The Gold Miner's Wife: A Young Woman's Story of Romance, Passion and Murder (7 page)

             
It was late when a great pounding on the mansion door awakened them all.  Jack stepped into the foyer, his hair was wild and his eyes were bloodshot, he had mud on his clothes, his jacket was torn and his lips were colorless.  Dr. Reed was with him.  Something bad had happened.  Susannah stood there in the lamplight with Catori and Mrs. Sheppard, Edward and Charlotte when Jack spoke the words she feared most. 

             
“Thomas is dead,” Jack said without preamble.  She gaped at him, looked at him in disbelief, wondering if perhaps she had misheard.  The raw words stung, like a slap to the face.  “There was an unexpected explosion at the mine this afternoon.  Thomas was working close to it.  He and one other lost their lives.  We are investigating, trying to piece together what happened.  I am so very sorry.”

             
The words were sinking in, tears flooded Susannah’s eyes and slipped down her cheeks.  She was incapable of speech.  Catori embraced her, held her friend close, while they both wept.  Jack’s heart clenched.  Charlotte and Mrs. Sheppard were also crying, but Edward Mansfield had questions.

             
“How could this happen?” he asked sharply.  “You were supposed to take precautions.  Where were
you
?” he continued, his tone accusatory.

             
“Not now, Mansfield,” Jack said tightly.  “All of us who loved Thomas, especially Susannah, deserve answers.  We
will
have our answers, but not tonight.”

             
But Mansfield would not be gainsaid.  “You barge in here with news like that and cannot tell us why?” he said angrily.

             
“Right now we all have more questions than answers.  There will be a thorough investigation, of that you can be sure,” said Jack.

             
Dr. Reed stepped forward.  “Now is not the time for this discussion, gentlemen,” he said sternly, calling a halt to their bickering.  Susannah was now sobbing hysterically.  She was battered by the news.  She wanted to scream, but there would be no point.  Nothing would ever be the same.  Like Edward, she wanted to know more, but her mind was spinning.   It was too much to bear.  Dr. Reed gently took her elbow and with Catori’s help, and aided by Charlotte Mansfield, guided her away.  A haze of silence settled over them.

             
Jack turned to Mrs. Sheppard.  “Dr. Reed will see to Susannah.  There is nothing more to be done tonight.  I must deliver the terrible news to the other family who also lost a loved one today.  I promise to return first thing in the morning.   If you need anything at all,
anything
, you know where to find me,” he said reassuringly. 

             
“Of course, Mr. Simmons,” she replied.

             
“The days ahead will be impossibly difficult for everyone.  We must all try to help Susannah get through this, even as we deal with our own personal grief.  We all lost a very good man today, a good friend,” Jack said thoughtfully.

             
“We can handle it from here, Simmons,” said Mansfield in a surprisingly clipped tone.  “Charlotte and I have known Susannah and her family for many years,” he said with an air of supreme self-confidence.  “She is like family to us and we will help our dear friend through this crisis.”

             
Jack gave no reply.  Had he possessed a more suspicious nature, he might have wondered at Mansfield’s unemotional reaction, almost as though he was prepared for such an unexpected tragedy.  Mansfield seemed to be spoiling for a fight.  What was his game?  But Jack would not give him the fight he was looking for on this night.  Ignoring Mansfield he said, “I will call again tomorrow, Mrs. Sheppard.”  And then he left.

             
Once in her bedchamber, Dr. Reed spoke with Susannah at length.  He counseled her like a father would, offered comfort, was kind, steady, helpful, but her tears kept him off balance.  He insisted that there had to be some perfectly sound explanation, but to Susannah, what did it matter?  Thomas, her love, was gone and her world was tilting sideways.  Her life had unraveled.  He was not coming back.  He would no longer hang his black Stetson on the peg in their foyer.  There would be no more days spent exploring lush alpine meadows for the most perfect spot for sketching.  There would be no more lovely, clear nights spent counting the shooting stars.  Eventually, there was nothing left to talk about.  Misery and exhaustion claimed her.  The laudanum blotted out the pain.  The last thing she remembered was Catori covering her with her serape.

             
Catori had slept in a chair near Susannah’s bed throughout the night, keeping vigil over her friend, wanting to be nearby if she was needed.  At first light, she went outdoors and gathered some juniper branches.  It had been a very long time since she had performed the ritual.  She arranged a few branches into a pile on the graveled area behind the carriage house, then lit them.  Catori sat close to the fragrant juniper fire and chanted the words of her ancestors over and over.  The cleansing smoke bath was intended to purify her soul and the souls of those she loved.  She loved Thomas as a brother.  The journey of his spirit to the next world must not be hindered.  She remained seated there, chanting the words, until the last embers died out and the sun brought forth a new day.  As she made her way from behind the carriage house, she was quite surprised as she glimpsed Mr. Brophy slipping inside the back door of the mansion.  He unceremoniously shoved Fluffy Lucero away from the door with his boot.  Wherever he had been all these days, he had returned now, and she thought the timing of his activities most curious.  Before the sun would set that day, he would be observed leaving again, this time nicely dressed and carrying a suitcase.

             
By afternoon, Susannah was up and dressed and seated in the parlor.  She looked pale and the severe black dress made her complexion more ghostly.  Her eyes were red and swollen, she fidgeted nervously with her lace handkerchief.  She looked weary.  Susannah mostly listened as Edward and Charlotte offered suggestions for the funeral arrangements.  Her minister, Reverend Fineran, was there also and led them all in a quiet prayer.  As they talked, she felt a painful lump in her throat and knew that at any moment she might lose the one fragile thread of composure she had left.  So she allowed herself to be carried along with the tide, saying very little, nodding in silent agreement when it was necessary. 

             
Jack was seated near Susannah and watched her with growing admiration.  She was dignified, serene, as she allowed the others to guide her through the many decisions.  Jack knew there had to be a very public church service, everyone expected it.  But he had serious doubts about Mansfield’s genuine sincerity in helping to arrange it.  Something told him the man was guilty of false piety and he was putting on a very good show, listening to Susannah’s comments with all the patience of a parish priest.  Going to church didn’t make you a Christian any more than standing in a barn made you a horse.  Jack ached to gather Susannah into the warmth of his arms and tell her that her broken heart would mend.  But it was too soon.  She would only hear empty words of hopeful optimism.  As she sat there, staring ahead blankly, she wondered if Thomas had known how much she loved him and she wondered how she would carry on without ever seeing him again.

             
News of the accident travelled quickly through the city, even before the notices were published.  The next couple of days brought many well-meaning callers wanting to pay their respects.  The Purfield’s were among the first to visit and express their most heartfelt sorrow.  It was the Purfield’s after all, who, it could be argued, were largely responsible for the chance meeting between Susannah and Thomas.  As their romantic relationship had blossomed, the Purfield’s carefully watched over them as chaperones would.  Ella Purfield was so overcome with emotion she did little to aid Susannah in her grief.  Professor Purfield soon removed his wife to their home so that she could rest and recover herself. 

While Edward Mansfield threw himself into the arrangements, it was Jack who steadfastly remained by Susannah’s side, untiring in his commitment to share some of her awful burden and see her through the crisis.  At the funeral, while Mansfield fussed about the placement of the flowers and the selection of the hymns, it was Jack who offered up the eulogy.  He remembered his friend’s spirit of adventure, his perseverance, his antics, his honesty and excellence in all he did.  After the service, when so many mourners descended on the house, it was Jack who shielded Susannah from those who would strain her already fragile emotional state with lengthy interviews.  He had observed how steady she appeared throughout the ordeal.  Now he noticed when she squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, as if summoning some inner strength to continue.  For Susannah, the room suddenly seemed to be full of intruders; her throat ached with unshed tears.  It was Jack who intervened.  Placing his strong hand on her shoulder, he escorted her from the parlor.

              “I think you have endured enough, Susannah,” he said kindly.

             
“Perhaps.  But those who have come to pay their respects are also mourning Thomas.  I must accept their condolences for his sake,” was her knowing response.

             
“We all mourn in our own way, Susannah,” Jack replied.  “There are others here who will see to your guests.  I knew Thomas, and he would not want you to break down under the heavy burden of so much stress.”

             
“Tell me something you knew of Thomas,” she asked, surprising him.  “Anything.”

             
“After you married, you can understand that I was not interested in long conversations about wedded bliss, but I heard so many times from Thomas how much he loved you.  Your love, bestowed on him, was what he lived for.  You changed his life.”

             
Jack’s words washed over her like a warm caress.  “Thank you for that,” she breathed, giving him a half smile.

             
“You must always remember, Susannah that Thomas was my friend too,” he said with feeling.  “I must leave you now,” he added.  “There is another grieving family expecting me today.  We also lost Heinz Schultz in this tragedy.  He and his wife and child emigrated only a year ago from Germany.”

             
“I must do something for them,” said Susannah as Jack turned to go.

             
“I know you will, Susannah,” he said.

             
As the last vestiges of the day etched their vibrant colors upon the deepening splendor of an indigo sky, Susannah was in her bedroom, with Catori helping her.  Susannah was grateful for her company.  Catori possessed an aura of calm, an inner peace.  She was suffused with serenity and abiding tranquility.

             
“How do the Navajo mourn their loved ones?” she asked.

             
“Among my people, when a loved one passes, those left behind must help the spirit continue its journey.  There is not much crying,” Catori explained.  “We believe that showing too many emotions will hinder the journey of the spirit to the next world.”

             
“Do you think I am wrong to want Thomas’ spirit to remain with me, in here,” Susannah asked with her hand over her heart. 

             
“I don’t have any special wisdom,” she replied.  “But surely you must know in your heart that you could not have been more loved or more worshipped or adored than you were by Thomas.”

             
A few days following the funeral, Jack returned to the Five Nuggets Mine.  He was most anxious to interview the men and learn all he could about events leading up to the deadly explosion.  Jack had doubts, was not convinced it was an accident, wanted answers, and worried that the passage of too much time would compromise an investigation and reduce his chances of getting to the truth.  He had remained in Denver as long as he could, wanting to lend his support to Susannah.  She was emotionally spent, adrift, and fragile.  However she had Catori and Mrs. Sheppard as well as her friends the Purfields and the Mansfields close by to assist her.  He promised to return again as soon as possible.

             
With Jack gone, Edward Mansfield stood in the Sprague’s dining room and swallowed another hefty swig of brandy.  He felt the liquid burn, like fire, from his throat all the way down to his belly.  He was pleased with the progress made thus far.  He was rid of Simmons for now. Mr. Brophy was on his way home to England.  Susannah was now a wealthy widow, even wealthier than she had been as Miss Carlyle.  Mansfield was living as a guest in her home and his daily interaction with Susannah aided his cause immensely.  Although propriety called for him to remove himself soon to avoid any hint of scandal, Mansfield devoted his energy to building her trust.  Because his sister Charlotte was there as well, he had a bit more time to delay his departure.   He capitalized on every opportunity to offer Susannah advice and he preyed on her grief-stricken condition to become her confidant.  Mansfield created a situation in which he would play the champion and he played his part with conviction.  By his steady influence, he would win her by using logic and reason.

             
On this day the solicitor was to call on Susannah to dispense with the formal reading of Thomas’ will.  As Edward might have predicted, Susannah asked him to be present.  She was coming to rely on him more and more.

             
Catori showed Milton Becker, Esq. into the study where Susannah and Edward were waiting and closed the door to give them privacy.  Susannah had met Mr. Becker before.  He was middle aged, and balding with silvery grey hair and white bushy eyebrows.  He wore spectacles and was pleasant, but after introductions were made, he got right down to business.  There was nothing about this meeting that surprised Susannah.  She and Thomas had discussed his wishes when the will was prepared.  Thomas made some financial provisions for his mother and sisters in Ohio and left the house, his worldly possessions and his half interest in the Five Nuggets Mine to Susannah.

             
It was the thought of the daunting responsibility of being co-owner of the mine which troubled Susannah greatly.  She had no notion of how to be an equal partner in such a venture and therefore had many legal questions for Mr. Becker.  Mansfield sensed that Susannah might be inclined to dispose of her half by selling it, probably at some ridiculously low figure, to Jack Simmons.  He would do everything he could to kill that baby in its crib.  As the discussion between Susannah and Mr. Becker continued, Mansfield spoke up.

             
“If I may,” he interrupted, clearing his throat, “I believe, Susannah, that your financial decision about what to do with your half interest in the mine is a weighty one.  You must carefully consider all of your options.  Whatever decision you reach must not be made in haste.  Might I suggest that a good starting point would be to review the account books?  You might hire a professional bookkeeper to examine the ledgers.  This way you can determine if the investment is sound.  It may be a way forward.”

             
“An excellent suggestion, Mansfield,” Becker chirped.

             
As always, she could count on her friend Edward to give sound advice, but Susannah was not bolstered by their enthusiasm.  She was weary and she did not know if she was up to the task.  This was not what she wanted, in fact she didn’t want any of it.  How she longed to return to her formerly happy life and all that was familiar.  Susannah looked down at her left hand.  She now wore a memorial ring where her wedding band had been.  Her face clouded and tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision.

             
“Why don’t you think on it,” said Mr. Becker gently, sensing her distress.

             
“Yes, Susannah,” echoed Mansfield.  “There is no rush.  If you would like, I can help you with whatever you decide.”  And that was where they all agreed to leave the topic for now.

             
With so many tasks before him, Jack decided it would be best to address what
he
viewed as his lesser problem first – that of the serious accusations made by Madam Delilah.  It was shortly after his return to the Five Nuggets when he called on her in Pine Creek. 

             
“Son of a gun,” Madam Delilah thought to herself, seeing Jack through the parlor window as he approached on horseback.  “Good afternoon, Mr. Simmons,” she said pleasantly when she answered the knock on the door. 

             
“Good day, Delilah,” he said.  “I have only today returned from Denver and thought it important that we finish our conversation from last week.  Is now a good time,” he asked?

             
“Yes, please, won’t you come in,” she replied, holding the door open.  She led him to the parlor and offered him a comfortable seat in a blue damask wing chair.  The room was tastefully decorated, not at all what he expected to find in a bawdy house.  When she offered him a glass of brandy, he recognized an olive branch when he saw it.

             
“I am here to listen to what you have to say,” he told her, his tone conciliatory.  “Also, I have information to share with you.”

             
“Well thank you for taking me seriously.  There are some who would not,” she replied honestly.  “And I am very sorry about what happened at the mine, and the loss of life.  Everyone must be taking it hard.  You have my condolences.”

             
“Thank you,” he answered.  “The events of last week, well, it was a shock.  Thomas Sprague was a good man, a solid friend, and a trusted business partner.  We are all devastated, most especially, his widow, an English woman.  I don’t know what she will do now.  We are to conduct a thorough investigation into the events of that day.  I have news that will interest you.  One of my managers informed me that the man you spoke of, Mr. Brophy, did work very briefly at the Five Nuggets, but disappeared mysteriously the day of the accident.  He was employed with us for only six days.  By all accounts, he was a good worker.  But no one has seen him since the afternoon of the explosion.”

             
“Do you suppose he might have been a casualty of the explosion and is thus unaccounted for?” Delilah asked.

             
“Not likely,” was the answer.  “The brass check bearing his number was not hanging from the board at the mine entrance.  He evidently left and told no one.  Nor did he collect his final wages.”

             
“That is mysterious,” Delilah agreed.  “I, for one, am glad he is gone.  Jade is doing better.  She will recover physically, but she is undecided about remaining here.  Mr. Brophy was quite the brute.  A real sidewinder, that one was.  I think she fears it could happen again with another customer.”

             
“I will be talking more with the men about this Brophy fellow and will make it my business to try and track him down.  He must be brought to justice.”  Jack reached into his coat pocket and withdrew two slips of paper.  “In the meantime,” he continued, “please accept these as some small compensation for you and the young woman, Jade.  Perhaps this will help in her recovery as she decides what she wants to do, and you must be compensated for your trouble.”

             
“This is most generous of you, Mr. Simmons,” Delilah said, looking at the bank drafts.

             
“I want to make amends.  The best way to do that is to bring the scoundrel to justice.  After all, we were responsible for hiring the man in the first place.  It is not always easy to read people.  The mine manager who hired him was impressed with the fact that he was a diligent worker.  We do not make it a habit of involving ourselves in what our employees do with their time after hours. I am so sorry this happened and I hope it never happens again.”  It was generally true, what Jack had said about the managers leaving the mine employees to their own diversions after their shifts.  Exceptions had been made however, such as the day when a few of them thought to amuse themselves by firing six shooters on Main Street.

             
“The women who find themselves in this business have learned to be cautious.  However, one cannot always be prepared for every circumstance.  Jade had no notion that the man would turn violent.  As far as finding him, he may have decided his adventure here in the mountains not to his liking.  Who knows?  He may be halfway back to Ireland by now,” was her thoughtful observation. 

             
“We have had workers before who have not lasted long.  Sometimes the altitude gets them down.  But this is the first one who neglected to collect all of his wages.  It is very mysterious indeed,” said Jack.  “Well, I do not want to take up any more of your time.  If there are any further developments on this matter, I will let you know,” he added, as he stood up.

             
“You have been most considerate.  Thank you for settling this and for trying to help Jade.  She will always remember your kindness,” she said, as she accompanied him to the door.

             
In thinking about how to proceed with his investigation into the explosion, Jack decided to begin by reviewing what he knew.  The mining operation at the Five Nuggets was still in its early stages.  The mine had only been fully functioning for a few years.  Excavation of the shallow parts of the veins containing gold ore had not yet been exhausted and had been fairly easy to reach.  Because this was true, the intensity of the blast that had been so deadly was at odds with what was needed for excavation.  The charge that went off that day, to loosen gold ore near the surface, was much larger than required.  There was no doubt in Jack’s mind that the powerful blast was deliberate.  The questions remained, why had someone done this, how did they accomplish it, and who was responsible?

             
Miners who worked solely at moving ore were paid for each load, not for the hours they worked.  The mine managers would see that a miner’s tag went up with each load he extracted, thus giving him credit.  Eventually, the blasting would go deeper below the surface.  This would become more expensive for the mine owner who was trying to turn a profit.  And hard rock mining, as opposed to the easier surface mining, was always a more back-breaking challenge for the miners.  The three managers, Marroney, Jones and Trentham were trusted employees.  They had been with him from the beginning, as had quite a few of the miners.  There was a clear division of labor.  Some men only moved ore, others had the additional duty of drilling the holes to prepare for blasting.  Still others, after they had been properly trained, were in charge of setting the blasting caps.  On the day of the explosion, the men were working at their assigned tasks.  They were where they were supposed to be.

             
Several days of exhaustive interviews with everyone in the camp revealed only one unexpected bit of information.  The big Irishman, Mr. Flynn, had taken Mr. Brophy under his wing.  They both hailed from the same region in Ireland, County Tipperary, and had fond recollections of the area, memories in common to compare.  Thinking him to be a good worker and someone eager to learn more, he showed Brophy the proper technique for applying the hand-held auger used to drill the holes into the rock.  That was a couple of days before the devastating explosion.  And then, the day of the catastrophe, Brophy had mysteriously vanished into thin air.  Flynn was as surprised as anyone at Brophy’s abrupt departure.  Evidently they had less in common than Mr. Flynn had previously thought.  Jack had a great uneasiness about Brophy and his possible involvement.  But for now he seemed to have reached a dead end.  Maybe it was time to call in a private detective agency.