A Reckoning

Chapter Five

Chapter FiveThere were enough of Dan's prospecting tools and equipment in the camp for both men to set about excavating the silver lode on the morning after they killed him. The killer sat on a boulder, reading through the papers, stumbling over some of the words, his mouth forming them silently. “Says nothing here about limitations of rights,” he said at last, folding the papers and stuffing them inside his shirt.

“What in hell does that mean?” said the other, studying a gnarled and chipped spade.

“I'm guessing that means there is no legal impediment to our prospecting and developing the mine.”

“Impediment? Jesus, Quincy, you sound like a damned lawyer.”

Stretching out his legs, Quincy beamed, basking in the words of his friend, liking the idea of being thought of as a lawyer. “Hell, Charlie, I ain't even been to school, saving Miss Franklyn's Sunday School back in Oakley when I was nothing but a kid. All we learned there was how to tie our bootlaces and recite the Lord's Prayer.”

“I ain't even been to no Sunday school,” said Charlie, hefting the spade. “I reckon, if there is no impediment, we should set to it without delay. Other people might have the same idea as us.”

“I doubt that. How could anyone else know?”

“The old-timer might have told people. We saw him at the bank. He may have been arranging a deposit for all we know. We need to be careful.”

Grunting, Quincy stood up. “You might have something there, Charlie. We need to protect our investment. I know the folk who work at the bank. It might secure our position if we were to silence any tittle-tattles.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

“I'll kill the bastards, that's what I'll do.”

Quincy screwed up his mouth. “Seems a mite extreme, Quincy.”

“Needs must. Let me ruminate on how best to do the deed. Hand me that pick, old friend, and I'll think it through whilst we're working.”

They worked through the best part of the day, sweating despite the raw cold. Muscles burned and sinews strained as they hacked and dug, cutting through the rock, opening up the initial hole made by Dan until it was big enough to crawl through. They shored up the roof with timber cut from the surrounding trees, lit animal fat candles to enable them to continue in the gloom and prized out hunks of rock with lines of precious metal running through them.

By the early evening, both exhausted, they lay stretched out on the ground, quenching their thirst with water taken from the stream. They slept in the open, ignoring the cold, mindless of any dangers.

The following day they huddled around the meagre campfire Charlie managed to make, their bodies trembling with the cold, limbs aching with the previous day's exertions.

“We should take it slower,” said Quincy. “If we continue at this rate, we'll end up killing ourselves.”

“Every day we linger is another day someone else might come here. We can't delay, Quincy.”

“Yeah, I know. And I've thought of something.”

Charlie drew closer, intrigued.

“If I'm right, then the only people he would have told would be those in the bank. Now, tomorrow is Sunday, and everyone will be at church. So, we work through today and tomorrow, then on Monday we ride into town at daybreak, set ourselves to watch.”

“Watch? Watch what?”

“The bank. When it opens, we stroll right on in and rob it.”

Charlie's mouth fell open, perplexed. His eyes grew wide and then he cackled, dismissively. “Jeez, Quincy, we don't need no more money. With all this here silver we could buy the entire—”

“I don't mean we rob it for the money.”

Charlie blinked a few times. “You're not making any sense at all, Quincy.”

“I mean, we pretend we're robbing it, and as we do, I'll shoot them all dead.”

“What? Are you out of your damned mind? We'll have an army of deputies tracking us down before the day is out!”

“We'll wear masks. No one'll know. We'll scoot back here and no one will ever think it's us, even if they do chase us, which I doubt.”

Digging at the pathetic embers of the dying fire with his boot, Charlie shook his head. “I don't know, Quincy, it all sounds mighty hazardous. We don't even know if them tellers and such know anything about the silver.”

“You said yourself we have to be careful.”

“Yeah, I know, but – hot damn, Quincy, I never meant we should murder the whole goddamned lot of 'em.”

“Well what else do you propose? We can't afford to take the risk.”

“I got a better idea. One not so dangerous.”

Now it was Quincy's turn to gape, bewildered. “You have a plan? Jesus, Charlie, I must be in a dream.”

Charlie's face grew dark and serious. “Just 'cause I ain't ever been given the opportunity, don't mean I can't think things through, Quincy. My idea will work, and it'll mean no damned posse will come hunting for us.”

Narrowing his eyes, features full of intrigue and pessimism, Quincy regarded his friend for a long time. “All right, Charlie. Tell me all about this fine plan of yours.”

And Charlie did. By the time he was finished, Quincy, convinced, if not a little surprised, agreed to everything his friend said.