Lefty McNally and the Kiowa Kid were paid off by the railroad earlier that day. They received, as promised, five hundred dollars plus another hundred for bringing down Milo Paxton and Bill Hays even though Phineus Carrington had actually done the killing.
Standing on the street with the money bulging in their pockets, Lefty looked over at Kiowa. “Well? What do you think?”
“About what?” Kiowa asked.
“I reckon we’re gonna be rich from El Capitan,” Lefty said.
Kiowa grinned. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re already rich.”
Lefty nodded. “Yeah. But we’ll be rich from El Capitan anyhow.”
Kiowa gave him a careful look. “You got something on your mind, ain’t you?”
“Maybe,” Lefty allowed.
“Spill it!”
“I think we oughta give this here money to Miz Paxton,” Lefty said. “She ain’t got nothing and the folks around here is being powerful mean.”
Kiowa was thoughtful for a few minutes. “It’d be best for her if she got outta town.”
“Yeah. She could use the money for that,” Lefty said.
“And, like you said, we’re really already rich from El Capitan, ain’t we?” Kiowa asked. “So we can spare this cash money without any hurt to ourselves.”
“Sure! It’s like you always say about buffalo hunting. Never take more’n you really need.”
Kiowa sighed. “C’mon. Let’s go get it over with.”
A couple of days later, after reluctantly but gratefully accepting the funds, Mae Hays Paxton took her family back to the Cherokee Nation.
~*~
The El Capitan Mining Company boomed.
Phineus Carrington, now dressed in a manner befitting his education and demeanor, had become quite a figure around Helena. Well established in an office, invited to the best of homes, and treated with respect and awe, he loved the life of the grand entrepreneur.
Lefty and Milo acted as his assistants. They ran errands such as delivering money to the bank, picking up stock certificates from the printer, and being companions to the company president. They became as well known as Phineus and were sought after as drinking companions in the local saloons. As the men who not only destroyed the Paxton Gang but who would soon be millionaires, their company was valued among all segments of the local society – both high and low. People they didn’t even know greeted them on the street, and the city marshal was quite understanding and tolerant on one particular evening when they became especially drunk and ended up in a brawl with some cowboys passing through town.
This time it was the other fellows that went to the lock-up.
The hustle and bustle went on for over a month. Lefty and Kiowa stayed in the city’s best hotel, sleeping late every day. Phineus didn’t like to start business before lunch, so there was really no reason for rising early.
It was a typical day when Lefty and Kiowa, after getting out of bed at the crack of noon, wandered downstairs from their room and sauntered through the hotel lobby with the effects of the previous night’s whiskey pounding in their heads. When they stepped outside onto the boardwalk, they found a half-dozen investors waiting for them.
“Howdy, boys,” Lefty said.
“Howdy, McNally,” one of them said. “We want to talk to your boss.”
“Phineus is down to the office ’bout now,” Lefty said. He adjusted the collar of his brand new shirt. “I don’t want him bothered ’bout no trivial stuff. Anything I can do for you?”
“We just want to find out why he drawed all his money outta the bank late yesterday afternoon,” another investor said.
“Now how would you know that?” Kiowa asked.
“We know, don’t you worry none about that, Mr. Kiowa,” was the respectful reply.
Kiowa shrugged. “He does that all the time. We’re buying a steam digger, boys. We’ll be scooping silver a ton at a time outta that mountain.”
A third man stepped forward. “We’d just feel better if we saw him. So let’s take a little walk over there. What do you say, boys?”
“Sure,” Lefty said. “C’mon, fellers.”
The group went down the street and to the building that bore the bold sign reading:
EL CAPITAN SILVER MINING COMPANY P. CARRINGTON, Pres’t.
Kiowa turned the knob of the door and it opened. “Yeah, boys. He’s in.” He led the way into the outer office. “Make yourselves comfortable. We’ll fetch him right out.”
Kiowa and Lefty went into Phineus’ private office. It was empty and the safe stood open. Kiowa walked over to it and peered inside. “He’s took ever’thing out.”
“Prob’ly needed the extry money for the steam shovel,” Lefty said.
“Hell! He took the books, too,” Kiowa said.
Lefty noticed an envelope on the desk. It had his and Kiowa’s names on it. He opened and read the paper inside.
“What’s it say?” Kiowa asked.
Lefty’s face paled. “Well, it’s in his kinda roundabout style o’ saying things, but it adds up to the fact he got sick o’ prospecting and getting nowhere so he decided to sell stock and get some money for the new life he wanted.”
“That ain’t nothing new,” Kiowa said. “That’s what he said he was gonna do.”
“Yeah,” Lefty said. “Except he’s been doing it without really finding El Capitan.”
“But he sold stock in the mine,” Kiowa said.
“I reckon he just had worthless certificates printed up saying there really was a mine,” Lefty said.
“He lied?”
“It’s all here,” Lefty said. “He says here that he was getting older and his life was running out on him. This was his last chance for the big strike. If he couldn’t get it by silver or gold, he’d do it anyway he could.”
“There ain’t no El Capitan, right?” Kiowa asked still slightly confused. As a man who came from a culture where lying wasn’t practiced, he always had trouble working out the intricacies of even blatant untruths.
“That’s what he’s saying,” Lefty replied.
“So the stock ain’t any good that he’s been selling, is that right?”
“You mean that we been selling,” Lefty pointed out.
“And it ain’t worth a frog turd.”
“Damn!” Kiowa said. “The whole thing is a bust!”
“He says he’s real sorry for dragging us into it, but he left some money for us in the desk,” Lefty said. “It’s five thousand dollars.”
“That money came from folks that thought they was investing in a mining operation,” Kiowa said.
“It ain’t really ours, is it?” Lefty said.
“Nope.”
“I think we better give it back so’s it can be divided up among the fellers that got sharped by Phineus,” Lefty said.
“Me, too,” Kiowa agreed. “That seems only right, don’t it?”
“It sure does,” Lefty remarked sadly.
“Yeah. But it also means that now we ain’t got any money,” Kiowa said. “We give what the Northwest and Canadian paid us to Paxton’s widder. We’ll have to go back to working for the railroad.”
“Doing what?” Lefty asked. “There ain’t nobody robbing ’em right now.”
“Then we’ll shovel shit outta cattle cars!” Kiowa snapped. “I don’t care.”
“That don’t matter anyhow. There’s a hell of a lot more’n money to worry about now,” Lefty said.
Kiowa, remembering the men waiting in the outer office, said, “You’re dead right there.”
“Yeah. Them folks that’s been buying stock is gonna get riled,” Lefty said. “And you know who they’re gonna blame along with Phineus, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Kiowa said. “You and me.”
“What are we gonna do?”
“Use the white man’s most necessary invention on account o’ his sneaky ways,” Kiowa said.
“What’s that?” Lefty asked.
“The back door!”
Lefty heard some restless rumbling in the outer office. Not wanting to waste time, he eased up to the rear portal and peered outside. “The coast is clear. Let’s go!”
They made it out the building and down the alley. They reached the livery stable and saddled their horses. “Which way are we going?” Lefty asked.
“Which end o’ town is the closest?” Kiowa wanted to know.
“The east end.”
“Then we’re going east,” Kiowa said. “Let’s go.”
When they rode out, they saw the mob of men coming toward them. Somebody shouted. “There’s the thieving sonofabitches!”
“Ride, Kiowa, ride!”
“Watch my dust!”
~*~
Mr. Edmond Terwilliger, president of the Northwest and Canadian Railroad stepped out of the company office in the company of his chief detective Jim Bigelow.
“Hell of a nice day, isn’t it, Jim?”
The End of a
Piccadilly Publishing Western
By
Patrick E. Andrews
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