by CJ Quincy
The 777
(A Historical Fiction Novella)
Written by CJ Quincy
Edited by Erin Christian
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
THE 777
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Copyright © 2012 CJ Quincy. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
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The 777
Chapter I
Kenneth squinted as he tried to see the other workers in the dark mineshaft. Their faces were dark, smudged with soot, but he could feel them bustling around him as he dug. Slowly, one by one, he noticed that the resounding sounds of their picks began to lessen as they ceased their hard work. Kenneth wiped his brow and his eyes stung with sweat. Sensing the others' frustration, he called out to them, his thick Irish accent echoing throughout the mine.
“Anything?”
“Nothing!” The miners boomed, almost in unison.
“Timmy? Albert?” Kenneth scanned their faces, their slumped shoulders, but he could only see the whites of the eyes of the men closest to him, the rest of their features dissolving in the dark. “Damn it. Anyone?”
“Nothing!” He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder in consolation, and the clear voices that had resounded as one broke apart into errant grumbling.
Kenneth wiped the cool sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand. “All right, head to the top, everyone, and break for lunch.”
Albert inched toward Kenneth through the departing crowd. The dirt caking the ridges in his forehead made him look older than his mere 20 years.
“What’re you going to do, Kenneth?” Albert’s eyebrows furrowed.
Kenneth sighed and dread began to settle in his stomach, heavy as lead. “I’m going to go and tell Mr. Kingsley.”
“Oh, Mr. Kingsley.” Albert wrung his hands inside of his gloves. “He’s going to be upset.”
Kenneth clenched his teeth and began to exit the mine. “To say the least,” he mumbled under his breath.
*
Kenneth’s legs felt weak and sore after the hour and a half long train ride from Silverton to Durango, and relief washed over him as he stretched. However, no matter how good it felt to walk again, he couldn’t shake the leaden dread growing in his stomach.
A tall, wispy man escorted Kenneth through the cavernous halls of Mr. Kingsley’s mansion, and Kenneth felt out of place amongst the pristine and elaborate décor. When he passed a large, gilded mirror just before reaching Mr. Kingsley’s office, he lingered.
“Can I just check my face?” he asked the ghostly figure behind him. The man looked as if he would be toppled by a strong wind, and he only nodded.
Kenneth leaned in close, seeing his breath fog the glass in little puffs, and spat on his fingers. He smoothed his eyebrows and flattened his hair, anything to look as presentable as possible.
When he was finished, he stood straight, held his head high, and took in a deep breath before feebly knocking. For a moment he wasn’t even sure if Mr. Kingsley could have heard him.
“Come in.”
The silent escort had already turned to leave before Mr. Kingsley beckoned, and Kenneth gingerly opened the door and approached the massive oak desk where Kingsley loomed above stacks of paper.
The office was even more intimidating than the hall. Kingsley didn’t look up from his writing with his sterling silver-tipped pen, and for a moment Kenneth felt like a strange voyeur, a blotch on this immaculate painting of wealth.
“What do you want?” mumbled Mr. Kingsley.
“Um,” Kenneth shifted his weight from one foot to the other, “sir, we have a problem at the mine.”
“Problem?” Mr. Kingsley kept writing, but his voice turned hard, “What’s the problem? Did we run out of silver?”
Kenneth internally winced at the sarcasm lacing Mr. Kingsley’s last question.
“Well, um, actually, sir,” Kenneth’s mouth was dry, and he struggled to swallow, “we did.”
Mr. Kingsley dropped his pen to the desk with a clatter and balled his hands into fists. Kenneth’s chest tightened as he watched Mr. Kingsley’s bald spot disappear as he slowly raised his head. He forced himself to make eye contact.
“Excuse me?” Mr. Kingsley said.
“I believe the mine is spent, sir.”
“Spent?” Mr. Kingsley raised his voice ever so slightly. “We’ve just finished blasting two new shafts, and I thought we found a vein last month?”
Kenneth looked at his shoes. “Yes, sir, we did. But everything in that vein has been taken.”
“Take me to the mine.” Mr. Kingsley's voice was cold as steel. Kenneth's stomach lurched.
“But sir,” Kenneth felt his face flush and his ears throbbed with heat. “There's nothing to see.”
“Take me to the damn mine!” Mr. Kingsley boomed as he stood and slammed his fist into the desk in one smooth motion. Kenneth jumped at the sound and took a step back before slinking back toward the door.
*
Kenneth could hear the miners before he crested the hill with Mr. Kingsley. They sat in a large group, exuberantly talking and debating amongst themselves, but as the two men neared the group, Mr. Kingsley’s hard eyes and demeanor squelched any discussion. All at once they fell silent and followed Mr. Kingsley with apprehensive gazes. The tension crackled between them like lightning.
Kenneth was apprehensive, himself. He knew Mr. Kingsley wouldn’t understand their situation, but he had no idea how to explain? How do you tell a man who’s used to demanding what he wants that the earth simply can’t be forced to comply?
Kenneth’s tongue felt like a cotton ball as he followed Mr. Kingsley into the darkness of the mine. He stayed quiet, waiting on Mr. Kingsley to say anything, but Kingsley almost seemed to forget his presence. They just walked deeper and deeper in, and by the faint lights dangling from the crude walls, Kenneth could see Mr. Kingsley’s face contorted into a scowl.
Mr. Kingsley walked with his face to the wall, squinting at the chunks of rock and dirt as if accusing them of holding out. Kenneth made sure to walk a few feet behind him, taking comfort in shielding himself with darkness. However, every now and then Kenneth would jump when Kingsley snorted or harrumphed, bracing himself to scramble for answers he knew he couldn’t give.
Suddenly, Mr. Kingsley about-faced and shot past Kenneth, storming back out to d
aylight. Flustered and nauseated, Kenneth was surprised at how quickly Mr. Kingsley could move if he put his mind to it. When he stumbled out to the mine’s mouth, Kingsley had already started on the miners.
“Get to work! What the hell are you all doing?” Mr. Kingsley kicked pebbles and dirt in the direction of the sitting group, who protected their eyes with upraised arms. “Get back to work! Anyone who is not in that mine in 10 seconds will never work for me again!”
Kenneth stared at his feet, catching his breath a little, as the miners scrambled for their gear. The silent stillness that had preceded their emergence transformed into muttered cursing and the clanging of equipment while Kingsley let out a huff of indignant self-satisfaction.
“Sir,” pleaded Kenneth, “Sir, there is nothing they can do.” The last of the miners hustled into the mine, giving Kenneth a look of sympathy before vanishing past him. Kenneth turned his head to follow their exit, but was snapped back to Kingsley when he grabbed Kenneth by the shirt.
“There is plenty we can do!” Mr. Kingsley’s nose almost touched Kenneth’s, and Kenneth cringed at the warm smell of onion. “I’ll take the mine train to town at first light and get some blasters up here.”
Kenneth nodded. Kingsley wrenched his shirt even tighter, “Until then, you have those boys pick for silver until their goddamned arms fall off.” A little spittle flicked onto Kenneth’s cheeks. “I’ll be back tomorrow with the blasters.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Kingsley harrumphed again and let Kenneth go with a slight shove. As he walked away, he wiped his hand on a handkerchief he pulled from his jacket pocket.
Kenneth heaved a sigh, trying to calm the tempest that had started in his gut as he slunk back to the mine.
*
Penny had jumped at the chance to go with her uncle to see the blasting at the silver mine. Life was usually far too dull, and she was tired of being cloistered away doing needlework. Sometimes, she’d slip off to the nearest train station and just sit on a bench, watching the people pass her by, but more often than not she obeyed Uncle Kingsley and keep to herself.
As the mining train pulled into the station, she half-listened to her uncle bragging about his locomotive to the blasting crew foreman.
“You’re a man of quality, I can tell, and wouldn’t you say that this train looks the same as the day it was built?”
Penny didn’t have to turn and watch to know that the foreman couldn’t have cared less. She rang her hands in her floral skirt, anxious to arrive at the site.
“This beauty was built five years ago, in 1902. For five years it’s been hauling silver ore just for me, but does it look any worse for the wear?”
Penny was amused at the foreman’s silence.
“I’d say not! I put good money into this machine when I bought it from Baldwin, and I’m not about to let any investment of mine go to waste!”
Penny’s heart leapt when the train slowly chugged to a stop. Out the window she could see the miners waiting at the mouth of the mine, and her enthusiasm was met with the familiar dread of hearing their comments. She reminded herself that they were likely lonely and she stood out in her pristine, flowing skirt and tight bodice. However, as with every other time she’d joined her uncle on these types of trips, these reminders did little to quell her disgust.
When they exited the train she walked quickly, a bit ahead of her uncle and the blasting crew, and she overheard two miners resting on a rock wall.
“You think this blast will get us a full shaft?” The thinner of the two asked, surveying the dynamite, wire, and other blasting necessities being unloaded by the blasting crew.
The fat one rubbed his belly and licked his lips, “I've got a full shaft right now!”
Penny’s ears felt hot as she passed them, looking at her feet and concentrating more than necessary on keeping her skirt from dragging the ground.
“That's Kingsley's niece, mate.” Silent gratitude filled her, and she gave the thin miner a weak smile. His eyes were kind, shining out from a face covered in smudges.
“I love a good blasting day!” Kingsley boomed. Penny jumped a little; she hadn’t realized that he and his assistant, Thomas, were right behind her.
“Me, too, uncle.” Penny smiled as Kingsley lit his cigar. He was almost beaming, a rarity for him.
“Thomas, get Kenneth and find out when the blasting begins.” With a quick nod, Thomas was off and Kingsley checked his pocket watch.
A young train assistant brought out a small wooden table and two folding chairs. The assistant opened and arranged the chair to Mr. Kingsley, but Penny took and opened her own and sat down facing the blasts. When the assistant scurried into the train and returned with two bottles of soda, Penny thanked him warmly and pitied his hurried demeanor. It was too warm outside to run about so quickly, and she felt sweat forming among her curls and under her arms.
Just as she was about to get impatient, Kenneth approached their table.
“The blasting is about to begin, sir.”
Mr. Kingsley’s chest expanded with his pride. “Excellent.”
As her uncle began to ask her whether she’d had any potential suitors recently, Penny kept an eye on Kenneth over Mr. Kingsley’s shoulders. Through the swirling cigar smoke, she could see Kenneth trembling, and when the first blast shook the mountainside, he winced.
“How’s that, old boy!?” Mr. Kingsley turned to Kenneth and clapped his hands. “We’ll scare the silver out of there, yet!” Penny couldn’t believe how oblivious her uncle was to Kenneth’s discomfort, but then why should she be surprised? He seemed to spread it wherever he went.
*
After almost an hour of continuous blasts, Penny’s ears were ringing and her heart felt like it would pound straight through her chest. She was exhilarated, and she leaned forward, elbows on her knees, with a grin to anticipate each new explosion.
“Miss Penny, maybe you should take cover.” Kenneth leaned down and implored.
“Don't be silly, Kenny. You know I love these blasts.” Penny gave Kenneth’s arm a playful slap, but she was momentarily touched by his concern.
“Yes, I do…ever since Mr. Frederick left town three years ago, you've attended every blast.” Kenneth took a step backward.
Penny furrowed her brow, “Kenny, you know better than to say that name around me.”
The hardness she let creep into her voice made Kenneth wince as much as he did on the first blast. “My apologies, Miss Penny.”
Penny gave Kenneth a weak smile and then turned toward the blast with such fervor, it was as if she were looking through the mountain itself. Her eyes watered and her vision blurred as the blasting came to an abrupt end. All she had left was the shaking in her bones and the ringing in her ears.
Before turning back toward Kenneth and her uncle, Penny took a deep breath. An uncomfortable silence hung amongst the three, thick as the smoke from Kingsley’s cigar, until Mr. Kingsley spoke.
“Ok, Kenneth. Get your men up there, and don't have them come back down without a full carload of silver.”
“Yes, sir.” replied Kenneth, as he hustled back toward the other miners. Penny watched him go and clenched her hands together in her lap, silently praying for silver.
*
Kenneth watched Mr. Kingsley, Penny, and Thomas board the train as the miners hastily made their way back up the mountain. He hesitated before joining them, one by one the long train disappearing into the cavernous opening. Some of the miners dragged the butts of their picks across the down, and all of their shoulders were slumped, backs curved in defeat.
Although Kenneth wanted to try and raise their spirits, he knew better than anyone that the mine was a lost cause. For two full days he heaved his pick alongside them, listened to their cursing and was carried along by their collective desperation to find something, anything. However, precious little silver was to be found, and after hours on end of grueling work Kenneth arranged to board the mine train and relay the news to Mr. Kin
gsley.
Staring at his shaking hands, covered in dried blood and blisters, Kenneth thought about how he’d rather be in the mine hacking useless rock than on his way to Kingsley. He flinched at the departure whistle and stared out the window as the train began to chug forward, watching the land race him ever closer to an impossible conversation.
*
Kingsley loosened his tie and took a deep breath before responding to Thomas’ question.
“I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you again,” he paced in front of his office desk, “we are going to get every last damn shard of silver out of that mine before I give up on it. I don’t care if I have to go out there and dig it up with my bare hands!”
Thomas nodded and backed away toward the wall, “I’m sorry, sir. I just…”
A feeble knock on the door interrupted him. “Now, what?” Kingsley sighed. “Come in.”
At the sight of Kenneth’s worried eyes and pursed lips, Kingsley’s stomach sank.
“Excuse me, sir.” Kenneth took three small steps into the office, still leaving a vast expanse between himself and Kingsley’s desk.
“You’d better be here to tell me you found a load of silver.” Despite trying to retain a calm exterior, Kingsley clasped his hands behind his back and dug his fingernails into his palm.
Kenneth’s eyes locked onto the floor. “Nothing, sir. Nothing at all.” His voice waivered and contempt flared in Kingsley’s chest, burning like indigestion.
“Nothing?” Kinglsey whispered. “Nothing?” His voice rose to nearly a yell and both Thomas and Kenneth seemed to shrink into themselves. He chewed the inside of his cheek a moment before continuing. “After all of those blasts?”
“No, nothing, sir.”
Kingsley withdrew into himself for a moment. The worried faces of Thomas and Kenneth blurred behind the rage that engulfed him. He walked in a circle around his desk, each step an attempt to slowly smother the fire raging within. Kingsley stopped in front of Kenneth and stared directly into his eyes.