Then he leaned forward a bit, "But here, it is the source of even more attention in the press.  Why, I recently read about the mining town of Deadwood.  An illegal town, by the looks of it.   And yet likely to survive despite it all, thanks to the enmity between the West Indian and the American government.  A situation only exacerbated by the death of your great General Custer and the resulting reprisals.  I do not imagine your government will kick out white settlers now, however illicit their encampment.  It would put a sour taste in the voters' mouths."

Franklin shrugged.  Far from him to commit to any opinions at this early stage with a veritable stranger.  Still, he listened with great interest.

He continued to muse, "And one is left to wonder what other riches remain undiscovered on Indian territory.  It may be that soon enough there will be no Indian territory at all.   Perhaps not even any Indians to claim it, if things escalate."

"I could speculate, but those matters I leave to the Bureau of Indian Affairs.  I do my part by .... attempting... to stem the flow of liquor to the red skins.  The less firewater flowing in the tribes, the more peaceful they become.  But back to what we're talking about, have you ever heard of the Montana Mineral & Mining Company?"

That was the company that Fortner and Priest had set up to raise money for a mining operation on the old Potee Homestead, now the site of a potentially rich gold vein.  He'd already filed a claim .. and he owned the homestead after Potee gambled it away that fateful night at the Stardust.

The rubes in Kalispell hadn't been too excited about investing in the Company, so he and Priest were conjuring a way to raise the more money to get the operation off the ground.

Roland shook his head, the name meaning nothing to him.

"I can't say that company has come up in my reading," he admitted, "Is it some new affair emerging in this territory?"

He began to wonder if the business between Lost Lake and the Evergreen ranch might have roots that went past the cattle industry.  If there were mineral resources in contest in the surrounding territory, then that might change the value of land right here in Kalispell.  And if so, it could be that the Steelgraves were interested in capturing Lost Lake land for purposes other than the usual ranching reasons.  It could even be as simple as buying land for five dollars an acre that could later be re-sold for ten.

"Well Sir," Franklin stated, and squared his shoulders as if ready to deal a new hand of poker.  "We have a spread of land fifteen miles northwest of town.  Some gold deposits were discovered there  earlier this year.  This is no secret.  By "we have a spread", I am referring to Judge Hiram Priest and myself.  We won the acreage in a poker game.  Naturally, it helps to have some start-up money, so we formed the Montana Mineral and Mining Company, and we tried like Hell to get some of the townsfolk interested in investing.  The reaction was piss-poor.  It seems most of the citizens would rather piss their money away instead of investing it.  That's okay, just so long as they're pissing it away here."

Fortner reached for a cheroot and struck a match on the steel plate attached to the heel of his boot.

"Right now, even as we speak, there are mining engineers I brought in from Denver, who are examining the vein to see if there is a superstructure of any significance.  Their report is due soon.  Then there is a trip to the assayer's officer and probably some lawyerly papers have to be drawn up in additional to the deed we already have."

Looking squarely at Roland, Franklin laid the rest of his cards on the table.  "I believe in plain dealing.  So, if you are interested in that kind of mining, then perhaps you'd be interested in buying a stake"

1

And so... what was it worth to know if Mr. Fortner was square dealer, or a confidence man?

"A stake in a mining claim could be worth more than I'll ever earn dealing in guns," Roland admitted, "If it proves out."

He leaned back in his seat, the big question being the only one which remained, "How much would a share of stake in this mine run, given the risk of an investment at this time?   I am trying to get a concern going.  I only have a little to spare.  A little to risk."

"Now we're getting somewhere," smiled Fortner.  "Look.  I'm a saloon keeper, not a miner.  Let me advance an unusual proposition we can chew on for awhile."

He confidently exhaled some pent up smoke from his cheroot, and laid his hands flat on the table.

"All you need is to own at least one share of stock.  It goes for $10 per share.  But why not partner a little?  I need a security force at the mine once it starts operations.  We need protection from thieves and sluice robbers.  What I'm proposing is, for a 10 percent stake in the mine, you provide that security team. That, and one share of common stock, at least.   What do you say to that?"

He began doing the mental calculus of wages, factoring it in to his savings.  There'd need to be one man on site at all times before the digging started.  Roland might be able to take one shift himself, to save on expenses.  

"For a ten-percent stake, you've got a deal, Mr. Fortner.  But when the mine starts producing, and security needs increase, that ten-percent will need to be paid promptly in order to keep up the increased security needs.  It's not just thieves from without, you understand.   It's keeping the miners from making off with ore in their pockets or concealed in their hair.  There'll have to be showers and sluices on the way out, and guards to watch.  It's a whole affair."

He held out his hand for Fortner to take.  Already, his eyes gleamed with imagined profits.

"Mr. Smith, it's a pleasure to do business with a gentleman who has foresight and gumption."

Fortner took the man's hand and they shook heartily.

"I'll have my lawyer, Mr. Hiram Priest, draw up the papers to everyone's satisfaction."

He edged closer to the table and lowered his voice.

"You know, I wouldn't draw anyone into this unless I was damned certain that we have a good strike on our hands.  And since you're someone with some keenness, not like a lot of these yokels, once the deal is signed, you will be, as ten percent owner, kept appraised of the progress and the yield."

It was a good day for Franklin Fortner.  The gold mine was a project of his and Priest's that had been percolating for some time.  Now things looked like they were coming together.

"Let's have another drink to memorialize our tacit understanding," Franklin suggested.