Chapter One
When Matt Jensen rode into Swan, Wyoming, few who knew him would have recognized him. He had a heavy beard, his hair was uncommonly long, and he looked every bit the part of a man who had not been under a roof for two months. Eight weeks earlier, he had said good-bye to Smoke Jensen back at Fort Collins, Colorado, arranging to meet him here in Swan on this date. Not since then had Matt seen civilization, having spent the entire two months in the mountains prospecting for gold.
The success of Matt’s two months of isolation was now manifested by a canvas bag he had hanging from the saddle horn. The bag was full of color-showing ore. Prospecting wasn’t new to Matt; he had learned the trade under the tutelage of his mentor, Smoke Jensen, so he knew the color in the ore was genuine. But exactly how successful he had been would depend upon the assayer’s report.
Swan was a flyblown little settlement, not served by any railroad, though there was stagecoach service to Rawlings, where one could connect with the Union Pacific. The town had a single street that was lined on both sides by unpainted, ripsawed, false-fronted buildings. It could have been any of several hundred towns in a dozen Western states. As Matt rode down the street, a couple of scantily dressed soiled doves stood on a balcony and called down to him.
“Hey, cowboy, you’re new to town, ain’t you?” one of them shouted.
“You gotta be new ’cause I don’t know you,” the other one added. “And I reckon I
Matt smiled, nodded, and touched the brim of his hat by way of returning their greeting.
“Come on up and keep us company. We’ll give you a good welcome,” the first one shouted down to him.
“Ladies, until I get a bath, I’m not even fit company for my horse,” Matt called up to the two women as he rode underneath the overhanging balcony where the two women were standing.
The second soiled dove pinched her nose and, exaggerating, made a waving motion with her hand. “Oh, honey, you’ve got that right,” she teased.
Laughing, Matt rode on down the street until he reached a small building at the far end. A sign in front of the building read J.C. MONTGOMERY, ASSAYER.
Matt swung down from his saddle and tied his horse off at the hitching rail. Hefting the canvas bag over one shoulder, he stepped inside, where he was greeted by a small, thin man.
“Can I help you?” the little man asked.
“Are you the assayer?”
“I am.”
Matt laid the canvas bag on the counter, then took out a handful of rocks and lay them alongside the bag.
“I need you to take a look at this,” Matt said.
Montgomery chuckled. “You want me to tell you if it is gold or pyrite, right?”
“No, mister,” Matt said. “I know it is gold. All I want you to do is tell me how much money all this is worth.”
The assayer picked up a couple of rocks and looked at them casually, before putting them back down. Then, taking a second look at one of them, he picked it up again, and this time he examined it through a magnifying glass.
“What do you think?” Matt asked.
“You’re right,” Montgomery said. “It is gold.”
“You have any idea as to the value?”
“Do all the rocks have this much color?”
“I wouldn’t have bothered carrying them in if they didn’t,” Matt replied.
“Well, then, I would say you have two or three hundred dollars here. In fact, I’ll give you three hundred dollars for the entire bag right now.”
Matt put the rocks back in the bag. “Would you now?”
“In cash,” Montgomery said.
“You always cheat your customers like that?” Matt asked.
“What are you talking about?”
“What I have here is worth two thousand dollars if it is worth a cent,” he said. “Thank you, Mr. Montgomery, but I believe I’ll take my business somewhere else.”
“I’m the only assayer in town.”
“Perhaps. But Swan isn’t the only town,” Matt said as he left the office.
Just up the street from the assayer’s office, Matt saw a sign that read HAIRCUTS, SHAVES, BATHS.
“Tell you what, Spirit, you’ve had to put up with my stink long enough,” Matt said, speaking to his horse. “I think I’ll go get myself cleaned up before I go looking for Smoke.”
Dismounting in front of the building, Matt lifted his bag of ore from the horse, then went inside. Fifteen minutes later, he was sitting in a tub of warm water, scrubbing himself with a big piece of lye soap.
