Back In the SaddleMature

Montana wanted one bedroom as well as a small office downstairs, we also planned on a small kitchen area behind the bar with a sort of "L" shaped saloon floor. All this would have to wait as we needed money for all this, and work called.

The camp was southeast of Humbolt Mountain, according to O'Rourke,

"See a man by the name of Dobbins down there," explained O'Rourke, "He'll set you up, bring the gold here, that's all there is to it."

"Tell me sir," I asked, "How many people know about these shipments?" Without hesitation O'Rourke shrugged,

"I'm afraid everyone, I'm sorry, but that's the way it is"

"Well sir," I replied, "We left a rather high body count on our last job, we'll take on this one but there's liable to be consequences, we don't want to be held accountable for all the dead we're sure to leave."

"Don't ya worry boyo, folks 'round these parts know it ain't wise to go robbin gold shipments, the important thing is to get the shipment through."

"As you wish," I replied, "I guess we're off then."

The ride down south was uneventful, I took a lot of photographs, as Jake and I tried to picture future buildings and attractions along the way. At Harney Peak we found the trail that took us to the mining camp. Just like Deadwood we could smell the place long before we saw it. Shacks and tents perched on each hillside with a muddy stream running below. There was no rhyme or reason  for anything here, the old photographs taken of mining camps could never portray the conditions we saw here. After a couple inquiries we found the cabin of Arthur Dobbins, Mr. Dobbins appeared to be quite drunk, but functioning.

"What you boys want?" He growled, slamming an empty bottle down on the table.

Handing him the letter O'Rourke gave us I said,

"We're here to transport your gold up to Mr. O'Rourke's in Lead."

"Well the damn gold ain't here yet," growled Dobbins, sit down, and have a drink."   

The End

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