‘Bruce. This is Garry Keogh.’ I found my hand engulfed in the rasping grip of a fist that seemed like a chunk of rock. Garry Keogh took off his hat and tossed it on to the chair. His grizzled hair was cut short and he was partly bald. He looked like an all-in wrestler, but his eyes were those of a dreamer with a twinkle of humour in them that softened his face to something friendly. ‘I’ve almost talked him into doing the drilling for us,’ Boy added. ‘It was Garry’s rig I was wildcatting on during the winter.’
I stared at the big rig operator. ‘You think there’s oil up there?’
‘Sure and there maybe.’ He was Irish, but he spoke slowly, as though words were an unaccustomed commodity. It gave emphasis to everything he said. ‘Boy’s impetuous, but he’s no fool. I never met Campbell. I heard he was a crazy bird. But then the story of every strike is the story of men who were thought crazy till they were proved to have staked a mine.’ He grinned, showing the gaps in his teeth. ‘My father went to the Yukon in ‘98. That’s where I was born.’
‘But I don’t own the mineral rights of the Kingdom,’ I said. ‘Didn’t Boy tell you? They were mortgaged to Roger Fergus by my grandfather’s company and now that he’s dead they’ll pass to his son.’
Garry Keogh turned to Boy. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me that?’
‘But-’ Boy was staring at me. ‘Louis Winnick told me the old man had given you back the mineral rights. The day after you saw Roger Fergus he sent for Louis. He said he’d left him a legacy under his will. He told him about your visit and instructed him that he was to give you all the help you needed — free of any charge. He said it was a condition of the legacy. He wouldn’t have done that unless he’d known you were free to go ahead and drill in the Kingdom if you wanted to. You haven’t heard from the old man?’
I shook my head.
‘You’ve had no communication from him at all, or from his lawyers?’
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘The only mail I’ve had-’ I stopped then and turned to the table beside the bed. I picked up the envelope and split the seal. Inside was a package of documents. The letter attached to them wasn’t from Acheson. It was on Bank of Canada note-paper and it read: On the instructions of our client, Mr Roger Fergus, we are enclosing documents relating to certain mineral rights mortgaged to our client by the Campbell Oil Exploration Company. Cancellation of the mortgage is effective as from the date of this letter and we are instructed to inform you that our client wishes you to know that from henceforth neither he nor his estate will have any claim to these rights and further that any debts outstanding with the company referred to above, for which these documents were held as security, are cancelled. You are requested to sign the enclosed receipt and forward it….’ I opened out these documents. They were in respect of ‘The mineral rights in the territory known generally as Campbell’s Kingdom.’ There followed the necessary map references. I passed the papers across to Boy. ‘You were quite right,’ I said.
Boy seized hold of them. ‘I knew I was. If Roger Fergus said he’d do a thing, he always did it. Louis said he was pretty taken with you. Thought you’d got a lot of guts and hopes for Stuart’s sake you’d win out.’
I thought of the old man, half paralysed in that wheel-chair. I could remember his words — ‘A fine pair we are.’ And then: ‘I’d like to have seen one more discovery well brought in before I die.’ There was a lump in my throat as I remembered those words. ‘I’m glad you came. If your doctor fellow’s right, we’ll maybe meet again soon.’ It would be nice to tell him I’d brought in a well. But I wished he were in the thing with me. It would have been much easier. I needed somebody experienced. I looked across at Keogh and then at Boy, the two of them so dissimilar, but neither of them capable of fighting a big company backed by the solid weight of unlimited finance and with lawyers to make legal rings round our efforts. Boy didn’t understand what we were up against.
Keogh looked up from the documents Boy had passed him. He must have seen the doubt in my face for he said, ‘What do you plan to do, Wetheral — go ahead and drill?’
I hesitated. But my mind slid away from the difficulties. I could see only that old man sitting in the wheel-chair and behind him the more shadowy figure of my grandfather. Both of them had believed in me. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘If Winnick reports favourably, I’ll go ahead — provided I can get the capital.’
Keogh fingered his lower lip, his eyes fixed on me. They were narrowed and sharp — not cunning, but speculating. ‘You’d find it a lot easier to raise capital if you’d brought in a well,’ he murmured.
‘I know that.’
‘Boy mentioned something about your being willing to split fifty-fifty on all profits with those who do the development work.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘That’s about it.’
He nodded abstractedly, stroking his chin. His fingers made a rasping sound against the stubble of his beard. Then suddenly he looked up. ‘I’ve been in the oil business over twenty years now and I’ve never had a proposition like this made to me. It’s the sort of thing a drilling contractor dreams of.’ His broken teeth showed in a grin. ‘It’d be flying in the face of providence to refuse it.’ He turned to Boy. ‘If Win-nick’s report on that recording tape is optimistic then you’ll go up to the Kingdom and do another survey. Okay?’ Boy nodded. ‘If the proposition still looks good, then I’ll come up here again and look over the ground.’ He hesitated, staring down at me. ‘I’ll be frank with you, Wetheral. This is a hell of a gamble. I’ve made a bit on the last two wildcats I drilled. ‘Otherwise I wouldn’t be interested. But I’m still only good for about a couple of months operating on my own. To be any use to me, there’s got to be water handy and the depth mustn’t be more than a few thousand feet, dependent on the nature of the country we have to drill through. But if all that’s okay, then it’s a deal.’
‘Fine,’ I said.
He was staring down at his hands. ‘I started as a roustabout,’ he said slowly. ‘I worked fifteen years as roughneck, driller and finally tool-pusher before I got together enough dough to get my own rig. I was another five years paying for it. Now I’m in the clear and making dough.’ He smiled gently to himself. ‘Funny thing about human nature. Somehow it don’t seem able to stop. You own a rig and you think that’s fine and before you know where you are you’re wanting an interest in an oil well.’ His smile spread to a deep laugh. ‘I guess when a man’s finished expanding, he’s finished living.’ He turned abruptly to the door. ‘Come on, Boy. Time we had a drink. You care to join us, Wetheral?’
Thank you,’ I said. ‘But I’ve got some food coming up.’
‘Okay. Be seeing you before I leave.’
He went out. Boy hesitated. ‘It was the best I could do, Bruce. Garry’s straight and he’s a fighter! Once he gets his teeth into a thing he doesn’t let up easily. But I’m sorry about Roger Fergus.’
‘So am I,’ I said.
He had taken the spools containing the recording tape out of his pocket and was joggling them up and down on the palm of his hand. ‘Funny to think that these little containers may be the start of a new oilfield.’ He stared at them, lost in his own thoughts. And then he said an odd thing: ‘It’s like holding Destiny in the palm of one’s hands. If this proves Louis’ first report wrong…’ He slipped them into his pocket. ‘Jeff lent me his station wagon. I’ll get over to Keithley tonight so that they’ll catch the mail out first thing in the morning. We should get Louis’ report within three days.’ He had moved over to the door and he stood there for a moment, his hand on the knob. ‘You know, somehow that makes me scared.’ He seemed about to say something further, but instead he just said, ‘Goodnight,’ and went out.