“That isn’t the way I read it in a book called Tombstone Days.”
“No, it isn’t. I read the book myself and might have swallowed that story, but ten years ago, when I wrote my thesis, my mother’s uncle, Old Chief Vincento, was still alive. He told me the real story. He saw Walker do it.”
“Saw him kill Fargo?” Johnny asked sharply.
Danny Sage nodded. “Yep!”
“Funny he didn’t turn Walker in...”
“Why would he have done that?”
“Well, why wouldn’t he?”
Danny looked sidewards at Johnny. “You don’t know Indians, pal. Not the old-timers. They thought the white people were crazy scratching for gold and silver. And the whites...” he frowned a little. “Well, they thought the Indians were savages. An Indian wouldn’t have been believed. Not in 1883...”
He pointed ahead. “There’s Hansonville.”
Chapter Fifteen
Danny Sage had averaged a mile a minute coming from Tombstone. He slackened his speed, however, to give Johnny and Sam the opportunity of seeing Hansonville. Only one quick glance was required, for Hansonville consisted of about a dozen tumble-down weathered shacks.
They continued through the little ghost town, picked up speed; then Danny slackened again as they neared a group of freshly-painted modern frame buildings, around which was a surprisingly new and strong steel fence, with a couple of strands of barbed wire on top. A sign over the top of one of the buildings read: HANSONVILLE MINING CORPORATION.
“The only real mine still around here,” Danny commented. “Henderson’s...”
Johnny stiffened. Since he was jammed up against Danny Sage the latter could not help but feel the sudden hardening of Johnny’s muscles. He looked sidewards. “Know Henderson?”
“You don’t mean Mike Henderson, do you?” Sam Cragg blurted out.
“Why, yes. He was a classmate of mine at State U. Smart lad. His father left him a bankrupt cattle ranch and Mike right away goes out and finds himself a bonanza silver mine... Of course he took up metallurgy and mineralogy at the University, but so did I — and I haven’t discovered any mines.”
He suddenly braked the car, skidded it to a stop at the side of the little-used road. “Well, here we are,” he exclaimed.
Johnny looked around the landscape. “Where?”
Danny Sage pointed. “Right there.”
Johnny followed the pointing finger. He saw a weather-beaten shed some fifty yards from the road, a shed under which appeared to be a well.
“The Silver Tombstone,” said Danny Sage.
He opened the door on his side and climbed out. Johnny followed, then Sam.
“Doesn’t look like a mine to me,” said Sam, voicing Johnny’s own thoughts.
Danny Sage led the way toward the shed. “She doesn’t look like much today, but she produced twelve million in her time. This hill,” pointing to the sage-covered knoll behind the shed, “is the old slag dump. You can see that they brought out a lot of ore, at one time.”
The slag dump was almost a hundred feet high and easily twice that many feet in area. The shed in front of it was merely a roof propped up on posts. In the center protruded a shaft containing a rusted, decrepit-looking winch and an elevator platform. The cable alone looked fairly new; it was well-greased.
“What’s your interest in this hole?” Danny asked as Johnny examined the premises. “I know there’s been a lot of talk about Tompkins striking a rich vein, but that’s a lot of nonsense.”
“What makes you think it is?”
“Because Tompkins hasn’t done any more work on this mine than I have.”
“Have you done any?”
Danny Sage shrugged. “I went down in it once or twice.” He frowned and looked out over the landscape. Johnny followed his gaze and saw, almost a half a mile away, the buildings of the Hansonville Mining Corporation.
“Tell me,” said Johnny, “is Henderson’s mine paying out?”
“It was in bonanza a year ago and all reports have it that they’ve found a new vein,” replied Danny Sage. “But I noticed the other day that they haven’t got as many men working there as they used to have.”
Johnny nodded thoughtfully. “Who’s Joe Cotter?”
Danny Sage turned and looked Johnny in the eye. “What do you know about Joe Cotter?”
“I’ve met him.”
Sam Cragg scowled. “If I meet him again, I’ll murder him...”
“I’ll make a bet on that,” said Danny. “Joe’s the strongest man in the state — maybe the entire Southwest.”
“How much will you bet?” Johnny asked.
“You name it.” Danny sized up Sam Cragg. After a moment he shook his head. “The build’s all right-close to the ground, but I’ve got a cousin I think could throw you two falls out of three...”
“Bring him around,” Sam challenged.
“You saw him this morning.”
“You can bring any two of those guys,” Sam growled. “And Joe Cotter, too,”
“Are you kidding?”
“My money’s on Sam,” said Johnny, “against any or all of your family — with Joe Cotter thrown in.”
Danny Sage was again looking off. A twinkle came to his eyes. “You’re lucky Joe Cotter’s away.”
There was a car coming up the road, an open convertible. Johnny watched it as it came swiftly toward them. Then he exclaimed, “Joe Cotter!”
“Yeah,” said Danny Sage. “Still want to make that bet?”
Sam Cragg promptly peeled off his coat. “This is the chance I’ve been waiting for.”
“Wait a minute,” said Johnny. “Helen Walker’s with him.”
“What of it?”
Joe Cotter pulled up his car behind that of Danny Sage. He jumped out from behind the wheel and ran around to help Helen Walker, but the latter was already out of the car.
The two came swiftly up the incline toward the Silver Tombstone. As they approached it became obvious that they had already recognized Johnny and Sam. Cotter strode ahead.
“I didn’t think you could make it here,” he exclaimed as he came up. “You’re both under arrest.”
“Ah-rr!” choked Sam, stepping forward.
Joe Cotter looked at him calmly. “The amateur strong man. Still want to tangle, eh?” He shook his head. “Sorry I can’t oblige you. This is my bailiwick...”
Sam Cragg lunged for him, but Joe Cotter stepped swiftly aside and whipped out an automatic. “I represent the law around here,” he snapped. “The California police are looking for you and I’m going to hold you for them...”
Sam Cragg faced Cotter. “Put down the roscoe,” he dared. “Put it down and we’ll see if you’re as strong as you think you are.”
“I’m strong enough to tie you into knots,” said Joe Cotter.
Johnny Fletcher was looking steadily at Helen Walker. “That was a dirty trick,” he said.
She averted her glance for a moment, then suddenly looked him squarely in the eye. “Yes — it was. I waited all evening. You could have telephoned, at least.”
Joe Cotter reached out and grabbed Johnny roughly. The latter tried to shake him off, couldn’t. He squirmed around. “Let go of me...”
Sam Cragg threw himself forward. Joe Cotter struck out at him with the automatic, but was handicapped through having hold of Johnny with his other hand. As a result he landed only a glancing blow on Sam’s shoulder. Then Sam’s thick arm swished down and cut across Cotter’s forearm. The automatic flew out of Cotter’s hand, sailed through the air and landed ten feet away. Danny Sage scooped it up.