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Updated: June 21, 2025
"I 'm supposed," she answered with a smile toward Fairchild, "to go to Center City at midnight. Squint Rodaine 's there and Maurice and I are supposed to join him. But but Mr. Fairchild 's promised that you and he will arrange it otherwise." "Center City? What's Squint doing there?" "He does n't want to take the train from Ohadi for some reason. We 're all going East and "
Already a wide path showed up Kentucky Gulch. Already fifteen or twenty miners were assembled about the opening of the Blue Poppy tunnel, awaiting permission to enter, the usual rush upon a lucky mine to view its riches. Behind him, Fairchild could see others coming from Ohadi to take a look at the new strike, and his heart bounded with happiness tinged with sorrow.
A turn, and they skirted a tremendous valley, its slopes falling away in sheer descents from the roadway. A darkened, moist stretch of road, fringed by pines, then a jogging journey over rolling table-land. At last came a voice from the driver's seat, and Fairchild turned like a man suddenly awakened. "Turn off up here at Genesee Mountain. Which way do you go?" "Trying to get to Ohadi."
Dancing girls, newly rich cooks, poverty-stricken prospectors' wives suddenly beaming with wealth, nineteenth-century vamps, gambling hall habitués, all were represented among the femininity of Ohadi as they laughed and giggled at the outlandish costumes they wore and thoroughly enjoyed themselves.
In those days, if you were a friend to a person, you didn't ask questions. All that I ever knew was that your father came to this boarding house when he was a young man, the very first day that he ever struck Ohadi. He did n't have much money, but he was enthusiastic and it was n't long before he 'd told me about his wife and baby back in Indianapolis and how he 'd like to win out for their sake.
A miner came forward, to go through the usual formalities, and then to be asked the question: "Did you see Thornton Fairchild on the night he left Ohadi?" "Yes, a lot of us saw him. He drove out of town with Harry Harkins, and a fellow who we all thought was Sissie Larsen. The person we believed to be Sissie was singing like the Swede did when he was drunk." "That's all. Mr.
But Harry waved him aside. "Ain't I paid the installment on it?" he remonstrated. "What's the rumpus?" Fairchild, with Mother Howard, both laughing happily, was just behind Herbenfelder. And behind them was thronging half of Ohadi. "We thought you were drowned!" "Me?" Harry's laughter boomed again, in a way that was infectious. "Me drowned, just because I let out a 'oller and dropped my 'at?"
It meant everything for Ohadi; it meant that mining would boom now, that soon the hills would be clustered with prospectors, and that the little town would blossom as a result of possessing one of the rich silver mines of the State.
In the heart of Robert Fairchild was the conviction that somehow, some way, his father was innocent, and in his brain was a determination to fight for that innocence as long as it was humanly possible. But gossip told what he did not. There were those who remembered the departure of Thornton Fairchild from Ohadi.
A day after that, then the puffing, snorting, narrow-gauged train took him again through Clear Creek cañon and back to Ohadi. The station was strangely deserted. None of the usual loungers were there. None of the loiterers who, watch in hand, awaited the arrival and departure of the puffing train as though it were a matter of personal concern.
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