Deadly Lode (Trace Brandon Book 1) (9 page)

“
Thanks,
Henry
.
I really appreciate it.
And i
t will be good to see you again.
”

On the way into Winthrop
I
stopped at
a burger joint
on Highway 20. After eating the best burger I ever sank a tooth into, I headed to
the Chewak Construction
Company
yard
to meet with Bobby Malott. We
visited a few
minutes about security
,
and
then I hightailed it back to the mine.

The night crew was blowing and going
. A
long line of sample
s
bags were lined up near the
rig
. Nick Wetzel was the night
-
shift driller
, a
rosy
-
cheeked, heavy
-
set giant with a bald head and red mustache.

“
Hey, Nick,
”
I yelled
,
to be heard above the compressor
,
“
h
ow
’
s it going?
”

“
Damn good, Trace. We
should be just about to the
vein when the day
-
shift gets here.
”

“
Wow, that
’
s
great,
Nick. Any problem with groundwater?
”

“
Not yet
. S
amples are dry as
James Bond
’
s martini
.
”

I laughed
.
“
T
hat dry, huh
?
”

I
opened several of the sample bags and chec
ked
the lithology of the rock chips
. . . a
ll granodiorite. We were still drilling through the hanging wall
above the
vein.

I waved at Nick
to get his attention
. I
held up six fingers
,
then pointed to myself
. He nodded, understanding
I would be back at six in the morning. I wanted to get back to Winthrop,
work on my maps
,
and get
a good night
’
s sleep. We
’
d
start pulling core early tomorrow morning.

At 5:50
the next morning I pulled up to the mine, just behind Red and the day
-
shift crew.

“
Morning
,
Red
. . .
fellows,
”
I said, giving the crew a casual salute.

“
Morning your own
self
,
”
Red replied
,
with
the
wave of
a
hand big enough to shag fly balls.

Red and I walked over to the drill
,
and I checked the latest samples blowing up the hole.

“
How deep are we
,
Nick?
”
I yelled.

“
Two ninety
-
five, Trace.
”

“
Okay, that
’
s far enough with the hammer.
Pull
out
,
and let
’
s start coring. We should be about five feet from the vein.
”

Nick
’
s crew
pulled the drill rods
and hammer bit
out of the hole
,
and turned t
he
rig ove
r
to
Red
,
and
the day shift.

The night crew shoved off
while
Red
’
s crew
set up the wire
-
line cor
ing
system
.
With a wire
-
line system
,
we would be able to pull
liners from inside the
core
barrel
without
pulling the drill pipe
out of the hole.
R
ecover
ed
core
from
inside
the liners w
ould be
place
d into
divided wooden
-
core boxes. Each core box held twenty feet of core in five
-
four
-
foot sections.
Markers indicating depths
were
inserted at the top and bottom of each section of core
.

Once the core was boxed,
I
measure
d
it to determine how much core we
had
recovered. Next, I describe
d
the
rock type
,
not
ing
any
mineralization o
r
alteration.
And, finally,
I
photographed
the cores
to document our work
,
and
for
future
P
ower
P
oint presentations.

“
We
’
re ready, Trace,
”
Red
said
.

“
Okay, Red, let
’
er rip,
”
I
replied
.

We cut five feet of core the first run, putting us at three hundred feet. I looked at the bottom
section
of the core and could see traces of pyrite and other sulfides.

“
Red, we
’
re right on the vein.
”

Red gave me a thumbs
-
up and ran a liner back down the drill pipe.

It took about
an hour
to cut the next five feet. When we pulled the liner and laid the core in the
b
ox, Red whistled.

“
Holy shit, Trace,
”
Red
said
. I
t
’
s almost pure sulfides.
”

I
took my rock hammer and
broke
off
about a six
-
inch section of the core and looked at it with my ten
-
power hand lens
.

“
Yeah, it
’
s damned good, Red.
”

Red and I saw the
flash of light
at the same instant.

“
Our little
P
eeping
T
om is back,
”
Red said, lifting his eyes to
the mo
untain
behind us
.

“
I s
aw
it, Red. Nothing we can do about it. There
’
s no law against watching us core.
”

The next
five
cores all cut nearly pure sulfides with just trace
s
of
vein
quartz. On the
eighth
run
,
we cut two
more
feet of ore and then were into
the footwall
metamorphic
schist.

Red shook his head
.
“
Jesus, Trace, we
’
ve
cut thirty
-
two feet of mineralization.
”

I
nodded
.
“
T
rue thickness will be a tad little less as we cut the vein at an angle.
”

“
True enough,
”
Red replied
,
“
b
ut it
’
s still one hell of a vein.
”

“
Isn
’
t she though,
”
I said, looking at the last section of core.
“
Red, we
’
re three feet
into the footwall
. Deep enough on this one.
Go ahead and trip out
,
and
let
’
s
plug the hole.
”

While Red and the crew pulled the drill rods and core barrel out of the hole, I examined the core in more detail. The ore looked to be comprised of copper, pyrite
,
and pitchblende. I ran my pocket Geiger counter down the length of several core
s
.

I looked over at Red
,
who was watching me with
some
interest.

“
Red, tell any of the crew that handled the core to be sure and wash their hands before the
y
eat
,
or light up.
”

“
Hot?
”
Red asked.

“
En llamas
,
”
I replied
, nodding
. "Very, very, hot rock."

Red and his crew pull
ed
out of the hole and
prepared to
cement it from top to bottom. The night
-
shift would
likely show up just in time to move the ri
g to the second
drilling
location
and start drilling.
It
l
ooked like Red
’
s crew
would be doing the coring on the second hole too. Luck of the draw.

We
’
d cored forty feet with nearly
100
percent recovery. The core was neatly packed in two wooden boxes, twenty feet of core in each box.
Luke and
I secured the boxes in the back of my Bronco
, and
I
went over to say good
-
bye to Red
and the rest of his crew.

“
Super job
,
fellas,
”
I said
.
“
N
early one hundred percent recovery
—
damned good work.
”

“
Looks like w
e
’
ll
be doing
the coring on number two as well,
”
Red replied.

“
My thoughts exactly
. P
oor old Nick is getting stuck with the noisy, dusty
,
hammer
drill bit
again.
”

Red and the crew laughed.

“
Be careful hauling the core down to Winthrop,
”
Red said
.
“
We don
’
t want to have to re
-
drill this son of a bitch.
”

“
Don
’
t worry
. L
uke and I will have
this core in Bobby
’
s warehouse and be sipping a cold
brew
before
you can say
,
'
Jack Dempsey.
'
”