by David Haynes
Thunder was thunder. He hadn’t been afraid of that even when he was boy, so why was he shaking like this?
He closed his eyes and listened. His left eardrum had burst. He knew that, it had popped before. But then it had been due to an infection, not a storm. He clutched his ear again. There was a box of Tylenol somewhere. He had a feeling he might need a whole lot of it. Rain pattered down on the roof but apart from that there were no other sounds.
His breathing slowed and he pushed his back against the door to stand up. He was being stupid, he realized, jumpy about stealing gold and getting caught. He pushed his fingers into his jeans pocket and withdrew the nugget. He forgot about everything else for that moment.
The jar he kept the nuggets in was in a locker under the bed. The back panel of the locker was broken and it slipped out easily, giving access to a perfectly sized little cave. He dropped the gold inside then slid the jar back into place.
Nobody would ever suspect him. If any suspicions arose then all eyes would turn to Draper. He’d been accused before and mud always stuck. Just like the stuff all over his clothes.
15
“I don’t get it,” Draper started. “I don’t understand why we only got twelve ounces from that last clean-up.” He banged the jar down on the table. They were standing out the rear of the saloon after drying the gold. “There was more than that in the pan I took, Ray.”
Mercer winced. “We’ve put a lot of dirt through that plant. I mean a lot,” he said.
“And it’s running fine?”
Mercer nodded. “It’s the best plant we’ve ever had. Vinson’s got it purring.”
Draper shook his head. “I don’t get it,” he repeated.
“I don’t know. Think we oughta try over the other side of the creek?”
Draper sighed. “It’s not been tested and it’ll take us a week to clear it. A week of running time we don’t have.” He looked at Mercer. “I’ve got to go in there and tell them what we’ve got. I’m not looking forward to seeing how disappointed they look.”
Mercer picked the jar up and handed it to him. “We’ve been through lean spells before. It’s no biggie. A couple of weeks' time and that jar’ll be full.”
“I hope so. I’ve got to find gold, Ray. I’ve got to find something. The lease has cleaned me out and Burgess’ll take the rest. That’s me done. For good this time.” He could hear a hint of desperation in his voice. He hoped Mercer couldn’t hear it.
“So what’re we gonna do about it?” Mercer gave no indication that he heard anything unusual in Draper’s voice.
“Night shift?” Draper offered. “Run more dirt, it’s the only way. Either that or we take a gamble on the ground over the other side of the creek.”
“That’ll be popular,” Mercer smiled.
“It’ll be more popular than walking away with gas money home and nothing else.”
“I guess.”
“How about we finish up Resurrection, take it down another couple of feet, see how that works out? If it’s a dead loss, we take the gamble and move. What’ve we got? Another two weeks' worth of dirt? And about six more weeks up here, if we’re lucky.”
“About that. If we go deeper, process some of that bedrock, we’re gonna put that plant under some real pressure. That’s a gamble in itself.”
Draper rubbed his face. His beard had gone past the irritating stage about a week ago. “I know but it’s new, it’s tough and like you said, Vinson’s got it purring. It can handle it.”
The two men were silent for a moment. Draper was dreading going into the kitchen to give them the bad news.
“How are they? Spirit okay?” he asked.
Mercer nodded. “Fine, they’re all fine. Puckett’s still an ass but other than that, they’re good.”
Too many fines and goods there. That wasn’t Mercer’s style.
“Fine? Last time I heard you use that word was when you were in court and they gave you one.”
Mercer laughed. His massive shoulders moved up and down. “Well look, man. They know things aren’t going well, they know we haven’t made them rich but they’ll keep going like they always do.”
He was referring to Puckett and Flynn. Meg and Vinson were unknown quantities when the going got tough.
“Vinson was a good find. Knows his stuff.”
Mercer nodded but didn’t say anything.
Draper picked up on it. “What? You don’t agree? He’s your man.”
“He knows his stuff all right, that’s for sure.” Mercer paused obviously searching for the right words. “Just... I don’t know, he doesn’t quite fit. Too quiet.”
“Nothing wrong with that. Puckett’s got enough mouth for all of us.”
“Yeah, I know. Just a feeling.”
“As long as he keeps that plant running and all the vehicles on track then he’s okay by me.” Draper paused and shook the jar. It was like a golden snow globe. “And Meg?”
“Oh, man, she’s keen. She wants to know everything, just like her old man. She works hard too. You should see Puckett trying to keep up with her.”
Draper had purposely assigned himself to tasks away from Meg. It was difficult for him but he knew if she was to give him a second chance, it wouldn’t be because he deserved it. It would be because she allowed it.
“Good.”
“You should try to speak to her again,” Mercer said.
“Reckon she’ll let me?”
Mercer shrugged. “Maybe. What’s the worst that can happen?”
Draper laughed despite the terrible ache he had for her. “I don’t know, Ray? That she’ll bawl me out like she did down in Chicken?”
“Just try.” Mercer slapped his back. “Ready?”
Draper nodded and walked toward the door. He could hear them talking on the other side, out on the porch.
The chatter stopped when he pushed through. Four expectant faces turned toward him.
“What we got, boss?” Puckett asked.
“Not so good, I’m afraid. We only got twelve.” He held the jar up for them to see.
“Crap!” Puckett took the jar off him. “There’s only two tiny nuggets in there. Rest is all flakes and glitter.” He handed it to Flynn who passed it straight to Meg.
“What’re we doing wrong?” she asked.
It was unusual for her to speak when Draper was around. But her question was directed at Mercer anyway.
There was a moment of silence as she waited for an answer but Mercer kept his mouth shut.
“Nothing,” Draper replied and looked at her. She didn’t look away. “We’re digging where it should be. Where everything tells us it is. It just isn’t there.”
“What’s next then? Carry on regardless?” There was no animosity in her question, there was no feeling at all, it was just a straight question.
“We’ve got a couple of ideas.”
He watched Meg hand the jar to Vinson. He took it from her and held it up to the light. He was smiling but he was inexperienced, so seeing even that much gold must be a new one for him. It was for Draper too, a long time ago.
“We’re going to run a night shift.”
Puckett groaned.
“We want to run the last of Resurrection through the plant but I want another foot out of it. I want to run the bedrock.”
“That’ll be fun,” Puckett said.
Flynn shoved him. “Stop running your mouth and listen.”
“We’ve got about a week left to clean it up,” Draper continued. “If it’s as bad as the last few weeks then we’ll move over the other side of the creek, down where the pump is and give that a shot.”
“What do the tests show down there?” Flynn asked.
“They don’t,” Mercer jumped in. “None been done so it’s a gamble but if the streak runs where we think it runs then that’s our best bet.”
Flynn nodded. “Sounds like a deal.”
“And if it doesn’t?” Meg asked.
“Then we all go home broke,” Vi
nson replied. He was still smiling. There was something about that smile that Draper didn’t care for.
“No one’s going home broke, Mike,” Draper said. “I’m going to make sure of that.”
“You can’t guarantee it though.” Vinson shrugged. “I mean, in all honesty, you can’t guarantee we’ll find gold, can you?”
“No, I can’t guarantee it.” Vinson still had the trace of a grin on his face. Draper felt the urge to wipe it off with his fist. “You’re right about that but...”
“He’s never failed before,” Meg cut in. She was fixing Vinson with a stare.
Vinson shrugged again. “I was just saying, that’s all.”
Had Meg jumped in out of loyalty or pride, or some other reason? Draper didn’t really care. It felt good to hear his daughter say those words about him.
“Who’s up for the night shift, then?” Puckett asked.
“I’ll take it,” Vinson jumped in. “I don’t mind. I don’t sleep well when it’s light for half the night anyway.”
“Thanks, Mike. I’ll come in with you.” Draper turned to Mercer. “I can do half a shift and pile the dirt up for Mike to process, then at least I’ll be okay to do the day shift too.”
“You sure? I’ll split it with you?” Mercer asked.
Draper shook his head. He wanted to show the others that he was going to do everything he could to get them back on track. Even if it meant working alongside Vinson. “I’ll need you to keep managing the day shift. Okay?”
“Sure,” Mercer nodded.
“Everyone okay with that?”
They all nodded.
“Anyone for sloppy-joes?” Puckett stood up smiled. “I make a mean sloppy-joe!” He grabbed Meg’s hand and pulled her up. “Come on, you can help.”
Draper noticed how she didn’t resist but simply shook her head and smiled. He wanted to reach out and say thank you for what she said, but dared not in case he’d misread it somehow.
“Eating Puckett’s sloppy-joe doesn’t sound quite right to me,” Flynn said and followed Meg and Puckett inside.
*
Mercer and Draper followed suit but Vinson stayed where he was. It would be better to work the night shift on his own and not with the boss, but it might not be so bad. Draper said he was going to do a half-shift and he’d be fetching dirt from the far side of the cut. That would leave plenty of time to grab a few nuggets out of the trap. Once he’d gone to bed, that would leave Vinson all alone with the plant. All alone with the nugget trap. He held the jar up to the light again and smiled. His nuggets were worth more than what was in this jar. His nuggets were almost worth as much as their total haul for the season.
Draper was right about not going home broke. The others might but he wouldn’t. He already had enough to pay back some of the more aggressive loans, so what he could mine himself now was money in the pocket. Might be enough to set him up again. Only next time he would be more careful about who he ringed cars for.
He got slowly to his feet and looked across the claim. He hadn’t told anyone about what had happened at the plant that night. Or about finding the skull in the mud. He’d lost a few nights of mining afterwards. He couldn’t quite shake off the horrible feeling the blackness had given off. The way it seemed to consume everything around it. The way the air smelled and the roar of the thunder. It had kept him awake for a few nights. And then thoughts about what the men would do to him when he couldn’t pay his debts started to come through too. The reality of that was far worse than some childish fright in the dark.
It hadn’t happened again anyway. God knew where the skull had ended up, if it had been there at all. But it certainly wasn’t in the camp.
The sound of laughter filtered through the wooden door. What did they have to be happy about in there? They weren’t making any money and would go home with only a few lousy bucks in their pockets.
Draper wasn’t all he was cracked up to be. If he was any good he would be making five times as much as he was now, and that would mean Vinson would be making five times as much too. No, the guy was just another big shot who thought he knew better than everyone else. He liked the sound of his own voice too much and whatever he said always sounded vaguely like an apology. He was no better than the thuggish money lenders. They always thought they knew what was best for you.
He pushed open the door and watched that moron Puckett trying to sound smart around the girl. The bitch who had cut him down when he was just getting started on Draper. Perhaps she did like Daddy after all.
It didn’t matter whether they all liked him or not. It didn’t matter whether they went home broke. What mattered was that he had his pockets stuffed full of gold.
“Any of that sloppy-joe left for me?” he asked, smiling.
16
Draper stood behind Meg. “Thanks for stepping in with Vinson.”
He’d watched her for about five minutes from his camper. She was getting ready to climb into the cab of her rock truck when he finally worked up enough courage to approach her. His heart was hammering in his chest, his words sounding false and shaky.
She stopped doing what she was doing but she didn’t turn around. He waited for a few awkward seconds then said, “Mercer tells me you’re doing well. Says you’re...”
“What do you want, Dad?” She still hadn’t turned around to face him. Her voice was bland but at least there was no aggressive tint to it. Her chestnut hair was tied back in a long ponytail. It was perfectly still too.
“Just to say thanks. The guys get a bit twitchy when we’re not making money.”
“They trust you,” she said and this time she turned around.
He nodded. “They’re good men, they know I’m trying.”
It had been several weeks since she had ripped into him in the Chicken RV park. In the early days on the claim, he could feel the animosity rising off her like steam. Maybe he was used to it but it didn’t feel like that anymore. It was a cold shoulder rather than anything more aggressive these days. Maybe Puckett or Flynn had put in a good word about him.
All of a sudden he was tongue-tied. This was the longest conversation they’d had in two years. All the rehearsed speeches he’d memorized, the apologies, the excuses and pleas just evaporated under her stare.
It seemed neither of them knew what to say because Meg was silent too.
“It’s hard,” she blurted out. “Being up here, working like this. It’s difficult.” She pointed at him and then back to herself. “And this, this is the hardest thing of all.”
He nodded but didn’t speak. If she wanted to talk, he was going to let her.
“You know what Mom said to me the day before she died?” It was a question but she wasn’t expecting an answer. “She told me you would look after me. She told me to call you. And I did. I called you every day for three weeks. I left you messages.”
He could see tears in her eyes. He felt them coming in his own eyes.
“Did you even listen to them, Dad?”
He shook his head. It was in the aftermath of Delta Junction, when his head felt like it had imploded. He didn’t speak for a month. To anyone.
“I’m kinda glad you didn’t because I’ve always asked myself how you could ignore the sound of my crying. How you could turn your back on me like that?”
“I didn’t know,” he muttered. “Your mom and I hadn’t spoken for months. She never told me she was ill. I was... I...”
“You should’ve told me. You should have told me about those men and Delta Junction. We could’ve been there for each other. We could’ve, Dad.”
“I was trying to protect you. I thought I was doing the right thing. I was a mess.” He wondered who had told her about Delta Junction? She might have heard rumors and gossip but neither Puckett, Flynn or Vinson were there. It was Mercer. It had to be. He was the only one on site who knew the truth.
She shrugged and sighed. Her face was flushed. She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes.
“I need to get to wo
rk.”
Draper watched her climb into the rock truck’s cab. He craned his neck to look up at her. She moved her fingers toward the ignition and stopped.
“I can understand why you do this, why you’ve spent so much of your life in places like this. It’s beautiful.”
He opened his mouth to speak but she started the truck. Its mighty engine would have drowned out all of his words. She drove away without looking back at him.
It was a start. She hadn’t bawled him out or tried to hit him with a wrench. She had just laid it out, told him how she felt. Not that he needed it spelling out, he’d been over and over it in his own head.
He hadn’t found out about Claire until six weeks after she died. Five weeks after she had been buried. Meg was right, he and Claire had not spoken for months. They were no longer involved in each other’s lives. That was just how it was. No bad feelings, just drifted further and further apart until they couldn’t see each other anymore.
He found out by chance when he heard some guys bad-mouthing him in a bar just outside of Dawson City. They called him all sorts of names, said he was a murderer, a psychopath and a cheat. They said they wouldn’t be surprised if he’d killed his wife, not the cancer. He just walked right up to the man with all the opinions and hit him in the face as hard as he could. The guy went down holding his broken nose but his friends gave Draper an almighty beating. He didn’t feel any of the punches or kicks that rained down on him. By then he was numb.
That was when he started making the calls to Meg. There were so many messages on his phone that he’d just deleted all of them. He didn’t want to listen to anyone talking about Briggs or Evans or Delta Junction. All he wanted to do was speak to Meg. And she ignored him, just like he had ignored her.
He walked away from where her truck had been just a few moments before. In those few seconds, listening to how badly he’d let her down, he wished he could be anywhere but there, anywhere but staring into her eyes as the tears welled and spilled down her cheeks. He didn’t know whether to go and find a dark corner and cry, or whoop with joy because his daughter had finally spoken to him again. It was confusing. Everything about life was complex and confusing. Everything except mining gold. That had never been confusing. Not until now anyway.