George Summerland's Night

January 18, 1883: George Summerland is in the Tehachepis again. He steps from the train in his stiff Sunday shoes, admiring the new wood of the platform. The last time he was here, weeks of fruitless searching for a clue about where Christian Beveridge might have hidden the gold, he and Samuel Walker killed a rabbit and drank the blood, they were so thirsty. Now, there's a station house where he might have cool water, coffee, or whiskey.
He looks around for the miners that will be meeting him. But the man who approaches looks like he wears a suit every day.
"Mr. Summerland? Glad you have come."
"Sir, you have the advantage."
"Edward Beale. Mr. Vineyard awaits."
George feels a temblor of fear. The Indian Agents, and owners of the Tejon. If they knew about the gold at all, why would they need him?