Johnny sighs and turns serious. “Man,” he says ruefully, rubbing at his face, “let me tell you what I’m dealing with. I’m in a bit of a delicate position here. I can’t take a step offa this mountain without people coming up to me asking why they’ve been left out, why your man won’t be digging on their land. That’s people I’ve known since I was a wee baba. I’ve tried to explain to them that I’m not the one that decides where there’s gold and where there isn’t, and if they just let the hare sit, there’ll be plenty of opportunities to go round. But…” He spreads his hands and gives Cal a world-weary eye-roll. “Sure, you can’t make people hear what they don’t want to hear. What would they all think if I let a stranger in on this, while I’m keeping them out? Half the townland would go mental on me. I’ve enough on my plate without that.”
“Well,” Cal says. “I sure wouldn’t want you inconvenienced.”
“It’s not just that,” Johnny explains. “Mr. Rushborough’s not looking for a lucrative business venture. He’s looking to get in touch with his heritage. No harm to you, but an American who blew in with a few grand in his pocket to buy up Irish land…that’s not the buzz he’s after. He wants to hear that there’ll be no outsiders in this, because then he knows he’s no outsider. If it starts to look like a free-for-all, the whole idea might turn sour on him, and then where would we all be?”
“Hate to think,” Cal agrees. He looks over the house, at the thick grove of trees rising up the mountainside. Even in this weather, a breeze nudges among the branches, languid but not restful, saving its force.
“Like I said,” Johnny reassures him, “there’ll be plenty to go round, all in good time. You just sit tight. You’ll get your share. You never know: Mr. Rushborough might even fancy having his own wee bit of Ardnakelty, and come looking to buy your land.”
“Gee whiz,” Cal says. “Imagine little ol’ me being bought out by a millionaire.”
“The sky’s the limit,” Johnny tells him.
“What happens if the guy decides to head out panning first thing this morning?” Cal inquires. “Once his hangover wears off.”
Johnny laughs, shaking his head. “You’ve some mad ideas about all this, man. D’you know that? You talk like Mr. Rushborough’s only here to grub up all the gold he can get his hands on. He’s here to see the land where his ancestors lived and died. He’s got plenty to do before he gets around to the river.”
“Let’s hope so,” Cal says. “Be a shame if your gold rush was over before it even got going.”
“Listen to me, man,” Johnny says indulgently. “This story about putting gold in the river, or however it went. I don’t know who told you that, but whoever he was, he was taking the mickey—having you on, that means; having a wee joke with you. We’ve a fierce mischievous sense of humor around here; it takes a while to get used to. Don’t you be doing anything foolish with that story, now, like maybe bringing it to Mr. Rushborough. Because I can tell you right now, he won’t believe a word of it.”
“You don’t think?” Cal inquires politely. He has no intention of discussing this with Rushborough. He’s under no illusion that he has Rushborough’s measure yet.
“Ah, God, no. I’ll tell you what to do. Don’t let on you fell for the story—don’t be giving Mart Lavin, or whoever ’tis, the satisfaction. Go back home and say nothing about this morning. And when he comes asking how you got on with me, you laugh in his face and ask him if he takes you for a fool.”
“That’s an idea, all right,” Cal agrees. He turns around to lean his arms on the rail, shoulder to shoulder with Johnny. “I got a better one. You cut me in for my share, and I won’t go up to town and tell Officer O’Malley what kind of scam you’re running on his patch.”
Johnny looks at him. Cal looks back. They both know Officer O’Malley would get a great big handful of nothing out of Ardnakelty, but that doesn’t matter: the last thing Johnny needs right now is a cop all up in his business, making everyone wary.
Johnny says, “I’m not sure I oughta let Theresa hang around a man that’d want in on a scam like that one.”
“You’re the one that came up with the idea,” Cal says. “And let her hang around to hear it.”
“Didn’t happen, man. And if it had, I’m her daddy. That’s why I want her around me. Maybe I oughta look a little harder at your reasons.”
Cal doesn’t move, but Johnny flinches anyway.
Cal says, “You don’t want to try that, Johnny. Trust me on this one.”
The heat is building. The sun up here is different; it has a scouring quality, like it’s scraping your skin raw to make it easier to burn. Liam and Alanna have started chanting something giggly and triumphant, but the high air of the mountain thins it to a wisp of sound.
Cal takes the three hundred bucks out of his pocket and holds it out.
Johnny glances at it, but doesn’t move to take it. After a moment he says, “That’s nothing to do with me. If you want to do something with it, talk to Mart Lavin.”
