By Jeff Bailey
E.B. Farnum rose from his chair in the back room of the Gem Theatre. “Fellow business proprietors. It’s time we discussed Deadwood’s decline.”
The owner of the Gem Theater, Al Swearengen, sat comfortably. Sylvester Heath, proprietor of Heath’s Curiosities and dressed in grey cotton finery, nodded to Farnum. Arthur Dingler cracked his knuckles again. His grease-stained hands betrayed ownership of his one-man Auto Gyro shop. Seamus O’Toole smiled. The fire marshal provided moral support and his sophisticated tools kept Deadwood safe from fire. Deadwood Dick strode in, followed by an out-of-breath Aunt Lou Marchbanks. Both took the nearest vacant seats.
“I ask Deadwood to acknowledge its debt to its elders, and to businesses keeping folks gainfully employed. Once our community is united, we can free ourselves from this unnatural restraint.” Everyone nodded in agreement. Dingler swore under his breath, and Heath lit a cigar. “This so-called Great Summoning is yet another sacrilegious attempt by the First Nations to derail progress. The current administration simply won’t fight back.”
Seamus spoke. “I asked Mayor Starr about the squatters on the outskirts. I can’t protect them with anything more than a bucket. Last week he said he’d look into it…”
Farnum nodded. “Sol caters to these opportunists. He’s sacrificing everything for a peace we didn’t ask for. I don’t ask for war. Merely respect. We will get better results via secrecy, using methods others consider… unsporting.” His eyes sparkled in the lamplight.
Farmum wagged a finger as he continued. “Others lead us in fighting to reclaim what’s owed. The Miners’ Association secretly fights against the folks arriving with pickaxes in hand and nothing to offer. I persuaded the guild to fight both their enemies and ours. I’ve often worked with Foreman Bryant in the past. I’d rather work with him than a dozen new wildcatters.”
Dingler pointed a finger. “What exactly do you have in mind?”
Farnum grinned. “Oh, deliveries have a way of going missing. I can’t track everything at my own general store. And if we knew what goods these upstarts were having difficulties acquiring, we could price them off the map. Also, we can identify people coming to town to support these jackals. We might persuade these newcomers to go elsewhere. With your blessing, I’ll organize action. We’ll meet in a week.” Farnum left with Aunt Lou and Deadwood Dick.
Heath gestured to Seamus and Arthur. “A moment, please.” They sat down again.
“I need your services. I acquired a design through lawful trade in secondhand goods. I understand its intent, but the execution is beyond me.” Heath pulled a folded paper from his jacket and flattened it across the table. “This will benefit all our work. Your contribution in rendering a prototype would be appreciated.”
Seamus whistled low. “This will… I don’t… But you…” His tongue stumbled as he traced lines on the paper.
Dingler looked over the plans carefully. “I have an idea of what this might do – and the implications of it being used in the town.”
Heath raised an eyebrow. “Do you, really? Follow the design to its conclusion. It may support our aims more than you realize. I leave this in your custody.” Heath straightened his coat and left the engineers alone. They studied it long into the evening – the room steadily filling with the aroma of coffee, sweat, and uneasy fear.