The Color of Gothic

by Joel Q. Aaron

  “Where’s Doc Parker?” Sam was excited. “Where is he?”

  “Check his office.”

  Sam sprinted away, faster than those old legs had carried him in years. He skipped two stairs leading up the boardwalk to the doctor’s office. The door was locked. He knocked hard and put his face up to the window and cupped his hands over his eyes.

  “He’s over at the church.” Professor Worthington had followed Sam from the station. “You’re the train engineer?”

  The old man nodded.

  “Doc Parker spoke to me about his forgetfulness or memory loss. He thinks you suffered from the condition too.”

  “Yeah.” He let out a deep sigh. “I thought I was going crazy when I crossed the creek bridge. I can’t figure why I wouldn’t remember something like that—all the killing and…”

  “The creek bridge, is that Copper Creek?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s when Doc remembered. He stopped to wash and his memory came back.”

  “What’s going on here? That creek have special powers or something?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Mr. Jackson, why is my coal not in Gunnison?” Superintendent Daniel Stone stepped onto the boardwalk.

  Worthington’s nerves danced up his spine.

  “We had trouble. Someone sabotaged the East River Bridge then killed Deputy Jarod. I figured they killed Doc too. I had to back the train all the way here.”

  “Can it be fixed?”

  “Yeah, I’ll need about eight or ten guys and at least two days, maybe three.”

  “Well, get to it. I don’t want my coal sitting around collecting dust.”

  “Yes, sir.” Sam Jackson tipped his hat to Worthington then scrambled down the steps toward the station.

  “I don’t believe we have met. I’m Daniel Stone, superintendent for the Colorado Mine and Exploration Company.” The man extended his hand.

  Worthington shook it. A queasy feeling filled his stomach. “Frederick Worthington.”

  “My people have told me you’ve been asking a lot of questions. They tell me you like to talk about… spiritual things. And the cause of the deaths in town. Come to my office and talk with me about these things.”

  An urge to flee picked at Worthington. The superintendent’s demeanor unsettled him. His intentions were not a conversation. Worthington put time between them. “I have an appointment soon. How about tomorrow?”

  Stone cocked his head and a slow smile grew on his face. “Today is better for me.”

  A racket rose from the CM&E office. A large group of miners complained, argued and cussed at each other and the mine boss, Harry Boone. For a short overweight man, he held his own against the miners—screaming and pointing his finger at the men standing in the street.

  “I must go see what this is all about. We’ll talk more.” The superintendent paused.

  Like a cool breeze, a sensation blew over Worthington’s mind and soul seeking inner access. The shock of the violation angered him. Was Stone trying to read my mind, search my soul?

  “Good day for now.” Daniel Stone walked across the street.

  Worthington followed, but kept his distance.

  Stone stuck two fingers in his mouth and blew. The whistle stopped the chatter. “What’s going on?”

  Boss Boone shook his head. “Thank goodness, you’re here. Two more men died this afternoon in the mine. They were playing a prank on some guys, and well… they got shot.”

  “They were acting like vampires. Serves them right,” a miner shouted. Cheers and chatter followed.

  The superintendent stared the crowd to silence.

  “Now, the men are saying they are all going to leave until this gets settled,” Boss Boone said.

  “This true?” Stone asked the miners.

  The men said yes.

  “We will have a town meeting tonight at the Maroon. You’ll need to hear what I have to say. If you go before the meeting, you’ll regret it. Six p.m. at the Maroon. Go tell everyone.”

  Stone spoke briefly with Boss Boone then went inside. The boss mounted a horse and rode toward the Jollytime Mine.

  The professor put his hand on his stomach and cringed, remembering Blair’s reaction. There is something evil about that man.

  * * *

  The Hungarian Crew, as they had been named recently, drank in the No Name Saloon—the smallest bar in town. The owner died after it opened. He never had a sign painted. The next owner didn’t want to spend the money on one. The town folk named the whiskey spot out of necessity, and it stuck. Newcomers had a hard time finding it though. András Kovách and the regulars liked that.

  His entire crew sat around a worn pine table. It had grown to eight, four Hungarians and four American miners. Three of the Americans killed for the first time today—Deputy Jarod. András felt the deed necessary because he didn’t know exactly what happened in the jail house.

  Biztos ami biztos. Just to be sure. A few innocents might die, but to save everyone, it had to be done.

  The swinging door slammed against the walls. Theodore Weinberg hesitated on the threshold. His face filled with anger. As wiry as his older brother, but several inches taller, Theodore wore the frayed clothes of a miner. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dark room.

  “What the hell did you think you were doing to my brother, you bunch of unwanted bastards?”

  “That’s Steven Weinberg’s brother,” one of the Americans told the crew. “The guy up at the Snowed-In Mine.”

  András shook his head when the man’s identity was revealed. “Mr. Weinberg, it is no small thing we did. Your brother was tainted with the evil blood.”

  “Are you ignorant?”

  Members of the crew eyeballed András. He kept his calm. He knew this day would come. The brother had the right to say his peace.

  “I feel for your loss. I too have lost a brother. But Steven was dead before we got there. We had to stop the curse from spreading to others. It was the only way.”

  “I’m pressing charges. I’m gonna get the sheriff to arrest every last one of you Hungryans.”

  “Hungarians.”

  “Shut up.” He reached inside his jacket.

  The crew drew guns.

  “Careful, Mr. Weinberg.” András held out his empty hands. “I don’t want trouble from you or any of the men. We are only doing what must be done to protect us all.”

  Theo Weinberg slowly removed his hand and showed his empty palm. “I’ll stop you from cutting up anyone else.” He pointed his finger at the men. “I’ll stop you.”

  “Then you will be a fool.”

  “Aki délelött bolond, délután is az,” Sándor Varga said. The Hungarian brothers laughed. The Americans questioned everyone with their eyes.

  “He’s a fool in the morning and in the evening,” János Kovách translated.

  “I’ll be watching you.” Theo stormed out.

  “And we’ll be watching him,” András said.

  * * *

  Jonathan Blair rode the stallion to the stable and dismounted. The earthy smell of hay and dung filled the warm air of the wood structure. A mouse ran across the dirt floor of the stall. The horse knocked Blair out of the way as it thrust a hoof at the furry scuttler.

  “Afternoon, Mr. Blair.”

  “And to you, Professor.” He unbuckled the saddle from his horse. “Been here long?”

  “They assassinated Deputy Jarod,” Worthington said.

  Blair listened to the story as he unsaddled the horse.

  “It wasn’t the Hungarians, but I think it was some men who have joined their crew.”

  “I heard the gunshots,” Blair said. “Went for a ride up to the falls to clear my head.”

  “Did it work?”

  Blair didn’t answer. What should he say? That he forgot what was going on in town? How do you explain something like that?

  “Anything peculiar happen up there?” The professor smirked.

 
“Like what?” He shook out the saddle blanket, sending up a cloud of dust.

  “How’s your memory?”

  Blair couldn’t form the words to answer.

  “Seems to be going around.” Worthington winked at him.

  “How did you know?”

  He finished the tale of Sam and Doc Parker and how they had forgotten the events in town. “They both remembered when they crossed Copper Creek.”

  “I never crossed the creek.” Blair rubbed his head under his hat. “I don’t recall when I forgot or when I remembered. I’m not sure where I was.”

  “I don’t think there is a specific geographical boundary for this temporary loss of mental cognition. There is a spiritual atmosphere settling in around this town. This demonic shadow, if you will, is invisible and touches the mind of everyone in the area.”

  Blair reflected on the professor’s words. Like the shadow man of his dreams. “Why do you think it’s temporary?” he asked. “If they never came back to town, would they have remembered?”

  “From what my years of research have shown, they would have only remembered if they were placed in similar circumstances. Or if they had a direct connection to the situation, they were personally involved. They might.” He adjusted his glasses. “What about you? Do you think you would have remembered?”

  The thoughts and dreams Blair had since he arrived in Gothic seemed to be an exact description of the professor’s rationalization.

  “It happens just like you say it does, Professor. There is something demonic in the atmosphere.”

  “Let’s go see what Daniel Stone has to say about it. He’s holding a town meeting.”

  “The superintendent?” Blair couldn’t keep the creepy feelings from shredding his nerves. Stone had to be part of this, if not the cause. Maybe he could find Stone and Pruitt together, kill them both. He’d have to come up with a way to justify putting a bullet in Stone’s head. “Yeah, let’s go.”

  Chapter Seven

  Talk of the Devil

  Theodore Weinberg wormed his way through the crowd but couldn’t get through the door. Other than the hotel, the Maroon Saloon was the largest building in town, though still not spacious enough to hold everyone. The doors and windows were set wide open to let the meeting spill onto the boardwalk and street. Theo sipped from a bottle as he peered inside.

  The barkeeper served drinks to the standing-room-only crowd. Three of the saloon’s female hostesses helped him, but were more interested in flirting than pouring. On the stairs and balcony, Miss Katy Lee and the rest of her lovely ladies hovered above the men. A full house meant more whiskey and busy bedrooms. He and Steven should have bought a saloon instead of mining claim.

  The ladies smiled and teased the men by lifting their skirts high to the eyes below. Horny, drunk men don’t hold onto their money with such a tight grip. Bought a saloon with a brothel, yep, that’s what they should have done.

  Mayor Burdett, Doc Parker, Daniel Stone, Boss Boone, and three other men he didn’t recognize parted the mass until they reached the staircase. That cheatin’ bastard, Jeremiah Pruitt led the way. The mayor stepped onto the first stair and clanged two metal cups together until the room went quiet.

  “Gentlemen. Ladies, y’all look lovely tonight.” Mayor Burdett motioned at the women above him. Theo cheered and whistled with the others. “Quiet down, please. We’re here to discuss the situation affecting us in Gothic. As mayor, I feel it is my duty to make sure the town is safe. I know many of y’all are skeptical of this. But I assure y’all, you’re safe.”

  The miners booed him. He held up his hands to hush them.

  “You can’t go nowhere. We have a job to do.” Boss Boone jumped to the second stair, stood on his toes to see over the mayor, then moved to the third. “You need to hear what the superintendent has to say.”

  He stepped down to let Daniel Stone up. That son of a bitch.

  “Gentlemen, as the individual contracted by the Colorado Mine and Exploration Company, it is my responsibility to make sure our mines are run well, run safely, run efficiently, and run with a profit. There is coal in this ground that needs to be pried from its grip.” He held up his fist. “I need you to do that.

  “I understand some of you men are scared. Fear can cause men to do strange things. But let me assure you, fear is not something to cower to. Yes, men have died. But the good doctor here says there is no such thing as vampires, and those who have acted strange suffered from a form of rabies.”

  “Liar.” A shout came from the back. Theo couldn’t see who spoke, but agreed with him.

  “He is an educated man and knows such things. Don’t let fear control you. Let a force more powerful guide you. Money.” He scanned the audience; he had their full attention.

  “If you leave Gothic, you might as well leave Colorado. We own the majority of the mining claims in Gunnison County and in the state. You will not find work. I’ll put your name on a list. We have enough influence with the other mining companies and other mining districts you won’t be able to find a job mopping a whore house. Excuse me, ladies.” He gave a slight bow to Miss Katy Lee.

  “I’ll go down to Crested Butte, Irwin, and Gunni tomorrow and get an entire new crew up here. So you have a choice, stay and work or go poor and hungry.”

  The superintendent straightened his back and placed his hands in front of his chest in a posture of prayer. He raised his left cheek in a half smile. He had the room’s full attention.

  “But on the other side of this coin, for those who stay and work for me—I’m going to raise the mine wages to a dollar a ton. Drivers will get twenty dollars a week and other laborers sixteen dollars.”

  Cheers filled the room.

  “Deception. It’s all deception.” Theo couldn’t take it any longer. His anger, fueled by whiskey, gave him the courage. “It’s all about your profit.”

  “Mr. Weinberg. My sympathies for your loss.”

  “I’m sure you feel real bad about it. Your men probably—”

  “My men what, Mr. Weinberg?” Stone stared him down until he shifted his glare.

  “I don’t need to say it. You know, Mr. Stone.”

  “I’m afraid I cannot read your little mind, Mr. Weinberg. So why don’t you elaborate.”

  “You won’t run me off. We have rights. You can’t have our mine.” Theo pointed to an open window where the Hungarians stood close enough to hear the meeting. “And you. The law is gonna come for you. I swear it.”

  “Here, here.” Stone banged a glass on the stair railing. “This is not the time or place for such a discussion. My offer to buy your claim still stands. But for now, we must address the concerns of these hardworking men, and you are interrupting.”

  Theo turned back to Stone. “We’re not finished.”

  “Yes, yes we are. Get him out of here.”

  Person-by-person they put their hands on his back and shoulders and forced him through the door. He struggled against the swarm but only managed to drop his whiskey bottle. Expelled from the crowd he found a place to watch near a window.

  Stone settled down the crowd. “Gentlemen. If you stay, you get paid well. If not, you’ll die hungry. You don’t have much time to decide. If you’re late for your next shift, consider yourself jobless. Good night, gentlemen.”

  The mine boss jumped back to the third step. “You heard Mr. Stone. It’s time to get back to work. I’m going to be keeping track of who shows up and who doesn’t. Next shift starts in thirty minutes.”

  * * *

  András Kovách and the Hungarian Crew waited by the open window until the crowd dwindled down. Mayor Burdett, Doc Parker, Jeremiah Pruitt, the mine superintendent and about half a dozen other important people lingered about, answering questions and taking a few abusive remarks. The miners and town folk grumbled and complained as they moved toward the doors. Another fifty miners, including the regulars, stayed and ordered drinks. Miss Katy Lee ushered her ladies downstairs to relieve the men of their britches and
cash.

  The Hungarian Crew gathered in an alley filled with empty crates and trash. “We’re staying,” András said. “We’ll have more work to do, and I’m not talking about mining coal.”

  “You’re correct,” Sándor Varga said. “I have spoken with several other miners and they will stand with us. We will be strong.”

  “We cannot let this spread,” András said. He placed his hands on the shoulders of the brothers. They were strong and muscled, growing into men. “Péter. János. Your father would be proud of both of you.” The brothers each nodded their agreement with their uncle.

  “You men did good today,” András said to three of the American men with them. “I know killing him was hard, but it had to be done to stop this from spreading.”

  “What about what Stone said about this being rabies?” one of the Americans asked.

  “A messziről jött ember azt mond amit akar,” Sándor said.

  “What?”

  “It means you cannot trust him because we cannot prove the truth of his words,” Sándor said

  “Yeah, fejétől bűzlik a hal,” Péter said.

  The Hungarians laughed.

  “Huh?”

  “Fish stinks from the head. The leadership is bad,” Péter translated.

  András held up his hands. “Settle down, we have work to do. Sánd, how many more men will join us?”

  “Eight, maybe ten,” Sándor said.

  “That should be plenty to keep this controlled,” András said. He didn’t want an army, too hard to control. “We need to stagger our mine shifts, so we can keep watch and stay employed. We are now at least fifteen total. I want five of us working, five sleeping and five in town hunting vampírs. János, I want you and Sánd to go to the mine boss to get us scheduled on these staggered shifts.”

  “Will do, Uncle.”

  “We must stop this and anyone who gets in our way, including tonight’s complainer.” András cocked his eyebrow at Sándor. He nodded his acceptance of his task. Sándor would be discreet. There wasn’t a need to discuss the act.

  “Be vigilant and ready to strike at any of these devil creatures,” András said.