Sidewinders by William W. Johnstone

that. But a man could die a mite happier with a belly full of this bear sign.”
    â€œMaybe we’d better save some for the trip back tomorrow,” Bo suggested.
    â€œThat’s a good idea,” Chloride agreed.
    The Golden Queen was about eight miles up Deadwood Gulch, he explained as they followed the trail alongside the creek. The mine wasn’t actually located in the gulch, but rather up a side canyon that branched off to the southwest. A smaller stream flowed through the canyon and merged with Deadwood Creek.
    â€œWhere’s the Argosy?” Bo asked.
    â€œAbout a mile on up the gulch from where that canyon veers off,” Chloride answered.
    â€œWhat’s Nicholson going to do for drivers and guards now? Has he been having the same sort of trouble getting men to work for him that Miss Sutton has?”
    Chloride shook his head. “Not exactly. The Argosy can afford to pay more, so there are more fellas willin’ to run the risk. Of course, it don’t take very big wages to add up to more than the gal can pay right now, since she ain’t payin’ nothin’.”
    â€œShe’s promised to make up all those back wages,” Scratch pointed out.
    â€œPromisin’ is easier than doin’,” Chloride said.
    Bo couldn’t argue with that. The men who were still working for Martha Sutton were betting that eventually she would be able to pay them what she owed them. But like all bets, this one ran the risk of not paying off.
    â€œAnd you got to remember,” Chloride went on, “until a couple o’ days ago, the Argosy shipments hadn’t been hit. Reese Bardwell kept puttin’ more guards on the wagons because of what’s been happenin’ to the other mines, so we all hoped the road agents would leave the Argosy alone. Shame it didn’t work out that way.”
    â€œYou’d probably still have a job if it had,” Bo said.
    â€œMaybe. To tell you the truth, though, Bardwell never much liked me, and Nicholson gen’rally does whatever that big galoot wants. They’d have found some excuse to get rid of me sooner or later.”
    Over the past four years, the hooves of countless horses and mules and the wheels of hundreds of wagons had worn a decent trail alongside the creek. The three riders had no trouble following it. They didn’t push their mounts but instead ambled along, taking their time. When they passed the site of the ambush from the day before, Bo took a good look around, but he didn’t see anything he hadn’t already seen in the wake of the fight. There was nothing here to give them a lead to the Devils.
    They rode on, and late in the morning they came to the mouth of the side canyon where the Golden Queen was located. As they reined in to rest the horses and Chloride’s mule for a few minutes, Bo studied the steep, narrow, and rocky ridge that separated the side canyon from Deadwood Gulch itself.
    â€œSomebody comin’,” Scratch said, distracting Bo from his thoughts.
    Bo looked up Deadwood Gulch and saw several riders approaching. The man in the lead was familiar, and as the group drew closer, Bo recognized him as Reese Bardwell, the Argosy’s chief engineer and superintendent. Bardwell didn’t look very comfortable on horseback. It took a pretty big horse to carry him, too, in this case a gray that looked more like a draft animal than a saddle mount.
    â€œWho are the men with Bardwell?” Bo asked Chloride quietly.
    The old-timer grimaced and shook his head. “They must be new guards. I don’t recognize ’em. They don’t look like hard-rock men.”
    Scratch grunted and said, “More like hard cases .” It was true. The three men with Bardwell wore range clothes and Stetsons, and each had a handgun belted on, as well as a Winchester in a saddle boot. Their eyes had the narrow look of constant vigilance that became second nature to men who lived by