“Never met him before in my life, but I’ve corresponded with him a few times. He stopped by to pay his respects, since he’d been down to Silver City and was passing through on his way back to Rattlesnake Ridge. Why all the questions, young man?”
The assayer was in his sixties, Luke thought, with a shock of gray hair and beetling brows. Would anyone be all that surprised if a man of that age died in his sleep?
“Did you know Mr. Wilkins, the assayer in Reno, died ten days ago?” Jack asked, seemingly picking up on Luke’s line of thought. “Heart gave out in his sleep?”
“Yes, indeed! Terribly sad. I knew Stanley Wilkins; he was my apprentice before he went to Reno to open his own shop. Dreadful, quite dreadful!” Murray shook his head sadly.
“Well.” Luke glanced at Jack before lowering himself into the chair opposite the desk, wondering how much he dared imply, “We’ve heard the sheriff in Reno might be feeling a mite suspicious about Wilkins’s death. Thinking maybe it could be a murder. It’s possible Mr. Wilkins received a gift from Mr. Blake too, before he died.”
The old assayer was no fool. He made the association at once, glancing at the bottle and then back at Luke, his mouth agape. “You mean… you can’t possibly be implying…”
“I’m only suggesting you might like to have the local doctor take a look at that whiskey before you drink any of it. Nothing more than that. Check it’s safe, you know.” Luke tapped the side of his nose. “We’re heading back to Rattlesnake Ridge after we leave here, and we’ll be talking to Sheriff McCullough about what we’ve learned. Appreciate it if you could let us know whether the doctor finds anything.”
It was a web of implications with a kernel of truth at the heart—Luke would most definitely be going to see Jim McCullough. He had no proof, not yet, but he’d very much like to hear what the doctor had to say about that whiskey. It seemed far too much of a coincidence that one assayer died suspiciously young, maybe from poisoning, while another got a bottle of very expensive whiskey from an acquaintance who in theory had good reason to want him dead. It wasn’t much but it seemed to fit, even if they did only have the word of a gossiping old stableman to base their suspicions on.
“Give me a few minutes.” Mr. Murray took the bottle of whiskey with him when he left the office, and true to his word returned—without the whiskey—less than five minutes later according to clock on the wall. “I’ve sent my grandson to find Doctor Galbraith. How long will you be in town?”
“We could stay the night,” Luke said, “but we need to get back first thing tomorrow.”
“Fair enough; can I offer you the hospitality of my home? If your suspicions are correct, it’s the least I can do for you.”
They quickly declined, saying they’d already arranged for a hotel, and then Jack hefted his saddlebags onto the desk. “Actually, sir, we didn’t just come to see you about that. We wanted to see if you’d assay some samples for us, too.”
Murray smiled, putting on a pair of spectacles as Jack opened one saddlebag and placed a bundle of tightly-wrapped oilskin in front of him. “After the fright you’ve just given me, it’s a relief to have something normal to do! Well, well, what have we here?” His tone changed as he picked up an almost-black rock with a glassy shimmer on its multitude of fractured surfaces. “Do you know what this is?”
“I believe it’s galena.” Luke crossed his fingers hopefully against his leg under the table. “Silver-bearing galena, to be precise.”
“Hm.” Murray took off his spectacles, set the rock down on his desk, and proceeded to take a paper bag from a drawer. “I want to assay this, but if I’m right—and I’ve seen a lot of rocks in my time—this might be even better than that. Give me your names and come back at four o’clock. In the meantime, Dr. Galbraith’s house is just three doors down the street. You might like to go see if he has any opinions about my present.”
Chapter 12
Luke and Jack wasted no time in hurrying along to the doctor’s office. They needed to have their suspicions confirmed, and Virginia City’s doctor was the only person who could do it.
The man himself turned out to be close in age to Mr. Murray with a wise, kindly face. The whiskey bottle was sitting on a desk in his office. “You’re the men who brought this to Thom Murray?”
“No, we told him he shouldn’t drink it until you’d tested it,” Luke corrected.
“Can I ask why you suspect the spirits are tainted? I’ve detected no unusual scent, but whiskey smells strong enough to mask most scents anyway. I sent a couple lads to catch some rats; we’ll see what’s what then. And if you’re wrong, well, we’ll have drunken rats.”
Luke choked down a laugh at the doctor’s cynicism before explaining about the death of the young assayer in Reno from apparent heart failure in his sleep, and the sheriff in Reno being suspicious enough to look into it.
Dr. Galbraith blew out his cheeks, shaking his head. “And you’re working for Sheriff McCullough out of Rattlesnake Ridge, are you?”
“Not exactly,” Jack confessed. “We’re just cautious men by nature. If the assayer in Reno died from poison, I think anyone might be suspicious of a bottle of whiskey this expensive being delivered, don’t you?”
“Beware of Greeks bearing gifts,” Luke put in.
“Indeed, but Thom Murray ain’t dead.” The doctor paused for a moment, then added, “Yet. Possibly thanks to you fellas.” A scratch at the door had the doctor rising to his feet. “That’ll be the lads. You two can help with the rats. I don’t need bitten fingers to add to my morning’s annoyances.”
“I hate rats,” Jack muttered as he and Luke followed the doctor.
“Ain’t exactly fond of them myself, but needs must when the devil drives!” Luke winced as the doctor led them into a back room where a scruffy boy waited with a covered pail, the squeals of outraged rats audible from inside.
“How are we gonna get the whiskey into ‘em?” Jack wondered aloud.
“Well, I don’t suppose they’re habitual drunks,” the doctor said, “so you two can wrangle them while I drip it down their throats.”
“Told you we’d have a good time in Virginia City,” Luke quipped.
Jack shot him a disgusted look before pulling his gloves from his belt. “If one of these beasts bites me, I’m bitin’ you!”
“Shut up your grousing and get to work,” Dr. Galbraith snapped.
The doctor’s irritated attitude dissipated when their suspicions proved true. The three of them stared down at the dead rats lying on his laboratory floor.
“Interesting,” he said, nose twitching slightly. “Very interesting. Difficulty breathing followed by convulsions and death.”
Luke felt sick as he watched the doctor pick up one of the now-still rats. “And it looks like heart failure?”
“Well, I’d have to perform an autopsy to be sure, but it might in humans.” Dr. Galbraith shook his head. “Did you share your suspicions with the authorities in Reno?”
“We didn’t suspect we might know anything to tie the two together, then.” Luke glanced at Jack. “I think we’d prefer to wait to talk to our own sheriff back in Rattlesnake Ridge. Let him talk to his fellow lawmen.” Jack nodded vigorously, making Luke feel relieved. They could trust Jim McCullough, he was sure of it.
“Well, I’ll be talking to our sheriff here, that’s for sure. Wasn’t it a Rattlesnake Ridge man Thom said delivered the whiskey?”
“Yes, but… he’s the whole reason we’re here. He works out of an office in the bank owned by Mr. Garrett, who I have personal reasons for distrusting,” Luke explained. “And not only that; we’ve heard whispers around town that it might be best to take our samples elsewhere if we want an honest assay done.”
“You’re making my head hurt, young man!” Dr. Galbraith frowned at him. “I suppose you’ll want to take samples of this with you? I can decant some into small vials and pack them for travel.”
“Yes please, and make sure nobody ever drinks from that bot
tle!” Luke begged.
“Don’t worry about that, son. Waste of good whiskey, indeed.”
“Do you know what poison it is?” Jack asked as the doctor picked up the other dead rats and threw them into a pail near the back door.
“I have suspicions, yes.” Dr. Galbraith relented slightly at their curious stares. “Potassium cyanide causes symptoms very much like these, I understand. I’ll have to consult my books to find out if there’s a specific test for it, and if it’s something I can do here—or perhaps I’ll have to send a sample to Sacramento for testing. Do you want me to send you a telegraph if I find out exactly what it is?”
“No!” Luke and Jack exclaimed simultaneously.
“Send a letter on the daily stage addressed to Sheriff McCullough,” Luke said, then reconsidered. He didn’t trust Grant Watson, Garrett’s nephew, and Watson might open mail which came to the sheriff’s office. Since the sheriff shared a building with the mayor’s office, they couldn’t risk addressing it to Mayor Winthrop, either. His parents’ ranch was too far away. What a mess. “No, wait. Send it—send it to Miss Daisy Jackson at the schoolhouse in Rattlesnake Ridge.”
“You sure that’s a good idea, bringing Miss Daisy into this?” Jack asked in a low voice as they left the doctor and headed toward the saloon, having decided they were in desperate need of a drink.
“I don’t see how we have much choice. Let’s face it, she’s about the only person in town was can be absolutely sure ain’t involved in whatever this is. No, I’m not implying Barb might be!” Luke held his hand up placatingly when Jack gave him a dark scowl. “But Barb lives in a boarding house where she doesn’t always get her mail directly.”
“Fair enough, but what about Winthrop or McCullough? You can’t think either of them are involved, surely?”
“No, but Grant Watson might be, and he could easily have access to both their mail.”
Jack cursed at Luke’s point, his big fists curling up. Luke shared the sentiment; he didn’t like bringing Daisy into it, fearing she might be put at risk even by being a messenger, but they needed someone whose mail was safe from tampering and he was utterly certain they could trust her. She could also make up an excuse to see McCullough or Winthrop easily enough without raising any suspicions.
“The preacher?” Jack suggested, obviously a last-ditch effort.
Luke considered it as they entered the saloon. “Maybe. I don’t know if he opens his own letters or how many he gets. Daisy, she’ll be getting lots of letters and parcels and stuff for the school. What’s one more? Nobody’d even notice.”
“I hate it when you’re right,” Jack grumbled.
“Surprised you’re still my friend, then, since I’m always right.” Dodging Jack’s elbow aimed at his ribs, Luke chuckled and headed for the bar.
They stopped by to see the doctor on the way back to the assayer’s office, and Dr. Galbraith gave them a carefully-wrapped package. “Here’s three vials of the whiskey,” he said, “and each one is probably enough to kill a man. So, be careful with it, won’t you? I’ll keep the rest here in my safe until the lawmen settle out what to do. Spoke to our sheriff and he’s sent a telegram off to Silver City, just in case the assayer there’s received a bottle of whiskey too.”
Luke and Jack glanced at each other guiltily. It hadn’t occurred to them to do that, even though Thom Murray had remarked Blake was passing through on his way back from Silver City. They doctor’s quick thinking could well have saved another man’s life.
The doctor was still talking. “... unless I find a way to confirm it’s potassium cyanide first. Haven’t found anything yet, though. The books I have all say it’s undetectable if you can’t smell it.”
“Unless you feed it to a rat,” Luke said wryly.
“Or any other man or beast. You be careful. One good man’s dead already, and if it weren’t for your quick thinking, Thom Murray wouldn’t have many more hours left either.” The doctor let them go with a sober nod. “Here’s a letter I wrote with my findings, too. Look me up if you need anything else.”
They thanked him and left, Luke tucking the packet and letter into his coat. He didn’t intend to let go of either until he could put them safely into Jim McCullough’s hands.
Mr. Murray was waiting for them at the assayer’s office, a broad smile on his wrinkled face. After thanking them both profusely for saving his life—Dr. Galbraith must have stopped by to share his findings while they were at the saloon—he placed the shimmering gray rock, now only half its former size, on the desk. Luke and Jack waited with bated breath for his findings.
“You were right, young man,” Murray told Luke. “It is galena. Most folks wouldn’t know what they were looking at; they think unless it’s a nugget of pure metal it can’t be worth anything. Who taught you?”
“My father,” Luke said, before it occurred to him Murray and his father must have been born around the same time. “Maybe you knew him? Robert Rockford.”
“You’re Robbie Rockford’s son! Oh my.” Murray shook his head nostalgically. “Got your father’s blood in you, for sure, to find this.”
“He left me notes and a map,” Luke admitted. “It’s taken me years to figure it all out. This summer we found the galena. Please tell me it’s good?”
“Good?” Murray chuckled, obviously enjoying drawing out the suspense as he picked up the lump of ore and juggled it from one hand to the other. “Lad, this is some of the finest galena ore I’ve ever seen. Almost thirty percent silver—and a hair under three percent gold.”
Luke felt his jaw drop, and he didn’t have to see Jack to know his best friend was mirroring his expression. “Gold?” he echoed numbly after a minute of stunned silence.
“Aye. Don’t faint on me, lad; I don’t have any whiskey to offer you!” Murray laughed at his own joke. “Of course, I’m not going to ask where you found it, but please tell me you have the proper claim paperwork lodged?”
“That we do.” Luke shook himself out of his shocked spell. “It’s all ours.”
“Then you’ll be rich men, my friends.” Murray got up to offer them a handshake. “Here’s the assay report—I made two copies, one for each of you. And if you find any more interesting rocks like that one, young man,” he waggled his finger at Luke, “don’t you dare bring them to anyone but me. You’ve got a nose for it.”
“Pa was the one,” Luke disagreed, but he shook Murray’s hand, counted out the fee for the assay, and promised to return if he ever found anything else worth assaying.
Outside on the street, they stared at each other in sheer disbelief. Luke wondered if his grin was as wide as Jack’s, stretching almost ear to ear, although Jack’s was pulled crooked by his scar.
“Gold,” Jack whispered, too quiet for anyone passing by to hear.
“Gold!” Luke whispered back, and then they were dancing about in the street, whooping with glee, unable to believe their good fortune.
“Back to the saloon?” Jack suggested at last. “This calls for the best dinner Virginia City has to offer—although I’m sure you’re looking forward to tomorrow night at Miss Daisy’s more!”
Luke didn’t disagree, but he wasn’t going to turn down a fine steak with all the trimmings, either. He had a spring in his step which was almost a bounce as they headed back to the saloon.
The barkeep was more than happy to pour them some good whiskey, although both of them flinched momentarily when they saw it was the same brand Blake had given Mr. Murray. Luke laughed before picking the glass up and knocking back the deliciously smooth amber liquid. Jack chuckled roughly as he followed suit.
“What a day,” Luke sighed, setting the glass down and shaking his head. “What an incredibly strange day.”
“It sure was.” Jack gestured to the barkeep to refill their glasses. “Thought I was done with this sort of excitement after the war ended.”
Luke grunted agreement, lifting his glass to drink again.
A loud giggle made him glance across the
room, and he saw four young women sitting together at a table, plates of food in front of them. Sedately dressed, they were obviously respectable, but they were also smiling and eyeing him and Jack quite boldly. A couple of weeks ago, he might have smiled back, even gone over to flirt, but since he’d met Daisy, other women didn’t hold even the slightest appeal.
He turned back to Jack, who was watching him curiously, and pointed to a table across the room. “Let’s move over there and order our dinner. If we sit on the outer edge, we might keep anyone from bothering us.”
“I ain’t been interested in other women since I first laid eyes on Barb,” Jack said as they moved to the other table, passing the giggling young women and ignoring them completely. “But you… well, you don’t even know if Daisy feels the same way as you do.”
“Are you admitting you and Barb have an arrangement?” Luke asked, brows rising.
Jack wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I maybe might have said something to her about us maybe finding what might be a strike.”
On his third whiskey, Luke took a moment to sort through all the mights and maybes in that sentence. “We agreed we weren’t going to tell anyone,” he said, but his heart wasn’t in it. Barb would never breathe a word—and Luke himself had already breached the agreement by telling his mother.
“She knows how I feel about her. I’ve never hidden it, and she’s hinted more than once she’d welcome me courting her. I just couldn’t because I didn’t have nothin’ to offer. But if the strike does pan out, well,” Jack shrugged. “I’ll be able to support a wife an’ children.”
“You’ll be able to build her a mansion and afford ten more kids together if there’s a decent amount of galena in that ridge.” Luke grinned as Jack’s expression turned dreamy. “Stop thinking about what you’re gonna name all those kids and let’s order up some supper!”
Chapter 13
Daisy was waving the last children off from the schoolhouse steps when two familiar horses came down Hill Street toward her. Her smile widened as she met Luke’s eyes, her heart beginning to pound in that now-familiar way at the sight of him. She could feel her breath coming faster, a blush coming to her cheeks, and even though she silently chided herself for being a fool over a man, she didn’t turn away.
Coming From California (The Pioneer Brides 0f Rattlesnake Ridge Book 2) Page 10
