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Authors: Jon Sharpe
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said you were wounded.”
“Took one in the shoulder,” Fargo said, “but I’ve had worse.”
Marshal Davis nodded. “Sorry to hear about Cain. He was a good man.”
Fargo glanced around to make sure no one was in the jail who could overhear the conversation. He trusted his sense about this man, and he knew this marshal’s reputation. The man could be trusted.
“Cain was shot, but he may not be dead just yet,” Fargo said. “I don’t honestly know. I sent him with one of his men to hide in a hotel in Placerville. I don’t know if he made it or not, but I figured it was the better hand to play, letting the bushwhackers think he was dead.”
The marshal looked confused. “Why?”
Fargo spent the next few minutes telling the marshal everything he knew about Henry and Sarah Brant, and all the details, including Daniel’s presence among the robbers.
“The kid’s using the neighbor’s mine to make a play on his father,” the marshal said, clearly disgusted.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Fargo said. “Before he joined in with the Brants, Daniel was a good kid. A little gold hungry, but still a good kid. I think Sarah Brant is the one pulling his strings.”
“Henry Brant is known for cutting corners and taking shortcuts. And I’ve heard his mine is starting to play out. It would make sense he’s using the kid.”
“I heard the same thing about the mine,” Fargo said. “And there are rumors that they’re digging underground toward Cain’s tunnels. But to confirm all that, I have to find Daniel.”
“If he’s still alive,” Marshal Davis said. “If Henry Brant thinks that Cain is dead, it would be simple to kill Daniel and take over the Cain mine.”
“My thinking exactly,” Fargo said. That was his biggest worry outside of Cain living. Daniel didn’t have a very long life ahead of him if Fargo didn’t get this cleared up.
“So what can I do to help?” Marshal Davis asked.
Fargo had been hoping the marshal would ask that question. “I’ve got some ore to recover, so I could really use your help looking through town for Daniel, if you know what he looks like.”
“I’ve met him. You think he’s here?”
“I’m not sure, but one of the robbers left the wagon and came into town. I’m guessing it was Daniel. If I don’t find him with the gold, he’s either here or already dead.”
“What do you want us to do with him if we find him?”
“Don’t arrest him,” Fargo said. “That would tip them off to what you know. Just keep an eye on him until I get back and can work some truth out of the kid.”
“You got it,” the marshal said. Then he smiled. “Your men are down at the Mine Shaft Saloon near the river. You need a few more men to go with you on your recovery operation? I could spare a few to join you. I wouldn’t mind coming along myself, to be honest.”
Fargo shook his head. “No, thanks. This one is personal. I’m going to go it alone. I’ll let you know what happens.”
“Can’t say as I blame you, Fargo,” the marshal said. “Good hunting.”
Two hours later, after a good breakfast, Fargo turned south at the intersection off the Placerville road, once again following the wagon tracks.
Three miles south of Sacramento, the tracks turned off the main trail and headed back east and into a deep valley coming down out of the mountains. There was no doubt that this trail dead-ended up this valley. The trail had obviously been seldom used, so it would have almost no traffic. Fargo had to respect the choice of a hideout by the robbers. It was close enough to town and the Placerville road, yet isolated and easy to defend and guard.
Fargo veered off the trail and took the Ovaro up a ridge, moving slowly and carefully, following game trails that ran along the valley sides.
An hour later he found what he was looking for. Near where the canyon turned into a box canyon against three steep walls of rocks, a wisp of smoke from a fire drifted above the trees.
From that
“Took one in the shoulder,” Fargo said, “but I’ve had worse.”
Marshal Davis nodded. “Sorry to hear about Cain. He was a good man.”
Fargo glanced around to make sure no one was in the jail who could overhear the conversation. He trusted his sense about this man, and he knew this marshal’s reputation. The man could be trusted.
“Cain was shot, but he may not be dead just yet,” Fargo said. “I don’t honestly know. I sent him with one of his men to hide in a hotel in Placerville. I don’t know if he made it or not, but I figured it was the better hand to play, letting the bushwhackers think he was dead.”
The marshal looked confused. “Why?”
Fargo spent the next few minutes telling the marshal everything he knew about Henry and Sarah Brant, and all the details, including Daniel’s presence among the robbers.
“The kid’s using the neighbor’s mine to make a play on his father,” the marshal said, clearly disgusted.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Fargo said. “Before he joined in with the Brants, Daniel was a good kid. A little gold hungry, but still a good kid. I think Sarah Brant is the one pulling his strings.”
“Henry Brant is known for cutting corners and taking shortcuts. And I’ve heard his mine is starting to play out. It would make sense he’s using the kid.”
“I heard the same thing about the mine,” Fargo said. “And there are rumors that they’re digging underground toward Cain’s tunnels. But to confirm all that, I have to find Daniel.”
“If he’s still alive,” Marshal Davis said. “If Henry Brant thinks that Cain is dead, it would be simple to kill Daniel and take over the Cain mine.”
“My thinking exactly,” Fargo said. That was his biggest worry outside of Cain living. Daniel didn’t have a very long life ahead of him if Fargo didn’t get this cleared up.
“So what can I do to help?” Marshal Davis asked.
Fargo had been hoping the marshal would ask that question. “I’ve got some ore to recover, so I could really use your help looking through town for Daniel, if you know what he looks like.”
“I’ve met him. You think he’s here?”
“I’m not sure, but one of the robbers left the wagon and came into town. I’m guessing it was Daniel. If I don’t find him with the gold, he’s either here or already dead.”
“What do you want us to do with him if we find him?”
“Don’t arrest him,” Fargo said. “That would tip them off to what you know. Just keep an eye on him until I get back and can work some truth out of the kid.”
“You got it,” the marshal said. Then he smiled. “Your men are down at the Mine Shaft Saloon near the river. You need a few more men to go with you on your recovery operation? I could spare a few to join you. I wouldn’t mind coming along myself, to be honest.”
Fargo shook his head. “No, thanks. This one is personal. I’m going to go it alone. I’ll let you know what happens.”
“Can’t say as I blame you, Fargo,” the marshal said. “Good hunting.”
Two hours later, after a good breakfast, Fargo turned south at the intersection off the Placerville road, once again following the wagon tracks.
Three miles south of Sacramento, the tracks turned off the main trail and headed back east and into a deep valley coming down out of the mountains. There was no doubt that this trail dead-ended up this valley. The trail had obviously been seldom used, so it would have almost no traffic. Fargo had to respect the choice of a hideout by the robbers. It was close enough to town and the Placerville road, yet isolated and easy to defend and guard.
Fargo veered off the trail and took the Ovaro up a ridge, moving slowly and carefully, following game trails that ran along the valley sides.
An hour later he found what he was looking for. Near where the canyon turned into a box canyon against three steep walls of rocks, a wisp of smoke from a fire drifted above the trees.
From that
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