Aurora's Gold

by K. J. Gillenwater

  Ben stepped back.

  I took a small scoop of concentrated material and let it fall a little bit at a time into the turning wheel. In a matter of seconds, a small line of gold dust was visible, working its way from the outside Spiral riffle to the center hold with each spin of the wheel.

  “Well, I’ll be darned.” Ben peeked in the catchment box. “So weird to think about gold being heavier than rocks.”

  “Hard to believe a labor-intensive job like this one is connected to the Table of Elements.” I remembered learning all of the weights of the various elements in Mr. Begay’s class in high school. “Did you ever take chemistry?”

  “Probably.” Ben laughed. “I wasn’t the best student. Football had been much more important to me at the time.”

  Giving him a sideways glance, I asked, “So you were always this big?”

  He shrugged. “I just always was better at physical things than sitting still and learning stuff that didn’t seem to matter.”

  I fed the wheel another trowel of concentrates. “Well, if you were designing gold refining equipment, paying attention in chemistry would’ve helped.”

  He smiled. “No doubt.”

  He had a great smile. I had the urge to tell him so. His smile was so genuine, so pure, it made me want to elicit it more often. He had an easy, relaxed grin with a flash of bright white teeth between full masculine lips. Even though he had a shaggy beard, his smile did not get lost in it. I smiled back. I couldn’t help it.

  “What’s this do?” Ben peeked under the tarp in the bed of my dad’s truck.

  “That’s my dad’s trommel. They use that in regular placer mining where you’re stuck with a lot more dirt and junk. The beauty of dredging is, you weed out some of the heavier materials right on board the dredge using the sluice.”

  “Gotcha.” He let the tarp fall.

  “If we’re lucky, we’ll have a few nuggets in here.” I scooped up another trowel of sand and gold. “Gold dust is great, but nuggets are always a good sign when you do a clean out.” I handed him the trowel. “Do you want to try it?”

  “Sure.” He scooped material into the bottom of the wheel and watched as the machine spun its magic.

  The gold dust trail grew wider and longer with each scoop. Ben added more concentrates into the Spiral.

  We stood together in the dim light of a mid-summer Alaska evening, enjoying each other’s quiet company, watching the gold spin ever higher into the cup, and building a gossamer web of friendship between us.

  A shiver ran through me, and I chalked it up to the cooler air and salty sea breeze blowing inland. I inched closer to the fire.

  “I gotta take a quick break.” Ben said. “Can I get the key to your apartment?”

  “Sure.” I dug my keys out. “It’s a little tricky. If it won’t turn, jiggle the knob.”

  “Got it.”

  His fingers brushed my palm.

  Our gazes met.

  “Anyone ever told you your eyes look like the ocean?” Ben asked in a low, quiet voice. “They’re so green.”

  Something dark and secret burned inside me. Something I hadn’t expected or wanted. I tamped it down. “Not that I recall.” My words came out stiff and unwelcoming.

  Ben backed away a few paces and smiled, as if he were happy with my discomfort. “Green as the waves on a cloudy day.” He skipped, turned his back and disappeared around the corner of the apartment building.

  I mused for a moment. What had that been all about? I surely didn’t need a flirtation between me and my new diver with everything I had on my shoulders. But inwardly I was pleased as any normal woman would be. I felt anything but attractive when working the dredge or cleaning up gold. Dirt, grime and the stink of the ocean didn’t make a girl feel pretty. But those few words did. And even if Ben had said them to butter me up, I didn’t care. I locked them away in the back of my brain and let warmth fill me.

  I scooped more gravel and sand. The street out in front of the apartment building grew quiet. Most miners were back home by now and either looking to go out for a drink or settling in for the evening. The sun rode the horizon, still high enough to make it seem closer to mid-afternoon than almost 8 o’clock at night.

  A Jeep roared down the alley toward me—one I recognized. My stomach bottomed out. I didn’t want to deal with Nate Frazier again. Once had been enough, and the way he’d followed me last night had spooked me. I didn’t want to be alone with him. I silently prayed for Ben to hurry back. Then I hoped Nate would drive right past me.

  Nate stopped his Jeep, a few feet from my set up, and hopped out. “Looks like you had a good day out there.” He scratched his arm and sniffed violently a few times. His scraggly hair under a ball cap looked as if it hadn’t been washed in a few days.

  I focused on my work. “Maybe.” Nate wasn’t worth my time. He’d proven to be volatile and unwilling to be reasonable.

  I sensed him coming closer too late. He yanked on my arm and forced me to face him. “You think I’m stupid?” His pupils had dilated so much his irises had been reduced to small rings of brown.

  I pulled free with a jerk. “Don’t touch me, Nate. You don’t want to go there.” Although I sounded confident to my own ears, inside I felt more like jelly.

  He loomed over me. “You owe me. Your father owes me.”

  “I told you yesterday, I don’t owe you anything.” I grasped the trowel like a knife, ready to use it if things turned ugly.

  “Call up Buck. He knows. That dredge is half mine. I spent more than 20 years working with him.” His face twisted into a mask of anger. “Side by side. Even when he couldn’t pay me. Even when I had better offers.”

  Although Nate had always had a short temper, it rose to a level of threat I’d never seen. The rumor about Lola Chang and a possible drug problem seemed more and more likely.

  “My father is ill, Nate. Very ill. He’s in the ICU in Anchorage. They don’t even know if he’ll make it through the surgery he needs. You think I give a flying fuck about you or your problems?” All of the worry and fears about my dad poured out of me. I had reached a point past mincing words. I probably would enflame Nate, but I didn’t care. Goddamn it, I just didn’t care. “My father might die, and you’re worried about half the dredge? A dredge you never put any of your own money into?”

  Nate’s face turned purple. “You think I’m gonna let some pansy-ass daughter of his take what’s mine?” He grabbed my sweatshirt at the shoulders and twisted the thick material in his hands.

  I reared back and mistakenly dropped the trowel. “Let me go, Nate.” Fear had caught up to me. I’d gone too far. He’d snapped.

  He shook me hard.

  My teeth rattled in my mouth. My head snapped back, and I bit my tongue and tasted blood.

  “You are a fucking bitch, Rory. A fucking bitch.” He tossed me aside. “Looks like you’ve got plenty of gold to share.”

  I landed hard on one hand and a knee. My face scraped the rocks around the fire pit. I scrambled away before he could kick me.

  His boot missed my midriff by inches, glanced off the leg of the Spiral and knocked it over with a crash.

  I curled up in the fetal position and covered my head with my hands in a defensive move. I wouldn’t be able to avoid his kicks for long.

  A deafening roar filled my ears. Loud, guttural, black as night. As if a demon had been loosed from hell.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I heard the body blow before I saw it.

  Ben had appeared like an eagle dive bombing its prey. The punch must’ve hit square in Nate’s gut. He’d doubled over by the time I’d come out of my fetal ball next to the fire pit.

  Ben’s face held no emotion. I chalked it up to his military training. Reactions automatic. Defensive and offensive moves were robotic, perhaps, for someone with his background.

  Nate took a step or two back, clutching his midsection, but remained on his feet.

  “What is your problem?” Ben bellowed. He shook out his
fist, opened his fingers and let the tension dissipate. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to hit a girl?”

  Nate coughed. His voice was strained. “Just here for what’s mine. Wait ’til she screws you over, too.” He backed toward his Jeep while keeping an eye on Ben’s position.

  “So you’re a big tough guy, huh?” Ben’s fist tightened up, and he did a fake out move, as if to strike again.

  Nate recoiled and hopped into his Jeep. “Ask her about last summer. She’s not so innocent.” He started up the engine and focused his attention on me, “This isn’t going away. We’re not settled yet. Your bodyguard can’t be around 24/7.”

  Nate pressed on the gas. His Jeep fishtailed in the gravel. The wheels kicked up dust and rock. He disappeared so quickly down the alley that he was gone by the time Ben helped me up.

  “What the hell was that guy’s problem? Are you okay?” Ben gave me the once over noting the scrape on my face and my bloodied palm. “Want me to call the cops?”

  The cops. As if that would fix anything. Nate would end up in jail for a few days, I’d get a restraining order, and he would still come after me. His anger had been raw and real. A court date would only anger him more. I had to figure out another way to deal with him.

  “I’ll be all right.” I wiped the dust off my jeans.

  I saw relief on Ben’s face when I rejected the police. I tucked that away for later. I’d ask him about it when we were in a different mood. Right now, we both had our adrenaline pumping, I’m sure.

  “Let me see.” Ben reached for my hand.

  Although I tried to hide my injury—I didn’t need someone babying me—Ben got hold of my hand and turned it over to reveal the bloody wound from landing hard in the dirt. “I’m okay. It’ll be fine. I just need to clean it off.”

  The touch of his fingers was electric. I shrugged it off as part of the injury. My hand was particularly sensitive, and pain radiated in waves from the hard thud I’d taken.

  “Come here.” Still holding my hand, he made me walk over to the hose, which had been knocked loose from the Spiral. He forced me to put my hand into the flow. The cool water soothed the injury and cleaned off the dirt and bits of gravel.

  Once the wound was clean, I pulled back my hand. “Thanks.” I shook off the excess water. Blood oozed.

  He touched the scrape on my cheek. “That looks like it smarts.”

  I leaned my head away. “It’s fine.” Touching my hand was one thing, but the gentle touch on my cheek made me feel uncomfortable.

  “You need a bandage.” He gestured at me to follow. “Let’s get something on that. I’m sure you’ve got gauze or something in your apartment.”

  “We can’t leave the concentrates out here.” I pointed at the tipped over Spiral with gold spilled on the ground. As much as I’d like to believe the citizens of Nome would leave someone’s gold haul alone, I knew her people better than that. Nate was the rule, not the exception, when it came to greed and violence.

  “Hold up. I’ll be right back.” Ben trotted between apartment buildings. “If that jackass comes back, you run.”

  “Got it.”

  As I waited, I set the Spiral on its stand with my uninjured hand. My knee throbbed. I’d probably have a good bruise there tomorrow. I touched my fingers to my cheek. When I drew them back a bit of blood stained them.

  My mind raced to comprehend what had happened. In all the years I’d known Nate, I didn’t remember him as someone who was dangerous. Sure, he had a temper, and he’d scared me the other night when he’d followed me to Kyle’s. But he’d never been quite this physical. If he had, my father would’ve fired him years ago. Clearly, something had changed in Nate’s life to push him to such a level. If it had been anyone else who’d attacked me, I’d be calling the police. But I knew the man. He’d actually taught me a few things about tending on the dredge that I still used in my day-to-day gold mining work. The idea Nate had gone from slightly weird and touchy business partner to raging lunatic didn’t make sense.

  Nate must’ve had a momentary lapse in judgment. Although I didn’t get a whiff of any alcohol on him when he’d grabbed me by my sweatshirt, his dilated eyes told me he could’ve been high on something. Coke? Meth? I didn’t know much about illegal drugs. Even though an underbelly existed in Nome along with a contingent of drug addicts, I didn’t encounter them on a daily basis, nor did I know any personally. I stayed away from the bars where they tended to congregate and kept to the nicer, more populated parts of town.

  I’d heard drugs typically were kept outside of town limits, on the fringes where they were easier to hide and people could avoid law enforcement. However, every year at least one dredger or another OD’ed. I remember one diver who drowned while high. Not the better dredges run by friends of my father, but the newer ones, the small outfits put together mostly by those who showed up in the summer hoping to get rich. Usually, people looking for fast money had a habit they needed to fund.

  I’d gotten the wheel set up and added the concentrates to the feeder scoop by scoop with my left hand instead of my injured right one. We’d nearly finished emptying out the first bucket.

  Ben returned.

  I was glad to see him. The emptiness of the alley and the growing twilight unnerved me.

  Ben had a roll of duct tape and a couple of napkins. “Couldn’t find any Band-Aids, but I did find this.” He held them up for me to see.

  The skepticism I felt must’ve been apparent on my face.

  “No, really, it works.” He reached out his hand. “Give me your palm.”

  I set the trowel in the bucket and offered him my injured hand. “It’s really not necessary.” The cut was clean, but blood had started to flow again.

  “Enough,” he said. “Let me do this for you.”

  For such a large Beast, he acted gentler than I would’ve expected. He tore off a piece of napkin, folded it a few times, and laid it on the wound. The oozing blood stuck to the napkin, keeping it in place. He took the duct tape, bit it with his teeth and ripped. Then, he carefully wrapped the chunk of tape around my palm, making sure the napkin stayed in place.

  He wound it around a few times, and then stuck it down with an easy press to my palm. When he’d finished he held onto my hand a few seconds longer than necessary.

  “Thanks.” The protection of the napkin and the pressure of the tape honestly made it feel better.

  “You’re welcome.” He tossed the tape next to the buckets. “Back to work?”

  I nodded.

  He picked up where I left off, adding more concentrates to the Spiral. The collection container filled little by little with more refined material.

  Nate had scared me. Maybe I should ask Stella for some advice. She knew Nate well enough, and her family had a long history in Nome. She might be able to offer an idea that would end the dispute without any more violence.

  I thought about how much gold I’d need to pay the mounting bills and to set me up for the dredge-free months. I might have to see if they needed another waitress at the Polar Cafe or a server at Ernie’s or another bar in town. I’d done that in the past when the gold was lean. Not my favorite thing to take orders and serve people—I wasn’t a friendly, social type of person like Stella. But I could do it if I had to.

  My father always managed to figure things out in the lean times. I don’t know how, but I never remembered us going into winter without enough of a cushion to see us through to ice season. He’d taken care of me no matter what. Now it was my turn to take care of him.

  “So you never did tell me what that dude’s problem was with you.” Ben continued to feed concentrate into the spiral, while I sat by the bonfire to keep warm.

  “That’s Nate Frazier.” I tossed another chunk of punky wood on the fire. “He worked with my father as long as I can remember. Last year, we had to fire him. I guess he still harbors a lot of anger about it.”

  “That’s one way to put it.” Ben kept his gaze on the gold-filled tracks
of the Spiral. “Why’d you fire him?”

  “It’s a bit of a long story.”

  “I’ve got nothing but time and another bucket.”

  “All right.” I picked up the roll of duct tape and slipped it over my hand like a bracelet. “Well, it goes way back. My dad and Nate had dredged together for years before I came along.” The flames crackled orange and yellow in the fire pit. The smoke drifted up and up. I spun the tape on my wrist. My gaze blurred as I recalled their history. “They had a few extra divers they’d bring on from time to time, but Nate and my dad were thick as thieves. I guess that’s what happens when you go through a lot of crap together—you bond.”

  Ben kept up a rhythmic scoop.

  “My dad put every red cent into the dredge we have now. Nate came up with the design, sourced the equipment—he didn’t have any money really to put into the business, so he felt his contribution was the manpower, the loyalty. It gets pretty competitive up here for good divers.” I smiled to myself. “But I’m sure you figured that out.” Even though I’d only just met Ben, I knew he wasn’t stupid. He’d sussed out very quickly he was a hot commodity and had pressed for a better deal than I’d wanted to give. After what happened with Nate, I was glad to pay Ben the extra 5%. Already he’d given me some kind of loyalty that I’m not sure I deserved.

  “Last summer, something changed between him and my dad. I don’t know what drove the arguments, but they started to get on each other’s nerves. Nate would gripe about something, then my dad would poke back at him. Like two brothers fighting, you know?”

  The fire popped and sizzled as it consumed the half-rotten wood I’d added.

  “One day, Nate showed up late. We were supposed to be shoving off around 6:00. Kyle had the day off, I was going to tend the boat, while Nate and my dad did the diving. That’s how it usually worked. I’d fill in some of the diving time if it was a particularly long day, but most of my work was above water. Nate suddenly appeared an hour late, drunk as a skunk, and griping about everything—the work, the dredge, how he wasn’t appreciated. My dad had heard it all before. Didn’t think anything of it. We took off for the mining grounds we’d scoped out, and my dad suited up. He’d be the first to dive while Nate sobered up.” I absentmindedly stroked the duct tape bandage with my fingers. Not even Stella knew the whole story about the day Nate was fired. I swallowed. “My dad loved Nate. He really wanted the best for him. Sometimes, though, he was too forgiving. Maybe he should’ve kicked Nate to the curb that morning, but he didn’t. He wanted to give the guy a chance to sober up, straighten out, get over whatever demons he had going on and get back to doing the work he was good at.”