Read Online West of Washoe by Tim Champlin - Free Book Online Page A

Rucker said, shrugging muscular shoulders into his galluses. “I agreed tostay with Jake and look after him for whatever time he has left…which ain’t long, I’m guessing.”
    “What’s wrong with him? I bought him some food and he was telling me a tale…”
    “He let you buy him lunch? I’m surprised. He has money…a small union pension…and a lot of pride.” He sat down on the bunk to pull on his heavy socks and brogans. “Jacob has what the doctor calls silicosis. Lungs are ruined from breathing rock dust. He ain’t the first to get it, and sure as hell won’t be the last.”
    “He was blaming Avery Tuttle for it.”
    Rucker looked up sharply, finished tying his shoes, then rose and came across the room.
    “What did he tell you?”
    Ross repeated Sturm’s story.
    “ Hmmm …” Rucker smoothed his sweeping mustache as he stared out the window at the dreary, manmade hills of spoil a quarter mile behind the house.
    “Ross…Ross…? Are you that mine inspector I read about yesterday in the Enterprise ?”
    “That’s right.”
    Rucker turned back toward him and seemed undecided about what to say next.
    “Basically, what Sturm told you is true. I work at the Blue Hole, too. Fact is, my shift starts at six this evening. I would have kept Jake here, but I was sound asleep when he slipped out. He does that when he gets a chance. I don’t want him to get hurt. He’s too weak to pick a fight, except by what he says, along with that sign he carries. He’s dying and he’s bitter. Accuses Tuttle of damned near everything that’s wrong with the world.”
    “Can’t say as I blame him, if this Tuttle is really that bad.”
    Rucker hesitated again. “Did you help Jake becauseyou were trying to get information from him about the mine?”
    “Partially. But I also saw a down-and-outer who needed help, and I gave him a hand before somebody came along and kicked him because of that sign he was holding.”
    “Who you inspecting these mines for?”
    “The government. I’m to report on the state of mining in general and give an estimate of mineral prospects on the whole Comstock.”
    Rucker considered this for a moment. “If I let you in on something, do I have your word that you’ll keep quiet about where you got the information?”
    “You have my hand on it.” He gripped the miner’s rough palm.
    “This Tuttle is scum, all right, but for reasons besides what Jake told you.”
    Ross leaned against the upright post of the bunk bed and listened.
    “We’ve talked about Tuttle at our union meetings, and been gathering evidence to set the law on him. Some of our miners suspect he’s actually salting that worthless dirt and rock with high-grade silver ore, once the stuff is hauled topside. We haven’t actually caught anybody in the act of doing it yet. But Jake came close. Just before he had to quit, he heard a shotgun blast in one of the tunnels, went to investigate, and found the tunnel wall peppered with flecks of gold somebody had shot into it. The gold hadn’t been there a half hour before. The stock of the Blue Hole has been rising in San Francisco. When it gets up to where Tuttle wants it, he’ll likely sell out.”
    “If you give me the evidence, I’ll expose him and save the union from doing it.” If there was anything Ross hated—even more than an upfront, armed robber—itwas a sneak thief and a cheat. And this man was a brutal owner besides. He’d be glad to take the risk of exposing him.
    “We’ll take care of Avery Tuttle,” Rucker said. “I thought all this would come to light before now anyway, since The Territorial Enterprise has run some stories accusing the editor of The Gold Hill Clarion, Frank Fossett, of salting mines. Fossett is a one-third owner of the Blue Hole.”
    Ross tried not to show his surprise. Using only rumors, Clemens had accidentally accused the right man in print.
    “And that’s not the end of Tuttle’s dirty tricks,” Rucker went on, pacing the floor in