“Just so we’re clear, you only want rights to this list of mines? These mines that we’ve already mined out?” The red-faced mine company owner puts a fat finger onto the relevant clause of the paperwork. “This isn’t some trick?”
“It’s exactly like we talked about on the phone,” I reassure him. “We just want to glean the leavings as part of our research into new mineral extraction techniques. In return, we’ll take on all the liability for the environmental cleanup, make sure that the sites are all up to code, and we’ll feature you and your company in a series of Butler Institute ads that we’ll run on TV and on the internet.”
His thick lips turn up into a toothy smile. His environmental record has already stopped him from starting up two new projects and he knows as well as I do that most of the mining sites on the list in the contract haven’t been following a whole bunch of the state’s environmental regulations. It would cost him millions to close them all out properly. He thinks we’re suckers. I put on my innocent sucker face and let him keep thinking it. Evan looks positively cherubic as he sits next to me. The mine owning dirtbag doesn’t need to know that in a decade he and everyone like him will be out of business permanently.
“Well, you drive a hard bargain, sir.” He picks up a pen that probably costs more than what any of his employees makes in a month. “But I can’t turn down a real do-gooder like you.”
Once he scrawls his name on the line, I add mine below it. The notary stamps the document and the representatives from the Bureau of Land Management formally approves the whole thing. I think that last step isn’t actually necessary, but Sheryl insisted it would make for good PR so we’re doing it. We all step outside and get way too many pictures taken and start in on the interviews with the local news stations.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
From Evan: That’s the last of them, right?
To Evan: Keep smiling, brother. There are like four more reporters that we have to talk to.
From Evan: I mean the last of the signing ceremony things.
To Evan: Yeah, this is the last one. With what we managed to get for free this week, we can nanomine enough precious metals to make up for all the extra money we’ve had to spend this year and fund everything for at least another year on top of that.
From Evan: Nice.
The interviews drag through the afternoon. I wouldn’t mind so much if the gross old mine owner didn’t keep looking over at us like he’d taken us for complete rubes. I hope the girls are having more fun exploring Cheyenne than we’re having here. We stick to the script and everything goes smoothly enough. Finally, the questions end and the camera crews pack up their gear.
“What are you thinking for dinner?” I ask my brother.
“It’s got to be steak, right? I mean, we’re in Wyoming. They probably have the cows grazing right behind the restaurants.”
“Yeah. For sure. I think I actually saw a steakhouse with a cow out front on the way here.”
“Want to go check it out?”
“Let’s get our lady friends first. I think they might have other opinions than extra fresh cow. Did you see the text earlier about maybe getting some Thai food?”
He sighs a big fake sigh. “Fine. Deprive me of my ribeye.”
“Don’t worry too much about it. Did I tell you Gramps ran a barbecue restaurant for like thirty years? There’s no way you’re getting through this weekend without eating at least a quarter of a steer.”