“Scotty.”
“Yes, sir, Mister Silver.”
“Will you please just call me Ike?”
“All those years I worked for Mister Winthrop, I called him Mister Winthrop.”
“Well, I’m not Mister Winthrop, but if it’ll make you feel better, you can call my brother Mister Silver. He’s older than I am. Satisfactory?”
“Satisfactory . . . Ike. What was it you wanted?”
“I wanted to tell you . . . what a help you’ve already been, tell you how much we appreciate it . . . and discuss your salary.”
“Nothin’ to discuss. Whatever you think is fair.”
“How much was Mister Winthrop paying you?”
“Before he died?”
Ike smiled. “Yes, before he died.”
“Thirty dollars a month. That’s a dollar a day . . . some months.”
“Well, from now on you’re getting forty dollars a month. That’s about a dollar thirty-three cents day . . . some months. Satisfactory?”
“And since Ben Brown and his family have taken over your . . . accommodations back there, I’ve also arranged to pay for your room over at the Hassayampa. Is that satisfactory?”
“You bet. And you know somethin’ else . . . Ike? I been thinkin’. . .”
“About what?”
“There’s them that are a lot more ready for it than I am.”
“Ready for what?”
“Old Soldjer’s Home. Also, I decided to throw away this cane.”
“How’re you doing, Sister Bonney?” Ike asked.
“Well, as you can see, I’ve unloaded the books from the crate, along with a few personal items, which I’ve put away.”
“Good.”
“Mister Brown has volunteered to build a partition before he leaves in that corner, where I can sleep as soon as I get a bed.”
“I’m sure there’s one upstairs you can have.”
“Excellent.”
“And Mister Knight, he’s the newspaper man, you know . . .”
“Yes, I know.”
“He’s donating a desk and chair from the newspaper office.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m working on chairs for the children.”
“You’re sure there’ll be children?”
“Of course I am. Starting with yours.”
“Looks like you’re doing just fine. If you need anything, just ask Scotty or Jake. He and the boys are upstairs. I’ll be gone for awhile.”
“Taking a load of supplies to Sean Dolan up at the Rattlesnake Mine.”
“He’s a good man.”
“That he is, Sister.”
“Tell him I pray for his safety and the safety of his men at the mine.”
“Should I also tell him that you pray they’ll strike gold?”
“I believe the good Lord has more important things on his mind than such temporal matters. A safe journey to you, Ike.”
Hammering came from the stable as Ike Silver walked in with his Remington strapped around his waist, carrying a long gun. A beautiful—if any gun can be called beautiful—Henry rifle. A.44 caliber, fifteen shot type that weighed nine and a half pounds with a brass breach.
Ben Brown stopped hammering and looked up. “Looks like you’re loaded for bear, Mister Silver.”
Ike nodded. “Looks like . . . except there isn’t any bear out there.”
“Yeah, but there’s plenty of somethin’ else.”
“What’re you working on?”
Brown pointed the hammer toward the ceiling of the stable.
Ike smiled. “Looks like a little daylight showing through that roof.”
“And starlight.”
“And rain, if we ever get any.”
“Thought I’d patch it up some, before I get back to work on the rest of those wagons . . . if that’s all right with you?”
“Fine . . . and thanks for helping Scotty load up the supplies for the mine.”
Ben Brown nodded. “You gonna be leavin’ now?”
“Soon as I say so long to Jake and the boys.”
“Jake and the boys have come down to say so long to you.”
Jake had entered the stable followed by Jed and Obie, and then Melena with Benjie.
“Ike, you look like a one-man army,” Jake said.
Jed took a step toward his father. “Dad, you going out there all alone?”
“Oh, I’ve got Mister Henry here for company,”—he patted the gun in his holster—“and Mister Remington, but I’m sure I won’t need them.”
“It’s good to be sure,” Jake said, “but I still think I ought to go with you.”
“Nope. You’ve got to stay here. Somebody’s got to be in charge of the store and take care of the boys.”
“But Dad,” Obie said, “Jed and—”
“No buts. I’ll be back before—”
“Mister Silver.” Ben Brown looked from his wife back to Ike.
“Yes?”
“I’d care to go along, if you don’t mind.”
“Well . . .”
“It is my wagon . . .”
Melena smiled.
“And it is a two-man job. One to teamster and one to . . .”—he pointed to the Henry—” . . . if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind, if Melena . . .”
Melena, still smiling, nodded.
“Well, then,” Ike said, “I guess that settles that.”
From the front window of his office, Rupert Lessur stood watching—with Gallagher just behind him—as the wagon rolled by with Ben Brown at the reins and Ike Silver alongside.
“It appears,” Gallagher said, “that the two of ’em are heading for the Rattlesnake.”
“Yes,” Lessur nodded, “and you’re heading for somewhere else.”
“Huh? Where?”
Lessur walked to his desk and picked up a piece of paper.
“To where I told you. La Paz. The Colorado Queen is due in, and I’ve prepared a list of items for you to pick up and bring back to Prescott. I’m not going to let our wagons stay empty in La Paz forever.”
“But the Indians . . .”
“The Indians will be occupied with what’s going on at that mine . . . and with Mister Silver’s wagon. Besides, I’ve made arrangements with Colonel Crook this morning,” he lied.
“What kind of arrangements?”
“Crook’s sending out a patrol to escort you back once you get into Indian territory.”
“He is?”
“He is. Round up Rooster and the boys, tell them to get ready to ride.”
“Sure, boss, but . . .”
“But what?”
“Be all right if I stop over at the saloon and have just one drink first?”
“Go ahead.”
“Is this a dagger which I see before me?”
Binky was regaling half a dozen customers at a corner of the saloon.
“The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.”
He gazed at the empty glass held high in his grasp.
“Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible to feeling as to sight? Or art thou but a dagger of the mind? A false creation proceeding from the heat-oppresse’d brain . . .”
Belinda Millay sat at her usual table playing solitaire as Jim Gallagher walked in, nodded at her and proceeded to the bar.
Belinda rose and strolled over as Henry poured whiskey into a glass in front of Gallagher.
“Hello, Jim.” She smiled.
“Miss Millay.”
“Kind of early for you, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am. Having just one before I leave.”
“Where you going?”
“La Paz. Business for Mister Lessur.”
“Kind of dangerous business, isn’t it?”
“Like he said, that’s what I get paid for. Besides, he’s made arrangements with Colonel Crook to meet us on the way back with a patrol.”
“Does Colonel Crook know that?”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
“You know your friend, Ike Silver, is on his way to Rattlesnake with a load of supplies?”
“Yeah, somebody told me they saw him go by,” she said. “Seems like there’s an awful lot of traffic around here lately, all things considered.”
“Sure does.” Gallagher nodded and swallowed the whiskey in one swift gulp, then stared at the empty glass.
“Henry, maybe I ought to have one for the road.”
“Sure,” Henry said and started to pour.
“One pint,” Gallagher added.
Gallagher paid, put the pint of whiskey in his coat pocket and headed for the bat wings.
Binky had finished his oration and moved to the bar next to Belinda as Oliver Knight entered and joined them.
“May I buy you two a drink?”
“Not me,” Belinda said.
“In that case,” Binky said, “I’ll have a double.”
“Grand.” Knight smiled. “It’s time for my weekly celebration. I’ve just put my sweetheart to bed.”
“Your sweetheart?” Binky seemed surprised.
“Yes. The Prescott Independent.”
“Melena,” Sister Bonney said as she came into the kitchen, “I just heard.”
“Heard what, Sister?”
“That Ben went along with Ike to deliver those goods to Sean Dolan.”
“He sure did, Sister.”
“I was away trying to promote some necessities for the school.”
“I hope you were successful.”
“I think so. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to say good-bye. Was it your idea?”
“Was what my idea?”
“That Ben go along.”
“Oh, I had the idea, all right, but I knew better.”
“What do you mean, ‘knew better’?”
“Well, my husband’s a man set in his ways, and one of his ways is to do what he thinks is his idea . . . and so I let him think all the ideas are his, without my sayin’ anything. But sometimes I just look at him in a certain way, without sayin’ a word, mind you, and he gets the idea I was thinkin’ about . . . thinkin’ it was his idea in the first place. You understand what I’m sayin’?”
“I surely do, Melena, and as a matter of fact, I was sort of hoping, actually more than hoping, that it would work out this way. You understand what I’m saying?” She smiled.
“I surely do, Sister.” Melena also smiled.
A warm nomad wind whispered around boulders and through brush and jagged rocks and vast expanse as the loaded wagon with Ike and Ben aboard creaked and groaned toward the Rattlesnake Mine.
For miles the two men had ridden in silence. Then Ben spoke without looking at the man next to him.
“We’ll make a lot better time on the way back, but I don’t want to drive these animals too hard with this load.”
“You’re the teamster.” Ike smiled.
“You know somethin’,” Ben said, “you sure aren’t like hardly anybody else I ever met up with.”
“I’m not sure how you mean that, but neither are you.”
“Oh, I meant it kindly.”
“So did I.”
“What I mean is . . . well, hard to explain, but you don’t push people, do you?”
“Only when I’m pushed.”
“I’ve seen that too, like with them Keeler brothers. But you coulda done them a lot worse.”
“No. I think we’re all better off the way things turned out.”
“I guess so.”
“Those Keelers, they’re all right. Most of us have more in common than we think.”
There was a moment of silence; then Ben spoke, still without looking at Ike.
“You know somethin’, Mister Silver? You and I do have somethin’ more in common.”
“What’s that?”
“That, Mister Silver . . . seems to be the Rattlesnake Mine just ahead.”