Deadly Lode (Trace Brandon Book 1) (8 page)

Chapter
6

I
met Red just off Highway
20
,
at the intersection with
Goat Creek Road. He and his crew
managed to get
the tracked drilling rig and compressor up to the Sullivan Mine and set up on drill hole number one.

Red would
use an air
-
powered
,
down
-
hole hammer
bit
to drill down to just above the vein.
At that point, he
’
d
pull
out of the hole and rig up the core barrel. We
’
d
cut five
-
foot cores
until we
were
completely through the vein
zone and into footwall schist
.

Red
maneuvered the
drill
rig until it was lined up on
a
190
degree bearing.
This put
the drill hole perpendicular to the
280
degree bearing of the vein.
Next he locked
the
rig
’
s mast at a forty
-
five
-
degree angle.
We would drill
all three holes on the same bearing and angle.
T
he vein appeared to be very steeply dipping to
near
vertical,
and
we would
be
coring
through
it
at a
forty
-
five
-
degree angle.
In order to get the true vein thickness,
I
’
d have to do a
little trigonometry.

It was nearly six in the afternoon before Red got everything set up.

“
Oka
y, Trace,
”
Red said, looking down at his compass
,
“
s
he
’
s dead on
one
-
ninety
degrees
,
and the mast is
angled
exactly forty
-
five. The night
shift
will be here shortly
,
and we
’
ll fire her up and start making some hole.
”

“
Good work, Red,
”
I replied.
“
G
rab a
chip
sample every five feet
. W
e
’
ll start pulling core at about three hundred feet.
”

“
Sounds good, Trace. You
’
ll be here to start the coring, right?
”

“
Yes,
s
ir
.
”

Red nodded
,
but was looking over my head to a point up the mountain.

“
Don
’
t turn just yet, Trace
. W
ait a sec and then look about
half
-
way up the mountain behind you. We
’
re being glassed.
”

I paused a
couple of
second
s
, did a
half
-
turn and bent down as if tying my boot. Looking up, I saw the sun reflect of
f
glass.

“
Got to be binoculars,
”
I said, standing and turning back to Red.

“
Huckleberry pickers?
”
Red said
,
with a grin.

“
Ah
. . .
I
doubt it
.
I think we may have ca
ught the interest of an old
-
time mining promoter. Could be one of his drones.
”

“
Anybody I know?
”

“
Ever hear of Cyrus McSweeny?
”

“
Everybody in mining knows that
slimy so
-
and
-
so
. I thought he was in prison for tax evasion
.
”

“
He was. Did five years and been out a couple.
”

“
Did it temper the old bastard?
”

“
Not noticeably.
”

“
Okay, so how do you want to play it
?
”

“
Well, with us drilling
twenty-four-seven
, it will be hard for
anybody to
stir up much of a fuss. Main thing is securing the core. I
’
ve rented a building from Bobby Malott down in Winthrop.
We
’
ll split, store
,
and ship core samples from there.
I
’
ll talk to Bob about security at his yard.
”

“
We could be vulnerable when we move the core boxes from here to yard,
”
Red added.

“
Good point, Red. I
’
ll transport the cores myself
,
when I
’
m here. Otherwise,
haul it
to Bob
’
s yard with the crew change
.
I
’
ll call the
c
ounty
s
heriff,
Henry
Orvis
,
he
’
s my cousin
,
and tell him what
’
s going on. Maybe he
’
ll
run a deputy up here once in a
while. Kind of show the
badge
.
”

Red nodded
in
agreement.
“
For extra security,
I
’
ll send
Luke Johnson, one of my hands, with you
when you
’
re transporting core
s
.
He don
’
t bath
e
too regular
,
and he chews old stogies like
they was
chewing tobacco
. But
in a fight, he
’
s as mean and nasty as they come.
”

“
Perfect
,
”
I said
,
with a chuckle
.
“
P
lus
,
I
’
ll have
Mr.
Smith and
Mr.
Wesson riding with me at all times.
I
’
ll see you in the morning.
”

*****

On my way back to
Winthrop
,
I
put in a call to the
s
heriff
’
s office
in Okanogan
.

“
Sheriff
’
s
o
ffice, Deputy Haines speaking.
”

“
Deputy
Haines
, this is Trace Brandon
. I
s the
s
heriff around?
”

“
Yeah, Trace
. H
ang on and I
’
ll get him.
”

Cousin
Henry
Orvis
had been
s
heriff of Okanogan
County
for about eighteen years
,
and
had
a
lways
been
re
-
elected by a large margin.
Now in his fifties, he had the Orvis side of the famil
y
:
dark complexion and jet
-
black hair.
Henry
was about six feet
tall
, thin,
and
wiry
with a bushy mustache.
He looked a hell of a lot like
the actor
,
Sam Elliot
t
, and
he
was a dead shot.

“
Hey, Trace,
”
Henry
said
.
“
L
ong time no see.
”

“
Yes,
sir
. How
’
s the
s
herif
f
in
’
business?
”

“
Never a dull moment. Hell, last week a couple of cowboys go
t
drunk
e'
d up and tried to re
-
enact the old Omak Stampede Suicide Race.
Mashed
-
hat
gallop r
ight through town
,
d
own the hill into the Okanogan River,
full
-
tilt
k
amikaze
.
”

“
D
amn
. D
id they make it?
”

“
Hell no
!
”
Henry
chortled
.
“
W
e had to fish their sorry asses out of the river before the
y
drowned.
We
’
re
s
till looking for their
damned
horses
.
So
,
what
’
s up
,
cousin?
”

I gave
Henry
a brief overview of the Sullivan Mine project
,
and then got to
t
he Virus.

“
I
'm
sure you know of Cyrus McSweeny?
”
I asked.

“
Yes, is he still causing trouble at his age? Hell
,
he
’
s got to be in his sixties by now.
”

“
Yes
,
and yes. He
’
s like a cancer that just won
’
t quite go into remission.
”

“
Is he giving you trouble?
”

“
Nothing yet, other than his offer to
b
e my partner. But someone is watching the drill site. We saw the sun glint off the
ir binocs
.
”

“
Well, cousin, there
’
s not a hell of a lot I can do until they do something illegal.
”

“
Understood. But
,
maybe you
could send a deputy up
our way
,
now and then.
K
ind of show the
badge
a bit.
”

“
Be
glad to. I
’
m
supposed to be up your way in a few days. I
’
ll give you a holler
. Y
ou can buy me lunch
,
and we
’
ll
let your audience know the sheriff
’
s in town.
”