Midnight Secrets

by Janelle Taylor

  “That’s my surprise for tonight: I do, if you’d like to go to work for me. The woman who did my records and letters at the assay office eloped with a miner sweetheart who struck it rich this week. Can you begin Monday? That is, if you think I’ll make a good boss.”

  Ginny couldn’t believe her good fortune—a way to get inside his files and view his records to check out her father’s accusations. With luck, there was enlightening and damaging evidence in his office that she could use against him. “That sounds wonderful, Frank. Thank you, and I accept.”

  He chuckled. “You didn’t even ask about salary and hours,” he teased.

  “I’m certain you’ll be fair with me. Won’t you?” she asked, and smiled.

  “Of course I will. I’ll make it such a good offer and such excellent working conditions that you won’t ever search for a replacement position.”

  Ginny was relieved their meal arrived; it compelled him to release her hand that he had grasped and was stroking with his thumb as he stared into her eyes. She was grateful he wasn’t rushing her, and she did all she could think of to make certain he continued his sluggish pace. Yet Frank Kinnon was clearly a virile man who went after what he desired; she wasn’t sure how long she could stall him if he pressed for a commitment. For the present, behaving as a lady and acting skittish seemed to work in her favor.

  “This is delicious,” she murmured of the tender roast beef.

  “It should be; I raised it on my ranch. You’ll have to come out and visit one day. It’s beautiful. I promise you’ll love it.”

  “Perhaps, one day,” she replied in a cordial tone. “It’s too soon to come calling on a handsome bachelor. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Of course, Anna, but one day soon will come quickly.”

  “Perhaps,” she said again, then flashed him a demure smile. For once, she was glad she was prone to blushing, as it aided her pretense, though wine and her apprehensions were really the cause, not feelings for the evil man. She realized she didn’t feel guilty over duping him, as he deserved it.

  “I would never do or say anything to upset you or to embarrass you, but I see I have done so.”

  “I’m certain you wouldn’t, Frank. You’re a fine gentleman. I’m happy we became acquainted so quickly as Colorado is a wild and dangerous place. You make me feel safe here. I treasure our friendship.”

  “She’s a state of boom towns and ghost towns, a place where fortunes can be made and lost in the same day. I wouldn’t allow anyone or anything to harm you, Anna. Whatever you need or want, just ask me.”

  “You’re much too generous and kind, but thank you.”

  “When the right time comes, I want to be very generous with you.”

  As if she misunderstood him, she responded, “You said you would pay me a fair salary, so I believe you.”

  “That isn’t what I meant.”

  “I know.” Her point made, she changed the subject. “Have many big strikes been made near here? There’s so much I don’t know about mining. Which is better to find, gold or silver? You will let me watch you assay one time and teach’me all I need to know to be a good employee?”

  “I’m a rich and powerful man who’s accustomed to getting what he wants, so forgive me for racing after the most beautiful and desirable woman in town. I don’t mean to appear pushy.”

  Ginny lowered her lashes and smiled as he hadn’t answered her questions. “Those are advantages, Frank, not flaws or weaknesses, so don’t apologize for having them. I’m sure you realize you make me a little nervous. We’ve only known each other for less than a week. You must be patient with me.”

  “You don’t know how refreshing it is to meet a lady like you out here. But I promise to behave myself and to control my eagerness to win you. Now, to answer your questions. We’ve had many big strikes in Colorado since ‘58 but most of them have been in other towns and up in the high country. Most of those have been in gold, but there’s plenty of silver in there somewhere and lucky the man who strikes it. I’ve assayed ore that would make a prospector’s eyes bulge. I’ll teach you all you want to know. If you find assaying enjoyable, you can become my assistant. The process is simple but requires training and a good eye, especially with silver. Sometimes its tricky to detect by sight alone. I have several books on it you might find interesting. I’ll loan them to you. After you read them, ask me any questions you want. Within a week, you’ll probably catch gold or silver fever.”

  Ginny didn’t want to appear suspiciously intrigued. “I can’t see myself grubbing in the dirt or living as I’ve heard those miners and prospectors do.”

  Frank chuckled and nodded his head. “You’re right. Dreams of riches craze them, Anna. It’s much easier and cleaner to live off of their fantasies here in comfort and safety. In those camps, men exist, they don’t live or enjoy life. They’re plagued by poverty, illnesses, accidents, fights and bad tempers, loneliness, attacks by thieves or claim-jumpers, depression, disappointment. Hazardous weather condition, poor food or starvation, and freezing hands from mountain streams wear them down. Gold fever takes its toll on them.”

  As their desserts arrived, she knew the time remaining for questions was getting short. “How do prospecting and mining work? Can they dig anywhere?”

  “Yes and no. A man can stake a claim and work it or he can skip from site to site, and if he finds gold or silver can stake a claim there on the spot. Men work alone or in groups. Often they form companies, sometimes doing their own work and sometimes hiring men to do it for them. If a strike is big, a company is best for protection and results. Sharing a lot of wealth is better than eking out a little alone. That’s especially true of silver; it’s hard and expensive to mine.”

  Ginny noticed how many times he mentioned silver and wondered if that was a clue. She smiled innocently and asked, “Why silver?” She listened as Frank told her the same things her father had in his letter. His mood and expression exposed his greed for the shiny metals. “That’s fascinating, Frank. Have you ever considered investing in a claim or mine?”

  “I have invested in two and both should be paying off soon. Don’t tell anybody, but I have an advantage being an assayer. Sometimes men bring in samples, that they have no idea the worth of. I get paid a nice fee for steering them to investors and for advising ignorant prospectors they need them. It’s true, so nobody is hurt and I make an added profit.”

  She saw him sipping too often from his wine glass and hoped its potent effect would loosen his evil tongue. With cunning and desperation, she evoked, “It’s good to put people who need each other in touch. Have you ever found something in an assay that a prospector or miner missed? I’m sure they would pay plenty for such information.”

  “Rarely.”

  Ginny caught a hint in his voice that said he wasn’t being honest. “Perhaps one day you will find something special and become famous for being behind the biggest strike in this state.”

  “If that happens, I hope I’m involved as an investor.”

  “Or an owner. If a man doesn’t realize what he has and offers to sell it to you, why shouldn’t you purchase it? Fortunes are made on others’ ignorance and greed… My goodness, that must sound terrible. I didn’t mean to cheat someone. I just meant, if…Oh, my, how to explain myself?”

  Frank chuckled. “No need, Anna. I understand.”

  Ginny was positive he didn’t and prayed he misunderstood and misjudged her. “I’m glad because sometimes simple words can sound so cold and cruel and deceitful. Someone mentioned salting to me. What does that mean?”

  “It’s when a claim or mine is worthless or used up and the man tosses out nuggets to fool a buyer. That can get the seller killed or lynched fast.”

  Wide-eyed, she murmured, “I imagine so, if he isn’t long gone by the time a mistake is discovered. Wouldn’t a buyer bring samples to someone like you to be tested before he makes his purchase?”

  “Usually not. Greed, Anna, the dream of striking it big, makes him
foolish. He thinks he’s making a good deal when he’s being cheated.”

  “Don’t such men deserve each other?” she asked.

  “I guess so. You haven’t told me why you came here.”

  Ginny was prepared for that question and fabricated, “I hate to tell you, Frank, but you deserve the truth.” As if reluctant, she related the tale she had told Hattie and others. “Most of that is true, but there’s more. I trust you, so I’ll be honest with you. Besides, someone could arrive any day to expose me and get me into trouble.” She noticed how that caught his interest. “My parents are dead and I did lose everything from the war. But my father, Charles Avery, was connected with the Ku Klux Klan.” In case he checked on her, as a man in his position had the money and means to do so, her false tale should be foolproof. She related what had happened on the wagontrain, except for Stone’s part in it. “I had to get away from the South before I was accused and arrested for being involved with his doings. I wasn’t, Frank, but I doubt I could convince the authorities. I thought this was far enough away to be safe, to make a fresh start. Am I awful for not telling you sooner? You must be terribly disappointed with me.”

  “Of course not. It must have been awful for you. I’m glad you came here. Don’t worry about anyone or anything harming you here.”

  Ginny knew she had intrigued and ensnared him. “Thank you, Frank. Now it’s late so I should be getting home.”

  “You’ll be at work Monday morning at eight?”

  “Yes, I promise. You won’t be sorry for hiring me.”

  “I’m certain I won’t.”

  At the boardinghouse, Ginny bid him good night and allowed him to kiss her cheek. She walked to her rooms dreading what tomorrow’s activity and Monday’s challenge would bring. She realized it might have been too early to begin her ruse, but that couldn’t be helped now. Stone, my love, where are you? I need you.

  CHAPTER 17

  Frank let Ginny into the bank and locked the door behind her after speaking to several customers who were waiting outside to do business with him. He smiled and asked if she was ready to begin the new job.

  “Nervous, but ready,” she responded, then forced a return smile. This was her perfect opportunity to search for clues and to win his confidence, so she told herself to be alert. She mustn’t become distracted or reckless for an instant, something “Steve Carr” often had scolded her for doing during her training. She quickly dismissed her love from mind and observed her surroundings.

  Four clerks stood behind a long U-shaped counter getting ready to open for business in twenty minutes. Frank whispered for her to notice that the workers had either no pockets or stitched-down ones in their trousers to prevent hiding places if they became tempted to steal a nugget or coin. The counter and floors were highly polished wood, but, as Frank whispered to her again, there were no chairs or sitting areas supplied to entice customers to remain inside the large room longer than necessary. He said she would grasp why when the bank became crowded and noisy soon.

  In every corner there was a guard armed with a rifle at the ready to discourage or to defeat robberies. Most propped their buttocks on stools to keep from becoming overly fatigued or cramped during a long day of standing. She saw all the guards and clerks eye her for a moment. No doubt, she concluded, they also knew their boss had a “claim” on her.

  Ginny looked at a large sign on one wall: The Frank Kinnon Bank. A clock was mounted on the opposite one. In the elbow of the waist-high counter was a shed-type case with scales for weighing gold dust, flakes, and nuggets, Frank said.

  “It’s glassed on the customer’s side to keep wind from scattering gold dust on the scales when the door is opened and closed.« It also lets customers witness the handling of their property to prevent any problems. Want a peek inside the safe before it’s locked?”

  “Yes. I’ve never been inside one before.”

  Frank guided her around the counter and to the large metal “closet.” While blocking everyone’s view, his deft fingers twirled the combination dial on the heavy door. With brute strength, he pushed the door aside and motioned her into the small, dark area that held numerous shelves from floor to ceiling. Using a lamp, Frank adjusted it to give her a good view of the contents: bills, coins, pouches of gold in three forms, ingots of silver and gold, and samples of ore on trays.

  “What do those mean?” she asked, pointing to names on some bags.

  “Men either sell me their gold and silver or they store it here for a fee. Whenever they need some, they have the clerks weigh out the amount they want. They sign a paper inside the pouch telling when and how much they withdrew and how much is left. Storing it here keeps them from carrying around large amounts and risking being robbed. It also keeps some men from being tempted or tricked into spending it all in one night after they get drunk and lose their wits at the gambling tables.”

  Ginny tried to read the names in a hurry to see if her father’s or Clay’s was among them and stalled for more time by saying, “That sounds very intelligent to me. What happens to a man’s gold if he dies?”

  “If I hear about a misfortune, I date his pouch and hold it for one year for family or partners to claim. If no one does, it becomes mine. Those eight on that shelf are patiently waiting to jump into my pocket.”

  Ginny’s heart fluttered as her gaze touched on her father’s name on a fat pouch. She wished she could peek inside to see what the date was but dared not show her interest to the man nearby. She was worried about finding it on that gloomy shelf, but Mathew Marston had been reported dead. She didn’t want to imagine that might be true or to think about Frank taking something that belonged to her if Matt was gone. “There’s a fortune here. Have you ever been robbed?”

  “No. I keep four guards on duty day and night. It’s expensive, but it increases business because men know their earnings are safe with me.”

  “What if something happened to you? How would they open the safe?” How, she mused, could she get her hands on her father’s property?

  “I’m the only one here who knows the combination. If I died, the governor has the combination in his safe. It’s about time to open, so let’s get in the back where we work.” As he locked the enormous safe, Frank told her, “The clerks keep the banking records, but I check them every night for errors. You won’t have any tasks out here.”

  On the back wall was a door into another section, over which a sign read: Frank Kinnon, Assay Office. He led her into a hallway and closed the door. “Nobody comes back here unless invited or by appointment.” He motioned to three doors as he explained, “That’s my assay room, my office, and where you’ll work. I make notes which you’ll write up in a report form twice: one copy for me and one for the customer. They’re kept in a file in my office and it’s always locked when I’m out. You’ll also copy letters for me because my script, as you’ll soon discover, is terrible. You’ll keep the office books: charges, payments, supplies, and so forth.”

  Ginny followed him into the “laboratory,” a clean but cluttered room. She laughed, “I almost feel as if I’m in jail; every window and door has bars.”

  Frank chuckled. “A man can’t be too careful when he’s responsible for so much wealth. It would shock you to know how much money and precious metals are in that safe. If anything happened to them, the men around here would lynch me in a second. I have to protect my business and reputation.”

  “It appears you’re doing a good job with both.”

  “Thank you, Anna. Please look around and ask all the questions you wish.”

  Ginny glanced at cabinets that held supplies used in his trade. There were several long work tables. One had lines of metal weights and a scale. Another held a small crusher, a vise and hammer for sizing samples, many wooden trays to hold them, flux and burners and crucibles for tests, tongs for lifting hot objects, thick jars of nitric acid, and paper with ink and pen for recording results. “How does this process work?” she asked after he explained the use of each item,
though many were obvious or were marked.

  As he removed his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and put on an apron to protect his clothes, he said, “Pull up that stool and I’ll give you a lesson while I do this sample. Kelly’s coming by later today for his answer.”

  Ginny realized he was absorbed by his task or he would have fetched the stool for her. She sat close to the table as Frank Kinnon worked and talked to observe this man her father mistrusted and feared.

  “I use chemicals and heating techniques to determine how much precious metal or mineral is in a sample. Most are scattered throughout. Flux helps melt it into what’s called a button. It separates into slag, which is tossed out, and a button of mostly lead and hopefully something valuable. The button is melted to get out the impurities and to leave a dore bead, usually gold or silver, or a combination of both. I weigh the bead and record the figure. Next comes nitric acid bath to remove any silver. This is one of the trickiest and most dangerous steps; acid can burn worse than any flame. I weigh the gold I recover and subtract that amount from the first figure to determine how much, if any, silver is there. Take a look: gold with no silver tracings. Nuggets men find in streams don’t need assaying; their value is obvious and their payment is easy to determine by weight. Mining gold is different; if it’s embedded in rock, it has to be freed by pick and smelting.”

  “Fascinating,” she murmured.

  “No tests are necessary if a prospector brings in fool’s gold. A trained eye can spot pyrite instantly, but it’s tricked many an innocent man. It’s sometimes used to dupe ignorant buyers into thinking they’re getting a valuable claim.”