Rebellion in the Valley by Robyn Leatherman Page A

Richard’s breakfast. He winced just a tad without even
realizing it; soon as he purchased those shares in the mine, he
would have to stop in at one of the hotel saloons and order himself
a nice hot breakfast to celebrate his new-found riches. He’d been
hearing a few of the silver miners bragging on the food they
served, and he’d meant to stop in there for a while now,
anyhow.
    As long as he wandered back to the Red Bone
before too much time passed and he eased his way up through the
back of the property, he could always make like he’d gotten up
early in order to get a few things done before the day got
started.
    The morning sunshine warmed the hands holding
on to the reins of his horse and he snickered to himself…at least
he wouldn’t be lying. Not completely, anyhow.
    Duffy swung his right leg over the rear end
of his Palomino and as his boot hit the planked walkway, his eyes
scanned down the length of Tyndall Street; the schoolteacher had
already rung the massive bell hanging outside the double doors and
most of the people walking around were only those who were tending
to their everyday chores.
    With one hand, he attached the reins to the
wooden hitching post and paused to think of those fancy ones he’d
heard they used in the big cities back east. From stories related
by some of the local folk who’d been out that way, they were made
from solid cast iron and from what Duffy heard tell, they were even
fitted with thick gold rings for tying the reins onto. He wondered
how heavy they actually were and how far they planted those things
into the ground when the sound of a barking dog caught his
attention. The mutt apparently snagged an older lady’s basket of
food as she was exiting the hotel Duffy planned to eat at once
those shares were hot in his hands.
    The bank smelled clean and tidy; his boots
clanked across the hard wooden floor. Tall windows positioned
across the front of the building allowed plenty of warmth to fill
the large room, adding to Duffy’s already perspiring forehead.
    “Good morning, Sir,” Duffy offered to the man
behind the oversized solid oak banking desk. Thick iron bars across
the length of the desk formed a barrier between the bank employees
and the public; the man on the other side smiled a toothy reply to
Duffy.
    “How may I be of assistance to you on this
fine day?”
    Duffy could just feel himself growing richer
by the second!
    “You can assist me by taking some of my
hard-earned cash here,” Duffy replied, not in the most educated
manner. “I’ll be taking five shares in that Pocahontas Mine this
morning. It’s a little surprise, if ya know what I mean,” he added
with a self-important sniff and a tugging on his cow-hide
jacket.
    Mr. Walter Stuart, the proprietor of the Bank
of Rosita, just grinned.
    “Certainly, Sir. That will be five shares in
the Pocahontas Mine, at ten dollars per share, which comes to a
total of fifty United States dollars, please.” He reached under the
cabinet, retrieving a few formal-looking documents. “If you would
please fill out these forms, sir–quite customary, I assure you.
They will assign each share to its rightful new owner and legally
document you as the purchaser. Each share is numbered, as you will
see at the top of each share form,” Mr. Stuart pointed to the many
places on the sheets of paper as he explained what each spot
represented in legal terms.
    With each stroke of the ink pen, Howard J.
Duffman felt his life getting better - and richer. Behind those
bars, Mr. Stuart tried not to smirk at the grin spreading across
Duffy’s greedy face; he’d seen that same look on several faces
recently and knew what they would eventually amount to.
    Signed and paid for in full, Howard J.
Duffman strolled out of the Bank of Rosita as the proud owner of
five shares in the Pocahontas Mine. Feeling rather invincible, he
decided a hearty plate of breakfast vittles was definitely in order
and instead of mounting his Palomino, he chose to walk