by Anna Furtado
Tucker stood up and started pacing around the small bedroom office. “All this information is good to know, I’m sure, but I don’t see how it can help me. Let’s think about what I know from back in 1873, see if I can get a bead on something from back then in light of everything we now know.”
“Okay, but let’s do it in the kitchen or the living room.”
Tucker stopped pacing. “Okay, but, out of curiosity, why do we have to go to another room?”
“Because you’re making me dizzy.” Leah laughed and pushed Tucker out of the tiny office.
Tucker plopped down on a seat at the kitchen table and stared at the list again. “How do you suppose Demetrius Notch ended up in my head as Dunbar when I never saw the guy before today?”
“Are you sure you’ve never met him? Seen him on the street in Portero, maybe?”
“I guess it’s possible I may have passed him on the street, but I’ve never met him. And why would he be haunting me like this?”
Forget.
There it was again, the word. “Why do I keep hearing the word ‘forget’? It’s driving me crazy.”
“What does it sound like? Is it the voice of anyone you know?”
“I don’t think so. It’s another voice, not the voices I usually hear in my head.” Tucker chuckled at her own joke.
Leah cocked her head, a curious look on her face.
Tucker added, “You know, when I’m writing, I hear the character’s voices in my head.”
Leah cocked her head to the other side and scrunched up her brow.
“Never mind. It’s a writer thing.”
“You’ll have to explain it to me one day,” Leah said. “But what do you mean by ‘another voice’?”
“It’s like someone else is whispering the word in my ear, over and over again. It happens every time I think about Dunbar or something associated with him, like Lily. And why does Dunbar want to kill me? I’m sure he made the sheriff throw me in jail to keep me from snooping around and taking up Lily’s time. I’m almost as certain he’s the one who started the fire outside the jail. I thought maybe jealousy drove him because he thought I got too close to Lily, but now, I’m not so sure. Maybe there’s another reason. Maybe it’s something I’ve for-got-ten.” Her elongation of her last word made it reverberate in her mind again.
That voice. She was convinced she’d heard it before, but where?
Leah shook her from the question with one of her own. “The other day you told me this all started when you staggered from The Charlie, banged up and confused. Right?”
“That’s correct.”
“Do you remember actually being inside The Charlie before any of this happened?”
“No. And actually, it was closed when it happened.”
Forget.
“What about the year 1873? When we looked through the newspapers, nothing stuck out as significant news that year. Do you think the year itself means anything?”
The numbers materialized in her mind’s eye like numbers on a page. One-eight-seven-three. They appeared bold and dark, surrounded by a halo of light.
Forget.
How bizarre. “I have no idea why it would be that particular year,” she said. She ran her hand through her long, mahogany hair, frustration washing over her.
Chapter Nine
A WEEK LATER, Tucker sat at a table at the front of the small Elder Creek Elementary School auditorium at a community meeting.
“The next item on the agenda is our plan to open the mine.”
Someone from the crowd said, “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, Tucker.”
Her brow furrowed as she scanned the audience for the speaker. Before she figured it out, someone else spoke. This time, he stood to identify himself.
“We’ve heard opening the mine would be too dangerous. We think you should forget—”
She heard nothing more. The word “forget” echoed in her brain. Her skin went pale. She plopped into her chair. In the background she heard the crowd roar in protest. She’d lost all control. As she struggled to refocus on the meeting, she saw the mayor, who sat beside her, raise his eyebrows as chaos erupted around them.
She pushed the reverberating word from her mind and wished she’d brought something to use as a gavel to rap on the table in front of her, but she’d only taken a pen and a few sheets of paper with her.
As the chaos continued, the mayor leaned over and said, “I think you better do something, Tucker.”
She returned a look of panic and gazed around in the midst of the hubbub. When she spotted a huge hunk of worn wood by the door to the stage behind them, apparently used for a doorstop, she jumped up and hurried over to it and watched her hands shake as she clamped onto it. It took all her effort not to lose her grip. When she returned to the table, she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself as the bedlam continued all around her. She lifted the block above her head. It felt so heavy, more like an anvil than a block of wood. Rather than lose control of it, she let the weight of it carry her arms down as it slammed on the surface with a loud bang. She didn’t know where she found the strength to lift it two more times. Each time, she felt a little calmer, strength returning to her limbs, and she heard the room noise quiet a little with each loud explosion on the table surface. When she lifted it again, she saw three large dents in the tabletop.
She regretted the damage, but it did the job. The people in the room froze. The commotion stopped. Everyone turned their attention to Tucker.
She took in a deep breath, hoping to convey her thoughts forcefully enough to get people beyond the figurative blockades they tried to erect.
“Look,” Tucker said. “This idea has been on the table for weeks now and none of you have come forward with one good reason about why we shouldn’t do this or suggest what we should put in its place to have a decent draw to keep this town alive. There have only been a couple of vocal dissenters, and most of those questions and concerns have been addressed.” She exaggerated, she knew, but desperation drove her to get a handle on the situation.
The man who stood up before all hell broke loose stepped forward to speak. “We’ve been concerned, but we weren’t sure if the rumors we heard were true. Then Joe Dawson said—”
“Joe Dawson is a gossip and a rumor monger and you shouldn’t be listening to him. He’s just trying to stir up trouble and make sure nothing changes in this town. If you want to listen to him, you’ll all end up with a ghost town with worthless property values.”
The man’s eyes widened. He held up his hands in surrender and melted back into the crowd.
She glanced over at Leah, who sat in the front row. She wore a smirk, leading Tucker to believe she tried to control a bigger grin from erupting. Although Tucker wanted to stay focused on those luscious lips, she knew she’d lose her train of thought if she did.
The Curmudgeons remained silent tonight. They both sat in the audience without uttering a peep, and now Tucker sent up a prayer of gratitude to the Universe for small favors and a quart of root beer.
The attendees shuffled and took their seats again. The rumbling of quiet conversation dissipated until only a cough and some rustling of people settling back into place broke the silence.
Tucker inhaled deeply and said, “Mine tours will be a real shot in the arm to the town’s coffers. It will mean infrastructure improvements everyone here wants to see, and the people who will come for these tours will spend time in our hotel, they’ll buy meals in our restaurants and saloons, and they’ll purchase goods and souvenirs from our shops.”
A low murmur rolled through the crowd like a wave at a football game. Then everything went silent again.
“And when these people come into town, they’ll gain something in return. They’ll be able to get a sense of the history here, and they’ll leave with an appreciation for the people who founded this place and the hard work we’ve done to preserve it. We can’t let myths and tall tales used to keep children from misbehaving stop the momentum we�
��ve started. Elder Creek has unlimited potential to become a great town again, like back in the Gold Rush days and in the years following. Maybe it can be even better. We can’t merely throw this opportunity away. If we do, Elder Creek may head the way of other abandoned towns in the state—boarded up, empty has-beens, drawing people to walk dusty streets and gawk in windows at the leavings of our existence. I don’t think anyone wants to be a party to turning Elder Creek into a ghost town.”
A few mutters came from the crowd. Tucker continued before they died away, trying to prevent another uproar.
“We need the mine as our centerpiece. We need to have this draw. If we make it entertaining, interesting and throw in a little bit of history, everything else will flow from it. People will come to Elder Creek and spend their time and their money here, and who here wants to stand in the way of something so productive?”
She called off the names of some of the people who surprised her with objections a few minutes before. Most were merchants who owned small businesses in the town. She knew singling them out would call them to accountability for their unfounded reservations. When she finished the list, she added, “If you don’t want an increase in business, if you don’t want this town to thrive, then you’d better say so, right here, right now. Go on record right in front of your friends and neighbors, otherwise, we proceed as planned.”
A deafening silence followed. She said nothing. People shuffled uncomfortably in their seats. Someone at the back of the room coughed again. No one spoke until Tucker finally continued, “I don’t hear any objections. This is your last chance.” Again, she waited. “Then we’ll open the mine. I’ll arrange to have someone come in to do a safety inspection, and we’ll see what needs to be done to make sure our guests and our guides are safe, first and foremost. We’ll also ask for local volunteers to do a thorough inventory of what’s inside the mine to make sure we don’t have any surprises.” She refrained from a sarcastic remark about finding rumored ancient dead bodies inside.
“Jackie, would you send a sign-up sheet around so people can volunteer to do the walk-through with us. Anyone who volunteers will have to be able-bodied because we may need to crawl around a bit. We have no idea what it will be like in there.
“After we get those two inspections finished, we’ll do what needs to be done to get the mine opened for anyone to tour and you merchants can get ready for an increase in revenue.”
The murmuring from the crowd sounded more upbeat this time.
“The rest of you townsfolk can get ready to see improvements we’ll all be happy with, I’m sure. I can’t see any reason anyone will have a problem with positive changes, things like improved roads and city services, can any of you?”
Heads shook back and forth. She saw a few faces brighten, saw some smiles. The buzz in the room took on a much more positive feel. She knew she succeeded. They’d open the mine and get things moving. Elder Creek would get the shot in the arm it needed. For the first time since they opened the topic for discussion, Tucker smiled.
Then she said, “I have one more proposal regarding the mine.”
The noise in the room ebbed.
“Since a lot of people in this town voiced some negative reactions at the mention of the Reddman Mine, and since it’s been abandoned for a lot of years now, not belonging to anyone in particular and actually claimed by the town itself anyway, I propose we change the name to the Elder Creek Mine or something similar. A new name will give it a fresh start with a new purpose and great possibilities. The Elder Creek Mine will give us nothing but positive returns. What do you say?”
She looked at the mayor to see if he approved. She never thought to discuss a name change with him ahead of time. When she saw him grinning from ear-to-ear, she knew he accepted the proposal. The hum in the room grew to a crescendo. Finally, one of the merchants shouted above the noise. “I think it’s a great idea, Tucker. I think we should put it to a vote right now.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jenkins,” Tucker yelled.
She didn’t want to do any more damage to the table than she’d already done, so she held up both arms, waiting for quiet. When the crowd settled down, she lowered them and said, “Okay, folks, you heard the man. All those in favor of renaming the Reddman Mine to now be called The Elder Creek Mining Company, signify by saying ‘aye.’” She made up the new name on the fly, smiling wider at the sound of it.
The crowd’s assent reverberated off the walls. Tucker eyed everyone in the room, then added, caution and a bit of warning in her voice, “Opposed?”
No one spoke. More shoe scuffs and a cough or two followed. She picked up the block of wood in both hands and slammed it down on the table again. She’d apologize to the school for the damage later.
“So moved. The Elder Creek Mining Company is now the centerpiece of the Elder Creek revitalization project. Thank you, everyone. This meeting is adjourned.”
The noise pitch rose again as people got up from their seats and started moving around, engaging friends and neighbors in conversation. Tucker walked over to the mayor as he rose from his seat.
He shook her hand with enthusiasm and said, “Quite a speech you gave tonight, Tucker. It certainly made me want to jump up and shout my support. I knew we picked the right person for this job. Thanks for all the hard work you’re doing.”
Tucker’s cheeks colored at the compliment. “No problem, Mr. Mayor. I signed on to see this to completion and I’m determined to do it.”
“Renaming the mine was quite a master stroke. You know we didn’t need a vote, though, don’t you? The core revitalization committee has the authority to make such changes. It’s part of the charter.”
“Yes, I know, Mayor, but since everyone appeared to be swept up into the spirit of it, I thought it best to let everyone have their say. Now, they own their decision. I don’t think we’ll have much trouble going forward. Anyone who objects after this will find themselves standing alone. And most people in town will put any naysayers in their places quickly.”
The mayor agreed.
When several people approached them, wanting to shake Tucker’s hand, she obliged until they wandered toward the mayor to engage him in conversation. Tucker took the first opportunity to look for Jackie and Leah.
She found them pouring a red-colored liquid, punch no doubt, into small paper cups from a huge punch bowl. When she approached Leah, she handed Tucker the cup, then poured another for herself.
“I’ll bet the meeting went better than you thought it would,” Leah said with a smile.
Jackie joined them and chimed in, “Yeah, for a while there, I thought they might string you up when you started on the mine, but I’ve got to hand it to you, you pulled it off without a hitch. It looks like they love the idea now. Look around, everyone’s smiling. We might have to start calling you The Magician after the rabbit you pulled out of your hat tonight.”
They all laughed. The people in the room, including Jackie, faded. Leah’s eyes danced as she held Tucker’s gaze. Tucker’s heart raced. Then, Jackie called Tucker’s name. Asked her where she was, since she obviously wasn’t listening to her. Leah laughed at the question. The sound of her mirth took Tucker’s breath away. The other people in the room came back into Tucker’s view. She cleared her throat and directed her attention to Jackie. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
Jackie looked from Leah to Tucker. “Never mind,” she said. “It’s not important.”
They continued watching the crowd. The energy in the room reflected the good mood of the gathering. People stood in small groups, laughing, talking, all with smiles on their faces.
One section of the crowd opened up as people shifted about. Some headed for the door to leave, some changed their positions in the room to talk to a new group. Was that familiar figure Joe Dawson’s that appeared in the newly created opening?
“Is that Joe Dawson?” Tucker asked. She glanced back at Jackie. “I didn’t know he’d returned.”
“Neither did I,” Jac
kie said.
Jackie inched closer to Tucker, and they both craned their necks as the group reorganized again and the gap closed.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” Tucker said. “It looks like he’s disappeared again.”
SEVERAL HOURS AFTER the meeting, Tucker and Leah sat in the empty Charlie, drinking a local draft Jackie served them. Jackie was busy training Denise Miller-Sanchez in the process of closing up the bar at night. Jackie and Denise chatted quietly while Denise stacked glasses into a large rack to take to the dishwasher in the back room. Jackie wiped down the bar surface with a bar towel.
Leah said, “Jackie told me you saw Joe Dawson at the meeting.”
“I think I did, anyway, but he left before I got a chance to talk to him.”
“Are you still thinking about him for the recycling project?”
“I’m not sure. If he’s going to disappear the way he did, then it means we can’t depend on him. I might have to find another way to do it. Maybe you, Jackie and I can put our heads together to see if we can figure out something else. I’d hate to have to hire a recycling contractor from Portero. It’ll cost a lot more than if we let Joe take a cut, but we’ve got to do something so we’re prepared for the influx of people once we get up and running.”
“Well, we still have time to work all those details out, don’t we?”
“Yeah, a bit. Anyway—” Tucker broke out in a sly grin,”—I’ll put it on Jackie’s list to worry over. I’ve got other things to think about. With the town’s buy-in to proceed with the mine, there will be a lot to do.”
“By the way,” Leah said, “What a stroke of genius that was to rename the mine.”
Tucker’s smile widened. “I’m a regular Albert Einstein, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, Einstein, now what are you going to do about that list of questions you’re carrying around in your pocket? The ones about what’s going on with you and your other experiences of late?”