“The buy-in’s three hundred bucks. Right?”
Johnny shakes his head, grinning, blowing out air. “My God, Theresa musta got the wrong end of the stick altogether. What’s she after saying to you, at all?”
“She hasn’t said a word,” Cal says. “About that or any of it. And I haven’t asked her.”
Johnny hears the edge in his voice and backs off fast. “Ah, I know you wouldn’t do that,” he assures Cal. “Only you have to understand, man. This’ll be a wonderful opportunity for Theresa, I’ll be able to give her all kinds of things that she’s never had up till now—music lessons, she’ll be able to have, and horseback riding, and whatever she fancies. But I won’t have her put in the middle of it all. Being quizzed about what she knows, having to worry about what she should and shouldn’t say. ’Twouldn’t be fair on her.”
“Yeah,” Cal says. “I’m with you on that.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Johnny says, nodding gravely. “It’s great to be on the same page.” He brushes off the gate rail and leans his forearms on it, narrowing his eyes to gaze out over the mountain slope. “Then, if you don’t mind me asking, who was it said this to you?”
“Well,” Cal says, settling his back against the gate, “I gotta admit I was kinda surprised you didn’t mention it to me yourself. What with my land being right on the gold line, and all.”
Johnny’s face registers a twinge of embarrassed reproach, like Cal has committed a social error. “I’da loved to bring you on board,” he explains. “I need a chance to repay a wee biteen of all the kindness you’ve shown Theresa, while I was away. But that’ll have to wait a little longer. Man, no harm to you and no offense meant, but this is Ardnakelty business. Mr. Rushborough’s going to stick to taking his samples on land that’s owned by Ardnakelty men. You heard him last night: where to find the gold, that’s been passed down through his ancestors, and ours. Not yours.”
Cal is out of practice. He let Johnny use Trey as a sidetrack, and now Johnny’s had enough talking time to recover his footing and come up with an angle.
“Well, I can see why you’d take that into account,” he says, smiling at Johnny. “But it was an Ardnakelty guy that told me the whole story, and invited me along last night. He said I oughta remind you about me and my land being involved, just in case you’d forgotten. Does that set your mind at ease?”
Johnny laughs, his head going back. “Go on, let me guess. Mart Lavin, is it? He’s always been a terrible man for stirring the pot. I thought he’da outgrown it by now, but some people never learn.”
Cal waits. He’s had squirrelly little conversations like this with squirrelly little fucks like this before, hundreds of times: two-layer conversations where everyone knows what’s going on, and everyone knows that everyone knows, but they all have to keep playing dumb for the squirrelly little fuck’s convenience. The wasted energy always irritated him, but at least back then he was getting paid for it.
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.