The Gold Miner's Wife: A Young Woman's Story of Romance, Passion and Murder (13 page)

             
“Nothing about this nasty business has been logical.  Your interview with Miss Dempsey was very worthwhile.  It has filled in some of the gaps.  That is good progress, Cookson,” said Jack, “but disturbing all the same.”

             
“This is a very dangerous situation,” warned Cookson.  “We are dealing with cold blooded murderers,” he said.  “Time to circle the wagons, I think.”

             
There was an edge of steel beneath his words.  Jack was quite shaken by what he had learned.  Until this interview, he had wanted to believe it had all been a very tragic accident.  But Jade’s statement had erased any doubt.  It was premeditated murder.  His first thought was of Susannah.  Was she in danger?  He would be taking her around to visit the mine on Thursday, was this plan ill timed?  He was inclined to visit his gunsmith and order a derringer for her but quickly dismissed the idea.  She was a gently-bred lady, an innocent.  He would never be able to convince her of her vulnerability and she would never acquire the will to use it.

Autumn is the time when Mother Nature puts on her most dazzling show in the Colorado high country.  To begin with, the magnificent display of contrasting colors makes for an inordinately spectacular landscape.  The quaking aspens turn golden; their round, glittery leaves shimmer like coins in the soft, sunny breeze.  When the leaves descend, the forest floor is carpeted with a solid layer of gold.  The scrub oak are tinged with orange and red; the leaves of wild roses are imbued with a rusty hue.  It is a panorama that is wild, dynamic, charming, and vibrant.  It is a raw, seductive landscape with a vastness that stirs the blood.

              The frenzied activity among much of the wildlife one observes in autumn is another part of this show, and foreshadows the significant changes to come.  The mammals gain weight; their pelts grow thick and dense.  The Big Horn rams, Mule Deer bucks and Elk bulls all exhaust themselves in battle to win the favor of recalcitrant females.   Black bears step up the amount of time they spend foraging to twenty hours per day, gobbling up everything from chokecherries to oak acorns, from white bark pine nuts to buffalo berries to ants, beetles and grubs.  By the end of October they must be in their dens and will not emerge from hibernation until the following April.  A bear seen wandering about in November is a bear in serious trouble.

             
The migratory birds beat a hasty retreat to warmer climes.  Among them, the tiny hummingbirds, having spent a peaceful summer nesting near the lush alpine meadows abundant with wildflowers.  Their utopian domain had already been severely disrupted in August with the arrival of those notorious bullies, the rufous species of their kind.  The rufous, while only resting as they pass through the area on a migratory path, lay claim to patches of flowers, and possessively deny all competitors who would deign to filch their nectar.  The phoebes and flycatchers, meadowlarks and orioles, robins and kingbirds and other avian forest dwellers want no part of winter and head south.

             
Against the backdrop of fragrant conifers and fall foliage at its pinnacle, the heavy steam locomotive puffed along, heading uphill from Denver on its way to the depot outside Pine Creek.  Jack had called on Susannah at 9:00 a.m. as planned and by 10:30 they were in the high country.  It was an overcast, unpromising day, and a bit cool.  The train twisted and turned at each curved switchback in its slow, steady climb.  There were a few sections where the track was doubled into a spur to accommodate traffic from the opposite direction.  The train would stop, the switchman would jump down and quickly crank the handle to move the track into its proper position.  Susannah was thoroughly absorbed with gazing out the window, appreciatively surveying each mile of the passing landscape.  Jack was seated nearby, heartened that she was so thoroughly enjoying herself.  Even dressed in black she was a vision of loveliness: delicate, feminine, soft, sweet.

             
“I think you approve of the scenery,” Jack said.

             
“Oh, yes.  How many times in your life will you see a remarkable landscape such as this?  It is unsurpassed,” she replied.  It was true.  The scenery
was
unsurpassed.  But as they drew closer to Pine Creek, her apprehension grew.  It had been two months.  Very soon she would be visiting the place where her husband died two months ago.

             
The train slowed, the whistle sounded followed by the loud squeak of wheels grinding against the heavy rails as they rumbled to a stop.  “And here we are,” said Jack.  Susannah pulled on her gloves and picked up her parasol.  Jack assisted her with her wrapper and helped her step from the train.  They quickly located Mr. Trentham who was there with the buggy to meet them.

             
Trentham stepped forward.  “Right on time!” he said with a grin.

             
“Thank you for meeting us, Trentham,” said Jack.  “You know Mrs. Sprague.”

             
“Hello again, Mrs. Sprague,” Trentham greeted her politely.  She was a young widow.  What had happened to her, to all of them, was awful and he was having trouble knowing what to say.  “Did you enjoy the ride up?”

             
“Yes, very much.  The aspens are at the peak of their color, I believe,” she replied, putting on a cheerful countenance.  They piled into the buggy for the short journey to the mining camp.  It was a distance of about four miles and the horse was set to a walk due to the rutted condition of the gravel road.  The air was brisk and there were now more clouds than sun.  Susannah pulled her wrap around her more securely.  The air was chilly and the prospect of visiting the place where her husband died, a chilling one.  But Jack had carefully mapped out a full day for Susannah, wanting her to gain the most from her visit as the mine’s co-owner, and he drew her attention away from the anxieties she struggled to keep hidden in the recesses of her mind. 

             
The busy camp was like a beehive abuzz with activity; some men could be seen moving ore to the stamp mill, one man was refilling oil wick lamps, another was hitching a fresh team of mules, and a great deal of banging and clanging was going on everywhere.

             
“You will tell me if I become tedious,” said Jack.  He offered her his arm to steady her as they walked on uneven ground.  She placed her hand on his sleeve, his arm was warm, solid, rock hard, and disquieting. 

             
“I am here to learn,” she answered evenly.

             
He began by reintroducing her to many of the men.  Susannah was not unknown to most of them and quite a few had attended the funeral.  All the same, her visits to the camp had been rare so she was not well acquainted with the miners.  Next, Jack directed her to the bunkhouse to inspect the sleeping accommodations for the men.  This was quickly followed by a glimpse of the washhouse. 

The cabin used as the camp’s business office was next.  A small porch sheltered a pile of wood stacked next to the door.  The interior walls were clad in pine planks which Jack selected himself.  It had grown chilly inside.  The feet of the wood stove rested on sturdy bricks; the wall behind the stove was covered with a sheet of molded tin with a fleur-de-lis pattern.  Jack offered Susannah a comfortable seat and revived the fire in the stove.  She had visited the mining office briefly on other occasions, but it never really mattered to her until now.  It was almost as though
she was viewing her surroundings for the first time.  It was sparse but functional: a desk with an oil lamp, a heavy wooden cabinet that was securely locked, a cot with a neatly folded blanket on top.  There was also a bookcase which displayed many heavy tomes about geology and hard rock mining.  When the fire in the stove came roaring back to life, Jack made fresh coffee for them both and then launched into an explanation of the ordering system used for procuring supplies.  This was followed by a detailed description of
tonnage
and how wages were calculated for the miners.  He unlocked the heavy wooden cabinet to reveal the safe.  Jack invited Susannah to examine its contents, including deeds and other legal documents, inspection reports, financial records and cash to meet the payroll.

             
Jack had kept Susannah so engrossed that it was well past lunch time when they made their way to the cabin of the camp’s cook.  Susannah knew Mr. Brown; he had been the camp’s cook back when she was yet Miss Carlyle.  He was still on the job, serving up hardy meals for hungry workers three times per day.  Susannah greeted him warmly.

             
“How are you Mr. Brown?  Still working hard I see.  I believe yours is the most important job of anyone here,” she complimented him.

             
“It is nice that you think so ma’am,” he said with a smile.  “Keeping everyone fed is a bit of a challenge,” he admitted.  “Would you be interested in some chicken soup and cornbread?” he asked.

             
Her stomach rumbled appreciatively.  “Hot soup sounds lovely,” she said.  “The weather seems to have a bit of an edge today.”

             
Most of the miners had finished their meal leaving Susannah and Jack to themselves for an agreeable repast.  Jack helped her remove her wrap and offered her a seat at the long wooden table. 

             
“What do you think so far?” he asked.

             
“I think you know your business very well,” she observed, “and the men certainly like you.”  A smile crept over his face.  What she thought of him had begun to matter.  “It is a lot to take in,” she added.  “I am the proverbial fish trying to swim upstream.”

             
“This business is not something you learn overnight.  Back in the office there are a number of books on mining techniques.  You may wish to look through them and select one to take home with you,” he suggested.

             
“Some light, bedtime reading Jack?”

             
“I always read mining treatises before I go to bed,” he had the nerve to say.  That earned him a smile.  He was on the precipice of a slippery slope.

             
“You have thrown down the gauntlet,” she said.  “I will be forced to read a mining book now or never live it down!”

             
Soon their meal was finished.  “Are you ready to see the stamping mill?” Jack suggested.

             
“Yes, alright,” she said as she stood.  Susannah collected her wrap and walked over to Mr. Brown.  “We must be going now,” she told him.  “There is more to see!  Your soup was delicious.  It has revived me.”

             
“Thank you, Mrs. Sprague.  I am glad you liked it.  I hope you have a pleasant journey back to Denver,” he said kindly.

             
Jack and Susannah made their way to the stamping mill, he offered her his arm again.  She dispensed with the lace parasol as it was not of much use on a cloudy day.  For the next hour Jack and Mr. Trentham described the mechanics of the new stamping mill and demonstrated how it worked.  It was set up along Dry Gulch as it was powered by a water wheel.  “It’s the best ore-bustin machine I’ve ever seen,” Trentham said enthusiastically.  The Cornish Stamp, which featured raised cams on a rotating axle, was used to crush the rock into much smaller lumps.  The crushed rock was then ready for further processing of metallic ores.               

It was mid-afternoon before the tour was finally concluded and Jack felt confident he had given Susannah a thorough overview of the entire operation.  Susannah was appreciative of Jack’s efforts to educate her about their shared enterprise.  His planning had resulted in a very satisfactory day during which she had learned a great deal.  She thought it ironic that the tour covered the entire camp and all the buildings within the camp, but excluded the actual mine itself.  It was not necessary for her to venture inside the mine Jack had said.  It was dangerous, and what could she hope to learn that she did not already know about?  She was grateful, perhaps even relieved.  The inside of the Five Nuggets Mine was not a place she would ever wish to visit. 

Although the clouds seemed to be thickening, Jack suggested there was a bit more time before they needed to meet the five o’clock train.  He offered to take Susannah on a short buggy ride to the nearby meadow as she had previously spent many enjoyable hours there with her sketch pad.  With the snow-capped peaks in the background, the scenery was especially lovely at this time of year.  Susannah could not turn down a chance to glimpse the charming, wild landscape and soon they found themselves traveling beside the creek bank, thickly stocked with coarse grass and dense shrubbery of cottonwood and quaking ash.  They followed the gravel road for about forty five minutes at a leisurely pace and selected a picturesque spot to rest the horse. 

             
It soon became apparent that Susannah’s half boots were inadequate for navigating the rigorous terrain.  So from their vantage point on the road, Jack shared a number of things about the flora and fauna of the area that were of particular interest.  On the side of one mountain, he pointed to the evidence of scarring from a recent
blow down
, in which extremely high winds had blown over a whole section of trees like so many cascading dominoes.  On another distant mountainside, he explained how the golden aspens would eventually be crowded out by the evergreens.  Almost without their noticing it, the heavy clouds that had hovered above the mountaintops soon descended into the valley, the temperature dropped a few more degrees, and snowflakes swirled around them.  Mother Nature was certainly running the show.

             
“Time to go, I think,” he said.  He held out his hand to her, the perfect gentleman.  “Come,” he told her as they hurried to the buggy.  “I should never have brought you here on a day like this,” he lamented.  “It was too risky.”

             
“I wanted to come here,” she protested.  “And I am glad I did.”

             
He turned the buggy around.  “Are you warm enough?” he asked as they started down the road.

             
Her gloves and wrapper were some protection from the elements, but she would not add to his worries.  “We will be back at the camp soon enough,” was her reply.