Style, you
either have it or you
don't. And if you have it, you have it
all the time.The Rogue's Quiet Weekend
by Tux Toledo
Page 10
"No,
I don't own it. What's your name?"
"Emery."
"What do you do around here, Emery?"
He was still suspicious. "I used to pan for gold," he said.
"Gold?"
"Now don't get excited, mister. There ain't none anymore.
Used to be plenty of it. Not here, up by the river, little ways up
north. I panned more gold than you've probably ever seen. I remember
those days. We'd strike gold and then rush off to the National Hotel
and buy everyone drinks. Those were good days, mister. Drank quite a
bit. But them days are gone and they won't come back. No, mister, there
ain't no more gold here."
"How do you know? Maybe the gold's underground?"
"Listen, mister, I can smell gold. I can take a hand full of dirt,
bring it up to my nose and smell if there's gold down below." He
reached down for a handful of soil, brought it to his nose, sniffed,
shook his head and dropped the dirt. "Nope, no gold here."
"Very scientific," I said.
"Science ain't got nothing to do with it," he snapped.
"I see."
"Mister, I've smelled every bit of land in this county and there ain't
no gold here. Not here, not in the river. None, nowhere. There ain't no
gold nowhere around here."
"Then why are you still here?"
"I ain't doing no prospecting, if that's what you mean. Oh, I
go down to the river every now and then but it ain't no good. I live
off the gold I panned fifty years ago."
"Well, there's new gold on its way, Emery," I said. "Someone's going to
build offices and hotels on this land."
"Offices? Hotels? Why would anybody want to build those
things here?" He looked around the rough land. "This land's worthless,
mister. That's why nobody cares if I live here."
"I'm afraid those days are over, Emery."
© 2008 David Biagini