West of Washoe by Tim Champlin

Author:Tim Champlin [Tim Champlin ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781428508835
Publisher: Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

Chapter Eleven

Just before sundown, Ross returned to The Territorial Enterprise office. Workmen were putting the finishing touches on the restored window and frame. The smoke-blackened brick on the front of the building had been scrubbed clean, the wooden frame replaced, and the tall, narrow pane of glass installed. All that remained was for the frame to be painted, and the place would look as if it had never been damaged.

Ross found Scrivener at his desk and in a better state of mind than when he’d last seen him.

“Where’ve you been the last couple of days?” the editor greeted him.

“Gathering news for your paper,” Ross replied, pulling up a chair. He proceeded to relate his experience in the Blue Hole Mine and what he’d discovered from the ore samples brought out.

“Confirms our editorials were right all along,” Scrivener said. “If that superintendent was ordered to maroon you in the mine to die, then probably the owner found out who you really are. Not too surprising when you figure we ran a notice about your arrival and your purpose here. I’m sure a number of people in town have put your name and face together by now.”

Ross dug out the ore samples and Scrivener turned up the wick of his desk lamp, adjusted the spectacles on his sharp nose, and examined the rock carefully while Ross pointed out what to look for.

“Yes, I’ve seen examples of salted ore before,” Scrivener said, as if he didn’t really need any help. “These would fool most folks, though,” he added, swiveling his chair around to work the combination of the heavy floor safe behind him. “If you have no objections, I’ll stash these here for safekeeping, just in case. We have your word these came from the Blue Hole, but no hard proof. Though newspapers are not a court of law, we are the court of public opinion. It really doesn’t matter if what we know to be true cannot be proven to a certainty.” He locked the door, spun the combination, and swiveled back around to his desk. “I’ll write up a piece for the next edition.” He looked sharply at Ross, and added: “If that’s what you want. If you’d rather stay out of it, I’ll just do an editorial, stating I have proof of the owner’s duplicity and fraud. I won’t have to mention what it is or how I got it.”

“No, go ahead and tell how I got it and that I’m certain an attempt was made on my life…an attempt supposed to look like an accident.”

“You look a little dragged out,” Scrivener said, peering over the tops of his glasses. “Better get some rest. When this hits the paper, Fossett will be on the warpath again. No telling what he’ll try this time.”

Ross thought it prudent not to mention Clemens had confessed to starting this uproar with a couple of editorials that had hit close to the truth. Scrivener probably already knew Clemens was responsible. And if he didn’t, Ross wouldn’t be the one to enlighten him.

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