadburn, “which is built upon the substantial reputation of their railroad.”

“At the very least, a receipt!” said Holtzclaw.

“No, Holtzclaw, it’s not necessary,” said Shadburn. “Let us shake on it and consider the matter finished, or rather, just begun.”

Handshakes were exchanged from all sides—between Shadburn and the railroad men, between Holtzclaw and the railroad men, between Shadburn and Holtzclaw, between the railroad men, and even with the servant boy who came into the room with fresh coffee just as all were rising to leave.

From the porch of their offices, Shadburn and Holtzclaw watched the railroad men disappear into the foot traffic of the awakening town. A train whistle sounded from nearby, and a plume of steam rose into the air. The clock tower chimed for seven o’clock.

“Well, that went well,” said Shadburn. “I’m famished. Let’s eat.”

#

The deal—if indeed it was a deal and not just bribery—had only gone so well because Shadburn had bought and paid for the railroad, twice over, with an indiscriminate torrent of federal notes. How could it be good business to begin such an ambitious project so far in debt, so casually? And yet, Holtzclaw’s creed required him to believe in Shadburn's actions—the years he’d spent under this paragon of industry required it. Holtzclaw could not bring him to label Shadburn’s actions insanity; genius of sufficient brilliance looks like insanity to all but the most promising and learned men, and Holtzclaw wanted to number himself among the promising and learned.

Shadburn refused to address any of Holtzclaw’s questions until both men were seated in a local eatery. The server, without taking their order, brought them plates of pan-fried poultry cutlets and scrambled eggs and hash browns topped with onions.

Shadburn smacked his lips. “It’s tasty enough,” he said. “But in Auraria, they serve the hash browns with wild forest mushrooms, butter poached. You’d never seen that in Dahlonega, and they would think you funny if you asked for it. Marvelous, isn’t it, the regional differences in a cuisine. Here we are, not ten miles from a place, and the kitchen manners are as different as if we had traveled to the Orient.”

“That’s an overstatement,” said Holtzclaw. “Whether you’re in Auraria and Dahlonega, it’s still potatoes.”

“You didn’t have Auraria’s hash browns with mushrooms, then? You’d feel differently if you’d eaten them.”

Holtzclaw rapped the table with his knuckles. “Your stomach has given you away. This is not just any tiny hamlet. You’ve been there before.”

Shadburn smiled. “I’ve been all over, Holtzclaw, always passing through. Most places are not worth revisiting, and many of our contemporaries would never give Auraria a second glance. But they are mistaken—we see more clearly, you and I, having been there. It has a certain enchantment, don’t you think?”

“I would not think there was any place like it on earth,” said Holtzclaw. “Red fish that jump up from lakes of mist. Houses with infinite interior space. Farms frozen over by their springhouses. Moon maidens. Plat-eyes out to rob travelers not of their goods, but of their heads. I fear that these forces will conspire to make our plans impossible, or at the least very expensive.”

“Every hill and dale has its particular boogeymen. There is supposed to be some kind of skunk ape that lives in the Okefenokee, but did that matter to us when we were buying logging rights down there?”

“I doubt you’d brave skunk-apes and plat-eyes and a hundred owners to build a hotel. Not enough profit in it. You must have an inside word on a new strike of gold.”

“Gold! Why, that is the real plague on Auraria. They should have kept its old name—I’d rather it were Knucklesville still. Did you see men neglecting their fields to pan at the creek side? Did you see men becoming moles, living underground, chasing seams that they’ve never seen? Did you witness old women toss away their hard work because they caught a glimpse of gold coins? It’s a sad occupation, all caprice and luck, and all its fortunes are unnatural.”

“I can’t believe you would try to wipe out something as profitable as gold mining.”

“That’s just it, Holtzclaw. It isn’t profitable. If it were, don’t you think that the valley would be crawling with commercial mines? Did the people of Auraria look like they were bathing in gold dust? Yes, you’re about to say that you saw plenty of gold dust up there. From time to time, someone strikes a nugget, but that makes matters worse. A hundred dollars’ worth of gold, spent in an evening, inspires those poor people to throw away a million dollars of good work, rich land, tall trees, fat animals.”

“And if you flood all the mining tunnels, then the people of Auraria will have no choice but to do something more productive?”

“We’ll show them the way. Sawmills, tanneries, but most importantly, a hotel and resort, which will attract the best people.”

“It’s like nothing we’ve done before.”

“We built a lake at Canton,” said Shadburn.

“You were in the right place when someone else built a lake at Canton. That’s a distinction that makes all the difference! You bought and held the property—not the whole basin, just the shoreline—and sold it as the water came up. There was no construction, no relocation, no development at all after the dam gates were shut.”

“Of course, yes, you’re right,” murmured Shadburn.

The table fell silent. Ravaged plates of hash browns congealed before them.

“Was this the only meeting you had in mind?” asked Holtzclaw. “May I go back to Auraria now?”

“So eager to return? Has it already weaved a spell on you?”

“I have work to do.”

“We’ll both go, Holtzclaw. All the land is bought, yes, except for a few trifles? We’re ready to move to the next phase.”

“Am I supposed to have bought a whole town already? I did the best I could with a day and a half. It’s more than I’ve ever bought in such a short time.”

Shadburn frowned. “How far did you make it down the list I gave you, then?”

At last, Holtzclaw had to reveal his failure. “I bought the lands of the widow Smith Patterson, the Moss farm, the Strickland farm, Bogan’s lands, but leaving the mineral rights, though that is solved easily enough. The Walton house with its many floors and alphabetized employees. The Amazon Branch. I fear that I overpaid for it, but that does not appear to be a concern of yours on this project. The last I tried was the Sky Pilot’s house. Despite my best pleadings, he has not yet sold his parcel at the top of the Terrible Cascade.”

“You’ve missed the most important piece!” said Shadburn. “The Terrible Cascade is the site for the dam. The Sky Pilot’s cabin will be beneath a hundred thousand tons of earth.”

“I will dislodge him yet,” said Holtzclaw. “Give me time.”

“I can’t understand it, Holtzclaw. You explained to the Sky Pilot the value of the project, didn’t you?”

“How could I have told him? I didn’t know your plans myself. I invented some story about wanting to recover scrap metal from the gold mines, but the Sky Pilot wouldn’t hear it.”

“I wish you hadn’t mentioned the mines at all,” said Shadburn.

“I was careful not to stir up any hopes. I didn’t say that I was starting any diggings. Only that the mines contained certain pieces of scrap in which the Standard Company had a passing interest. I saw some elaborate workings in the tunnels. Tracks, carts. Some could be quite valuable, Shadburn.”

“You were in the mine tunnels too? Holtzclaw, this becomes worse and worse! You did not have time to persuade the Sky Pilot to sell, but you crawled through the mud of the mine tunnels looking at scrap metal. Have you succumbed to gold fever? I must go back with you to Auraria, to make sure you aren’t distracted.”

“Give me a little more time. Let me finish what I’ve started.”

“It’s decided, Holtzclaw. In truth, it’s a matter of mushrooms. We started talking about Auraria’s cuisine, and now, another Dahlonega breakfast does not appeal to me in the least.”

“We’re not in the mushroom business now, are we?”

“Would that we were!” said Shadburn.

Chapter Eleven

That afternoon, for the second time in three days, Holtzclaw found himself being driven by X.T. over the Great Hogback Ridge and into the blue mist of the Lost Creek Valley. Holtzclaw’s eyes were very heavy, and his head nodded against the sidewall of the carriage, only to be slammed against it by violent rocking as the carriage bounced over a rock or rut. For all the miles he’d traveled, he was back on the same sorry road.

“I am sorry about that, misters!” said X.T. “We had a storm this morning that was to wake the dead! That is, if they weren’t already awake. Positive torrents of rain. Makes the road a mess.”

Holtzclaw’s head banged again into the side of the carriage. “Blast it!”

“There’s no need for such language,” said Shadburn.

“Sorry. It was a moment of inattention. I was half-asleep.”

“Then it is more disappointing. It tells me that such oaths are your natural speech, and you must defend against them with your waking mind. When those defenses are lax, then your true words emerge.”

“I am a litany of disappointments to you.”

“A jeweler doesn’t polish the faces of the stone that are naturally smooth. He polishes the rough edges.”

The carriage came to a stop in front of a total washout. The Carver Creek had become the Carver Cascade. Brown water tumbled from the hillside through a funnel created by boulders.

“Never seen that sort of freshet,” said X. T. “Wasn’t here before. Can’t get through.”

“What are our choices, then?” said Holtzclaw.

“It’s back up the Great Hogback about a mile. Then we’ll take the Salamander Trail, then down Erwin’s cart track. But that’s a road we take only in the best weather because it’s muddy, and this isn’t the best weather. If there’s a washout on the Great Hogback Road, then I’d wager Erwin’s will be a mudslide.”

“Can we ford this washout, then?”

“It’s running fast and I don’t know how deep,” said X. T. “I don’t have spikes on my wheels.”

“We’re not moving yet?” said Shadburn, emerging from inside the carriage and onto the running board. “Ah, I see.”

Holtzclaw followed Shadburn’s gaze and saw Princess Trahlyta. She occupied an island in the center of the muddy freshet, where the current broke around a fallen rock. She let her feet bob in the rush.

“Hello,” said Trahlyta. “It’s been far too long since I last saw you.”

Holtzclaw doffed his cap. “It’s only been a day, Princess. Are you already so fond of me?”

Trahlyta laughed. “Why, James, you’re a fine fellow, but I was talking to Hiram—”

“Shadburn. I go by Shadburn now. I wouldn’t have thought that you cared, Princess. Aren’t our little doings too far beneath your notice?”

“Oh no, Hiram. Shadburn. Sir. Quite the opposite. I hardly think about anything else.”

Holtzclaw stuttered and peaked, wondering if he shouldn’t try to intervene. Shadburn had jumped down from the runner of the carriage, muddying his boots.

“You’ll find I’m a man of standing,” said Shadburn. “A rich man. A successful man.”

“I’m very happy for you, sir, if you are happy.”

“Are you really?” said Shadburn. “I suppose that’s only a reflex pleasantry. Not that you’ve reconsidered anything.”

“Oh Hiram, it’s really very flattering …”

“Because I have great designs here in the valley, and I’m afraid that they will disturb you.”

“Dams and lakes and such?” said Trahlyta brightly.

“Holtzclaw told you? He insisted he knew nothing about it.”

“He didn’t, but his mission was clear enough from the places where we chanced to meet.”

“We met at every stream and brook,” said Holtzclaw. “I am surprised that I did not see her in my wash basin or chamber pot.”

“We’ve only just been acquainted,” said the princess.

“And you know what these plans require. I am going to drown your valley. Displace your employers. Make these mountainsides much more respectable. No more money-grubbing, no more wasted efforts. That’s what respectable people do. They raise those around them to a higher and better use. They sow respectability. What do you think of that, Princess? How does that sound, for a lifetime’s work?”