The Two Devils (2 page)

She was young and reasonably pretty for a girl back home, a knockout for anything I'd seen in Nevada. There were very few women there. “Uh, why are you here? Who are you?"

She smiled. She had a pretty smile. Her teeth were even clean. “I'm Ruth. Oh, I told you that. The fellas, they all think you're a virgin."

"What?” I realized there were noises outside and flung open the tent flap. A good forty miners were milling about. “What is this? A joke on poor old Miles?"

Ruth pulled me back inside. “No one's makin’ fun of you, Miles. The boys all chipped in."

I did not like the sound of that. “Chipped in?"

"For me,” she explained.

I still did not like the sound of that. “You're a...?"

"That's right.” She poked her head out the tent flap. “He is, and I'll be taking care of that right now. You all can leave now. You're scaring the poor boy.” She closed the flap and tackled me as I was trying to crawl out under the back of the tent. “No one's running out on me, Miles O'Malley.

I earn me money fair and true.” She began unbuttoning my trousers.

I tried to protest. “Now wait a second."

"Well, most men enjoy me once they try me, Miles."

She was right about that. The experience proved to be far nicer than my fantasies. Ruth was amazingly responsive and made me feel strong instead of the weak little toad I knew I was. She didn't leave right after we'd finished. Having a warm woman to cuddle with had changed my perception of tent life.

But, suddenly, that warmth vanished. I sat up to discover there wasn't anyone else in the tent. I stuck my head out and saw Ruth walking away, sort of vacant. I could swear she was whispering “Peter,” but was uncertain due to the distance. By the time I got my drawers and boots on, she was nowhere to be seen. I headed out on foot in the direction she'd been going—out of camp and around to the very rugged far side of the mountain. I'd only made it a hundred yards when a firm hand grabbed me by the shoulder.

"You ain't running out on me,” Roy said. “It's time to start breakfast."

"No, it's not that,” I protested as Roy dragged me back to the cooking area.

Lunch brought news of a strike in the new tunnel. There was also news that blasting for that same tunnel had busted open an underground cavern. There was plenty of curiosity, but no one had time to explore the cavern, as the new gold vein was much deeper inside the mountain.

Supper brought even more news. The miners had now decided the tunnel was haunted. Curly, a bald miner with bad teeth, had disappeared.

There were many reports of bats, and even one ghost sighting. The miners grumbled, some even suggested a strike, but that talk soon faded as their mouths filled with steak and potatoes.

The next morning was Sunday, and, after breakfast, I had the day off.

There was no mining scheduled, and the camp was nearly deserted as most of the miners had gone into town to spend what was left of their pay.

Though my body demanded rest, what I'd seen the night before didn't set right, so I grabbed a pickaxe, strapped on my boots, and headed around to the far side of the mountain.

Except for sagebrush and plenty of jagged rocks, I found little else of interest as I tore my clothing and perspired heavily while the sun reflected off the granite mountain and onto my face. After an hour of looking around without any water or clue as to what I was doing there, I was pretty much ready to give up and return to camp. Then a lilac fragrance hit my senses. It was too early for flowers at this elevation. I looked around, puzzled at where the scent was coming from. I climbed higher, curious at why the fragrance was familiar. It was what Ruth had been wearing. I climbed up to a little plateau. Then, the bouquet vanished. I looked around. There was nothing. I started to climb back down, when a delicate whisper touched my ear.

"Miles. Miles, come to me,” it was saying. It sounded like Ruth.

"Come to me, Miles."

"Where are you?” I yelled.

"Come to me,” the voice repeated.

I looked around, then finally noticed a small crevice. Upon closer inspection, it opened up into a cave. I entered the fissure. The far end seemed to go to infinity. Oddly, there was a small fire burning, with a pile of orange glowing embers and very little flame. Next to the fire was a boulder, otherwise the room was flat and unremarkable. There was no sign of the woman I was seeking and the cave seemed deserted.

"How good of you to come?” a hollow voice greeted me from behind.

With each syllable, adrenaline shot in waves up and down my spine. My muscles clenched.

"Miles, isn't it?” Something sort of floated around to the other side of the cave, in front of me.

"What? Where's Ruth?” I demanded.

The shape changed into a woman, at least a two dimensional version of one, and was completely black, appearing something like a freestanding shadow. “Miles, come to me."

"What in tarnation?” I started to retreat toward the entrance.

In an instant, the entity was between me and escape. “I have no name, Miles.” It changed into the shape of a shadow-wolf. “Though I guarantee these teeth can tear you to shreds."

"Fangs,” I corrected.

"What?” The creature asked, its train of thought interrupted.

"They're fangs. Wolves have fangs, whatever you are. They're not teeth, they're fangs. Even a dumb clod from Kansas knows that much."

The form changed to a large raven shape, and fluttered down onto the large rock that was near the fire. “So, a wise fellow has come to teach me."

I took a swing with the pickaxe. I struck nothing but air. The shape moved to the opposite side of the fire and changed back to a woman.

"You don't love me anymore, Miles?” it mocked with Ruth's voice.

"Love you? What the heck are you?"

"I'm your beloved Ruth, Miles. Don't you remember me?” it taunted.

My stubborn streak kicked in. “I don't know anyone named Ruth."

It changed back to the bird silhouette. “But, you were with her two nights ago?"

"So? I'm getting out of here."

"Now Miles,” the bird said, “I cannot allow that."

I picked up and hurled a small stone at it, but it missed.

"Miles, Miles, Miles.” It changed back to the wolf form. “I'm predator. You're prey. It's that simple.” The wolf shape moved over toward the mouth of the cave. “I feast on souls. Ruth was delicious. She thought you were sweet, so I decided to try you, too."

It seemed ridiculous. “My soul? You want my soul?"

The entity was deadly serious. “Exactly, Miles, exactly. The rest ... it all sort of falls to pieces when I devour the core.” It pointed at the bed of coals. “Makes a nice fire, though."

"That's evil."

"Call it what you will.” It changed into a shadow snake and began to slither on the ground around me, just out of reach of the pickaxe. “I used to drink blood. Then, I was stuck in here from a cave-in. I didn't die, Miles.

And the Indians found me. They thought I was a deity until I killed them all ... and the Spaniards. And soon, all these miners.” The snake form coiled up and its shadow-tongue stuck out then retreated five or six times.

"Mmm ... I'm a lucky snake, Miles. Lucky snake.” Then it uncoiled and changed again.

The wolf shape moved closer, then retreated when I readied the pickaxe. “But, I get so lonely here, waiting for a meal. The miners have been a windfall, but the gold is running out. I'll get so lonely when they're all gone.” It started laughing. “Sometimes I play with my food.” It laughed again. “Maybe we'll invite all the miners in here. Hell, they've broken through farther down the cave, maybe we'll have a cave-in and all get real chummy."

"The gold's running out?” I blurted.

"The Indians say gold is the yellow metal that makes white men crazy. Of course, I feed on Indians, too,” it said as its shadow tongue licked shadow cheeks. “The Spaniards wanted gold, but they didn't want to mine it, only to steal it.” It coiled up into snake form again. “Miles, the idiots Cortez sent me were way off course, and they were looking for an Indian city of gold. Can you believe that? Here? They came all the way here."

"There's no such thing as a city of gold,” I responded.

"Exactly. You're a clever fellow Miles. And they died. If they hadn't been so greedy, they'd have stayed in Spain, or at least over in Mexico.” It coiled up around the boulder. “They deserved to die, don't you think, Miles?"

"I think you're nuts.” I swung the pickaxe suddenly, but missed again.

"You deserve to die, Miles. You're a greedy miner trying to make a fast doubloon,” it said. “Plain old greed, Miles."

"Money's called dollars now,” I corrected. “Not doubloons."

"Forgive me.” It changed back to its wolf form. “I knew that. I knew that. Now Miles, this is fun.” The wolf shape moved near the cave entrance. “Lots of fun. But, all good things must end. This won't hurt a bit.” It opened its mouth wide. “Well, maybe a little."

I lunged at it with all my strength. I struck something on impact that tore open my shoulder, but my momentum carried both of us out through the entrance. We landed outside the cave, on the little rocky plateau. The thing began squirming violently. I dug in with teeth and fingernails and all my strength.

"Let me go,” it pleaded in a quivering voice.

I held on tight. “Don't like it out here?"

"How did you know?” Its voice was now crackly and dry. “Let me go?"

"You shouldn't play with your food. That's what my grandma always said.” The squirming weakened, but I held on tight just the same. “You're not getting back inside that cave. You lure victims to your lair, so you must not be mobile.” The thing was getting weaker. Then, it began to change. It sort of crumpled into a black blob, turned to dust, then it blew away on the afternoon breeze.

I sat up. My shoulder hurt. I was covered with sweat and blood, but was alive and nothing was broken. As I caught my breath, people—or at least their images—floated out of the cave. Some were miners from before my arrival, some were the Spaniards it had talked about, and there were a few Indians, and then there was Ruth. I looked at her. I sensed they were all going someplace good. Then, they all sort of faded off into the sky. I picked myself up, brushed off, then headed back down toward the camp.

"What you been up to, boy?” Roy shook his head while he looked me over. “Plum filthy."

"Oh, I, uh ... fell off a cliff,” I answered. “You got any whisky, Roy?"

"Whisky” Roy asked. “Looks like you already had some."

"You got any whisky or not?” I soon had a whole bottle in front of me. It was the cheap stuff that makes men sick. Later on, I found out they weren't kidding. They told me I turned green. I sure felt green. I learned what dry heaves and hangovers are all about.

The entity was right. The gold was running out. The mine closed about a month later. I found a job cooking at another mining camp that was only a few miles away, and even managed a nickel a day raise. They mined silver at the new mine, which seemed to be more in abundance than gold.

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I knew he was gonna be trouble the second I set eyes on him. The man was loitering around the road looking like he didn't really belong there. He was all gussied up like I was, being on account it was the Fourth of July and everyone was trying to celebrate, except for me. I pulled back on the reins and stopped the Driscoll Mining Company buckboard right in the middle of the road.

"Could you help a poor fellow out by giving him a lift?” he asked me.

"I reckon,” I replied. “Where ya headed?"

"Up yonder a ways,” was his answer.

"All righty,” I decided. “Name's Miles, Miles O'Malley.” I extended my hand.

He shook it. His hand was cold and clammy, a lot like shaking hands with a snake. “Nick.” We rode on for a full minute. “Nick Mephistopheles. I'm not really from around here."

"Who is?” I asked.

"You've got a point, Miles,” Nick agreed.

I turned the team off the badly rutted road and onto a really terrible one. “You want off here, or you going to the mine?"

"I think I'll stop by the mine, if you don't mind,” he decided.

"Suit yourself.” I didn't really care. I just kept hoping none of the supplies would bounce out when we hit the bumps in the road. These people were real good to me and I hadn't been fired now in nearly three months. After a mile of bouncing around, we came to the mining camp.

This was a pretty ordinary small mine operation. We had one main tunnel that went way back into the mountain.

"Just let me out by the office, if you please?” Nick asked.

The office was a canvas tent with windows. I stopped the team right in front. Mr. Driscoll was sitting in his rocker out in front, aiming for his brass spittoon. He never made it. “They was out of crackers, but I brung everything else, Mr. Driscoll,” I reported.

"Well, you know where it goes. Everyone, except Clyde and you, went off someplace. Course, it is a holiday,” my boss told me. Then he looked at Nick. “Mister, I ain't selling the mine. Why you keep coming out here?"

It did seem a little strange, some fella wanting to buy the mine and he was walking around on foot taking rides with strangers. But, I learned a long time ago not to try and figure rich folks. So, I took the team over to the supply shed and unloaded the provisions.

Miss Emily was one of the homeliest gals I'd ever run across. She was the boss’ daughter. The way she acted, you'd think she was one of those actresses or opera singers. And there she was, holding a tray covered with a red and white-checkered napkin on top. “Hi Miles."

"What do you want, Emily?” I asked.

"Miles, it's getting real hot. Gonna be a scorcher.” She set the tray down on the floor of the buckboard.

"What do you want, Emily?” I repeated. She was one of those women who was only nice when she wanted something.

"Could you take this tray down to Clyde?” she asked.

I dropped the last bag of flour into the shed. “Why can't you take it to him?"

"He's down in the mine,” she said. “I'm not allowed to go down there."