The Bride of Willow Creek(99)
“Could be.” Marcus turned to look out over the valley, his gaze following the train. “But I need more than your gut to justify buying blind. If my group buys the L&D, Sam, we’re buying a pig in a poke. Right now nobody knows what’s down there. Like I said, the vein could end in another few feet.”
“Or you could hit a rich vug. Or the vein could have more branches than a willow.”
“If you really believe that, then it’s a mistake to sell.” Marcus arched an eyebrow in Sam’s direction. “You know that. You should beg, borrow, or steal the money to extend the drifts you’ve started and sink a half dozen more. Proving the promise is worth several hundred thousand dollars. You’ll have something to sell.”
“Like you said. I know that.”
“Sam, we’ve been friends for several years. Keep your mine and develop it. I’ll loan you whatever you need. Hell, I’ll give you whatever you need. I’d rather do that than see you throw away a possible fortune.”
He held the smoke on his tongue then slowly exhaled. Some would say there was a thin line between honor and stupidity, and maybe they were right. But he was in no position to take on debt, and his pride wouldn’t accept the charity of a gift. He needed to do right by his daughter and by the spirit of the agreement he’d entered into. That was the only way he could justify Laura’s trust, the only way he could believe he deserved his daughters.
“I truly believe the L&D will be a rich producer,” he said at length. “But I suppose I could be wrong. I could spend thirty thousand dollars of borrowed money and come up dry. But it’s a moot point, Marcus. I don’t have the time to develop the L&D even if I had the money and an ironclad guarantee of hitting the jackpot.” He pulled back his shoulders and focused on the ash growing on his cigar. “So. What’s your best offer?”
“Damn it, Sam.” They smoked in silence for a good five minutes, listening to the distant booms of dynamite and the train’s whistle. “The best I can justify for a potential dry hole is five thousand dollars.”
Disappointment bit the back of Sam’s throat. Five thousand was a far cry from Cannady Johnson’s windfall. But Can’s mine had been developed enough for a buyer to know what he was buying.
“What kind of royalty?”
Marcus shrugged. “Two percent.”
“Make it six.”
“The syndicate will never agree to six percent.”
“Why not? Six percent of nothing isn’t going to hurt your group. And that’s what you think you’re buying. Nothing. I know you, Marcus. If you believed I had something here, you’d pay for it. Five thousand tells me you believe you’re buying a hole in the ground and not much else.”
In Marcus’s mind, the five thousand was the same as a gift, and that irked him. Marcus Applebee wasn’t seeing what Sam saw in the L&D. Then again, why the hell would he?
After a minute Marcus thrust out his hand to shake on the deal. “Five thousand up front and six percent royalty.” He grinned. “If you’re right and the mine comes in, your six percent is going to be the sweetest deal this district has seen. You’ll be wealthy.”
Sam gripped his hand. “I’ll send Marsh Collins to your office to draw up the papers. How soon can I get the money?”
“It’s a straightforward deal. Unless the lawyers tangle it up, I’d say you should have your money in a few days. Let’s go to town and I’ll buy you a drink.” They walked toward the horses. “Either you just signed off a fortune for a pittance, or you palmed off a dry hole for a tidy piece of change.”
Either way, now he had the money to keep his promises.
For the first time in a long while Sam was home to eat supper with his family, but it wasn’t a particularly pleasant experience. Angie didn’t say two words, and his daughters squirmed and pushed at their supper without eating much. Finally Lucy wiped a napkin across her mouth and asked if they could go.
When Angie didn’t correct her as Sam expected, he said, “You know you’re supposed to say, May I be excused from the table.”
Lucy rolled her eyes, impatient to run out the door. “May we be excused from the table, please?”
“That’s better. Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“Mrs. Molly is waiting for us,” Daisy said, sliding out of her chair.
“I want you home before dark.”
Lucy and Daisy exchanged a conspiratorial glance. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
With the girls out the door and Angie not looking at him or speaking, the silence in the kitchen began to feel oppressive. Sam put down his napkin. “I guess you’re mad at me.”