attributes.â
âAh
.
â Ethan nodded in understanding. For a nice set of female attributes, a man could overlook a lot.
*Â *Â *
Other than a steep wagon track that ended at the old mine on the hillside, there were two ways into the canyonâone on either side of the creek that had given the town its name. The lower, more gently sloped route on the left was the one the railroad would take. The rougher terrain on the right was where the sluice was being constructed.
Brodie took him right.
Eye-searing sunlight gave way to spotty shade as they climbed up through tall stands of fir and pine and spruce. Noise faded. Other than the occasional scolding from a crossbill or jay, the only sound of their progress was the labored breathing of the horses and the muffled thuds of their hooves on the soft ground.
Ethan relished the solitude and resolved to come back at another time with his fiddle. It had been too long since heâd let music ease his troubles. Might help him sleep better.
The higher they rode, the lower the temperature dropped. Here and there, patches of snow still clung to shaded crevasses. Tiny rivulets of icy water, seeping from under tangles of hawthorn and mountain maple, pooled in the tracks of horses, deer, elk, and sometimes bear. The smell of pine and juniper hung in the still air.
They had ridden a couple of miles when Ethan heard the pounding of hammers echo along the canyon walls. A hundred yards farther, they came to a clearing where a group of men worked on what looked like a log flume, only much smaller. An older man, who seemed to be in charge of the workers, waved and came forward when he saw Brodie.
While the two men conversed, Ethan dismounted and looked around.
He already knew most of the particulars of the project. The design was a common one and fairly straightforward. Approximately five miles up the canyon, and a mile past the mineral spring, a simple sliding valve would divert a portion of Heartbreak Creek into the mouth of the sluice. From there, the water would flow downhill to town, where it would empty into two water towersâone near the old mine that would service the town, and the other beside the tracks, which would provide clean, mineral-free water to passing locomotivesâfor a monthly charge. Any excess water would be channeled back into the creek, thereby keeping the flow moving so it wouldnât freeze in the winter. A good plan.
And a costly undertaking. But once the sluice was completed and the monthly fee from the railroad started rolling in, the investment would quickly pay off. Especially for the Rylanders, who, as majority stockholders in the Heartbreak Creek Development Company, had financed the project. To their credit, they had also dedicated a substantial amount of company stock to the town, as well as a portion of the water fees. That way, once the initial investment was recouped, everyone would have ownership of the water, and any future maintenance costs on the sluice and water towers would be covered by the fees the railroad paid.
A generous arrangement, Ethan thought.
But first, they had to finish the project.
Leaving Renny tied to a sapling beside Brodieâs big sorrel, Ethan wandered along the sluiceâan open trough with two twenty-inch-wide boards nailed in the shape of a
V
, supported by regularly spaced wooden ribs with crosspieces over the top to keep the sides from spreading. It wouldnât be watertight, but once the boards swelled with moisture, it would seal well enough. Besides, with a constant water supply, leakage wasnât an issue.
He was glad to see they were using fir and cedar. Pine could be knotty and softer woods werenât as resistant to rot. The supports holding up the trough looked solid, and the cross-bracing seemed substantial enough to eliminate sway once water was running through the sluice. He noted no evidence of shoddy workmanship that would make the structure especially vulnerable in a
âAh
.
â Ethan nodded in understanding. For a nice set of female attributes, a man could overlook a lot.
*Â *Â *
Other than a steep wagon track that ended at the old mine on the hillside, there were two ways into the canyonâone on either side of the creek that had given the town its name. The lower, more gently sloped route on the left was the one the railroad would take. The rougher terrain on the right was where the sluice was being constructed.
Brodie took him right.
Eye-searing sunlight gave way to spotty shade as they climbed up through tall stands of fir and pine and spruce. Noise faded. Other than the occasional scolding from a crossbill or jay, the only sound of their progress was the labored breathing of the horses and the muffled thuds of their hooves on the soft ground.
Ethan relished the solitude and resolved to come back at another time with his fiddle. It had been too long since heâd let music ease his troubles. Might help him sleep better.
The higher they rode, the lower the temperature dropped. Here and there, patches of snow still clung to shaded crevasses. Tiny rivulets of icy water, seeping from under tangles of hawthorn and mountain maple, pooled in the tracks of horses, deer, elk, and sometimes bear. The smell of pine and juniper hung in the still air.
They had ridden a couple of miles when Ethan heard the pounding of hammers echo along the canyon walls. A hundred yards farther, they came to a clearing where a group of men worked on what looked like a log flume, only much smaller. An older man, who seemed to be in charge of the workers, waved and came forward when he saw Brodie.
While the two men conversed, Ethan dismounted and looked around.
He already knew most of the particulars of the project. The design was a common one and fairly straightforward. Approximately five miles up the canyon, and a mile past the mineral spring, a simple sliding valve would divert a portion of Heartbreak Creek into the mouth of the sluice. From there, the water would flow downhill to town, where it would empty into two water towersâone near the old mine that would service the town, and the other beside the tracks, which would provide clean, mineral-free water to passing locomotivesâfor a monthly charge. Any excess water would be channeled back into the creek, thereby keeping the flow moving so it wouldnât freeze in the winter. A good plan.
And a costly undertaking. But once the sluice was completed and the monthly fee from the railroad started rolling in, the investment would quickly pay off. Especially for the Rylanders, who, as majority stockholders in the Heartbreak Creek Development Company, had financed the project. To their credit, they had also dedicated a substantial amount of company stock to the town, as well as a portion of the water fees. That way, once the initial investment was recouped, everyone would have ownership of the water, and any future maintenance costs on the sluice and water towers would be covered by the fees the railroad paid.
A generous arrangement, Ethan thought.
But first, they had to finish the project.
Leaving Renny tied to a sapling beside Brodieâs big sorrel, Ethan wandered along the sluiceâan open trough with two twenty-inch-wide boards nailed in the shape of a
V
, supported by regularly spaced wooden ribs with crosspieces over the top to keep the sides from spreading. It wouldnât be watertight, but once the boards swelled with moisture, it would seal well enough. Besides, with a constant water supply, leakage wasnât an issue.
He was glad to see they were using fir and cedar. Pine could be knotty and softer woods werenât as resistant to rot. The supports holding up the trough looked solid, and the cross-bracing seemed substantial enough to eliminate sway once water was running through the sluice. He noted no evidence of shoddy workmanship that would make the structure especially vulnerable in a
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