Now this was the kind of life Billy Stokes had always imagined for himself.
All during those hardscrabble years working with Daddy at this ranch or that … and later, when Daddy was dead and Billy was on his own ...
All he needed was a break.
That break came when he caught on with the Morton Company and met Petey Smith.
Petey was a rough character, and none too smart, but he had a head for the no-good. Didn’t take long for the two of them to start talking, and scheming.
The way Billy and Petey figured it, a well-placed stick of dynamite would close off the mine and leave them with a month’s worth of gold they could cart away at their leisure.
It was a shame all the other miners had to die, but it was a price the two men were willing to pay.
‘Course, Petey hadn’t counted on Billy double-crossing him -- a second well-laid charge made the booty Billy’s alone.
Not that it hadn’t bothered Billy’s conscience.
Indeed, Petey always insisted on splashing his face with toilet water -- in case he found true love in the mines, Billy supposed -- and the stench had haunted Billy’s dreams for months.
Billy shook his head loose of those memories now and took in the grand ballroom of the Queen Francesca, the first luxury ship to make the passage from Butler Bay up to Thorntown on the regular.
The pretty lady on his arm leaned in, her sweet smell fluttering his heart.
Billy smiled -- such were the spoils of wealth and the distance of 20 years.
Then, a tug on his arm.
A long-forgotten odor mixing with his lady’s.
An offer from a familiar, if aging, face.
“Care for a drink, sir?” Petey Smith, tray in hand, sneered at Billy.
No comments:
Post a Comment