Chapter 54
He pulled the team close to the buff-colored wall of limestone, found the thin rill of water that flowed down from the rock, formed a pool, and then disappeared into the ground fifteen feet or so on.
Longarm left the horses to stand in harness while he let down the tailgate of the big wagon and unlocked the Chinese. He motioned them out of the wagon.
The men came out chattering and broke into wide smiles when they saw the water. Longarm motioned them toward it to give them permission to bathe. Within seconds they were naked except for their shackles and chains. To a man they took turns sinking neck deep in the pool to cool and cleanse themselves.
Longarm hadn’t thought to buy food at Torrington’s store. All he had remaining in the wagon was a handful of jerky, far from enough to go around to all the Chinese, and he would not have felt comfortable eating now when they had to go hungry. He settled for collecting a can full of icy cold water from the spill above the pool. He drank a little, then put the rest over a small fire to boil coffee.
He had finished drinking that can and was considering boiling another when he saw a pair of horsemen come out of the CF&I property along the road that was—in theory at least—a public right of way. One of the two dropped off at the blacksmith shop beside Torrington’s. The other came on toward Longarm and the wagon.
Time to go to work, Longarm figured. He stood, kicked his fire apart, and waited for the horsebacker to reach him.
“Mr. Sohn,” Longarm said when the man stopped beside the wagon. “Edgar, right?”
“You have a good memory, Mr. Childs.” He laughed. “Or is it Mr. James?”
“James, actually. So tell me. D’you know where I can find this Dolan fellow?”
The laughter increased. “I’m Dolan.”
“Well, I’ll be a son of a bitch.”
“Aye, there’s a lot of us around. Say, I want to tell you. The boss really liked the way you handled me back there at Raton. You never skipped a beat with those phony names and you never gave nothing away. You did just fine.”
“Thanks, but . . . the boss, you say? I thought you was the boss, Dolan.”
“Not exactly, but you’re gonna meet him in just a little while. Now load your Chinks up . . . mind you chain them proper . . . and follow me. We have to go through the CF&I property and on to the other side. That’s where our diggings are.”
“Sure thing.” Longarm gave a shout and motioned for the Chinese to get back into the wagon, which they obediently did. He padlocked the central chains in place, put the tailgate back up, and climbed back onto the driving box.
The six-up followed Dolan past Torrington’s and around a sweeping curve to the right. There was an empty gatehouse—but no gate—just where the road started to climb into the foothills through a natural breech in the wall of limestone.
Beyond that were dozens of shanties, a company store, even a tiny, stone walled structure with a sign posted over the door saying JAIL. Apparently giant CF&I even took care of that for themselves.
Past the jail was a schoolhouse and beyond that the diggings. There was not much to be seen, all the work being done far underground, but there were mountains of coal waiting to be shipped. Black coal dust was everywhere. What once might have been a pretty little foothill valley was now starkly bare, all brown stone and black dust. Every last vestige of vegetation was gone, to the point that Longarm wondered if family gardens were not permitted on company property so as to force the workers and their families to trade at the company store and increase the company’s profits. He would not put a scheme like that past them.
The six-up followed a jog in the road, dropped down to ford a small stream, and began to climb again.
Dolan reined back so he was riding beside Longarm. “The boss’s mines are on the other side of this ridge here,” he said, pointing to the rugged mass off to their right, to the north.
At least, Longarm noticed, there was a little vegetation now that they seemed to be off CF&I land, juniper and scrub oak and small cactus. It wasn’t much, but at least it was green.
“How far to get there?” he asked Dolan.
The man grinned. “Another four miles or so before we can cross over and double back. You could do it on foot, of course, but there wouldn’t be no way to get a wagon over. Nor even a horse, I wouldn’t think.”
Longarm glanced toward the sky, then said, “That should put us there before dark.”
“Aye.” Dolan waved for him to follow and spurred his horse into a trot.
Longarm clucked to his team and shook the lines, and the big boys leaned into their harness and took a bone-jarring trot of their own.
Longarm looked around. Where the hell, he wondered, were Billy Vail and the boys. They should be here to back him up, shouldn’t they?