Devil's Canyon (2 page)

Slowly the barkeep lowered the shotgun, as Faro
backed his chair away from the table and got to his feet. When he reached the door, he nodded to his three companions. While Faro stood there, his hand on the butt of his holstered Colt, Shanghai, Tarno, and Dallas filed out of the saloon. Faro then stepped out, closing the door behind him.

“Don't be a damn fool, Shankler,” said a patron who had seen the play. “You're callin' out an
hombre
with the bark on. He ain't like the glory-hungry kids you're used to.”

“Mind your own damn business, Hugo,” Shankler said.

Shankler stepped out the saloon door onto the boardwalk. Faro leaned against a hitch rail on the other side of the street. Faro's three companions stood aside, out of the line of fire. Shankler hitched up his gun belt and tilted his hat over his eyes.

“There's still time to back off, Shankler,” said Faro.

“I could say the same fer you,” Shankler said. “I just don't think you're man enough to take me, bucko.”

“When you're ready, then,” said Faro.

Shankler drew first, and his gun was only half out of his holster when Faro's lead hit him just above the left pocket of his shirt. He stumbled back against the saloon door and it opened, allowing him to collapse on the floor. Men who had been watching out the window of the saloon gathered around.

“Old Juno's been askin' fer that,” somebody said. “He's always been long on guts an' short on judgment.”

“Somebody git the sheriff,” said the barkeep. “I
want his carcass took out, an' I ain't wantin' it said he was shot in here.”

The sheriff arrived in due time. He was in the saloon only a few minutes when he went looking for Faro Duval. Faro had remained standing where he had been when he had been forced to shoot Shankler. His three companions had moved in behind him.

“You got witnesses a-plenty,” said the lawman. “I'm Sheriff Easton. Who are you?”

“I'm Faro Duval. These are my partners, Shanghai Taylor, Tarno Spangler, and Dallas Weaver. We're not wanted and we're not huntin' anybody. We drove in four wagon loads of freight from Independence, and we'll be goin' back there, soon as we scare up some freight to take with us.”

“I'm some relieved to hear that,” said Easton. “There's others around here that's of the same mind as Juno. I'd not want them testing you.”

“That's entirely up to them,” Faro said. “I take no pleasure in killin' a man, but some won't settle for anything less.”

“Then take my advice and stay out of the saloons,” said the lawman.

Easton started back to the saloon just as a tall man in miner's clothes stepped out on the boardwalk.

“Wait up, gents,” he said. “I want to talk to you.”

Faro and his companions waited, and when he was near enough, the stranger spoke again.

“I'm Levi Collins. I gathered from what I heard that you men are teamsters.”

“We are,” said Faro. “We just brought four wagon loads of freight from Independence, and we're lookin'
for some freight bound for there. I'm Faro Duval, and my partners are Shanghai Taylor, Tarno Spangler, and Dallas Weaver. What can we do for you?”

Collins rested his eyes on each of them for a moment, liking what he saw. They stood over six feet, Faro and Shanghai with dark hair, while Tarno and Dallas had hair the color of wheat straw. To a man, they were dressed like cowboys, from their wide-brimmed hats to their undershot, high-heeled boots. Collins judged them all less than twenty-five, and all four carried tied-down Colts. Collins spoke.

“It's near suppertime. I'm buying, if you'll listen to what I have to say. I may have some work for you.”

“You don't look like an
hombre
needin' four loads of freight hauled to Independence,” said Dallas.

Collins laughed. “To the contrary, the hauling I have in mind will take you west, but the reward will be great.”

“We'll listen,” Faro said, “but I won't promise any more than that.”

“That's all I ask,” said Collins.

He led the way to a cafe, and men were already pointing to Faro as a result of his having gunned down Juno Shankler. They took their seats near the back of the cafe, and Collins spoke again.

“You're mighty sudden with a pistol, Mr. Duval. Do the rest of you…”

His voice trailed off, for the eyes of the four men had suddenly grown cold.

“I…I didn't mean that like it probably sounded,” said Collins. “What I should have said is that the journey I am about to propose will take us through Ute
country, and how handy a man is with a gun could mean the difference between living and dying.”

“We manage to protect ourselves and our freight,” Tarno Spangler said.

“Yes,” said Shanghai Taylor, “and in case you're wondering, we can carry our weight with Winchesters, too.”

Collins laughed. “That's exactly what I was wondering. I don't have to tell you that, during an Indian attack, it's important to pick off as many as possible before they get in close with their arrows.”

“Now that you've got our attention,” said Faro, “why don't you lay the rest of your cards on the table?”

“I aim to,” Collins replied. “Isaac Puckett, Felix Blackburn, Josh Snyder, and me have a gold claim on the Sevier River, in southwestern Utah. We're lookin' for teamsters with the sand to wagon in supplies, and when we have enough ore, haul it out.”

“Whoa,” said Dallas. “I seem to recall there was once a trade route through there, to California. That country's got more canyons and arroyos than Kansas has prairie dogs, and it's nigh impossible for anything to get through there, except mules.”

“If we was goin' all the way to California, I'd have to agree,” Collins said, “but takin' care, a good teamster can get a wagon as far as our claim on the Sevier River.”

“Givin' you the benefit of the doubt,” said Faro, “how far would that be?”

“Five hundred miles,” Collins replied.

“My God,” said Shanghai, “and there's hostile Utes between here and there?”

“Entirely too damned many,” Collins said. “The canyons and arroyos, when they're not flooded, are prime prospects for an Indian ambush.”

“For a gent hopeful of hirin' teamsters, you ain't painted a very rosy picture,” said Tarno.

“I didn't intend to,” Collins replied. “I'm not one to mislead a man.”

“So far,” said Faro, “that's the biggest thing in your favor. As a rule, we don't look for work that appears easy. If it was, either it wouldn't pay worth a damn, or everybody would be clamorin' for it. Pay-wise, what are you offering?”

“A thousand dollars a man for all of you,” Collins said.

“If we was just haulin' in your supplies, then turnin' around and bringin' out your ore, that's a fair price,” said Faro, “but from what you've said, you have considerably more than that in mind. Am I right, when I say you have yet to work the mine, before there
is
any ore?”

“You are correct,” Collins said. “Before I come here to buy supplies and to try and hire some teamsters, my partners and me reckoned we'd have to sweeten the pot. Here's what we come up with.”

From an inside coat pocket, he removed a sheet of paper which he unfolded and gave to Faro. After studying it, he passed it around the table to his three companions. Each of them read it, and Shanghai passed it back to Collins. Faro spoke.

“You're offering a quarter-share of your claim to us, for our services, then.”

“That's right,” said Collins, “and them services
would include takin' the time for us to work the mine, to produce some ore. You'd likely be there until spring, at least.”

“
Madre mía
,” Dallas said, “and how are we supposed to keep ourselves occupied for all them months?”

“You likely could shorten that time, if you help us work the claim,” said Collins, “or if that don't appeal to you, there's hostile Utes to be shot.”

“By God,” Tarno said, “you
do
make it sound interesting. Was it just me, I'd likely go along with you, but these other
hombres
…”

“These other
hombres
have another question,” said Faro. “How do we know we won't break our backs on a hard-scrabble claim for a year, shootin' hostile Utes in between, only to have this claim come up dry, without enough gold to fill a tooth?”

Collins laughed. “I expected that.”

He looked carefully around, and when it appeared nobody was watching, removed a small canvas sack from his coat pocket. He then removed his hat, and turning it upside down on the table, dumped the contents of the sack into it. There was a dozen or more hunks of rock, each of them shot full of thin veins of gold. Faro hefted one, and found it predictably heavy.

“My God,” Tarno said, “that'd put the
Lost Dutchman
to shame. There's more?”

“Yes,” said Collins, “and to answer your next question, we don't know exactly how
much
more.”

“I've done some prospectin' in my time,” Shanghai said, “and mostly there's just two kinds of gold to be found. There's dust and nuggets, generally washed
down from a higher elevation, and you may poke around for the rest of your days, without findin' the source. Then there's the other kind—like this—that's been dug from a vein.”

“Yeah,” said Dallas, “but that vein may pinch out after a few feet.”

“That's always a possibility,” Collins conceded, “but this comes from just one of many such veins.”

“If there's more of this,” said Faro, “you have a bonanza. Have you registered the claim and had the ore assayed?”

“No,” Collins replied, “and I have my reasons. We don't want to start a gold rush, because we don't know where this claim will take us, and fightin' the Utes is plenty bad enough, without havin' to shoot claim jumpers. We figure to work the claim for a year. If there's plenty more gold, then we'll register the claim and stick with it until she runs dry. But as you can see, it's rich enough that a year's worth of diggin' can set us all up for the rest of our lives.”

The waiter arrived with their food, and Collins quickly swept the gold-laden hat off the table and into his lap. Collins had said just enough, and they proceeded to eat. Not until they were drinking final cups of coffee did anybody speak.

“Collins,” said Faro, “if there's more gold where that came from, the proposition you just made us is beginnin' to seem worth the risk. I'm speaking for myself, now. Each of my
amigos
will make his own decision.”

“Count me in,” Shanghai said.

“Same here,” said Tarno.

“I'll go,” Dallas said, “but if it turns out this claim's been salted, just to lure us into haulin' supplies five hundred miles through the devil's backyard, then I'll get mean.”

Collins laughed. “I don't blame you, my friend, but you have nothing to worry about. Do you think I'd be spending every dollar we own for supplies, and then hauling them five hundred miles into the mountains, if there wasn't some reward?”

“He has something there, Dallas,” said Faro. “Collins, do you honestly believe you'll need four wagon loads of supplies to last a year?”

“Yes,” Collins replied, “and I just hope that'll be enough. We have four pack mules and our horses, and there are your teams. They'll need grain at least twice a week, maybe every day, when snow flies.”

“Maybe you're right,” said Faro. “Besides our teams, we each have a horse.”

“We're likely to need one wagon just for shells for our Colts and Winchesters,” Tarno said. “All the gold in Utah won't be worth a damn, if them Utes attack and we discover we just opened our last tin of shells.”

“I'm taking all that into account,” said Collins. “There's virtually no game, especially in winter, so everything will have to be freighted in.”

“One thing bothers me,” Faro said. “There's always a bunch of
hombres
around the saloons and mercantiles that take an almighty lot of interest in other folks' business. When you take to buyin' supplies and ammunition by the wagon load, that's bound to arouse the curiosity of somebody. Like you said, a man don't spend that kind of money, unless he's got ideas of recoverin'
it, with interest. I'd not be surprised if we don't have to ventilate some claim jumpers
pronto
.”

“I hadn't considered that,” Collins said, “but you could be right. We're going to need maybe a wagon load of dynamite, and that's enough to stir up some interest.”

“My God, yes,” said Tarno. “That's enough dynamite to blow up all of Utah.”

“It won't be too much,” Collins said. “When you see the claim, and what we must move to reach the gold, you'll understand. Now, to prove my good intentions, I want all of you to fill in your names as one-quarter owners to our strike.”

“I reckon we'll have plenty of time for that,” said Faro.

“No,” Collins insisted, “I want all of you to begin thinking of yourselves as owners.”

“Have it your way,” said Faro. “You're a trusting man, Collins.”

“To the contrary,” Collins said, “I prefer to think of myself as a good judge of character. I watched you playing poker in the saloon. The man who taunted you—that you had to shoot—had been cheating. You could have called his hand, shot him, and been without fault, but you didn't. Not until he forced you, and even then, you didn't want to kill him. It takes a man to forgive a lesser man his faults, to accept his insults without returning them in kind.”

“All of us were with General Lee,” said Faro, “and we've seen enough dying to last us a lifetime. I'd never shoot a man for shootin' off his mouth, but when he pulls a gun, he'd better be almighty fast, because that's
where my patience ends. Now when do you aim to start buyin' those supplies?”